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autumnshighlady · 1 year

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oh my god yes please

here you go my love ;)

How Eris, Azriel, Rowan, and Tamlin carve their names into your body

tw: 18+ (duh, minors piss off), knifeplay, bloodplay, dark themes, stalking, spanking, toxic relationship

note: this is 100% inspired by @gothicbabydollz fic linked here, it's amazing! thank you to @orangejump-suit for pointing me in the direction of it!

based on this ask

ERIS

You squirmed underneath the ropes, tugging at the red silk that held your wrists locked together. Two more strips bound your ankles to the bed frame keeping your legs spread open for the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

“Now, now, little fox,” Eris purred, nipping your hip with his sharp canines. “Quit whining. You know exactly why you’re here, don’t you?”

You nodded, biting your lip. After Eris ignored you for three days, you had decided to flirt with one of his brothers during a ball to get his attention. It had worked, the High Lord visibly seething from the other side of the room as you playfully touched his brother’s arm and laughed at something he had said.

At your silence, Eris reached up and landed a sharp crack across your cheek. You gasped, the imprint of his rings stinging your flushed skin.

“Answer me when I ask you a question, whore.” Eris hissed, using the same hand that had just met your cheek to grip your throat. “If you want to act like a slut then you shall get treated like one.”

You couldn’t help it – his words sent heat rushing to your core. It did not go unnoticed. “Pathetic.” Eris laughed, releasing your throat. “You like this, knowing I can do whatever I please to your body and you will be absolutely dripping. Since you want to act like a dumb slut, I believe it’s time you be reminded of who you belong to.”

You whimpered, expecting one of the usual punishments – perhaps a whipping with his favourite leather belt. But your eyes flickered to his slender hands reaching towards the dagger strapped to his hip, widening when he unsheathed the blade.

“My Lord?” You stuttered, heart racing, but not entirely with fear.

Eris pressed the cold blade flat against your stomach, smirking as you flinched. “Be very still for me, little fox.”

Huffing, you nodded. The High Lord smirked sadistically as he dragged the blade downwards, resting the tip on the pelvic area right above your pussy. Grabbing your hip with his free hand, he pressed the tip against your skin and carved. You gasped, eyes watering at the stinging sensation. It burned, and you whimpered and tried to keep your eyes open, just as Eris preferred.

E. Beads of blood began dripping from the wound.

R. The coldness of the blade contrasting with the warmth of Eris’ hand made your brain fuzzy.

I. The High Lord’s face was focused, green eyes almost black with lust as he artfully dug the blade into your skin.

S. The blood oozing from his handiwork dripped down your pussy, mixing with your juices, which had multiplied.

Tears streamed down your face as you sobbed, jaw aching from clenching it so hard. You flinched as you felt a slender finger swipe up your core, through the mix of your blood and arousal. Even in your state, your eyes widened as the High Lord brought the finger up to his mouth and sucked, licking it clean.

“Delicious.” He purred before wiping your tears away, smudging some excess blood across your cheek. “Almost as delightful as watching tears run down that pretty face of yours. Have you learned your lesson, my little slut?”

You nodded, core aching – it was almost shameful how aroused you were from your lover carving his name above your pussy. Eris was talented with a blade, knowing just how deep to carve enough to make it scar forever, a permanent reminder that you were his.

“Good girl,” Eris murmured, crawling back down between your legs and biting the inside of your thigh. “Next time you think of flirting with my brother, remember that he wouldn’t even come close to making you feel the way I can.”

AZRIEL

You shuddered as Azriel’s scarred hand wrapped around the hilt of truth-teller. His eyes were dark, shadows whirling around his large body as he strode towards you. You kept walking back until your spine hit the cold wall of your bedroom. This was not Azriel, the quiet yet kind soul who you had first met. No, this was the shadowsinger of the Night Court, stalking towards you like a lion cornering its prey.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You spat, clenching your legs together and cursing yourself for the heat in your core.

“Shut up.” He growled, twirling the blade once in his hands.

You and Azriel had a difficult relationship and had started off as friends. Once you started sleeping together, things got different. Azriel was possessive, snarling at any male who looked at you for more than a second. It drove you crazy, which led to lots of fighting and a, what many would consider unhealthy, on and off, love hate fuckfest. He would follow you home, then fuck you like an animal and leave. It was hot, but when he decided to be an ass last week and leave you unsatisfied as punishment for slapping him in the face you decided to get even. In one of your not so bright moments, you decided to bring home the Illyrian male whom you had spotted arguing with Azriel the other day. He must have smelled you on the male, and that’s how you ended up here.

“Get out.” You shouted, heart pounding. You were met with a scarred hand around your throat, gripping tightly.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” Azriel rasped in your ear. “Not until you’ve learned your lesson.”

Quicker than the speed of light, the blade in his hand sliced your nightgown open, exposing your bare breasts and cunt to him. The night air was freezing, sending goosebumps across your skin. He let go of your throat.

“What are you doing?” You asked, panting.

Azriel tilted his head, staring down at you with such intensity you were surprised it didn’t burn your face off. “Reminding you that you’re mine.” He said softly.

“Like hell I am,” You hissed in one last attempt to fend him off. “I can fuck whoever I want, you know. We aren’t together.”

His calm smirk sent chills through your bones. “No,” He purred, wedging your legs apart with his knee. “But you will always belong to me. No other male can touch you, or make you scream like I can. Seems like you need help remembering that.”

Before you could protest, the shadowsinger dropped to his knees. With one hand, he reached up and pinned your hips to the wall with brute strength. The other angled your leg to the side, elbow pressing it into the wall as he brought the blade up to the soft skin inside your thigh.

Panic arose in you, knowing where he was headed. “Don’t–”

Your voice was cut off with a strangled yell as Azriel pressed the sharp point of truth teller into your skin and dragged it, drawing blood. Your hand grasped his wrist, clenching so hard you thought it would shatter. Biting your lip, you muffled your whimpers of pain and squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. It was hard, the cold blade stinging your skin so painfully you knew it was meant to scar. You sobbed, free hand going to clutch his hair on instinct as a wave of arousal spread through your core.

Azriel chuckled darkly as he continued his work, the smell of your blood mixing with arousal and filling the room. When he was done, you panted, looking down to see a name carved in perfect letters along the inside of your thigh.

Azriel.

“You piece of shit--” Again, you were cut off by the shadowsinger, who flipped the blade around and shoved the hilt inside of you. There was no holding back your scream this time as the sting of your thigh and the painful need in your cunt sent you into a frenzy.

“You. Are. Mine.” Azriel growled each word as he fucked the hilt of Truth-Teller in and out of your dripping cunt. Deep down, you knew he was right.

ROWAN

The loud echo of your moan filled the room as Rowan pounded into you relentlessly from behind. His hands gripped your hips so hard you knew there’d be bruises tomorrow. Your entire body trembled, already having received three orgasms in the past thirty minutes. Rowan knew your body better than his own, and was angling his hips to hit that spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Harder.” You moaned into the pillow.

Rowan snorted, still thrusting into you. “I’ll break you, princess.”

In your haze of pleasure, you scoffed. “No I won’t,” You panted between gasps. “I can tell you’re holding back. But I suppose I can always go for a ride with Fenrys if you’re not willing—”

That did it. Your sentence was cut off by Rowan’s territorial growl as he slammed into you so hard you felt it in your cervix. You tried to curse, but all words left your brain as the bed shook with the force of Rowan’s thrusts. One hand released your hip and lodged itself around the back of your neck, gripping tightly.

“You are mine only,” He growled. “Now shut up and take it.”

It wasn’t long before you came so hard you nearly blacked out, Rowan following shortly after with a roar. You were panting, body trembling as you collapsed into the bed with Rowan laying next to you moments later.

“That was more like it.” You sighed in bliss, legs still twitching.

Rowan laughed, brushing his fingers along the bruises that were already forming on your hips. “You look so pretty, all marked up by me.” Arrogance laced his voice as he traced the outlines.

“Too bad they’ll fade soon.” You huffed in disappointment – there was nothing you liked more than bearing the marks of Rowan all over your body like the finest jewelry.

You felt his movements freeze, and the space beside you was empty in an instant as Rowan got up.

“What are you doing?” You asked in confusion.

He returned moments later, blade in hand and already unsheathed. “Making it permanent.” He growled before pausing and looking at you. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” You said instantly, body heating up already at the dark gleam in his forest-green eyes.

A large hand gripped your upper thigh while the other brought the blade to your hip. With expert precision, the male growled with pleasure as he pressed the silver knife into your skin and carved.

You gasped at the painful sensation, the world around you spinning as Rowan held you in place and you felt him carve an ‘R’, followed by an ‘O’....

“Oh gods.” You whimpered, unable to focus properly as you realized what was happening. The mix of plain and pleasure was overwhelming, and your core ached with need as you watched Rowan carve his name into your hip. His sharp face was focused, white hair gleaming in the candlelight, the tattoos on his face making him look like a dark god claiming a mortal soul.

“Attagirl,” Rowan murmured as he carved an ‘A’. “Almost done, princess. You’re doing so good.”

Moments later, the blade lifted from your skin. Before you could say anything, a moan escaped your lips as Rowan bent his head down and licked up the blood. From the groan he released, you knew he enjoyed your taste in more ways than one.

Chin dripping with scarlet, the male looked up at you with dark eyes. “How’s that for permanent?”

TAMLIN

The High Lord of the Spring Court growled as his large hand came down on your ass once again. You yelped into the bedsheet, counting the tenth strike out loud. You were bent over Tamlin’s knees, your backside scarlet with large handprints scattered all across it.

A soothing rub came over the sore spot. “That’s my girl.” Tamlin said in that deep, velvety voice you loved so much.

You felt yourself being lifted upright. Tamlin turned you around, sitting you in his lap as if you weighed nothing to him. His blonde hair was messy, falling artfully across his handsome face as he smirked at you. Leaning forward, you kissed him, digging your nails into his neck hard.

Tamlin groaned, the sound sending heat straight between your legs. You did it again, this time dragging your nails ever so slightly against his skin.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, my love.” The High Lord growled at you, squeezing your thigh tightly.

You learned forward and bit the tip of Tamlin’s ear, causing him to shudder. “Scared you’ll lose?” You murmured, grinding into his hard length.

“You know I won’t.”

“Oh, but I think you will.” You accentuated your words by biting his neck so hard you drew blood. Tamlin groaned, his length growing even more between your legs and your chest swelled with pride at your ability to unravel the High Lord.

That pride, however, was short-lived. Tamlin grabbed you and tossed you back onto your front, then reached for his knife on the nightstand.

“You’re going to take it like a good girl,” He growled, straddling the back of your thighs and caressing your ass. “And you’re going to fucking like it, and not challenge me like this again.”

Before you could think of a smartass reply, you felt the tip of the blade dig into your soft flesh. You cried out, clenching the sheets as Tamlin began carving into your ass. Blood dripped onto the soft white sheets, but the High Lord did not seem to care. His only focus was on dragging the blade to form the letter ‘T’, and then an ‘A’....

You sobbed into the pillow, ass stinging in a way that paled in comparison to earlier. It burned like the hottest fire and the coldest ice, but you couldn’t deny the thrill it sent through your body at your normally firm yet gentle High Lord carving his name into your ass and marking you as his property.

It seemed like seconds yet years at the same time before Tamlin set down the blade, using the nearby cloth to wipe the blood away. He admired the sight of his name permanently engraved on your body and learned down, kissing the base of your spine.

“I win.” He murmured.

hope you enjoyed hehe

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shadowhandss60 · 26 days

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Dorian in Queen of shadows:

Stressed, depressed and posessed.

#dorian havilliard #throne of glass meme #throne of glass #manon blackbeak #manorian #sjm universe #manon x dorian #sarah j maas #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #celaena sardothien #I’ll queue whatever color you tell me to

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 7 months

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Send out an army to find you

request: can i please request a lorcan x reader where maeve kidnaps reader who is pregnant. She wants lorcans child because he left her service snd she wants someone sith his powers so she tries to keep reader until she gives birth but she is saved by him.

warnings: blood, implications of death, capture, pregnancy. The good stuff.

In other words your girl got carried away....

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Lorcan felt as if the ground had cracked beneath his feet. He fell as if he was freefalling as if he knew that the only fate that awaited him was painful death. He sensed the panic through the bond while he and the rest of the cadre had been training in the woods. The sheer amount of it had made Lorcan's knees buckle. And then he ran. He ran like he had never run before. Body moving on its own, fully trusting his instincts. He didn't care that the house might be crawling with whatever creatures had managed to get inside. The sight of the door barely hanging on its hinges was enough to make bile rise in his throat, yet he strode inside.

"Y/N", he called, going from room to room. There was broken glass everywhere, the chairs in the dining room were broken to pieces, and the utensil drawer was open. All Lorcan could smell was panic. Pain. Fear. His heart was beating so fast, he could feel it all over his body. "Y/N", he shrieked once more. He smelled you still. And that could mean two things: either he was just a heartbeat too late, or you were still here. He prayed for the second. But when Lorcan darted upstairs to see handprints of blood all over the nursery, everything around him froze for a second. The worst fears dance freely in his mind. He didn't even realize when he had started roaring. Or when all of the darkness possessed by him manifested. Drowning out all the light, making all the greenery wilt.

Lorcan felt firm hands holding onto him, trying to pick up the mess. "Let go of me", the male roared. But that wish wasn't granted to him as other sets of hands gripped his face. "I'm going to kill...", Lorcan stated. "Who will you kill? Who, Lorcan?", it was Gavriel who stood right in front of him. Paler than before. Worry laced his features as well. "You need to think", Fenrys added from the side of him, making Lorcan grit his teeth as he spat, "I'm thinking! She's gone, she's...and the baby, that's...", Lorcan felt another wave of panic rush through him. Fear when he realized that he couldn't hold onto the bond that connected you both.

"Breathe", it was Rowan, whose cold wind twirled around Lorcan now, the male trashed in the grip of his friends. "No, you don't...", Lorcan's voice broke. "Breath, Lorcan", Rowan said softly again. Lorcan knew that Rowan, of all the males, knew how painful this felt. He had lost his pregnant partner. They had all watched him fight the demons that clouded his will to live after that. Lorcan sank to his knees, ripping at his chest in hopes of feeling at least any sense of warmth from your side.

The cadre had never seen Lorcan like this. Sure, you had cracked the deepest parts of the male. You had made his presence a lot more bearable. Maker, he smiled even. Smiled from his heart during the family dinner. His prickly side was pushed aside almost fully. Saved only for scaring people away and inflicting panic on the enemy. You were his everything, and to miss that would have been impossible. Rowan clasped Lorcan's shoulders. Yet no one dared to say a single word about what this could truly mean.

You slowly drifted back to consciousness. Frowning slightly once the unfamiliar surroundings began to emerge. Your hand immediately went to your bump as you looked around the stone cell. The sound of the metal shackles made you look down; your hands and ankles were chained. You instantly tried to pull on your mating bond. To call for Lorcan... But a pained cry left your mouth as you found it lifeless. No, you thought to yourself, they wouldn't have managed to kill Lorcan.

"Oh, how lovely to see you awake", the voice dripped venom, and your wild eyes looked at the queen you hoped you'd never have to see again. "What did you do?", You moved to sit up slowly. "I just wanted to see you. You have someone I want", the way she whispered made your body shiver. "What did you do to Lorcan, Maeve", you hissed, hands wrapped around your bump. The motherly instinct was on high alert. The queen smirked, "He used to be my best. You do know what an attentive lover in bed Lorcan was to me". You shook your head. You knew how she treated them all. How she played with them. She twisted her powers to make puppets out of them. Lorcan had never loved her. He had never cared for her.

"It was so hard for me to do this to him", Maeve purred. The panic swirled within you. She wouldn't; you told yourself, she wouldn't have. "I'll make sure the wound of losing him will heal", her voice pierced right through you. "No," you breathed out, "He's not dead. You're lying, bitch". The sympathetic look on her face made you sick. "No, what did you do? What did you do?", you launched forward, chains ringing as you pulled at them. "Now, now... You can't be doing all that. You're pregnant", the queen stepped forward. Her cold hand moved to touch the round swell forming. You tried to move your hands so you could claw at her face, but her magic kept you at bay. "The babe growing within you is like no other, dear", she said, slowly sweeping your tangled hair away from your face. Silent tears that rolled down your cheeks were the only indication of your real emotions that bubbled within. "I'll raise a one-of-a-kind worrier out of that, babe", her nails dug into your face, "You took Lorcan away from me; now your debts will be paid." You tried to scream, but she seized your consciousness, sending you into the dark, oblivious.

Every moment that passed was a moment too long for Lorcan. A heartbeat was wasted. He still didn't know if you were alive. He hoped for it. You had to. Rowan had explained the power that Maeve had when it came to twisting bonds between mates. Maeve. To think that his beautiful, sweet, pregnant wife was in the hands of that sadist. Lorcan knew that you could stand your ground, but he knew that Maeve would not hold back.

He let Gavriel and Rowan plot the plan. His brain was everywhere at the moment. Lorcan clutched the baby blanket you had knitted in his hand. He had been holding onto it for the past two weeks. Only managing to slip into restless sleep if the scent of you was close. "Do you agree, Lorcan?", Gavriel's voice made Lorcan stiffen. But the lion knew that he wasn't listening. "Let us handle Maeve. I know that you want to kill her", Gavriel's voice was calm, but Lorcan let out a bitter laugh, "Want? Want doesn't even come close to it". The lion nodded. "I know, we know, but it's best if you find Y/N in the castle and get the hell away from it". As sweet as revenge tasted, Lorcan knew that this plan was the only one. Because even he didn't trust himself to not get carried away.

You had no way to tell how many days had passed. You had tried to refuse all food and water, but your baby needed it. And as much as you had no will to carry on, the little kicks and squirms within you were the only things making you feel anything other than the void that painted your chest black. You were curled into a ball at the furthest corner of the cell. Holding onto your bump as you hummed slightly.

You hoped the rest of the family would come looking for you. You hoped that this void was just one of many twisted things that Maeve loved. But at this moment, you knew that it was only you. Only you could protect your unborn child from that sadist. She had told you all about it. How the baby would be hers. How she would take it under her wing and raise it as if it was her baby. You gritted your teeth.

The cell door cracked open. You stilled, gripping the metal plate you had filed against the stones, turning it into a somewhat makeshift weapon. You doubted it would be enough to kill her. But you were prepared to try anything by now. You counted the steps, bracing yourself for the blow.

Your hit, however, was met by a strong grip. You were ready to swing one more time as the warmth flooded your heart. "Y/N", you had never loved the sound of your name more than now. Your eyes met the familiar dark orbs. A breath hitched in your throat. Lorcan was standing right in front of you. Your mate was standing right in front of you. You couldn't help but let out a cry.

Lorcan's strong arms wrapped around you instantly. He wasn't expecting to find you here. He was about to turn around when his ears caught on to that familiar heartbeat. Your baby's heartbeat. Steady and strong. And so he leaped down the stairs into the dungeon. Only to find you in this damp, forgotten place.

"Look at me, does anything hurt?", his voice was sharp and calculated. Lorcan looked over your face at the scab on your cheek, yet you shook your head. "She told me...", you muttered. "Listen to me. Is the baby okay? You're feeling okay?", he was close to shaking; you had been dead in his mind for weeks now. He had mentally prepared to find your lifeless body. "Lorcan...", you choked out, sinking into his arms.

"I've got you, dove. I'll take you home. I will never let anyone take you or our baby away from me", he wasn't sure at this point if he was saying this to soothe you or himself more. You barely nodded as Lorcan leaned to scoop you up into his arms. You heard him mutter something else, something about staying awake, but your body was too tired. Your mind was too fried from all the lies that Maeve had told you. So you let yourself drift away.

The crackling sound of the fire woke you up. The room was dim, but in a comfortable way. It was warm, and it smelled of freshly made food. You blinked a couple of times. Your gaze followed the pressure on your thigh. A messy set of black hair met you. Lorcan was holding your hand, his head resting on your thigh as he slept, his free palm resting on your round stomach. You doubted the position was comfortable, and his shoulders, without doubt, would kill him once he woke up.

You reached down to brush his hair away from his face. You smothered the lively bond in your chest. Soaking in the warmth of it. "You have no idea how nice it is to feel you through the bond", Lorcan's voice was groggy, his eyes still closed. You gave him a sad smile, "I'm afraid I do... She told me that she killed you", you muttered. Lorcan rose slowly. His face looked grim. There was a sign of anger still there.

"I'm going to take my time when I...", Lorcan growled but you quickly clasped his hand, "Lorcan... promise me you won't go after her alone", you pleaded. You could tell that he wanted to argue back but his shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh. "How are feeling? The healer looked you over but... You can...", he broke out into yet another rant, and you reached out to him, cupping his cheek, "I'm okay, we're okay. Happy to have daddy back with us", you muttered, feeling your eyes filling up with tears.

Lorcan leaned into your touch before he clasped your hand in his, kissing it a couple of times. "I would raise armies for you and fight gods if I had to", he said, and you knew he meant all of it as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours. "And I will always find you, both of you. I'll look till my very last breath", Lorcan's voice was barely a whisper as tears rolled down his cheeks. "I know, my love, I'd fight for our family with bare hands if I had to", you muttered, leaning into your mate so you could kiss him lovingly.

#lorcan imagine #lorcan x reader #lorcan x you #lorcan tog imagine #lorcan tog x reader #lorcan salvaterre imagine #lorcan salvaterre x reader #lorcan salvaterre #tog imagine #tog x you #tog x reader #the cadre imagine #the cadre x reader #rowan whitethorn #fenrys moonbeam #gavriel

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shadowdaddies · 6 months

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Hiiiii may please write rowaelin x reader where she gets injured and they get like rlly possessive over her

we know how protective Mr. "you're sleeping in my bed until you're better" is when you're hurt 😏 lmao love this

Protective Instincts

Rowaelin x Reader

Warnings: mention of battle/injury

Head pounding, you groaned in pain, groggily blinking awake as you took in your surroundings. A warm fire roared from a hearth across the room, situated next to the chairs and couch that made up the seating area - Aelin asleep in one of the chairs, curled in an awkward position with her legs swung over the armrest so that she was facing you.

You registered that you were in a guest room of the Lochans’ castle, where you’d been staying during your meetings with Aedion, Lorcan, and Elide over barrier precautions. Memories flashed in your mind as you fell back weakly against the pillows - you recalled the sudden attack, raiders from the Frozen Wastes who had somehow crossed the mountains in an attempt to overtake Perranth.

Recalling the injury in your side from one of the raiders, you instinctively reached for the wounded area only to release another loud groan at the pain. In the corner of your vision, Aelin stirred, eyes widening as the two of you made eye contact. “You’re awake,” she cried, voice choking on the words. You smiled softly at her, your own voice scratching as you attempted to speak to her.

Aelin leapt from her chair as you sputtered out a cough, bringing a glass of water from the nightstand to your lips. Putting the glass back down, she stroked your hair softly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?” You took a deep breath, still coming back to your senses. “I’m in pain, but-“

You were interrupted by Rowan opening the door, a tray with two plates of food in his hand as he noticed your wakened state, tension visibly dissipating from his shoulders as he did so. “Hi,” you whispered at him with a small smile. Rowan sat down the tray next to your water, rushing over to take your head in his hands, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. He maintained that stoic expression he usually did, but a torrent of emotions swam in his eyes, filled with concern.

Aelin reached up to take your hand in hers. “You were saying?” Refocusing your attention to her, you nodded. “I’m in some pain, but it’s manageable. I’m just trying to remember what happened.” A muscle ticked in Rowan’s jaw. Barely keeping a leash on his anger, he directed the question at you, “you don’t remember how you rushed into battle? How you jumped in front of a blade meant for another soldier?”

A flurry of guilt, grief, and other emotions overcame you as your lip wobbled under Rowan’s intense gaze. Aelin held up a hand, silencing him before he could lecture you further. “You were the kind, brave person that we know and love.” She glanced at Rowan pointedly before continuing, “we’ve been very worried. You were mostly unconscious for nearly a week.” Your eyes widened, jaw slack as you registered her words. A week? You must have been close to death’s door for an injury to take you out for so long.

You held back tears, looking at Aelin and then Rowan. “I’m sorry, I know that must have been scary for the two of you,” you whispered. Rowan’s eyes softened then, and he crouched down beside where you laid as he took your hand, pressing a kiss to it. “You have nothing to apologize for, love. Here, try to eat some of this food while it’s warm.”

He turned, picking up the tray as Aelin crawled into bed beside you, taking a plate for herself as Rowan sat on the other side of you, helping you eat the warm soup and bread. A knock on the door sounded before Aedion entered, “I just wanted to check and see how you’re do-“

Rowan cut him off with a growl, Aelin flashing her canines as their protective instincts took over. Aedion held up his hands in a placating position, giving you a playful smile as he retreated out of the room. “I’m glad you’re okay. They’ve been like this all week,” he teased with an eye roll as Rowan snarled once more in warning.

The door clicked shut, the three of you alone once more as Aelin finished her food, snuggling into your side as you put an arm around her and leaned your head on Rowan, eyes drooping once more now that you were sated with food. “Uh huh,” Rowan tsked, helping you sit up. “No falling asleep yet. You’ve been asleep for days, and need a proper bath. I’ll be back for you in a moment.”

You scoffed softly under your breath, turning to Aelin as he left the room. She smirked at you, flicking your nose. “He is right, you know. You do stink.” Leaning in to press a kiss below your ear, Aelin murmured against your neck, “but I’ll help you clean up.”

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rowaelinsdaughter · 3 months

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can i pla request rowaelin x reader where reader doesn’t know they’re mates and feel guilty for being attracted to both of them meanwhile rowaelin are internally begging for her to notice the bond

GUILTY

a/n;;; i got a little carried away but i loved writing this :")

WARNINGS;; guilty feelings, long chapter

she shouldn’t be feeling this. she should have done something earlier. but there was no coming back… she was in love with the queen and king of terrasen, and she felt guilty.

everything started with aelin. she entered one day to her bookstore looking for some books for her to read and to send some of them to her friend, dorian havilliard, the king of adarlan. she was going to bow when aelin told her not to, she had enough of it in the castle, she said.

she asked her what books she was looking for. romance with some spice scenes she said. and while she entered the storehouse, aelin was cleaning the sweat in her hands. she gave her the books and told her to come back if she wanted anything more. of course.

and she came back twice a week, sometimes she ordered some books, sometimes she didn’t buy anything… but she had the feeling that the queen of terrasen was in her bookstore for another reason. and one day she came with the king of terrasen. he was beautiful, they both were. you had been feeling something for aelin. her attention towards her, how she would always come to her bookstore when she knew for sure there were better bookstores in orynth.

6 months passed, and she loved them. both of them. in the past few months, they had taken her out on dates, she had read with aelin in her castle room, rowan had helped her with the store… they had done things they shouldn’t have done, but they did, and now she was in love with the queen and king.

she was reading with aelin in her room, like so many days. they had decided to read the same book together and then comment on it. as they finished the last page, aelin said. “i don’t have words to describe it”

“me neither” she looked to aelin and found her eyes on her mouth. she pressed them together but aelin was still looking at them, she was going to say something when aelin kissed her. her tongue entered her mouth, she tasted like lemon verbena and kissing her was like being in heaven. but she was married to rowan, she was a married female, she had a mate. she pulled apart.

they were breathing fast, but she managed to speak “i can’t, i can’t” and she left, running to her home, leaving aelin in the room with tears rolling down her face.

a month passed and she didn’t hear of them or saw them, as if they had already forgotten about her. but it was easier this way. it’s better this way.

it’s better this way.

but she wasn’t better.

she missed them.

she missed spending the afternoon reading with aelin.

she missed going to walk with rowan.

she missed laughing with aelin and how rowan’s eyes would light up.

she missed them like she hasn’t missed anyone.

she had felt it the day aelin kissed her, had felt it when rowan would take her hand, a tug in her heart and a voice in her head. go. it would say. go, where?. go, just go. and it was her mother’s voice, who had told her to go every time she was with them. and know she knew what she meant. go with them. go where you feel safe. go where you are loved. go with your mates.

mates.

she was their mate.

and she felt guilty for it. for loving them, for being their mate. and she cried. cried for a love that was impossible.

she had fallen asleep, her eyes red, and her mouth dry. but an incessant knocking on her door, had awakened her. she looked at the wall-clock. 2 am. barefoot, she made her way to the front door, and when she opened it… aelin was there.

her blue and golden eyes were red from crying, bags under them, and her usually shiny hair was dull, without life. she knew rowan was near, keeping an eye on the street.

“i need to talk to you” aelin whispered.

should she let her enter? do it.

so she did.

she led aelin to the couch, as she sat down, she watched as aelin started to pace. “i know that you may not want to see me or rowan, and i know i should have come the day you left, but… i didn’t know what to say or how to explain what we have, that you are our mate, and” a breathy laugh “gods, this month apart have been like being in hell, because that is what our lives feel without you. hell. we’ve been trying to tell you for months, but we were scared you would run away the moment you knew it.” she walked to her and she watched as aelin kneeled before her, taking her hands. and the tears she thought were dry, started to flow again like a waterfall.

“but i want you to know that i love you. rowan loves you. we love you. because you are the light in our nights. you are the piece we were missing. so please, let us be yours.”

she kneeled before aelin. moving her hands away from her, she took her face with her hands, cleaning the tears with her thumbs. “i love you aelin, and i love rowan. i love both of you” aelin pressed her forehead with her’s, and a cold wind opened the window, and they watch as a hawk entered the room, and then turned into rowan. he walked to them and kneeling, he embraced both of them. he had heard everything.

she felt the bond sing with happiness as she melted into her mates.

well done, darling… i love you. i will always love you.

EPILOGUE

she heard a little voice talk to her. but she was dreaming and that voice… she knew that voice.

“hi there baby”

evalyn.

she wasn’t dreaming then.

she blinked a few times, getting used to the sunlight that entered the bedroom. she watched down and she saw her. her silver hair was knotted, but her green eyes were bright as she talked to her belly.

“good morning darling” she said to the little girl.

“good morning mommy” she called her mommy, while she called aelin mama. she looked again at her belly. “you think she can hear me?”

she let a low laugh. “of course she can” she said, stroking her hair. evalin climbed higher until her head was resting on her breast, and she hugged the little girl.

aelin and rowan watched her two girls.

we did it rowan.

we did it, fireheart.

tagging;; @throneofsapphics @danikamariewrites @hellwantfuckme @shadowdaddies

#sjm books #sarah j maas #fanfic #throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aelin x f!reader #aelin x you #aelin x reader #rowan x you #rowan x reader #rowaelin x reader #rowaelin x you #tog fluff #tog x reader #tog fic

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throneofsapphics · 9 months

Text

piercings

poly!Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: “You can thank me, by quitting doing stupid things when you’re drunk.”

I hummed. “No promises.”

Warnings: nudity, piercings, blood, slight possessive behavior, drinking, a tiny bit of fluff.

Word Count: ~1.3k

I came home drunk, stumbling into my room, laughing to myself. I’d drank enough alcohol that I didn’t feel the pain of my recently pierced nipples brushing against my dress. I had to take a few breaths after opening the door, pressing my hand against the frame to steady myself.

I stumbled into my bathroom, leaning over the sink to splash cold water on my face. I stripped away my dress, tossing it into the basket without a second thought, my underwear following. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, nipples swollen and slightly bloodied around the piercing. “Clean that in the morning,” I mumbled to myself, thinking clearly enough to write a note, placing it under a paperweight.

Cln piercing in mrninh. I examined my work. Good enough, I might not remember it anyways. I stumbled into bed, still naked and probably reeking. I’d have to get new sheets in the morning, but right now taking a bath alone would be risky - considering how intoxicated I am. I slipped under the silky sheets, thanking whatever Gods might still be around for Aelin’s taste in luxury.

I woke up the next morning to a sharp pain on my breasts and my eyes shot open. Small droplets of blood dotted the white sheet barely covering me. I yanked it back. Two bars, right through both of my nipples. Dear Gods, how drunk was I?

I groaned, pulling myself out of bed and grabbing a nightgown, wincing as I pulled it around myself.

A note stood out on my desk, crumpled parchment shoved under a paper weight with a pen messily discarded next to it.

Cln piercing in mrninh.

That explains just how drunk I was. I winced as they pushed against the fabric again, and loosened the strip of fabric tying my robe together. Could I get away with walking around the castle naked? That might be a stretch, and might result in someone’s murder.

When Rowan and Aelin found out about this … pulling them out would be futile, they’d notice the small wounds left behind anyways. At least I remember going to a professional piercer, getting them done with a friend. I discarded the note, and went to clean them as best as I could, bending awkwardly over the sink, hissing as I dabbed a cloth against them. If these got infected I’d never hear the end of it. I likely won’t hear the end of it now. I splashed water on my face and dressed, foregoing the band and choosing a loose top, taking a few deep breaths before resigning myself to my fate, and heading for the dining hall.

We kept separate rooms for this exact purpose - my stumbling into the castle at ungodly hours, often when both of them needed to be up early. Plus, I did enjoy having my own space sometimes.

Aelin noticed something was off as soon as Y/n walked in. She knows she went out last night .. probably hungover as hell. She slid her a cup of tea with a small smile, one she returned gratefully but looked a bit nervous.

“What did you do?” Rowan asked gruffly, setting down the papers he’d been looking out.

“Go out.” She rolled her eyes, “you already knew that.”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t question her further, turning back to the papers.

…

Later that night, she figured out exactly what she did. Y/n turned away as she changed, hiding her body from view and throwing a silky blue nightgown over. As she turned back, the moonlight hit her perfectly, outlining her breasts with …

“What are those?” She carefully kept her voice even.

“What?” Y/n said defensively, wrapping her arms around her chest.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Aelin stalked towards her with predatory intent, pulling her arms away. Y/n hissed as she flicked one nipple, flinching back from her. Aelin’s eyebrows raised, “and when did that happen?”

“When did what happen?” Rowan opened the door, spotting the two of them.

“Nothing.” Y/n said through gritted teeth, keeping eyes firmly fixed on Aelin, pleading. Aelin just grinned like the cat who caught the canary, before turning to Rowan.

“Her nipples are pierced.”

He stalked over, pushing Aelin slightly out of the way to look. “Who did those?” His voice grew dangerously low. Sounding as pissed as Aelin felt. Y/n, likely drunk off her ass, getting a piercing where someone else saw her half naked. Saw her mate naked.

“A piercer.” Y/n snapped, looking out towards the window, avoiding both of them. She yelped as Rowan’s hands grabbed the nightgown, ripping it off of her. “I liked that one.” She protested, but he stared at the small piercings cutting through her rosy pink nipples, and trailed a finger around them, ignoring her wince.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He seethed.

“I was thinking I wanted to do something fun. With a friend.”

“Letting someone else see you half naked is ‘fun’?” Rowan tilted his head, the question a challenge.

“That’s not what I said.” Y/n snapped back.

“If you wanted them badly enough, I would’ve done them.” He countered, “Not some random person.”

“And have you given one before?”

His eyebrows raised. “I’m over 300 years old.”

“So? You grabbed some ice and a needle, and stuck it through someone's ear, that doesn’t make you an expert.” He snarled at her, and she kept speaking before he could reply. “I like them,” and wrapped her arms around her chest, wincing as they hit the small wounds.

“You let someone else touch you.” Rowan kept his voice mild, despite the anger rolling from him in waves.

“They were professional,” She rolled her eyes, turning to head to the bathroom. Copper, Aelin scented, and intercepted her before she could go far, grabbing her upper arm so Y/n would face her. She frowned, looking down at her.

“That’s not normally how you react when you see me naked.” Y/n hissed.

“They’re bleeding.” Aelin muttered, before dragging her off to the bathroom to clean them.

“They are pretty,” Aelin reluctantly admitted as she gently dabbed a cloth against them.

“Maybe you should get matching ones.” I whispered quietly, low enough Rowan wouldn’t hear. Aelin’s eyes gleamed.

“So he can be pissed at both of us?”

“I’ll do them. Nobody needs to see their Queen half naked.”

“Have you given someone a piercing before?”

“Multiple times.” I winked, “but never nipples.” I frowned. Aelin snorted.

“I love you, but I’m not letting you near me with a needle.” I huffed in fake annoyance, and she rolled her eyes before kissing my cheek and pushing me back into the room.

Rowan’s eyes devoured me as we walked back out, piercings and all. I pointedly ignored him, picking up the torn cloth and throwing it into a spare basket. Maybe I could salvage it another day. I was sorting through, looking for something else to sleep in so I wouldn’t ruin the sheets, when he gently gripped my shoulder, a small tin in hand. He didn’t say anything but opened it and carefully rubbed a salve on the surrounding area. A bit of relief came through, and I sighed in content.

“Only because I don’t want them to get infected.” He grunted, reaching over me and grabbing a night gown before motioning for me to lift my arms, and he tugged it down my body, lifting it so it wouldn’t drag against the bars.

“Thank you,” I said softly, pressing up on my toes to kiss his cheek.

“You can thank me, by quitting doing stupid things when you’re drunk.”

I hummed. “No promises.”

He rolled his eyes, but tugged me back towards the bed. Dropping the tin off on a small table.

#rowaelin x reader #rowaelin x y/n #rowan whitethorn x y/n #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin x y/n #aelin x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #throne of glass fic #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass #there's fluff if you squint #and a bit of angst #no beta we die like men #poly!Rowaelin

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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

Text

rowaelin // 5.4k words // masterlist

If there was anything that Aelin loved in the world, it was sweets. Evidently it was so profound that Rowan had already picked up on it in the few weeks they had been talking. From late morning into the early hours of the afternoon, he’d taken her around downtown Varese and showed her all of his favorite spots.

Just like he knew her affinity for all things sugar related, Aelin knew that he didn’t like to indulge in heaven on earth. When he led her into four different bakeries and sweet shops it was the best kind of surprise. He may not eat them himself, but he had clearly thought about her sweet tooth when mentally mapping out their day together.

By the time he drove her back to her apartment, not only did she have bags full of decorations to add to her new home, but several boxes of various sizes filled with everything from cake slices to truffles. There was a specialty candy shop where she had bought three pounds of candy for her desk at work, all of them a rainbow of colors and flavors wrapped in crystal clear paper. The boxes of chocolates would be placed into her fridge to avoid any melting. She would pick through those one by one and add her absolute favorites to a note in her phone for future purchases.

Saying goodbye was bittersweet, the way the dark chocolate truffles had been as they melted to nothing in her mouth. Rowan had to be awake early the next day and she had a thick file folder she needed to sift through to finish finalizing a presentation. Despite how badly neither of them wanted it to be over, the short window of time they had was closing.

While they both hoped to reunite the following weekend there was a solid chance of it not happening. Rowan had to go out of town Friday night and wouldn’t be back until Sunday morning. He offered to make the drive for the afternoon anyway, but it felt silly. With travel came exhaustion, and even though Aelin had no qualms about staying curled up on a couch with him, it just didn’t make sense.

Still, they hoped, and spent a little too-long leaning against her apartment building and sharing kisses between Rowan saying, “I should go.”

“So go then,” she whispered back against his lips, her own parting to tug on his bottom lip.

“You’re going to kill me if you keep doing that, love.” When he called her that, it did anything but make her want to stop. It sent embers sparking through her blood, flames licking up her thighs and between her legs. The feel of his hands against the sensitive skin of her neck, fingertips dancing over her jaw and sliding into her hair had her feeling like a teenager all over again.

“What if you came upstairs just for a few minutes?” There was no harm in that, right? He could help her carry her things upstairs then leave. Probably.

“I think we both know that minutes would very quickly turn into hours, and hours would turn into us both falling asleep in your bed.” His words said one thing: that they shouldn’t. The husky, rough tone of his voice, however… That was saying something else.

“I’m not tired,” she murmured, allowing his fingers to angle her head ever so slightly. Rowan’s lips dragged hot kisses along her jaw and neck, pausing to nip just over her pulse point. Involuntarily, she dropped the bag of sweets she held in her right hand and yanked him closer by the pocket of his jeans. The evidence of his wanting was pressed against her stomach and she moaned. Devilish lips tipped into a grin against her collarbone at the sound. Why did everything he did have to feel so fucking good?

“You would be by the time I was finished with you. I would have you exhausted past the point of being able to say anything but my name.”

“Who the fuck ever told you that you weren’t good at talking to women?” It came out more breathless than she intended it to, and he chuckled darkly against her neck as he made a path with his lips right back to hers. One more searing kiss and he finally pulled away, thumbs making circles over the line of her jaw. A whimper slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it and Rowan kissed her again. Like he couldn’t help it. Like he wanted to do anything but leave.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised with one last peck to the corner of her mouth. It took every ounce of self restraint to let him pull away, taking his body heat with him. Despite the balmy air she felt cold.

Hoping to the gods that none of her chocolates had received too much damage from their short fall to the concrete, Aelin gathered the bags and watched as Rowan got into his car. A single dimple popped in his left cheek as he threw her a final grin over his shoulder.

He might have said she would kill him, but it was going to be the opposite. She just knew it.

~*~

“That’s the worst news,” Aelin grumbled, face morphing into a frown on his phone screen. Her voice filtered through the ear buds he wore while walking toward one of the SUV’s that would charter him and his teammates to the stadium. This weekend he played the Devils in the Wastes.

“I’m not thrilled about it either.” And he wasn’t. They were going on another two week stretch of not being able to see each other, and no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t make this weekend work.

“You really don’t want me to drive down there?” It had been an on-and-off topic of discussion the last few days. Both of them heavily considered it. When it came down to it, it just didn’t make sense. If she did, his flight didn’t get in until Sunday evening. Rowan knew he would be wiped out from the match tonight, and she would be driving two hours to just sleep beside him. Monday morning she had to be at work at 9:30 at the latest, and it just wasn’t worth it to him.

Not that she wasn’t worth it– she was. The cost of those several hours of drive time paired with how tired she would be the next morning because of the commute? That was the part that he couldn’t justify. Once her physical health came into play, he was out. It would be another long week without seeing her, but he would suffer through it if it meant she was well rested and could function normally at work.

“Of course I want you to, love,” he told her, voice dropping in volume to avoid any of his friends from overhearing. He would never hear the end of it if they did, especially if they got wind of how desperately he wanted to kiss her frown into a smile. It was impossible to do that through a facetime call, but the desire still crested in his chest. Since when was Rowan Whitethorn such a ball of mush? “But you need to rest.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Besides, the two times we’ve slept together has been some of the best sleep I’ve ever had.” She sunk lower into her pillows, fighting back a yawn. There was a five hour time difference and it was already almost midnight back in Varese.

Rowan took a moment when he got to the car to toss his bag in the back before climbing in. Fenrys slid in next to him, immediately sticking his nose into business where it didn’t belong.

“Is that her?” Fen’s voice must have been picked up easily by the microphone because Aelin’s eyebrows lifted in curiosity. One look in the pup’s direction had him retreating out of Rowan’s bubble with hands up defensively.

“Tell whoever that was I said hello,” she crooned, knowing by the look on Rowan’s face that he definitely wouldn’t be delivering that message. Another smile broke across her face. Gods above, she was beautiful.

“Absolutely not. He’ll never leave me alone.”

“Is she talking to me?” Fenrys leaned over again, the top of his golden curls entering the frame of the phone, nearly blocking out Rowan’s entire face. “How the hell did Rowan manage to get a woman as pretty as you? I’m curious.”

Fenrys wasn’t entirely wrong. How he had someone so blindingly beautiful to call at the end of the day was beyond him. All golden light, soft curves, and sharp wit, she was exactly the kind of woman he’d imagined himself being with. Sometimes he felt out of his mind insane when he thought about how quickly his feelings were growing for her. Like he was in the middle of the ocean, no life raft in sight. But he would gladly drown in it, in her.

Aelin’s laughter pulled him from his thoughts. Fenrys retreated out of frame when Rowan pinched his side sharply, the golden haired man hissing while swatting at Rowan’s hand. The girl that consumed his every thought was still smiling when he scooted over until he was flush against the door. Rowan tilted his phone screen so she could only see his face. “He’s a lot.”

“Is that your assistant couch?”

“He– yeah. Yeah he’s my assistant.” Next to him, Fen snorted and shook his head but mercifully said nothing. Great. Now he had to deal with that can of worms.

“I’ll let you go. Drive safe, text me all about the win, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” The win of his high school students. Fighting off a wince, Rowan promised he would before hanging up and stuffing his phone into the pockets of his sweats. The team logo burned against his thigh for the first time in his life. It wasn’t a big deal, doubted she would even care, but the longer he kept the secret the worse it would be when he finally came clean.

“Your assistant couch, aye? She still thinks you coach a high school team?”

“I don’t want to hear it, Fenrys,” Rowan warned, voice low and promising pain if he pushed too hard.

“You need to tell her. If you’re not worried–”

“I’m not worried and I don’t want to talk about it.” There was a finality to his tone that prompted Fenrys to nope right on out of that conversation.

Truthfully, the only person he felt like he could talk it through with was Lorcan. But the towering brute in question was being so cagey about Aelin’s intentions that it wasn’t exactly on the table at the moment. Rowan understood his hesitancy, but they’d barely spoken of the sport. He knew she didn’t know who he was. That she wasn’t trying to wring money out of him the way…

Rowan shook his head, locking those thoughts in an iron cage in the back of his mind. He would not go there. Not with her.

~*~

“How are things going?” Evalin Ashryver Galathynius leaned toward the camera as though she were buckling up to hear all sorts of tea spilled. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a low bun, not a single strand out of place. Her white t-shirt was plain, but Aelin was certain a blazer of some sort was hanging in the office somewhere.

“Really well, I think. The team is amazing so far, I haven’t had any issues. Nobody is pushing deadlines I set or anything like that.” Aelin picked through the dish on her desk, selecting a vibrant green candy that she quickly popped into her mouth. Evalin waited for the plastic paper to stop crinkling before she answered.

“I didn’t have a single doubt about that. I meant your work life balance. You have a tendency to struggle with it. You always have.” Something about the way her mother spoke had Aelin narrowing her eyes. Evalin’s lips twitched in effort to hide a smile, her fingers fiddling with the pearls that hung from her throat.

“You talked to Aedion, didn’t you,” Aelin asked flatly, lips in a firm line to hide a smile of her own. Vultures, the lot of them. Always so eager to share any shred of gossip where her love life was concerned.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t hearing it from you!”

“I didn’t even tell him about it!” Aelin cried, throwing her hands in the air as she slumped back into her chair. Still, she grinned. “Lysandra swore she would still keep my secrets after they started dating, but I clearly can’t trust her anymore.”

“Nonsense,” Evalin’s bejeweled hand swiped through the air in dismissal. “Tell me about this young man that you met.”

A heavy sigh loosed from Aelin’s chest as she turned the candy over in her mouth, the flavor unusual while she thought about Rowan. Where did she even begin? There truly wasn’t even much to report on, and she said as much. “He works a lot, coaches a high school soccer team— oh don’t look at me like that.”

“You secretly love the sport, admit it.” Aelin’s eyes rolled.

“I loved watching Aedion play, but since he’s out and I have no obligations—”

“Outside of being the daughter and granddaughter to two men that own two different teams,” Evalin interjected, and Aelin winced. Both of her eyes squeezed shut as she covered her face with her hands, her mother’s gasp enough to have her peeking through her fingers.

“What the hell does he think your last name is?” There were few instances where Evalin cursed, and that this had been deemed appropriate told her it was a bit more major than she had been chalking it up to.

“He… doesn’t? It hasn’t come up.” It really hadn’t. She didn’t know his last name, either. Aelin would get around to it. How often had it been an issue before? She frowned, knowing the answer without having to say it. Over and over men had sought her out as a way to get their way in with her father, hopeful for a lifelong career. Besides, how do you slide that into a normal conversation anyway? By the way my family is worth billions and I myself am worth millions, please don’t date me for my money.

“You know I’ve had too many instances of people weaseling their way in to get to Dad, or Papa, or our money. Not that I think Rowan would, because I don’t. But it wasn’t a first date conversation, and the last few times we’ve been together I genuinely haven’t thought about it.” It was the truth. Aelin didn’t feel like the daughter of a family with more numbers attached to the bank account than she cared to count. She was just, blissfully, Aelin. The same girl she was on holidays, curled up on the couch under blankets with her family around. No public image, staggering bank account. Just her.

“Does he know you founded and run Fireheart?” Aelin peeled her lips back from her teeth in a silly smile that was more of a grimace. Even on the computer camera, she could make out the faint tinge of green that stained her lips. “Gods above, Aelin.”

“He thinks I teach dance and piano at local studios.” Her words were mumbled and muffled by the hand she’d placed over her mouth. “Which isn’t a lie! I do teach dance and piano. Just not… currently while opening the new office.”

When she said it out loud, it was so, so, so much worse. The blossoming relationship was already built on a lie. It wasn’t one that really affected anything, but it was still a lie. Even if it was just by omission.

Evalin opened her mouth to speak, but Aelin opened hers first and let the candy fall from her tongue onto her desk. Instead of whatever she had been about to say, her mom snorted despite her brows knitting together with worry.

“What?” Aelin asked, using a tissue to toss the candy into the bin beside her.

“You look a little pale, my love. Are you feeling okay?”

“It’s probably the lighting in here,” she gestured toward the ceiling her mother couldn’t see. The sun had set a while ago, leaving the fluorescent lights to cast an unflattering light over her features through the camera. A mental note was made to do something about light fixtures in here before saying, “I should go. I have a few things to finish up before I head home.”

“I want to hear more about this man, Aelin. I mean it.”

“I’ll tell you everything as soon as there’s a development,” she swore, grabbing her water bottle to wash away the odd taste the candy left in her mouth.

As soon as their goodbyes were said and the call was ended, Aelin fished through the bowl, plucked out every green piece within, and dumped them all in the trash.

~*~

An intensely severe frown pulled her lips down as she sighed and shoved the bowl of pasta she made as far from her as she could manage. Something had smelled just a little wrong while she was cooking, but she managed to wave it off as the scents of dinner mingled with the air fresheners she had plugged into the wall. It appeared that a fridge clean out was in order because the pasta just tasted bad. Aelin wasn’t a chef by any means, but typically the meals she made were better than this. A sour and metallic taste lingered in her mouth despite her desperate attempts to wash it away with water, soda– anything.

She hadn’t felt well all day. In fact, the golden blonde had appeared peaky enough that several of her staff members inquired about how she was feeling. Even though she didn’t want to, Aelin had ended up leaving for the day a mere three hours after arriving in the office, barely making it through a meeting with her entire staff. When she got home she parked herself on the couch after making a simple pasta with garlic and basil which clearly hadn’t worked out. Neither had dinner the night before — something about the chinese take-out made her violently gag and spit it back into the container. It was now in the trash, a graveyard for everything she’d tried to consume in the last twenty-four hours.

It was easy to decide against eating— she wasn’t really hungry. More than anything she was trying to eat because she needed to. Breakfast was commonly skipped and normally by noon her stomach was rioting to be filled. Now, however, she found herself sinking into the couch and tugging a blanket over her body for warmth. All she wanted to do was sleep.

Less than five minutes later, a storm of nausea, fatigue, and dizziness overwhelmed her. Aelin’s mouth began to water, a sign that soon bile would be rising up the back of her throat. She stumbled through her apartment, knees slamming onto the tile of her bathroom floor just in time for her to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Tears heated her eyes, pricking at the corners as she hurled and hurled until there was nothing left.

As gross as it felt she rested her forehead against the edge of the seat, willing her stomach and breathing to calm. Chest still heaving in gags that produced nothing, she took several deep breaths through her nose and out through her mouth. It would help in the long run, surely, but the smell of toilet water clung to her nose so much that she could nearly taste it. Drool pooled in her mouth and she quickly spit into the porcelain bowl, wiping the remnants from her mouth with the collar of her shirt.

Hours seemed to pass before being able to muster the energy to rise on shaky limbs and head back toward her room. There were no thoughts but to slide between her sheets and pull the duvet over her head, the hope that sleep would cure all her problems.

The nap lasted for so long that when she woke, the sky was darkening. Shades of pink and orange and blue peered between clouds as the sun began to disappear below the horizon. Somehow she had managed to sleep the entire day without waking a single time.

Aelin patted around the bed in search of her phone, remembering with a low groan that it was still in the living room. Though she didn’t want to move, didn’t want to provoke her weak stomach, she found it in herself to retrieve a bottle of water and her cell before returning to her bed. Steady and full deep breaths kept her from feeling she might be sick again as she typed out a message to Rowan, discarding her phone onto the pillow beside her as she turned on the tv for something to watch.

Aelin didn’t even make it through the first episode before her body was lulled back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~*~

Hot water poured over his head, snakes down his body in rivets. Rowan would have been content to stand in the shower for the next few hours if it would ease the aches he felt all over his body.

Lucky for him, tonight he would take a few extra minutes because they had played Varese tonight and the drive to Aelin’s apartment would be fifteen minutes instead of two hours. Though he had driven down with the team on a charter bus, Rowan would take an Uber to her apartment. Fenrys was going to drive down tomorrow. Sunday afternoon they would return to Doranelle for another week of grueling practice.

Rowan shut off the water and wrung his hair out before wrapping a towel around his waist and heading to his locker. All around him his teammates shouted back and forth about the game, a few clapping him on his back when he passed. He had played particularly well tonight, leaving his soul out on the field like he did every week. His legs were sore enough to prove it.

By the time he dressed, bid farewell to everyone, and made his way outside the Uber was waiting. In the safety of the backseat of the car he opened his phone to read the text he’d missed from Aelin during the game.

I think I food poisoned myself. Entirely bed ridden. Save yourself and don’t come over tonight. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

She followed it up with a heart emoji as if that would make him worry less. Like hell he wasn’t going to go make sure she was okay when he was so close. Even if he had been in Doranelle, or getting off an airplane, he would have driven to make sure she had everything she needed.

Because of the late hour, nearly eleven at night, traffic was scarce and it was a short trip to her apartment. The contents of his overnight bag hit him in the shoulder repeatedly as he took the steps two at a time. It was irrational to be so worried when she said it was just food poisoning, but he knew of people that had made trips to the hospital over such a thing. Dehydration was a very strong risk if she wasn’t able to keep her fluids down.

It bothered him just a little bit that he had to knock on the door and potentially wake her up, but the idea of her withering away alone was worse. With a firm knock, he bit the bullet and waited.

And waited.

Rowan knocked harder, unease making his stomach turn until he heard the soft padding of feet across wood floors. Moments later the door was cracked open, a pale and exhausted Aelin peering between the space she had created. It took her a before it registered it was him, and the frown that took up her entire face quickly turned to confusion.

“Hi, baby.”

“I texted you,” she rasped, pausing to clear her throat as she opened the door all the way for him. “Did you not get it?”

“I did, and you’re out of your mind if you really thought I would go back to Doranelle without at least checking on you.” Aelin laughed softly, barely letting him get the door closed before her arms were around his waist. She nuzzled her face against his chest and took a deep breath. Rowan carefully eased his bag to the floor before gathering her up in his arms and carrying her straight back to bed. A low whine escaped her lips when he pulled away, but he promised he would be back in just a minute.

True to his word, he returned less than a minute later with a full water bottle in hand that he placed on her nightstand. Golden hair fell across her face as she sat up and took a tentative sip, then carefully lowered herself back onto the bed. Aelin was quick to snuggle up against him when he climbed in next to her. Kisses were pressed to her forehead, cheeks, nose, and a soft one to her lips while he brushed her hair out of her face.

“I’m glad you came,” she whispered, eyes already closed, her breathing evening out.

“Me, too.”

~*~

Aelin was, literally, sick and fucking tired. Though Rowan had taken amazing care of her, held her hair while she vomited the next day, and ensured she drank enough water to stay hydrated, the food poisoning seemed to linger over the course of the following week. Two days ago she had been feeling absolutely perfect and thought it was over, but the next afternoon half the office heard her throwing up.

Most of the week she’d been locked away in her office, forcing herself to make it through each work day until it was time to go home. Every night she was getting a full night's sleep– gods, she was getting more sleep than she had in years. But she was just so wholly exhausted right down to her bones that she had little energy for anything else.

By the time she managed to crawl up the stairs and fall into bed, she was almost asleep before her head even hit the pillow. Twice this week she had woken up in the same clothes she had worn the day before. It was so out of character for her, but she had been really sick, and it did seem to be sticking around. Whatever she caught, her body couldn’t shake.

It was why she was working from home, her laptop open and papers scattered around her bed. If she was contagious, she wasn’t going to expose her employees more than she already had. Not only could she not have half the office out for a week, but she cared about them too much to risk it.

On her lunch break she had just made a bowl of chicken noodle soup when her cell rang. She immediately answered, assuming it would be Rowan calling to check up on her. Multiple times a day he would call and ask a laundry list of questions. Her answers never changed between morning, afternoon, and night, but he still asked to satisfy the anxiety he had. It was sweet.

“Hey,” she chirped, determined to sound less miserable than she was.

“How are you doing, babe?” Not Rowan, but Lysandra.

“Ugh,” she groaned, leaning back onto the pillows and fiddling with the lid of her water bottle. “I’ve been sick all week. It sucks.”

“Weren’t you sick over the weekend, too?”

“Mhm. I didn’t know food poisoning lasted for so godsdamn long, but here we are.” In a living nightmare, dying a slow, slow death. Stomach muscles she didn’t know existed ached, her arms and legs felt like limp noodles. The bruises on her knees from kneeling on hard floors all week were probably permanent.

“That’s because it doesn’t,” Lysandra said, curiosity in her voice. “Are you still throwing up?”

“Not all the time, but it’s a solid fifty-fifty when I try to eat anything. The rest of the time I’m asleep because I just can’t seem to–” Perfect with the comedic timing, a gigantic yawn interrupted her– “stay awake.”

“Just curious,” the second word was drawn out, the end of it sounding like a snake. “When were you supposed to get your period?”

Aelin snorted. Hard. Even though Lysandra had posed the question as a joke more than anything else, Aelin still swiped down from the top of her screen to double check what day it was. It wasn’t a possibility– she was on birth control and they had used a condom. Yet when she saw the date, her eyes were glued to the white numbers on the screen. Her silence drew out a little too long. Lysandra said something, maybe her name, but it didn’t quite register.

“Let me call you back,” she said, throwing the blankets off her legs and scrambling out of bed. The work papers went flying, drifting slowly back to the floor. Even her laptop had been flipped over in the chaos but that didn’t matter. Not with the rising panic in her gut working its way up her throat.

She didn’t even bother to change out of her pajamas before running out of her apartment, down the stairs, and around the corner to the drugstore.

~*~

Less than half an hour later, Aelin was propping her phone up against the bathroom mirror. The toilet was out of frame, but she felt like she could deal with this whole situation better if Lysandra was with her. It was silly to be so worked up over it, but she was also late. While her period did have a tendency to give or take a few days, sometimes a week, it had never been this late. As much as she could try to chalk it up to a million different things, she wouldn’t know a moment of peace until she was throwing the negative pregnancy test in the trash.

“It’s going to be okay.” Lysandra was sitting on the couch she shared with Aedion. Thankfully he was at work and couldn’t witness the first pregnancy scare Aelin had dealt with since college.

She pulled multiple boxes of tests from the paper bag and laid them out. Through the camera, her eyes met Lysandra’s and she had to brace her arms on the counter to keep from falling over. Her legs felt like jello and the nausea was setting in. This time, though, she felt it had less to do with being sick and more to do with anxiety.

“This is ridiculous,” she mumbled, mostly to herself. “We were careful. I haven’t missed even one day of my birth control. I’m probably late because of work stress.”

“But we have to make sure.” Lysandra’s voice was soft, gentle. Though she knew they would be joking about this as soon as the tests reflected a negative result, right now her best friend was cool, calm, and collected. Everything that Aelin wasn’t.

With shaking hands she opened the first box, removing both tests from their wrappers. She moved out of frame, the porcelain cold against her skin. It was an effort to control the tremors of her fingers in order to get the little caps off, and then she was forcing all the urine out of her body and onto the wicks of those stupid pieces of plastic.

“You got more pale,” Lys noted, frowning heavily as soon as Aelin stepped back into frame.

“Yeah, well,” she mumbled in response, putting the two tests side by side on the counter. “I feel like my entire nervous system is trying to escape my body.”

“Three minutes from now we’ll be laughing this off. It’ll be a fun story to tell Rowan the next time you see him.” Despite herself, Aelin laughed softly but it was swiftly cut off when her eyes glanced down at the tests.

It hadn’t even been a full minute yet, but a response was staring up at her clear as day. She picked both of them up as ice slid through her entire body. From her head to her toes, everything was cold. Whatever blood pumped through her body had fled, soaked straight to the floor and taken her stomach with it. The shaking in her hands was bad enough that when she turned them toward the camera, it took Lys a second to be able to read it. They made eye contact again, faces mirror images of the other: wide eyes, open mouths, pale skin.

“Holy fuck.”

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @secondstartorightand @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294 @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @punkassbookjockey26 @shyvioletcat

#call it what you want #ciwyw3 #rowan whitethorn #aelin galaythynius #tog #throne of glass #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfiction #tog fic #tog fanfic #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fic #fanfiction #writing #soccer au

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leiawritesstories · 9 months

Note

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

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

Thank you!

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

500 followers celebration prompt fills

Word count: 2.2k oops

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

Enjoy!!

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

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

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

"Wh-what happened?" Aelin croaked.

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

Oh.

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She scowled. "Shut it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I remember my taxi getting hit."

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

She gasped. "I had no idea."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Stay with me, Ro?"

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

"I'd love to."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

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

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wordsafterhours · 7 months

Text

Songs About You - Chapter 15

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

*Unedited update. I couldn't wait.

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

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

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who else is here?”

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

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

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

He shouldn’t be.

Couldn’t be.

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

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

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

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

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

“Better?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just one song.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aelin, stop.”

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

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

“I don’t understand.”

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

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

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

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

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

He snorted. “Well, now I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s part of my charm.”

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

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

“You promise?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I had another idea in mind.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

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

“It’s not enough. What else?”

“What else?” he said slightly taken aback.

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

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

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

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

“You can let me braid your hair?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aelin?”

“Yeah, Con?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that better?”

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

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

“Uh huh. I just hear excuses.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, stop that!”

“You started it.”

“Don’t make me drop you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for that astute observation, Aelin.”

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

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

“Did you tell her you didn’t go?”

“Yeah, I did.”

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

“Correct.”

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

“Did you miss your plane?”

“No,” he answered flat and succinct.

“Did they ask you not to come?”

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

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

“Don’t ask me that Aelin.”

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

Her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lysssssssss.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You found my tree?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aelin, it’s beautiful.”

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

“Very fitting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Again, with the fat jokes.”

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

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

“He started it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Happy Yulemas.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Happy Yulemas, Fireheart.”

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writtenonreceipts · 1 year

Note

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

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

find my other works here

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

~6.4k words

.*.*.*.*.

Until the Bitter End of Eternity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No witty words? Fireheart?"

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

Breathe, she thought. Just breathe.

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It tasted like salt and wood and death.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

The blood on her lips never stayed dry for long.

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

Her dreams never varied.

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

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

Alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

She remembered the first time she wanted to die.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aelin.”

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

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

“We don’t have time,” he murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fenrys wasted no time in leading her through the dungeons.

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

“Almost there,” Fenrys murmured into her ear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was clean and pure and—

Run.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She ran.

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

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

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

There was a shift in the air.

It was sudden and stark on her skin. She felt as though she’d stepped into a wall of ice as a chill wrapped around her, curling into every curve and angle of her body. She knew that feeling. She had felt it on many occasions before. Back when she’d been a flickering flame on the verge of burnout and he’d been there to ground her.

Aelin gasped for air desperate for a taste of the world around her.

Rowan. Pine and snow and sweet sweet relief. Rowan. Rowan. Rowan. Aelin stumbled in her frantic run. She could smell him. He was so close she could feel him and his strength and as desperation rolled through her, Aelin found her magic slowly unfurling. It quivered within her as it slowly rolled forth.

Rowan.

Rowan

Rowan.

She kept running. Running until she heard something in the trees around her. Running until she could smell magic in the air. Running until she burst into a clearing, stumbling to her knees. All the strength she’d put forth was eaten up. Her body so tired, her mind so numb. She didn’t know if she could go any further. But she could feel him, so immersive and familiar.

Aelin.

Her name whispered through the trees, light and cool.

Aelin,

Her name rang with desperation as it shuddered among the surrounding trees.

“Aelin!”

Her name was fierce and strong coming from the one person she'd thought about most in the last few months. Aelin managed to look up as Rowan fell to the ground in front of her. Even on his knees, he was massive. His broad frame blocked out anything from view as his magic pulsed between them.

“Aelin,” he whispered. Strong arms came around her as though they could offer security or protection.

Aelin shuddered in Rowan’s grasp as she tried to pull away.

“Off. Off. Take it off.” She demanded. Her fingers scrabbled at the metal mask over her face. Blood dribbled from the corners of her mouth and pain landed through her, but she didn't care. All she cared about was getting that damned mask off.

“It’s alright, Fireheart,” Rowan murmured. “Look at me. Look at me, love.”

In her frantic scrambling she’d twisted in his grasp and was now facing him. His green eyes found hers and for the first time in so many months, Aelin could breathe.

“Rowan,” she gasped. The metal mouthpiece scraped against her tender skin. All she cared about was Rowan before her.

His hands were gentle as they ran along the seam of the mask and Aelin’s neck. He kept talking to her in a mix of the old language and common tongue. She didn’t know what he was saying—couldn’t focus on anything but his hands—but it was the soothing lilt of his voice that kept her grounded.

She didn't know how long it took but soon the metal fell free and she could feel cool air on her face and tears tracked down her face.

A sob escaped her as she slumped against Rowan. His arms tightened around her as he murmured sweet assurances in her ear.

The relief didn’t last long.

Not as a new figure emerged from the trees. Aelin didn’t have to see his face to know who it was. She could smell her own blood on the long blade in his grasp.

Aelin dug her fingers into Rowan’s arm, the hard muscle unyielding as he slowly shifted her away from Cairn.

“Two little lambs,” Cairn crooned, “all ready for the slaughter.”

…

Rowan Whitethorn was a warrior. Three hundred years of life on this earth had turned him from a simple boy in his father’s land to a fae that yearned for the hunt.

He was not afraid of it. Nor was he averse to it. He respected the way of war and the blood that would be shed.

At least until this very moment.

Aelin shuddered in his grasp as she flinched away from the sight of Cairn. Aelin who was strong and capable and the most powerful creature he’d known shuddered. Rowan felt his body tense as he stood, gently leaving Aelin kneeling on the ground.

This male had touched her, had hurt her. And he was going to regret it.

“Cairn,” Rowan growled.

Magic thrummed in his bones and sang through his blood until it was all around him. He could feel power rising up from the deepest wells of his being, the very places he swore he would never touch.

Cain on cocked his head to the side as a predatory smile stretched across his mouth. “I think I’ll enjoy killing you, Whitethorn. And when my hands are covered in your blood I’ll take your little bitch and fu—”

Rowan attacked.

He drew the sword strapped to his back and a smaller knife strapped to his side and burned. His ice magic felt hot at it wrapped around him, urging him on. In a scant few steps, he was lunging for Cairn.

The other male hadn’t been expecting this. He fell back one step but it was all Rowan needed. He went for the exposed belly, swiping with his dagger. Cairn barely dodged and retaliated by drawing a knee up. Rowan threw him back with an icy snap of wind. The force of it threw Ciarn against a tree.

A resounding crack echoed through the forest as Rowan stalked forward.

Cairn struggled against the magic that held him. Surprise was written clear on his face. The fool either hadn’t remembered what Rowan was capable of or thought his pathetic alliance with Maeve would somehow save him.

Rowan would relish in the scent of blood that day.

…

Aelin didn't know how long it took or how it actually happened, but soon she was gathered in Rowans arms and he was running with her through the forest.

She could still smell the stench of fire and burning flesh on the air. She could still see the way Rowan moved towards Cairn with his weapons raised. She could still hear the last of Cairn’s screams on the wind.

Rowan had held nothing back in his attack. He’d taken his time to carve into Cairn’s flesh, to draw out as much pain and misery as he could.

Aelin could only watch. Watch and thank the gods for what Rowan was capable of.

Now, they eventually came to where Aelin’s growing army was camped, but she could hardly notice or care about the numbers that were gathering. All she could do was fall against Rowans chest and let him watch over her.

Even when Lysandra and Elide came to help bath and dress and treat the wounds that marred her skin. It was hard to do while stool as sentinel growling when anyone moved too close or too quick.

But Aelin couldn't bring herself to really notice or care. Not when Elide’s gentle fingers wove her damp hair into a braid and Lysandra rubbed oils and lotion into Aelin’s raw skin.

She couldn't hold back the flinch when Lysandra brushed her belly as she pulled a tunic over Aelin’s head. Lysandra froze remembering that night on the ship when Aelin told her she was with child.

"Aelin," Lysandra whispered. She hovered close, eyes darting to where Rowan glowered.

"What?" He demanded. "Is something wrong? Do we need Yrene?"

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe it was better if Yrene came to tell her that her worst fears had been realized. But she couldn't bring herself to say the words. Even as Rowan's magic enveloped her, Aelin couldn't look at him.

"Sleep," she rasped. "I just want to sleep."

Maybe she'd be able to disappear into the darkness that had been her only companion. Maybe she'd be able to forget for one moment—

In an instant both Lysandra and Elide were gone and she was back in Rowan's arms. His nose was buried in her neck, arms tight around her.

"You're safe, Fireheart, " he told her. "I promise. You can rest now. Put down your magic, love. It's been flaring for too long now."

Aelin buried her fingers in his tunic until she found his bare flesh and she could feel him beneath her. Was she still flaring her magic? She'd grown so accustomed to holding that shield up around herself that it was second nature even in her exhausted state.

“Rowan,” she whispered, his name a balm against her lips. “I’m sorry.”

He held her tighter against his chest. “For what?”

But she was already asleep.

…

There were hands digging into her skin. Determined hands that picked and prodded as they tore her apart. They ripped at the thin nightgown she wore even as she tried to pull and tug away. But no matter what she did, there was no escape.

One hand went to her throat, fingers tightening until she was struggling for breath. The other hand flexed across her stomach, the touch rough and cold.

“I’ll make you scream,” a voice said. It didn’t take long for her to place that cold, cruel voice. “And then you’ll kneel before me and beg for mercy.”

Aelin’s own scream finally pulled her from the nightmare. She thrashed wildly, desperate to get away from Cairn’s horrific torture.

“Aelin, Aelin.” Another voice, different. A new set of hands came over her, these careful in the way they held her. “Fireheart, you’re safe.”

A snarl tore from her lips, she couldn’t help it. All she could hear was Cairn’s laugh and feel the way his knife cut her skin. She needed to get away. She could focus on nothing other than the how small this tent space and how best she could escape it.

“She needs to calm down, Prince,” a soft voice said from her left, “for her own safety.”

Aelin whirled toward the voice just as a pair of hands went to her waist, firm as they tried to hold her still. They were too close to her belly that Aelin couldn’t help the defensive flare that rose within her. Her instincts took over as she grabbed one of the hands and twisted it away. A flicker of fire raced from her fingers to singe her captor.

They grunted but held on tighter. Ice met her fire and in a low hiss, the small flames burned out.

Blinking rapidly, Aelin looked up to meet the pine green eyes of Rowan.

“Rowan,” she whispered. Her flames disappeared as she took him in.

Yes. This was right. He had come for her. He had held her. He had decimated Cairn as though it were his right.

“Aelin.” Rowan stared at her unblinking. There was caution in his eyes as he regarded her, as though he were expecting her to lash out and burn him again.

The planes of his face were hard as stone as she took him in. He was ragged with bags under his eyes and stubble on his chin. But it was still Rowan. Her Rowan.

“You found me,” she croaked, her voice broken from the screams. You found us.

She released him, nearly pushing him away as everything came back to her.

Oh to fade back into that darkness that was always so welcoming and good to her. That darkness that she could sink into and let take over. If she could disappear, she could forget. She could forget the pain and the fear. She could forget the whips and the whispers. She could forget that she had certainly destroyed the one bit of happiness that was left for her in this world.

Rowan didn’t move as he watched her. But she did note the way his eyes did finally dip from her face down to her stomach.

No. No. No.

Aelin shrunk away from him. She couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t bear to tell him—

She remembered the other body in the tent with them. Aelin turned to see Yrene standing near the closed tent flaps. She had her hair pulled back with a scrap of cloth, her warm brown skin was flushed and the hazel of her eyes was dimmed from the last time Aelin had seen her.

Of course the healer was here. Why wouldn’t she be if Aelin was so broken and torn apart? And if Aelin had killed—

“Aelin,” Yrene said softly. She held out a hand in supplication. “Aelin, it’s alright. You’re still healing. I did the best I could for now.”

Bile rose in Aelin’s throat at the words. Still healing. The best she could. Her fingers wound into the front of her tunic. The walls she’d been trying to keep up were frail and weak. She knew she was hemorrhaging emotions and information directly for Rowan to pick up on but she was so tired.

“Tell me,” Aelin managed to say. She couldn’t finish the thought but when Yrene’s features softened, she knew she’d been understood.

At her back, Aelin could feel Rowan. He didn’t touch her, not yet, but he was there. His strong presence buoyed Aelin up as she waited for Yrene’s answer.

The healer nodded once before managing a smile. “Five months, your majesty. You’re malnourished and need to gain weight, but—as far as I can tell right now—the baby is fine. Small but fine.”

Aelin could only stare as Yrene took her leave and left the tent.

Small but fine. Small but fine. Small but—

“Rowan.” Aelin reached a hand back until she found him. He took her hand in his and pulled her back against his chest, his other arm tentatively wrapping around her. “I thought…I thought I lost it. I thought I wasn’t, that I didn’t—”

Her words were cut off as a sob rose in her throat. When her legs gave out from the exertion of the past five minutes, Rowan was there to catch her. He held her against him as they both sank to the ground, wrapped up in each other as Aelin cried.

Rowan only held her. His face was once against buried in her neck; his lips soft against her skin as he whispered something in the Old Language. She had longed for a moment like this for so long that she didn’t dare move. Instead, she held on to Rowan as her cries continued and eventually her body stopped shaking.

It was then that Rowan lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the small cot she’d been sleeping in earlier. He laid her down gently before curling around her. One of his large hands hovered near her stomach but he didn’t dare touch her.

“You knew,” he said, his voice was rough and worn. “You knew before Maeve took you.”

Aelin closed her eyes to the sight of Rowan’s own mournful gaze. He’d been crying same as her.

With a long breath, she took her hand in his and rested it on that too small swell. As soon as he touched her, Rowan’s body went stiff then slack, then a shudder nearly broke him apart. His hold on her tightened just barely before stopping. Aelin could feel the trembles taking him as he waited. She pressed his hand more firmly against her, holding him there even when he tried to pull away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she bowed her head forward until she rested against his chin. “I’m so sorry, Rowan.”

“I could have lost you,” he said, breath fanning over her hair.

“I didn’t think it was real,” she said. “I told myself it couldn’t be. And then I was in that coffin and I knew. I knew what I had done. And it would be my fault if—if—”

She felt another wave of tears come over her and she stopped talking. Rowan gently cradled her chin in his hand, tilting her face up. She kept her eyes closed, unable to look at him.

“And when C-c, when he started to hurt me,” she continued, forcing the words through trembling lips, “I put all my energy into trying to keep it real, to keep the—the baby safe. But every day I thought that would be it, that would be the time I failed. I’d already failed you, so why not that life?”

Rowan’s hand flexed against her stomach and his lips grazed her forehead, her eyes, her lips.

“You’d never fail me,” he assured her.

Was he not hearing her or was she not speaking clear enough? “I didn’t tell you.”

“You said it yourself; you didn’t think you were,” he said. “And when was the time? Everything happened so fast.”

His voice trailed off and Aelin finally opened her eyes. He was watching her with an unreadable expression. Aelin felt her heart tug. She had imagined him so many times in her captivity. He’d often been a dim voice in the back of her mind, but he’d been there nonetheless. Sometimes it had been him and only him that got her through a day.

“Rowan.” She kept her hand firmly over his where it rested on her belly. “I’m scared. When I close my eyes, I swear I’m back there. And when I sleep? I already nearly burned you. How can I do this? How can I do anything of this? Not just a child, but a war? How can I be strong enough when I’ve fallen apart so many times already?”

"You're not alone, Fireheart," he said. His voice was so soft Alein almost thought she'd imagined it. She watched that hard, carefully crafted expression of his soften. "Not anymore. But if this is too much, if you don't want— "

Aelin squeezed his hand knowing what he was suggesting. He broke off and only watched her.

"I choose this," she said. "And I choose you, Rowan Whitethorn. "

He nodded once at her words before leaning in to kiss her.

His lips were soft against hers. Soft and gentle as he explored her again. And Aelin, desperate for that feeling and taste of home, kissed him back. Rowan rested his hands on her hips as she rolled on top of him.

From there, she quickly took control, her mouth moving urgently against his until she was pulling his lower lip, sucking gently but needful. Her hands were roving his body tugging at Rowans tunic, the buttons of his pants. She needed him. Needed every bit of him that she could get.

And when they came together with careful kisses and whispered promises Aelin found for the first time, she was able to banish that terrible darkness away.

They still had so far to go and so much to learn—but they would get there together.

.*.*.*.*.*.