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live-the-fangirl-life · 8 months

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Timeless [Immortals]

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

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

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

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

Masterlist | Rowaelin Month | Read on Ao3

6494 words

Written for Rowaelin Month 2023 - Day 1: SongFic

*******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which portraits?”

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

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

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

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

“Leo?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Johannes?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Vincent?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Istanbul,” Rowan corrected.

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

“It’s Istanbul.” He said again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back to their beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They learned how to adapt.

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

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

They met as Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn.

They reunited as Aeliana Galanis and Romulus Whitheia.

As Eleyn Galliano and Rowland Whitton.

As Astrid and Warin.

As Alana and Royce.

There were some names they liked better than others.

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

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

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

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

She’d had lifetimes to recognize him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aelin.”

In an instant, she went completely and utterly still.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They didn’t know the half of it.

*****

“Howdy, Miss Linny. Sheriff.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m an old soul.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it was.

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

And then they left. Together.

“Where do you want it, Ace?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before she could answer, Owen beat her to it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think you give him too much credit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The European one,” she elaborated.

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

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

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

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

“Te amo.”

“Ti amo.”

“Je t’aime.”

“I love you.”

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Rowan asked, just as quietly.

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

*******

@acourtofsnakes @a-frog-with-a-laptop @astra-ad-mare @autumnbabylon @backtobl4ck @bankerfrog @becarefuloflove @camerooonchiu @captain-swan-is-endgame @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @doubt-less @earthtolinds @elentiyawhitethorn @feyretales @goddess-aelin @highqueenofelfhame @jorjy-jo @julemmaes @leiawritesstories @lemonade-coolattas @llyncooljones @mariamuses @moodymelanist @morganofthewildfire @nerdperson524 @rhysiedarling @rowaelinismyotp @rowaelinrambling @rowanaelinn @shyvioletcat @stardelia @superspiritfestival @sv0430 @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @the-lonelybarricade @the-regal-warrior @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @rowaelinscourt

#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #throne of glass #rowaelin fic #tog #rowaelinmonth #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelin au #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn #rowaelinscourt

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mariaofdoranelle · 1 year

Text

Faking Yulemas — Part 3: Chestnut Roasted

For 12 Days of Rowaelin

Prompt: Accidental Mistletoe

Fic masterlist

Look, I’m not taking Lyria very seriously here. You’ll understand what I mean soon.

Also, I’m going to defend myself by saying that I’m not putting women against each other because there was never a competition lmao

Warnings: language, a bruise, haircut without consent

Word count: 3k exactly

Aelin was incredibly cranky after a completely restless night and dodging the cuddle monster that took over Rowan’s body while he was asleep, but she was fine. Rowan asked his doctor cousin-in-law to bring her sleeping pills on his way here. It would be fine. She could do a lot of things today, but let her bad mood ruin this for Rowan wasn’t one of them.

It was hard to play nice little girlfriend with someone as bitchy as Maeve, but she would manage.

“So you really can’t do anything?”

Aelin’s jaw was sore from the clenching she tried not to do during breakfast, but it was useless. Deep breaths. Where the hell was Rowan? Deep, deep breaths.

“Aelin’s super smart. She actually reads things that aren’t on a Twitter thread. And it’s not like we can do a lot either, auntie.” Sellene tried to defend her between sips of coffee. She didn’t need to, but Aelin’s eyes still softened a little to hear that.

Even so, Maeve sighed. “I didn’t choose to be attached to you all, Sellene.”

Her friend snorted and went back to her breakfast, probably used to Maeve by now. Aelin wasn’t. She wore a false smile and focused back on her food. It would be a terrible move to snap at Rowan’s old aunt that didn’t look like a criminal, but surely was bitchy enough to be. For Mala’s sake, that woman stood out like a sore thumb between the Whitethorns.

To make a good impression, she needed to think. She couldn’t cook, often messed up her laundry, barely had the skills to take care of herself. Was she really that useless?

Then Aelin’s eyes lit up and she looked directly at Maeve. “I can play the piano.”

That owned her a close-lipped smile. “I have a piano upstairs. I want to see what you can do with it before dinner.”

Aelin nodded, her heartbeat starting to pick up, but the smile on her face didn’t falter. She had sold Uncle Orlon’s piano out of necessity when it became just Aedion and her, and didn’t get to play much after that. Aelin was making a mental note to find that piano and practice a little so she wouldn’t look that rusty when another person with silver-hair and pine green eyes came in.

“Enda!” Sellene’s eyes lit up and she almost fell over while rushing to hug him.

Oh, thank Mala. If Enda was here, that means his husband was close-by, hopefully with her sleeping pills. Aelin would give herself the luxury of sleeping early today, after she proved her worth to fucking aunt Maeve by playing the piano.

When Aelin got up to introduce herself, Enda was already looking at her with a fond smile. “You must be Aelin.”

After exchanging a few pleasantries and receiving a small plastic bag with her salvation pills, someone cleared their throat near them. A girl with chestnut eyes and curls that Aelin had no idea who she was.

“I’m Lyria. You probably heard about me already.” She extended a hand.

Wait. Wasn’t she supposed to come only tomorrow?

Aelin flinched for a millisecond, but it was enough to make Lyria’s smile grow.

“Okaaay,” Enda dragged it out as he slowly left. Good for him. Aelin would be leaving too if she hadn’t specifically signed up for this. Helping Rowan with his ex.

She cautiously shook Lyria’s hand. “I thought you were coming tomorrow.”

“Rory texted me yesterday to clarify the guest situation, and slipped that Enda was coming today. He was kind enough to give me a ride.”

Aelin’s eyebrows raised. “Is that so?” She’s desperate enough to come earlier once she hears Aelin’s there. Interesting.

Tossing her curls back, Lyria’s smirk never faltered. “Of course! I didn’t see any trace of you on Rowan’s Instagram, but I understood it on the car ride. It’s very honorable what Rowan’s doing.”

Fuck. They needed to sort the Instagram thing fast. But Aelin tilted her head, trying to fully understand what she’d said, when Lyria’s smile grew as she pointed a look at the bag with pills on Aelin’s hand.”

“Dating the mentally ill. It can be a handful.”

“Excuse—“

“But it’s Yulemas, after all! Everyone has its own way of doing charity.”

What the actual fuck?

“Wait a second.” She tilted her head, frowning in mock-confusion. “Is that why he keeps rejecting you? Because the charity deadline is over?”

Lyria gaped, and when she opened her mouth to speak, they were saved by Sellene asking if they wanted to have more food. Thank God.

“Sure, but can someone grab a plate for me?” Lyria pointed at the cabinet and aimed doe eyes at them. “I’m too short.”

Sellene seemed to try not to sigh too loudly and pointed at a nearby table. “There’s literally dozens of plates piled up there.”

“Oh!” She giggled. “Sorry, I didn’t see them.”

It was very hard not to, but Aelin had many things to fret about already.

First, the fact that Lyria was a complete nightmare. A fucking pick-me girl that she had to deal with the on the day she hadn’t slept all night—and not for a good reason.

And there was also the Instagram issue, but their “relationship” was new enough that it wasn’t a huge deal for now.

Rowan finally appeared, wearing a mouth-watering white shirt and a small smile aimed a her, his green eyes sparking under the sunlight that came through the window.

However, his joyful expression faltered when a high-pitched voice squealed, “Rowie!”

Lyria got up in a bolt and hugged him, trying to wrap her legs around him, but Rowan didn’t pick her up. Instead, he wordlessly unwrapped her arms off him and gave her two taps on the shoulder.

Sellene seemed to be choking as she tried to suppress her laughter. But Aelin didn’t check on her friend, too busy staring at Lyria’s hand gripping Rowan’s arms.

And it was okay to glower, Aelin thought. She was his girlfriend, after all. That’s what a girlfriend would do. Maybe her acting skills were so good that she was doing it without even planning.

Acting or not, Aelin wanted to burn Lyria’s hands off Rowan.

The feeling partially vanished when he quickly ceased the conversation and sat by her side, though. Good. Aelin knew she was only playing fake girlfriend so Rowan could avoid his ex, but she didn’t want to look bad because he was giving too much attention to Lyria. Her slightly alarmed state was just Aelin trying to protect her dignity. No biggie.

˜˜

Even the winter was hot in Doranelle, so Sellene decided to go to the pool and demanded that Aelin and Rowan would come with her. She would rather stay inside and see how she’s doing with the piano, but Owen saved them by inviting Lyria to finish decorations along with him and Rory, and she’d give anything to stay away from her.

Now Aelin was in the bathroom near the pool, changing. She had brought two bikinis, a red one and a green one. Her first instinct was to get the red, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t like Aelin was trying to seduce anyone. Who was there to be seduced, old aunt Maeve? Nuh-uh. No one. Did she want to wear something extra to maybe, just maybe reassure Rowan that there was more in the world than pick-me girls and bouncy chestnut curls? Yes, but it wasn’t like that. Aelin wanted to look hot for him as a friendly reminder, that’s all.

In the end, she chose the classic triangle tie side set, plain dark green. She looked hot, but not teasing hot. Aelin was adjusting her hair and retouching her very natural, I-woke-up-like-this makeup for herself. In a feminist, self-love way. Definitely not because she wanted her not-boyfriend drooling over her.

She went outside and Sel was already at the pool, but where was Rowan? She could hear a sound of water falling, so she followed the sound and—

Dear Mala.

Her not-boyfriend was in the pool shower because of course drill sergeant, neat freak Rowan would hop in the shower before jumping into the pool. Aelin held in a breath when she noticed the trail the water did around muscles she thought were myths, how good the tan skin of his naked upper body looked under the Doranellian sun. She unconsciously licked her lips just to think how good all of this would look underneath her.

There was no time to chastise herself for these thoughts, because when Rowan looked up and saw her, his eyes darkened just the same. Aelin was walking towards him with purposeful steps, and she didn’t miss how the rhythm of his breathing changed, by the movements of his chest. How he shut off the water without taking his eyes off her, and then ran a hand through his wet hair, sending the blonde strands away from his eyes.

Aelin had her own completely trained on Rowan when she slipped and fell straight into the pool.

Well, not straight into the pool. She managed to bump her hip against the edge before going all in.

“Oh my God!” She faintly heard Sellene scream from underwater, and both her best friend and not-boyfriend were coming her way and checking if she was okay.

“I’m fine, I promise,” Aelin reassured them, “I might’ve bruised my hip, but it barely hurts.”

Sel and Rowan exchanged a look. “I’m getting an ice pack,” her friend said before going towards the mansion, leaving her and Rowan alone.

He mentioned for her to get closer, and then picked Aelin up from the pool and sat her by his side. After that, he got up and extended an hand so she could do it too, but didn’t release it. He led her hand in hand towards a pool lounge chair and mentioned for her to sit there. Once she did, Rowan crouched on her side and slightly moved her bikini’s feeble string, making her skin burn whenever he touched.

It was just so he could assess the damage. Rowan was being respectful. There was no need for her stupid blood vessels to make her blush like that.

He probably didn’t notice it, by the frown he had while staring at her hip. “You’re injured.”

Aelin snorted. “I have one bruised hip.”

“One very bruised hip.”

Before she could prove her own well-being, she saw Sellene coming their way, holding the ice pack.

“I also brought the speaker. taylor swift: petty jilted lover edition?”

Aelin hummed and tapped her chin, thoughtful. She did listen to that playlist a lot this year, but she wasn’t in the mood for it.

“I made a new one. It’s called labyrinth by taylor swift type of shit,” Aelin answered.

Sellene’s eyebrows went up, and Aelin narrowed her eyes. It would look like a battle of wills if the corner of her friend’s lips weren’t tugging up, a sign that she was biting back a smirk.

Instead of insisting on this weird exchange, Sellene turned to her cousin. “Are you okay with Taylor Swift this time?”

Rowan shrugged and sat on the long lounge chair. The same one Aelin was currently in.

Sellene opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when received a long look from Aelin. Instead, she just smirked and left to set the speaker.

“You need to actually put the ice pack for it to work, you know.”

Aelin blinked and noticed that yes, she was so distracted she ended up only holding it, without pressing against the bruise.

When she started to move, Rowan adjusted himself in the seat, legs opened, and mentioned for her to seat between them.

Oh, God. Her heart picked up again. Aelin carefully sat there, her back against his chest, and it only took a small caress of his hand against her shoulder for her to relax there.

Noticing that she’d become distracted again, he gently took the ice pack from her hand and rearranged their position so he could press it against her injury himself.

“Buzzard,” she murmured while watching Sellene scroll through her phone in the pool.

“What did you call me?”

She turned around to see his widened eyes and smiled. Boldened, Aelin bumped his nose and said, “A very fussy Buzzard.”

˜˜

For someone who practically ordered her to go to the pool, Sellene got tired of it quite early. Aelin didn’t mind it, though. At least it gave her time to practice the piano. Or would.

Rowan didn’t look for his family after the pool, knowing Lyria would be with them. Instead, he said he’d watch Aelin play in the piano room after they took turns in their suite’s shower.

She started with the Stygian Suite and only played it once, because Rowan sat by her side immediately after and asked her to teach him. Aelin felt her chest warming up every time he frowned in concentration or asked her a question, but the hardest part was biting back her silly grins at his clumsy playing. He was cute enough to make up for it, though. Objectively speaking. Objectively, Rowan was cute. Not that it affected her patience with him. Aelin was teaching him the same way she’d teach a cute or uncute person.

Unfortunately, Aelin had to cut the piano lesson short to go to her room and get a few sheets on her iPad. Cheesy or not, she wanted to play Yulemas songs for the Whitethorns. She just needed to discuss which ones with Ro—

“My chest is no an armrest, Lyria” Aelin heard the voice of her not-boyfriend in the hallway.

“We’re under the mistletoe. You’re going to ignore that?”

“Yes? You cornered me here!”

Aelin was grinding her teeth together, heat rushing through her body. That’s it. She needed Lyria gone. Very quietly, she sneaked her way to the piano room. But she needed something first. Thankfully, it was close to the door.

“Ro, I know you. You can’t be this unaffected.”

Lyria was making decorations earlier with Rowan’s parents, and now Aelin didn’t doubt the reason so many mistletoes were added. Good thing they left a sharp pair of scissors behind.

“You think- Stop grabbing me!” Rowan snapped. “You think I care about a mistletoe more than I care about my girlfriend?”

“But it’s a tradition!”

”You dumb. Fucking. Bitch,” Aelin snarled the last word while cutting a chunk of her chestnut curls off.

Lyria’s eyes went wide, watching a strand of her hair fall to the floor. “Oh my God! What do you think you’re doing?”

She gestured to the doors with the scissors. “I’m kicking you out.”

“You can’t do that!” Lyria turned to Rowan for reassurance, but he was grinning like Hellas himself. “I’m Rory’s guest! You literally can’t do that!”

Resorting to Rowan’s mama, huh? Pathetic.

Aelin tilted her head and whispered, “I don’t think she’ll be here when I shave your head bald, Lyria.”

Just to prove a point, she cut another strand of her hair. A bigger one this time.

Lyria screamed so loud Rowan cringed.

Aelin was completely unaffected, though. She grabbed Lyria by the hair with one hand, scissors on the other, and pulled her down the hallway. She didn’t physically fight it, so pulling Lyria by a hair that long was more like walking a puppy that doesn’t know how to use a leash. Easy.

She fought Aelin with words, though.

“OH MY GOD,” Lyria screamed. “SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

Aelin rolled her eyes and turned to Rowan, who was right behind them. “Get her things upstairs. We’re taking her to the bus station.”

“HEEELP!” She looked at Aelin. “You’re… You’re crazy!” Lyria shouted at the end.

She held the scissors dangerously close to the brunette’s hair, making her eyes go wide. “And you don’t want to mess with the crazy bitch on Yulemas, right?”

They kept like this until Enda and his husband came running their way, and then stopped. Rowan’s cousin sighed and screamed, “It’s okay, you can come!”

“SHE’S TRY’NA KILL ME!”

Aelin rolled her eyes. How was Lyria’s throat still intact?

Rowan’s parents arrived looking completely ashen. Sellene had a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking.

Rory cleared her throat. “What’s going on?”

Lyria’s eyes widened. “She’s mental,” she whisper-yelled.

Aelin sighed and tried to look at herself through someone else’s eyes. Lyria’s hair on one hand, scissors still on the other. Yeah, it didn’t look good.

“This stupid b-“ Aelin paused. She didn’t want to curse that bad in front of Rowan’s family. “There was a stupid glitch. Lyria was hitting on my boyfriend. We’re taking her to the bus station.”

Rory blinked, trying to process this. Owen was biting his lip, and he seemed to struggle with the corners of his mouth tugging up. Interesting.

“Aelin, can you release Lyria, please?” Rowan’s mom asked.

She felt Rowan’s squeeze on her shoulder, and thanked the gods he was back. Aelin complied and let her go, holding her hands—and scissors—up in surrender.

Lyria turned to look at Aelin, a smug smirk in her lips.

However, Rory didn’t stop there. “Lyria, dear, to avoid causing further issues…”

“You’re kicking me out?” she spoke in a quiet voice for once.

“No…” Rowan’s mom trailed, grimacing. “I’ll be glad to have you here once things between you three have… settled. I just think it’s best for everyone to avoid conflict during Yulemas.”

Lyria froze, looking at Rory with shiny eyes, but thankfully his mom didn’t balk.

“Gimme that,” Rowan’s dad quietly said, getting Lyria’s things from his son’s hand. “We’ve got it from here.”

Aelin turned around and started walking like nothing happened. Her job here was done.

”You’re something else, Aelin Galathynius,” Rowan marveled when they were out of earshot.

She had a cocky grin on. “I know.”

Rowan chuckled and squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

Aelin didn’t do anything. Which means that she also didn’t let go of his hand while they walked towards their bedroom.

There was a possibility that she’d remember this tomorrow and think she could’ve handled the Lyria situation better. But what could Aelin do? Everyone knows she gets cranky when she doesn’t sleep well.

A/N: I did prepare with enough possible scenarios to keep Lyria a bit longer, but she’s too annoying lmao

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#rowaelin #throne of glass fanfic #aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #tog au #fake dating #faking yulemas

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throughstarlitfields · 5 months

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𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘮…

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐠𝐨𝐰𝐧.

🎨: @spearthymint

Commissioned by me

𝑷𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑬 𝑫𝑶 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑹𝑬𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑻. 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑹 𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑫𝑰𝑻 𝑮𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑵.

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shadowhandss60 · 1 month

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Dorian flirting with Celaena:

I brought you books, chocolate and a puppy. Wanna play some chess and cuddle?

Dorian flirting with Manon:

Rip out my throat, I DARE you…where yo chains at?

#throne of glass #dorian havilliard #manon blackbeak #manorian #sjm universe #manon x dorian #sarah j maas #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #celaena sardothien #aelin galathynius #chaol westfall #throne of glass meme

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mellendraws · 9 months

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“To whatever end.”

#mine #fanart #bookish art #artists on tumblr #throne of glass #aelin x rowan #rowaelin #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn

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rainingriversofyou · 25 days

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Throne Of Glass characters & couples 🤍 Artist: inkfaeart

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highladyofterrasen7 · 1 month

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Dorian: apparently the only people you should invite to your wedding are ones who invited you to theirs

Aelin:

Chaol:

Dorian: well guess who isn’t coming to my wedding

#he just wants to be a flower girl #sarah j maas #throne of glass #dorian havilliard #chaol westfall #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #manon blackbeak #manorian #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #yrene towers #chaorene #dorian x chaol #chaorian #dorian x celaena

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gracie-rosee · 3 months

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This parallel 💚

Rowan and Aelin, Queen of Shadows // Ruhn and Lidia, HOFAS

#cc hofas #throne of glass #rowaelin #nightbright #ruhnlidia #lidia x ruhn #ruhn danaan #lidia cervos #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #queen of shadows #house of flame and shadow #hofas spoilers

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i-only-see-daylight · 5 months

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Rowan, desperately trying to save Dorian: Highness, with all due respect, Aelin will kill me if I let you die, so I'm dead either way.

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evilienne · 5 months

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A Quiet Moment

Can you spot the hawk? 🧐

#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #tog #throne of glass #sarah j. maas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #illlustration #fan art #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn

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live-the-fangirl-life · 7 months

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Trust Me, it'll be Fun

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

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

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection

Halloween Prompts

2053 words

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Laughing, Aelin stepped closer and rested her hands on his crossed arms. “You say that like we're stranded on some desert island.”

“At least on an island, we wouldn’t have to hear your cousin and Lysandra making out in the next room.”

“My cousin,” she scoffed, “your friend is only ‘my cousin’ he annoys you.”

The sounds from the next room came again and she winced as Rowan’s brows shot up in vindication.

“I’m with Rowan,” Elide spoke up, walking toward the couple with her fiancé a step behind her. “Let’s just go.”

“Really?” Aelin spun towards her friend who shrugged. “You too?”

“I didn’t even really want to come.”

“What? Why did you then?” the blonde asked curiously.

“Because you’re my friend,” Elide laughed and bumped her shoulder with Aelin’s. “And I thought you might die otherwise and I needed to see you in your last moments to give you a passable eulogy.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” Aelin smiled, ignoring the sound of Lorcan scoffing. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I did.” Elide snorted. “And you said trust me, it’ll be fun!”

“Famous last words,” Rowan muttered, rolling his eyes and leaning against the wall next to Lorcan.

“I’m sorry El,” she really did look it. “I get ramped up with Halloween.”

“I know, babes,” her friend patted her arm with a small smile, “I know.”

“Are we leaving or not?” Lorcan cut it, earning a glare form Aelin and an eyeroll for Elide.

“Fine,” Aelin huffed. “But I’m doing this for Elide, not for you Salvaterre.”

“Goody,” he deadpanned.

She went to walk out the door but paused at the top of the stairs. There was something that she couldn’t put her finger on…

“Something’s blocking the porch,” Aelin said.

Elide stared at her. “What do you mean something’s blocking the porch?”

A gust of wind blew the door shut behind her and Aelin whipped around at the sound, backing up until her back hit Rowan’s chest.

“I mean,” she explained, wrapping her arms around herself and glancing warily around the old house. “I tried to walk down the porch steps and I couldn’t.”

“What? You suddenly forgot how to walk down stairs, Galathynius?” Lorcan laughed and rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall and letting his head hit the wood.

“No, you little shit—” she whirled on him, pointing a finger.

Rowan stepped in between them before they could get any closer to each other. Aelin shook off her boyfriend’s exasperated stare and tried explaining again.

“What I mean is that I tried to leave this house, and something stopped me,” she looked around at her friends and stressed, “like I physically couldn’t get to the bottom of the stairs.”

Elide forced out a weak laugh. “Ha ha, okay, very funny. You got me. Now can we cut it out and leave?” She stepped closer to Lorcan.

Aelin met her gaze and repeated, “I’m not kidding.”

“I may be a wimp when it comes to Halloween, but I’m not an idiot.” The smaller girl huffed. “You’re really playing up the whole haunted house thing, and you know what? Props to you. You did good.” She began a slow clap that brought a smirk to Lorcan’s face. “Now drop it.”

Rowan walked past them straight for the door and pulled on the door handle. The wood creaked against the effort.

“Cut it out, Whitethorn,” Lorcan griped when the door didn’t budge.

“Uh…” Rowan tried again, this time visibly straining as he pulled on the old door. “It’s not me.”

“Fucking hell.” Lorcan gritted out, slotting Elide next to Aelin as he took Rowan’s place and pulled. And pulled. And pulled. He gripped the handle and used his entire body weight, but it didn’t move.

“What the fuck?”

*****

“’Let’s go to a haunted house’ they said, ‘It's Halloween’ they said,” Aelin began pacing around the hall. “’It’ll be fun’, they said.”

“Don’t you dare pretend like you weren’t the one saying those things,” Aedion barked at her. He and Lysandra found their way back to the front hall when they heard their friends’ yelling.

“Oh, shut up,” she waved off her cousin and tried to think.

“Has anyone tried any of the other doors?” Lysandra asked. “Or windows, or whatever?”

“Okay,” Aelin perked up. “Lys and Aedion take the second floor, Rowan and I will search this floor, and Ellie, you and your guard dog take the attic.”

“Oh fuck no!” Elide protested. “You take the creepy attic, Lorcan and I will take the ground floor.”

“Not gonna correct the guard dog thing?” Rowan smirked at his friend. All he got back was a deadpan glare.

“Fine!” Aelin threw her hands up. “You two take this floor; Rowan and I have the attic.”

“Why are we looking in the attic at all?” Rowan asked, crossing his arms. “Even if there is a window, and even if we can get it open, it would still be three stories up and way too dangerous to escape from.”

Everyone stared at him, blinking, while he tried to find someone to see his point. Finally, Aelin huffed, “This is no time for common sense, Ro.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face and grumbled, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Okay!” Elide chirped, looking a little manic. “We each take a floor, look for anything that can help, and we meet back here in twenty minutes, yeah?”

A chorus of yeahs and okays and I’m going to kill you when we get out of here, Galathynius echoed throughout the group.

“And for the love of god,” Rowan pleaded, “somebody fucking find Moonbeam.”

They all split up, taking a different section of the house. Aelin and Rowan took their time walking up the stairs to the attic, each shift in the wood sending nerves rocketing through them. When they got to the top, they shared a look before Aelin pressed her hand to the door and pushed, letting in swing in and immediately outlining the silhouette of a figure staring right at them.

Three different screams echoed in the small hallway, each higher pitched than the last.

“Stop hitting me!” Fenrys shrieked under the barrage of Aelin’s fists. At the sound of his voice, Aelin pulled back, heart racing and chest heaving, finally shining the flashlight they’d grabbed in her friend’s face.

“Fenrys?!” she hissed, “You almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing up here?”

She could feel Rowan’s erratic heart beating from where her back met his chest, as Fenrys stared at the pair like they were the crazy ones.

“Looking for these,” he lifted his hands and she saw the two bottles he was holding. “I knew a place like this would have more booze hidden around.”

“And you thought they’d be in the attic?” Rowan asked incredulously.

“Obviously,” Fenrys rolled his eyes. “And they were, so,” he shrugged.

“Gods, whatever,” Aelin pushed passed the blond and walked further into the dark and dusty room. A single swinging light bulb illuminated the space as the three of them looked around.

“What are you two doing up here?” Fenrys shot back.

“Looking for a way out,” Rowan didn’t elaborate.

Snorting, Fenrys mimicked, “And you thought you’d find it in the attic?”

Before either of them could reply, a loud chime sounded from the dilapidated grandfather clock that was pushed against a far wall. They whirled around. Aelin ended up in front of both guys, her fists raised while Rowan reached for the closest weapon he could find and Fenrys cradled the bottle of whiskey to his chest.

They had barely had a chance to wonder how a broken clock was chiming when they heard the stairs begin to creak.

“What are you gonna do, Whitethorn?” Fenrys hissed, “Sweep a ghost to death?”

Risking a glance behind her, Aelin saw Rowan clutching a broom between his hands and gripping it like a baseball bat. She elbowed Fenrys and hissed, “A ghost is already dead, dumbass.”

“Hey,” he hissed back. “Don’t call me a dumbass what it was your dumb ass that got all of our dumb asses here in the first place, dumbass.”

“Will you please stop saying dumbass?” Rowan hissed.

Aelin shot a triumphant look at Fenrys. “Yeah, dumbass.”

“For fucks sake…”

The lone lightbulb began flickering, immediately shutting all of them up. They could still hear the stairs creaking, the sound getting closer and closer every second.

“We’re going to die,” Fenrys breathed.

“It’s fine,” Aelin’s voice came out tinny and shaking.

“The fuck you mean it's fine?!”

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

She felt both sets of eyes land on her and knew that if she looked at either man they would be looking at her as if she had lost her mind.

“How. Are. You. So. Calm?”

She forced a laugh, but it sounded more like a strained grunt. “Oh, because, none of this is real.”

“Uh,” Rowan’s voice came from her right, “It’s very real.”

“No,” she repeated, clearing her through and drawing in a breath. “You see, if it were real then you would see a Me-shaped hole in that door. But we can’t leave this house, which means I can’t escape, which means that it isn’t real.”

There was a beat of silence before Fenrys said, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve been listening to myself speak for twenty-five years.”

Rowan breathed, “Your denial both impresses and astounds me.”

“Thank you,” she breathed just as quietly. Glancing quickly between them, she asked, “Run?”

“Run.” Rowan nodded.

Another best passed and the three of them raced down the steps, screaming at whoever was coming towards them. They made it to the main floor before realizing they hadn’t run into anyone on their way down.

*****

The twenty-four-hour diner’s fluorescent lights lit up the group of seven friends who were huddled together in a booth, silently replaying the night's events in their heads.

“So,” Elide’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before continuing, her soft voice sounding almost obscenely loud in the near-empty diner, “What did we learn tonight?”

Groans echoed around the table.

Aedion spoke up first, “Run if you ever hear Aelin say, ‘Trust me, it’ll be fun.’”

A quiet fuck you followed but was drowned out by Lysandra who added, trailing a finger down the side of her water glass following a drop of condensation as it hit the table. “Crème de Menthe and Absinthe look way too similar. Way. Too. Similar.”

“When a door won’t open it's probably a Push, and not being supernaturally barricaded by ghosts,” Rowan groaned.

“That next time we do this, we better have snacks,” Aelin mumbled, staring a hole into the table.

“Next time?!”

*******

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