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leiawritesstories · 8 months
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Who Gave My Wife Liquor?
Rowaelin Month 2023, Day 20: Drunken Antics
y'all know i cannot resist this prompt 🤭🤭 so enjoy some fun drunken shenanigans involving the whole court of Terrasen plus Fenrys, Dorian, and some potentially bad decisions (but no angst i promise). fair warning: it's total crack, i honestly don't think it makes any sense, but it's (maybe) fun
also based off a prompt sent to @rowaelinprompts: "drunk and clingy Aelin" ;))
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: swearing, alcohol, intoxication, silly goofy times
Enjoy!!!
@rowaelinscourt
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Aelin was absolutely beaming as she descended the stairs and headed into the well-lit great room of the castle's private wing, where a fire was blazing merrily in the hearth and laughter spilled from the wide-open doors. Her heart was full twice over at the sound of her friends' laughter--they had all been through so much in the last ten years, and the fact that they could still laugh was a miracle in and of itself.
"You're late!" Dorian called, catching her arm and leading her into the informal party. "And about three drinks behind, Your Majesty." Grinning, his sapphire eyes just beginning to glaze over, he grabbed the nearest flask and poured her a cup, tapping his drink to hers. "Cheers!"
"And you have shit tolerance, Your Majesty," she teased, downing the short glass of wine in one go. Dorian rolled his eyes, and she laughed. "Lighten up, Dor. Not all of us have your youthful ability to recover." Dorian, as a human, had less tolerance than the Fae and the shifter and Elide, who could drink Lorcan under the table, but he also recovered rapidly from his hangovers.
"Again with the you're an old man jokes?" Lorcan clicked his tongue, smirking. "Wasn't it you who kept telling me to get creative?"
"That would be your wife, actually." Aelin raised her refilled cup to the hulking, dark-haired male, whose face flushed bright scarlet at her innuendo.
"Galathynius," he grunted, tipping the contents of his glass down his throat.
"Don't be so put off, darling," Elide soothed her husband. "Aelin's just grumpy because you made me scream so loud last night we woke the whole castle up."
"And I'll do it again tonight," he winked.
Fenrys spewed wine all over himself. "Fucking gods!" he shrieked, pretending to be mortified. "You lot and your insatiable se--"
"You're just as bad, Fenny," Aelin smirked. "Or should I say, good boy?"
The normally roguish blonde blushed bright crimson and said nothing, choosing to grab the nearest ounce glass of liquor and tip it down his throat. "How?!" he demanded, both mortified and genuinely curious to discover how Aelin had heard that little pet name.
She beamed innocently and threw back a shot of her own. "That's for me to know and you--and your pretty boy--to find out."
"Pretty boy?" Lysandra wheezed, slinging her arm around Aelin's shoulders. "Holy rutting gods, Fen, I knew you weren't particular in bed, but I never would have guessed you'd want to be the one taking orders."
Dorian was conspicuously silent.
Observant as ever, Aelin turned towards the young king, a smile so friendly and approachable that it was truly terrifying slipping across her face. "Dor, darling."
"Oh fuck," he muttered.
"Have you been satisfied with Lord Moonbeam's visits to your kingdom?" The enquiry was perfectly polite, even diplomatic, but the smirk on Aelin's lips added a twist to the innocent words.
Dorian picked up the closest flask and drained it.
Fenrys snickered. "Don't be shy, Majesty. We won't--ah!" His teasing was abruptly cut off with a soft yelp. Dorian flicked the blonde Fae a look heated enough to boil water.
Aelin had a very good idea just what (phantom) hands had silenced Fenrys before he could make an incredibly ribald remark. "I see."
"For a queen so revered, Ae, you have no propriety," Aedion fake-sighed, reaching across his cousin to grab the glass bottle of whiskey that had definitely come from the back of the cellar.
"Says the one who cavorted his merry way through the mountains," she retorted, passing her glass to be filled. "Say, how is Kyllian doing these days?"
"He's fine," Aedion said, too quickly.
Lysandra grinned and curled herself close to Aedion's side, whispering something into his ear that made him choke on his mouthful of whiskey and splutter the aged liquor all over his shirt.
She cackled, tears of merriment spilling out of her bright green eyes. "There's no need to worry, Aed. We're all friends here, no?"
"How sweet," Elide crooned. She pinched her husband's cheek. "See, Lor? We're all friends."
"Lorcan doesn't have friends," Rowan said, completely deadpan. He'd been lounging in a comfortable armchair, admiring his wife and sipping on his glass of liquor like the civilized old male he was.
Lorcan snorted. "Fuck you."
"Let's keep the past in the past, shall we?" Rowan smirked over the rim of his glass.
For the second time that night, Lorcan's tan face flushed violently red, and the room exploded into laughter.
"I knew it!" Aelin cried triumphantly, pointing at Lorcan. "I knew you and my buzzard were lovers!"
"Best he's ever had," Lorcan mumbled, barely audible.
Elide gasped for breath through her peals of laughter, clutching at her chest and clinging to Lorcan's broad shoulder for support. "We need to get you drunk more often, love," she wheezed.
"The hell you do," he grumbled. "That sounds like a terrible idea."
"I have a GREAT idea!" Fenrys announced, rising unsteadily to his feet and brandishing his bottle of wine.
"You absolutely do not," absolutely everyone else chorused.
"First of all, that'sh' fuckin' rude!" He pretended to pout. "An' shecon'ly, it's a great idea!" He took a long drink from the bottle and pointed right at Lorcan. "Lorky, I dare you."
"You dare me to what, Moonie?" Lorcan shot the younger male an insolent smirk.
Fenrys beamed, which was both hilarious and terrifying. "Clothes off, an' pose as a sh-sht-stashue for three minutes."
"Fine." Lorcan drained the rest of his drink, stood up, shucked his clothes except for his undershorts, and strolled out into the hall. The others followed him, laughing and playfully ogling.
Elide wolf-whistled. "Don't be shy, Lor, pose like one of the ancient sculptures." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Most of us have seen you naked, you know."
Lorcan sighed, and Aelin swore she heard him mutter something about so much for keeping secrets under his breath. "I'm not drunk enough for that, Li."
"Pity," Aelin snickered. "You'd make such a well-endowed sculpture."
"Careful, Rowan," Lorcan drawled. "Your wife's objectifying other males again."
"Who gave my wife liquor?" Rowan called, laughing. "She only does that when she's drunk."
"You're mean," Aelin teased, frowning theatrically at her grumpy buzzard.
"Thought you liked me mean," he murmured, the words a wicked promise that set her blood alight. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and laid his hand against the curve of her ass, squeezing just enough to make her inhale.
"No!" Aedion yelped, throwing his hands over his face. "Shit, I'm standing right here!"
Lysandra doubled over with laughter, throwing a wink over at Aelin. "Look what you've done to your poor innocent little cousin," she giggled, unable to get all the words out without losing her grip on her merriment.
Aelin snorted. "Lys, if Aedy is innocent, then I'm a virgin priestess."
Lys wiped tears from her eyes. "All right, you--is Fenrys naked?"
Yes. Yes he was.
Completely undressed, Fenrys sprinted down the hall and back, grinning like a schoolboy when he reached the others again. "I didn't fall over!" he crowed, exuberant.
"Didn't stand up, either," Aelin muttered, half to herself.
Rowan coughed, a deep laugh billowing out of his chest. "Give him some slack, Fireheart," he laughed. "Moonie here is a little too drunk to perform as quickly as he usually does."
Fenrys shrieked in protest. "I perform longly!"
"Tha'sh'not a word, Fen," Dorian drawled, his words slurring together.
"Neither is anything the two of you are about to say to each other," Rowan whispered into Aelin's ear.
She around and pressed her face into his chest to stifle the fit of laughter that made her whole body shake. "You and your godsdamn impeccable timing," she gasped once she'd regained her breath.
Her husband winked. "I try."
Slowly, their dear friends began to disperse, first Fenrys and Dorian, the two leaning on each other for support but still staggering, then Elide and Lorcan, and finally Aedion and Lysandra. Aelin looked around the room at the empty glasses and bottles and flasks left on tables and couches. "Should we--"
"Later." Without blinking, Rowan swept her up into his arms. "Right now, you need to go to bed."
"Is that a promise, buzzard?" She looped her arms effortlessly around his neck, lowered her lashes, and smiled lazily up at him, sending a hazy image of slick skin and dancing flames into his mind.
He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. "Don't tease me, princess." His voice dropped to a thick rumble, the way it always did when she'd pushed just the right buttons. In a blur of Fae speed, he whisked them upstairs to their rooms, kicked the door shut, and laid her gently on the bed.
And she promptly fell asleep.
Chuckling softly, Rowan slipped Aelin's shoes off, changed into his nightclothes, splashed some water on his face, and slipped into bed, curling himself around her. She sighed and went boneless against him, her breaths deep and rhythmic. In moments, he was asleep as well, following his queen into dreams as he did every night.
~~~
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dollybeagle · 5 months
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monk and surv but they look like this
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chiefhalliday · 27 days
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✧・゚— CLOSED STARTER @flynnxhalliday
— FLYNN’S APARTMENT ; EVENING
When Emilio informed Rowan that Flynn hadn’t shown up to his precinct that morning the news was met with surprise. It wasn’t like Flynn to miss work, but he was probably run down with a cold. Nothing major. Everyone was entitled to a sick day.
Then the second day came and Flynn was still absent. Rowan sent him a text and got no response, so he doubted his nephew would pick up the phone if he called. With an excuse to leave the office early (and probably for the first time in months), Rowan headed for Flynn’s apartment. He didn’t want to have to invade anybody’s personal space, especially during a time when work was not an option, but Rowan’s family was everything to him and whether he was overreacting or not was irrelevant. He had to know if Flynn was okay.
He always thought it was more polite to knock, but since he was riddled with concern and had a key to Flynn’s place (and vice versa) he thought he’d use that instead. He inserted the key into the lock, twisted the handle, and opened the door gently, hoping he didn’t startle Flynn into thinking it was a vicious intruder.
“Flynn?” He called. “Hey, it’s me. Sorry to come by unannounced.”
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listerbirdloml · 9 months
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are we ready for a silly little bicci fic?? jimmy ruminating over the fact he does in fact find lister fit?? brooklyn nine nine??
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she’s there too.
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theartofruling · 10 months
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Who: Rowan + Markus (@ocean-eyeslnrp )
Where: The Musical performance in Kings Hill
Rowan had their blanket prepared and her cute little mini with her as she leaned against Markus while listening to the music playing. Scarlett had learned to pull up on things to stand up recently and she was doing just that against Rowan for leverage. She was too young to take her first steps but crawling was on the list now. The nearly nine-month-old reached out her hands toward Markus making grabby hands for him to get her. "Looks like someone wants Papa Markus." Rowan beamed. Scarlett had a handle on a few words Mama, Dada and she was learning to say Papa. "Are you okay with her? Sometimes it's like you panic when she's fussy and think she wants to be anywhere else but with you?" Rowan asked, never knowing when a good time would be to bring up Markus interacting with his stepdaughter.
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jawbrkrs · 11 months
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continued from here.
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awake or not, her husband NEVER seemed to be much help. of course he would fall asleep, leaving a huge mess for corrie to clean up alone. she wasn't surprised by his antics at this point. crime red lips, upturned slightly at the other womans joke, relaxing as she moved in her direction. " you would think they would come up with some type of gadget to help these zippers by now. " | @esoerotica
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nolanhollogay · 1 year
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MEET AVA ROSE
Ava Rose is a lot of things: a lesbian, a french toast enthusiast, a party girl. But most of all she’s a performer. It runs through her like the blood i her veins, the need to sing, the hear the heartbeat of a crowd. And now she’s finally getting her chance.
Let’s hope she doesn’t fuck it up.
(or a quick look into my @infamous-if mc <3)
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juvinile · 22 days
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@halfrest ; delphinus heights
with a hand on the doorframe of rowan's apartment, sean was smiling - more to himself than to the dealer in front of him. "we've got to stop meeting like this," he cooed, letting his head fall back into the wood and his eyes roll closed lazily. he'd been out later than he intended to be at scuba, taking on one or two too many bowls of jolly rancher blue liquor, and the room seemed to be spinning around his sister's friend in an infinite stream of half baked color. "me showing up at your place with very little warning and nothing to offer," he pulled out his pockets from his jeans, not noticing when his wallet fell to the floor with a subdued flop. "it's not proper."
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hcavysoulss · 5 months
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event starter for @8blud, level three / ft. ximena + rowen
ximena was trained to be able to spot out people with precision. while the event casted a level of difficulty with the masks she could still pinpoint the form of a familiar informant. rowan. the brunette was stunning in her black gown. and while the white mask concealed her face she still had an energy about her that ximena gravitated towards. rowan was on the few in new york who ximena didn't mind spending time with. "you look lovely this evening." the brunette complimented as she traced a line down the structure of her mask, "such a shame to keep a face like yours behind a mask."
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atrickrtreat · 2 months
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@lcstinfantasy cont from here
Iggy was what everyone in the band loved to call a free spirit. He was always moving around and giving love to whoever wanted but Paisley was someone that he returned to more often than not lately. That didn't mean he was settling by any means, but he did rather enjoy her company. "I can stay a couple more hours, we have band practice today though, babe, I'm going to have to leave sooner or later. I know I'm irresistable but I'm sure you can spare me for the band right?"
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ldyinthewxll · 10 months
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izabella + rowan // kinda based on x @devouredher
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izabella had heard her uncle leave for practice not to long ago so she assumed she would have ample time to try at the smallest plug in the anal training kit she had ordered, the kit had only recently came in and she was nervous. her door was still open, she wouldn’t dream of breaking one of her uncles rules and disapoint him even if he wasn’t home after he had been so generous as to let her stay with him.
izabella set the kit on her bed along with the bottle of lube she ordered as well. the brunette opened her lap top pulling up her favorite porn video, as she sat down on her bed. izabella watched the video as she rubbed over her panties, she still had her school uniform on she hadn’t bothered to change out of it wanting to savor all the time she got alone in the house. it wasn’t to long before she began to get impatient, she set her laptop down and quickly took of her panties. izabella grabbed the bottle of lube squeezing a little onto her finger as she bent over her bed, her back to the door as she rubbed her lubed finger over her puckered hole she was hesitant as she pushed a single finger into her tigh asshole. she moaned out loudly at the new feeling she continued fingering her ass, and it wasn’t long before she was adding a second finger.
with her free hand she opened the kit before pulling out the smallest plug she brought the plug to her mouth sucking on it, she continued to suck on the plug while she fingered her ass. once she felt she had lubed the plug up enough removed her fingers from her ass as she reached back, spreading her cheeks with one hand, the plug in her other. she rubbed the plug over her tight hole before she began to push it in, she bit her lip as she whimpered at the new and foren stretch on her tight ass. “oh my gosh…” the femme moaned as she pushed the plug all the way in her ass, tears forming in her eye’s from the full feeling.
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leiawritesstories · 8 months
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A Visit to Orynth
Rowaelin Month, Day 24: How Rowan Knew "Fireheart"
Word count: 2.2k
Warnings: canon has been edited because i said so, Maeve, royal politics, references to the blood oath and other canon fun
Enjoy!!
@rowaelinscourt
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The prince first visited Orynth when he was a young male, barely twenty-four years old. His parents frequently traveled for diplomatic reasons, and they’d invited him to accompany them for the first time that year. We won’t ask you to do anything, they promised. Just come along and get a sense for what the world of politics is like. 
Prince Rowan Whitethorn had never been a fan of politics. He preferred steel to statecraft–give him a broadsword or a pair of hatchets any day. 
But he went to Orynth that spring, and for some reason that he couldn’t name, he felt oddly at home in the sprawling city with its unusual but somehow perfect blend of stone buildings and patches of greenspace like little meadows dotting the cobbled streets. 
He left most of the diplomacy and politicking to his parents, who spent most of their days holed up in council chambers with Queen Elena and King Brannon and their court. The first couple of days, he had to attend the sessions, and he paid as much attention as he could before resorting to drawing little battle diagrams on his note sheets. His father noticed, but said nothing, only muffled his knowing smile and quietly directed Rowan towards the training yard. So Rowan spent the rest of that visit with the palace guards, sparring and training and exchanging technique and tactical notes with the highly skilled military. 
That was the last time he visited Orynth for nearly three centuries. 
Upon his return to Doranelle, Rowan entered the legions, and he barely saw his home or his family for the next three hundred years. He rose swiftly through the ranks, ascending rapidly to the rank of captain before he was seventy-five years old. His queen took notice of his prowess, and he was inducted into the bloodsworn legions, an honor granted to precious few warriors. The decades he spent serving closely under the queen’s command honed him into a warrior of near-impossible capacity, and honed his heart into a block of ice, as impassive as the glaciers of the far north. 
~
Prince Rowan Whitethorn was three hundred and thirty years old the second time he visited Orynth. 
Erilea had been casually discussing their relations with Doranelle for the last century, and it had finally reached a point where the rulers of the Erilean kingdoms decided to host a summit and invite representatives from Wendlyn and Doranelle. Wendlyn, of course, sent a delegation of Ashryvers, who were relations of the royal family of Terrasen. Maeve called together her bloodsworn and chose two of them to accompany the five selected Fae delegates. 
“I trust you will keep your Queen aware of the discussions,” she purred, a deceptively soft smile gracing her lips as she handed Rowan and Vaughan their notes for the talks. 
Rowan dipped his head in acquiescence. “Of course, Majesty.” 
Three weeks later, as he stepped off the ship and set foot into Terrasen for the second time in his life, he drew in a lungful of the crisp, clear mountain air, and found that its scent comforted a part of him that had been empty and aching since his parents passed away. 
He pushed that thought to the back of his mind, occupying himself instead with the concerns of the discussions. Maeve had sent him–her legendary warrior-prince–for a reason, despite his lack of diplomatic skill, and he intended to prove that he could hold his own at a meeting full of human royalty. And if things went poorly, then he could fall back onto Vaugahn’s quiet, diplomatic tact. 
King Orlon Galathynius greeted the Doranelle contingent as they entered the council room on the first day of the summit. The human king was aging, but the lines around his eyes and the gray of his hair only strengthened his image as a capable, compassionate leader. According to what Rowan knew, Orlon had ruled Terrasen for nearly twenty years and showed no signs of abdicating soon, although his younger brother, Crown Prince Rhoe Galathynius, worked closely with the king. 
“Welcome to Terrasen,” King Orlon said warmly, clasping Rowan’s hand in a firm handshake that proved he retained his physical strength. “It’s an honor to welcome Doranelle back to our land.” 
“The honor is ours.” Rowan dipped his head in a bow to the king. He bowed lower for his own Queen, but the courtesy was still due. 
Inside the meeting chamber, a dark-haired, younger version of Orlon approached Rowan and Vaughan and exchanged greetings. “Rhoe Galathynius. Pleasure to meet you in the flesh, Prince Whitethorn, Lord Recorre.” 
“Please, leave off the title, Highness.” Rowan shook Rhoe’s hand, noting the insignias the human prince wore on his jacket–military rankings. “We’re all just delegates for peaceful relations, aren’t we?” 
“Indeed.” Rhoe smiled. “Let me show you to your seats; this room is rarely used, so it’s always a nightmare to navigate. I keep telling Orlon we need to use the throne room, but he–ah, Evalin!” A stately, golden-haired woman with the distinctive turquoise eyes of the Ashryver family and a slender silver circlet around her brow had walked up and laid her hand fondly on Rhoe’s arm. He tucked her arm into his with a soft, tender smile. “Vaughan, Rowan, allow me to introduce Princess Evalin Ashryver, my lovely and far more talented wife.” 
“Welcome back to Orynth,” Evalin smiled. “It’s been far too long since we hosted Queen Maeve’s people.” 
In that moment, Rowan knew two things with absolute certainty. First, Princess Evalin Ashryver knew that he and Vaugahn were bloodsworn–he didn’t know how she knew, but she did. And second, if her lineage (and her scent) were correct, she was a direct descendant of the Fae Queen Mab, Maeve’s sister, and therefore was most likely the Fae Queen of the West. 
Suddenly, he wondered if he’d been sent to Orynth to view Evalin with his own senses and bring knowledge of the Ashryver princess back to Maeve. 
The sonorous peal of the great brass gong tore Rowan away from his thoughts. 
“Ah, we’re about to start.” Rhoe dipped his head at Rowan and Vaughan. “It truly is an honor to host you in Orynth. Please, attend dinner with Evalin and I.” He flicked a half-grin at his wife. “We’d better get to our seats, Fireheart.” 
Fireheart. 
“You and your misleading nicknames,” Evalin teased as she and Rhoe walked off. Rowan’s Fae hearing picked up their conversation. “I don’t have the fire gift, my love, only the water. Fire is Brannon’s line’s gift.” 
“You have the fire in your heart, my love,” Rhoe returned. “And who knows? Perhaps someday the gift will manifest in one of our children, if we’re so blessed.” 
“It’s a slim chance.” Evalin’s whisper contained an ocean of sadness. 
“It’s still a chance, Fireheart.” Rhoe kissed his wife’s forehead. 
Rowan stopped listening then, overcome by what he’d just learned. The fire gift. It wasn’t a myth after all–the gift of fire magic laid dormant in the royal bloodline of Terrasen, and the intersection of the Ashryver and Galathynius lines with Rhoe and Evalin’s marriage just might be enough for the near-mythical gift of Brannon Galathynius’s fire to manifest again. 
Fireheart. So the prince’s affectionate name for his wife was more than just an endearment–it was a wish for their future. For their kingdom’s future. 
Fireheart. 
~
Rowan went to Orynth again ten years later, but this time, he went uninvited. He shifted into his hawk form when his small ship had docked in the harbor, and he remained in that form for the entirety of the next few days. He went to Orynth not to negotiate or pay a formal visit, but to linger on the parapets of the castle and pick up conversation. 
He went as a spy. 
On his last night in Orynth–a blustery, rainy night–Rowan perched on a window ledge and pressed his hawk body as close to the window glass as possible without making a terribly loud noise. He stretched his Fae senses down and out, into the dining room below his perch, and strained to hear the conversation taking place in the room. The royal family of Terrasen was hosting the royal family of Adarlan, and rumor had it that relations between Adarlan and every other Erilean kingdom were tense, if not outright hostile. 
Rowan couldn’t make out much of the conversation, but he heard enough. Bits and pieces of politely veiled threats, the sneer behind the king of Adarlan’s tone, the uncomfortable shifting of the staff and guards who stood at the edge of the room–it pointed towards looming conflict. He hopped off his perch and flew up to a window he knew was in Rhoe and Evalin’s chambers. Perhaps he’d hear something worthwhile from them. 
It wasn’t long before the prince and princess came wearily into their rooms, speaking in hushed tones about the poor signals from Adarlan. 
“I’m worried, Rhoe,” Evalin admitted. There was a soft clink as she laid her jewelry on top of the dressing table. “There’s something bigger than just Adarlan at play here.” 
“Something magical?” Rhoe asked. 
“It’s possible. I…I don’t think it’s purely magical, though. That ring of Adarlan’s…I can’t describe it, but I felt like it was looking at me, almost like it wanted to claim me.” 
Rowan gripped his perch with all the strength of his taloned feet, determined not to slip despite his shock. 
“Fireheart,” Rhoe breathed, coming over to embrace his wife, “are you certain? I trust your judgment–I have no way of detecting magic–but…” He took a deep, measured breath. “A wrong move from Adarlan could constitute war, and if there’s magic at play…” 
“It could end us all,” Evalin whispered. 
Rowan had heard enough. Quietly, he hopped off the window ledge and launched himself up into the wind and rain, his thoughts churning as rapidly as the storm. Adarlan. Magic. War. He hadn’t known what his Queen had wanted him to discover when she sent him to Orynth, but he’d bet his broadsword that it wasn’t rumors of magical war. 
Three weeks later, when his ship docked back in Doranelle, Lorcan delivered the news, and the information he’d heard while spying suddenly clicked into place. 
Adarlan had performed some kind of ritual that banished magic. The King of Adarlan had armies marching across Erilea to root out magic-users, and everywhere his army went, he claimed dominion. Melisande and Fenharrow had capitulated. Eyllwe seemed on the brink of collapsing. The Western Wastes and the Witchlands had separated. 
And the entire royal family of Terrasen was dead. 
~
Orynth was so different from the first time Rowan had set foot in the city, but the mountain breezes still smelled the same. The ancient and modern buildings and the winding cobblestone streets bore scars from the war, but new green life had begun to creep across the slashes and scuffs and scorch marks, blanketing the damage of war. The grand stone castle still crowned the city hill, but its doors were no longer barred. Instead, commoners and nobles and Fae–both full and partial–filtered in and out of the castle grounds, uniting the crown and the city. 
The continent was healing, and his wife had made it all possible. 
Speaking of…Aelin’s voice sounded in his mind. Is the castle really that bad, buzzard?
He grinned. I find my skills better suited to the physical act of rebuilding.
I know a physical act or two that could use your skills. 
I’m sure you do, Fireheart.
A surge of her love filled his mind. Where are you?
Near the western wall.
Solitary buzzard. He felt her bright laughter ripple through his blood, warming him through. I’ll be there in a moment.
And a few minutes later, she was there, her crown tipped sideways atop her messy hair. “Rowan.” 
“Fireheart.” He set the one last stone into place in the section of wall he was working on, turned, and pulled her against his chest, reveling in the trace of embers that always followed her. 
“You keep avoiding court when I need you,” Aelin teased. “Who else is going to scowl at the lords when they say something idiotic?” 
“I’m sure you can handle that,” he drawled. “You are the queen, Fireheart.” 
She chuckled and went quiet for a moment, gazing over the tumbled wall out into the evergreen hills. “I’ve been wondering, buzzard. Why ‘Fireheart?’ You can’t have known that’s what my parents called me when I was a child, even with all your centuries of knowledge.” Humor laced her last words. 
“Are you calling me old, love?” 
“Always.” She smirked. “Tell me, buzzard.” 
Rowan was silent for a long moment, working over the story, wondering how much he could say before someone inevitably interrupted the queen’s private time with her husband. “I met Rhoe and Evalin, once, many years ago. I remember Rhoe calling Evalin Fireheart.” 
Aelin stroked her thumb over the ruby of Rowan’s wedding band. “I never knew you met them.” I miss them, she murmured into his mind, muted grief shadowing her mind. 
“Just once.” Cupping his free hand under her chin, he tilted her face up and kissed her, soft and tender, a gesture of both love and comfort. “You are everything they dreamed Terrasen would be.” I’m entirely sure they’re smiling down on you from the afterlife, he added. 
“I love you,” she whispered. 
He touched his forehead to hers. “I love you too, Fireheart.”
~~~
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wiltingdecay · 2 years
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i forgot that i made this
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chiefhalliday · 1 month
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✧・゚— CLOSED STARTER @vanjajanko-pagonis
— THE CLOISTERS
Rowan had spoken too soon. The ‘peaceful’ protest had led to two arrests. He handled one and Flynn handled the other, swiftly taking them away from the crowd and hoping that would be the end of it. No doubt the newspapers would have a field day with this one, especially since one of the arresting officers was the Chief of Police himself. Rowan hated being the centre of attention for doing the most basic of work related things.
Rowan read the arrestee his rights, which came as natural as breathing did, whilst ensuring the handcuffs were secure around his wrists, and finished off with, “Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”
People rarely did want to speak to cops when they were arrested and Rowan was certain this guy wasn’t going to be much different. There was always some witty remark or vulgar language thrown around, though. Most never went silently. He also wouldn’t be surprised if the arrestee went for the ‘I want my lawyer’ line. If Rowan had a dollar for every time he’d heard that one he’d have retired years ago.
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highliqhts · 3 months
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availability:   closed   for   @losinqminds  !! where:   behind   the   scenes   at   a   photoshoot.
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            some  kind  of  soft  and  fluffy  pastry  in  hand,  the  name  of  she  had  already  forgotten,  ro  sidled  up  to  lennon.  dior  must  have  been  somewhere  around  here  as  well,  as  they  were  currently  in  the  process  of  yet  another  promotional  photo  shoot  for  h2o.  they  had  done  this  once  already,  ever  since  the  announcement  of  the  reboot  and  their  respective  castings  had  been  revealed.  honestly,  to  ro  it  felt  weird  doing  this  when  they  hadn't  even  really  started  filming  yet,  but  she  liked  the  opportunity  to  get  to  know  their  castmates  better.  "  did  you  try  the  craft  service  ?   i  swear  it's  godly  !  "  biting  into  the  buttery  goodness  they  were  holding,  they  let  out  an  appreciative  groan.   "  i  have  to  say,  this  is  a  step  up  from  what  i  am  used  to...  i  wish  i  could  make  something  like  this.  " 
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srtrlites · 3 months
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closed  starter — cassie oliver  ( feat. @highliqhts )  ! location  —  cassie's house in hollywood hills , around 6am .
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it's no secret to anybody who knows the blonde personally that whenever she's stressed , she bakes . all would've been cool if the fact she's been making cupcakes since 3am ( she couldn't sleep ) didn't exist , but alas ... so when rowan comes over , cassie flashes her a charming smile , as if there isn't ten trays of goodies all around her kitchen . “ so , i baked , “ she states the obvious , shrugging . “ & you're taking one tray home , “
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