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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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rowaelin // 5.8k words // masterlist // ciwyw masterlist let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing :) i hope you enjoy <3 i can't wait to see all your comments. y'all are kILLING me with them on this one.

As much as he knew he shouldn’t be, Rowan was drunk. Again.

Tomorrow they had a match against Adarlan on Doranelle’s home field. While Rowan laid on his back, staring at the ceiling fan above him with a full half-empty bottle of whiskey resting on his stomach, he knew they were going to lose. Not because Adarlan was better or because they wanted it more, but because Rowan was a selfish piece of shit and couldn’t put the bottle down. There was no way he would be in any condition to play tomorrow— at least not well.

Burying his sorrows at the bottom of the bottle seemed like the better alternative until he could figure out how to repair what he had catastrophically obliterated. It had been a full week with no word from Aelin. Not a single one of those days had passed without him sending an apology text into the void. There had even been a few voicemails Wednesday night that went unanswered. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was erasing them without bothering to listen. He deserved that much.

Rowan Whitethorn had never had social media. Ever. Not even in high school when it was just becoming a cool thing to do. Nobody needed to know that much about his life. At this point in his career, his agent and PR team begged him to do it because it would garner him more popularity. Even Lorcan posted on instagram from time to time and kept everyone happy.

The thing that finally drove Rowan to making an instagram account was stalking Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. It was easier for his thumbs to scroll through her feed while nursing sips of whiskey, trying not to double tap on any pictures. He was pathetic enough— Aelin didn’t need to be aware of his sulking and pining.

This all came after he googled her name paired with various words like ‘spouse,’ ‘husband,’ ‘wife,’ and ‘wedding.’ Nothing came back with a result, but it had been lurking in his mind when she didn’t answer his question earlier. Besides, Rhoe Galathynius very well could have been her father-in-law. As it were, she wasn’t married, and Evalin and Rhoe only had one child: their daughter. At least if she was married, there was no record of it. No photos of her in an elegant white gown standing next to the love of her life.

Good. He could deal with that.

What he couldn’t deal with was the photos of her in bikinis, arms wrapped around the waists of other men. She was nestled between the pair on the deck of a yacht all three of them with wide smiles and sunglasses covering their eyes. Her bathing suit looked more like lingerie and Rowan had never wished so hard for summer to come back around than he was right then.

There were pictures of her with a stunning brunette woman, both of them dressed in finery or night-out attire depending on where they were headed. Aelin with a full face of makeup, with sultry dark eyes and a full pouty lip was enough to drive him into madness.

He found photographs from holidays with her family, Aelin perched on a couch in comfy clothes and thick socks with Aedion Ashryver standing behind her. Further down her page he found the ones from years ago of her on Aedion’s shoulders after he won some match or another. It was captions Always my hero.

Lower and lower he went until he finally hit her first post: a simple kingsflame flower from nine years ago with the caption Fireheart. He supposed that was where she garnered the name for her foundation. Gods above, she was incredible. A super-hero amongst ordinary women.

Rowan scrolled back towards the top of her instagram, all the way back to the most recent one. It was from their day downtown, when they had bought a piece of chocolate hazelnut cake and sat outside the bakery. Aelin was laughing around her thumb that she held between her teeth. At that moment, he had been teasing her about getting the frosting everywhere. Behind the camera he was smiling just as brilliantly as she was. The light in her eyes, her smile, the utter joy that radiated off of her… It was enough to make him breathless all over again.

“Fuck,” he murmured to himself, heart squeezing and soul dying at how absurdly beautiful she was. It didn’t seem fair. Everything about her was perfect. Not just outside, but inside, too. Aelin Galathynius was the most selfless and loving person he had ever met. Inside and out, she shone with the light of a thousand suns. It made it impossible to look away and broke his heart that he had driven her away so sharply.

“M’such a bloody dobber,” he mumbled, zooming in on her face as close as it would get, until she was little more than a monochromatic cluster of pixels, none of her features distinguishable.

The phone fumbled where he held it over his face, falling directly onto it. Rowan swore, the taste of metal blooming over his tongue where his tooth had cut through his lip. Worse than that, though, was when he noticed the giant heart that appeared in the center of the picture he’d been staring at.

Rowan had accidentally liked it. Just as quickly, he unliked it and tossed his phone to the other end of the couch. Jail. He needed to be in phone jail.

It had over ten thousand likes and three hundred comments. There was a chance she would never notice the notification appearing and disappearing. She might never notice. It didn’t stop the ice creeping into his veins, though. The idea that she would realize how utterly pathetic he was, as if all the texts weren’t indication enough.

Rowan swore violently under his breath and grabbed his phone again. With bleary, bloodshot eyes he opened their text thread to send off another message. Just as his fingers started their drunken dance over the letters once again, his phone began to ring loudly. The vibration shook him to his core as he beheld the name flashing on his screen, a photo of the two of them laying on her couch flashing in front of him. The sight of it knocked the wind out of him.

Aelin.

Fuck. Shit. Mala fucking fry him.

“Hello?” he said, breathless like he’d been running a marathon.

“Hi.” Aelin’s voice was quiet. Rowan could imagine her sitting in the middle of her couch, a tv show paused.

“I am so sorry, baby,” he began, letters and syllables stringing together with no space between. “I need to explain, to—”

“Did you just like that picture on my instagram?”

“I…” it was long and drawn out as he squinted at the ceiling, trying to find a way out of it. There wasn’t one. Heat crept up his neck and bloomed over his cheeks like rose petals. “Ye-yeah. That was me.”

“Are you drunk?” was her follow up question. On the other end of the phone it sounded like she was rolling over in bed. Gods, he would love to be wrapped up in bed with her. The expanse of her golden skin under his hands wasn’t beat out by anything, not even football.

“No,” was his quick response.

“You sound drunk.” It was impossible to tell what, exactly, her emotions were. Rowan swallowed thickly, setting the bottle on the coffee table and nudging it out of reach.

“I sound like a pathetic bastard that ruined something perfect.”

“You’re definitely drunk.” If Rowan wasn’t positive that she hated him, he might mistake her tone as amusement.

“I miss you. And I’m sorry,” he paused to hiccup, “And I want you to tell me what to do to fix what I’ve broken.” A heavy, resigned sigh came through the phone and Rowan froze.

“Start with sobering up–” Fuck. She was going to hang up, and he had blown his only chance at making things right. Shit.

“Don’t hang up,” Rowan pleaded, lip tucking between his bottom teeth while he waited for her to respond.

“Get some sleep and win your game tomorrow. After that… maybe we can talk.” If that was what it took, then yes. A thousand times yes he would do both of those things. Anything to get her to talk to him, anything so he could hold her, feel her lips on his skin, taste her and feel her beneath him.

“Do you promise?” A schoolyard thing to say, but he couldn’t help it. The gift of hearing her voice again after an entire week of deafening silence was the most beautiful thing he could ever imagine hearing. If he could, he’d bottle it up and get drunk off it. It was better than any alcohol, any drug.

“I promise,” she replied, and Rowan swore he heard a hint of laughter weaving between each letter of those two, simple words. That couldn’t be right, though. Aelin was mad at him. They wouldn’t be laughing together anytime soon.

“Okay.” It felt stupid to say, but it was the only word he could find.

“Okay.” Aelin’s voice was still soft and told him nothing of the status of his forgiveness, or if he needed to beg on his knees and worship her as penance. He would never, ever stop if that was what she required. “Goodnight, Rowan.”

The line went dead before he could say anything else and a new zap of determination electrified his blood. If she wanted a win, she would get it. But he had to get sober first.

With a pained groan, he pulled himself upright. A few deep breaths later the room wasn’t spinning quite so quickly and he was able to stumble to the kitchen. The smell of coffee made his nose wrinkle when he opened the bag. It quickly filled the space of the kitchen as he dumped the beans into the grinder, wincing at the shriek it made. Coffee and bread would help sober him up, and then he would focus on fluid intake to not be a useless sack of meat on the field tomorrow.

He leaned against his counter, ignoring incoming messages from his teammates checking on him, and shoved half a piece of bread into his mouth. A cold shower would wake him up, and tons of water and painkillers before bed would help the hangover tomorrow.

Anything Aelin wanted, he would give her. Starting tomorrow night by defeating the Adarlan Wyverns and handing it to her on a silver platter.

When he finally drifted off to sleep, his phone screen was still illuminated in his palm: that final photo he’d taken of her at the bakery wearing a smile just for him.

~*~

As soon as she took one step into the Neon Moon, she found Connall looking over at her with a healthy dose of surprise in his eyes. Aelin moved through the crowd that had gathered to watch the game, managing to snag a single barstool in front of the beer tap.

“Water, please,” she half-shouted over the loud voices filling the room. As soon as it was in her hands she took a long drink before placing it down on a napkin in front of her. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” A crooked grin spread across his face and he leaned forward on his forearms. “Watching the game?”

“Against my better judgment,” she sighed, ruffling her fingers through her hair. Now that she knew that he played for Doranelle, she just couldn’t miss it. Had she known from the get-go, there wouldn’t have been a single game that she missed. Even if it meant she’d be catching up on work during the short commercial breaks. “How much do you know?”

“Oh just… everything.”

Aelin groaned and looked up at the ceiling. She wasn’t upset that he’d told his friends, his support system. Rowan needed that, just like she did. Though she had yet to tell her family, she was going to do it soon. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. Some of the dust had to settle with Rowan first.

Though she was content to let him stew for a few more days, the single like she’d gotten from an account called actuallywhitethorn made her pick up the phone. A result of her doom-scrolling before bed, the notification had dropped from the top of her screen. By the time she clicked her notification icon, that particular like from that specific account was gone. It was like fate, she decided, for her to have seen it in its brevity. If he was miserable and pining enough to accidentally like an instagram picture, it wouldn’t hurt to call him. So she did.

At first, she didn’t know what to say, but as he talked it became more and more clear that he was very drunk. All his words had melded into one long syllable, and the fact that he was likely drinking away his feelings and problems had tugged at her heart. He really was adorable when he was drunk, calling her baby and trying his hardest to apologize, begging her not to hang up the phone. As much as she really did want to talk to him, it wasn’t a conversation to have while he was only half-aware. The apology she deserved needed to come from his sober lips, not drunk, loose ones.

After they hung up, Aelin had decided she would go to the bar to watch the game. It didn’t seem like a feat she could conquer at home alone on her couch. Even with Lysandra a phone call away, it felt too big to do on her own. The bar made sense.

“Congratulations?” Connall offered, and it was the first time she’d really picked up on any shyness or hesitancy from the man.

“Thank you.” It was still so new, so foreign. The racing of her thoughts hadn’t died down about it yet, her emotions didn’t have a full grasp on the situation. “How is he?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.” Kind of. If his texts were any inclination to his mental state, he was having a rough go of things at the moment. “Feels like a piece of shite.”

“Yeah, well.” That was a little deserved after what he’d said to her. Connall didn’t seem to disagree, merely shrugging as he followed her eyes to the television.

The game had been on for fifteen minutes, and Doranelle had scored one point. Adarlan had nothing. It was a bit of a feat to score so early on in the game, showing just how skilled Rowan and his teammates were. A camera zoomed in on the players, a towering, dark-haired man with a glove tucked under his arm, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. Aelin’s eyes widened and her head whipped toward Connall when the spitting image of him appeared on the screen. The only difference was the color of the curls: Connall’s were black, his brother’s golden.

“You have a twin?” By way of answer, Connall merely winked and nodded back at the TV where Rowan had come into view. His uniform for home games was navy blue with white letters. Hands braced on his hips, he joined his teammates where they talked. It was only when he turned around that she saw how horrible he looked.

Though his skin was golden brown as ever, his face was ashen. Dark circles clung beneath his eyes and his bottom lip was swollen and scabbed over. The sweat gathering at his temples didn’t do anything at all to make him look well, if anything he just looked sicker.

“Whitethorn looks a bit… peaky,” Connall said cautiously, the corners of his lips tugging downward into a scowl.

“As drunk as he was when I called him last night, that makes perfect sense.” She was frowning, too. The most put together part of him was his hair, the single french braid down the center until it all met in a mess of a bun on the top of his head.

As soon as the whistle blew, he inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. That was when the cameras zoomed back out to take in the entire field, all the players getting into position. Aelin watched closely, one eye on the ball and the other always aware of where Rowan was in the frame.

For a while, it was a lot of passing back and forth, working up and down the field, the ball getting stolen one way or the other. Once, Adarlan got close to scoring but the goalie for Doranelle was quick to block it and pass it back down the field. Another of Rowan’s teammates was quick to get it back toward the Adarlan goal. It was passed back and forth between a few as they worked further and further down the pitch until a pass from Connall’s twin had the ball being juggled between Rowan’s feet.

Watching Rowan play brought back the old feelings she felt watching Aedion. Her competitive temper rose in her chest as he sprinted downfield with the ball between his feet. Somehow, he never tripped or stumbled. When he passed it off to a dark-haired man, Vaughan, Connall told her, it was with tricky footwork that he made look easy. Seconds later and a single pass back toward him, Rowan lunged from behind a crimson jersey. By some grace of the gods he managed to land the perfect kick that arched beautifully through the air. Adarlan’s goalie missed it by a fingertip.

The bar became deafening– some of them rooting for Doranelle, others wanting them to lose for the sake of Varese’s team. On the TV, Rowan’s teammates pulled him off the ground and jostled him amongst them, Connall’s golden-haired brother smacking a kiss to Rowan’s sweaty forehead.

If Aelin didn’t know any better, she would say his teammates were being a little more gentle with him than they might be otherwise. Rowan’s jaw remained clenched tightly, that muscle feathering as he nodded to the only person on the team that was taller than him where he stood down the field.

“Who is their goalie?”

“Lorcan Salvaterre. Team captain and one of Rowan’s closest friends. My twin’s name is Fenrys.” Aelin nodded and rested her chin on her hands as the next play started, polished blue nails digging into her palms. She knew of most of these names from Aedion’s soccer days and the afternoons at her parents house where her father prattled on about different team rosters.

The minutes ticked by, Rowan fiercely focused on the game. That look of sheer determination never left his eyes, even in the brief moments of reprieve he had to gather his wits. Whenever he could, Connall hovered near her for the moral support she’d come in search of. It meant more to her than she could ever put into words. Being in a new city, far away from her support system, with no one else to lean on? It was really nice to know he was there. Even if they barely knew each other.

When Adarlan scored, Aelin had over half the pub groaned. The Doranelle players looked beyond pissed. Rowan and Lorcan shared matching expressions, both of their jaws grinding as they shook their heads before getting back into position.

It led them into more volleying back and forth, the ball little more than a blur between feet. And then it was back in Rowan’s possession. It was like the wind sang for him, pushing him faster as he bolted down the field. Almost as soon as he made his goal, the one that would get them a point ahead though, a whistle blew and a yellow-checkered flag was waving.

“Shit,” she murmured, closely eyeing the playback. It was a fair call, he had been offside. When the camera showed Rowan again though, he was pointed at the goal, mouth wrapping around words that looked a lot like fucking bullshit. The words weren’t more than a whisper as she said, “Rowan, you stupid idiot.”

Connall chuckled, despite the dire situation at hand. She knew he was only laughing at her, not his friend’s situation. Still, she wadded up a napkin and threw it at his head. It nailed him in the temple.

“It’s not funny,” she hissed, nibbling on the end of her straw, a sick feeling roiling in her gut.

The referee pulled a yellow card brandishing it in front of his face. A spark of anger flickered behind his eyes, mouth opening to spew something else when Fenrys grabbed him by the shoulders and made him turn away. Aelin exhaled a tight breath as Rowan shook his head on screen. Fenrys said something in Rowan’s ear and he nodded, lips thin in a stiff line.. It was enough to make him nod and hustle to his spot on the field, shaking his arms out when he came to a stop.

Beneath the bar, Aelin’s legs were bouncing. Butterflies flitted their way through her insides enough that she braced her hands against her stomach as though it would calm them. It was impossible to look away as Adarlan took their free kick from the offside, launching the ball halfway down the field and into another frustrating back and forth between the two teams.

This was always the part of the sport that Aelin hated. No, perhaps hated was too strong of a word. The build up always made her feel nauseous, waiting for one team to make one quick move to kick everyone into high gear to avoid a goal or make one. Being pregnant, it was worse. It felt as though her stomach was in the back of her throat.

Just before the end of the second half, disaster struck. Aelin saw it coming. She was pretty sure everyone watching at home or in the stands did, too. Connall swore filthily as Rowan ran for the ball and dove feet first to knock it away from Adarlan. Except in the process, his cleats clashed into the other player’s feet and they both went down in a heap on the field.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Connall asked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the screen as a ref jogged across the pitch.

“I told him to win and maybe we would talk! I didn’t tell him to–” A yellow card appeared in the ref’s hand, followed by a red one and Aelin lost all of her words. Both were for Rowan.

“I think he took that a little too do or die.” And so it seemed he had.

Distantly, she heard the announcer saying it was the first time he’d ever been red carded in his entire career. The patron’s of the bar murmured amongst themselves, many of them asking what the hell was wrong with Whitethorn tonight.

The cameras zoomed in to where he walked off the field, sweat trickling down his face. Their coach followed him to the end of the field, the words he muttered only for Rowan to hear. Though he looked ready to hit anyone that was close enough, Rowan simply nodded. Fenrys caught his arm just before he walked off, mouth moving too quickly for Aelin to decipher.

The last clear shot of him was walking into the tunnel and off the pitch, body rigid and muscles rippling while he pulled his jersey off his body.

“I… I need to go,” Aelin said to Connall, who only nodded in response. She threw a few bills on the counter as a thank you and pushed her way out of the pub, walking as fast as her feet would carry her to her rental car down the street.

~*~

Even though his team had another win under their belt by the time the game was over, it had been a fucking disaster. Rowan watched the second half on his phone from the comfort of his car after getting kicked out.

It was the first time in his eleven year career he’d ever received two yellow cards, and consequently a red card, and been ejected from a game. All that anger and frustration from the week, from his hangover, had boiled to a head and exploded on the field. Next week he would have to sit out, too.

Failing his teammates didn’t sit right with him. Lorcan was probably fuming and Rowan anticipated a less than friendly visit from him tomorrow. Coach Malakai was mad, too. The last thing he told Rowan was to get his shit together before practice on Monday. Only Fenrys, who never missed a chance to be a jokester about anything, had murmured words of encouragement before he left the field.

By the time he pulled into his driveway, he was exhausted. His entire body ached from that last dive. There would definitely be bruises on his hips and thighs tomorrow from the way Ress Taylor landed on top of him. All he wanted to do was let his muscles thaw under a shower so hot it burned. A glass of whiskey would be great, too. Not that he deserved it after his performance on the pitch.

The game was… rough.The entire day was rough. From the time he’d woken up his mood had been in the pits of hell. Drunk Rowan hadn’t been able to piece together what Aelin said just before they hung up, but sober Rowan did as soon as his alarm sounded.

Win your game tomorrow.

Not win the game, like she used to say when she thought he was the coach. She didn’t ask him to wish the boys good luck like she had in the weeks prior. The words had changed. Win your game. The game he would be playing in, that belonged to him. She had given him a personal goal and though he helped his team achieve it, he still felt like he failed. Especially since he would have to sit out next week, too, because of the red card.

It had been stupid of him to think she wouldn’t find out the truth before he had the chance to tell her. Everything had just gone to such absolute shit before he had the chance. Rowan Whitethorn would be groveling at the feet of Aelin Galathynius for the duration of his life, and then some more after he crossed into whatever afterworld awaited him.

The news of his career was just another lie he had to make right. All day it sat with him, festering like an open wound. It wasn’t that he suddenly felt bitter about his job. He didn’t. Rowan loved what he did, he loved the sport. It was his greatest passion and love in life. But Aelin deserved to hear about it from him. Not knowing how she found out only made it worse, until everything he felt was bleeding out into the astroturf beneath his feet and getting him thrown out of a game.

Upon pulling into his driveway, something white in front of his house caught his eye. His heart came to a stop as soon as his car did. Rowan didn’t even bother to pull into his garage, just parked beside the white SUV and stared at his porch. It felt like a fever dream, getting home from a hard game and seeing Aelin on his porch swing. The wind slowly moved her back and forth, but when she saw him step out of the car she stood, hands sliding into her back pockets.

“I told you to win, not get a red card before the second half was up.” The lilting tone of her voice made his knees buckle. It forced him to gather himself before approaching, slowly walking up the stairs until he stood one below her.

“My mouth keeps getting me in trouble this week, it seems,” he said back, mouth completely dry. It was an effort to make his tongue form the words with his lips. “But it got you to my house, so I suppose there are worse things that could have happened.”

“Few things are worse than a red card.”

“Not talking to you might beat out all of them,” he said smoothly, fingers sliding along each of his keys until he found the one for his front door. He held it up between two fingers and Aelin nodded, stepping to the side and gesturing toward the door.

She wore simple leggings and an oversized t-shirt, a pair of socks and slides on her feet. Though she wore no makeup and her hair was twisted half-hazardly onto the top of her head, she had never looked so beautiful. Lorcan would laugh himself hoarse if he heard the thoughts Rowan had about this woman, yet he didn’t care. Even in her most dressed down and casual state, she was breathtaking.

He led her inside, locking the door behind them. It was late enough he assumed she would be staying for a while. Few people made a nearly two hour drive to turn around and leave upon arrival. Then again, he hadn’t seen last weekend going that way, either, and it’s exactly how that night ended.

“You played…”

“Shittily,” he offered, hanging his keys on a small hook by the front door.

“Brutally,” Aelin amended, slipping off her shoes and heading to the kitchen. Rowan watched as she grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and handed one off to him before heading for the couch. “Have you eaten?”

“No. Have you?”

“Not since lunch.” Phone in hand, she curled up in the corner and pulled a blanket over her lap. “I doubt we have any notable options, but Taco Bell is open and is shockingly one of the few things not making me sick at the moment.”

Rowan watched her from where he stood in the center of the room. It didn’t feel real. None of today did, really. It could be the hangover talking, but the day felt like a horrible dream. He was scared to move, scared that if he sat on the couch with her that she would vanish into nothing and he would wake up alone in his bed.

“Are you going to just stand there all night?” Her eyes didn’t leave her phone while presumably selecting everything she wanted to eat, eyes narrowing at the screen briefly in thought. A moment later she held it out for him. Rowan stared at her, heart thundering away in his chest. “Rowan.”

“Right. Thank you,” he murmured, taking the phone and trying not to acknowledge the rush he felt when his fingertips grazed her palm. Not big on fast food most of the time, it took him a little longer to pick his dinner. “What do I owe you?”

Aelin just snorted as she submitted the order, eyes rolling slightly before placing her phone face down on the couch next to her, head tilting as she said, “Come to think of it, maybe you do. I think your twenty dollar fast food order might do me in completely. I’ll have to take out a loan.”

“I can Venmo it,” Rowan said dumbly, reaching for the phone in his back pocket.

“I don’t need your money any more than you need mine.” Once there might have been a teasing edge to her voice. Her delivery was much drier than he was used to from her. But there it was. That stupid thing he’d said before he could stop himself, the words that brought everything they were building crashing down.

“Sit,” she told him, patting the cushion next to her. Rowan was careful to leave plenty of space between them. There were definitely lines and boundaries now. The risk of getting ensnared in one was too great and he had a lot of apologies to make. With his arms elbows braced on his knees and hands clasped loosely between them, he stared at the floor.

“You’re actually getting a pretty sweet deal.” Aelin sighed, shifting so she was facing him full on. His green eyes didn’t leave the rug. “According to google my net worth is two-and-a-half times what yours is. Isn’t that crazy?”

“I didn’t know,” he finally said. As much as he wanted to look at her, he couldn’t. He was a fucking coward. Guilt was a disgusting, oily thing crawling beneath his skin. It threatened to consume him whole even worse now that he was talking to her than it had the rest of the week.

Aelin sighed again, finally pulling his attention to her face. She laid her head back against the sofa and a few tendrils of hair fell down to frame her face. Rowan’s fingers curled into fists to fight the urge to sweep them behind her ear. She must have sensed it because she did it herself. The blue of her fingernails was the same blue as his jersey. Part of him wondered if it had been on purpose.

“I think tonight we can call a truce.” Aelin seemed to notice his gaze on her fingers because she folded her arms over her chest, curling her hands so her blue nails were hidden. “We’ll eat, sleep, and then tomorrow… Tomorrow we’ll talk.”

“Okay,” he agreed. The word was falling off his tongue as soon as she finished speaking. Her cheeks seemed to twitch with amusement, and if he had reacted differently last week she would probably be smiling.

“I am curious, though. Did you make an instagram for the sole purpose of stalking me?”

Rowan cringed. His eyes squeezed shut, lips rolling between his teeth as he looked away. Beside him it sounded like Aelin laughing, though it was little more than puffs of air coming out of her nose. It would have been easy to go on the defensive, to add one more lie to their crumpled house of cards. Instead, he went with the truth.

“I missed you. I just wanted to see your face.” He looked back over at her then, but it was she who looked away now. Her eyes were glassy, the dim lighting making the unshed tears in her eyes sparkle. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s these fucking hormones.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand when he started to reach for her. It stung more than he would ever let on, but he retreated and dropped his hand into his lap while she used the collar of her shirt to dry her eyes.

It was silent after that, the two of them alternating from staring at nothing to sneaking glances at the other. Rowan only knew because he caught her staring at him more than once when he thought he could take a second to drink her in. It was only when the doorbell finally rang and he stood that she said his name, stopping him when he was halfway to the front door. Turning to look at her, eyebrows raised in question, he watched her lick her lips.

“I missed you, too.” It was barely a whisper, spoken so softly he might have dreamed it if he was any more tired.

Still, it was enough to get him through the rest of their silent night. Enough that it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would when he insisted she sleep in his bed without him. Enough to chase him with sweet dreams when he finally slipped into the guest room down the hall and tumbled into a deep sleep.

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shyvioletcat · 9 months

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Oh hi! Yes, This is something a little new and different, especially for @sjmcrackshipmonth. For Pirate Day my wonderful friend @sassyhobbits and I came up with a little idea, she came up with this wonderful artwork and I wrote a fic and we had so much fun. So, without further rabbling here is my first official Aelin x Fenrys work.

CW: it’s smutty, like really smutty. Secondhand embarrassment

FIND THE ACCOMPANYING ARTWORK HERE.

~~~~~

People told Aelin she was mad for running a tavern in a pirate port, and at times she would have to admit that they were right. Brawls were common, there had been damage to the ceilings from more gunshots than she could count, when things truly got out of hand there was an occasional stabbing. Aelin had threatened carousers here and there herself down the barrel of the pistol she kept stowed away in a dark corner of the counter. But for all its trouble the White Stag thrived under her charge. She could never be idle and a tavern in a pirate port like this was a lucrative business. And it wasn’t like she was without protection.

Rhoe Galathynius was the most prominent merchant in Orynth, which made him a veritable king amongst men. Coin was the power in these waters, and their city on the river thrived under his watchful eye and scheming. So the fancy, looping gold lettering of her family name under the wood carved sign of the rearing white stag hanging above her door let patrons know who they were dealing with. It was an assurance for both her and her customers that serious misdeeds would be met with severe punishment, and that kept people coming to her fine establishment night after night.

Tonight was busy, patrons filling nearly every space they could. It was good for business but it was running Aelin off her feet. Usually she was content to watch from the landing above the main floor or slip through the crowd mingling, leaving the bartending to those she hired. But tonight with a barmaid ill that’s where Aelin found herself—pouring pint after pint, the pockets of her skirts full of coin. The gossip was that a few ships had docked over the past few days, bringing an influx of commerce and bodies to the city. Aelin hadn’t caught the names of the ships, but from the energy the city hummed they must have been successful with their seaborn endeavours.

“Lass, two more!” A man weathered by wind and salt called to her. From the way he swayed he probably didn’t need another, let alone two, she would have to cut him off after this.

Aelin grabbed two tankards from below the bar and filled them with beer from the keg behind her. By the second the flow was slowing, a sure sign she’d need to send Ren down to the cellar for another. His main job was to provide muscle when things got out of hand as pirates and their affiliates tended to do. It was just convenient for her that his muscles were useful for other things as well. When she had a moment to breathe she’d have to track him down.

“All clean,” Luca said, setting down a clean crate of tankards. “And more to wash I see, my hands will be shrivelled as prunes by the end of the night.”

“My apologies, but I’ll be sure to compensate you accordingly,” Aelin took a handful of her green overskirt and shook it enough that the coins in her pocket jingled.

Luca’s eyes lit up as the crate of dirty tankards was set in front of him. “I’ll get these cleaned up right away.”

Aelin smiled then started unloading the clean drinkware that would be dirty again all too soon. She didn’t bother to make the arrangement look tidy, on a night like this no one would notice. Feeling sweat gather on her brow Aelin dotted it away with on her sleeve. It wasn’t a particularly hot night but with the amount of bodies in the tavern and how busy it was, her temperature wasn’t surprising. She was glad of the stray breezes that would brush over her shoulders, bare from the way her blouse draped off them.

“Spare a drink for a poor, weary sailor?”

The question came from behind her, smooth and sensuous, the words were nothing but a tempting caress over her skin. Aelin knew that voice and knew its full intent, even though it had been missing from her tavern for months. As pleased as she was to hear it she made sure her smile was hidden away as she turned around slowly, a hand on her hip conveying her feigned displeasure at being interrupted. This is how they would start the game, and if he played along they would both win.

“Fenrys Moonbeam, what brings your sorry arse into my tavern,” Aelin drawled.

Fenrys’ smile was pure taunt and flirtation. “The rum and the company of course.”

“So the rum takes precedence over the company then?” Aelin said, stepping up to be just a little closer.

“Ah, Princess,” Fenrys said, leaning his elbows on the counter that was still between them and not bothering to hide the appreciative sweep his eyes did over her. “You know what the truth of it is.”

Aelin couldn’t help it, she felt the corner of her lips tilt into a crooked smile. But she also wasn’t about to concede, “Do I, though? Nary a word all these long months, for all I knew you had found a more favourable port and run off with a prettier girl.”

“Prettier than you? I think I’d be hard pressed to find someone as lovely as you, Miss Galathynius,” Fenrys said.

“You’re flattering me for a free drink,” Aelin accused.

Fenrys tipped his head back and laughed. “Is it working?”

There was a thunk as the short glass hit wood, and then Aelin was pouring out a measure of her best rum. “Yes.”

Their fingers brushed as Fenrys took the glass and he downed it. While he was occupied Aelin took the opportunity to peruse over him. First she looked for any sign of injury, pirating had its many dangers but from what she could see there were no noticeable hurts. Fenrys looked good, he always did. His golden sunkissed curls were tied back from his face showing off the perpetual smile that seemed to grace his lips. The blue coat he wore was very dashing, with the cut of it accentuating the broadness of his shoulders. Ever the flaunter he’d chosen a white shirt that dipped low, the white of it contrasting the deep bronze of his skin made deeper from the hours he spent in the sun. He’d been gods’ blessed with handsomeness that could only be dreamed of, and an ego to match. Some found him insufferable, mainly those who lacked a sense of humour or any idea of fun. For Aelin, he was an utter delight.

She was called away before they could continue their conversation, but Fenrys didn’t go anywhere. He lingered at the bar, claiming a stool when one became available.

“The next one will cost you,” Aelin said, wiping down the counter so it looked like she had a reason to stop.

“Always such a hard businesswoman.” Fenrys didn’t protest and dropped two coins on the worn wood.

Aelin slid them off into her and then her pocket. “What will it be?”

“That sweet Perranth wine if you have it,” Fenrys requested.

“You’re in luck, my supplier just brought in a delivery yesterday,” Aelin wasted no time, because she didn’t have it, and poured Fenrys a tankard of wine. Glasses were for quiet gatherings, not an overcrowded tavern where it was likely to be knocked out of an unsuspecting hand and shattered on the floor.

“My thanks,” Fenrys tipped his drink at her.

Aelin left him to his wine and tended to the never ending flow of patrons looking for food and drink. Fenrys just stayed sitting there and making sure to catch her eye whenever she passed by. There was no question as to why he was here.

One evening a year or two ago Fenrys had come in with the crew of the Maeve. That night had been vastly different to this, with Fenrys and his crewmates nearly the only customers for the evening. That had allowed an easier night for Aelin with more than enough opportunity for conversation with the charismatic man—not with the others because they were a sullen and broody bunch—and eventual flirting. As the night wore on, she and Fenrys ended up on a low couch by the fire. Along with his staggering handsomeness, he was also highly entertaining. His ludicrous stories had Aelin’s sides hurting with laughter and he was kind enough to ply her with enough compliments to keep her by his side. And when it was just the two of them left basking in the fire’s warmth and Fenrys leaned in, she’d let him kiss her. Which led to Aelin guiding him up the stairs and to her room where they kept each other company in other ways.

Since then, whenever he was in port Fenrys appeared in her tavern and they spent what time they could together until he was called away to the sea again. His captain was a hard bastard and didn’t see the point to lingering on land. The first mate wasn’t much better. Aelin had more than her fair share of run-ins with Rowan Whitethorn—none of them ending well. Their arguments had become legendary. She was more than sure that she hated him and that the feeling was mutual.

Fenrys couldn’t be more different than those men, vivacious and brash, he was more than enough a match for her when it came to wit. It was hard to find a flaw in the man. With so much in his favour, Aelin was still unsure whether or not she was in love with him. He was gone too often and for too long for any real emotion to take root. But at the very least they were friends, and they had fun. Without Fenrys her life would be far more dull and the unexpectedness of his arrival always gave their trysts a thrill. If he ever gave up seafaring maybe she could love him more than she did. There was a wildness to Fenrys that only the sea could soothe. Life on land just might bore him to death.

Despite the lack of attention, Fenrys remained, his thumb running over a loose nail that was poking out of the wooden counter. Aelin made note to fix that, she didn’t need the complaints of an unobservant patron who hurt themselves or ripped their clothing. She had to commend Fenrys for his patience, a lesser man might have run off by now.

“How has your day been, Miss Galathynius?” Fenrys asked when Aelin stopped near him to pour out a measure of rum for another customer.

“As you can see, I’m very busy tonight,” Aelin told him, watching his eyes shine as he sipped.

He didn’t look away as the tankard lowered. “I can wait.”

Aelin wanted to sigh in self pity, but she didn’t. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“You can bet on it,” Fenrys said, his words a sensual promise.

Aelin passed off the tankard to the patron who gave her the money in exchange, when there was a call for more beer it reminded her of the impending problem. “Make yourself useful and I might think about it.”

Fenrys’ head titled, the beaded lock of his hair swaying. “How so?”

“I need another one of these,” Aelin said and slapped the keg behind her, “brought up from the cellar.”

Finishing off his wine far quicker than it deserved Fenrys got up from his stool. “It would be my pleasure.”

Aelin pulled out the ring of keys that she tucked into the wide belt around her waist and handed them over to the pirate. “Do not cause me more trouble than you're worth down there.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Fenrys said with a wink, fingers grazing over the outside of her palm and up her fingers. Despite the heat of the room and the busy fluster Aelin had worked herself into she shivered. That was the first time they had touched and that soft caress had her craving more.

She didn’t have long to dwell on that as she was summoned again and was more than occupied while Fenrys was gone. Drinks were poured one after the other, bowls of Emrys’ chowder went out from the kitchens, the way this was going Aelin wouldn’t be done until the sun came up. Gods knew if Fenrys would be around that long. Aelin groaned, cursing her bad luck. The one night Fenrys would be assuredly in Orynth she would be run off her feet and too busy and too tired to enjoy his company.

Before too long the Fenrys was back, keg on his shoulder to keep it out of the way of the patron’s heads—very considerate. He stepped behind the counter, easing the fresh beer onto the empty stand and expertly fixed the tap. With his job done Fenrys grabbed himself a tankard and helped himself to the first serving. Aelin didn’t bother to stop him, she just gave him a crooked smile and a playful roll of her eyes. He stayed where he was, even though he shouldn’t. Aelin ignored his antics and grabbed two tankards for her own uses. As she leaned over to fill them with beer a broad hand rested on the small of her back, deft fingers tucking her keys back into her belt. With two tankards full, Aelin straightened, one in each hand, and found her path blocked.

“Out of my way, please,” she huffed and then blew at a loose strand of hair. She had tied a scarf around her head in an effort to keep her hair out of her face. The flustering conditions and the humidity weren’t helping the intent.

“Where are you going?” Fenrys asked, standing a little taller but not leaving for where he should be as a paying customer.

Aelin took advantage of the space she could, easing through the small gap Fenrys left between his body and the counter, careful not to spill the beer. “To those people in the corner, I promised I’d bring it over once you had done your job.”

She thought she was free and clear when troublesome hands on her hips stopped her progress. “Do I get a thank you for that?”

The annoyed smirk that lacked the needed irritation was already on her face when she looked up at him. Fenrys was a good head taller than her, his face was full of mirth and all but begging for a kiss as he looked down at her. But Aelin wasn’t ready to give into him just yet.

“Have you bathed since making port, or was the allure of my company too compelling?” She knew the answer, she had noticed the lack of braids he wore while at sea, and she was sure his hair was wet when he first walked in.

That smile fell, an affronted look filled his face. “I’m offended that you would assume that, Aelin.”

“I’m offended that I wasn’t worth skipping a bath over,” Aelin told him.

That was enough of a distraction and when Fenrys laughed Aelin took her chance and stepped out of his hold. Over the commotion of the tavern she swore she could still hear his amusement chasing her through the crowd. Aelin set the foaming tankards down and accepted the generous contribution to the establishment in return. Her pocket was starting to get severely weighed down, she might have to duck up to her rooms to empty it into her coffer.

Her return to her task as barmaid was slower than anticipated, many patrons stopping her for greetings and snippets of gossip. Aelin liked to know what was going on in her city so she listened to all of it, tucking away bits of information that might be useful to herself or her father. Rumours were buzzing that the Maeve had been quite successful on its latest voyage and promised more profit. A hoard of treasure maps was cited as the reason. She might have to ask Fenrys about it.

Eventually Aelin made it back to her post and was surprised to see a small woman with dark hair seated next to Fenrys. They chatted, and the woman laughed at something he said, even touching his forearm that rested on the bar. If Aelin didn’t recognise the woman she might have been jealous. The golden, smiling man was not the company her friend preferred to seek out.

“Elide, hello,” Aelin said, resting her elbow on the other woman’s shoulder.

Elide was dressed in a simple lavender gown, nothing gaudy or to draw attention. She preferred an inconspicuous life where she was the one who made the rules. Her family winery in Perranth was her’s once her parents decided to retire. In the meantime she set about proving just how capable she was.

“I was just chatting to Elide about her wonderful wine,” Fenrys said. “Amongst other things.”

Aelin raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“There was a request for a barrel to be sent to the Maeve and I had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the captain who was the only one left on the ship,” Elide explained. “Such a sullen bastard. I could barely get three words out of him before he disappeared back into his cabin. Luckily before he did he threw some coins at some boys on the dock and they carried it up the gangway.”

“I don’t know why you don’t find yourself a new captain,” Aelin directed at Fenrys.

The man just shrugged. “He’s good at what he does and I get the benefits. It’s not like I have to talk to him. I leave all that up to Whitethorn.”

“Whitethorn? Isn’t he the one who you threw a glass at that one time?” Elide asked.

Aelin huffed, the sound full of aggravation, and then went back to being behind the counter. “The very same.”

One evening for some reason beyond her, Rowan Whitethorn had graced her tavern with his insufferable presence. Nothing had been to his standards, not the beer, not the music and he had been very vocal about it. Aelin had told him to go elsewhere if the current surroundings were so offensive, he ignored her and chose to stay. When he claimed the beer was cheap and tasted like shit she had lost her temper. She had picked up a nearly empty glass of wine and threw it at him which he had effortlessly dodged, something akin to shock on his face as he watched the red liquid drip down the wall. Her demanding he pay for the damages had been the final straw and with a scowl on his sharp and handsome face he left her tavern. Aelin counted that as a win for her.

“The glass was chipped anyway, it was no loss to me.”

Fenrys looked like he was trying to keep his laughter in and like he was about to say something he’d surely regret.

“Don’t,” Aelin said, pointing a finger at him. “You’ll not say a word if you know what’s good for you.”

Yielding to her request, Fenrys held up his hands, the gold rings on his fingers glinting in the low light. “Understood, Princess. Now if you fine ladies will excuse me.”

He was gone moments later, disappearing into the crowd, but Aelin had no doubt that he would return. Fenrys was far too eager for her company to be dissuaded so easily. There was a call further down the counter for more beer and Aelin saw to that before coming back to her friend who hadn’t left.

“Can I get you anything? On the house of course,” Aelin offered.

Elide gave her a knowing look, her eyebrows raised like she could have been questioning Aelin’s sanity. “What are you doing?”

Aelin felt her own brows narrow in confusion. “Working, as you can see.”

“Aelin, my dearest, most lovely friend,” Elide said leaning forward on the counter. “You have a man here, who is desperate for your company and is more than willing to give you a long night of pleasure, and you’re passing out beers instead?”

“I don’t exactly have a choice here,” Aelin said. “Essar is ill, and you can see how busy we are. I’m not exactly the shrewd business woman I claim to be if I ignore it to take Fenrys to my bed.”

As a timely reminder yet another patron asked for a pour of wine and rum, Aelin saw to it as quickly as she could. Luck was not on her side this evening, at this rate she’d be too tired to do anything once she fell into bed.

“I won’t say that you won’t owe me for this,” Elide said, standing up from her stool, “because you will.”

“What are you…”

With quick fingers Elide braided her hair back, securing the end with a dark piece of ribbon. “Show me where everything is.”

It took Aelin a moment to catch on, her face going slack before she grinned. She showed Elide where everything she might need was, going over it twice more for her own peace of mind than her friend requiring more clarification. Aelin also made sure to inform the other’s working tonight so there wasn’t any confusion as to why Elide was behind the counter.

“Keep the tankard tilted, helps limit the foam and unhappy customers,” Aelin explained and the amber liquid rose higher as she gave a hands-on demonstration. “And I think that’s all you need to know.”

“I think I’ve got it,” Elide said.

“And if you have any trouble, call for Ren. He’ll sort it out,” Aelin added.

“Aye, captain.” Elide flourished that comment with a salute.

“What’s going on here?” Fenrys’ voice cut through the conversation.

“I need to deposit some of tonight’s earnings in my room,” Aelin said, sauntering around to the other side of the counter, a hand raising to even out the collar of Fenrys’ jacket. “Care to join me?”

His dark eyes flashed as he easily read the implications of her invitation. “Lead the way.”

Aelin took his hand, leading him through the crowd to the staircase in the corner. The crowd took up the shanty that was being played. When they passed the small gathering dancing in front of the musicians Fenrys spun her and moved with the music, but still kept them heading towards their destination. Reaching the wooden stairs, Aelin gathered her skirts in her free hand to prevent herself from tripping as they hurried up the steps. On the landing they went left, the right led to a halfway with a handful of rooms she let out. Her private ones were larger and more secluded, the balcony on the outside offering beautiful views of the river port. That door painted a rich green was the last obstacle between her and what she wanted. And in just a few more steps she would be there.

Fenrys was a heavy and welcome presence behind her as she worked on unlocking the door. His hands were on her waist, his lips on the bare skin of her shoulder, it was enough of a distraction that Aelin was struggling to secure the key in the lock. That was only made worse when those godsdamned hands slipped higher, pressing over her bodice until they cupped her breasts. That had Aelin arching onto him, and in return that had Fenrys squeezing before his hands travelled downwards again—fingers catching on the neckline of her blouse. She was desperate to feel those hands on her with nothing to hinder them.

“Fen,” Aelin whispered harshly. He just hummed his response onto her skin. “I would very much like to open the door so that we can continue this more privately.”

“My apologies,” he said, low enough that it had her skin pebbling.

Other than that he let her be, halting his distracting journey over her body. It was a disappointing loss but the sooner Aelin got the door open, the sooner they could start again.

Blocking out everything except the lock and key was the only way that Aelin managed to get the door open. She stepped into the dimly lit space, a single lamp barely glowing on a small table where she dropped her keys. There was a couch and an armchair set in front of a cold fireplace and there was another door that led to a private bathroom. The place could have been tidier, but Aelin hadn’t exactly been expecting guests. Fenrys closing the door redirected her attention, and he all but stalked towards her. To tease and make the trek that much easier, Aelin backed up towards her bedroom. She was caught just as they got to the entrance of it, Fenrys catching her by the waist and cupping her face. The moan at that first press of his lips was undeniable.

For a while that’s all they did, just kiss in the dim light under the doorway. When Fenrys’ thumb dragged down the length of her neck, Aelin got impatient. She angled them so that they entered her room with tangled steps towards her bed. Her hands weren’t idle, searching out what bare skin they could. When there wasn’t much on offer Aelin slid one hand down the centre of his chest, all the way down to palm him through his trousers. Fenrys stumbled forward with enough strength to force Aelin back a couple of steps.

“Still have your sea legs?” Aelin teased through her laughter.

Huffing his own laugh, Fenrys pulled her closer so their noses brushed. “Maybe I’ll be steadier on my knees then.”

Before Aelin could even comment his lips were back on her’s, while his focus shifted to removing her clothes. The belt around her waist was the first to go, then his deft fingers had the laces and buttons of her forest green outer skirt undone and it was dropping over her hips. There was a jingling thud as the coins hit the floor, probably scattering, but that was a problem for later. Fenrys' progress was stalled when he discovered that the laces of her undershirt were hidden beneath her bodice. His groan of frustration was comical, and Aelin would have laughed if it weren’t for the way Fenrys’ hands were playing along the tops of her exposed breasts as his mouth lowered to her neck.

Her body was tugged forward as the laces of her bodice were pulled at. Fenrys struggled, getting clumsier the more desperate he became, and even now Aelin’s patience was running thin. She needed him, now. It seemed Fenrys felt the same because one moment her floral embroidered bodice was tight against her body and the next it was falling away. Confused by the sudden development Aelin looked down to see the metallic glint of a knife and the ribbons in pieces.

“You ruined my laces,” Aelin gasped, shoving the brute back half a step. “You bastard.”

Fenrys just smirked down at her, reaching out to slip the strap of the bodice off one shoulder, “I’ll buy you more,” then he did the same with the other. “The prettiest ribbons you can find.”

Aelin let the useless piece of clothing fall off her arms, Fenrys watching her every movement. She gave him a look that said don’t touch as she saw to the underskirt herself, her untucked blouse falling to the very top of her things. Fenrys’ gaze swept over her from head to toe, once and then twice, his eyes catching on the loose neckline that was revealing just enough to drive him wild. But he didn’t move, just waiting for Aelin to dictate what happened next.

“The prettiest and the most expensive,” Aelin said.

Fenrys nodded, not taking his eyes off her for a second. “Whatever you say.”

She didn’t bother with the buttons of her blouse, instead she just pulled it over her head. When Fenrys reappeared in her vision his eyes were ravenous and his hands twitched at his side, no doubt warring with himself and the need to touch her. Aelin pulled out the head scarf and then she was bare except for the simple underwear at her hips. Her hand draped from her neck, drifting down between the valley of her breasts.

“Do you promise?” Aelin asked, smirking at the man in front of her who looked ready to erupt.

She saw the exact moment his resolve snapped, had her laughing as he rushed forward and gave his breathless answer against her lips. “Yes.”

Aelin found herself seated on the edge of her bed, her senses fleeing as Fenrys kissed her. She was half aware of him shedding his jacket and starting on the buttons of his white shirt. The thought came to her that she should help him so that his hands might be better occupied, but she never got the chance to voice it in the slightest. Because Fenrys dropped to his knees in front of her, large hands inching up her thighs. Aelin shuddered and her underwear was pulled down her legs and thrown away. A single wink was all Fenrys gave before on her.

The first brush of his tongue over Aelin’s core had her gasping, arms quaking where they braced her weight on the bed. Fenrys was one to playfully brag about the wonders for his mouth and Aelin could truly attest to every word. She buried her hand in his curls, ruining the bun he had them tied in, and gave herself over to the feeling of every nip, every press of his tongue. Aelin moaned, loud and unrestrained. It had been too long since someone had made her feel like this. The pleasure built to the point of consuming her when every ministration stopped and Fenrys pulled out of her grasp.

“The hell… what are you doing?” Aelin asked through her laboured breaths. Her heart was pounding, her body screaming to be touched again.

“I’ll never last,” Fenrys said, sounding a little mad at himself. That anger only became more evident as he yanked at his clothes to get them off. If Aelin had the wits she might have helped him, but for now she could only watch as everything was revealed to her. “I have to have you now.”

With his pants gone Aelin could see how much Fenrys meant it. The sight of his cock, hard and ready, had her unconsciously arching towards him with need. Fenrys used that to his advantage, his muscled arm wrapping around her waist and hauling them up the bed. It was Aelin who pulled him in for a kiss and from there she let herself burn.

Fenrys settled on her hips, pressing their bodies as flushed together as they could be. The feel of him was incredible, the weight and heat of his body was something Aelin had absolutely missed. His hands ran over what they could—her sides, hips and thighs—anywhere he could reach without separating them. All the while his hips drove into her’s, the length of him rubbing enough delicious friction to make Aelin dizzy with need. She writhed against him, trying her best to get him to slip inside her, even trying to distract him by biting down on his bottom lip. It didn’t work, for now Fenrys was content to touch her, not surprising considering how long he’d been at sea. Aelin knew a touched starve man when she saw, and had thrown many of them out of her establishment over the years. If this is what Fenrys needed, she would gladly give it to him and surrendered.

One hand ceased its movements on her thigh, fingers digging into her flesh to pull her open just a little wider. Aelin moaned in anticipation, feeling the head of his cock at her entrance. Fenrys continued to tease her, his unoccupied hand pressing into her side and then up, his thumb taking a moment to run hypnotising circles over the side of her breast before heading upwards again. Then he pushed her arm up and extended it above her head, his hand dragging all the way up to meet Aelin’s. It wasn’t until their hands were laced together that his hips thrusted at just the right angle he slid into her. At the feel of him seated so deep Aelin’s body bowed into the sensation instinctually, trying to draw the man above her closer, deeper. It had Fenrys groaning into the skin of her neck as they both took a moment to collect themselves before he started moving.

Aelin had expected it to be hurried and desperate, this was anything but. Each roll of his hips was slow and thorough, enough to make Aelin’s breath catch but not take it away. Maybe Fenrys had the right idea, maybe after being apart for so long he was right to savour this first time. She was sure before morning came they would have time for more than enough rounds to make up for it.

“Talk to me, Princess. Let me know you’re here with me,” he nearly begged in between kisses.

“You feel so good, Fen,” Aelin told him.

“I could say the same.” The thrust that followed that admission was sharper than the others, a sure sign he was slowly unravelling.

“You know how I like it.”

“Like what?” Fenrys asked, voice edged with desperation as Aelin moaned. “How you like what, Aelin?”

He was enough of a bastard that he would taunt and take away what was currently driving her insane until she said it, and Aelin was tired of playing. “How I like to be fucked.”

At her words, the steady pace that Fenrys had set faltered, had his body shuddering. “The things you do to me.”

His hips snapped, the angle perfect. Aelin only knew she needed more. “Gods, I need you closer.”

Fenrys rolled them both, his grip on her arse keeping them intimately connected. Aelin thought he was going to stop then, but she felt one strong thigh bend behind and then he had pushed himself up so his back lent on her headboard. Aelin panted as she sat in Fenrys’ lap, savouring the feeling this position gave her. She wouldn’t last much longer, the coil in her stomach wound with each shift of their hips.

“There you go,” Fenrys said sweetly. “I’m right where you want me.”

“Yes,” Aelin whispered. “Thank you.”

The sass that came out of near delirium earned her a rumbling laugh and lingering kiss, making Aelin’s hips roll on their own accord. That undid Fenrys and he kissed her with more urgency as the hands that hadn’t moved shifted her in his lap dragged her onto him, prompting her to move like that again. Aelin did, her hands on the headboard either side of Fenrys’ head. Once she had her rhythm Fenrys let go of her, but not for long. There was a hand on her breast, the other splayed on her pack to push her closer. The man was indeed desperate for contact, only made clearer by his next request.

“Touch me, Aelin.”

She knew he didn’t mean his cock that was still inside her, there was no way in hell Aelin would be willing to with how close she was to breaking apart. Fenrys was after something softer. Her hands left the headboard, and she touched him like he wanted. Sweet caresses over his face, sweeps over his shoulders. It urged Fenrys to move his hips faster, meeting Aelin in perfect synchronisation. His lips on her neck were not what she wanted, so she angled his face to hers, kissing him fiercely. It was his heady groan on her mouth that had Aelin breaking like a wave, pleasure rushing through every nerve of her body. She nearly screamed from the force of it, they had strung it out so long that this relief was blinding and all consuming, all Aelin could do was keep moving to drag it out as long as she could.

“Fuck,” Fenrys moaned on her mouth, helping her move on him chasing his own pleasure. “Fuck me, Aelin.”

Her over sensitive inner walls felt his cock twitch and then Fenrys was groaning as he came. Aelin kept rocking, wanting to draw it out for the both of them as long as she could. It felt too good to let it fade just yet. The way Fenrys clung to her as he caught his breath was sweet, and as Aelin’s own body calmed she ran a soothing hand over his hair. He hummed contentedly, hugging Aelin tighter against him while his lips wandered aimlessly over her skin.

Aelin chuckled. “Feel better?”

“You are too good to me,” Fenrys murmured onto her skin.

For a while they just sat there, touching and waiting for the other to move. In the end it was Fenrys, kissing Aelin deeply as he lay her down before pulling out. He didn’t bother with pants and Aelin took the opportunity to admire the view. When he was gone entirely she stretched out, feeling sated but willing for more. Aelin missed him while he was away, and it wasn’t just in the bedroom, it was the conversation and companionship as well. And now that they’d had such a gratifying release of tension there was nothing to say that they couldn’t do both at the same time.

Soon enough Fenrys returned, cloth in hand, and moments later they were cleaned up and back in each other’s arms. Aelin lay on her side facing Fenrys, and he did the same, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. She busied herself with idling tracing the scars on his chest. There were no new pale marks that marred his skin. When she ran her finger over a particularly large one low on his side Fenrys shivered.

“So I hear the Maeve and her crew have fallen into good fortune,” Aelin said.

“That would be true,” Fenrys kissed her forehead before pulling back. “Whitethorn found some maps in an abandoned cave in the Cambrian Mountains. There used to be stories of a creature in the lake that guarded them, so who knows how many years superstition won out. We’ve been more than successful.”

“Good to hear.” It was then that she noticed the blue gem stud in his earlobe. The piercing wasn’t now, Aelin hadn’t seen this earring before. She reached out to flick it. “Is that a sapphire?”

Fenrys nodded his head. “It is. Do you like it?”

Aelin shrugged, and as if she couldn’t help but be drawn to him her body inched closer. “I prefer emeralds.”

“Well,” Fenrys said, voice straining as he used his weight and a hand on her hip to urge Aelin to lie on her back. “Next time I’ll try and bring you some back. Whitethorn usually claims them all first though.”

Aelin scoffed. “Selfish bastard.”

Fenrys’ answer to that was a soft chuckle and an upward sweep of his hand over her body. Instantly Aelin's blood heated again, craving his touch and the release that would inevitably follow. Fenrys read every sign that her body was giving, propped up on an elbow as he watched her try not to writhe. His fingers had claimed the peak of her breast, teasing and pinching until it was hard. When he flicked it Aelin gasped, a hand darting out to hold him by the back of the neck. Then his mouth was on the unattended breast and Aelin gave up fighting her composure.

“You’re not ready yet,” she panted, her body bucking as need pulsed lower.

“Ah, Princess,” Fenrys said, but Aelin barely heard him. She was too focused on the hand that was travelling down her body. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have fun in the meantime.”

The only answer she could offer him was a deep moan as his thumb reached the apex of her thighs, drawing tight circles that were almost too much. Fenrys slowed down, and shifted so that both his hands and his mouth had something to do. When Aelin gasped as his fingers teased her entrance, Fenrys kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth. The sensations of his mouth, the hand on her breast and the other between her thighs had Aelin hurtling towards that peak of release. But Fenrys held her there right on the edge, forcing Aelin to open her eyes and look at him.

Fenrys’ dark eyes were full of so many sinful promises that there was no doubt what the rest of the evening would entail. “I made you a promise, Aelin. And I intended to keep it.”

With that declaration his fingers slipped into her, finding that spot and moments later she was unravelling and moaning her pleas to the gods. Aelin was in for a long night indeed.

Soft kisses and wandering hands woke her up the next morning. Her bedroom was barely illuminated by the morning light meaning it must be early. She usually got to sleep late into the morning due to the working hours she kept. But last night it had been Fenrys who had kept her up until the very small hours of the morning. Aelin groaned, this time not in pleasure—at least it wasn’t that way at first. When his hand brushed over her bare breast like that it was hard to maintain her indignation.

“Why are we awake?” Aelin mumbled into her pillow.

Fenrys kissed up her neck. “Still on ship's time.”

He was ready. She could feel the hardness and heat of him pressing into her back. It wasn’t a terrible way to be woken up and Aelin supposed she could sleep later. The White Stag wouldn’t open until after noon anyway. Aelin pushed back into him, but went pliant in his hands, a signal that she was willing to give him the lead this time. Fenrys all but growled, nipping at her shoulder and he urged her onto her stomach.

They were in a tangled mess of sheets and bedding, there was some manoeuvring on Fenrys’ part to free trapped limbs. Opening her eyes, Aelin found herself at the foot end of the bed. It seems they hadn’t bothered to put themselves to bed properly after their escapes the night before. Aelin had simply grabbed a pillow and fallen asleep where she was, the pillow she now tossed away as she was pressed into the mattress. Fenrys ran his hands over her body, stopping at her hips just to angle them how he wanted. The sleep haze fled, and want replaced it, causing a needy whimper to escape Aelin’s lips without her permission.

Fenrys started his trek up her body, his lips leading the way as they trailed up her spine. He brushed her knotted hair over her shoulder and continued to the newly exposed skin. Aelin could feel the heat of his body as he was braced over her now, a hand sneaking its way of the sheets to lay over one of her’s. That little gesture had Aelin smiling, remembering how demanding he had been for small affections last night. This morning was no different.

“I don’t think I’ve told you enough,” Fenrys said by her ear, making her skin pebble. “You’re stunning.”

“You don’t, I want to hear it more,” Aelin snarked back.

Fenrys snorted, making her laugh in turn. “Duly noted, Princess.”

He lined himself up, the swollen head of his cock pressing against her core. Aelin tried to push herself back to take him deeper, but Fenrys held her still, a silent demand to just wait. She did, it might have killed her a little but she did. Then Fenrys slid in with one delicious stroke. Aelin moaned the entirety of it, loving the feeling of having him inside her again.

“You are stunning,” Fenrys whispered, accentuating his words with another thrust. “Absolutely stunning.”

“Fen,” Aelin breathed. “More.”

Fenrys dropped lower, still holding most of his weight himself, and shifted so that they moved in a steady grind. It felt so good that all Aelin could do was let herself be swept away in everything he was giving.

“Stunning.” Fenrys’ breathing was getting harder, the word coming out nearly desperate.

Aelin was about to demand it harder—faster—when her bedroom door was unceremoniously thrown open, hard enough it slammed on her wall. No knocking, no nothing, there was someone else in her room. Fenrys nearly collapsed on top of her, he managed to stop himself before he crushed all the air out of her lungs. Aelin looked up, glaring and ready to spit her best obscenities at the intruder. The unexpectedness of their identity had the words catching on her tongue and her cheeks heating.

Because there, in her doorway was none other than Rowan Whitethorn.

“Shit,” Fenrys said, pushing the sheet her way so she could cover herself. He’s always been considerate like that.

Aelin was the first to recover. “I don’t remember inviting you into my home.”

Rowan ought to be commended for how intently he kept his eyes on her face. “Should have locked your door. Time to go, Moonbeam.”

“Piss off, Whitethorn.” That may have been the first time Aelin had truly heard Fenrys sound angry.

“I gave you orders,” Rowan said, arms crossing over his chest.

Aelin wished she had her pistol, or maybe the dagger in her nightstand, just something to threaten the infuriating man with. “Unless you plan to join us, get out.”

Rowan raised one of eyebrows, the tattoos on his face shifting. “You two should be so lucky.”

Gods, here they were chatting and Fenrys was still inside her.

Fenrys seemed to realise the same moment she did, discreetly separating them and using some of the messy bedding to cover himself. Keeping her eyes locked on the green ones, Aelin took a handful of sheet and held it to her chest as she slowly sat up, not caring what might or might not be covered. From the way that the cold morning air nipped at her skin, Whitethorn was getting at least a little bit of a show.

And right there, Aelin didn’t miss how his eyes finally darted down, just for one lingering moment before he spun around and marching through her living room.

“Now, Moonbeam!” He bellowed over his shoulder as hand racked through his shoulder length silver hair, making sure to slam the other door that opened to the landing as well.

There was a moment of charged silence and then Aelin giggled and fell back on the bed. Fenrys joined in, the intensity of their laughter increasing until they were both struggling to breathe. Fingers on her chin tilted her head to the side to see Fenrys’ dark eyes full of amusement.

“I am so sorry, Aelin.” His voice was still shaking.

Aelin shrugged. “I don’t suppose we could finish up?”

That sobered Fenrys up very quickly. “He’s likely to come back and drag me out naked into the street.”

“That would be quite the end to the story,” Aelin mused like she was considering it.

“You are pure trouble,” Fenrys said, tapping her nose.

Aelin laughed, taking Fenrys’ hand. “I could say the same about you.”

They both knew he had to go, but neither of them were willing to start the goodbye. In the end Fenrys got up with a heavy sigh, picked up his pants and started dressing. Aelin sat up, watching the disaster unfold in front of her. She thought they would have more time—at least today to enjoy themselves together and catch up. It wasn’t to be and it filled Aelin with a sudden feeling of loneliness.

“Hey,” Fenrys said as he tightened his belt. “I’ll be back in no time.”

Aelin nodded. “With my emerald”

With a crooked smirk Fenrys replied, “With your emerald.”

“Even if you have to fight that bastard Whitethorn for it,” Aelin pressed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

Fenrys’ hands landed either side of her hips, one last brief moment of closeness. “For you it would be my honour.” He picked up his jacket off the floor, shrugging it onto his shoulders. Fully dressed there was nothing left to delay him and with one final kiss, Fenrys finally said goodbye. “Until next time, Princess.”

Aelin nodded, swallowing against the tightness building in her throat. Fenrys winked then left her room. It was at the final glance of him walking out the deep green door that she finally whispered, “Until next time.”

~~~~~

I know its not the usual but I had so much fun writing these two!

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @1islessthan3books // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @mynewdreamwasyou // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @firestarsandseneschals // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @gwynethhberdara // @booknerdproblems // @larisssss // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starbornvalkyrie // @loudphantomdragon // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @rowaelinismyotp // @pullnpeeltwizzlers // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction // @gracie-rosee // @elriel4life // @rowaelinrambling // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis // @swankii-art-teacher // @grandma-noob-lord // @vanzetanze // @highlady-brittney // @story-scribbler // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren // @surielandiareendgame // @silentquartz // @live-the-fangirl-life // @whimsicallyreading // @goddess-aelin // @s-uppertime //

#sjmcrackshipmonth23 #fenlin #aelin x fenrys #throne of glass fanfiction #it might not be your thing but you might want to skip to the end #ohhh boy i might have created a monster here

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leiawritesstories · 9 months

Note

Ahaha, I have another because I’m greedy 🙈 But this prompt for Rowaelin, please??:

I put you down as my emergency contact because I don’t know anyone else in the city, and we literally only met in passing, please forgive me but I am stuck at the ER and they won’t let me leave without you.

Thank you!

hehehehe okay so both you and @tomtenadia asked for this one and I really really hope this delivers 😈😁🥰

500 followers celebration prompt fills

Word count: 2.2k oops

Warnings: some angst and hurt BUT ONLY A LITTLE BIT I PROMISE and it's followed by so much comfort

Enjoy!!

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

Aelin blinked back into reality and found herself in a hospital bed, her body covered in a cotton gown, aches and dulled pains creeping back into her consciousness as her head cleared. She shifted and found her left arm in a sling, immobilized. She shook her head gently, trying to bring up the memories of just how the hell she'd ended up in the emergency room instead of back at her hotel.

"Good to see you awake," a woman's voice said from her right. Aelin turned her head to find a nurse, about her own age, clad in the same blue scrubs as the other staff. "You've been asleep for a solid few hours, probably thanks to the medication."

"Wh-what happened?" Aelin croaked.

The nurse pressed her lips together. "Do you remember a car accident?"

Oh.

Just like that, the memories flooded back. Aelin had been sitting in the back of a taxi, heading from a coffee shop where she'd been at a casual post-session meeting back to her hotel in downtown Doranelle. As the taxi had driven through an intersection, a driver had run the red light in the opposite direction and hit the rear side of the taxi. Her memories got a little fuzzy after that, mostly just snippets of shock, confusion, flashing lights and sirens, and a vague recollection of being loaded into an ambulance.

"You remember?" the nurse asked. Aelin nodded. "Good. That's a good sign that you likely don't have a concussion." She scratched a few notes onto her clipboard. "Now that you're awake, we can finish discharging you. You're stable, so we won't need you to stay here."

"So I can go home?" Aelin signed the papers the nurse handed her.

"No."

"What do you mean, I can't go home?" Still a little out of it from the medication they'd given her, Aelin blinked at the ER nurse. "You just told me I don't need to stay."

"Let me clarify, then," the nurse replied. "You've been cleared to go home, but you have not been cleared to go home alone. You'll need someone to take you--and no, a taxi or an Uber doesn't count." A hint of a smile curled the corner of her lips at Aelin's disgruntled frown. "It's for your safety, Miss Galathynius. We don't want to see our ER patients back here within a few hours because they tried to do something they shouldn't have done."

Aelin sighed. "All right. You can call my emergency contact." She leaned back into the hospital bed. "I'd ask you to call my parents, but they live over a thousand miles away, so that isn't possible."

"As long as you have an emergency contact on file, that will be fine." The nurse placed Aelin's normal clothes in a small pile on the chair next to the bed. "I'll be back in a few minutes to let you know who's coming for you."

"Thanks." Aelin managed a half smile before tilting her head back and groaning. Gods. Of all the days and times to wind up in the ER, it had to be now, during her work trip to Doranelle. At least their healthcare system was well-funded and well-run; the staff who she vaguely remembered tending to her when she came in were polite, professional, and expertly trained. Muffling a grunt, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, gripped the handrail, and stood up slowly, careful not to put too much weight on her legs at once. Shakily, she managed to stand up and reach for her clothes.

There, she got stuck. She couldn't get out of her hospital gown alone because the damn thing was tied in the back and her damn arm was in a sling to immobilize her injured shoulder.

She'd just screamed a string of foul curses into the pillow when there was a knock on the door and the nurse reappeared. "Good news, Miss Galathynius! A Mr. Rowan Whitethorn is on his way to pick you up."

Ah, shit. The thought of Rowan Whitethorn seeing her like this was almost enough to make her wish she'd been kept at the hospital.

"All right," was what she told the nurse. "I hope he's bringing food, because I am bloody hungry."

The nurse laughed. "I'm sure he'll be able to get you all the food you want once you're out of here." She handed Aelin a small paper bag. "There is a small quantity of pain medicine in here. I'd recommend taking it once or twice a day, depending on how severe your pain is, for the next four to seven days. You can take over-the-counter pain medications as well. After seven days, stop taking the prescription medication. If there's any left, you can bring it to any pharmacy here and they'll discard it."

Aelin nodded along. "Okay. Thank you." She flashed a soft smile at the nurse, who'd been nothing but kind to her.

"Of course." The nurse offered her a small smile in return and left the room.

Aelin considered whether or not it would be worth attempting to get into her normal clothes before Rowan got there and decided that it wasn't. If he had to walk her out of the hospital still wearing the godsdamned gown, then he would. Damn shoulder.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Rowan Whitethorn pushed open the door and burst into the hospital room. His crisply pressed suit was disheveled, his tie loose around his neck, his collar undone, and his eyes were wild, almost panicky, as he crossed the room in two long strides and cupped Aelin's face in his hands.

"What the hell?!" She pulled away from him, hissing at the sharp twinge of pain caused by the sudden movement.

He stepped back, hands up. "You what the hell? Give me a fucking heart attack, why don't you, Galathynius?"

She rolled her eyes. "You barely even know me, Whitethorn. Shut it with the heart attack nonsense."

"No." He folded his arms across his chest and scowled. "Why the hell am I your emergency contact?"

"Because I'm a thousand miles from home, I don't live here, and you're the only person at this fucking seminar that's bothered to learn my name." The small rant spilled out of Aelin before she could stop it. "I needed to have someone on file, and your stupid face is the first name I thought of. You're lucky I had your business card, or I'd be stuck here until I convinced the nurse that I could Uber back to my hotel without dying."

Rowan's cranky expression morphed into mild shock, then concern. "So you weren't going to explain why in all hell your arm is in a sling and there's bruises all over you?"

"They're not all over me," she huffed. "There's some minor bruising on my clavicles, arms, and left cheek. And anyone who asks why I'm wearing a sling deserves to be told to shut the fuck up."

"Fair enough," he admitted. "Fine. I'll drive you back to your hotel." He offered one hand.

She held up her good hand. "Not so fast, Mr. Business. I need to change into my own clothes." She frowned. "But with this bloody sling, I can't get the gown untied."

To her immense shock, a blush spread up his angled cheekbones. "Um...should I call the nurse?"

"This is an ER, Whitethorn, not the regular hospital ward," she deadpanned. "I've been discharged, so as far as they're concerned, I'm no longer their patient. You can help me."

His blush deepened. "I..." He cleared his throat, schooling his face back into its usual impassive mask. "Fine. Tell me what you need help with."

She turned, presenting her back. "Untie the gown, please."

He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "she's trying to kill me" and carefully untied the gown, keeping his hands as far from her skin as possible. Which wasn't very far, since he was literally undressing her.

Aelin was still wearing her bra and underwear beneath the gown, and because she wanted to have a little fun, she let the gown drop to the floor instead of holding it up to herself. Rowan emitted a strangled cough and wheezed behind her. She smirked. "Is something wrong, Whitethorn?"

"Nothing," he grunted through clenched teeth. "Where are your clothes?"

"On the chair. Hand me my pants, please." He did, and she pulled on her slacks. "Blouse." The blouse was a little more trouble. Aelin got it halfway on and stopped, unable to wrangle her sling arm into the unbuttoned blouse. "Shit."

"Here." Unexpectedly, Rowan had picked up her sweater and draped it over her injured arm, careful to keep his touch light. He let her slip her good arm into the other sleeve, then buttoned the three big buttons on the front of the loose sweater. "Does that help?"

"Yes." She flashed him a small, hesitant grin. "Thanks."

He clutched his chest. "Polite words from Aelin Galathynius? What world is this?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be a jackass, Whitethorn, just let me grab my purse and we can get the hell out of here."

"Not so fast." He snatched her purse before she could reach it. "Are you supposed to be carrying this?"

"I still have one good arm," she sighed. "Give it to me." He raised one pale brow in disbelief. "Yes, Whitethorn, I can carry my purse. It's not too heavy for the limit they gave me."

Satisfied with that answer, he handed her her purse and held the door open as she walked out. "I'm parked kind of far away," he admitted as they left the ER building. "Couldn't find a closer spot."

"It's okay," she reassured him. "It's my arm that's injured, not my legs."

Her traitorous legs chose that very moment to wobble, betraying her strong façade.

"Mhmm," Rowan drawled, a smirk curving his lips.

She scowled. "Shut it."

He mumbled something indecipherable and, without warning, lifted her off her feet. "We'll actually get somewhere if I don't have to put up with your toddling," he teased.

Aelin's mouth dropped open. "Toddling?!"

His smirk grew. "Tell me you weren't as unsteady as a toddler and I'll call you a liar, Ae." The nickname fell from his lips as easily as his dry sarcasm.

"You're horrid," she grumbled, folding her arms.

"And look at that, we're already at my car!" he announced, triumphant. She sighed and let him help her into the passenger seat.

As they headed down the streets towards downtown Doranelle, Rowan flicked a glance over at her. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

"Remember the accident that blocked up half of downtown earlier this afternoon?" she asked. He nodded. "I was in the taxi that got hit."

If he hadn't been driving, he would have stopped in his tracks. "You--what?"

"Rowan." Instinctively, she reached over and placed her good hand on his forearm. "I'm okay. It wasn't a huge crash."

"It wasn't--Aelin, do you know what happened at that intersection?"

"I remember my taxi getting hit."

His throat bobbed. "The driver that hit your taxi skidded on black ice and T-boned another vehicle. It was...it was bad."

She gasped. "I had no idea."

"Of course not," he murmured. "You were injured, Ae." He shifted one hand off the steering wheel so he could wrap it around her good hand. "There were some serious injuries, but everyone made it to the hospital in time and it seems like they're all stable. Police arrested the driver for DUII and reckless driving." His thumb rubbed across the back of her hand. "It's been all over the news and social media."

"I had no idea," she repeated, softly. "I...I'm glad everyone seems to be okay." She leaned back into the seat and was quiet for the rest of the drive back to her hotel.

At the hotel, Rowan surprised her again by parking, helping her out of the car, and grabbing a small duffle bag from the backseat of his car before accompanying her inside.

"What are you doing?" she hissed under her breath as he walked beside her to the elevator, his steadying hand on her lower back.

"I've been given orders to see you safely home," he drawled, mirth lighting his eyes.

She frowned. "I'm at my hotel, in case you haven't noticed."

He nodded. "You are. And I'm going to make sure you get to your room safe and sound."

"You going to pat me on the head and tuck me into bed, too?" she griped.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind putting you to bed, Aelin," he whispered into her ear. The heat concealed in his lazy words barreled down her spine, awakening a part of her that had absolutely no business being so active when she was supposed to be resting and recovering.

She stepped out of the elevator before Rowan and led him down the hall to her room, where she stopped, took a deep breath, and pressed her key card to the lock. The small screen flashed green, the door unlocked, and with her hand on the half-open door, Aelin turned to face Rowan, her calm voice belying her thundering heart.

"Stay with me, Ro?"

More emotions than she could count flashed across his face. He followed her into the hotel room, closed the door, and leaned himself against the door frame, resting the weight of his gaze on her.

"I'd love to."

~~~

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#my writing #answered prompt #leia's 500 followers thing #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #liiiiiittle bit of angst #just a bit i swear #and tons of hurt comfort #emphasis on comfort #i would never hurt my babies idk what you mean

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wordsafterhours · 7 months

Text

Songs About You - Chapter 15

Author's Note: Buckle up and enjoy this fluff fest. I worked so long on getting this chapter right and I think it still fell short. But I just love this time of year. Fall and Winter are my bread and butter, especially Christmas. I'd like to live in a Hallmark movie and make zero apologies for it. In the next few updates, we will be seeing more explanation onto what happen to her parents, more details on Arobynn's betrayal, and Gavriel and Aedion's exile from Aelin's life.

*Unedited update. I couldn't wait.

Triggers: I can't think of anything crazy that would need to be listed

Word Count: 9.8k (I haven't written college papers this long)

Masterlist

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Still quite bemused with herself, Aelin dawdled through getting dressed and making her way down the stairs. Several familiar voices deep in conversation reached her ears long before she found them in the foyer, digging through dusty boxes.

“Does she have decorations for every occasion? I’m pretty sure I’ve looked through thirty boxes and only found one with Yulemas stuff,” complained Dorian.

“Her family was big on celebrating any and everything. It was magical coming here as a kid. Trust me, the Yulemas decorations far outnumber anything here three to one,” Elide stated matter-of-factly.

The dark-haired male dramatically whined and started opening another box. Aelin decided to take pity on him, “The items in question are in the basement and carriage house.”

“Oh, hey there. I didn’t realize you’d come down.” Elide’s cheeks tinged pink with her admission, clearly flustered at having been caught unaware.

The blonde said nothing, leaning casually against the wooden banister to her left, patiently waiting for anyone to divulge an explanation for the scene at hand. Elide dusted off her hands against her jeans and smiled tensely. “I’m sorry about last night. You were right to be upset and after you left, I was such a mess trying to figure out how I was going to apologize. A little birdy told me the house wasn’t decorated and I decided that it would be the best apology I could muster.”

Her friend bounced anxiously up and down while she talked, a telltale sign of how unsure she was of herself right now. Aelin knew it had taken a lot for Elide to show up uninvited, especially given how last night had gone, and in taking such a bold move to decorate the house. Yulemas wasn’t the same since her parents passing and even less so after exiling the only family she had left. Each year, as December fell, she longed to pull out the boxes, to put up trees and wrap garlands around the columns, yet it never came to fruition.

Chaol had tried it to snap her out of it, but after one too many meltdowns, he’d just stopped. He’d always get her a gift and then head south to Adarlan, to spend it with his father, Dorian, and Dorian’s family. It was easier that way. No fake smiles, pretend happiness, or unwanted melancholy chasing away the holiday joy.

If the very idea of this holiday hadn’t been artfully avoided, the decorations’ locations would be a forgotten memory, beyond her grasp. But her mind cruelly remembered what each and every box had, where it lived, and whose job it had been to put it up. Yulemas used to be the one thing worth waiting for as a kid. Not her birthday, summer, visits from Aedion, or traveling the continents—it was and had only ever been Yulemas.

As the air cooled and the calendar marked December 1st, her mother was hiring local city folk and paying bonuses to landscapers to help put up all the decorations. It was a grand affair and the week before Yulemas, her parents would open their finished home for tours. Hot cocoa, cider, and sweet treats were offered. Carols would be sung, and she would play piano for their guests. Aelin lived for it. What she wouldn’t give for five minutes in one of those memories.

A very sharp delivery of her name brought her out the reminiscent reverie. She took a startled step backward in attempt to gather her bearings. Elide was in arms distance now, looking concerned more than anything. “Are you okay?”

Was she? Simple answer: no. Would that be shared? Also, no.

“Only trying to process all of you here, digging through my house.” She internally winced at the tone, knowing its harshness wasn’t deserved, but too aggrieved to cop to it.

“I wish all my friends groveled like these two,” Fen casually declared between bites of toast.

“Sharing my bed wasn’t enough, you’re eating my food, too?”

“I worked up an appetite,” he whined, dark eyes giving her a pleading look that would rival Fleetfoot’s.

Graciously, no one chose to run with the blond’s comment, sparing her from further humiliation and or drawn-out explanation. At least the day was giving something back to her, small as it was.

“Who else is here?”

“We all are, well minus Lorcan. He’s being a pain in my ass, and we can leave it at that.”

She gave a non-committal acknowledgement, staring too hard at one of the boxes Dorian had previously been looking through. If she granted them the okay to pull out the Yulemas decorations, could she bear it? Would the joy of it overshadow the grief that was picking her a part, one stitch popping at a time, threatening the remaining seams that were left.

A presence came to rest behind her and she unconsciously gravitated back. His warmth radiated across her, momentarily chasing away the chill that had settled. Even as upset as she was with him, as betrayed as she felt—Rowan had become a much-needed life raft.

He shouldn’t be.

Couldn’t be.

But yet, he was. There were somethings this world knew that she didn’t, but what she did know, undoubtedly, down to her very marrow, was that Rowan Whitethorn had been the very thing missing from hers. “It’s okay to be scared and sad, Ace, but you have to stop limiting your happiness. Take it back. You deserve joy. Elide told me how much the season means to you and it’s almost over, but it doesn’t mean you can’t partake in it. We’re all here for you. Just say yes.”

His appeal was low, warmed breath washing over the exposed column of her neck, words meant to only be heard by her. Resigned, her shoulders sagged as she nodded in wordless acquiescence.

“This is going to be so exciting!” cheered Elide, clapping her hands together in paramount enthusiasm.

At least someone was thrilled. All Aelin could feel was a ten-pound leaded weight sitting in the pit of her stomach. It was cruel how emotions could rule, define, own. She’d do anything to turn it all off; to be cold and unfeeling, if only to get through this day.

Her blue eyes stared intently, roving over every oak plank not covered by the foyer rug. One, two, three… one-hundred and fifty-one. All visible ones accounted for and the heaviness humanely lessened. She was alone, the sounds of her friends muffled, but it was clear they had wasted no time tackling the decorations.

“Better?”

Her breath caught in surprise. Why Aelin had assumed she was truly alone was beyond her. If her thoughts hadn’t consumed her so, his presence would have been felt. A lie was forming on her tongue, but it tasted bitter, too bitter to bring to life. “Not really, but I think you already knew that.”

“Perhaps. Not that you give me benefit of the doubt often, but I don’t know everything.”

An unladylike snort sounded between them. Her eyes widened in embarrassment, and she hid her face. Rowan laughed loudly, chasing away her self-consciousness, and warming her to the core. It was such a beautiful sound, carefree and unbound.

“I heard they found the sitting room decorations and some aged sheet music. Dorian said you play. Can you show me?”

“Gods what a gossip queen,” she muttered with rolled eyes.

“I know I don’t know him well, but he doesn’t seem like a vault by any means.”

“He would spill everyones’ secrets for a good romp in the sheets.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Rowan acknowledged dryly.

Expectance hung in the air as Aelin waffled between telling Rowan no or sucking it up and playing. She hadn’t played in years. The piano was surely out of tune, the ivory keys covered in a telltale dust film. It was a talent, a habit long forgotten, buried beneath a barrage of painful memories.

The feel of smooth keys beneath her fingers could never be forgotten and suddenly hers were itching to glide across them. To artfully construct notes into beautiful chords and drown out the world until only music remained. Nothing else mattered when she sat at the bench. Maybe, just maybe, that was what she needed.

“Just one song.”

“Just one song,” he agreed. He sounded somewhat surprised, but Aelin wasn’t too sure since her back was still to him.

She brushed around the foyer table and pushed apart the dark wood pocket doors, revealing a beautiful brown piano, nestled in the far corner, between a window and fireplace. Without much thought, Aelin raised the lid, and then sat down, flipping back the cover, revealing ivory and gold keys.

The piano had been a gift from her parents one Yulemas, after she’d shown promise with the instrument. It had been redone just for her; the traditional black keys replaced with gold. After the finished stretching her hands, she played a few notes to ascertain how out of tune it was.

It wasn’t as much as the thought and a small, pleased smile turned the corners of her mouth upwards. Out of her periphery, she watched Rowan’s large frame settle into one of the chairs that faced the piano. Her hands slightly trembled, the gravity of the moments to come setting her nervous system haywire.

Assuming proper position, Aelin moved to the edge of the bench with her back straight, arms out and relaxed in front of her. The opening chord notes tinkered through the air, harsher than they out to have been—her wrists were dropping. In the back of her mind, the severe chastisement of her former tutors reminded her that she wasn’t “grasping the keys”, thus her wrists were not lifting accordingly, the notes not soft.

Playing solely from memory, more than a few missteps occurred, but if Rowan noticed, he never gave it away. His green eyes were piercing, watching her with rapt attention. He could have been a stone statue if not for the occasional rise and fall of his shoulders.

Moving to the next piece, her fingers glided across the keys, caressing them in near reverence, like one would caress a lover after long being separated. Tendrils of blond hair slipped forward, partially obscuring her view of the man sitting opposite her. The wisp of privacy came at the perfect time—the crescendo was up.

Furiously, her fingers danced upon ivory and gold with precision, the familiar ache settling into her hands and shoulders. Uncertainty, grief, life—it ceased to exist as Aelin gave all of herself to the keys. It wasn’t until the last beautiful note filled the air with a resounding resonance that she let herself breathe.

Silence, the cliché type where you could hear a pin drop, settled heavily across the room. Rowan was still sitting there, wordless, jaw resting against a balled fist, watching her with an undecipherable gaze. Had she not played as well as she thought? Was he trying to find the words to critique it? Critique her? Vulnerability and anxiety came on swift wings, like thieves in the night, whisking away her joy.

His opinion should not matter, especially under the circumstances now encompassing their friendship, but it did. Rowan’s opinion perhaps mattered more than anyone’s and she hated he had that power over her. It was power she gave him, but the heart was a fickle, stubborn thing, particularly the one housed beneath her own twelve pairs of ribs. It did not adhere to the principles of logic, not now, not ever.

The statue broke from his confines, leaning forward, bracing both elbows on his knees, hands steepled. He remained quiet, his gaze still just as studious as it had been the entirety of her playing. If he didn’t say something, Aelin’s nerves were going to split apart. Vulnerability was making her it’s entire three course meal.

His warm timber reached her ears, and she stood in anticipation before he’d even said two words. He gave a faint laugh. “I think your piano needs tuning.”

Six words have never been so defeating. The small kernel of joy that had roared to life instantly snuffed out, leaving as though it had never been there in the first place. The traitorous burn along her lower lids meant tears were welling up, preparing to fall down, like water from a broken dam. Aelin prayed to the gods for the floor to split open and swallow her whole; it would be a mercy compared to this.

Angered, she roughly wiped away the moisture, pinning the silver-haired man with her gold and turquoise stare. “If you didn’t like it, you could have just lied to my face. It took every ounce of will I could muster to sit down and play for you and the only comment you can make is antagonistic? You can be a real godsdamned asshole sometimes, Ro.”

His brow furrowed and he took a step back, hitting the chair causing it to squeak sharply in protest against the oak floor. There was just enough space for her to run by him and Aelin seized the opportunity. His warm hand encircled her left bicep, stopping her before she could get out of the sitting room completely.

“Aelin, stop.”

She fought against his hold, refusing to turn and face him. His pressure became a little firmer, not enough to hurt, but enough to cease almost all of the fight. Calloused fingers twirled the errant tendrils of hair along her face and neck, and as though he had done it a thousand times prior, he tucked the hair behind her ear, tracing the shell of her ear softly.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you. I didn’t know what to say. Everything that I was thinking just seemed so trivial and underwhelming. Inadequate.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There are moments in life that define who you are. Moments that break and remake you all in the same breath. Moments that will be written on your bones for others to see long after you’re dead. Moments that you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you could revisit them because nothing will ever be as sweet.”

He was whispering now, hushed, like he didn’t want any part of the world to hear him. Secrets and words were powerful currency. Both could be used at a moment’s notice to bring someone to their knees. Aelin had learned that with the death of her parents, Arobynn’s betrayal, Aedion’s strangled pleas as she shut the door on him. If you never gave words life or shared secrets—then they could never be used against you.

“You can’t keep cutting my legs out from underneath me to protect yourself.”

“Aelin, that wasn’t my intention at all. I thought you’d call me on my bullshit with some line about how the piano wasn’t out of tune or something.”

“I showed you my underbelly. I know you could tell I was nervous. Do you really think a joke was the appropriate response?”

He snorted. “Well, now I don’t.”

Exasperation zipped up her spine and she pulled hard against his hold. If he wanted to be a prick to someone, it wasn’t going to be her. Rowan adjusted his hold before slipping his other arm around her, holding her tight to his chest. She struggled but stopped when it became apparent he wasn’t going to let up. She didn’t have to see his handsome face to know he was wearing a smug smile as he rested his chin on her head.

“I think that if I could bottle up that moment, I’d never know another sorrow for the rest of my life.”

The confession had been unexpected and brutally honest. The vulnerability in his words was profoundly tangible. A feeling all too familiar. The tension left her body as Aelin relaxed into him, taking time to process what he had said before she responded. Words, they mattered, and while he wasn’t hers, it felt like right now he was. In another life, she could turn to him and capture his lips with her own in a silent conveyance of how she felt. They were two faces of the same coin, different, beautiful apart, but whole together.

But Hellas himself would have to drag that secret out of her. No acknowledgement meant no control. This life had enough influence on her; she couldn’t afford to give it anymore. So instead of saying and doing what she wanted, she offered him a small thank you that tasted rancid on her tongue.

He continued to hold her; his strong arms wrapped comfortably tight. His shirt had moved up his arms a bit, showing off tanned skin, and the whorls of his tattoo. Later, she promised herself, she would ask him what it all said and meant. A handful of the words were known to her, but the archaic language had fallen out of favor years before her time.

“Do you think we should help with the decorations?” his question vibrated across her back.

“Why should I help with my apology gift, defeats the purpose doesn’t it?”

“Always with the smart mouth,” he declared with a pinch to her side.

“It’s part of my charm.”

“I mean if that’s what you want to call it.”

“You know what, you get to put up the 26ft tree up outside. By yourself.”

“You promise?”

He sounded too excited at the prospect. “Better yet, I’ll send Manon to help you.”

Rowan’s arms dropped from around her and he stepped into the doorway, wide-eyed.

“Snow leopard got your tongue?” Aelin’s smirk was threatening to split her face in two.

“I will take anyone else. She’s scary,” he fake whispered, looking over his shoulder while he said it.

“I know. I think it’ll be good for you.”

“I had another idea in mind.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“I was thinking you could help me. I won’t make you do any heavy lifting, and you can insult me the entire time.”

“It’s not enough. What else?”

“What else?” he said slightly taken aback.

“Mhmm, what else?” She thoroughly enjoyed how panicked he looked as he wracked his brain to come up with something agreeable.

“I’ll bring you an entire chocolate hazelnut cake the next time I come by the shop.”

“But you’ve already brought me some before. Try again.”

He ran a hand through his hair, displacing some of the silver locks. Her eyes followed and it was then she knew what she wanted.

“You can let me braid your hair?”

He suspiciously sounded like he was choking before falling into a small coughing fit. Aelin had got him, satisfaction rolling through her.

“One time. This is a one-time deal because I fucked up a lot recently and I’d do just about anything to make you smile.

“Well, I chose wisely then. We better go drag tree out of the carriage house. And check on everyone else, because it’s too quiet and with Dorian around, that’s never a good thing.”

Rowan gestured towards the foyer, allowing her the chance to head first into the chaos.

Surprisingly, most of the upstairs had been decorated and the bannisters had been wrapped in garlands. When Rowan and Aelin had surveyed everyones’ work, both shared a look of guilt at not having helped. Connall and Vaughn had moved the big boxes for them and hadn’t been seen since. Rowan asked if they needed any other heavy lifting done, but Lys, Manon, and Elide waved them off.

Taking the back set of stairs down, they wandered into the kitchen, to find Vaughn flipping through several cookbooks laid out on the counters, writing things down on a scratch paper. “Do you have a zester?” he asked without looking up.

“I should, in one of those drawers. What are you doing?”

“Well, someone has to make Yulemas Eve dinner, Aelin,” he replied like it should have been glaringly obvious.

“I normally just have takeout and pretend the day doesn’t exist,” she admitted quietly.

“Aelin?”

“Yeah, Con?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way but get out of the kitchen.”

She questioningly looked up at Rowan and mouthed, “Was it something I said?”

He jerked his head towards the back door and out they went. “He takes food very seriously. He loves to cook for everyone, and he eats pretty clean. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat takeout. He’ll eat at restaurants but spends twenty minutes picking apart the menu before eating. Its rather cumbersome.”

“So, it was something I said,” she chuckled.

“Can you two shut up or go somewhere else?” a displeased, muffled voice asked. Both turned and noted Dorian happily smothered beneath two dogs on the porch swing. Rowan had brought Elliot. She smiled to herself—it was sweet he loved his dog the way she loved Fleetfoot.

“I thought you were helping with decorations, not sleeping your highness.”

“I was in the way and Fen said I was too whiny. Besides, Lorcan showed up looking angry and pushed me off the ladder. I wasn’t going to get into it with that guy. He’d eat me for breakfast or use me as snow leopard bait.”

“And to think you’re supposed to be taking over running Adarlan.”

“Well, when I take it over, I can order someone to deal with unpleasantries like that man. Or manual labor. You know I was built to supervise.”

People told Aelin she was dramatic, which she was. But somehow, she knew they’d find another adjective to describe her antics if they had to put up with Dorian. He was lovable, fiercely loyal, fun, a good listener, but nauseatingly theatrical without much effort or thought.

“If you change your mind and get tired of lying with the dogs, we’ll be out front putting up the tree.” Rowan looked like he was ready to bite through his lip to keep from laughing.

It took twenty minutes for them to pull out all the tree boxes from the carriage house and drag them into the front yard. Lorcan and Fen had offered to help but Rowan had politely declined, letting them know if they were needed, he’d get them.

Aelin could tell Rowan was really trying to make up for last night. He’d followed each direction she’d given him to the T and done so without terrorizing her in the process. He didn’t even laugh when she tripped over an errant tree root poking out of the ground and knocked over several boxes, spilling shiny ornaments everywhere.

The tree was halfway done, and she was fluffing the faux branches, waiting for him to return with ladders so they could put the rest up. Once it was put together, they could plug it in, and see what lights needed replacement before deciding on ornament placement. Her mom had always taken ornaments seriously and hung them all herself. It took hours sometimes because she’d take several breaks to step back and look, moving the glass balls accordingly until they were perfect.

Inside, there was a Christmas tree for every room except the bathrooms and kitchen. All differed in size or style, each with their own set of dedicated ornaments. Each Yulemas, Rhoe had gotten both her and her mom a new ornament to be hung on the tree of their choosing. Some were wooden, others blown glass, and on occasion, metal. It had been years, but pain ferociously nipped at the heels of nostalgia made it feel like this was the first Yulemas without them.

In a way it was. The holidays that had been celebrated with Aedion, Gavriel, and Arobynn, had been spent at the latter’s house. It was easier that way. She thought that Arobynn had been doing her a kindness but really it was just to ensure he could keep an eye on everyone. If all ends of the knot were in your hand, nothing could unravel, providing all the reassurance you needed.

Not wanting to be melancholy when Rowan came back, she sidelined her thoughts, returning back to fluffing the branches, doing her best to fill in any bare spots. It was tedious, often cramping her hands, but there was comfort in monotonous activity. Most of it was done, but one particular branch was proving to be a hindrance. A few colorful words escaped as she tipped forward, catching a mouthful of synthetic tree.

“Are you trying to tip the whole thing over?” he asked playfully.

“If that what it takes to get that last branch fluffed, then yes,” she replied stubbornly looking over her shoulder at him.

He tipped his head back, a full-bodied and carefree laugh sounding from him. He looked like the picture she’d been admiring on the bar wall—young and happy. She could only watch him, a smile of her own forming. Rowan was handsome; the most striking man she’d ever seen but nothing compared to this, and Aelin vowed to never let this memory go. He continued to laugh as he walked up and reached above her, righting the troublesome branch.

“Is that better?”

“Yes. If you could have been a minute sooner, I wouldn’t have taken branches to the face.”

“If my defense, the appropriate ladder was in the back of the carriage house, buried under stuff. And it’s heavy. I also stopped to talk to the guys.”

“Uh huh. I just hear excuses.”

A loud squeal escaped her as Rowan’s strong arms picked up and tipped her upside down while tickling her ribs. “Excuses, huh?”

“Ye—.” She tried to speak but he continued his assault, making it too hard to answer.

“What was that? I can understand you. Words, Aelin. Use your words.”

Every time she tried to talk; he tickled her again. Her stomach hurt from laughing and her head felt heavy from being upside down. If she was lucky, he was ticklish, too. She grabbed above his knee and squeezed—he jerked and almost dropped her.

She screamed in half in delight, half in panic. Was tickling him back worth the possibility of being dropped? It wasn’t that far to the ground, but it was far enough. Tickling him won out and she latched onto his knee, squeezing it.

“Hey, stop that!”

“You started it.”

“Don’t make me drop you.”

“I trust you not to.” She smiled deviously. He wouldn’t drop her now, not after she’d said that. The likelihood of him dropping her before was minute, but added reassurance wasn’t bad. She hadn’t counted on him starting to spin. His grip tightened and he spun and spun and spun. Her head was swimming when he stopped. He seemed completely unphased.

Aelin was about to tease him some more when she felt the familiar vibration of a phone. Hers was inside, which meant it was Rowan’s. As though she weighed nothing more than a feather, he continued to brace her body against his with one arm and used his newly freed one to dig in his pocket. His body stiffened as he looked at the screen. Flipping her upright, he set her down and took two steps back, answering the phone.

Eaves dropping was extremely rude, but he was still so close—it was hard not to hear every word of the exchange between them. His silver brow furrowed the longer the conversation continued, and he was intermittently pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Lyria was clearly upset that he hadn’t answered her previously calls or called her back. Then she brought up how he wasn’t “here”. Aelin didn’t know where “here” was, but she did know it wasn’t hanging out with his friends.

“I’m not going to do this with you right now. You’re jumping down my throat and I understand you’re upset, but this isn’t how I want to spend my holiday. I love you and I’m sorry I had a prior commitment. You knew this when you asked me last week.”

Prior commitment? The decorating was last minute, she knew from Elide’s tenuous confession and pleading this morning. So, what had Rowan given up to be here? The mother of his child was currently ripping him a new one, he’d ignored several phone calls, and still, he was in here, instead of doing whatever he was supposed to be doing.

She startled when he said her name. She had missed him hanging up with Lyria. His guarded green gaze met hers and held steady. He was waiting for to ask him what was going on. Most of it didn’t need to be asked about because she heard it, but against her better judgement, she had to ask two questions.

“Where were you supposed to be and why aren’t you with her?”

His angular jaw tensed just enough to let her know he was uncomfortable with what she had asked of him. His left hand clenched into a fist, the tanned skin of his forearm flexing the tattooed whorls. “I’m not with her because I didn’t want to be.”

“But she’s having your baby. And it’s Yulemas tomorrow.”

“Thank you for that astute observation, Aelin.”

“I just don’t understand,” she said plainly. Quietly.

“I was supposed to go to Doranelle early this morning, on a red eye, but I didn’t. She’s mad because I wouldn’t cancel it to go spend the holiday with her and her parents. I’ve spent every Yulemas with my cousins since my parents died.” She knew he’d lost his parents, but he’d never stated is so plainly. Truly, he had said more about himself in those three sentences as he had in as many months of friendship.

“Did you tell her you didn’t go?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“And she’s livid you still didn’t go to her parents.” It should have been a question, but she said it as a statement instead. It was evident from the tense exchange just how upset the dark-haired woman was about his lack of attendance.

“Correct.”

It was apparent that any further explication on the subject was going to be like pulling teeth.

“Did you miss your plane?”

“No,” he answered flat and succinct.

“Did they ask you not to come?”

“Of course not. They were very upset when I called this morning and said I wasn’t coming.”

“Why didn’t you go?” she pushed. It was unfair he always knew what was going on in her head, soliciting more than what she wanted to comfortably give. She didn’t regret trying to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Don’t ask me that Aelin.”

While the please wasn’t audible, she knew it was implied, as was the reason he didn’t go.

Her.

His green eyes were still upon her, narrowing slightly, as he anticipated her next move. She wanted to call him on his unsaid truth. To prod and prod and prod until one of them snapped, the consequences be damned. But she didn’t. He’d shown her the smallest glimpse inside his walls. If her inquisition backfired, he’d never let her in again.

Trust took an irrational amount of time to foster and create but could be forced to ruination in seconds. She would not bring their friendship to the battlefield today. As hard as it was to sit on her hands, it was exactly what she did.

“I think if we don’t hurry up with the tree, it’ll be dark, and we’ll have missed Connall’s cooking.”

Rowan visibly relaxed, like one of the Staghorns had been lifted off his shoulders. “You’re probably right. Fenrys and Lorcan won’t hesitate to eat our food if we’re not there when Con deems its dinner time.”

The rest of the tree took around an hour to put together, Rowan of course doing all the heavy lifting, and much to his chagrin, some branch fluffing while Aelin directed him from the ground. After she had almost fallen off the ladder reaching to fix one of them, he had refused to let her back on, using his body to block her. She was secretly glad; it gave her a chance to watch him unencumbered. His muscled frame, despite being large, moved with graceful ease, keeping him steady 20 plus feet in the air.

Aelin had only seen a small glimpse of the finished decorations and was itching to get up from the dinner table to look, but her friends kept sending judgmental looks her way. Rowan had thought it would be more special to plug in the lights outside once dinner was over, so they could ring in Yulemas as a family—she’d been pouting ever since. The need for instant gratification was on the forefront of her brain.

Now that the decorations were up and finished, the joy she used to feel before her parents’ loss was coming to life, soon to be a roaring fire. Connall had said he was putting the finishing touches on several dishes and waiting for dessert to finish, before dinner would start. It felt like later would never come.

“Would you quit bouncing your leg like a little kid who has to pee?” Lys quietly said into her ear.

“I’m starving and no one will let me look at the decorations.”

“Yes because you got out voted and we’re doing it all together. Not any one person has seen it all.”

“Quit scolding me like a child,” whined Aelin, tipping her head back against the chair. On her left, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Rowan’s mouth tip up in a lopsided grin as his gaze flicked away from Fenrys to her. Her pain was the night’s entertainment.

“You’re acting like a toddler right now,” Lysandra tried to sound stern but ended up laughing.

“Lysssssssss.”

“This is why you were an only child. Elide was she this insufferable growing up?”

“Worse. Between her and Aedion, it was constant ego, theatrics, and bad decisions. I’m pretty sure it’s why I ended up being an only child. My mom had to put up with them and then come home to me. I asked for a brother once and she started bringing me to play with them… I didn’t want one after that.”

“It wasn’t that bad, Elide,” Aelin declared indignantly.

The dark-haired woman remained silent, but raised a disbelieving eyebrow and stared her down. Aedion and Aelin had been menaces to her parents, Elide’s mother Marion, and Gavriel, but Elide had been their partner in crime too many times to count. Aelin would let the rest of the table believe Elide the angel she appeared to be, for now.

“Aelin, why don’t you go decorate the tree in your bedroom? I left a box with your name on it sitting on the bed. It was full of ornaments,” chimed in Manon as she walked in from the kitchen, a newly poured glass of red wine in hand.

“You found my tree?”

Manon snorted, the wine almost sloshing over the side of her glass when she did so. ��It was hard to miss. Giant scrawl was all over the two boxes declaring it was your tree and the decorations that went with it. You guys really love Yulemas in this house.”

“Yeah we did,” she agreed, renewed nostalgia setting in. A heavy hand landed on her bouncing leg, giving her knee a brief, reassuring squeeze. Her blue eyes flicked over to Rowan’s, and he inclined his head towards the door, motioning for her to go.

She weaved out of the room and out the front dining room entrance, ending up at stairs closet to her room. Halfway up, a second set of footfalls joined in hers, and without turning, she knew it was Rowan. The outside tree and being present today, had been apology enough, but if he wanted to watch her agonize over perfect placement for her tree, then she’d let him.

The box on her bed was open, ratty cardboard flaps revealing some of her most prized possessions. Twenty-one years of her life could be found in this box. Every year, her father would present her mother and her with handpicked ornaments. It was tradition to open them on Yulemas Eve and then hang them on the tree at midnight.

Manon had set the tree to the right of her fireplace. It stood tall and naked in front of her bookshelf. Eagerly, she stuck her hand into the box of brightly colored tissue paper, pulling out a wrapped ball. Instant tears welled in her eyes as she unwrapped it. A flaming red heart sat nestled in her hand. It had been the last one her father had gotten for her and the most meaningful Yulemas gift she’d ever received.

A silent tear rolled down her cheek, dripping onto the tissue paper, darkening it. Another one followed. She knew it was in here but hadn’t expected it to be the very first one out of the box. She could feel his presence heavy at her side, probably wondering she was looking at her hands like they held the world.

She sniffed, her runny nose making very unlady like noises, “My dad got my mom and I handmade ones every year. We’d open them the night before Yulemas and hang them on the tree at midnight, signifying the start of our favorite day of the year. This one, it was the last one he got me before they died.”

“Aelin, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s what they used to call me. Fireheart.”

“Very fitting.”

“Not anymore. I don’t even know that girl.”

“I do,” he said quietly before slipping it from her hands and hanging it on a branch towards the top.

Aelin wanted to argue with him, to tell him that the girl she used to be was just as dead as her parents. She had been a force, burning brightly—unapologetically herself. There wasn’t a mountain she couldn’t conquer. She had been someone who never needed anyone, who didn’t cry at the drop of a hat, and had never doubted herself.

Now, she was nothing but a field of ash, burned and unrecognizable.

He held out his hand, waiting for her to hand him another, and she did methodically until the box was empty. It was stunning, each placed just right. The tree could have been in a magazine, reminding her of the days when Evalin had spent hours adorning the trees to the same standard.

Rowan’s tall frame dropped to the floor, and he plugged in the tree, illuminating the room. The heart at the top had been strategically placed, backlit by a bulb, giving the illusion it was actually burning. He leaned into her legs, his head resting against her hip as they stared at the tree.

“Sometimes, we all just need a little light.” The statement was weighted and required no elaboration, clearly a nod to her earlier confession. She dropped her hand to his head, idly running her fingers through the loose, silver strands. He had taken his hair out of its bun earlier, in anticipation of her braiding it, but they had never gotten around to it. It would have to be done at a later date; he would not get off scot-free.

“Dinner!” a cacophony of loud voices rang out from somewhere beyond the walls of her bedroom. Hastily, the pair separated, several feet of distance now between them. Shame felt heavy in the pit of her stomach as she stared at Rowan, who was conveniently looking at books on the shelf nearest him.

It might not have been the embrace of lovers, but the moment had been just as intimate, if not more. He was spoken for, a father-in-the-making, and situations like this, shouldn’t be happening. Aelin was to Rowan as a moth was to a flame—inexplicably drawn, despite the promise of a tragic outcome.

Moving forward, she would have to religiously remind herself that traipsing the fine line between friends and something more was not in the best interest of anyone involved. Too many cards were in play, and she did not yet possess a winning hand. With one last look, she strolled out of the room and rushed down the stairs, eagerly returning to her earlier seat.

Elide gave her a questioning look when she sat down alone. She shrugged her shoulders, reaching for whatever dish was closest to her. Later, one of her friends would corner her, demanding answers about her quality time spent with the silver-haired male. They were all a bunch of gossips, yet, if she shoe were on the other foot, she’d be acting the same. Secrets were the glue that helped bind friendships together.

Con had out done himself. The table was laden with various dishes from one side to the other. There was no way she was going to be able to try it all. She plopped a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes on the white and gold plate in front her and then followed it with carved pieces of turkey. A basket of rolls was making its way around but was rudely intercepted by Rowan’s big hand as he swiped one before sitting down.

“Looks like that was the last one, Aelin,” shared Dorian with a sympathetic look. He set the empty basket down and all she could do was stare at it, letting out a loud and dramatic sigh.

“There’s another batch baking. The rolls always go first,” called Con from the opposite end. It didn’t make it better. She had wanted one now. Instant gratification and all.

“Here,” he said warmly, his tattooed hand placing half a roll onto her plate. Melted butter glistened on the top and her ire softened, just slightly, at his gesture. Her turquoise eyes followed his hand’s retreat, a tingling, heavy sensation forming low in her stomach when he licked the butter from his fingers. Her thighs clenched together, a poor attempt at quelling the wayward response her body was having to such an innocuous act.

The gods were testing her. As if last night’s conversation or today’s Yulemas decorating had not been enough, now they were dangling a hot, hot man who she couldn’t touch right in front of her. Perhaps, she should attend Temple and pray to Kiva for atonement or to Lumas’, whose birthday was tomorrow… he was the God of Love afterall.

“I think we should go around and say one thing we’re grateful for or that we hope happens in the next year. Seems more fun than the traditional grace said at Holidays,” suggested Vaughn.

“Oh, I love this!” Dorian declared excitedly, dropping his napkin into his lap, and sitting up straight. His blue eyes were sparkling. “I’m grateful I’m spending this holiday with great friends.”

“That is so lame,” Manon declared dryly. Her unnaturally yellow eyes were pinned on Dorian, daring him refute her.

“It may be lame, but it’s true. I usually spend today and Yulemas with my family and Chaol. It’s nice to do something different with people who don’t tell me how much of a screw up I am. Or who don’t rant incessantly about mutual friends.” His gaze flicked to Aelin’s when he said the last part; apology was etched into his face.

“Well, we’re honored to be the better choice,” Fenrys said, raising his glass to Dorian before tipping it back. “I’m grateful for the beautiful life I get to live, and I hope this next year continues to bring good things to me and my.” Collective nods and smiles spread around the table.

“I’m grateful that Vaughn finally asked me out,” declared Conall with a grin so wide, it crinkled his eyes so much they almost looked shut. Vaughn leaned over, placing a sweet but chaste kiss against his lips.

“Me too, you’re the best part of my day.”

“Can we save some of the sweet for dessert? My teeth are rotting out just looking at you two.”

“She has to eat children for breakfast,” Dorian whispered, looking slightly frightened.

“I heard that,” Manon replied drolly. She took a large sip of wine from her glass, keeping the raven-haired male pinned with her glare. Aelin found it too amusing how much the woman liked to torture Dorian. He always acted as though at any second he was going to be disemboweled by her hands. Honestly, that seemed a little messy… she seemed the type to just snap someone’s neck and step over the body, unbothered.

“I’m grateful for the success of The Thirteenth.”

Lys coughed pointedly. Manon sighed, “I’m grateful for my friends. I guess you all are pretty cool.”

“Glad we rank somewhere in your life,” Lys laughed. “I’m grateful for Fleetfoot and I hope that by this time next year, I have something like Connall and Vaughn.” Despite being a top figure in the modeling world and successful in her own right, Lysandra had struggled in the romance department. It seemed to Aelin that most guys just saw a pretty face and became disinterested when they learned she actually had brains to accompany the beauty.

“I’m not doing this,” Lorcan vowed stone-faced.

“Yes you are,” argued Elide. Her dark eyes fiercely meeting his. A silent conversation passed between the pair, ending with the large, brooding male’s shoulders sagging in defeat.

“I’m grateful for my brothers and for ‘Lide.” He didn’t smile at his admission. In fact, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here at the dinner table.

Elide rested her head against Lorcan’s arm, smiling to herself. The appeal of their relationship was lost on Aelin. Lorcan seemed about as fun as running naked through thorn bushes or fighting a Ghost Leopard with only your bare hands.

“I’m grateful I twisted my ankle. I’ve never been glad to be clumsy until this year.”

There it was. Aelin had never actually asked Elide how she’d found Lorcan. Obviously, there were more details, but it seemed the angry man had a penchant for damsels in distress.

The table looked expectedly at her and Rowan, waiting for one of them to go. The food they’d plated was likely cold and the rolls were probably burning. It was worth it though, to hear all the sappy things that holidays brought to light.

“I’m fortunate to have irreplaceable friends and a proclivity for quality literature.” He didn’t bother to look at anyone else, his stormy green gaze focused on her. The conviction of his admission sent her heart skittering. A pink flush colored her cheeks, partly because it felt like he was stripping her bare and because there was an audience to his veil remark. The aforementioned line was growing finer by the minute.

Eager to redirect the focus of the table back to the task at hand, she didn’t acknowledge him. “I’m most grateful that I don’t have to sit alone at rock bottom. And for the grace you have all shown me as I try to find myself, again and again. Thank you for being the kindling that keeps my fire going.”

“Here, here,” cheered Fenrys loudly, his smile infectious. Aelin felt an answering one spread wide across her face. “Now let’s eat because there’s a whole lot of lights waiting for us.”

And eat they did; what started as a daunting amount of food, hardly seemed like it was going to be enough at the end. Aelin hadn’t kept company with men who could eat like that since her cousin and uncle. Every single one of them was fit, with hardly any body fat to their name, and likely their insatiable appetite stemmed from their active lifestyles. Dorian, for as high maintenance as he was, worked out several times a week. He blamed it on having an “image” to uphold.

Aelin was so uncomfortable, bloated like a fat tick, that she did not even have room to eat the chocolate hazelnut croissants sitting in front of her. Connall had found the recipe starred with a note declaring “Aelin’s favorite”. She’d probably have a good cry later after everyone left whilst eating one in the dark. Maybe if she was feeling terribly masochistic, she’d open the book, and run her fingers over the words written down. Would she feel the echoes of a mother’s love in the indented script? Would there be greasy fingerprints staining the pages? Would she hear the laughing chastisement of her dad as reminded her she had to wait for them to cool? What ghosts would creep in the dead of night?

“If I don’t walk around and digest this food, I’m simply going to perish right here.” Dorian was splayed out in his chair, looking pitiful, eyes pinched shut.

“Then get up. Your decomposing corpse will stain my floors.”

“Rude. You’d just let me rot right there?” he asked exasperated now staring at the floor.

Aelin shrugged, unabashed. “You’re too heavy for me to move.”

His eyes grew wide, hand flying to his chest in horror. “I know you did not just call me fat.”

“If you weren’t so vain, you wouldn’t have taken it like that.”

“That’s rich, the pot calling the kettle black.”

She laughed loudly, amusement sinking in. “I never said I wasn’t vain. Besides my dead body would be easier to move.”

“Again, with the fat jokes.”

“What cheerful Yulemas conversation: rotting bodies,” deadpanned Lorcan.

“You two are such children,” Lysandra observed. It sounded like she was trying to reprimand them, but the entertained look on her face said otherwise.

“He started it.”

“Aelin, stop,” Elide begged, dragging out the ‘p’ dramatically.

Huffing, she rolled her eyes, and closed her mouth, the rebuttal sadly dying on her tongue.

“Well, it’s almost midnight, so we better hurry through, so we can make it outside to plug the tree in when it’s officially midnight. Let the tour commence,” Elide sing-songed, clapping her hands together. One at a time, they filed out of the living room, through the kitchen, and into the living room. Both Fleetfoot and Eliot were asleep under the large Christmas tree that occupied one corner. The tree was decorated in only white ornaments, the clear lights slowly fading in and out, casting a warm glow throughout the room. It was so cliché, but perfect, nonetheless.

The exited the living room and made it back to the back stairs, the banister wrapped in frosted pine garlands with red bows. A small Christmas tree was nestled between the bathroom and closet doors. They followed Elide up the stairs, poking their heads in the decorated upstairs rooms, enjoying how each tree had its own theme.

Manon had decorated the front porch balcony, a beautiful tree in the middle, wreaths hung from the windows, and garlands with bright red, velvet bows decorated the columns. The downstairs porch carried the same décor, sans the tree. Both trees in the formal sitting room and piano room could be seen from the windows—perks of having 6ft windows in all the rooms.

They headed down the front set of stairs and took a moment to look closer at the trees in the sitting and piano room. The fireplaces were decorated with pine garlands with candied fruit slices strung along them instead of bows. It smelled liked mulled cider with a citrusy note. Aelin couldn’t have asked for a better group of friends. She knew that Elide had been the mastermind behind the decorations and today. After all, she’d really been the only one around to know how it used to be, to know how much care Evalin had put into the whole craft.

Her eyes burned with unsaid emotion. Today had been exactly what she had needed. These decorations, these friends, these new memories… they helped lessen the ache that had griped her heart mercilessly tight for almost a decade. Grief had been holding her head under water for so long, it was difficult to know how to come up for air.

Her ribcage expanded as she pulled in a deep breath and then exhaling, enjoying how it didn’t quite feel so heavy anymore to do so. “Thank you. It seems so paltry a gesture compared to this—,” she gestured to their surroundings, “but it’s the best way I know how right now.”

“Seeing your eyes light up has been all the thanks I needed. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you look like that,” Lys replied, slipping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She relaxed her head against her friend, enjoying the peaceful silence that had befallen them.

“Hate to ruin the moment, but its 11:58, and there’s a tree that needs lighting.” Thank the gods Connall was paying attention.

Hastily, they bounded out the front door, off the porch, and out into the yard. The unlit tree towered high into the night, the top barely visible. They stood together, merriment and anticipation freely flowing. The tree flickered to life with an audible buzzing sound. Aelin squinted, her eyes attempting to adjust to the bright radiance. Her and Rowan had done an amazing job. The ornaments were visible, some almost looking like they were lit themselves, the bulbs glowing against them.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed or even if it was. Truthfully, it felt like time was standing still—the moment felt infinite as they stood there, heads craned back, eyes wide with wonder. Yulemas, was a god’s birthday, but it was also a day of celebration and togetherness. A day for unbridled joy. An unspoken agreement with the universe that worries and troubles didn’t matter. No bad things could happen because just for one day, the gods hit pause on it all.

“Happy Yulemas.”

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Aelin was wrapped in her favorite blanket, sitting on the porch, still basking in the tree’s light. She had missed its presence more than she had known and now that it was up, the idea of leaving it to sleep, caused an ache in her chest. All of her friends, except one, had left hours ago. She didn’t know the exact time, but it late, the horizon staring to lighten just barely, signaling dawn wasn’t too far off.

It was supposed to snow, but the sky was clear, not a whisp of clouds in the sky. The air was heavy and still though, the smell of frost tickling her nose. Having a white Yulemas would be wonderous, especially with the house done up in spectacular fashion. It had been years since Orynth had been graced by snow on Lumas’ birthday.

“I have something for you.” His sleepy voice startled her. When she had last looked at him, he had been sleeping peacefully, Elliot curled into his side on the wooden bench.

Her gaze flicked over to him, noting that while she had been staring off, wishing for snow, he had sat up, folded his blanket, and pulled back his hair into a bun. She really needed to work on her observation skills, if only for self-preservation.

“It’s in the truck,” he said as he stood and extended a hand to her.

As content as she was wrapped up like a burrito, she uncurled herself, and slipped her hand into his. It was warm and calloused and much larger than her own. He didn’t let go even when she was to her feet and Aelin knew she should pull her hand back, but she didn’t. For just five minutes, it would be okay to pretend that there was nothing wrong with holding his hand. No lines were being blurred or crossed or ignored. He was just a guy and she was just a girl.

Elliot faithfully trotted behind them, stuck to Rowan like glue. Her own dog, had refused to come outside, choosing to lay in front of the fire. Fleetfoot was spoiled and it showed. They did say people often picked dogs like themselves.

Rowan opened the driver side door and dug around, only dropping her hand when he had to lean further across the bench seat. He stepped out of the door, allowing for Elliot to jump up into the truck—which caused her to deflate a little inside because it meant he was leaving. She wasn’t sure if she was dreading finally being alone or dreading him leaving.

He shut the door and leaned back against it. Holding is hand up between them, a small brown box with a gold bow sat on his open palm. When she didn’t immediately grab it, he stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. If she took even half a step, angled her head just so, their lips would be flush, and that was the only thing running through her brain.

When he spoke, his breath warmed her lips, “Are you going to open it, or do you have x-ray vision and haven’t told me?”

Embarrassment and shame coursed through her veins. Kissing him was the absolute last thing she should be contemplating. Her hand quickly relieved him of the package, and she took a step back, opening it. Reaching in, she hooked a green ribbon with her finger and pulled up.

Fleetfoot. A dog had been carved out of wood, collar, and everything, and stained to appear just like her own.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed quietly. A tear streaked down her right cheek.

Before she even registered him move, his hand was cupping her jaw, and he was swiping away the tear with his thumb. A small amount of pressure applied forced her to look at him. He stared intently at her, and she suddenly didn’t know how to breathe.

“I carved it from a piece of wood I cut that day you were at my house. I almost took my thumb off a few times. It was hard to get her just right.”

“It seems like it would be hard to whittle something with so much detail.”

Rowan opened his mouth a few times but said nothing. He seemed to be struggling internally with himself, his brow furrowing quite noticeably for it being so dark and hard to see features in any great detail. Frustrated with his silence, she huffed, “What?”

“When you told me about your Yulemas tradition earlier in your bedroom, I thought to myself how fortuitous it was that I had spent weeks on this thing for you. Out of all the things, I’d carved you something to be hung on a tree.” His hand slowly down her neck, his words barely above a whisper. The drag of his hot hand against her cooled flesh sent shivers down her spine, straight to core. Aelin’s self-control was fraying like a worn rope, soon too many fibers would break, and it would snap all together, ending with her doing something incredibly rash.

Sucking in a ragged breath, she dropped her gaze, and counted to ten, a pitiful attempt to ground her thoughts. His hand remained against her neck, the tip of his thumb grazing the straight plane of her jawbone. She wondered if he could feel her pulse racing or the flushed heat of her skin against his open palm.

“I love my gift, Ro. I’ll hang it on my tree when I go inside.”

He suddenly pulled her close without hesitation, the end of her promise muffled by his muscled chest. Pine and snow deliciously filled her nose she tucked her face in a little tighter. She could feel his hands playing with the tips of her hair and the unmistakable press of lips against the crown of her head.

“Happy Yulemas, Fireheart.”

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Tag list:

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

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rowaelinsdaughter · 3 months

Text

OUR DOLL

a/n;; this is the dirtiest thing i've ever written, and you can see that i got a liiiiiitle carried by this... but come on!!! they are rowan and aelin. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ im on my knees for them.

WARNINGS;; smut without plot, degradation(?), orgasm denial, mommy and daddy dynamics, overstimulation, m!oral, aelin uses a strap on reader (this was so 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️)

rowan whitethorn was tired. his day had been filled with meetings. meeting after meeting. he was tired of diplomacy, of talking and everything. the only thing he wanted was to be in bed with his mates.

he made his way to their room when he heard a noise. a slap. stopping on the door, he sharpens his hearing, trying to figure out what it was. another sound. this time a moan. your moan. you were moaning.

he opened the door, carefully not to disturb. your moans were louder now that he was inside.

“you like it, doll?” aelin said. her voice full of lust.

fuck. rowan thought. he made his way to the open door of the bedroom, and the sight before him… fuck fuck fuck.

aelin was seated on the bed, her back on the headboard as she watched you bounce on her dick. a strap. aelin was using a strap on you, and you were bouncing like you would do on his dick. your eyes were close. moans leaving your mouth as aelin’s hands roamed over your body. a slap on your butt and the other hand was massaging your tit.

rowan touched his dick. he wanted to release it from his pants.

his eyes found aelin’s. a smirk on her face as she stops you, a whimper leaving your lips.

“you like the sight, rowan?” your eyes follow aelin’s and you found rowan on the door. his dick begging to be free from his pants, and his eyes full of lust.

you feel aelin on your side, her lips brushing your ear. “why don’t you turn around and beg to rowan?”

a little nod and with her help, you turn around, your back pressed on aelin’s chest. you look at rowan through you lashes and notice that his shirt was gone, as well as his pants and underwear. the sight before you makes your walls clench around her dick, buried deep inside you. rowan grabs your neck so you are looking at him. lust and fervent desire. you look at his dick, precum was dripping from it. his hand moves to your neck and squeezes it, you look at his eyes again.

“you like my dick, doll? you want to suck it?”

aelin bites your shoulder. “answer doll”

“yes”

“yes, what?” rowan demands.

“yes daddy” you answer, a wicked smile on their faces.

with her fae speed, aelin maneuvers you, and now you are on your hands and knees. her hands grabs your hips and she leaves a little from your cunt, making you whimper at the loss. rowan catches your hair creating a ponytail and before he can tell you what to do, your mouth is open and your tongue is out. an invitation.

a breathy curse leaves his lips and with a push oh his hips, his dick is inside your mouth. at the same time aelin shoves her dick against your throbbing cunt. your body shrives at the sensation and a cry falls from your lips. they both start with the same rhythm, your body is on fire and you think you can die just from having them.

“gods… look at you doll. such a dirty girl, just for us” aelin says with a harsh thrust to your cunt. if she wasn’t grabbing you, you would have fallen to the bed.

“that’s it aelin, she’s our dirty girl, just our- fuck” rowan hand gripped your hair as he cum on your mouth and aelin stops her hips. “that’s it, take it all doll, just like that. good girl”

aelin takes your hands, and with a pull you’re on your knees again, unable to move your hands thanks to her. rowan’s mouth is inches from your’s, his hands massaging your tits and pinching your nipples.

“what do you want, doll?”

“i wanna cum, please”

rowan bites your shoulder and his lips travel to your ear. “where are your manners, doll?”

you shallow. “i wanna cum, please, mommy, daddy let me cum please, i’ve been a good girl, please” a tear falls from your eye and you feel aelin lick it. “good girl… we should let him cum rowan?”

“mmm, i think she has been a good girl for us” aelin thrusts into your pussy as rowan’s hand rubs your clit.

the pounding is incessant, and you know the whole castle can hear you moaning, but they don’t care, let them know they are the only ones who can make you cry from pleasure.

“i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna-” a cry and you’re coming on aelin’s dick as they both bite your neck on each side. your body feels dizzy, your breaths are difficult as you feel like you're in heaven. aelin removes the strap from you, a little groan falling from your lips. she goes to the bathroom to prepare everything.

“let’s go bath, doll”

“i don’t-” a pair of arms raise you from bed, and you hear aelin closing the water. once you all are bathed, they take you to bed, each of them on your sides. a kiss on your shoulder and lips is the last thing you remember.

“we love you, doll”

tagging;; @shadowdaddies @thehighladywrites @hellwantfuckme

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shadowdaddies · 3 months

Text

Reunited - Part II

Fenrys x Reader

Part I | Part III

Summary: after years of working as a spy in Adarlan, you are finally reunited with your cousin, Aelin, as you join the war to reclaim Terrasen and bring peace to Erilea. What you don't expect is to meet your mate in the middle of a war.

A/N: this story will have at least two more parts; this one is very angsty I’m sorry

Warnings: canon-typical violence, EOS spoilers

The door to the pub slammed behind Aedion with such a force that you flinched in your seat.

“He will come around,” you murmured, reaching your hand across the table towards your father. You sighed softly at Gavriel’s dejected expression, taking his hand in your own as you mustered a weak smile. “I’ll talk to him,” you promised, knowing the sway you held with your brother.

Your father’s tawny eyes shone with something like pride as he squeezed your hand, his blonde hair swaying as he shook his head. “Aedion is right to feel the way that he does. I don’t expect him to come around easily. He is as stubborn as your mother,” Gavriel paused, a lump working in his throat as he studied you. “And you are as fiercely kind.”

You opened your mouth to say more, something to comfort him, when an alarm rang in the distance. Gavriel had drawn his dagger before you could blink, his body blocking yours protectively from the rest of the room. Another alarm sounded from the lookout tower, dreading realization crashing over you like the waves you looked to out the window.

Jumping from your seat, you sprinted up the stairs to Rolfe’s office Aelin stood, her relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to Rolfe’s torrent of emotions. He regretfully reached a tattooed hand towards Aelin, the blonde gladly shaking it. “Thank you for your assistance, Lord Rolfe.”

The mischievous glint in your cousin’s eyes told you all that you needed to know, but Aelin wasted no time barking orders for everyone in the room to get to the ships and prepare for the Valg’s approach.

Fenrys found you quickly, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist as you hurried towards the docks. Despite everything, the peace that filled you at his simple touch was undeniable. In the few days you had spent together, Fenrys had become an anchor in the storm of this impending war.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, voice like a soft balm to your nerves as you took his hand from around your waist, weaving your fingers through his own.

Your gaze flicked to his, the tenderness in his onyx eyes grounding you in the moment. “I’m alright,” you promised, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

You reached the ship, Fenrys lifting you by the waist to help you over the ledge of the vessel, only for you to trip and stumble into his warm, toned chest. Your hearts pounded, synchronized even in the chaos as you made your way to the bow of the boat where Aelin and Rowan stood.

Salty air whipped around your face in breathtaking levels of wind, seawater splashing as Rowan’s wind propelled the ship unnaturally fast against the waves. Lysandra’s scales shone underneath the water, what would be a dazzling sight if not for the fear that had worked its way deep inside of you at the sight of the Valg fleet approaching.

The next hour was a blur of fighting, canon fire, sea monsters, and every impossible thing you never believed could happen in this world. Nightmares followed the next several nights. The image of Aelin, burning out of control and falling into the sea, Fenrys’s hand ripping from your own as he dove after her.

~~~

That night, you awoke in a cold sweat, hands clawing at the edges of the mattress as you’d clung to the railing of the ship when you’d watched your mate dive out of sight. You had barely registered your surroundings - the peaceful inside of your cabin - when a familiar warm hand touched your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m here,” Fenrys murmured in your ear, a silent sob breaking through you at his voice. “Can I hold you?” he asked, hand lightly rubbing your shoulder.

You nodded, sniffling as you tugged Fenrys’s hand from your shoulder, wrapping it around your waist as you moved as close as possible to his warmth. “You scared me today,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “I thought... I thought that this wonderful thing, this bond with an incredible male had come just in time for me to lose you. And I can’t. I can’t lose you, Fenrys. I’m sorry if it’s too soon for me to say that, but I don’t know how I’ve lived without you in my life.”

Blonde curls fell across your cheek as Fenrys leaned down, his lips warm as they pressed a lingering touch to your ear. “I understand completely. You have brought a light to my life that I did not think possible, and I would do anything to keep you safe and happy. That is why I dove after Aelin. She will keep you safe - I know that. And you are my priority now. You have given me new purpose.”

In all your years - even before those spent as a spy in Adarlan - you had never experienced such profound intimacy. Never connected, cared for someone as deeply as you did for your mate. It was frightening to consider, but his warm press against your body filled any cracks of doubt and worry, allowing you to sleep soundly in his arms.

Each night passed the same way, Fenrys and you now sharing the same bed, simply holding each other. Your physical intimacy never went further than a kiss on the cheek, arms wrapped around one another’s waist, but the emotional connection was something you did not believe possible.

~~~

When Melisande’s fleet descended upon you, Fenrys kept you close to his side, the two of you working seamlessly as a team to defend your ships and allies from the Valg. Canon fire roared in your ears as you saw Lorcan’s dark form at the stern of the ship - his eyes set on the coast where he had left Elide.

“Fenrys!” you called, desperate for your mate’s attention as Lorcan abandoned ship, the desperation with which he fought his way towards shore something you wouldn’t have understood until you met Fenrys. Your mate caught your gaze, his onyx eyes flaring wide as he tracked Lorcan’s movements.

“Elide is in danger. I need you to trust me - I will go help them, but I want you safe here on the ship,” Fenrys pleaded, hands cupping your cheeks as he blocked out the world to focus on you.

“I can’t leave you again,” you admitted, hand coming up to hold his own. Silver lined your eyes as Fenrys’s forehead leaned against your own. “Please,” you whispered, voice broken as you held him close, as though you could stop him from leaving.

Your father’s hand clasped on Fenrys’s shoulder, drawing the two of you from your moment. “It’s now or never,” he spoke, voice firm yet warm as Gavriel nodded towards the dingy. “We will be able to hold off these forces, but we need to leave now if you want to help Lorcan and Elide.”

Without a second thought, you ran towards the dingy, hopping inside along your mate and father as the three of you rowed to shore. Stumbling through the sand, your legs ached from the strain of running towards the crowd of people further inland. And time stood still as you recognized the pale, black-haired female lashing out dark power at Aelin.

Maeve’s eyes shone with wicked delight as people stood around, helpless while an exhausted Aelin crumpled before the fae queen. Your father rushed forward, leaving you behind with Fenrys as he pleaded Maeve to spare Aelin.

“Please,” Gavriel whispered, kneeling before Maeve. “Leave Aelin be. Take me instead. Take my life.”

The scream that ripped from your throat was muffled by a large hand over your mouth, Lorcan’s intense gaze looking down upon you as he slowly shook his head. “Do not alert attention to yourself. She cannot know what you are to Fenrys,” he whispered.

Every nerve in your body was on fire, panic coursing through your veins as you turned to see the male who swore to stay by your side, slowly inching further away.

You were vaguely aware of your father, his own tears hitting the ground beneath him as he felt the pain of his blood bond being stripped away. Waves of horror knocked the breath from your lungs as Maeve called Aelin to bow, your cousin and Queen whipped before your eyes while no one took action.

Fenrys stood still, frozen under Maeve’s command as your mate could not afford to spare you a glance, leaving you at the mercy of Lorcan’s strong arm holding you back. “Do not make a scene, unless you want to make it worse for Fenrys,” he warned.

Salty tears streaked down your cheeks, your gaze locking with the tawny eyes of your father as he weakly managed his way over to you. Blinding anger coursed through you, confusion at how you could end up in this situation, surrounded by the most feared warriors, all of you forced into a position of waiting as your Queen was placed in an iron sarcophagus.

Fists clenched so hard your nails drew blood from your palms, disgusted with yourself as you allowed Aelin to be taken away so that your mate would be spared. And then the ground fell out from under you when Maeve ordered Fenrys to follow.

Your mate did not so much as spare you a look over his shoulder, but every muscle in his body seemed to strain as he fought against the order to walk away from you, from your father, your new family.

You bit down hard, Lorcan hissing as your teeth sunk into his fingers, blood dripping from your lips as he released you. You charged after Fenrys, running with no plan other than willing to risk everything for the person who had become more than everything to you.

But once again, broad arms wrapped around your waist as your father held you in his arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” Gavriel whispered, tears streaking down his face as you felt his calm, healing power wash over you, the world fading to black as you lost consciousness.

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danikamariewrites · 8 months

Note

Could I ask for Rowaelin x pregnant reader please

Poly!Rowaelin x pregnant!reader headcanon

The two of them get waaayyy over protective when you find out you’re pregnant

Especially Rowan bc of everything that happened with Lyria

He was terrified that he’d lose you and the baby

But you and Aelin were there to comfort him and remind him that the evil was gone, you were safe

Rowan refused to leave your side, insisting that he was always around to guard you and you weren’t even showing yet

You started going to more court meetings just so he would do his kingly duties

Aelin spoiled you more than usual

Any junk food you wanted she got it for you! From chocolates to any wild sandwich you could think of it was in your hands

When your bump started showing you were so happy. You could finally feel your little babe and could talk to your stomach without getting an insane looks

Since you were about 3-4 months along you could still fit in your clothes so you put on one of your favorite dresses and set out to find your mates to show them

You find them in the throne room, just having finished a meeting with the lords

You keep your hands in front of your stomach as you walk up to them and you have this stupid grin on your face

“Y/n! Good morning sweet girl, how are you.” Aelin cooed at you as she raced off her throne to you, Rowan on her heels

“Perfect. Look!” You remove your hands to show off the small bump

Aelin let’s out a cry covering her mouth, “it’s so cute! That’s our babe ohh.” And she kissed you softly

Rowan was mesmerized by it. Silver lined his eyes, his lips pulled into a tight smile

He dropped to his knees and cradled your stomach between his hands leaving feather soft kisses across it, “this is amazing.” He whispered as you ran your fingers through his silver hair

You and Aelin would shop for baby clothes during your free afternoons with Rowan acting as your bodyguard of course

Rowan would growl at anyone who looked at you

It didn’t matter if it was a friend or stranger

Rowan and Lorcan almost got into a fight bc he accidentally growled at Elide for touching your bump

The farther into your pregnancy the more fatigued you got

Eventually you just stayed in bed resting and taking a few walks during the day

Your walks were your alone time with the babe since your mates were always around

You’d point out your favorite flowers in the garden, tell them about Aelin and Rowan, and the latest gossip

This child was going to be the biggest snoop because of you

They would make sure you had everything you needed during your pregnancy

And most importantly that you were healthy and comfortable

Sometimes Aelin would massage your shoulders while Rowan rubbed your feet and ankles

They loved talking to the babe before bed, “were you nice to your mama today?” “What did you two do?” “We already love you so much baby.”

#throne of glass imagine #throne of glass #throne of glass headcanons #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass rowan #aelin throne of glass #rowaelin x reader #rowaelin x you #rowaelin #poly!Rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin headcanon #poly!Rowaelin x you #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn

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writtenonreceipts · 1 year

Note

Am I slightly evil? Yes. But that’s besides the point. I would love a what if Aelin was actually pregnant in Empire of Storms. DRAMA! ANGST! OH NO MAEVE! 🫣 do ur worst. Literally.

Thanks for sending this in!! <3 It's been a while since I read the book, lol. My reread came to a screeching halt a little while ago. SO! Some points will not occur as they did in the book because i have no memory. Anyways...canon au/divergence. Partial EOS/KOA rewrite.

find my other works here

READ ME--Warnings: torture, brief allusion to sexual assault, pain, violence, discussion of miscarriage and death. ANGST. you've been warned. Maybe happy ending???

~6.4k words

.*.*.*.*.

Until the Bitter End of Eternity

First, there was darkness. Thick and heavy and enough to make the entire world disappear. It was a darkness that slipped not just across her eyes but into her mind. Even when she tried, she couldn’t remember what day break looked like. She couldn’t remember the way the sun scraped over the Staghorns or gleamed across the sea. She couldn’t remember the shade of green that soothed her soul.

Second, there was pain. Hot as it burned on skin and bore through flesh and into bone. And she knew her pain. Her life was a continuous cycle of torture, of broken bones and skin. She had endured it all over and over. But this…this was a fresh hell.

Third, there was terror. Sharp in the way it drilled one thought repeatedly over and over into her head. Dry in the way that it leeched everything else from her.

Aelin had no choice but to feel each of these things. She had no choice but to let each thought and each feeling and each idea encompass her. Because it meant that she was alive. And to be alive was to be one step closer to returning to her mate (her mate, was that even possible?) and to be alive meant that the little flutter deep in her belly was real.

Perhaps she should regret not telling him. Instead, she'd told Lysandra. Begged Lysandra for help, for support, for confirmation. And her friend had assured her it would be fine. Assured her she was strong enough. Assured her that she would support Aelin if a certain choice needed to be made.

She should regret not having one more moment with Rowan, one last taste of hope that they could be together. A family.

"Well, well," a lilting voice permeated the darkness. And even when Aelin opened her eyes, even when she tried to seek out the light, there was nothing. "Niece, I thought you were stronger than this. But your fear. My, my. How did you ever gain a following? You're so close to falling apart, aren't you?"

Aelin dragged in a breath, the tang of iron and mold coating her tongue and burrowing in her lungs. A chill ran across her limbs, licking up any remnant of sweat. It took far too long to remember the coffin. She was trapped. Entombed. Locked away to be be saved for death. Maybe she’d pushed it too far back in her mind. Maybe she’d tried to give herself some sort of protection.

But it came racing back now in the desire to reach out and throttle that cruel little voice that echoed through the silence.

"No witty words? Fireheart?"

Bile rose in Aelin’s throat as the moniker crossed Maeve's lips. The cruel fae queen was trying to rile her up, trying to make Aelin betray herself. She swallowed the acid down.

Breathe, she thought. Just breathe.

"Don't worry,” Maeve continued, "I'll be gentle. For now."

And that cruel fae queen began the torture she’d always promised.

...

The coffin was cold. Impenetrable. And Aelin was acutely aware of the empty recesses to her magic.

It made her feel lost, distant, utterly remote from everything and anything. As a child and into her young adult years, she'd repressed her magic so much that she'd convinced herself she'd never had it. She’d convinced herself that it was a mere fantasy made up by a poor little girl struggling with reality. But after learning what it was and how to control it, she'd truly understood what it meant to be that wildfire she was so often called.

For a wildfire was more than just a force to be reckoned with.

And now, encased in iron and darkness, her skin burned in desperation. She needed to burn. She needed to feel again.

She didn't know how long she remained in that coffin. It could have been hours; it could have been days. It could have been millennia.

And the one thing that should have been a comfort, that small flutter of life in her womb, was only another cruel thing to use against her. Because just by existing, that life was the cruelest torture the gods had given her.

Aelin managed to brush her hand over her belly. Given the limited space of the coffin, it was a bit awkward, but it comforted her. It gave her just a little bit of hope, even for just the bare moment she gave herself. She had to be careful. She couldn’t let Maeve know. She couldn’t let her guards know.

As soon as they did, they would use it against her. And she couldn't bear what that would entail.

After what felt like years locked away with her own mind, there was finally the sound of rattling chains and grating stone. And then a strike of light fell across her face making her flinch. It had been so long since she'd been touched by light. So long since she'd felt it so freely on her skin. She didn't like it. She didn't trust it.

The coffin opened with a heavy groan and cool air rushed over Aelin, brushing her limbs, her face.

It tasted like salt and wood and death.

She didn't have time to adjust to it when large, calloused hands took hold and yanked her from the coffin. Aelin couldn’t keep her feet as she was set on the ground. She tried. She tried to hold onto that pride that had once so securely owned her. She tried to find that fire that once burned within her. She tried. But it wasn't enough.

Her feet slid on cold marble and her body fell against the outside of the iron coffin. She didn't have time to relax against it though. The cruel hands were back, digging into the flesh of her arms and forcing her to her feet.

Aelin bit back a moan of pain at being forced to move, to walk. She hadn’t been able to stretch within the coffin and her body had grown so used to not moving that even this motion nearly sent her to her knees.

But the male beside her wouldn't let her fall. He was quiet with his harsh eyes and beautiful face turned forward. The only acknowledgment she had that he was aware of her was the way his fingers clung to her skin.

She looked there, his tanned skin a contrast to her own. She could already see the bruises that would come from this. She could already taste the blood that would coat her tongue when Maeve would inevitably have him beat her.

Once she might have tried to tease him. Endovier hadn't broken her, Arobynn hadn’t either. Would she really allow Maeve the dishonor? The little flutter of life in her belly was all the answer she needed.

No. Aelin wouldn't be broken not for the possibility of hope and the image of a boy with his father's pine green eyes. Or maybe a girl with long silver hair that would dance among the forest with flowers in her hands.

What little strength she had went to shielding her stomach and protecting the innocent life. There was no guarantee that this would work for long, no promise that she’d carry to term, not with what she'd already been through and would continue to suffer.

It would take a miracle. And Aelin was sure she’d used all hers up.

Maeve would drag her within an inch of her life. And this little soul would face it too. Bile rose in Aelin’s throat as she thought about that.

The male beside her yanked Aelin to a stop just before the great doors that would lead to Maeve's throne room.

"The queen desires an audience," the male said, his curling blonde hair falling into his eyes. Aelin thought she recognized him as one of Rowan's Cadre.

She met his gaze and lifted her chin, ready to accept her fate.

...

The blood on her lips never stayed dry for long.

Even in her dreams, when she managed to sleep, Aelin was covered in red. It dibbled between her teeth, stained her gums, tainted her lips. Iron and salt were her only companion.

Her dreams never varied.

They were filled with images of forests wide and free. They sang of vast skies and warm burning suns. They hummed with magic that kissed her skin. But most importantly there was Rowan.

Rowan with his commanding presence. Rowan with his cold eyes and hard demeanor. Rowan who was her salvation and hope. Rowan who she could never quite keep close enough. No matter how she tried to chase after, to reach him, it was never enough. He would remain just out of her grasp and Aelin would be alone until her mind spiraled to the edge of an abyss of black.

Alone.

And then she would wake. And Maeve would beat and abuse her again. Again. Again.

Each time she would tell Aelin to give up, to release her magic, to allow Maeve access to her mind. Maeve sought to destroy her and Aelins will was chipped away.

Everyday Aelin would hold on though. She would think about that life within her, that perfect innocent life that she would hold onto. That life that would be a perfect mix of her and Rowan. That life that would live to know peace and hope.

So when the whips came out and the chains rattled on the stone floor, Aelin let her mind return to the darkest shadows of her subconscious that had given birth to Celaena. And as Cairn whispered threats into her ear and his hand were rough and cruel upon her skin, Aelin remembered where she had been and how far she had come.

Even as leather bit into her back and ruined the tattoos that marked her life—Aelin’s mind stayed locked.

Even when she would let out the inevitable scream—Aelin’s heart stayed strong.

Even when her nails tore and tears streamed—Aelin’s will stayed firm.

And when her body was torn and bruised and she returned to the coffin that wouldn't let her die, Aelin found herself staring at that male who led her to her daily torture. He was harsh and cruel and vile. The only thing she could think was that she would delight to see his blood on her hands.

When he didn’t whip her, Cairn would take a knife to her skin and carve into her flesh. Often it was useless strikes and cuts. Other times there were words. Aelin would watch the blood drip down her skin and pool on the marble of the throne room. It was strange seeing such things etched into her skin. Strange to have them burned into her eyes. Stranger still to feel the way the blood oozed in tracks along her arms. Her legs. Her back.

It was wicked and cruel and the male delighted in it.

Every time he drew blood his lips were at her ear. Do you like that, little princess? When her breath would stutter in her lungs he would draw a finger along her jaw. Let me hear you beg, bitch.

Maeve would always heal her though. She took away the marks at the end of a week. What fun was it when the subject of your ire was too cut up to feel anything?

Still. Aelin didn’t beg. She didn’t plead. She only stared forward at the male across the hall who brought her here on his queen’s order.

Fenrys never did speak to her. Only blink. Only blink and offer the barest hints of pressure as his fingers left her skin and delivered her to her prison once again.

...

She remembered the first time she wanted to die.

It was when she was in Arobynn's care. He had shown her how to slit a man's throat from a myriad of positions. This being when she was trapped beneath him. His hands would wander and he’d carefully arrange her just the way he wanted.

He taught her the best way to hold the knife. The best angle to cut. He called her his good girl and praised the chaos she would cause. And then he threw her to the wolves.

As she stared into Maeve’s eyes one day she imagined she could see Arobynn there. The cold delight, the deadly precision, the lack of empathy and care.

Aelin was in a mask of iron. A headpiece that covered her face so only her eyes could see slits of light and color. There was a mouthpiece she was forced to clamp down on with spikes that tore her tongue and the soft flesh of her cheeks and gums. Iron and faebane forged together that caused tears and blood to roll down her face.

Aelin didn't know how long she'd been held. She didn't know how long she'd been directing her magic to protect her baby. From what she could tell there'd been no growth. She was sick often enough that maybe, maybe, maybe it was okay. But she could have lost it and would never know what had finally done it. Only that she hadn't been strong enough.

She was strung up in chains and the iron mask deep in the recesses of Maeve’s palace. Had been for long enough that she stank of piss and vomit. She hadn’t been able to help either occurrence.

As her mind wandered from consciousness to dreams, she fought to focus on something other than the darkness, the pain, the terror. She tried to find something to hold onto. When she tried to think of the babe—it nearly sent her into hysterics. After all, she likely killed the child by submitting to this torture. She wasn’t strong enough to hold off the true pain and agony. She couldn’t protect herself so how, how could she protect that innocent life?

She came to herself as the door of her cell eased open. Aelin snapped to attention, ignoring the pain that tore through her body.

In the dull light from behind the door she could make out the shape of a male. Aelin pulled away even as the brackets around her wrists dug into the worn and tender flesh.

It had to be Cairn. She knew it did. He’d told her many times over that one of these days he’d come to her. He’d break her. He’d see her on her back as he—

“Aelin.”

A soft voice. Far kinder than what she’d expected.

Aelin blinked through tears and the fog surrounding her mind. Through the slits of the mask she could make out the face of Fenrys Moonbeam.

“We don’t have time,” he murmured.

His hands went to the chains at her wrists, making quick work of the locks. As the chains fell away, Aelin collapsed forward. Fenrys caught her easily, his strong arms supporting her as he took care of the chains at her ankles.

“I can’t get the mask,” he said, “not strong enough. Aelin. Look at me.”

A shudder of pain rippled through her. Her tongue cut on one of the spikes in her mouth and blood trickled down her throat. She gagged.

“Aelin,” Fenrys said again. “You have to run. I can get you to the woods but from there you’re on your own. Do you hear me? There is only so long she will be distracted.”

His words slowly pieced together in her mind. Run. Escape. Freedom.

A hand dropped to her abdomen. She couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t apologize for it. And maybe, maybe there was something there.

“Run.” she managed to spit through the iron gag in her mouth the rutted mask around her.

Fenrys wasted no time in leading her through the dungeons.

He supported most of her weight even when she came to herself. They were practically flying down different pathways and channels. Soon, the dank stench of excrement and blood dissipated and was replaced by something sweeter, fresher.

“Almost there,” Fenrys murmured into her ear.

Aelin barely managed a hum in response. She was too busy trying to find one more ounce of strength somewhere in her bones.

A light appeared at the end of the corridor they were moving down. So small, Aelin almost missed it. But the faster Fenrys moved the closer the light came. It was real. So real that in a few hundred yards they came to a grate that led out into freedom.

Fenrys ushed Aelin through the bars but didn’t follow. His fae eyes gleamed in the shadows and she could feel a preternatural power roll off of him.

“Run straight to the trees,” Fenrys told her. “Don’t stop. You cannot stop. You cannot give up. Not yet. He’ll find you; do you understand? He will find you.”

Rowan. She thought. She could only blink her response before Fenrys was shoving her out into the daylight.

It was so different from what she remembered. It wasn’t silent or still. Rather, there was a wind rustling in the trees, a bird in the distance. She could feel cold moss beneath her toes and a dampness in the air of a coming rain.

It was clean and pure and—

Run.

Her knees buckled at the first step. Her legs forgot that they knew this motion. She tried again with another step. Another. Another. Step upon step upon step that would take her directly into the trees.

Her bare feet dug into the detritus of the forest floor. Leave and sticks and dirt kicked up beneath her frantic scrambles. It didn’t help that her vision was so limited with the mask. She could hardly see one step in front of her, let alone two.

It was taking her too long to move. She knew it. She could feel a shift in the air.

What had Fenrys done to provide a distraction? Had anyone else helped him? She had no idea what would have been enough to drag Maeve away from the castle, away from Aelin when she was so close to breaking.

Somewhere behind her, she heard a scream. A roar, really. Something loud and violent that send a shudder through the forest.

Cairn. It had to be. She, his little play thing, was gone. He would come find her, she knew he would.

Aelin pushed herself forward. A tree nearly tossed her off balance but she kept moving. Quicker now. One step in front of the other as her knees picked up. There were far too many brambles and roots to keep her trajectory straight, but she didn’t stop.

She couldn’t stop. Not with one hand cradling her stomach that she swore was rounded just a bit. She hadn’t completely lost her mind, had she?

She couldn’t stop as her senses filled with clean air and fresh upturned earth. All around her, the forest was coming alive with fluttering wings and scampering paws. This was where she belonged, wasn’t it? Wild and free.

She ran.

She ran until her body was begging for relief. Until she could feel the wounds along her body burst and new blood rolled down her frame. Maeve hadn’t healed her for this week yet.

The blood would make it easier for Cairn to track. It would be easier for him to hunt her down and finish what he’d started.

Each of her nerve endings lit up as though they were on fire. All across her body, she felt as though she were disintegrating back into that pathetic ball of utter shame. She couldn’t even run properly let alone get herself to freedom without help. She was—

There was a shift in the air.

It was sudden and stark on her skin. She felt as though she’d stepped into a wall of ice as a chill wrapped around her, curling into every curve and angle of her body. She knew that feeling. She had felt it on many occasions before. Back when she’d been a flickering flame on the verge of burnout and he’d been there to ground her.

Aelin gasped for air desperate for a taste of the world around her.

Rowan. Pine and snow and sweet sweet relief. Rowan. Rowan. Rowan. Aelin stumbled in her frantic run. She could smell him. He was so close she could feel him and his strength and as desperation rolled through her, Aelin found her magic slowly unfurling. It quivered within her as it slowly rolled forth.

Rowan.

Rowan

Rowan.

She kept running. Running until she heard something in the trees around her. Running until she could smell magic in the air. Running until she burst into a clearing, stumbling to her knees. All the strength she’d put forth was eaten up. Her body so tired, her mind so numb. She didn’t know if she could go any further. But she could feel him, so immersive and familiar.

Aelin.

Her name whispered through the trees, light and cool.

Aelin,

Her name rang with desperation as it shuddered among the surrounding trees.

“Aelin!”

Her name was fierce and strong coming from the one person she'd thought about most in the last few months. Aelin managed to look up as Rowan fell to the ground in front of her. Even on his knees, he was massive. His broad frame blocked out anything from view as his magic pulsed between them.

“Aelin,” he whispered. Strong arms came around her as though they could offer security or protection.

Aelin shuddered in Rowan’s grasp as she tried to pull away.

“Off. Off. Take it off.” She demanded. Her fingers scrabbled at the metal mask over her face. Blood dribbled from the corners of her mouth and pain landed through her, but she didn't care. All she cared about was getting that damned mask off.

“It’s alright, Fireheart,” Rowan murmured. “Look at me. Look at me, love.”

In her frantic scrambling she’d twisted in his grasp and was now facing him. His green eyes found hers and for the first time in so many months, Aelin could breathe.

“Rowan,” she gasped. The metal mouthpiece scraped against her tender skin. All she cared about was Rowan before her.

His hands were gentle as they ran along the seam of the mask and Aelin’s neck. He kept talking to her in a mix of the old language and common tongue. She didn’t know what he was saying—couldn’t focus on anything but his hands—but it was the soothing lilt of his voice that kept her grounded.

She didn't know how long it took but soon the metal fell free and she could feel cool air on her face and tears tracked down her face.

A sob escaped her as she slumped against Rowan. His arms tightened around her as he murmured sweet assurances in her ear.

The relief didn’t last long.

Not as a new figure emerged from the trees. Aelin didn’t have to see his face to know who it was. She could smell her own blood on the long blade in his grasp.

Aelin dug her fingers into Rowan’s arm, the hard muscle unyielding as he slowly shifted her away from Cairn.

“Two little lambs,” Cairn crooned, “all ready for the slaughter.”

…

Rowan Whitethorn was a warrior. Three hundred years of life on this earth had turned him from a simple boy in his father’s land to a fae that yearned for the hunt.

He was not afraid of it. Nor was he averse to it. He respected the way of war and the blood that would be shed.

At least until this very moment.

Aelin shuddered in his grasp as she flinched away from the sight of Cairn. Aelin who was strong and capable and the most powerful creature he’d known shuddered. Rowan felt his body tense as he stood, gently leaving Aelin kneeling on the ground.

This male had touched her, had hurt her. And he was going to regret it.

“Cairn,” Rowan growled.

Magic thrummed in his bones and sang through his blood until it was all around him. He could feel power rising up from the deepest wells of his being, the very places he swore he would never touch.

Cain on cocked his head to the side as a predatory smile stretched across his mouth. “I think I’ll enjoy killing you, Whitethorn. And when my hands are covered in your blood I’ll take your little bitch and fu—”

Rowan attacked.

He drew the sword strapped to his back and a smaller knife strapped to his side and burned. His ice magic felt hot at it wrapped around him, urging him on. In a scant few steps, he was lunging for Cairn.

The other male hadn’t been expecting this. He fell back one step but it was all Rowan needed. He went for the exposed belly, swiping with his dagger. Cairn barely dodged and retaliated by drawing a knee up. Rowan threw him back with an icy snap of wind. The force of it threw Ciarn against a tree.

A resounding crack echoed through the forest as Rowan stalked forward.

Cairn struggled against the magic that held him. Surprise was written clear on his face. The fool either hadn’t remembered what Rowan was capable of or thought his pathetic alliance with Maeve would somehow save him.

Rowan would relish in the scent of blood that day.

…

Aelin didn't know how long it took or how it actually happened, but soon she was gathered in Rowans arms and he was running with her through the forest.

She could still smell the stench of fire and burning flesh on the air. She could still see the way Rowan moved towards Cairn with his weapons raised. She could still hear the last of Cairn’s screams on the wind.

Rowan had held nothing back in his attack. He’d taken his time to carve into Cairn’s flesh, to draw out as much pain and misery as he could.

Aelin could only watch. Watch and thank the gods for what Rowan was capable of.

Now, they eventually came to where Aelin’s growing army was camped, but she could hardly notice or care about the numbers that were gathering. All she could do was fall against Rowans chest and let him watch over her.

Even when Lysandra and Elide came to help bath and dress and treat the wounds that marred her skin. It was hard to do while stool as sentinel growling when anyone moved too close or too quick.

But Aelin couldn't bring herself to really notice or care. Not when Elide’s gentle fingers wove her damp hair into a braid and Lysandra rubbed oils and lotion into Aelin’s raw skin.

She couldn't hold back the flinch when Lysandra brushed her belly as she pulled a tunic over Aelin’s head. Lysandra froze remembering that night on the ship when Aelin told her she was with child.

"Aelin," Lysandra whispered. She hovered close, eyes darting to where Rowan glowered.

"What?" He demanded. "Is something wrong? Do we need Yrene?"

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe it was better if Yrene came to tell her that her worst fears had been realized. But she couldn't bring herself to say the words. Even as Rowan's magic enveloped her, Aelin couldn't look at him.

"Sleep," she rasped. "I just want to sleep."

Maybe she'd be able to disappear into the darkness that had been her only companion. Maybe she'd be able to forget for one moment—

In an instant both Lysandra and Elide were gone and she was back in Rowan's arms. His nose was buried in her neck, arms tight around her.

"You're safe, Fireheart, " he told her. "I promise. You can rest now. Put down your magic, love. It's been flaring for too long now."

Aelin buried her fingers in his tunic until she found his bare flesh and she could feel him beneath her. Was she still flaring her magic? She'd grown so accustomed to holding that shield up around herself that it was second nature even in her exhausted state.

“Rowan,” she whispered, his name a balm against her lips. “I’m sorry.”

He held her tighter against his chest. “For what?”

But she was already asleep.

…

There were hands digging into her skin. Determined hands that picked and prodded as they tore her apart. They ripped at the thin nightgown she wore even as she tried to pull and tug away. But no matter what she did, there was no escape.

One hand went to her throat, fingers tightening until she was struggling for breath. The other hand flexed across her stomach, the touch rough and cold.

“I’ll make you scream,” a voice said. It didn’t take long for her to place that cold, cruel voice. “And then you’ll kneel before me and beg for mercy.”

Aelin’s own scream finally pulled her from the nightmare. She thrashed wildly, desperate to get away from Cairn’s horrific torture.

“Aelin, Aelin.” Another voice, different. A new set of hands came over her, these careful in the way they held her. “Fireheart, you’re safe.”

A snarl tore from her lips, she couldn’t help it. All she could hear was Cairn’s laugh and feel the way his knife cut her skin. She needed to get away. She could focus on nothing other than the how small this tent space and how best she could escape it.

“She needs to calm down, Prince,” a soft voice said from her left, “for her own safety.”

Aelin whirled toward the voice just as a pair of hands went to her waist, firm as they tried to hold her still. They were too close to her belly that Aelin couldn’t help the defensive flare that rose within her. Her instincts took over as she grabbed one of the hands and twisted it away. A flicker of fire raced from her fingers to singe her captor.

They grunted but held on tighter. Ice met her fire and in a low hiss, the small flames burned out.

Blinking rapidly, Aelin looked up to meet the pine green eyes of Rowan.

“Rowan,” she whispered. Her flames disappeared as she took him in.

Yes. This was right. He had come for her. He had held her. He had decimated Cairn as though it were his right.

“Aelin.” Rowan stared at her unblinking. There was caution in his eyes as he regarded her, as though he were expecting her to lash out and burn him again.

The planes of his face were hard as stone as she took him in. He was ragged with bags under his eyes and stubble on his chin. But it was still Rowan. Her Rowan.

“You found me,” she croaked, her voice broken from the screams. You found us.

She released him, nearly pushing him away as everything came back to her.

Oh to fade back into that darkness that was always so welcoming and good to her. That darkness that she could sink into and let take over. If she could disappear, she could forget. She could forget the pain and the fear. She could forget the whips and the whispers. She could forget that she had certainly destroyed the one bit of happiness that was left for her in this world.

Rowan didn’t move as he watched her. But she did note the way his eyes did finally dip from her face down to her stomach.

No. No. No.

Aelin shrunk away from him. She couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t bear to tell him—

She remembered the other body in the tent with them. Aelin turned to see Yrene standing near the closed tent flaps. She had her hair pulled back with a scrap of cloth, her warm brown skin was flushed and the hazel of her eyes was dimmed from the last time Aelin had seen her.

Of course the healer was here. Why wouldn’t she be if Aelin was so broken and torn apart? And if Aelin had killed—

“Aelin,” Yrene said softly. She held out a hand in supplication. “Aelin, it’s alright. You’re still healing. I did the best I could for now.”

Bile rose in Aelin’s throat at the words. Still healing. The best she could. Her fingers wound into the front of her tunic. The walls she’d been trying to keep up were frail and weak. She knew she was hemorrhaging emotions and information directly for Rowan to pick up on but she was so tired.

“Tell me,” Aelin managed to say. She couldn’t finish the thought but when Yrene’s features softened, she knew she’d been understood.

At her back, Aelin could feel Rowan. He didn’t touch her, not yet, but he was there. His strong presence buoyed Aelin up as she waited for Yrene’s answer.

The healer nodded once before managing a smile. “Five months, your majesty. You’re malnourished and need to gain weight, but—as far as I can tell right now—the baby is fine. Small but fine.”

Aelin could only stare as Yrene took her leave and left the tent.

Small but fine. Small but fine. Small but—

“Rowan.” Aelin reached a hand back until she found him. He took her hand in his and pulled her back against his chest, his other arm tentatively wrapping around her. “I thought…I thought I lost it. I thought I wasn’t, that I didn’t—”

Her words were cut off as a sob rose in her throat. When her legs gave out from the exertion of the past five minutes, Rowan was there to catch her. He held her against him as they both sank to the ground, wrapped up in each other as Aelin cried.

Rowan only held her. His face was once against buried in her neck; his lips soft against her skin as he whispered something in the Old Language. She had longed for a moment like this for so long that she didn’t dare move. Instead, she held on to Rowan as her cries continued and eventually her body stopped shaking.

It was then that Rowan lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the small cot she’d been sleeping in earlier. He laid her down gently before curling around her. One of his large hands hovered near her stomach but he didn’t dare touch her.

“You knew,” he said, his voice was rough and worn. “You knew before Maeve took you.”

Aelin closed her eyes to the sight of Rowan’s own mournful gaze. He’d been crying same as her.

With a long breath, she took her hand in his and rested it on that too small swell. As soon as he touched her, Rowan’s body went stiff then slack, then a shudder nearly broke him apart. His hold on her tightened just barely before stopping. Aelin could feel the trembles taking him as he waited. She pressed his hand more firmly against her, holding him there even when he tried to pull away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she bowed her head forward until she rested against his chin. “I’m so sorry, Rowan.”

“I could have lost you,” he said, breath fanning over her hair.

“I didn’t think it was real,” she said. “I told myself it couldn’t be. And then I was in that coffin and I knew. I knew what I had done. And it would be my fault if—if—”

She felt another wave of tears come over her and she stopped talking. Rowan gently cradled her chin in his hand, tilting her face up. She kept her eyes closed, unable to look at him.

“And when C-c, when he started to hurt me,” she continued, forcing the words through trembling lips, “I put all my energy into trying to keep it real, to keep the—the baby safe. But every day I thought that would be it, that would be the time I failed. I’d already failed you, so why not that life?”

Rowan’s hand flexed against her stomach and his lips grazed her forehead, her eyes, her lips.

“You’d never fail me,” he assured her.

Was he not hearing her or was she not speaking clear enough? “I didn’t tell you.”

“You said it yourself; you didn’t think you were,” he said. “And when was the time? Everything happened so fast.”

His voice trailed off and Aelin finally opened her eyes. He was watching her with an unreadable expression. Aelin felt her heart tug. She had imagined him so many times in her captivity. He’d often been a dim voice in the back of her mind, but he’d been there nonetheless. Sometimes it had been him and only him that got her through a day.

“Rowan.” She kept her hand firmly over his where it rested on her belly. “I’m scared. When I close my eyes, I swear I’m back there. And when I sleep? I already nearly burned you. How can I do this? How can I do anything of this? Not just a child, but a war? How can I be strong enough when I’ve fallen apart so many times already?”

"You're not alone, Fireheart," he said. His voice was so soft Alein almost thought she'd imagined it. She watched that hard, carefully crafted expression of his soften. "Not anymore. But if this is too much, if you don't want— "

Aelin squeezed his hand knowing what he was suggesting. He broke off and only watched her.

"I choose this," she said. "And I choose you, Rowan Whitethorn. "

He nodded once at her words before leaning in to kiss her.

His lips were soft against hers. Soft and gentle as he explored her again. And Aelin, desperate for that feeling and taste of home, kissed him back. Rowan rested his hands on her hips as she rolled on top of him.

From there, she quickly took control, her mouth moving urgently against his until she was pulling his lower lip, sucking gently but needful. Her hands were roving his body tugging at Rowans tunic, the buttons of his pants. She needed him. Needed every bit of him that she could get.

And when they came together with careful kisses and whispered promises Aelin found for the first time, she was able to banish that terrible darkness away.

They still had so far to go and so much to learn—but they would get there together.

.*.*.*.*.*.