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verperina · 4 months

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It Was Just For One Night

Pairing: Dorian Havilliard x f!reader

Summary: What was only supposed to be a one-time thing turns into a two-time thing.

Warnings: 18+ smut

Word Count: 5,662

Authors Note: This is my first time writing in a while and my first time writing for Throne of Glass/SJM’s work. I’ve never published anything on here before, so please don’t be too harsh. I hate the dialogue and the smut, but oh well. Massive credit to @autumnshighlady for helping me with the smut and for being so kind.

You feel the faint touch of a phantom hand ghost along the skin of your bare back, leaving goosebumps. You suppress a shudder. You could feel a pair of eyes burning into the side of your face, making your heart beat faster. You raised the glass of red wine to your lips and swallowed a mouthful down, trying to appear calm with your father standing beside you, conversing with another lord. They were talking about something that you had no interest in or care enough to act like you were listening to them.

His eyes were on you. Watching you. Always watching you. You finally let your eyes meet the king’s gaze and they were filled with pure hunger and desire. His sapphire eyes slowly trailed the entire length of your body, taking in the dark navy satin dress that had been gifted to you this morning. You weren’t even aware who had gifted you the dress, but it was obvious now. From the way his lips twitched and the hunger in his eyes became more and more apparent.

It had only been a month since you and Dorian had slept together. A drunken fueled haze that had been filled with pure carnal desire. It was a one-time thing. You knew it would never happen again, but it didn’t mean that you would if it did. He had been a very generous and a very passionate lover. Making sure that you had found release, multiple times, before finding his own. When he finished, he asked if you were okay, dressed himself and left your chambers and that was it. You weren’t expecting anything after. It would be foolish to think so.

You were surprised that the king had chosen you of all people to bed. You had heard that when Dorian was still the prince he was a harlot, so surely it wouldn’t be hard for him to find someone more appealing since he’s the King of Adarlan.

After that night there were times when both of you would be in the same room and you would make yourself never look in his direction, or he would talk to your father about diplomatic matters and rather quickly, you would excuse yourself. You didn’t want anyone to find out. You could only imagine the scandal it would cause.

An older man was talking to Dorian, and the king nodded his head, pretending that he was listening. His crown gleaming in the light, rings decorating his long fingers, dressed exquistely, and seated on his throne full of pride. He was beautiful and he knew it too.

You forced yourself to divert your gaze, focusing instead on the people dancing to the music and the decorations that adorned the room for the Yulemas ball. But you felt it again. That phantom touch. And this time, it wasn’t faint. It felt more apparent. More forceful.

The touch stroked the length of your spine before landing on the curve of your backside, trailing downwards until it reached the back of your thigh, and gave a soft squeeze. You purse your lips as your hand clenches the stem of the wine glass, face warming, and you quickly glance at your father and the other lord, making sure they weren’t paying attention to what was happening, before looking back toward Dorian to see his eyes were still on you. He wasn’t even trying to hide the smug look on his face.

Arrogant prick. You couldn’t believe he was choosing to do this in a room full of people. Especially with your father right next to you. You shot a subtle look at Dorian, but it only seemed to amuse him. He cocked his head to the side, a mocking gesture, daring you to do something. The tension was starting to become too much.

You swallowed.

“I’m going out to the garden for some air,” you said quietly to your father. He waved his hand in dismissal and continued his conversation with the man. You placed your glass down on the nearest table and began weaving your way through the crowds of people, careful to not get anyone’s wine on your dress. You could feel Dorian’s gaze burning through the back of your head, following your every movement.

When you walked outside you inhaled the air, welcoming it into your lungs and letting the cold breeze cool your flushed body. Everything had felt too warm and crowded inside that room. Too overwhelming.

Snow fell from the sky, landing on the ground and kissing it a beautiful white. A few snowflakes landed in your hair. The wind was lightly blowing, making your skin prickle. You pulled a single rose from a bush, careful to not cut your fingers on any of the thorns. The rose was a deep, luscious shade of red with soft petals. You lifted the flower to your nose and inhaled its sweet and floral scent. There was a soft crunch in the snow behind you. Footsteps. You didn’t have to turn around to know who they belonged to.

“That is a very beautiful dress,” Dorian said, his voice smooth. You turned your head to the side and met his gaze. Pure mirth in his stare. His raven black hair shining in the moonlight. “You look rather flustered.”

You kept your face blank, feeling a small hint of annoyance starting to bubble up inside of you. “Are you mad?”

Dorian quirked an eyebrow. “No, ‘Your Majesty’?”

A roll your eyes. “Are you mad, Your Majesty?”

He grinned. “Ask me tomorrow.”

"My father was right there,” you huffed. “He could have seen. Anyone could have seen.”

“Yes, but no one did.”

“I’m not an exhibsionist.”

“I apologize, my lady.” He gave a mocking bow.

“Is this a game to you?” You ask, turning to face him fully.

His brows slightly furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You had your fun. We both did,” you explained. “It was a one-time thing, so why did you give me this dress and why did you do that in there?”

He was quiet for a moment, studying you, and then asked, “What if I want it to become a two-time thing?”

“Why? What’s in it for you?” You say cautiously. Surely he wasn’t serious.

“I get to enjoy your presence once more,” he answered. “I rather enjoyed myself the last time.”

You try to hide your surprise, but he caught it. You kept your eyes on him, furrowing your eyebrows, and wondered why he wanted to sleep together again, with you, when he could have anyone else. You weren’t completely turned-off to the idea. It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t thought about it.

In the dead of night, you would let your fingers slip inside your wet cunt and fantasize about his hands wrapping around your throat, his teeth tugging on your nipple, and his cock thrusting inside of you. The sound of his groans and your moans, both of your bodies slick with sweat. You felt a flutter low in your stomach. Your throat bobbed.

“We could enjoy each other’s company once more.”

“What if someone finds out?” You cross your arms across your chest. “It would make things difficult for you, but mainly for me.”

“The guards wouldn’t say anything,” he reassured.

You raised an eyebrow. “Surely the presence of your absence has been noted.”

“I announced that I was retiring for the night and told everyone to continue partying.”

“What if someone sees?”

“Everyone is too busy drinking and dancing,” he paused for a moment, looking you up and down, noticing that your body was stiff. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Do you not want to? If not, then it’s fine, I don’t mean to place pressure on you.”

You could tell that Dorian’s words were genuine. His face was soft and patient, waiting for you to respond. “I want to,” I admitted. His eyes became bright at your words. “I just don’t want to complicate things.” He waited for you to continue. “You’re the King of Adarlan; I don’t think people would be pleased to know that you’ve bedded me. I would probably be seen as a woman who tempted the king for money and power, as a whore.”

“It's no one's business what I do, or what you do. I am the king. My guards know to keep their mouths shut, especially the ones that are stationed outside my chambers. If anyone does find out, you can come to me and I’ll deal with it.”

You thought about it for a moment, weighing your options, and glanced around the garden to see that it was still empty. You met his gaze once more and nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?” He asked. His voice came out low, taking a step closer to you.

“Yes.” You licked your lips, and his eyes trailed the movement. You took a step forward, glancing at his lips, tilting your head upwards and parting your lips slightly, giving him permission to kiss you. His hand came to cup your face, his thumb lightly stroking the side of your cheek while his other hand settled on your hip, giving it a hard squeeze.

Your bodies were pressed against each other, and it was then that you could feel the hardness of his cock through his trousers. You leaned your head forward, feeling his breathe as your lips were about to connect-

You jerked back as you let out a low hiss of pain as one of the thorns sliced into the tip of your index finger. A bead of blood pooled at the cut, making your skin sting. Dorian plucked the flower from your hand and brought your finger close to his face, his eyes inspecting the small cut and then he looked at you, a sly look on his face.

“You need to be more careful, dove.” He brought your finger to his lips, pressing light kisses onto the skin slowly, as if savoring the taste of the salt on your skin mixed with your blood. His tongue replaced his lips, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath hitched and you could feel wetness start to pool in between your thighs. His teeth harshly nipped at the skin, making a small noise escape your throat. “Dorian,” you moaned quietly. “Please.” Your toes curled. He tossed the rose on the ground, releasing your finger, and brought your lips to his.

His lips were cold but soft, and you ran my hands through his thick hair, your nails lightly scraping his scalp. You swallowed the groan that left his mouth. His hands are roughly squeezing your backside, pushing you closer to him. He tugged your bottom lip between his teeth as you pressed your thighs together to try and relieve some of the aching tension.

“Not here,” you breathed.

He nodded and grabbed your hand, walking both of you out of the garden and through a door that had no one near it, and led the two of you back inside the castle. You had to walk fast to keep up with the strides of his long legs. The halls that he led you through were thankfully empty, not even guards were positioned in the hallway, it looked like any rarely came through this way. He squeezed your hand and brushed his thumb across your knuckles.

The hall to where his chambers came into view and the guards stationed outside didn’t so much as flinch as Dorian neared the door. They only gave a respectful bow to their king, averting their eyes, and pretended to not notice that his hand was interlaced with yours, or that his lips were swollen, and the tanned skin of his cheeks were flushed.

He pushed open the door and led you through his room, quickly closing the door. You stopped in the middle of the room and noticed it was rather untidy; books were open and lying on his desk and the table by the sofa, his bed was unmade, and a few of his clothes were on the floor. But it smelled like him. So much like Dorian.

Your back was facing Dorian, his footsteps sounding closer, the sound of his crown being placed gently on a table, and then he was right behind you. His front pressed against your back, the warmth of his body seeping into you. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before grabbing your chin, making you meet his gaze, sapphire eyes were blazing. His forehead rested against yours. “I need to hear you say it.”

Your breathing was growing heavier.

“Yes. Please.”

His hand released your chin, moving your head back to its original position and his free hand came to rest on your hip. His hand then wrapped around your throat, squeezing softly, and tilted your head back. Dorian’s lips were brushing the shell of your ear before his teeth tugged on the lobe of your ear, biting gently.

The hand on your waist moved until it was settled right above your pelvis, pushing you back so you could feel his cock. You slightly shifted your hips, grinding your ass on his hardened length, and you were pleased when a low groan left him.

He left a trail of rough kisses down the column of your throat, teeth occasionally nipping and harshly sucking on the flesh, marking you as his. Quiet moans escaping your lips as you let your body lean more into him.

The thin strap of your dress fell down your shoulder, exposing your collarbone. Phantom hands came to cup your breasts through the flimsy material of your dress, squeezing before pinching your peaked nipples, hard.

A hiss left you, arching your back away from his body, but his hand pushed you back against him and held you tightly, and grabbed your face again, placing his lips on yours. The tip of your tongue meeting his own. Heat bloomed in your core. He bit your bottom lip as he removed the dress from your body and let it fall to the floor. You turned around, arms snaking around his neck and pulling at the thick strand of his hair.

Both of his hands grabbed yours as he pulled his lips away from yours, breathing heavily, and guiding you toward his large bed. His cheeks were a flushed red and his once neat hair was messy from you dragging your fingers through it.

You climbed onto the bed and sat up on your knees, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and kissed him again. His hand came to cup the side of your ass, his blunt fingernails lightly scratching before a harsh smack came down, the sound echoing throughout the room.

Your body jolted forward and you let out a loud, breathy moan. You felt yourself becoming more aroused.

“You like how that feels?” Dorian asked. Another harsh smack came down, on the opposite side this time, when you didn’t answer. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” you groaned, head tipping back in pleasure.

“I’m going to take good care of you.” The words sounded like a promise.

You tugged off his jacket and let it drop to the floor. You took off his tunic next, revealing the pale line on his tan skin from where the collar had been, and strong, firm muscle. Your hand came to cup his cock through his black trousers. Dorian hissed, eyebrows slightly creasing together in pleasure. You press light kisses on the pale part of his neck, sucking harshly, leaving love bites of your own and running your tongue over the bruised flesh.

He grabbed you by the neck, putting his lips back on yours. His kiss was deliberately slow. Teasing. Savoring the taste of the red wine on your lips. His fingers are pulling at the hair at the nape of your neck. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, wanting to feel the hardness of his length against your stomach. Fingertips pressing into the curve of your neck as his tongue sweeps over your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, feeling his phantom hands squeezing your ass, tracing the band of your underwear. His fingertips brush over your nipples. They’re cold with his ice magic. You shiver and his mouth curves in delight. The tip of Dorian’s nail grazes the hardened bud before he bends down and takes your nipple in his mouth. Your underwear is sticky with your arousal.

He keeps his eyes on you, watching how your head tips back, how your lips part as you begin moaning breathily. He rolls your other nipple between his thumb and index finger, leaving goosebumps on your skin from the coldness of his flesh. He sucks roughly, moaning around the bud as you pull at his hair, and then he tugs at your nipple with his teeth. His tongue laps over it before he begins sucking again.

“Feels so good,” you mumble, trying to catch your breath. You can feel him grin in satisfaction.

Dorian releases the abused flesh and he starts repeating the same motions on the other nipple, but this time it’s harsher, more animalistic. His hand starts trailing down your stomach and then cups your clothed cunt. A chuckle leaves his lips at what he found. “You’re so wet.”

He dips his hand in your underwear and runs a finger through your folds. You start to slowly move your hips, rubbing your clit on the heel of his palm to relieve the aching tension. “Stay still,” he warns, “or I’ll stop.” You groan in frustration, but comply, hesitantly. He circles the entrance to your hole, gathering the wetness that had pooled there, and then slips a finger inside of you.

Your back arches the same time as you let out a choked moan. You clench around him, fighting the urge to rub your clit against his palm. Painfully slow, in a teasing manner, he thrusts his finger in and out. He takes his time in stretching you out. Your voice is husky as you say, “Kiss me.” You open your eyes to see that he’s already looking at you. Pure desire in his gaze.

“Kiss me,” you repeat again. He obliges. There’s nothing gentle or soft about the kiss. It’s messy and fast and rough. Your teeth are clashing against each other, desperate to taste each other. Your breaths are labored, trying to breathe in more air.

He enters a second finger and when you gasp, he shoves his tongue inside your mouth. You dig your nails into the meat of his shoulders before brushing your thumbs over his nipples.

“Since that night I’ve thought of doing this again,” Dorian admitted. “I fucked myself to the thought of you. Imagining it was you stroking my cock.”

His words made you clench around his fingers. You could picture it. His eyes closed, head leaning back against the pillows, and his hand gripping his cock, squeezing hard. His groans coming out hoarsely, loudly. There was a sense of triumph in knowing that you had made the King of Adarlan fantasize about you. It was satisfying.

“So have I,” you also admitted.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

You swallowed. “I shoved my fingers inside my cunt and wished that it was yours instead. I thought of your tongue on my cunt, of your hand around my throat and your cock inside me.”

Dorian’s fingers thrust faster the same time phantom hands tug at your nipples, a warm feeling blooming low in your stomach. Your moans were coming out in short gasps. “Dorian.” Your fingernails leave marks on his broad shoulders and your head tips back. “I’m so close.” The pressure that had been building was becoming more intense. He whispers words of encouragement and praise.

And with a curl of his fingers you cry out, arching your body into him as your orgasm hits you. Your breath comes out in stutters, your body jerking and your knees trembling. His phantom hands help keep you upright. He coaxes you through it. And when your moans cease, he very slowly removes his fingers from your cunt with a squelching sound.

He brings them to his face, inspecting the wet sheen on them. Dorian smiles. “Look at how soaked you are.” Your arousal coats his entire hand, dripping down to his wrist. And while he keeps his eyes locked on yours, he puts his digits into his mouth and tastes your juices. Your breath hitches. His sapphire eyes darken considerably.

The palm of his hand rests on your collarbone and he gently pushes you until your back is lying on the bed. He reaches forward and rips off the lacy material of your underwear. After tossing them across the room he takes a step back and greedily takes in the sight of you; a thin sheen of sweat is covering your body, your nipples are red and swollen from where he sucked and bit on them, and your cunt is dripping wet.

“I need you,” your voice snaps Dorian out of his daze.

He starts to undo the button of trousers and pushes them down, removing his undershorts also. He steps out of them quickly and tosses them aside, and his cock slaps against his abdomen hard. You take in the sight; the fine patch of dark hair, the tip of his cock is red and leaking with his arousal.

You lick your lips, desperate to have his cock in your mouth. The previous time you fucked each other, you only briefly got to lick him, and you had forgotten what he’d tasted like.

He wraps a hand around his cock, giving it a firm stroke. He hisses. “You see what you do to me?”

Dorian walks forward, kneels on the bed and uses his phantom hands to restrain your wrists to the mattress. He lowers himself between your legs and an almost pained look crosses his features as he stares at your core, wet and gleaming for him.

It was a slow torture, him slowly kissing the inside of your thighs, nipping at skin and leaving love bites. His thumbs draw circles into your hips, and you keep squirming, wanting his tongue on your most sensitive part, but he seemed keen on the idea to tease you.

“Dorian,” you rasped. He would continue teasing until you begged for it. It’s what he wanted. You held his gaze and watched as he waited, a grin was on his face, but you could see his body trembling with restraint to keep himself from ravishing you. “Please.”

He cocks his head to the side, mockingly, and his grin is feline. “Because you asked nicely. . .”

Dorian took a long, languid lick up the center of your core. You let out a moan in relief and your eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling of his tongue sliding up and down you, tasting you thoroughly. He peppers kisses along your cunt before he starts licking again.

One of his hands comes up to pinch your nipple and you buck your hips against his face, but he throws an arm across your waist to keep you still. He wraps his lips directly around your clit and you cry out as he starts sucking the sensitive nub. You struggle against the phantom hands that bound your wrists. You want to run your fingers through his hair grind against his face.

Grabbing your thighs, Dorian drapes them over his shoulders to hold you closer and keeps his eyes pinned to your face. He wanted to watch you come on his tongue. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling ever so slightly.

“Right there,” you gasp.

You watch as he presses his hips hard against the mattress and begins rutting against it, a soft groan leaving him and it vibrates through your core.

You try to free your hands from his magic, but it doesn’t budge. “Let me touch you.” You look at him with pleading eyes. “Please, let me touch you.” Finally, those phantom hands release their grip on you.

Your body writhes and your fingers rake through his black hair to push him closer, nails scratching along his scalp. Your cries of pleasure encourage him to keep going. His teeth scraping your clit is what makes you climax. His fingers quicken their pace, tongue moving faster, letting you ride out your high.

It leaves you trembling with needing more, but Dorian removes his tongue and fingers from you and leans back on his knees. His eyes linger on your abused cunt before he looks at you and you stare at him, too. Blue eyes full of adoration. His hair was in disarray, cheeks a pretty shade of pink, and his chin and lips were coated with your arousal but he didn’t seem to care.

He looked devastating.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he grabbed you by the hips and turned you around so you were on your knees, ass in the air, and the side of your face was pressed against the sheets. His hand left a hard smack across your ass cheek making a yelp escape your lips. Dorian’s hands once again grab your hips to bring you close to his face, and his fingers tease your entrance, and you arch your back, urging him to bring you another orgasm again.

He laughed teasingly. “So eager, dove.”

He sticks his tongue inside of your cunt and your entire body shudders. He moans, as if this is pleasuring him just as much as it is you. The taste of you was going to haunt him after this was over. The essence of you would haunt him.

He presses his fingers inside your leaking hole and the pace is fast, desperate to draw a third orgasm from you. Dorian wanted you to come again, and again, and again. He needed you to come again.

Another harsh slap to your ass has you moaning out his name. Your hands clutch the sheets tightly and you rock your hips against his face, and unlike last time, he doesn’t try to make you stay still. He lets you grind yourself on his face and makes his phantom hands rock your hips to move them faster. The tips of his fingers would leave bruises from how hard their grip was.

Lewd noises were coming out of his mouth and your face warmed from the sounds.

Your body trembles as he flicks his tongue against your clit repeatedly and you feel yourself come again. A loud cry echoing against the walls of his room. He hums against your cunt, letting the vibrations further stimulate you. It isn’t until your whimpering that he finally relents. You’re panting, strands of hair clinging to your forehead, and your knees give out beneath you.

“You’re doing so good for me,” Dorian praised. He presses a kiss against your spine. And then another. His hand rubbing your red backside from the slaps he gave. His ice magic soothing the tender skin.

“Dorian,” you mumble.

“Are you okay?” He asks, running a strong hand down the length of your spine gently. Your skin prickles.

You manage a weak nod.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” you murmur. Your eyelids were heavy and the perspiration felt sticky on the nape of your neck.

He helps turn you around so you’re laying on your back. You drink in the sight of him and he does the same. Dorian’s lips were shining with your arousal and his cock looked painfully hard. You wanted to kiss him. You reached out a trembling hand, and he eyed it before taking hold of it and leaning over you, bracing his body weight on his elbows. His nose brushes yours softly.

“Kiss me,” you breathe. He brought his mouth to yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue. You were both frantic and desperate, and didn’t want to pull your mouths apart from each other.

You cup his face, rubbing your thumb along the sharp cheekbone as your other hand played with the strands of his hair. His body was trembling and whatever self-control he had left was slipping away.

You reach a hand down, gripping his length and give it a lazy stroke. He makes a soft noise at the touch, slowly moving his hips as you start pressing kisses onto his collarbones. His forehead resting on top of yours, eyes closed and savoring the moment. You run your thumb over the slit, gathering moisture before giving a gentle squeeze that makes a low growl leave Dorian. That last bit of self-control was completely gone.

He takes his cock and lines the head of it up with your cunt and in one motion, he fully sheaths himself inside of you. A sigh of contentment leaves the pair of you. His pace starts off slow, languid. Your hips roll against his, trying to find a rhythm that matches. His hands roam over the sides of your body before landing on your plush hips. Fingertips digging into your flesh.

“Tell me how you feel.” He licked the side of your throat.

“Good,” you pant. “So good.”

“You like me being inside you?” His tone was teasing, mocking, but you could hear how gravelly he sounded.

“Yes.”

He presses kisses to your lips, your neck, your collarbones, the swell of your breasts. Tongue flicking over both nipples. Your legs lock around his trim waist, bringing him closer to you and you clench tightly around him, and his hips jerk, drawing two mirrored moans of pleasure from you both. Your head tips back in bliss and your entire body is buzzing from pleasure.

Dorian’s eyes were a shade of blue so dark they looked like the freezing cold waters of the sea. He moans out your name like a prayer and dips down to kiss you again, as if one isn’t enough. Your hands run up and down his chest, the tip of your nail scraping his nipple. His thrusts were becoming rougher, deeper, more punishing than before. Your breasts bouncing with every snap of his hips.

One of his phantom hands started rubbing your clit and a low pressure was beginning to bloom in your belly, making a breathy gasp leave you. The walls of your cunt start contracting. Hot, heavy, open-mouthed kisses leave a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. It was messy. Both of you were moaning into each other’s mouth. Both of you sounded so needy.

Dorian buried his face into the crook of your neck. A cry left your lips as his teeth bit down on your skin. His thrusts were brutal, each one bringing you closer to the edge, hips snapping into yours hard enough that the headboard was banging against the wall. He obviously didn’t care if someone heard. And neither did you. The fingers on your clit were moving faster and your body was shaking. “Please, please, please. . .”

That familiar coil settled in your lower abdomen snaps. Your back arching off the bed as you come, the walls of your cunt clenching around him rhythmically, and you bury your forehead into the crook of his neck. Nails leaving red marks on his shoulders and down his back, and toes curling from the overstimulation.

Dorian fucks you through it, and his groans are growing louder and his thrusts harsher; he was going to come. He breathes out a desperate, pleading noise, leaning down until his forehead is pressed against yours. He fucks into you harder. The sound of skin-on-skin reverberating through the room. You give him words of encouragement, pressing quick kisses to his lips.

He comes with a deep, guttural groan. His hips stuttering. And you feel his seed spill into you as he rides out his high, fingertips gripping your hips so tight bruises would probably appear. His thrusts start to slow down before eventually stopping, and he pauses for a moment, panting heavily, before collapsing on top of you, unable to hold himself up any longer.

You brush back the damp strands of hair that cling to his forehead. Both of your bodies are shaking and slick with sweat. His breath tickles your skin.

There were no noises in the room anymore save for the sounds of both of you gasping for air, but it didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. Dorian’s fingers loosened their tight grip on your hips and rubbed the flesh tenderly. A sigh of contentment left you. A passionate and generous lover indeed.

You could feel him start to grow restless. You unlocked your legs from around his waist and he gently pulled out from you with an almost inaudible hiss, and rolled onto his back right beside you, trying to catch his breath. The air in the room grew cold, his magic cooling the both of you off.

Your limbs felt heavy and you could feel his seed spilling out from you. You closed your eyes for a moment, still feeling the tingling sensation all over your body. Deep down you knew that no one would ever fuck you as good as Dorian just had. You didn’t know if this would happen again or if people would find out that you had fucked their king.

A small part of you inside felt sad knowing that you would be staying at the castle for only one more month before leaving to go back to your city. But you knew it was just sex. You didn’t expect anything more. It would be foolish to.

You could feel Dorian’s eyes burning into the side of your head, his lips parting, “Perhaps we should do this again.” The words were spoken nonchalantly, but you picked up on the tinge of nervousness. “Make it a three-time thing.”

You lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug, making yourself appear calm, and felt a grin tugging at your lips. “Maybe.”

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throneofsmut · 2 days

Text

Quiet In The Library

Dorian Havilliard x Female Reader

Description: Dorian finds reader in the Library of Orynth during a visit to Terrasen. Based on this request.

Warnings: Smut !!

Word Count: 893

Author's Note: sorry this took so long 😖 but i hope whoever requested this likes it and i swear im working on the last two requests 😭😭

****

You were standing on the tips of your toes, reaching for a book on a too tall shelf in the Library of Orynth, your fingertips barely brushing against the spine of the book.

Letting out a soft noise of frustration while you silently cursed Aelin for telling you about the spicy novel that was in her personal section of the library.

“Come on.” You muttered angrily to no one in particular under your breath. “Stupid b—“ The quiet curse you were directing at the book is replaced by a loud yelp.

As a tall muscled body pressed you further against the bookshelf. A large hand covering yours as long fingers pulled the book down easily. Swiftly.

He was still crowding you against the books, his chest pressing into your back when he spoke, “How did I know you’d be in here, love.”

You turned around to face him. A hand pressed against your heart that was still pounding. “Dorian, don’t scare me like that!” You whisper-yelled at him.

“Sorry,” he chuckled softly, looking down at you lovingly.

“You say that every time.” He doesn’t respond. His eyes flicking over your face and body and back up to face, making your face heat. You hold your hand out for the book, “can I have my book now?”

Dorian lips set into a small grin when he takes in the furrow of your brows and sensual pink lips that are set in an angry pout. “No.”

“No?”

“No. Let me make it up to you, my love.”

You arch a brow at him, crossing your arms over your chest, “how?”

His grin turns sensual as he grabs ahold of one of your hands and leads both of you deeper, to a more secluded part of the library. You were both close friends to the Queen and King Consort of Terrasen, Aelin and Rowan.

Which is why you both had free rein in the Castle of Orynth, especially in the library, since all three of you—Aelin, Dorian and you—loved books.

Your heart was still pounding but now it was from anticipation. Knowing just how he would make it up to you. Part of you thought he liked to upset you just so he would have an excuse to make it up to you.

He finally stopped next to a corner bookshelf that towered over both of you that was labeled “Fantasy”. Dorian stilled for a few heartbeats, looking, listening if anyone was near and when he was satisfied that no one was he dropped to his knees.

In front of you.

Then a couple seconds later your tunic was pushed up over your tits and your pants were around your ankles. His hands gripped your hips and that was the only warning you got before he parted your wet folds with a flat tongue. “Oh f-fuck!” You moan, your hips rolling at the feeling.

Nipples hardened into peaks to the point of pain as he started pinching and pulling them, while his tongue began to flick and swirl over your swollen clit. Soft moans and whimpers leaving your lips at the feel of every stroke.

Your fingers pull and tug at his hair while your hips grind against his face. Breath hitching as your back arches from pleasure.

Heats pools at the base of your spine as you work your hips faster against his face. Chasing your climax and right when you’re about to reach your peak he pulls back. “Dorian, why did y—“

The words die in your throat when in one swift movement he stands to his full height and buries himself in your soaked cunt. A low groan falling from his lips as your walls clench around his cock. “I haven’t even moved yet and you’re already milking me, love,” he murmurs.

Your only response is a loud sinful moan as his hips set into a deep sensual rhythm. The head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot every time he moves.

He chuckles, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “Quiet, love, you’re in the library.” You nod your head, as you bite your bottom lip attempting to stifle your moans.

Without stopping Dorian lifts you—your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he holds you up by your ass. Feeling him impossibly deeper than before at the new angle.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you try to muffle your cries of pleasure. “Oh gods. . . don’t stop! Right there!” The bookshelves digging into your back in the best way with each thrust.

Even his own groans are getting raspier, louder as he fucks you harder. His hold on you, tightening as he chases his own release and yours.

The both of you, so close to the edge of release.

You begin to tremble in his strong arms as the fire in your tummy spreads to your whole body. His pace turning desperate, your back arching as a shattered scream rips through your throat as you climax.

Dorian swallows it greedily with a hungry kiss as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Not a minute later his hips began to stutter and with one last deep thrust his release barrels through him.

His muscles tensing beneath your touch as your walls flutter around his cock, milking every last drop of his cum, as he groans against your neck.

#throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass smut #throne of glass x reader #throne of glass x yn #throne of glass x you #throne of glass dorian #dorian havilliard #dorian havilliard fanfic #dorian havilliard x reader #dorian havilliard x reader smut #dorian havilliard smut #dorian havilliard x yn #dorian havilliard x you #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #acotar reader fic

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shadowhandss60 · 6 months

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A Dance of Ice and Iron 🖤

Commision by @badeyart

#kinda based on the fic I made #throne of glass #dorian havilliard #manon blackbeak #manorian #manon x dorian #manorian fic #manorian fanart #dorian havilliard and manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard fanart #manon blackbeak fanfiction #manon blackbeak fanart #bookblr #fanart #my commissions

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saphirered · 8 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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charincharge · 2 months

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I Don't Want To Wait, sixty-seven

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

AN: WHOOPS, I disappeared for two years. (Legit the last chapter was posted in May 2022!). But I’m back and have written… a lot of the rest of this fic, so we’re just going to post weekly (or even twice weekly!) until we’re finished. And I hope you’re still out there, anyone, to enjoy it. Quick recap for a previously on IDWTW. Aelin and Rowan had sex! It was great. Then they walked in on Rhoe and her dance teacher Petrah having sex, which was NOT great. Aelin never wants to go back to dance again. We returned to school. Senior second semester is going great. Busy for Aelin, who is still trying to work her butt off re: APs and grades. Less busy for Rowan, who is already recruited to college for lacrosse. Aelin and Lys had a huge falling out, but have slowly rekindled their friendship now that Lys is sober and working on her shit. Elide and Manon came out! They’re running as homecoming queens! Dorian and Chaol haven’t DTRed and are taking a break. Last we left off, Aelin texted someone to help retrieve her lacrosse hoodie from the dance studio after hours. But who? Keep reading to find out. Also, I have been gone for so long that I have NO idea who is still in the fandom or reading Rowaelin fic. Please reblog to spread the word! Taglist doesn't seem to possible anymore, so please share! Love you all and missed you all. Comment, message, meme, gif, whatever. Let’s go, team.

Aelin watched with wide eyes as Lys lowered into a crouch and removed a bobby pin from her hair. When she’d texted her friend to help with her mission, she hadn’t realized that Lysandra was a bona-fide expert at breaking and entering.

“It got boring in rehab,” Lys said with a small shrug, as if that explained her masterful lock-picking.

“Good to know,” Aelin said, chewing her thumb nervous and glancing over her shoulder at Rowan, who waited patiently in the jeep — aka, their getaway car. She didn’t think they’d actually need one, but this whole thing was such a thing, she figured it was probably safest to have a getaway car. What if the cops were called about the break-in, and they had to run?

Aelin almost chuckled at the thought of Orynth’s elderly Police Chief trying to run after them, but it hadn’t stopped her from telling Lys to dress all in black and meet them at the dance studio at eight. Luckily, Rhoe was at the station overnight, so he couldn’t see their ridiculous antics. But, after all, this mission was serious. She tried to refocus on Lys, who was finagling with a pin in the lock, taking her sweet time. A rush of panic ran through Aelin. What if they got caught? What if this got put on her permanent record? What if they got arrested?

BZZZZ. Aelin’s phone vibrated in her hand, making her jump with surprise.

“Gods,” she muttered under her breath, causing Lys to chuckle under her breath.

“Tell your buzzard not to worry, we’re almost there,” she said, twisting the pin again in a different direction. Aelin sighed at the reassurance. She knew that Rowan had to be feeling her nerves as well. Although maybe not quite as much. She wasn’t usually concerned about being a rule follower, but every step of the way had made her feel more and more stressed out. Which might have to do more with her overbearing boyfriend watching their every move than anything else. Couldn’t he just sit there and look cute and not worry? She looked at his text and shook her head. She should have known it’d be impossible. He was the biggest worry wart of them all.

Are you sure no one’s in the studio? It looks like the lights are on upstairs. Rowan texted from the front seat, his view of the studio probably better than theirs. But Aelin had spent too many years of her life at this studio. Despite her churning stomach, she knew they were fine.

Last class ended an hour ago. They always leave the lights on for the cleaning staff, but they get Fridays off, so they’re on until Saturday morning. It was part of my class schedule to turn the lights off. We’re good.

She looked over her shoulder after sending the text, and watched as Rowan threw a thumbs up in her direction. She couldn’t help but laugh at how silly he looked in his oversized black hoodie with the hood up. Despite completely disapproving of her decision, he showed up ready for the assignment at hand.

“Tadaaa,” Lys sang out quietly as the lock clicked open, the door popping ajar.

“Honestly, when I asked you to help me break into the dance studio, I figured we’d be throwing a rock into a window or something,” Aelin whispered, even though there was absolutely no reason to whisper at all. Aelin had timed it purposefully, so she wouldn’t have to run into … anyone. Okay, she really didn’t want to have to talk to Petrah. She’d avoided the studio (and Petrah) for so many weeks following the revelation that she’d been involved with her dad, and she had no intention of breaking that now. So, they’d had no choice but to break into the studio under the cover of darkness.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Lys said. “The door upstairs has a lock, too, right?”

Aelin nodded. Annoyingly, there were three doors they had to break open — the building door, the door to the second floor, and then the dance studio entrance. Thank god Aelin had her locker key, so that wasn’t a worry.

“So, why are we doing this again?” Lys asked as they trudged up the long stairwell to the second floor. She tried not to flinch as the rubber-covered stairs squeaked beneath her shoes. “Not that I’m not happy to help,” she continued. “I just thought that you started dancing again and loved it?”

“Ugh,” Aelin groaned. “I did.” Aelin paused for a beat too long, causing Lys to flip her dark curls over her shoulder to get a better look at Aelin.

“But?”

“It’s…complicated,” Aelin sighed as Lys crouched down in front of the second floor door.

“Well, this is going to take a minute,” Lys laughed. “Tell me.” Aelin was going to refute again when Lys’s voice changed, softer. “Unless you don’t want to…”

Aelin nearly smacked herself. She’d thought this would be a ridiculous, fun (and pretty low-stakes) way to hang out with Lys again, and here she was totally ruining it by keeping things to herself again.

“No, it’s not like that,” Aelin reassured her as she continued to work on the lock. “It’s just… horrifying.”

“Well now you can’t not tell me,” Lys snickered, but Aelin recognized the slight trepidation in her friend’s green eyes. Still nervous to push things. Aelin bit the bullet and let it out in a whoosh.

“Oh my GOD.” Lys’s nose crinkled, and she fell to her knees completely as her shoulders shook with laughter as Aelin told her story. “I mean, we all knew Rhoe fucked,” Lys cackled, causing Aelin to smack her friend’s knee.

“EW! That is my dad,” she said, fake heaving.

“He’s a hot, hot firefighter daddy, though,” Lys said, her eyebrows wiggling.

“I swear to god I will vomit straight on you.”

Aelin tried to be serious, but Lysandra’s smile pushed them both over the edge into a fit of giggles. They laughed and laughed, releasing the tension that had been hovering around them like a thick blanket all night, officially removing all traces of formality. Unable to help herself, Aelin reached out for her friend’s hand, squeezing her fingers gently and was relieved as Lys squeezed back. They weren’t healed, per se, but they were healing, and that was the most that Aelin could really ask for right now.

Taking a breath and wiping the remnant tracks of tears from her cheeks, Lys pushed herself back up to her knees. “Second lock?”

“Speaking of my family…” Aelin started nervously, but forged on, curious. “How’s Aedion doing?”

To her credit, Lys didn’t even lose pace as she unlocked the next door with ease.

“I know you want me to reply with something equally scandalous, but there’s nothing going on between me and Aedion,” Lys replied succinctly. “We’re friends.”

“Okay,” Aelin said, not completely convinced, but chose to respect her boundaries and believe her words.

The pair fell into an awkward silence as they headed down the hall toward the studio door. Just one last lock to get through — and then she’d never have to return to this place. A part of her heart panged at that thought, that she’d be leaving Orynth and this studio behind and not really getting to say goodbye to it. But running into Petrah was NOT an option.

“Hey, isn’t this the studio?” Lys asked of a propped open door, a gentle music wafting from inside. Aelin’s stomach sank. Had someone stayed late tonight practicing? It was a plus that they wouldn’t have to break into yet another door, but she really didn’t want to risk running into anyone. “I thought you said it was closed.”

At the same time, the pair noticed the schedule on the door, showing the company’s new rehearsal schedule. Their rehearsals now went until nine on Friday night, meaning that Aelin had shown up in the middle of a packed studio, instead of an empty one. And one where Petrah would surely be. She contemplated turning right around, but Lys had already opened the door too far, leading them into the studio lobby where the company was on break, milling around and refilling their water bottles.

And at the front desk, Petrah’s eyes widened with surprise upon seeing her. “Aelin!”

She should have guessed breaking in had been too easy. Had the doors even been locked? She knew Lysandra had gotten through them too quickly! Grumbling, she stepped out of the shadow and into the lobby toward Petrah. She couldn’t run away anymore, so she had no choice but to say hello to the woman who she’d been studiously avoiding for weeks. And by the look on Petrah’s face, she knew it, too.

“I’ll go grab your jersey,” Lys whispered, leaving her to fend for herself. “See you downstairs!”

“Traitor,” Aelin mumbled under her breath as Lysandra all but ran into the locker room, excusing herself from the awkward conversation that surely lay ahead. She wanted to run, but her feet were stuck, watching Petrah approach nervously.

“Aelin,” she said again, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you….” But Aelin cut her off.

“I don’t want to talk about it!” she said, ready to slap her hands over her ears, lest Petrah talk about her dad in any less than completely formal way.

Petrah’s deep pink lips curled up on one side in amusement, but Aelin watched as she took another deep breath and shook off whatever she’d been about to say. Instead, she watched as her smile fell into a wistful expression. “We’ve missed seeing you around here,” Petrah said.

Aelin’s eyes shot to the open doorway of the studio where the company practiced, all jetes and pirouettes and well-supported port de bras. She had missed dancing. She really had just gotten back into it when she let it fall away. Petrah must have seen her expression because she smiled faintly and let her delicate hand fall to Aelin’s shoulder.

“You could join the class. Dance it out,” Petrah suggested.

Aelin couldn’t tear her eyes away from the dancers. She watched the emotion pour from them. That is what she needed. But as Lysandra held up her jersey and trailed down the stairs in the periphery of her vision, Aelin shook her head.

“I can’t tonight.”

“I understand that it might be strange to spend time with me after what you overheard…” Petrah trailed off as blood pooled in her cheeks, filling her usual pale complexion with a deep blush. “It was completely casual. It’s only happened a handful of times, and we both know it’s not serious. I’m not trying to replace your mother, or anything like that, it’s just… an occasional stress release, and oh my god, I am sorry I didn’t mean to say any of that.” Aelin cringed at the words. She wanted to stop Petrah, but the woman couldn’t be stopped even if she wanted to. “Please don’t give up dance because of this,” Petrah pleaded. “You have such a gift, Aelin, and I would be filled with regret for the rest of my life if I knew I was the cause of you walking away from it.”

Aelin took a breath, the comforting scent of chalk and worn leather infiltrating her senses and calming her down as she figured out what to reply to Petrah. Of course she wanted to dance still. It was undeniable, the way her body pulled her toward the studio, the way a sense of calm settled through her despite her initial discomfort upon seeing Petrah. She thought about her lack of free time and her constantly building stress as the semester went on and how badly she wished she could just dance it out. That release of emotion centered her, and she knew that she was feeling off kilter without it. Making time for dance had improved her life drastically — it'd kept her sane as the rest of her semester spiraled out of control — and she wanted it back. So, so badly.

She was on the verge of agreeing to join the practice when there was a crash and loud shriek from the studio. When the shriek morphed into a choked sob, a churning nausea overwhelmed Aelin. She watched as Petrah’s face morphed into one of horror as she sprinted into the studio. Sure enough, one of the dancers was on the floor, cradling her ankle, cheeks red and involuntary tears dripping down her skin, while another dancer attempted to help her stand. The girl hissed, crying out in pain and sat down again.

“Call an ambulance,” someone ordered, and suddenly there was a frenzy, a rush of dancers looking on in terror at the injury in front of them. Aelin stood with her back against the wall, not wanting to be in the way, slinking out of sight while so much was going on. It felt like a sign from the universe that Aelin shouldn’t even think about wasting her time with dancing. Like the gods warned her that she had way too much going on to even consider it.

With Petrah distracted, Aelin slipped out, trying to gain control of her waging feelings. She slid into the backseat next to Lys, her mind reeling and unable to get the image of the crying dancer out of her head. So caught up in her own thoughts, she didn’t even hear Rowan call out to her, until red and blue flashed behind them. He swung his head over her shoulder, his mouth agape in horror as he stared at his unusually quiet girlfriend.

“Ace, what did you do? Are those the cops?!”

Aelin shook her head, the horrible feeling of nausea persisting in her gut as Rowan drove away from the studio.

. . .

It had been days since Aelin had received a text from an unknown number, and she still hadn’t decided what she was going to do.

I thought you should know we’re holding an emergency dance company audition this Tuesday at 5pm. Please come, Aelin.

Aelin chewed her sandwich thoughtfully as she pulled up the text again. The audition was merely hours away, but she was still on the fence.

“You still haven’t made up your mind?” Lysandra asked, glancing at Aelin’s phone screen. Her former — maybe current — friend had started joining them at the lunch table in the last few days since their late night break in, continuing to heal and thaw what had broken between them.

“I keep telling her to pro con list,” Rowan said, letting his fingers trail across the back of her neck and kneading the tight muscles there with his strong grasp.

“Mmmm,” Aelin mumbled, leaning further into his touch. “Con. Time spent without you.”

“Pro, something to do while I’m at lacrosse practice,” he countered as his fingers massaged a particularly tender part of her neck. She angled her head so he could have better access, but he took it as an invitation to let his head drop to her bare skin and press his lips against it, causing her body to light up. As she leaned toward him with another light moan, Dorian slammed his tray down on the table with a loud thwack.

“Get a room or get outta here,” he complained, tossing a fry at the still-intertwined pair.

“Someone’s got their panties in a bunch,” Aelin laughed as she tossed the fry back at the offender.

“My panties are perfectly smooth, thank you very much,” Dorian quipped. “Some of us would just prefer not to bear witness to your foreplay.”

“Pro,” Rowan whispered into Aelin’s ear, his lips ghosting against the tickling skin there. “I really love watching you dance.”

“Pro,” Aelin whispered back. “Increased stamina, muscle strength, and flexibility.”

Aelin glanced up at Rowan, who was already staring back at her with a fiery intensity. Her eyes glanced down at his mouth, which was curled into a satisfied smirk. His throat bobbed with a slow swallow, surely thinking of all the way those fitness benefits could be put to good use. She leaned in slightly, her lips a hairs breadth away from his when another fry hit her cheek. Aelin whipped her head around, rubbing at the salty spot where the food had made contact with her face.

Dorian was the picture of innocence, eyes wide as he chewed his own fry.

“Con,” Lys interjected. “Increased horniness.”

“Literally didn’t think that was possible,” Dorian said with a snort. “So, what are we pro-conning?” he asked, popping another fry into his mouth.

“Orynth Dance Company is having an emergency audition after an injury, and Aelin was personally invited to try out,” Lysandra explained.

“But I don’t really have the time,” Aelin started. “It would require actual rehearsal time. Like, a lot of nights. Not just an hour long class. Plus, I’d have to see Petrah every day. And I have to knock this last semester’s grades out of the park if I want to even think about getting a scholarship anywhere, plus I have a million AP exams to study for coming up, and that’s not even considering keeping up with hospital volunteering and going to your games and having any kind of semblance of a social life and…” she trailed off, her stomach finally settling as she came to the conclusion she knew she was going to come to all along. “I can’t join the dance company.”

Rowan frowned and reached for her hand. “Are you sure, Ace?” His hand wrapped around hers in a comforting squeeze, and she knew he was asking seriously. “We could make it work. I could help you study, we could bring out your color-coded schedule again to make sure we could fit everything in.”

“I know,” Aelin sighed, squeezing back. “But, I’m sure.”

But as the afternoon ticked by, Aelin couldn’t ignore the swirling feeling of guilt trying to pull her under. She was so distracted by the approaching time that she completely zoned out through all of AP Lit, startling when the period ended and Dorian poked her side.

And as five PM approached closer and closer, she found herself growing more agitated and even snapping at Rowan at one point. It wasn’t his fault; he had to head off to lacrosse practice, but Aelin had found herself so worked up that she had thought maybe he’d want to help release some tension.

“I’ll come right over after practice,” Rowan promised as he twined his hands around her waist.

“But you’ll be all sweaty and gross,” Aelin replied with a frown.

“I thought you liked when I get sweaty,” he laughed, nuzzling his nose into her hair. Aelin sighed, knowing she was being petulant, but she couldn’t get out of her own head.

“Only when I’m the one doing it!”

She tried to push him away, but Rowan’s grasp on her was iron-clad, too tight for her to even think about prying him off her. “Ace,” he lowered his voice. “I would love nothing more than to skip practice and be with you, but you know this is the only thing I need to do this semester to keep my place at Wendlyn.”

“Because Wendlyn’s more important than me?”

“I think you need a snack,” Rowan laughed, but Aelin didn’t find that funny at all.

“Sorry my blood sugar problems are amusing to you,” she said, stiffening within his grasp. She felt Rowan sigh deeply and watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose and scrunched his brows up the way she loved so much.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “You know that’s not—”

“I know,” Aelin replied quickly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

Rowan raised a single brow as if to tell her he knew exactly what had gotten into her, and so did she.

“It’s not even four yet,” Rowan said. “You could still go.”

But Aelin was nothing if not resolute. She’d made up her mind, and it was completely logical. And she was sticking to it. No, she’d head home and, yes, get a snack, and dig into her lit homework. Maybe Dorian would be willing to give her his notes from the class, seeing as she couldn’t remember a single thing that was discussed earlier.

She forced a smile and shrugged her shoulders back. “Nope, you were right. I need a snack. I’ll head to Maeve’s and see what she’s got for me.”

Rowan grimaced. “She closed for the afternoon, actually, while they put in a new stove, but she should be reopened by the time I’m out of practice.” Aelin shivered as Rowan let his fingers trail in small circles up and down her back. “Why don’t I stop there on my way to your place after practice? Cheeseburger and brownies?”

“And then orgasms?” Aelin asked, causing a loud snort to erupt from Rowan.

“You want to have sex after cheeseburger and brownies? That feels dangerous.”

“Well, we could have sex first, but reheated cheeseburgers are pretty garbage,” Aelin replied, loving the soft smile that appeared on Rowan’s face. It was the one solely reserved for her. When she was being particularly ridiculous or annoying, it was like he couldn’t help but love her more, and the small curve of his lips let her know that.

“You’re right. Cheeseburgers first,” he paused. “Then sex, then brownies?”

“Deal,” Aelin said as she reached her hand out to shake his. But he instead grasped it in his and brought it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles lightly.

“I love you,” he said.

And though Aelin wanted to roll her eyes, she took a moment to relish the fact that her best friend in the whole world loved her. And would do anything to make her smile. In fact, he’d succeeded in getting her too distracted to think about the auditions and…

As soon as she thought about them, her smile faded again.

“Just go,” he whispered, but Aelin shook her head.

“Have a good practice. See you in a few hours.”

She kissed him and sent him off, hoping to pour herself into her studies. But even with her book open, Aelin digested none of what she was reading. She kept looking at the clock, distracted. Even as it passed five pm, knowing that she was missing the auditions, she still couldn’t focus. And her mood started to plummet.

It plummeted even further as she received a text from Rowan saying that their coach needed him to stay behind for a bit after practice and that he’d be later than anticipated.

She tried to read more, and when that didn’t work, she attempted to do some math equations, but she couldn’t get her brain to work. She knew what she needed. And it was to dance it out. Despite everything, that was still her best coping mechanism. When a second text from Rowan came in, apologizing for being even later, Aelin had had enough. She couldn’t just sit here and wallow. Instead, she wrote a note for whoever would get home first – her dad, Lorcan, or Rowan — and began walking.

She didn’t even know where she was walking until she ended up at the dance studio. It was unlocked, but empty. She couldn’t remember if there had been an end time to the auditions, but it seemed completely deserted. No one was sitting at the front desk, and the lights were eerily dim. This is what she’d expected to walk into last week when she’d stolen back her lacrosse hoodie, and she was even more annoyed about it somehow.

Instead of focusing on that, though, she went straight for the first open studio and turned the lights on. The fluorescent bulbs overhead flickered on, illuminating the wooden floors beneath with a warm yellow glow. She toed her sneakers off and padded barefoot to the corner of the studio where the massive (and ancient) stereo system was stored. She pulled her phone out and connected it, pulling up one of the old playlists Rowan had made for her and closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. Her feet took off, working in sync with the rhythm reverberating through the bare floor. Next, her arms spread, stretching out and shaking off the stress of the last few weeks.

For the first time, she really let herself feel it. The worrying and wondering what the future would hold. She knew Rowan was destined for Wendlyn, but she had no idea what she would do if she didn’t get in, too. He’d assured her that they’d stay together and figure it out, but who really stays with their high school boyfriend? She knew they weren’t like everyone else – they were special – but it didn’t stop her from thinking about it and wondering. When it came down to it, that’s why she really couldn’t bring herself to audition today. She couldn’t risk spending less time with Rowan, not if this was the last few weeks of their relationship.

Whoa. Where did that thought come from?

She ignored the small tear that pooled in the corner of her eye, letting it drip down her cheek as she spun in time with the music. How could she doubt her and Rowan’s relationship after all this time? She knew in her soul that they were destined to be together. She couldn’t imagine a world where she didn’t wake up and see him every day. But there had been a small slice of fear since they first kissed, and it had ebbed and flowed with each passing day until it was now a gaping chasm in the pit of her stomach. The idea that she could end up elsewhere without Rowan was a real, actual problem. And the timeframe was closing in on them. What if this was the end of them? How would she ever recover?

Her hands reached overhead and then she let her body collapse to the floor in a graceful fall, letting go over the overwhelming sensations of fear that had been swirling and threatening to paralyze her. She arched her back and her neck released, the tension that Rowan had tried to knead attempting to relax and letting gravity pull her down, down, down.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Rowan. She did. More than anything. She just didn’t trust this world. She didn’t trust that everything would work out the way it was supposed to. I mean, just look at her dad. He’d thought he’d found the love of his life, and she walked away like it was nothing. Walked away from Aelin.

She didn’t want to cling to Rowan, to be the girl who changed her whole life just to be with a guy. She wasn’t that person. No. She was Aelin fucking Galathynius, and she could live life fully on her own. But she wanted to be with Rowan. Wanted the whole package. Saw their life together. And wanted more than anything for it to become a reality. But what if that future disappeared? What if it was cut short? What if they drifted apart. What if they tried to do long distance? Last summer while he was at camp was only two months and it was pure torture. It caused a rift so big between them that she wasn’t sure they’d overcome it. And yes, of course they did. But… to do it again? And for four years?

Her emotions threatened to choke her as she continued to dance out her frustrations, stomping and spinning and leaping, hoping against all hopes that the answers to her anxieties would appear if she could only dance long enough. She left every feeling, every worry, every gnawing anxiety on the dance floor, letting it tumble out through her moving limbs.

She didn’t know how long she’d been dancing when she opened her eyes again and refocused at herself in the mirror. She didn’t recognize the girl she saw there. She may not have come up with any answers, but she felt better. Raw, red eyed, red cheeked, and breathing hard, Aelin felt totally exposed. Which is why she nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice cut through the silence, over her harsh exhale.

“Practice starts next week.”

The director of the company stood in the darkened doorway of the studio, arms crossed and lips pursed in thoughtful approval.

“Oh, I wasn’t—”

“I know you weren’t,” she said with a formal smile. “But we’d still love to have you. If you want.”

It wasn’t necessarily the answer she had hoped to reach, but something about this moment felt like the universe trying to reassure her. That things do work out the way they’re supposed to.

“Yeah?” she asked, feeling somewhat hopeful.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she said.

A wide smile crossed the director’s face. “Welcome to the Orynth Dance Company,” she congratulated her.

Aelin didn’t know what had overcome her, but she couldn’t help but run over to her and throw her sweaty arms around her neck in a giant hug.

“Thank you.”

Right on cue, Aelin’s phone buzzed with another incoming text.

Cheeseburgers en route. See you soon. Xx

. . .

As anticipated, the cheeseburgers were exactly what Aelin needed to rejuvenate herself, but Rowan was totally right that there was no way to be sexy after housing a half pound of meat and cheese.

“I’m so stuffed,” she said, patting her extremely full stomach.

Rowan snorted. “Why don’t we take a post-dinner break and watch something?”

“Only if it’s Housewives!” Lorcan shouted from the kitchen where he was cooking dinner for him and Rhoe, who were properly affronted that Rowan hadn’t brought them cheeseburgers, as well.

Aelin sighed and chuckled softly as she let herself slump over onto Rowan, who was already pulling up Housewives onto the television.

“You are such an enabler,” Aelin laughed.

“It’s easier than dealing with him being pouty,” Rowan smartly replied.

Aelin was about to agree when they were interrupted by an unusual ring tone.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan said, sitting up suddenly. “Is that your… home phone?”

Aelin genuinely couldn’t remember the last time that had rung. Usually she and her dad were both contacted on their cells. They really just had a home line because it was part of their internet package. She couldn’t even remember who had that number.

“Uh, phone’s for you Aelin?” Lorcan shouted from the kitchen.

Even weirder?

“Who the hell would be calling this late on a Tuesday?” Aelin whispered. Rowan’s brow lifted.

“Why don’t you go see?”

Curious, Aelin pried herself off the couch and headed to the kitchen where Lorcan was standing with a spatula in one hand and the phone in the other.

“Who is it?” she whispered.

Lorcan shrugged, simply shoving the phone forward. Helpful.

Aelin cradled the phone against her ear and took a deep breath. “Hello?”

“Hello!” A deep voice rang out over the phone. “Is this Miss Aelin Galathynius?”

“Um,” she cleared her throat. “Yes?”

“Excellent!” the voice boomed, causing her to pull the phone away from her ear slightly. “My name is Xavier Forul, and I’m a local alum of Wendlyn University. I’d love to have you in for an interview some time in the near future. Whenever you’re available! I know you’re a busy senior with a lot on her plate.”

Aelin’s heart took off, beating faster as his words unfolded.

“Interview?”

“Yes,” he continued. “It’s my favorite part of the process. As a former Wendlyn man myself, I get to sit down and speak with young promising applicants to see what their goals and ambitions might be and how they might become part of the Wendlyn world.”

Aelin glanced at the silver-headed mop peeking out above the couch and exhaled slowly. This was it. The universe reassuring her. She felt it with every fiber of her being. She could dance, she could nail her classes this semester, and she’d get into Wendlyn and be with Rowan.

“Wow, thank you so much for reaching out,” Aelin began, her autopilot pilot voice taking over. “I’d love to meet with you.”

As Xavier explained the details of the interview, Aelin’s hope buoyed. She’d been waiting for a sign from the universe, something to tell her that she and Rowan were going to work out and be fine. If a personalized phone call on a landline that hadn’t rung in more months than she could count, inviting her into the home of a University alum wasn’t a sign, she didn’t know what was. And Aelin began to hope for the first time that everything was going to actually work out.

~*~

#idwtw #idwtw au #rowaelin #rowaelin fan fic #rowaelin fic #tog fanfic #throne of glass #rowan x aelin #she's backkkk #i stg i'm finishing this fic #no fic left unfinished

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foreverfallingforthestars · 1 year

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Photos

Word Count: 242

AU: Modern

Read on AO3 here

Masterlist

“How dare my brain do this to me?” Aelin whined, letting her body fall back onto her bed in starfish form and letting the phone fall out of her hand onto the bed.

“To be fair, you did drink a shit ton,” Lysandra responded with a loud laugh, the sound exacerbating her headache, as she picked up Aelin’s phone again and zoomed in on the picture, turning the phone in different angles to figure out who it was on her screen.

“Oh stop that,” Aelin snapped, taking the phone back and proceeding to do the exact same thing.

She could not believe that she had managed to kiss a guy, take a picture, and forget about it.

The photo was taken in selfie mode - Aelin’s hand far up in the air to make sure both of them were caught in frame. Her eyes were open, a bright smile on her face as a man leaned in towards her. All you could really see was the back of his head and just barely the side of his jawline, but it was enough to see that he looked like he was mid-laugh as his lips were basically on top of hers. His silver hair and the black tattoo swirls peeking out from under his navy button up shirt was really doing things to her.

He was quite possibly the most attractive man she had ever met.

And he was a complete and utter stranger.

~~~~~

Was entirely inspired by a tiktok I saw but I loved the idea of this happening hahah

Taglist: @thegreyj @backtobl4ck @leiawritesstories

#aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #tog fic #throne of glass #throne of glass fics #lysandra

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danikamariewrites · 11 months

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Masterlist

Here’s my masterlist! I will try to keep it updated as I post fics.

My request are currently open

Some of the fics I write are NSFW and mature content so 18+ only on my blog please!

I’m also taking commissions! You can find more info and the price guide here

ACOTAR Masterlist

Throne of Glass Masterlist

Crescent City Masterlist

Fourth Wing Masterlist

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throneofsapphics · 4 months

Text

old faces, part 9

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again, and deal with the fall-out of your secret

Warnings: brief mentions of difficult pregnancy/birth, drinking, mentions of death

Word Count: ~5.8k

A/N: sorry this one took so long!

series masterlist

Rowan looked for Aelin on instinct, wondering if she’d seen the same thing. On the other side of the ballroom, there was no inclination that she saw a thing. Should he tell her? Maybe.

A thousand emotions flooded through him; jealousy, hurt, betrayal, confusion, all surpassed by the desire to storm out of there and drag you far, far away from her. At least he had enough self-control to reign himself in. You were well within your rights to … be with whoever you wanted, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Aelin met his eyes. What is it?

A brief shake of his head, and she frowned - her expression telling him they’d be talking about it later, but dropped it. There’s a time and a place, and now certainly isn’t it.

Still, he couldn’t stop his own mind from wandering. Where the hell do they go from here?

He knows better than to think you were doing this to get their attention, but part of him wished you were. At least he’d know then that you wanted them. If anything, you were doing it to put some space between the three of you.

Was he going to fight for you this time? Did you want him to? Rowan was a tad ashamed he didn’t know the answer.

You ran a finger over your lips. They were bruised but not from who you really wanted.

You did this. Took the small blossom of hope, and crushed it. The small spark of happiness terrified you enough you had to destroy it. You didn’t belong to them, and you knew that, but any chances of it repeating itself were gone. It would’ve ended in flames anyway. This was you protecting yourself.

The more you played with the thought in your mind, letting it repeat itself until the words sounded strange, the less you believed it.

Maybe everyone would hate you, and maybe you’d deserve it. Space. You needed to put distance between yourself and the others. It was for the better, of course. Maybe Rowan and Aelin would never speak to you again beyond what was necessary. Sure, it would hurt, but less than having your heart ripped out.

Coward.

Pressing your forehead against the stone, steadying your breathing, you tried to get the word out of your mind, tried to clear your head of any thoughts. It didn’t work.

Running your hands over the gauzy fabric of your dress, you straightened it enough to look presentable. Rolling your shoulders, twisting your neck until you felt a rather satisfying pop, you put one foot in front of the other, the only goal making it to your rooms. At least Ceri was spending the night with Evangeline.

Hopefully nobody would comment on your early exit. You didn’t care. Right now, you needed to get the hell away from there, drink some water, and sleep this off. What are the odds you could avoid this for the next week? Part of you tried to convince yourself you were making a big deal out of something inconsequential, and that they might not have noticed. Sleep came easier than it should’ve, but you took the small win where you could.

A small buzzing sound woke you, and you darted upright in bed, eyes alert and scanning. You relaxed at the hauntingly familiar magic, before memories of the previous night woke you and you tensed again, every muscle locking and on alert.

It’s too damn early for this.

Glancing at the window, the sun had just begun to peak over the horizon.

Swinging your legs over, feet hitting the soft carpet, you snatched a robe and wrapped it around yourself. Despite springtime, an early chill still set in. The sounds of fire crackling hit you, the small wave of magic comforting of all things. Breathing in through your nose, out through your mouth, you strided for the door, hoping your posture portrayed some semblance of confidence.

“You’re up awfully early,” you commented. Aelin groaned, sprawled out over your couch, arm covering her eyes as if the faint light pained her. Rowan leaned against the wall next to the fireplace. He was tense, she was relaxed. One of them knew.

Tea. Tea first.

Wordlessly, you blew past them towards the small stove and kettle, busying your hands. Three mugs.

Minutes later, you handed one to Aelin, an appreciative smile crossing her face, before her nostrils flared.

“I thought I saw you dancing with a witch,” she huffed. There was nothing … accusatory in her voice. You forced a smile onto your face.

“Your eyes are still working.”

“More than dance.”

You might kill Rowan later. Aelin’s head tilted, gaze darting from you to Rowan, but you took a few steps away, hands clenching the mug, chin tilting up, focusing on the male, eyes glittering with defiance.

A shrug of your shoulders, and you took your place at your favorite armchair.

The flash of anger in Rowan’s eyes amused you. He came here for a fight, but he wouldn’t get one out of you. Had he spied on you last night? Followed you out to the garden?

Despite the drunken turmoil raging in your mind last night, your head had cleared and you knew a few things; you’d done nothing wrong, and you didn’t answer to them.

Aelin straightened, “what do you mean more?”

She looked at you for an answer. On one side, you could let them make their own assumptions, or you could tell them what happened in plain words. You didn’t get the chance.

In a blink, Rowan was in front of you, his hands gripping your forearms, mug clattering to the floor. One hand twined in the back of your hair, tugging your lips to his. His kiss is brutal - claiming, consuming, and territorial. The last thought sealed it for you.

You don’t belong to anyone,’ Fenrys’s words popped into your mind, and you ignored the irony of thinking about him when Rowan’s lips are on your own. Shoving his chest, you managed to push yourself a few steps back, he didn’t budge one inch.

“What is your problem?” Your breathing was heavy, lips already bruised.

“You’re my problem.”

“Oh,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the faint buzzing in your ears, “that’s what every female wants to hear.”

His hand gripped your arm again, “what do you want to hear?” A brief pause, and his mouth opened as if he was going to say something else, but the door flung open.

“Thought I might find you in here,” Lysandra chirps and strolls into the room - either oblivious to the situation, or purposefully ignoring it. Rowan took a step back, eyes still narrowed on you. “The girls are still asleep,” Lysandra continued, striding for the couch Aelin was currently occupying, shoving her friends' legs aside and ignoring the snarl that might’ve sent a rational person running. “Did I miss something?” False innocence laced her voice.

When Rowan and Aelin slipped into one of their silent conversations, she shot a wink your way. Because she knew what happened? Or because she’d caught you in a rather … compromising position?

A hiss. You blinked. Halle was winding between your legs - hissing at Rowan. The male broke eye contact with Aelin, glancing at the cat with a stony expression. Hackles still risen, she didn’t back down.

This was too much. Not now, you couldn’t do this now. Standing abruptly, you threw some excuse out before retreating to your bedroom, ignoring the eyes digging into your back. Fur brushed against your calf, and you thanked the Gods for bringing this little creature into your life. It was a strange connection, but you knew she had your back.

“What the hell happened?” Lysandra asked.

Aelin stopped glaring at Rowan long enough to look at her best friend. The shifter raised one brow, and she looked back to her mate.

“What do we tell her?”

“It’s none of her business.” It really isn’t, but she needs someone who’s not him to talk about this with. “Tell her what you want,” Rowan’s eyes conveyed an air of exasperation.

“It’s weird when you do that,” Lysandra commented.

“And you sound like my cousin,” Aelin snapped back, finally breaking her connection with Rowan.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

Aelin huffed and stood, linking her arm through Lysandra’s and dragging the woman with her. Looking over her shoulder, Rowan was staring at your bedroom door.

“Rowan, I’m sure you’re needed somewhere,” she called. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t, but this is the last place he needs to be right now. The three of you need time, and Aelin needs to wake up enough to figure out what the hell happened between last night and the last few minutes. Barely audible footsteps sounded behind them, Rowan slipping out the door right after.

As it shut, magic slammed and barricaded behind her. Dropping Lysandra’s arm, she pivoted to gaze at the door. Locked out. There’s no way she’d get in without your explicit permission - that or one of them tearing down the shields, and gods know how long that could take. Her throat bobbed, and Rowan was glaring at the nearly imperceptible shimmer.

Lysandra’s warm hand closed around her own, “we need to talk,” and led her back to her rooms. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rowan head towards a window.

The conversation with Lysandra left her … reeling. In honesty, Aelin didn’t know what to think of the situation. Blindsided, yes, but was it really a betrayal If you weren’t with them? You were well in your rights to fuck whoever you wanted, but she still felt a bit hurt, maybe like she wasn’t enough.

Aelin hadn’t dealt with this kind of insecurity ever, or at least since she can remember.

Combined with Rowan’s little show, and your reaction, this was a mess, and that’s what she was trying to avoid. She didn’t like to admit it, but Rowan knew you better, he’d have an idea of what the hell that was about - if it was anything - once he had time to calm down. Then again … you hadn’t exactly reacted well to him. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the golden strands. This was not how she thought her morning would go.

The timing was inconvenient. Glancing at the clock, it was nearly noon. Tomorrow morning, negotiations and meetings would start, and there certainly wouldn’t be any time to discuss this or figure out where they stood with you throughout the week.

Rowan’s magic hit her a second before the door swung open. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was still pissed. Sure enough, pine green eyes were filled with ire. Sitting next to her, he braced his forearms on his thighs, gaze fixed on the wall ahead of them.

“Are we going to talk about it?” She studied his profile. Clenched jaw, narrowed eyes, chest rising and falling at a too perfect rhythm.

“She’s a coward.”

That, she didn’t expect.

“Explain,” Aelin prompted. He looked at her, as if to eyes saying ‘isn’t it obvious?’, she ignored and waited for him to speak.

“She’s scared.”

The clipped answers weren’t going to cut it this time. “Actually explain it,” she didn’t bother keeping the annoyance out of her voice.

“She’s scared of getting close again. Too damn independent and stubborn to admit she actually wants us.”

“I want it,” you admitted to Fenrys, “but it’s not going to end well. I can’t put myself through that.”

“You haven’t actually tried,” he was trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice, and you appreciated the effort - even if it fell flat.

As if he knew you were brooding, he’d shown up and banged on your bedroom door until you came out.

Pausing for a moment, you replayed the events of the previous night in your head.

‘Remember to have fun. Remember you don’t belong to anyone,’ Fenrys looped his arm through yours.

“I should blame this on you,” you jabbed an elbow into his side. His shoulders rose and fell. “You’re the one who’s trying to stir something up.”

A half smirk on his face, but you knew he wouldn’t actually admit it - not yet. Out of character for the asshole, he was waiting for you to keep speaking.

“Is it immature if I avoid them until the week is over?” You finally asked.

“Maybe,” a trace of amusement found its way into his voice.

“He told me I'm his problem,” you huffed. A problem is the last thing you wanted to be.

“It’s not the way you think,” Fenrys snorted. This morning, all Rowan did was make it obvious he either wants you or thinks he has some kind of claim over you. Aelin … you weren’t really certain where she stood, or if she actually knew what happened last night. You assumed she does by now. Assumed that Rowan’s relayed the events in the worst possible way. It had been a few hours, you took the time to try and compose yourself, to calm your racing mind - it didn’t work well, and Fenrys showed up to get the full scoop from last night. To your surprise, he hadn’t known anything, but you were in the mood to talk so you’d relayed the whole story.

He, Evangeline, and Ceri were currently the only people your wards allowed through without your approval.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to explain?” He followed up.

“No. You’ll do it anyway.”

A small buzzing sound told you someone was nearby. Jasmine and lemon verbena hit a moment later. Alone. Just Aelin.

There wasn’t any point in trying to keep her out, and you bent the magic enough to let her through. There was no hesitation as the door swung open and she strode through. Like she would’ve on any other day. Like you hadn’t just shut them out for the first time in months. Not that you were searching for one, definitely not.

One pointed look from her, and Fenrys left, sending a wince your way. That should’ve been enough of a warning sign. She settled on a chair across from you, looking every bit a Queen. Halle jumped up from your lap, crouching in front of your feet instead, tail swishing back and forth, hitting your ankles with each pass. Effectively, she’d put herself between the two of you. A barrier. It unnerved you, that your cat thought they might be some kind of threat. Aelin glanced at her, holding the cat’s gaze for a moment, before her eyes returned to you.

“Is this a joke to you?”

“Excuse me,” you straightened, spine stiffening.

“The way we feel about you. We’ve made it obvious. Tell me now if it is, I don’t like being made a fool.” There was a coldness in her, a sharpness in her tone you hadn’t heard directed at you.

The easy thing to do would be to cow, to bend, to appease, but you were sick of doing that.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” you kept a quiet confidence in your voice, somehow meeting her eyes.

“Is this some kind of test?” You’d always been good at reading people, and those years of observation came through. Aelin was hurt, yes, but there was a tinge of insecurity.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

Honesty, honesty, honesty, you chanted in your mind.

“This won’t end well,” you swallowed, “and I can’t put myself through that.”

A harsh laugh. “You haven’t even tried. We haven’t tried,” Aelin ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it. “Maybe Rowan’s right about you being a coward.”

This time, you laughed - the sound harsh to your ears. Not a laugh of joy - of disbelief. She’d been paying attention to Rowan, then. Figuring out exactly what words would get a reaction out of you, would light a fire under your ass. Halle hadn’t reacted, and maybe it made you insane but you knew you were still safe somehow - that even your cat was still weighing the situation.

“I prefer to call it self-preservation,” you said coolly, even as anger rose in you. Her eyes flashed, mouth turning up at one corner, gone before you could fully register it. She knew what was brewing in you, even as you tried to hide it.

“Why are you fighting it?”

Aelin was good. Her questions and words threw you off, darting in different directions and testing different angels. A dormant part of you stirred, thrilled at the challenge.

“It’s not that easy.”

“We want you, you want us,” she countered. “That’s pretty simple to me.”

You shook your head.

“Is it what others think?” Aelin prompted, her expression told you she’d have choice words or flames for anyone who tried to judge.

“It’s not,” you admitted. She watched expectantly, waiting for you to explain.

In that moment, you realized something crucial. Aelin was fighting for you.

Embarrassingly, you burst into fucking tears.

Just as Aelin thought you might finally explain what the hell was going through your mind, just as she saw the cracks form, you started crying and they crumbled.

Without thinking, she instantly rose, making her way across the room, one eye on your cat. When she wasn’t attacked, she pressed herself against your side, arms wrapping around your shoulders and tugging you into her. Halle padded off, and maybe she needed more caffeine, because she could’ve sworn the cat disappeared into the shadows.

Was it something she said? The ‘coward’ comment was a bit harsh, and not entirely true, but she didn’t think that was it. These didn’t seem like tears of rage or sadness. Not knowing set her on edge, and all she wanted was to start pestering you for answers, but a semblance of awareness kept her mouth shut, and kept her arms around you. Right now, even with the mess, you were leaning into her, trusting her, letting yourself get whatever release this was, and she’d take it.

One arm around your shoulders, your head buried into her side, fingers running through your hair, she waited until the tears subsided, and then a while longer before speaking.

“What was that about?”

You hesitated, and she watched you weigh your answer.. She’d know if you were lying, and mentally begged for you to tell her the truth.

“I could be wrong,” you kept your voice barely above a whisper, “but it seems like you’re fighting for me.”

Her hand stilled, before she moved enough to see your face. Tears still staining your face, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, she’d never seen you look this vulnerable. “Of course I am.”

In that moment, Aelin realized something crucial. Rowan hadn’t fought for you, and whether you knew it or not it was still stuck in your subconscious, still keeping you from diving into this. This wasn’t simple, not at all, but she doubted she could get the two of you to come to a consensus by the end of the day. A truce. There needed to be some kind of middle ground, or mutual understanding - something to keep everything at bay for now.

“It’s not simple,” Aelin said, feeling more than hearing you stifle laughter. Ignoring the satisfaction currently rolling off you in waves, she continued “We want you, you want us,” you stiffened, but didn’t pull away. “There’s not enough time to figure this out today.” She ran her thumb back and forth over your shoulder, the fabric thin enough she felt the heat of your skin.

“There’s not,” you replied, slowly.

“What if we leave it at that, and promise to talk about it after the week is over?”

You were quiet, long enough she began to doubt herself. Gods, you might be the only person who could drag out this kind of uncertainty in her and she might start cursing you for it.

“Alright … just keep the territorial fae bullshit at bay.”

A genuine laugh came right from her chest. That second portion was definitely intended to reach Rowan’s ears, and she’d take great pleasure in relaying the message word for word. Messenger. Not a role she’d take on permanently, but she’d do it for now to keep the peace. Based on this morning’s interaction, Aelin got the sense it was better for you and Rowan to wait until after the week’s over to talk any of this through.

Arrangements had already been made for Ceri to stay in the castle throughout the week. You’d refused, and were grateful for it. Space was good, even if you’d come to some kind of understanding with Aelin. After the week, you wouldn’t just roll over on your belly for them. Nothing would bloom overnight, you’d take the time and test if it might actually work, and trust your gut. The three of you were immortal, time was plentiful

Rowan’s reaction - even if it was hot, even if you’d replayed the moment in your mind a few times, still pissed you off. The two of you needed time to cool your heads, to breathe, and Aelin had picked up on that. Ideally, it would’ve been just two or three days, but circumstances prevented that. Hopefully, your advisor role would keep you busy enough throughout the week to keep your mind off of them, or at least to provide a bit of distraction. Gods know you need that right now for your sanity..

You’d already told Ceri you’d see her tomorrow, and she’d gone off with Aelin and Rowan for ‘royal duties.’ You didn’t envy her.

Hands braced on your balcony, you saw the city bustling with excitement. After mid-day, several members of the foreign delegations took to the streets, and markets were in full bloom to sell their wares. You wondered if any of your items would make it into foreign hands. Shaking the thought, you debated whether or not you’d actually make the walk through the city.

The last thing you wanted right now was to run into anyone you might know from your past, and although you hadn’t spotted anyone last night, you’d been regretfully distracted.

Taking a few back passages, you made your way to a shadowed corner on the first floor before shifting. This was a risk on its own, especially if you ran into anyone from the southern continent, but, you’d move quicker this way.

Stretching, you tested out the form. It had been a while since you’d shifted. Maybe a week or two. Feline senses were sharper, emotions were clear and simple, and you embraced it.

Blending into the shadows, not a soul recognized you as you made your way through the city. Thanks to the strange magic, the normal half hour walk - likely closer to three quarters an hour with the crowd, took about ten minutes. You spent the rest of the day touching up on notes, rearranging your books, and mentally running through questions you might be asked, before falling into an uneasy sleep.

Day one, you were summoned twice.

Day two, the Court predicted you’d be called in several times - so you’d shown up at the castle to wait around. Better than making the walk back and forth. Sure enough, you were called into several that day, speaking to so many people your mind was frazzled by the end, and after a glass of wine you fell into an easy sleep.

Day three, you only came around midday to check in on Ceri, but an old face caught up with you.

“Y/n,” a gentle but firm voice called as you attempted to retreat down the hall. It was … familiar.

Pasting an ease-going smile on your face, you turned back to see Yrene Towers - now Yrene Westfall.

“Hello,” you called - the smile turning genuine. You wondered if she remembered you, and part of you hoped she didn’t. She’d delivered your child after all, and that had been traumatic enough to keep you from ever getting pregnant again. Fae births were notoriously difficult, and you were no exception.

Her husband was a few feet behind, eyeing you warily, as she closed the distance.

“You’re doing well,” she paused a few feet ahead. She did remember.

“Much thanks to you,” you admitted.

“I was quite junior back then,” her mouth turned up at the corner, and she cleared her throat. “I met your … cat, the other day.”

It was a lot of effort to keep yourself still, to keep your reactions schooled pleasant. “Halle.”

She smiled. “How did she end up here?”

Of course she’d know Halle was part baast-cat, and be curious about it. They rarely ever left the Torre library, as far as you knew, or mixed with other cats.

“She showed up one day.” The truth sounded quite ridiculous coming from your lips. Her brows rose. “It surprised me.”

She nodded, more to herself. At least she believed you.

“How do you find Terrasen?”

“I love it here, even with the weather.”

A laugh left her, and you found yourself smiling. You’d seen the healer several times when she still lived in Antica, and she was always kind. If you guessed correctly, you’d arrived around the same time.

“Years later, even Adarlan feels freezing.”

“Compared to Antica, everywhere is.”

You fell into easy conversation, reminiscence. It didn’t draw any homesickness for you. Maybe a desire to visit again, but not to move back there. Should it have? That was a question to ponder later. The longer the conversation went on, the more discomfort settled in you. The questions and direction turned more personal. Not too invasive, or rude by social standards, but you’d always been a particularly private person for a reason.

Footsteps, quiet your company didn’t notice, and your eyes flicked behind her, finding Aedion striding up the corridor, and he met your eyes, a brief nod.

“Y/n,” he called as he got closer. “You’re wanted.”

Teeth tugged at your bottom lip, fighting back a snarky remark. “It was good to see you,” you told her, nodding towards Chaol, and stepped around them, Aedion falling into step beside you.

“Wanted by who?” You waited until you were out of human hearing range.

“By many, I'm sure.” He grinned at your glare. “You just looked like you needed a rescue.”

Chuckling, you ran your hand down your face, relieved there wasn’t actually anyone requesting you, and grateful he’d shown up. “Thank you.”

“Everything alright?”

“Just a lot of questions,” you muttered.

Aedion snorted, “I thought you’d be used to that by now,” and ignored the jab of your elbow. Yes, you’d been grilled during every meeting, but that was different. Actually, you’d enjoyed it - sharing your knowledge. Personal questions were different.

Voices came, speaking Halha, nearly rounding the corner - several paces down but they’d see you in moments. Gods, that’s the last thing you need.

Aedion grabbed the crook of your elbow, shoving the two of you through a door you hadn’t seen, right into a servants passage. A hand over your mouth muffled your own squeak of surprise. He jerked his head, and you followed him - cobwebs in some of the corners. Apparently this one hadn’t been used in quite some time.

“I know this castle well,” he said, taking a left. “Not many use this passage anymore. Or know it exists.” Based on the thick layer of dust, it had probably been a few years since anyone walked through here. “I trust you to keep the secret,” a half-smile sent your way, over his shoulder.

It didn’t come out quite like a threat, maybe more of a warning. Not many know of it, and he’d like to keep it that way.

“I’ll keep it to myself,” you promised, but knew you’d be back to explore through them another time. Nothing about the promise said you couldn’t go back.

“I’m ready for this week to be over,” Aedion admitted, holding the door open for you, exiting close to one of the private gardens, right near the back of the castle.

“So am I,” you added absentmindedly. Not really, you really weren’t. The end of this week meant you’d be facing a different type of meeting - one you were still wholly unprepared for, despite writing lists of the things you want to say. The hardest part would be sticking to your boundaries, but with the help of your lists and maybe some liquid courage you could do it.

The week was nearly over before you knew it, the second to last day arrived and everything went too smoothly, and you felt like you were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“May I speak with you?” A male with soft brown eyes, tanned skin, and light hair asked politely.

“Of course,” you tried not to grimace, the morning hadn’t gotten off to a great start. This was your job, after all, to answer any kind of questions that might pop up. He tilted his head to the side, motioning towards a more secluded area - a garden. Against better judgment, you followed. Once you were partially obscured from view, he stopped. Too hidden. The hair on the back of your neck rose.

He shifted from one foot to the other, glancing up at the sky. Annoyed, you pursed your lips - ready to ask what the fuck he wanted (you’d spilt your tea this morning and not had time to make another cup), but his mouth opened.

“You are quite difficult to find,” his smile wasn’t genuine, nor was the statement entirely true.

“I’m always here,” you countered, not bothering to hide the snappish tone You’ve been ‘on-call’ this entire week.

“Well, to find alone,” he corrected, both hands up in a placating gesture, “not in a creepy way, I promise.”

Bullshit. You’d bet gold he hoped that was a reassuring or disarming smile. His nostrils flared when you didn’t reply to him, didn’t assure him you found it perfectly normal - you didn’t, and placating a male wasn’t on your to-do list for the day.

“There’s an artifact we’re looking to track down, we could use your expertise.”

This quickly treaded into dangerous territory, and he had a glint in his eyes. The male was Akkadian, a nation that used to ally closely with Maeve. The fact that they had a delegation here, told you they weren’t a large threat to Terrasen, but everything about this situation felt wrong.

Every warning sense inside of you flared, telling you you shouldn’t be alone with him, shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t entertain this. Your magic subtly tested the area, and felt no-one familiar nearby. Fuck. You were capable on your own, but a likely centuries old Fae warrior was before you.

“I’m afraid that’s not in my skill set,” you said, “but I’d be happy to guide you towards some resources.”

“I thought it was in your blood,” his mouth curved into a half-smile - like he thought he’d trapped you somehow.“ I’d recognize one of you anywhere.”

Like an actor slipping into a role, you let puzzlement fill your features, “I beg your pardon?”

He pinned a look with you, like you were being annoyingly obtuse. He wasn’t wrong, but you wouldn’t let him get away with vague statements or threats.

“One of your ancestors' creations,” the way he said the word stiffened your spine, “is in circulation, causing some problems.”

“Consequences can pass through time and generations,” he said quietly, poking at the fire. “If someone seeks you out, asks you to find or create something, treat it with caution.” The words seemed to pain him. “Not all will have bad intentions, but even the best intentions can be skewed by greed.” He reached into his pack, flipping a dagger so the hilt faced you, and pressed it into your palm. You felt the magic immediately, and your jaw dropped. The runes and wyrdmarks were intricate. “Here’s a new lesson,” you perked up. “Take that, make it so only you can use it properly.”

“Thank you,” it was a gift - really, that he trusted you with the object.

“If you find another,” a creased but strong hand gripped yours tightly, you fought back a wince. “Promise me you’ll destroy it.”

Gripping the hilt tightly, feeling the magic flow again, a shiver ran down your spine and you swore an oath you would. Relief flooded his features.

Blinking back to the present, he had an expectant look on his face. Instinct told you he wanted this personally. If it was a state matter, there would’ve been others here to discuss it. Sure, you’d like more details, to ask more probing questions, but that would give you away. Right now, he was looking for confirmation and you couldn’t give that. A small thread tugged at you, a female voice whispering in your ear, leave.

“I don’t know what you’re speaking of,” not a lie - you really didn’t, “but as I said, I’d be happy to guide you towards some resources.” His lip curled back, but you didn’t give him a chance to reply. “I’m expected,” your voice was confident and firm. “Let me know if you’d like me to put some notes together.”

You stepped around him, striding as quickly as you could without running. Maybe you’d taken him by surprise, because several seconds passed before you heard footsteps following.

Taking a sharp turn, you shifted and melted into the shadows.

Weaving through corridors, you found no peace until you had eyes on Ceri, finding Halle already curled next to her, eyes alert. The clock struck noon, and you watched a few more seconds - taking notes of the guards in presence, the sense of danger and panic ebbing away, before heading to the meeting you were now late for.

Vastly out of character, you’d shown up a few minutes after the intended starting time. Others were late, of course, but as long as he’d known you you’d always been early. Face pale and drawn, Rowan knew something was wrong. Scanning you, there weren’t any physical injuries. You were avoiding his gaze, not that you’d done much looking at each other throughout the week, but now it felt especially pointed.

Someone drew you into conversation, and he watched as a mask slid into place, few others would notice something was actually wrong. He nearly snarled at Fenrys when he tapped his shoulder, but the other male jerked his head towards the meeting room. At least you’d be in this one, where he could keep a discreet eye on you.

“Make sure y/n doesn’t leave after, something’s wrong,” he told Fenrys under his breath, an order.

The male stiffened next to him, and nodded. He watched onyx eyes trail over to you, before narrowing. You two had an easy-going friendship, and Rowan knew Fenrys was protective over you, just as you were over him. He hated it, but Fenrys was the best person to find out what’s actually wrong.

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#rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #throne of glass fic #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #throne of glass x reader #rowan whitethorn x y/n #aelin galathynius x y/n

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shadowdaddies · 3 months

Text

Reunited - Part III

Fenrys x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

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

A/N: for those whom I told the next parts would be less angsty... that doesn't refer to this one I'm so sorry

Warnings: canon-typical violence, KOA spoilers

Your muscles were heavy from peaceful sleep, a satisfied smile gracing your lips as eyes fluttered open to see Aedion and Gavriel standing at the opposite side of the room from where you lay.

Forcing yourself to sit up, you looked around to find yourself in a tent, piles of blankets and furs draped over where you had been sleeping on the ground.

“She’ll be furious with you,” Aedion whispered, seemingly unaware that you had awoken. “But I thank you,” he ground out, the resistance clear in his tone as he looked to your father.

Gavriel’s tawny eyes flicked to you, lined with sorrow as memories came rushing back. Your entire body heated with pure rage and fear, nails clawing into the covers of your makeshift bed as you tossed the covers away.

“You,” you seethed, eyes wide and teeth bared as you stood to face Gavriel. It was Aedion who stepped between you, his eyes showing a vulnerability you had yet to see him reveal in front of your father.

“I know you are upset. But for once,” he glanced pointedly at Gavriel, “he did the right thing. No good could have come from Maeve knowing that you are Fenrys’s mate.”

Hearing his name unleashed a wave of emotion, a lump catching in your throat as the bond screamed inside of you, longing for your other half. “He’s gone,” you whispered, voice breaking as painful, hopeless thoughts eddied in a whirlpool, threatening to drown you. “I may never truly know my mate, because of you,” you growled the last word, tone piercing Gavriel enough to make him flinch.

Aedion fully stepped in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks, covering your father from your view. “Listen to me. Maeve would have used you to torture him. She would have used you to torture Aelin. Saving him was not an option when he is so close to Maeve. Their blood oath is too strong.”

Your eyes shuttered as the hopeless realization crashed over you like an ocean wave knocking you below the surface. You stepped back, willing your thoughts to calm enough to look at Gavriel’s face, his expression full of guilt and worry. “I swear to you, we will find him. We will free him, if it is the last thing that I do.” He spoke with such conviction, you felt your heart soften, suddenly feeling guilty for how you had spoken to Gavriel.

Before you could find the words to apologize, Gavriel continued. “That is why we are headed north. Aedion leaves for Orynth shortly, but we will be joining Rowan along with Lorcan and Elide. So long as you feel that bond in your chest, we can use it to find Fenrys and Aelin.”

You nodded, shifting into the familiar mindset of a spy as you had lived for so long. “When do we leave?”

A soft, proud smile graced Aedion’s lips, your brother pulling you in for a hug as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I leave now. I had just come to say goodbye,” he murmured. It was an all too familiar sentiment in your family - the sacrifice of leaving your loved ones in the name of duty.

“Stay safe. I will see you soon,” you responded, not an encouragement, but an oath - one that you clung to, your chest tight as your brother disappeared out the tent. Gaze flicking to Gavriel, you raised your eyebrows in silent question.

“We leave as soon as Rowan returns from the neighboring town. He and Elide are there looking for information from the locals, and we will decide where to travel from there.” All you could manage was a nod, your emotions still roiling deep within underneath your calm facade.

You packed in silence, Gavriel’s stare burning into your side as you avoided interaction. You had just finished packing and dismantling your tent when Rowan and Elide returned, their eyes lit with a similar wired determination as your own.

Pine green eyes locked with yours, an unspoken understanding passing between you and Rowan - that the two of you would allow the world to burn to ash before you would allow it to take your mates.

“We’re leaving for Doranelle,” Rowan announced, brooking no room for questions before he helped load your and Elide’s bags onto horses. Giving Rowan a sharp nod, you followed suit, gathering necessities for the journey.

The dying embers of the campfire the only trace of your existence in the forest, your group headed for Doranelle, Rowan letting out a cry as he shifted into hawk form, soaring above as you journeyed below. The day passed mostly in silence, tensions thick between you and your father, and Elide and Lorcan.

At your request, Elide explained in brief detail why you were headed towards one of Maeve’s strongholds. She and Rowan had come across one of Maeve’s soldiers at an inn, but the shudder that passed through her when you asked for more told you all that you needed to know about how Rowan acquired that information, and you let the conversation drop.

The sun had long since set when fatigue weighed heavy on your bones, head aching from lack of food and rest. Gavriel sensed it, his too-knowing eyes scanning your sluggish movements, the limp that Elide was trying to hide.

“We will stop here for the night,” he spoke, low voice not allowing any arguments, not that you could form any. You practically crashed into the ground where you stood at his words, Elide settling next to you as Lorcan gathered kindling.

There remained little talk among the group. You couldn’t speak for others, but you knew that if you tried to speak, emotions would burst forth like water through a broken dam, the carefully maintained mask of strength you were wearing to be shattered into pieces. Gavriel, Lorcan, and Elide mumbled their good nights, while you and Rowan sat by the fire.

The twisting, flickering flames held your attention in a captivating dance, the only distraction you could find from the constant agony you felt throughout your body, the unbearable weight of your mate’s pain echoing in each fiber of your soul.

You dared a glance at Rowan, his sharp eyes moving from the fire towards you. You supposed the fire meant something different to him - a reminder of his other half, the closest thing he had to her in this moment. It was a different kind of pain, but one that you could understand as the others did not.

“Do you feel her, too?” you managed, voice cracking through the strained whisper. Rowan’s brow dipped, confusion flickering across his features before understanding settled.

“No,” he choked, and you worried that you had said the wrong thing. “No, I cannot feel her through the bond. I think whatever But I know she is there, she is alive. That much I can feel.” A shaky breath escaped you, eyes lining with silver as you curled into your body, gaze focused back on the flames in front of you.

“Can you? Feel him?” Rowan pressed, voice soft as the night breeze. Your eyes squeezed shut, the only hope you had to keep those tears from falling, but one escaped, cold warm against your chilled skin as it traced your cheek.

“Yes,” you breathed, a sob building in your lungs as you gasped for air. “Yes, I feel everything. I feel his pain, I feel his loneliness, I-“

Words were stolen from your lungs as your chest seized, inexplicable pain, grief, bringing you to your knees. You were vaguely aware of Rowan’s presence, a warm hand on your back as sobs wracked your body. Wave after wave of grief and shame barreled into you, body shaking with the force of emotions being thrust upon you.

“Breathe,” Rowan murmured, his hand on your back a grounding comfort as the emotions faded, a distinct numbness filling your senses. Emptiness consumed your being, the only reminder that you were still alive the flames in front of you.

Silver hair illuminated in the firelight, moving into your vision as Rowan kneeled in front of you. “Can you say... what happened?” he breathed, fear in his eyes as he dared the question.

“He’s not... he isn’t dead,” you managed, the knot in your chest loosening slightly as Rowan visibly relaxed. “Something terrible happened, Rowan. If what I felt was only a small part of what Fenrys is feeling...” Whatever hold you had on your own emotions was lost in that moment, tears falling freely as you cried.

Another hand landed on your shoulder, and you looked up through blurry eyes to see your father watching you, heartbreak written on his features. On instinct, you crashed into him, throwing your arms around Gavriel’s neck, breathing in his comforting scent.

Conversations were happening in the background - Lorcan and Elide apparently also wakened by your cries - but you held onto your father, finding a small piece of solace in having him here.

Gavriel’s hand lifted, a canteen handed to him which he brought to your hands. “Here, drink this,” he murmured, tawny eyes observing carefully as your shaky hands gripped the vessel. Forcing small sips of water down your throat, breathing came easier, and you noticed Rowan, Lorcan, and Elide all standing nearby.

“I’m not going to stay the night,” Rowan said, moving back towards where you sat. “If you want to rest, Gavriel will stay with you and Elide. But if you-“

“I’m going with you,” you interrupted. Rowan merely nodded, as thought your response was exactly what he expected. Lorcan was already moving, packing and loading supplies as Rowan’s power suffocated the fire.

You walked in line with Gavriel, leaves and sticks crunching under your boots as owls hooted against the still-darkened sky. “I can feel him, still,” you murmured, eyes downcast at your scuffed, muddied shoes. “I feel him, but it’s different than before. He’s... hollow. It’s like this numbness, and I can’t reach his end of the bond, so I don’t know if he can feel me.”

Your eyes burned with tears you were too drained to shed when Gavriel grabbed your hand, turning you to stop and look up at him. “Do not give up. I know it hurts, I know what Maeve is capable of. But please, be better than me. Fight for Fenrys. He deserves that. You deserve that. And we will find him, and Aelin.”

Pushing up on your toes, you placed a kiss to your father’s cheek, your eyes never leaving his as you spoke. “You did the right thing. I have already mourned a childhood without you, but I’ve been allowed to know you now, and I am so thankful for a father as selfless as you, who was willing to sacrifice seeing his children grow to keep us safe. You didn’t give up, and I will not either.”

You both turned, heads snapping forward towards the road ahead as Gavriel cleared his throat, eyes shining with emotion as you continued the rest of your walk in silence.

By the time you arrived in Doranelle, your feet hurt like never before, entire body sore from long travels and lack of sleep. Your group hid in the trees just outside the main road through town. Elide turned to you, a fire in her eyes that lit one in your chest.

“The males are too recognizable, so you will all stay out here and keep a low profile while I go into town. I’m going to see if anyone has information about Cairn’s location, because we know he’s with Aelin and Fenrys.”

You shook your head. “I’m coming with you. You’re not going alone into town, and it would be suspicious if you were by yourself.” You looked around, Lorcan giving you a grateful smile while Gavriel opened his mouth as if to argue. Before he could say anything, you took Elide’s hand and set off towards town.

Doranelle was bustling, people shopping and selling throughout the streets, men calling for your attention as the two of you walked at a brisk pace, eyes and ears open for any sign of danger.

Multiple groups of people shuffled in the same direction, your gaze following their movements towards a pub that appeared to be full of travelers and locals alike. “That’s where we should go,” you murmured to Elide, her dark eyes joining yours as she studied the tavern’s entrance.

Releasing your hand, Elide led the way into the building, instructing you to take a seat wherever you could find one as she took the lead. You found a small booth, thankful for the weight off your feet and even the rancid beer a barmaid slid your way.

It was pure entertainment, a respite from the hellish reality you had been living lately, as you watched Elide put on a show of the helpless maiden. Batting her long lashes, giving shy smiles, she wrung any information she could from the tavern’s patrons while you kept watch.

Everyone seemed taken by her story, the heartbroken lover of Maeve’s general, except for one female. She lounged at one of the tables, chestnut brown eyes watching Elide with a keen, quiet interest. And then Elide mentioned Cairn.

A hush fell over the room, the mood instantly sobering at the mention of the newest member of Maeve’s cadre. Expressions turned cold, even sour as people closed themselves off to Elide’s charm. They definitely knew something, and as you watched Elide excuse herself to the washroom, you caught the striking female with chestnut eyes from before stand up quickly, dark brown hair flowing around her as she turned and followed Elide down the hall.

You were quick behind her, dagger sheathed discreetly at your side. Using your blade, you wedged open the door to the washroom to find Elide wide-eyed, tension thick in the air as she and the female stared at each other.

Your blade quickly found the female’s neck, your foot kicking the door shut behind you. “Who are you, and what do you know?” you questioned, voice lethally calm.

The female didn’t struggle, her demeanor relaxed as she spoke. “My name is Essar. I mean no harm - I simply wanted to warn your friend to stay away from Cairn. But it appears she is better protected than I believed.”

Her voice remained calm as she dared to turn towards you, unbothered at how your blade dug further into her skin. “Why do you look for Cairn, truly?”

Your gaze hardened on Essar, assessing the trustworthiness of this new character. “That would depend. What is he to you?” you asked, releasing her so slightly from your hold.

A scoff escaped her lips, nearly a slight laugh as though your question was absurd. “He is nothing to me. And Maeve is less than nothing,” she ground out, venom lacing her tone. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips at her spite.

“We have business to attend to regarding Cairn,” you murmured, gaze flicking towards the door to check it was closed.

A knowing gleam shone in Essar’s eyes. “You have Gavriel’s eyes,” she whispered, clearing her throat as she studied you and Elide. “Cairn is at the camp just north of town. He was seen there this morning.”

It was an effort to not let your surprise show, but somehow you knew that you could trust Essar. Hope sprang in your chest, as though the bond was confirming Fenrys was close. “Thank you,” you murmured, to Essar, hand reaching for the doorknob as you gestured for Elide to follow.

“Give them Hell,” Essar said, chin raised proudly. You gave her a final nod of thanks before slipping out the door. Elide could barely keep up with your pace as you raced through town, back to the edge of the woods where the males waited. Now that you knew where Fenrys was, nothing could hold you back from finding him.

You were both short of breath, struggling to explain all that Essar had shared with you at the tavern. “I believe her,” you said, looking to Rowan and Gavriel for validation. But it was Lorcan whose eyes grew soft as you spoke of the female you had met, the other males looking to Lorcan for only a brief moment before Rowan cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

“We can trust her,” he said. “I’ll take to the skies. You follow my lead - we’ll walk around town to avoid running into Maeve’s soldiers for now.”

Heart pounding in your chest, you watched as Rowan launched into the air, your group quietly following the path of the hawk as it led you around the edge of town. Sounds of soldiers running drills, sparring, blacksmiths at work all filled your ears as rows and rows of tents came into view.

Breath caught in your lungs, the twist of hope and fear electric as it shot through your body. A warm hand wrapped around yours, and you looked down as Gavriel gave it a comforting squeeze. “I am with you,” he whispered.

Words evaded you, but you managed to nod to your father - a silent acknowledgment: "I am with you, too."

Scanning the grounds of the camp, you searched for a way in. There were too many tents, too many places Fenrys and Aelin could be. But your thoughts were interrupted by the bloody cry of a hawk, and before your mind could catch up to your body, you found yourself running, sword drawn, towards the center of camp where Rowan flew.

Soldiers charged you, your adrenaline pumping as you cut them down one by one. Red flooded your gaze as you saw a shell of a female, weighed in familiar iron shackles as she stumbled out of a tent on thin legs.

Blood pounded in your ears, the faint sound of Lorcan yelling at your side all that you could register as Aelin ran towards you. You couldn’t stop the flow of tears as you locked eyes with your cousin through the iron mask she wore, heart somehow shattered and whole at the sight of her, alive yet broken.

“Fenrys,” she choked. “Fenrys!” Aelin’s voice cried. She whipped around like a wild animal caught in a trap, yelling at Rowan and Lorcan, pleading for them to find your mate.

You rose to chase after him, but Rowan’s pleading look settled that rage within you - he would find your mate while you protected his. And so you watched him run through the camp with Lorcan, a beautiful storm of chaos as the warriors partnered seamlessly in battle.

The clanking of chains pulled you from your daze, Aelin scratching at her binds. “Take it off take it off take it OFF,” she screamed, voice hoarse as she chanted violently. Rowan appeared by her side, his hands working as they tried to find an opening on the mask. Rowan.

Your eyes went wild, an unexplainable ache carving itself into your chest as you stood, spinning clumsily while you searched for any sign of Fenrys. The sight of white fur on the ground, Gavriel leaning over the wolf who lay, covered in blood and barely breathing snapped something within you.

As your father gave you a helpless look, the world cleaved in two, as though half of your soul was ripped from your chest. Collapsing to the ground, your hand wove in Fenrys’s fur as onyx eyes gazed at you, unblinking.

There was no room in your heart for more tears at this point. Everything had been taken from you - so you lay there, watching the last hope you had for a future, for love, as he faded away.

You didn’t head the commotion behind you as Rowan managed to break the Wyrd marks locking Aelin’s chains, how she crawled weakly to Fenrys’s side across from you. The words, “live, Fenrys. Live,” echoed through your head, Aelin’s voice like a helpless prayer.

And then he blinked. Gold flecks shone in his eyes, chest rising slowly as your mate released a soft whine. Your heart burst with joy, love pouring from your end of the bond as you were finally able to reach Fenrys.

Your hand reached out to him just as he shifted into his human form, long blonde curls fallen across his beautiful face as he stared at you. “Is this real?” he rasped, and you nodded, a broken laugh escaping as you sat up, pulling Fenrys’s head into your lap as his hands found yours, holding onto them like a lifeline.

“He’s gone,” Fenrys whispered, his gaze distant. You felt it then - the hollow feeling, the numbness you had felt through the bond. “Connall,” he murmured, eyes finding yours as a tear rolled down his cheek, and you understood. Fenrys had lost a part of himself - Maeve had taken so much from your mate.

“I will kill her,” you vowed.

Fenrys’s hand lifted to brush your cheek. “You were my hope. The only strength I found to keep going.”

Taking his hand from your cheek, you pressed a kiss to his palm. Flames danced in your eyes. “For what she did to you, to Connall, to Aelin. She will burn.”

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