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rowaelinsdaughter · 7 months

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can i request a fic with fenrys where reader is super protective of him, especially after they’re freshly mated bc faes are protective and territorial. Imagine some general in doranelle says something about him being enslaved to maeves bedroom, fenrys gets sad snd disgusted with himself and reader literally jumps on the general and almost kills him bc she’s so protective and hates seeing fen in any kind of pain

author note: omg, I LOVED THIS!!!! fenrys is one of my fav tog characters and i love him. thank u so much for requesting this <33, i've changed a few things, and I hope it doesn't matter

𝕴 𝖘𝖊𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖉 ( 𝕱𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖞𝖘 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

WARNINGS: PTSD, d@ggers, blood, angst and fluff, SPOILERS THRONE OF GLASS

You met Fenrys in Skull Bay.

Being the only two female assassins trained by Arobynn, you decided to form an alliance that became friendship. Thanks to a spell from before magic left, you were able to hide your fae features.

You knew Aelin's secret back then, and you swore to take it to the grave with you.

When he was in Endovier, you did everything you could to repay the debt to Arobynn. In the end, paid every single coin. After the tests to be the king's assassin, the trip to Wendlyn and the destruction of the crystal castle, you followed her and supported her through everything. What brought you to the Bay. Where you met Fenrys.

While Aelin and the others were in Rolfe's office, you stayed outside with Fenrys and Gavriel, this one trying to ignore your flirtations. You felt attracted to him. As if a thread came out of your heart, traveling through the universe until it reached it. But you didn't tell him, and after the fateful day on the beach and the war, the two of you decided to wait for each other, because you knew that the loss of one or the other would kill you.

It had been a month since the war ended and the bond was still fresh.

The constant desire to be together, the sleepless nights, were constant.

You knew everything he had been through and that only made your instincts activate in the face of any danger, like now.

Terrasen and Wendlyn still had their tensions, and right now the emissaries of the two nations were meeting in the meeting room of Orynth Castle.

Everyone knew the Cadre and envy and disgust appeared on each of their faces when they looked at Fenrys.

Sitting next to him and holding hands under the table, you tried to calm him down by caressing his hand and sending love through the bow.

Until…

“I'm surprised to see you here Fenrys, tell me, are you warming the bed of the queen of Terrasen now?”

There was silence, every muscle in your body tenses and you only see red.

You notice the sadness and shame in your mate’s features and that is the trigger.

One moment you were at his side and the next you were on top of the emissary with a dagger at his neck.

Your knee digs into his chest and with your other foot you immobilize his hand. You get close to his face and loudly so that everyone can hear you, you say:

“Listen to me very well because I'm not going to repeat it twice.” A trickle of blood runs down his neck thanks to the pressure you exert. “I'm not going to allow you to talk like that about MY mate, so think twice, because next time I'll kill you, understand?”

Arms lift you up and, thanks to Fenrys' powers, in the blink of an eye you are in your room.

His hands cup your face and he pulls you closer to rest his forehead against yours.

You sigh, closing your eyes, relaxing thanks to his presence. Your hands also rest on his cheeks, wiping away the tears that are now running down his cheeks.

You open your eyes and Fenrys was already looking at you with so much adoration and love that your eyes filled with tears.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you, but every day I thank destiny for having found you.”

Unable to hold on and with your heart pounding at his words, you kiss him, transmitting all your love.

Fenrys had been through too much and you weren't going to let anyone or anything hurt him.

𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅 ©𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒅𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓. 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚 / 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆.

#sarah j maas #sjm books #throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #fenrys moonbeam #fanfic #fenrys x reader #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galythinius #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #rowan whitethorn

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throneofsmut · 7 months

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Kinktober Day Two: Breeding

Fenrys Moonbeam x Female Reader

“F-f-fenrys…gods you’re so big,” you moaned, your eyes glued to where both of your hips met. Watching as the White Wolf of Doranelle thrusted in and out of you.

The both of you were transfixed watching his cock slide out almost all the way to the tip and back in to the hilt. Fenrys groaning into your neck in response to you clenching around him when he did.

You clawing at his back every time his cock hit your g-spot, “Be a good girl, kitten.” he panted in your ear.

Switching positions he rose to his knees, putting both your legs over his left shoulder, slamming into you at a new angle that had you crying out with your eyes screwed shut.

“You gonna let me fill you up? You want me to fill you up, kitten? Hmm?”, he says in between pants. By the way he sounds you can tell he’s close too. And all you can do is nod your head in response to his questions.

You know he’s smirking when he says, “Use your words, princess.”

Fisting the sheets below you, “Yes."

“Yes What, Kitten ?” His teasing tone making you open your eyes and before he can react he’s pinned underneath you, “Come on, Fen, fill me up.”

Both of you know he can just as easily flip you so he’s on top. But the way his cock is hitting your sweet spot perfectly and your clit is rubbing against him feels too good, for the both of you. And he loves the sight of you riding his cock with your tits bouncing to the same rhythm your hips are. Unbound hair moving wildly around you as you smirk down at him, knowing the effect you have on him. Causing something to flash in his eyes and before you know it he’s gripping your hips and thrusting up into you mercilessly.

You hold onto his forearms as he growls, “You’re going to be a good girl and fucking take it”.

“Yes, yes please!”, you cry out as the both of you reach your peaks together.

#throne of glass #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #throne of glass smut #throne of glass fanfiction #fenrys smut

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shyvioletcat · 20 days

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So, it’s my Birthday! This is my present to myself, a little self indulgent single parent au because it’s is my birthday and no one can stop me. I wrote this as part of the @throneofglassmicrofics prompts from last month but I never had the time to polish it off until now. This was for the prompt ambivalence and my plan is to continue this fic with more with neat little 1000 word updates. Good news is I know exactly where it’s going. So please enjoy!

~~~~~

Rowan pulled up to his new place of residence at 9am sharp, just like he planned to. He had flown in from Doranelle two weeks ago and spent the majority of that time coordinating with the real estate and delivery companies so he could get into his new house as efficiently as possible. A new job had brought him to Orynth, and not one for the hustle and bustle of the city he’d found a quaint little house on the very edges of the city outskirts. It was well and truly the suburbs, but he didn’t mind. Rowan never really understood the aversion society seemed to have to them. It was quieter and less busy, more than a wall between one home and the next. What was there not to like?

A mattress and bed frame were the first on the list of things to be delivered, after that it should be his personal items that he had shipped here. Over the next week he’d be waiting on that bell to ring while he got himself settled. After that his break from work would be over and he would be ready to jump guns blazing into his new life. A fresh start was what Rowan needed and what he was determined to get.

At 9:15 there was no sign of his bed, by 9:30 he was still in a house devoid of furniture. Leaning on the kitchen counter was becoming uncomfortable and with nothing to sit on inside he’d chosen to sit on the top step of his front porch, scrolling through his phone while repeatedly looking for delivery updates. Rowan realised that ther morning sunshine was great here, maybe he’d spend his time waiting finding a chair to sit on when he sipped his morning coffee.

The sound of a screen door clanging shut from next door drew Rowan’s attention. Glancing over he saw a woman stepping down from her own porch, wearing a soft looking dressing gown with a small infant cuddled against her chest. Rowan couldn't see much more than that besides a mess of golden hair that fell down the woman’s back, catching the morning sunlight as she walked. She hadn’t noticed him, she just seemed to murmur to the baby in her arms, heading towards the bins, no doubt to set them on the curb like the other houses in the street had. Rowan watched her precariously manoeuvre the first bin one handed, and then come back for the other. That seemed to upset the baby who cried and wiggled, the bin scraping on the concrete of the driveway as the woman had to suddenly let go. Before he knew it Rowan was across his own front yard, stepping over the small line of shrubs into his neighbour’s so he could help her avoid disaster.

It caught the woman’s attention, had her looking over as Rowan got closer and said, “I can get that for you.”

The hostility in her eyes had him stopping before he could even reach for the handle. What really took him aback was how beautiful this woman was. Not that he had expected her not to be, but it was just how striking features were. Her eyes were bright with ire, only emphasising the startling colour of them. Crystal clear turquoise, like a sundrenched shoreline. Her full lips pursed in annoyance and there was a light dusting of freckles across her nose. If he was meeting this woman in some random bar he might have tried his luck. Maybe not if she was looking at him the way she was now—like she was ready to rip out his throat for no apparent reason.

“I can do it myself,” she all but barked at him. “I don’t need any help.”

Rowan backed up a step, his temper prickling at the undeserved hostility. “Certainly didn’t seem that way.”

The woman glared at him. “I don’t need your fucking judgement.”

A scoff might have escaped him if he had a little less self control. “I wasn’t—“

There was no chance to defend himself, the woman ignoring his attempts. “Don’t even bother.”

With that declaration Rowan didn't know what else to do but leave her, retreating to the safety of his lawn, just watching what would unfold next. The baby, who couldn’t be more than six months old—younger even— fussed even more as the next bin was taken down to the curb. Besides a head of thin wispy brown hair and a beige sleepsuit Rowan couldn’t determine much more about from this distance. It was outright crying by the time the woman had reached the front door where she paused to deal with the door. She saw him standing there watching, rolling her eyes with what Rowan could most accurately describe as disgust. Then they were both back inside, the cries loud enough they could still be heard from where he stood. That was not how Rowan expected his first interaction with his new neighbour to go.

All he had tried to do was be nice when she was clearly struggling. Rowan didn’t know if she had misconstrued his intentions or what, it was ending with him being less than impressed with her reaction. He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt but being sworn at and treated with utter contempt was hard to ignore.

Rowan turned his back on the new neighbours and their house and went back to his front porch step to keep waiting. As he sat there the bitterness of mistreatment settled on him and he decided that keeping to himself was a good idea. It had been his way of life for years now—helped him survive. He was used to the solitude, there was no reason to question its perks now. So Rowan ignored the fading cries and read through reviews on a chair he was looking at, more than happy to focus on his world and nothing else.

~~~~~

It’s my birthday, I can make all the drama that I want. It’s allowed 😂

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starsreminisce · 4 months

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Rowan: Admires the strength Aelin displays as she wields her fire towards her enemies, letting her use his own power, and is always surprised by her quick thinking.

Rhys: Knew he was in love with Feyre when she fought against the Wyrm. Wanted to get her trained to use her gifts and helped her overcome those obstacles.

Lorcan: Knew he was in love with Elide when she picked up the axe to slay the ilken. Protested to let her go into Doranelle to scout out where Cairn was keeping Aelin but eventually relented and instead stood by the entrance waiting for her to return.

Cassian: Knew that Nesta just needed a healthier way to channel her anger, accompanied her to all her missions to search for the trove, even after he spoke out against it to the Inner Circle.

Azriel:

Azriel: Gave Elain Truth-Teller and then still turned around and said she shouldn't search for the Trove. Didn’t even acknowledge in his own POV that Elain stabbed Hybern.

I'm not sure if using previous books was the best argument to make, considering every single one of these fae males shows the admiration and attention to their training for their mates that Azriel reserves only for Gwyn.

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #antie/riel #antielriel

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saphirered · 8 months

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I have a request! I am in desperate need of anything for fenrys X reader 😩 I love a good enemies to lovers Trope 😏 (but you can do what you want!!)

It's been a while so why not kick off with a 3 part story. 1.5k each sound good? Here's the first part. Enemies comes first so expect some angst and canon typical violence. Happy reading! 😘

When he took the oath he followed his twin because they stood together. They’d remain together no matter what. Fenrys, though blinded by all that glory had to offer, was not entirely disillusioned with the strings that came attached even if he tried to desperately ignore them until he couldn’t. Things got worse of course. The further he strayed, the tighter the leash. He told himself it was simply a price to pay; one where his brother would be safe, where he could live his life freely some of the time and live gloriously. Was it worth it? He used to think so. Though what frustrated him is that no matter what, there would always be this thorn in his side, the true pearl in Maeve’s collection of empty shells. You. Maeve might lack the ability to love and truly care for anyone but herself but when it came to you there was a weird sense of possessiveness. The Cadre might have been the prized bloodhounds and guard dogs, but you were something different entirely. You were her songbird; to sing at her command, to be shown off as a prized possession and put on display for all to see. What made Fenrys hate you is that you seemed o bask in the glow of it all.

You stood at Maeve’s side always. You never had the need to warp her words to take some illusion of freedom, to escape her clutches for a moment longer before the leash pulled you in. There was no leash on you. Maeve never had you swear the oath. You were just there, you could walk out of Doranelle but you chose to stay at her side. You stood there with your head held high. You needed not fear the strike of a whip. No rope would wrap around your neck and choke the air out of your lungs for a misspoken word. There was no reason for you to follow her commands other than loyalty. Your loyalty had to be a choice because you’d seen it all, you stood there and watched the bloodshed and torture and pain inflicted upon others. You did not even turn your head when faced with the horrors. You simply stared with cold indifference.

What Fenrys didn’t know was you might not be on that same leash as him, you are caged either way. Maeve took great pleasure in the fact she did not need to have you swear the blood oath. No what she had on you would be more than enough to keep you from rebelling, from stepping even one toe out of line. You had been there before Fenrys so he had not witnessed the torture you endured; that if you looked away from the bloodcurdling screams, from the pleading and begging and met them with anything other than indifference at best or cruelty of your own at worst, you would be offered the same punishment as them. You were a prisoner and no amount of torture had you spill the secrets you kept. It was an eternal stalemate. Torturing and killing loved ones, that simply wouldn’t do. You’d die with them and you’d be useless, but keeping you around even if she would have to wait centuries for you to finally break and spill, not only was she patient but she took great pleasure in it all; in what you’d become.

While the cadre was sent out to fight wars and bask in the glory of bloodshed, your dalliances with the upper class of nations were no secret. When those nations failed to submit to Maeve’s wishes, you’d swoop in and convince them otherwise. When rebellion arose, you’d be the face trying to quell and snuff the flames before they could spark. You’d use your charm and body to entice and bring the most favourable outcome for Maeve. At some point Fenrys considered you might have been as in love with her as Lorcan and you’re simply wrapped around her finger. He hated you for the special treatment you got. He hated how okay you were with everything you faced, how you presented yourself like you were better than them. He hated that in Maeve’s eyes you could do no wrong and they’d be sent to clean up the mess where your persuasions and deception failed where they got tortured for setting one foot out of line. So he would make you pay in his own way. Of course he would not dare lay a hand on you, especially unprovoked, be that out of fear for Maeve or simply because it felt wrong, there is plenty of ways to press someone’s buttons and he just happens to be very good at it. That’s exactly what he spent the next century or so doing.

What a blessing it was to have you be sent along on a mission. There was no escape for you, and no one to truly punish him for his awful behaviour. If you were to be his warden then he would make that a living hell for you. He’d done so successfully that now you sent Gavriel with him in your stead to negotiate with the Pirate Lord. He’d watched you burn from within but then you’d take that frustrating breath and all emotion would ebb away. Your pretty face would turn ever so cold once more and thus with it the small spark of satisfaction on his end died away. He submitted to your command either way. He had to. Maeve’s orders.

When he returned he saw you on that couch, head bowed forward, hands in your hair. If he dared be so bold, he would have sworn he saw the light tremble to your body but it instantly disappeared upon his arrival.

“Why so glum, sunshine?” He decided to gracelessly drop himself onto the couch opposite of you. You brush your hair from your face and look up, once again eyes deadly cold, though right now there’s an exhaustion haunting your entire being he cannot quite place.

“I’m not in the mood for your teasings, Fenrys.” You struggle to keep the inner turmoil from your voice. You have to be strong. You have to be thick-skinned. You have to keep taking the blows. Not like you don’t deserve them. Now more than ever must your resilience last.

“You never are. Now are you going to tell me who pissed in your soup? I’d like to personally thank them for getting you to show even an ounce of discomfort and might want to ask for some pointers on how to wear you out like that. You keep refusing my other advances after all. I’d say exhaustion suits you but…” You can’t do this. You’re hanging on by a silken thread and it’s about to snap. You rise to your feet and make for the door but just before you reach he is blocking your way. You try to get around him but he holds you back.

Fenrys is too caught up in his own mind to realise you flinch at his touch, how you pull away. He misses that paranoia and drop of remorse blinking through you. He’s too focused on making your life hell and right now you’re making it very easy for him. You’re not one to run away but rarely there is no one else to tell him off, to face him with the consequences and remind him of his stupidity. He’s had his toes stepped on already. He’ll take great pleasure in playing this eternal game with you. He might not be able to get to Maeve to get recompense, but he sure as hell can take those grievances out on you.

“Fenrys let me go.” You demand. Your breath is high in your chest as he holds onto your shoulders. You shake him off and step out of reach but still he stands between you and your escape to the outside.

“Or what? You’ll tattle on me to Maeve?” He mocks. You can clearly see that frustration burn beneath his skin and he has every reason to be frustrated. You’ve stood by for decades. You were perfectly fine letting his brother suffer, letting him suffer if it meant you kept the strings in hand. If it takes being cruel then so be it. You’ll be cruel. You’ll strike where it hurts. Your words are much sharper than your claws and they cut far deeper. He was not prepared for what you said next. He did not count on his impulsiveness to be so crippling to his better judgement.

“If I do we both know you won’t be the ones to suffer at her hand for it.” That’s it. Fenrys snaps. Next he knows you’re against the wall and his hand grabs your throat. You struggle to breath from the crushing force and claw at his hand to no avail. No, you weren’t truly trying. He sees it now; acceptance, relief even. In that very moment you are prepared to meet your end. He wouldn’t have done it of course, he might be stupid but he’s not outright suicidal but you didn’t know that. It’s the first time he’s truly seen you break. He has half the mind to wonder; never has he seen you break, so what has gotten you to do so now? He noticed the crack in your perfectly crafted armour. It took him a while before he realised there were many more.

“Lay a hand on Connall and I will personally repay you in kind. With interest.” He lets go and air enters your lungs once more. You wobble on unsteady feet as he exits through that door and leaves you alone with your thoughts. Once you are sure he’s truly gone you simply drop to the ground, hug your knees and stare into the abyss. You’d ran out of tears a long time ago.

#throne of glass x reader #throne of glass #fenrys x reader #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fic #throne of glass fenrys #fenrys moonbeam #tog x reader #kingdom of ash #tog fanfic

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mariaofdoranelle · 1 month

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Look at Us Now - ch. 24

Fic masterlist

I’m so happy to get this one out!! I’ve been thinking about this chapter for an insane amount of time. Enjoy!

Warnings: sex shop stuff

Words: 3,3k

Of all the times Rowan listened to his dumbass coworkers out of curiosity, he never thought he’d follow through with any of their advice. Yet, there he was, in the rope section of Doranelle City’s newest sex shop.

At first, he couldn’t believe that an old small-ish supermarket closed, and in its place someone opened a giant adult shop. Then, Rowan couldn’t believe he came here to check what the fuss was all about. He had more than enough confidence to stand tall while checking the most bizarre aisles, but he wasn’t used to picking and choosing vibrators the same way he did his groceries.

Still, regret was the furthest thing from his mind when he saw the lingerie section.

There, hanging between lots of blacks and reds, a scrap of golden fabric caught Rowan’s attention. After hurrying there with his basket, he took a good look at it. The tag said ‘three-piece embroidered lace garter lingerie set’, but he was struggling to understand where each part went. All he saw was so many straps around the sheer lace that was the actual lingerie, and gold. Not yellow—real, metallic gold.

This. He just found the perfect, most selfish apology for those ripped panties.

Getting the bra sizing right was a struggle, though. Rowan squinted at his hand, muscle memory mimicking how it grabbed Aelin’s breast, and tested the different sizes on his palm.

It was almost time to go, so he made his way to the clit vibrator section. Aelin’s only one was attached to a penetrative stimulator, and while it was great, it didn’t quite fit this specific idea he had in mind.

However, right before entering his aisle of choice, Rowan spotted an awfully familiar blonde head.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Retreat.

He stood where Aedion couldn’t see him and checked the time. A little more and he’d be late, which wasn’t an option. Rowan was going to pick Maisie up at school alone because Aelin wanted to take a nap after work—he couldn’t afford to wait until Aedion left.

In a bold move, Rowan entered the aisle, standing on its end while the other man was in the middle. He wouldn’t be able to see everything, but hopefully enough to pick what he needed.

Still, he kept an eye on Aedion, briefly glancing at him every now and then while looking at all kinds of clit suction vibrators.

In one of those times, Aedion was already looking at him. Shit.

For once, he was glad that the families didn’t know about his relationship yet. Aedion had no idea that he was here with ravishing Aelin in mind, and the last thing Rowan wanted to know was the purpose of the other man’s… purchases.

Turquoise eyes met pine-green, but he still looked around to see if the Aedion was looking at someone behind him. Nothing. They were alone in this aisle, staring at each other for what felt like ages.

Rowan took a step forward. “Hey,” he said in a stiff greeting.

“Hey.” Aedion’s greeting was almost a wince. “You…”

“Just buying some stuff.” Rowan’s neck felt on fire with embarrassment as he played nonchalant. He hid the chosen purple clit sucker deep inside his basket, as if the man beside him hadn’t seen it already. “For myself.”

“Same.” Aedion’s unusual lack of words was a relief.

Rowan eyed the vibrator and anal beads inside the man’s own basket. Well, good for him.

˜˜

“YOU’RE SORRY!” Maisie shouted on the garage floor, trashing in her father’s arms.

“I’m not, love, you can’t play drums while your mother’s asleep.”

The little girl screamed louder, tears streaming down her already puffy face. After a lot of improvised, unpolished drumming sessions, Rowan and Aelin enrolled her in weekly lessons. While they encouraged the little girl to keep practicing, her learning process was hard on their eardrums.

It broke Rowan’s heart to see Maisie like this, but work has been running Aelin ragged lately; he couldn’t allow their daughter to play when her mother was finally letting herself rest.

Still, the little girl threw herself on the floor, then threw a drumstick at her father. The wooden mallet hit him in the chest, and though it didn’t hurt at all, its weight wore down his thinning patience.

Who. The fuck. Gave. This child. Drums.

He drew a deep breath to calm himself, but it didn’t stop his Dad Voice, as Aelin would call it. “Maisie Whitethorn,” he chided, “if you throw another one of these… forking sticks at me, you won’t see them again for a helluva long time, you hear me?”

Defiant as the day she was born, Maisie held her head high despite the teary eyes, squared her shoulders, picked the same drumstick off the floor and threw at Rowan again.

That’s when the unwavering patience he reserved for his daughter snapped.

Blood boiling, he threw her over his shoulder—her five-year-old body was lighter than a potato sack anyway—and left her in the garage, ready to put her in time-out for eternity. Maisie trashed, likely hurting his back as she did it, but it was hard to pay attention to it over the pounding on his ears, caused by anger and her shouting both.

“What’s going on?”

Aelin’s voice coming from the living room stopped him short. Rowan took in his girlfriend’s messy hair and slightly puffy face from her nap on the couch; his heart sank with the realization that she woke up anyway, and it was his fault.

“I told her to stop the drums so you could sleep, then she threw the drumsticks at me and is about to get grounded for eternity.”

Aelin gestured for him to pass Maisie over at the same time the little girl wiggled out of his grip, even with her head on Rowan’s back, away from her mom; it sometimes stunned him, how in sync these two were.

She sat with their still crying daughter on her lap. “Maisie, we don’t hit the people who feed us.”

“Or anyone,” Rowan added, eyes hard.

He was a firm believer that, sometimes, violence happened to be the last and only resource to resolve things. It wasn’t a good lesson to teach a little kid, though, especially when she could think that a minor conflict at the playground required extreme solutions.

Aelin wiped out Maisie’s tear-streaked cheeks and combed her hair out of her face with her fingers, showing a gentleness she rarely showed for people outside her family. “Do you understand why we’re upset with you, honey?”

“Daddy said I’d be in trouble if I threw another stick!” The girl’s high-pitched voice cracking and raspy as she tried to defend herself. “I didn’t! I threw the same one!”

Rowan’s mouth fell open as he felt disoriented with his daughter’s Aelin-like defense. If she was like this at five years old… he didn’t want to think about what would happen in ten to twelve years.

“Maisy Daisy,” Aelin warned in a calm yet alarming tone. “You know you shouldn’t have thrown that stick at all.”

“We can’t find loopholes for hitting people,” Rowan added, still stunned, and looked at Aelin. “She’s still getting grounded. Maisie’s not playing anything if she acts like she was raised in the wilderness ”

“But I didn’t throw another stick!”

Aelin winced, and from her looks she seemed to say she has a point, Buzzard. A sigh. “What about cutting drumming time in half this week?”

Maisie gaped, outraged.

Rowan tilted his head, pretending to think this through. Reducing something instead of cutting it off usually worked best in his family, but he still threatened with the worst option for impact. When suspended something completely, if Maisie didn’t convince her father to suspend the punishment at all—which completely weakened his authority in the long term—she’d have several more meltdowns they couldn’t avoid because she was still learning to regulate her emotions.

“Sounds reasonable,” Rowan finally said.

However, Maisie shook her head. “I don’t like that.”

Aelin snorted. “You’re not supposed to like your punishment, honey.”

They settled in the living room when Maisie cooled down, her and Fleetfoot playing in the mat as quiet Rowan could expect a kid and a puppy to be.

He and Aelin stayed on the couch, her soft body resting half above him, in a drowsy state.

“It’s almost dinnertime,” he said. “We could order pizza.”

Aelin’s only response was a grimace, but Maisie’s loud cheer made her agree to it.

Rowan would be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. For days now, her sleeping and eating patterns were off, and it could only mean one thing: a depressive episode.

He knew it, because he studied it. He had every sign engraved in the back of his mind, alert for when she needed him again, to not let her down again. Ready to be there and support her in any way he could, Rowan just didn’t think she would be the one to evade him.

He thought they were better at communicating, better than this, but each time Aelin shut him off and said she was feeling emotionally good, just a little tired even if all signs pointed otherwise, his heart sank with doubt.

“Hey, Buzzard.” Aelin ran a thumb over the crease between his brows, where a frown must’ve formed at some point during his musings. “What got your feathers all ruffled?”

Well, since she asked, he might as well tell her. “I—“ Rowan’s eyes zeroed on Maisie. This wasn’t something to discuss in front of a little kid. “Mais, it’s almost time to go to your mother’s. Can you go pack your bag?”

“No,” the little girl said, plain and simple as if his request wasn’t a polite order.

Aelin sat back, leaving their cuddling position with both brows up. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll go pack my toys to go to my other house, then Dad’ll go with us, and we’ll do the same things we were doing before, but in another house. Every. Time.” Maisie’s brows remained drawn together, her little arms crossed. “I’m so tired from packing my toys that much.”

Rowan and Aelin both froze, staring at their daughter after this bomb she just dropped. To be fair, Maisie was completely right. They kept the same custody arrangement as before, but one parent would follow the other to be together, so the three of them were basically going from one house to another.

He could point out that packing a bag of toys wasn’t nearly as much work as the packing her parents did, but Rowan didn’t want to argue with his daughter because he agreed with her. They were so worried about maintaining a steady routine for Maisie, they weren’t expecting her to point out that this arrangement made no fucking sense anymore.

And most of all, Rowan really wanted to take a bunch of next steps with Aelin.

“We’ll take this into consideration,” Aelin said, reluctant. “For now, you’ll still have to pack your toys.”

Maisie got up and complied, but not without grunting a few complaints, Fleetfoot hot on her heels.

The second their daughter closed her bedroom door, Aelin jumped on Rowan, trapping him with both arms on the couch.

“She’s right, you know?”

Rowan snorted. “You’re taking advice from a child now?”

Looking oddly invigorated by how Maisie brought up the subject, Aelin was undeterred. “Let’s move in together.”

Yes. Rowan opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. “I thought you wanted to take things slow.”

The three-month mark she requested to tell people about their relationship was so close he could taste it, but no matter how much Rowan wanted to test her boundaries, he couldn’t. She was the one to request them, which made him question this sudden change of heart.

An adorable blush creeped up her neck and cheeks. “Because that’s the responsible thing to do. Don’t you hate being responsible sometimes?”

Rowan chuckled, amused, because not being responsible was never an option for him, the only exception being when it came to Aelin. Still, they weren’t two twenty-somethings moving in together on a whim to share rent. They had logistics to discuss, Maisie to think about, and their on-base housing that would be incredibly hard to regain if either of them gave up on it.

He kissed the bony tip of her nose. “We can talk things over until we’re ready, yeah?”

And by that, Rowan meant that he just wanted to wait long enough to be sure she wasn’t crossing her own boundary in an impulse decision she’d regret later. He was so fucking ready to move in with her for real and stop ironing his uniform at 5:30 a.m. because it got rumpled in his bag.

Aelin nodded, eyes intent on him. “Sure. That’s where we’re headed, right? Moving in together, I mean.”

“Fuck, yes, we are,” he said while giving her a crushing hug.

With a silly grin, Aelin cupped his face and kissed him. It was sweet and shallow, since they were smiling too much to deepen it, but Rowan loved it. Every kiss with her, every time, it blew his mind.

However, they were brutally interrupted by a high-pitched scream, painfully loud in a way only horror movies could muster—and Maisie, apparently.

The little girl stood rooted where the hallway met the living room, panicked green eyes widened with the sight of her parents making out.

“Why— WHY’DYOUKISSDAD!?”

Aelin slowly detangled herself from him, and Rowan’s mind was going a mile a minute. Of all the parenting preparation he did, no one ever taught how to explain to your child that you’re dating their mother.

“I was kissing your father because we’re in a relationship now.” Aelin’s voice was gentle, but it left no room for argument.

Rowan added, “We were planning to tell you soon.”

Maisie was still frozen in place, and he felt like beating himself for letting his daughter find out about his relationship this way.

“Honey, I—“ Rowan scratched the back of his neck, feeling his face heat. One might think they were two teenagers getting caught by their parents, but it was actually two thirty-somethings explaining themselves to a five-year-old. “Your mother and I, we’ve been very close lately. Sharing a bed. Are you actually surprised that we’re dating?”

Maisie narrowed her eyes on her father. “I share my bed with Fleetfoot. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re right,” Rowan agreed, determined not to taint her innocent way of thinking. “But we’ve also been spending all our free time together. You see us cuddling plenty and—“

“I thought we were cuddling all the time because we’re a family and we love each other, not because you’re boyfriend and girlfriend! Ew!”

Aelin leaned closer to her on the couch. “Maisie, love, can you tell us how you’re feeling?”

The little girl eyed her mother’s phone on the coffee table, grabbed it and ran away, locking herself in the bathroom as quickly as she could.

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so throughly fucked.

The day Maisie learned how to call her grandmother, he knew he’d never know peace again.

He sighed. “I think she—“

“She absolutely is.”

Rowan met her gaze, slightly panicked, and stared at her grin with no small amount of confusion. Something about him made her burst, so she held onto his arm, shaking and losing her breath with laughter.

“That’s not funny!” He looked between his girlfriend and the bathroom door that hid his distraught daughter, not knowing what to do.

“Come on.” Aelin leaned on him, her outburst subdued. “It is a little.”

Rowan relaxed back on the couch, letting himself think about what happened in a different light, and the corners of his mouth quirked up. “The way she never suspected anything…”

“Ugh!” Aelin hugged him tight. “I want her to stay this little forever.”

“She did grow up too fast,” Rowan said in a pensive tone, and it made him think about how much he wanted to watch other tiny people grow up with Aelin. One thing at a time, though. “She’s likely telling my mother everything before the three-month mark, and—“

“Your mom will tell everyone she knows.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“It’s okay. I mean, we were close to the mark already, but…” Aelin closed her eyes and breathed deep, a small smile on her lips as she finished. “I feel great. It’s not how I wanted to do it, but I feel like it was about time.”

“Okay.” Rowan kissed her cheek. “I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it.”

Aelin caressed his face with her thumb. “I’m very okay with it.”

Her face was a breath away from his when his phone rang.

Mom

Aelin mouthed good luck at the same time he took the call.

“Rowan Whitethorn, you are in so much trouble.”

“Is that so?” he asked, unbothered by his mother’s dramatic antics.

“I cannot believe I have to learn from Maisie that you’re dating again!”

“I couldn’t hide it forever, it’s not my fault Maisie ruined the reveal we—“

“Every night, I prayed to Mala for you and Aelin to get together—for years, Rowan. Years! And when it finally happens, you can’t even bother to let me know…”

He tuned his mother off when his daughter left the bathroom, looking calmer, and sat facing her mother.

“Maisie’s here. I’ll have to hang up.”

“I’m not finished—“

He hung up.

Sitting back beside Aelin, he asked, “Do you feel like talking now, Mais?”

The little girl crossed her arms. “Are you married?”

Rowan’s eyes bulged out. “No—“ He sneaked a quick glance at Aelin. “I mean, not yet. Why’d you ask?”

His daughter hummed. “So you have a kid and you’re together, but you’re not married?”

“Yes.”

“This is weird,” Maisie mused, sitting on an armchair before them. “You tell me that people choose boys or girls to have kids, puppies or kittens with, until death or divorce; but you mixed it up and you’re doing it all confusing.”

Rowan winced. “I’m painfully aware of that.”

Aelin cleared her throat, focused on Maisie. “My relationship status with your dad might’ve changed, but nothing about you ever will. You will always come first, and we’ll always love you very much, no matter what. This doesn’t change anything for you.”

“Anything?” Maisie asked, perking up.

Aelin slowly nodded. “Anything.”

“Do I still get two Yulemas gifts?”

Cackling, Aelin squeezed her daughter in a hug. “I don’t know,” she said in a playful tone. “Rowan, does she still get two Yulemas gifts?”

“Huh.” Rowan tilted his head, pretending to think hard while a warm feeling spread through his chest. “I don’t know, I guess she’ll have to wait and find out.”

Aelin winked—she knew that being an only child and only granddaughter on both sides, Maisie was spoiled rotten by her family on Yulemas. “Any other requests?”

“No kissing!”

Aelin gasped. “No kissing?” she asked in a dramatic, almost theatrical way for her daughter’s amusement.

Maisie shook her head. “Nuh-uh!”

The mother pouted. “Then how am I going to do this…”

Next thing they knew, Aelin was pecking quick kisses all over the little girl’s face, earning those high-pitched squeals he adored so much. Rowan watched that scene, grinning and with a familiar tingling in his chest, when his phone rang again.

His mother, of course.

He showed Aelin the screen. “I should take this before she books a flight.”

“Sure.” She bit her lip, looking unsure. “She sounded angry before.”

“Actually, this is her best-case scenario for my love life. She’s just upset that I didn't tell her sooner.” Rowan kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right back,” he said before leaving to answer this phone call that could take anything between 20 minutes and 2 hours.

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @mariaofdoranelle-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin fireheart #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #look at us now

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tomtenadia · 1 month

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My new fic

Hi all,

So, I am trying to gather all the possible courage and post the Prologue of my Hockey fic. I still don't have many chapters, but I am hoping that posting it for the public will give me the push I need to write more.

So, Rowan is a Pro Hockey player in the THL (Terrasen Hockey League) and Aelin in an ex pro figure skater now working as instructor. Rowan has suffered a serious head injury in a game and has been off for a few months and is now dealing with his healing. Aelin plays tough girl but she is still dealing with the accident that destroyed her career.

A very small part of Rowan's injury and recovery is inspired by "Unsteady" by Peyton Corinne (which I recommend to everyone if you love hockey romance) and also just a smidge of Icebreaker.

Also, Rowan is a single dad to a lovely 5 years old tornado called Maya (yes, I know always the same but I love it.)

The title.... Check my heart.... a play on the concept of cross check. Not the greatest but I am bad at titles.

Anyway, I will leave you to it.

CW: mention of injuries, panic attacks

PROLOGUE

The ice rink was empty and quiet on a Saturday afternoon.

Rowan slowly walked the familiar path that took him from the changing rooms to the ice, the feeling of walking in skates still strange after two months off.

As he finally exited the tunnel, the coolness of the stadium hit his face as he sat down on the home team bench. His team’s bench. Hockey had been a huge part of his life. He had started playing as soon as he had learned to walk. His dad had been a great champion in the Wendlyn Hockey League, leading his team to many championships and countless other major victories. His dad, Alasdair Whitethorn, had been the hero for many kids. Under his guidance, Rowan had learned to skate, and to get better. He trained, he played, he breathed hockey. In high school people had started to call him his father’s heir. He signed up for uni and graduated in aeronautical engineering. Aircrafts being another passion of his. At uni he played in the team and made captain and in his final year the offers from pro teams started to rain.

His first year as a pro in Doranelle he showed the world his skills and lead the team to a cup victory. Rowan thought he was at the top of the world, until the THL, the Terrasen Hockey League, found him and got his first offer. After three years in Doranelle, Rowan was called by Perranth with an offer that was impossible to turn down. Rowan’s career exploded, brought him across different teams in Terrasen until he landed in Orynth as captain for the Hawks. Together they won a cup and other teams kept begging for trades but Rowan always refused saying that he had finally found his team.

His career had been on a trajectory for more success until the last season.

Until the final game in the championship when they battled the Skull’s bay Pirates for the cup.

Until…

A deep breath and he stopped as the usual wave of nausea hit him and the fuzzy memory of that night threatened to surface and break him.

If he closed his eyes he could still hear the sound of his body colliding with violence against the boards. The pain. The terror and then the darkness.

Still on the bench, Rowan shook his head, trying to chase away the memory. His team had won, after Lorcan had led the Hawks to the triumph while seeking revenge for his captain.

Even with his team mates chasing minor penalties to avenge him. Even with Lorcan getting a five minutes major for roughing after he thumped Rolfe, they still had won.

Rowan had been in a hospital bed when they told him. He should have been elated, but all he had felt was emptiness.

He blamed it on the bad concussion. His team had explained him that Rolfe had checked him from the back, pushing violently against the boards. His head had taken a bad hit as he collapsed on the ice.

All Rowan remembered was the sound of Lorcan’s voice calling for a major penalty on Rolfe, the feeling of ice under him and the taste of blood.

Another shake of his head to clear his mind and finally Rowan stood, gripping the edge of the gate. That was progress. He had made it a bit farther than last time. This time, the gate was actually open and his right foot was on the ice. He took a deep breath and the left foot joined his companion on the ice. Gently, he pushed himself away from the boards and stood there. He stared at the Hawk logo painted under the ice and then took a tentative skate towards the middle. But when he paused and took a look at the empty stadium, memories betrayed him and the screams and the noise of a game hit him. His head started pounding and a moment later he found himself sitting at the centre of the rink, his chest tight and his breathing laboured. A panic attack.

“Are you okay?” A voice called behind him.

He heard the distinctive sound of blades scraping the ice but did not turn until he saw a woman kneeling in front of him. Even in his confused state he could not fail to notice that she was the most stunning creature he ever saw. Her hair was blonde and tied in a tight high bun and her eyes. The woman in front of him had deep blue eyes with a ring of gold in them.

Was he dead? Had he actually died on that hockey game and this was finally heaven? Was she an angel?

“Hey, you okay?”

She touched his shoulder and felt real. No. He was still alive.

“You fell?”

He nodded lightly.

“Come on big guy, get up, I need the ice.”

“Oh.”

“I have a class coming and I have the rink booked up.”

Rowan stared at the woman, she had black leggings and a jumper. Her body was definitely the one of an athlete but at the same time he could see elegance in the way she stood on the skates in front of him.

“Come on, off the ice.”

“Hey, I can use the rink too. How much space are you going to need?”

“The whole of it?”

He scoffed “I just need a small part.”

Aelin snorted “The ‘learn to skate’ class is tomorrow morning.”

Rowan stared at her aghast. Did she have no idea who he was?”

“I can skate.”

“You fell and look unsteady. I doubt it, big boy.”

“What, you never fell in your life?”

Something strange passed in her eyes and Rowan had a feeling it was hurt.

“You really have no idea who am I?”

The woman folded her arms at het chest “Should I?”

“Captain Whitethorn of the Hawks.”

She snorted loudly “a hockey barbarian, I should have suspected.” Her tone dripped disgust.

“I assume you don’t follow it.”

“What, watch a game where ten men skate on the ice like brutes and pound each others just for the sake of it?” She protested, not moving from her stance “the only thing I know is that you oafs destroy my ice and it takes the Zamboni a lifetime to repair the mess you make.”

He was about to reply when he heard voices and saw a group of kids entering the ice “Well, princess, your class is here,” he touched his head in salute and in a powerful move he skated to the opposite side of the rink, well far away from the woman.

It was later on when he finally left the venue with a sliver of hope. It had been his first day out on the ice since the accident and he had gone through some basics exercises that coach Gavriel had recommended. It had not been easy and being back on the ice had felt alien all of a sudden. A few times he had stopped to watch the strange woman teach young kids figure skating. He had watched her demonstrate some basic moves and he had been totally enthralled by her.

Now he was finally home and a smile appeared on his face when a little tornado crashed against his legs “dad, you are back.”

Rowan kneeled and kissed the girl who was his clone “I am, muffin, did you have a great time with grampa and nana?”

“Yes, we baked.” She grabbed his hand and dragged her father in the kitchen where on the table lay numerous trays of chocolate biscuits.

“Did you bake for an army?” He asked his mother.

“We are taking some of them for her friends at skating classes.”

Aside from hockey, Rowan had another big love in his life. His daughter Maya. His life. His everything. Maya had been born five years earlier from his first marriage. He had met Lyria still back in Wendlyn. Lyria was a rising star in the world of figure skating. He had fallen hard for her and a year after dating he had asked her to marry him. Not long after they got married he got drafted in the THL and Lyria refused to move due to her busy competition schedule. One of the biggest championship was happening in Wendlyn that year and Lyria wanted the win.

Lyria’s dream got destroyed when she discovered she was pregnant. Rowan had gone back to Wendlyn to watch one of her competitions but Lyria never turned up. She gave birth to a baby girl a month before the world championship.

The day after she had been discharged she had served him the divorce papers and a letter in which she renounced to all her rights as mother. Lyria had left the house the following day. No goodbyes, no last words. Just a a note on the bed reading You ruined my dreams.

Two days later he was back in Terrasen with a newborn baby and a career as pro hockey player. He had tried to find some information on Lyria after he was back. She had moved to a land very far across the ocean and had tried to restart her career but eventually gave up and became a trainer.

“Were you on the ice?” Asked his father sitting at his side on the sofa.

Rowan closed his eyes and nodded.

“How did it feel?”

“Alien,” the answer barely a whisper “I hated being on the ice, dad.”

“It takes time.”

“The team will be back from summer training camp in two weeks and then we need start preparing for the season. We have the first friendly game at the beginning of September against Perranth. I don’t have much time.”

Alasdair placed a gentle hand on his son shoulder “I know, but recovery takes time. Especially after such trauma.”

“I am the captain and I am letting my team down.”

Alasdair was about to reply but Maya came running and screaming for her father’s attention. “Dad, nana says that dinner is ready. Wash your hands.”

The girl was about to run away but Rowan stood in a powerful motion and lifted his daughter upside down on his shoulder. Maya laughed freely and patted his back screaming to be let free.

Rowan deposited his daughter on her chair and inhaled the scent on his mother’s cooking.

Being a famous THL player came with perks. He had signed a very good contract with the Hawks that allowed him to live a very comfortable life. He had bought a beautiful house in the outskirts of Orynth near nature. While all of his team mates had modern luxury mansions in the centre, he had gone for a cottage that he had slowly expanded and fixed up. It was cozy and, most of all, Maya loved it. They had a lake at the back that in summer was used for swimming and in winter they would use to skate together. Most of his money went to make sure his daughter had a good life. When he came back from Wendlyn with an infant, his parents had flown to Terrasen to help him and Rowan would be forever grateful to his parents for the help they had given him especially when he was away for his games.

His mother’s voice woke him from his thoughts “Are you taking Maya to the rink tomorrow morning? It’s her learn to skate class.”

“Yes. I need to go and train anyway.”

“Rowan, you should not push yourself too much.”

He sighed. His mum was a sports doctor and she saw his situation from the point of view of a physician. His hand curled in a fist and took a deep breath, he knew his parents were just looking after him “Mum, I am just getting again familiar with the ice.”

“Nana, can you skate?”

Rowan mentally thanked his daughter for the interruption.

“Yes, my love. Your grampa taught me to skate a long time ago.”

Maya smiled happily.

“Once the lake is once again frozen we can go you and I so you can show me all you have learned.”

The girl’s grin spread and her green eyes brightened in happiness “my teacher said I am good.”

Eiddwen lifted the girl on her legs and stamped a kiss on her cheek “of course baby, you are a Whitethorn.”

The dinner eventually finished and after his parents left, he took his daughter upstairs and helped her get ready for bed.

She climbed in bed and grabbed her soft toy “dad, can you tell me a story of when you won a cup?”

Rowan smiled and sat at her side. Maya had grown surrounded by hockey. Her grampa, although retired, was still an important personality in the hockey federation. He would take Maya to the games if possible and would explain what was happening. She loved listening to some of the stories of his victories from both her dad and her grampa.

“You don’t want a story from the last book we bought?”

Maya shook her head “not tonight.”

Rowan sat properly with his back against the board of the bed and pulled Maya against him “It was the third period of the cup final and we were down by one and down one man….”

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @susumaus98 @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127 @mariaofdoranelle

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #aelin x rowan #rowanwhitethorn #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galathynius

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wingedblooms · 4 months

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Sister-Glass Caverns

Warning: This is a Maasverse post, and as such, there are spoilers for all Maas series, including information connected to the HOFAS teaser.

The caves in the hofas teaser made me think about something I noticed in Elain’s witch series. In acosf, the priestesses worship in a cavern that is smooth as glass.

“…And the cave we have the service in is beautiful, too. It was carved by the underground river that flows beneath the mountain, so the walls are smooth as glass. And it’s acoustically perfect—the shape and size of the space amplifies and clarifies each voice within.” (acosf)

In the sense chanted, I talked about how this might be Prythian’s version of witch glass, which as we learned from Manon and Maeve in the tog series, has various uses:

“You can see the future, past, present. You can speak between mirrors, if someone possesses the sister-glass. And then there are the rare silvers—whose forging demands something vital from the maker.” Manon’s voice dropped low. Dorian wondered if even among the Blackbeaks, these tales had only been whispered at their campfires. “Other mirrors amplify and hold blasts of raw power, to be unleashed if the mirror is aimed at something.” (Manon, eos)

“It’s possible—to show a different world?” Dorian asked Maeve when they were again in their tower room.

Maeve slid into a chair, her face distant. “Using mirrors, yes.”

Dorian lifted a brow. “You have seen yourself the power of witch mirrors. What it did to Aelin Galathynius and Manon Blackbeak. Who do you think taught the witches such power? Not the Fae.” A small laugh. “And how do you think I have been able to see so far, hear the voices of my eyes, all the way from Doranelle? There are mirrors to spy, to travel, to kill. Even now, Erawan wields them to his advantage with the Ironteeth.” With the witch towers. (Maeve, koa)

Witch mirrors can be used to store knowledge (like the memory Aelin and Manon entered), amplify power, travel, and spy (listen and watch). It is interesting that the cave under the mountain where the library rests is described in terms of glass. Gwyn even indicates that it amplifies their voices, so if those ancient songs Clotho found were spells, it’s possible the glass amplified their power. And that spell helped Nesta enter a trance-like state and connect with the Harp.

So Nesta drifted down and down, the harp and the voices pulsing and guiding, until she stopped before a rock. She laid a hand on it to find it was only an illusion, and she passed through it, down another long hall, beneath the mountain itself, and then she stood in a cavern, almost the twin to the one the priestesses sang in, as if they were linked in song and dreaming. (acosf)

The spell led Nesta beneath the sister mountain called the Prison, to a near-twin cavern where the Harp is located. These sister caverns—or sister-glass, if you will—are linked in song and dreaming.

We learned from Amren that there is an extensive underground cave system in Prythian, meaning that there might be other sister-glass caves.

“Oorid was once a sacred place,” Amren said. […] They say the water there flows to Under the Mountain, and the creatures who live in the bog have long used its underground waterways to travel through the Middle, even into the mountains of the surrounding courts.” (Amren, acosf)

@offtorivendell, @silverlinedeyes and I theorized that the sister mountains (the Middle, Ramiel, and Prison) could all have portals to other worlds buried beneath. What if each sister mountain has a cavern with sister-glass, and these caves are not only linked to each other, but—as Maeve suggests is possible—to other worlds as well? Did ancient beings like the Daglan or death-gods (who are similar to those who taught the witches how wield the glass) create these sister caverns? Is that what Bryce, Azriel, and Nesta came across—or are searching for—in the teaser? And if ancient creatures like kelpie still use the waterways in Oorid, which is connected to the underground waterways and cave system that spans the Middle and leads to other courts, then what other ancient nightmares are waiting for them beneath?

Annnnnd if they are exploring the cave system, and it leads to Ramiel rather than the Prison, I wonder if they’ll see Balthazar mysteriously appear again. 🤭 (C’mon, you knew that was coming!)

Annnnnnnnnnnnnd if these sister glass caverns operate like witch mirrors, would that mean someone could use it to communicate with or spy on others from other worlds? Even travel from Prythian to Midgard? Erilea? I swear, if someone (please, I’m begging for it to be Elain in the next acotar book) steps out of a sister cavern and into a Blueblood ritual, my mind will explode.

#hofas teaser #crescent city 3 #maasverse theories #maas crossover theories #bryce + nesta + azriel #sister caverns #sister mountains #sister glass #that mysterious Balthazar #but you know who I really mean #I can’t help myself

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writtenonreceipts · 7 months

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Rowaelin Month Day Twenty-One: Scars @rowaelinscourt

Find my Rowaelin Month Masterlist here

warnings: none except a joke of editing, ~1k words

Scars

Aelin sighed as she knelt on the stone floor of the washroom before her daughter.

It was mid afternoon and a gentle splash of sunlight cut through the window just behind them, illuminating the small room just enough. Wynne, youngest of her small brood and current biggest problem of the castle, sat on an old oak stool with her legs kicking idly out in front of her. The wood clicked and groaned as Wynne wiggled about, unable to stay still. She was barely five years old but already had enough attitude and energy for Aelin to wonder if it was possible for her daughter to be an exact replica of her. Maybe this was the gods' retribution taking place for all the chaos Aelin had caused in her youth.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Aelin asked. She dipped a rag in a bowl of water and tonic on the ground beside her before slowly raising it to Wynne’s knee. She’d dismissed the servants not long ago, telling them she'd see to her youngest daughter. It wasn’t well received. Especially considering Aelin had cancelled a delegation meeting with an advisor from Doranelle, but she’d just send Ren along with an apology and an old weapon from the stores and all would be forgiven. Hopefully.

Wynne wiggled again and Aelin reached out to put a steadying hand on her daughter’s shoulder. It was a firm touch, steady and significant. She met her Wynne’s eyes—emerald green.

“I was playing,” Wynne said slowly. She held up the edge of her dress and stared at the cut on her knee. Already it was welling with blood.

Aelin began to clean what she could, dabbing at blood and dirt. She tried to remain gentle, but Wynne flinched all the same. Her pale hair was falling out of the coronet of braids a maid had put it in just that morning. Fine wisps fell around the little girl's face in a halo.

“Right, you were playing in the stables which I’ve told you not to do,” Aelin said.

Wynne fisted her dress in her hands and looked down. “Meiri and Fin and Coilin were already playing in there too!”

“And papa is talking to them about that too,” Aelin assured her. Really the stables were no place for any of the children but Meiri. At fifteen, the eldest of Aelin’s brood, had begun riding lessons in earnest. But even if she were learning horse care and how to ride well, she shouldn’t have taken any of her siblings out to the stables.

Aelin wiped up the blood, being careful when Wynne winced again.

Wynne had yet to display what her magic would be so Aelin didn’t rely on any special healing magic for her daughter. It wasn’t strange for a fae child to not show any magic, Rowan had assured her. But even when she was still in the womb, Wynne had been different from all her siblings.

Aelin worked quickly and efficiently until she wrapped a clean bit of cloth over and around the knee. Then she leaned over and pressed a kiss to the bandage.

“Now,” Aelin said as she readjusted Wynne’s dress. “What have we said about going to places you're not allowed to go?”

“I wanted to see the baby pony,” Wynne murmured, she clasped her hands before her and looked through her eyelashes at Aelin.

Indeed a new foal had been born just two days ago. It was wonderful and excited and children just loved when new babies came around.

Aelin sighed. “Why didn't you ask papa or me to take you?”

“You've been busy.”

The soft admission cut at Aelin and it was her turn to look away. She remained kneeling at Wynne’s side, running her hand gently over the bandage. It was true she and Rowan had been busy. Tensions were running high with the witches even if Manon was an ally. And then the flooding in Doranelle which was why she was supposed to meet with Ren. Oh, and a large portion of farmland had been eaten away by locusts that summer. It was a strange phenomenon that didn’t happen often, but when it did it made things a bit more miserable than usual.

And Aelin had needed to deal with it. Rowan had been offering services to the training the army and even going on a few expeditions as of late. He’d long loved the journey and exertion in those sorts of adventures that Aelin couldn’t begrudge him that.

But here was little Wynne who just wanted to see the new foal.

“Oh, darling,” Aelin sighed. She stood and cupped Wynne’s face in her hands. “Papa and I will always be here for you. We always want to help you. But we have these rules for a reason.”

Wynne’s lower lip trembled and Aelin swept her daughter up, holding her closer to her chest. They stood like that in the small washroom for several minutes. Long enough for Wynne’s tears to subside and Aelin to hold herself together just a little longer.

She swung Wynne onto one hip, brushing stray hairs from her eyes.

“Papa and I love you with all our hearts, you know that right?”

Wynne nodded slowly and brought one hand up to Aelin’s cheek. The touch was gentle and sudden all at once that Aelin could only look into her daughter’s eyes and wait.

“Momma?” Wynne poked at one spot in particular on Aelin’s cheek where she knew was a scar from the war. “Am I gonna have a scar like you?”

Aelin swallowed. Oh Mala, she hoped not. “I don’t know, love. Maybe.”

“I just wanna be brave,” Wynne said. She snuggled herself into the crook of Aelin’s neck and sighed. “Just like you, Momma.”

Tears pricked Aelin’s eyes and she held her daughter tight against her. This beautiful little soul was already so strong. She was her own being in a world of voices already so loud and chaotic. But Aelin knew in her mother’s heart that Wynne would one day do great things.

“You are brave, love,” Aelin said, “brave and wonderful.”

And she meant it. With all her heart.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

not tagging to try and keep my sanity in tact lol what sanity

#rowaelin #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelinmonth2023 #throne of glass #tog #fanfic

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