#nehemia kin

[mariaofdoranelle]

Stage Kiss

Written for Throne of Glass Microfics

This accidentally ended up the size of two microfics but I’m tagging you if you’ll still have me @throneofglassmicrofics

Prompts: mainly indulge but I ended up using mayhem too

Warning: teenagers

Words: 1,9k 🫣

1st run

Today, at 3:30 p.m., Rowan would kiss Aelin Galathynius on the cheek.

Pathetically enough, this little knowledge was on the forefront of his mind all day. Not his classes, no. Just Aelin’s ivory—occasionally rosy—cheek.

“Whitethorn!” Fenrys shouted in the hallway several steps behind, forcing him to turn and stop so his friend could catch up. “Looking good,” Fen said, playfully slapping the back of his hand against Rowan’s bicep.

Rowan rolled his eyes. He thought that going to the gym every day—plus taking supplements behind his mom’s back—would magically make him more confident. It didn’t. The only difference was that he looked slightly less thin, so now Fenrys occasionally catcalls him and reacts to his IG stories with the flame emoji.

Even worse, Remelle Wiselheade was now hitting on him. His plan to get Aelin’s attention absolutely backfired.

As if he was a mind-reader, Fenrys said, “And how does it feel to be Aelin’s husband?”

Rowan blinked. “Uh…”

“I mean in the play!” Fenrys threw his head back and cackled, then urged them towards the school theater. “Bro, you’re—“

“I obviously knew that!” Rowan said, defensive.

He was just taking theater classes because his mom thought it’d help him with the shyness. But Aelin? Aelin Galathynius could give Margot Robbie a good run for her money—in both talent and beauty.

If enduring his crush on her during classes wasn’t enough, they were acting as husband and wife for this play.

And it required him to kiss her on the cheek.

He was glad that Mr. Emrys, their drama teacher, had a no-kids-kissing-on-stage policy. Rowan was half a lip virgin—that thing with Lyria didn’t count—and while having an almost first kiss with Aelin would’ve been great, he wasn’t looking forward to a very public cardiovascular malfunction.

Once inside, he quickly found her by a wall with Nehemia. Aelin didn’t see him at first, but he slowed his pace to look at her better, making Fenrys—who was right behind him—trip and take Rowan down with him. Not down, since both recovered before falling face-first on the floor, but the whole thing was loud enough that now he had Aelin’s attention. At the worst moment imaginable.

She smiled at him and sent a tiny wave, and by the poorly hidden smirk on Nehemia’s face—very similar to Fenrys’—she must’ve figured out his crush on Aelin. She had to. Nehemia Ytger was one of the smartest people he knew, he just hoped she’d keep her mouth shut for now.

Once everyone gathered around Mr. Emrys and he gave them directions for today, the first rehearsal for Hamlet began.

It passed like a blur until the scene arrived.

[Modified Act 1, Scene 2]

The court gathers. Claudius stands before the throne—simple practice chairs, actually—with Gertrude at his side. Hamlet watches from a distance, looking somber and disapproving.

Rowan didn’t want to read too much into why he learned even the narration. He turned to his “court” and said:

Though my dear brother’s death is fresh in memory, we must also move forward.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Gently holding Aelin’s hand, Rowan swallowed and almost froze when it was time, but her encouraging smile propelled him further.

He might’ve just dipped in and out, but feeling her skin under his lips was the quickest yet longest second of his life.

His cheek kiss was followed by deafening silence. For a second Rowan thought he’d embarrassed himself somehow, until he found everyone staring at Fenrys, waiting for Hamlet.

His friend looked like a deer in the headlights.

“I forgot.”

“A little more than kin, and less than kind, Moonbeam.” Mr. Emrys took a calming breath. “Let’s do another run of this scene, shall we?”

2nd run

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Rowan took Aelin’s hand again. Both experience and her open expression made him kiss her cheek more confidently this time, and he was calm enough to enjoy the moment.

The same awkward silence again.

“Mr. E, I have ADHD,” Fenrys protested, though the twitch in the corners of his mouth betrayed the seriousness. “Don’t you think it’s a bit fascist of you to make me learn all these lines in medieval?”

It’s called ‘Early Modern Common Tongue’, Moonbeam. You’ll learn with practice.” Mr. Emrys settled back into his seat. “Let’s do another run.”

4th run

By now, Rowan was very well practiced in kissing Aelin’s cheek.

Because of the political nature of their characters’ marriage, a greater actor would make Claudius give Gertrude a triumphant look rather than a fond one, but if Mr. Emrys wanted a great actor, he should’ve thought twice before casting Rowan.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

As practiced, he reverently took Aelin’s hand and leaned in for the cheek kiss.

But she turned her head. The spot on her cheek that he focused on became a blur, and before he could grasp the situation, he felt the softness of her lips in his.

An awkward miscalculation on her part.

Or was it?

The way Rowan jerked back in surprise made their peck quicker than the other kisses.

“Whitethorn!” Mr. Emrys called, one finger pointed at him. “That was supposed to be on the cheek, mister.”

He froze, glancing wide-eyed between the teacher and Aelin’s mischievous look. He could protest and clarify that she was the one to incite the kiss, but that would just be loser—worse, virgin—behavior.

Rowan may be both, but he sure wasn’t acting like it.

With the snickers that came from the students, their teacher’s stance relaxed. He slowly shook his head and muttered, “Teenagers,” as a chuckle escaped him.

5th run

Rowan was determined to return Aelin’s peck, which meant that now stakes were higher. This time, he was even more nervous than before the rehearsal started.

She is cute. Rowan really likes her. And she kissed him first.

And this self-pep talk was shit at calming him down.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Instead of holding her hand, Rowan held her jaw instead. By their silent exchange, she had an inkling of what was coming, and her expression seemed welcoming. A quick brush of his thumb as another warning, and he leaned in.

Pillowy soft lips briefly against his was a brief shoot to the skies and back.

It was quick. It was glorious. The sweet, sticky feel of her lipgloss was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“A little more than kind, and—“

“Gods, Fenrys, it’s kin!” Nehemia shouted from the sidelines, distracting the teacher enough to forget about the kiss.

After this, Mr. Emrys stopped complaining—he had bigger battles to fight.

7th run

After their third kiss—plus four on the cheek—Rowan began to wonder if it was too soon for a “What are we?” conversation.

Maybe he should ask her out.

Scratch that, he was absolutely asking her out. If he got rejected, life would go on—after he changed schools.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Rowan stroke her cheek with his thumb and leaned in once again for their peck, but once he did, Aelin threaded her fingers through his hair and kept him there, tilted her head. She waited a second for his response, then retreated once it didn’t come.

Shit. Was this—

With hawk-like speed, Rowan grasped her face with both hands before she could draw back and… well, it was too much of a whirlwind inside his head to make sense of what was going on. All he knew was exploring tongues and her hands on his neck and his heart that threatened to leap out of his throat to interrupt the kiss.

He couldn’t believe he was kissing Aelin Galathynius, and she felt so soft. Soft lips, soft skin, a soft sigh that he felt in areas he’d rather forget to not embarrass himself.

“A little more than kin, and—HOLY SHIT”

The absolute silence turned into mayhem once Fenrys abruptly addressed what was going on. Once he did, the students howled and whistled at them.

However, the only reaction he cared about was Aelin’s, who stared at him with flushed cheeks and wide turquoise eyes that sparkled with something he couldn’t quite place. She giggled and hid it behind her hand, and the sight of her nervous excitement brought a funny feeling to his stomach.

“Okay, that’s enough,” their teacher said to interrupt everyone’s shouts and cheers. “Moonbeam, you’ll arrive with your lines fully memorized next time—this is not a request. Everyone’s dismissed except for Whitethorn and Galathynius.”

The mood immediately sobered as students grabbed their things between whispers. It didn’t affect him like people thought it would, though. Rowan had just kissed Aelin—with tongue. Mr. Emrys could put him in detention ‘til eternity, he didn’t give a fuck.

They got ready to leave along with everyone else, but gathered around the chair their teacher was still on once the theater was empty.

A twitch of Mr. Emry’s lips into a firm line told them he was trying to get into ‘stern teacher’ mode. He’s not really the authoritative type, but they broke the rules, and it was in the job description that he plays a role for discipline’s sake.

“In the script, it says ‘kiss on the cheek’, and I need my actors to do exactly as scripted, okay?”

Rowan and Aelin both muttered their agreements.

“Great. If that—“ Mr. Emrys pointed at the spot their kiss happened. “happens again, I’ll have to take measures all three of us won’t like.”

“We understand.”

“Great.” He said in an upbeat mode, without his ‘stern teacher’ frown, switching back to ‘nice teacher’ mode. “Glad that’s settled. You can go now, but I want you in your best behavior from now on.”

The thing about Mr. Emrys is that he’s a really cool dude. He rarely gets angry at his students, most times it’s an odd sort of fond exasperation. It worked on their favor this time, but Rowan wouldn’t take it for granted.

Outside, Aelin stopped once the door was closed. So did he. The playful flirtation they had during rehearsal was gone, and Rowan was unsure on how to make a move in this awkward silence.

It was now or never, though.

Aelin chuckled and went her way down the hall, which he followed beside her.

“So, that happened.”

He gave her a brief, close-lipped smile. “I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” She swiftly looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Doyouwannagooutsometime?”

Rowan hoped the blood rushing into his cheeks wasn’t visible from outer space.

Aelin had both hands gripping the shoulder straps of her backpack as she fought the corners of her lips from quirking up.

“Sure,” she said. “Do you have something in mind? Because there’s this movie I really wanna watch—”

“We can watch it.”

Aelin bit her bottom lip, eyes brimming with amusement. “I haven’t told you which movie it is yet.”

He tilted his head, silently urging her to give the information.

Please, anything but that gorey demon one he saw last weekend.

“Do you wanna go see Healers vs. Demons?”

“Sounds great,” Rowan half-lied.

Any movie sounded great if it was on his first date with Aelin.

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[firehcart]

She knows what it is to lose everything, even as the words fall from @witch1ing ‘s lips. Her own eyes lift to the skies above out of instinct – but they’re empty, so empty, and she knows before she’s even told, knows what sacrifice has been made, can see the grief on the wyvern before her who cries for kin. A glance at Manon is all it takes for her to know what her heart already tells her to be true. Thirteen. Now dead - and only one to remain.

Hiss of shock leaves her lips for a moment, and where so rarely Aelin is lost for words, she is now. None she can speak will take this away or make this better, that she knows. Her own heart still weighs heavy with the thought of all she’s lost – a list she adds to more frequently than she likes to think.

Her parents. Lady Marion. Nehemia. Gavriel. Sam. The list goes on.

But even then, with all she’s lost, she doesn’t think she can imagine pain like this.

Hand moves now to lay against the shoulder beside her, and though she doesn’t press for more than just that one touch, her fingers squeeze lightly, her eyes flickering before them both, and she speaks softly.

“There will come a time soon where we rebuild the parts of Orynth this battle has broken. When wounds have healed and people have rested.” A moment, now, and Aelin dares the next. “There will be a memorial built for them. All of them. The people of Terrasen will never forget what was lost to defeat Morath.”

A familiar burn to her hues as her own tears threaten to fall, the grief she feels on the other’s behalf – but it’s not hers to feel, and not her pain to take. Pain that must be felt, before even the thought of healing can ever begin.

“We will not forget, Manon. As long as Terrasen stands, we will remember what was given. I promise you that.”

[raineandgeno]

Sooo. I'm Aelin Galathynius from Throne of Glass. I'm looking for the boys™ and Manon, and Nehemia if you're out there. I remember a lot up until Heir of Fire (I havent finished the series--) but I remember marrying Rowan. I don't remember a lot about Lysandra or Manon (sorry-) but I do miss Manon a bit. My discord is Aspen#7905 and yes this is Raine I just cant get onto the tumblr rn. Lol

Raine can’t access tumblr right now so I’m helping her out! 

Please contact Raine’s discord if you’re kin with any of the people she’s looking for! <33 You can also interact with this post!

- Mod GenoNOTE FROM RAINE: I remembered Lysandra :D Miss you girl-

[mayhemories]

Braids & War Paint (Part 9)

Notes On: Part 1: / Part 2: / Part 3: / Part 4: / Part 5: / Part 6: / Part 7: / Part 8: 

Italics is bond talking. 

“Be seen but not heard.” Said Evalin Ashryver, kissing the top of her daughter’s head. Aelin was dressed in various shades of brown for her travels, the track to Ellywe was long and her baby girl was going alone. But if her Fireheart had to leave, if Aelin had a reason for leaving like this, Evalin would support her trek, even if that meant Aelin had to be alone. 

Evalin wasn’t naive, she knew just like the next person what Aelin’s power was like. Evalin knew firsthand how skilled she was with metal and weapons. She could almost feel the presence of the little folk from where they stood. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Aelin smiled. Evalin could see so much of Rhoe in her. “Would you like me to bring you anything?” 

“I think my finger is calling for a new embellishment.” Evalin said, her sad, worried smile didn’t reach her eyes as she made the joke. Aelin will highly likely bring her home a ring. 

“I’ll see you soon.” Aelin said before riding off on Kasida. 

Rhoe’s hand rested on Evalin’s shoulder, it was comforting in the time when Evalin needed it. Like now, when the only thought running around Evalin’s head was that she was a bad mother, letting Aelin leave like that without anyone. 

“Lady Marion said she’ll take Fleetfoot back with her and Elide to Perranth.” Rhoe said, neither of them wanted to move until Aelin was out of sight. 

“What of Aedion and Lyansdra? When do they take leave for Illium?” Evalin asked. She hated when the castle was quiet, hated when her family was gone.

“Tonight.” That meant it would just be Evalin, Rhoe and Orlon. Evalin loved the Galathynius brother’s with all her heart, but Evalin lived for her daughter. 

Aelin hated dust and her arse hurt so much she wanted to scream. She had made it to Rifthold by nightfall. She thanked the gods for her animal form, a human was a good disguise, a buzzard was not. 

Dorian had advised her to stay clear of the Glass Castle. So she had done just that and found an inn. She laid on the stiff matress and thought of her buzzard. If she had planned correctly he would’ve received her hawk by now. She had tried not to think about Dorian’s letter, he had wrote her a frantic message about Wendlyn closing their borders, Doranelle closing all intercontinental shipments. 

She wondered if her dreams weren’t dreams at all but visions or memories from a long time ago. She thought of how her grandmother always blesses her at Yulemas, she thought of Brannon and Elena and Gavin. What did Mala Fire-Bringer think of her? What did Mora think of her and Rowan? 

Aelin hoped Aedion would pay his respects in Brannon’s temple while he was in Illium, only the Gods know the answer to all the bodies popping up in Illium and surrounds. All of them drained of blood. 

If Rowan was here she could ask him more about Doranelle’s history. She had heard of Brannon being born a bastard there before he and Mala sailed across to Erilea. She had heard of the First War, when Valg had poured in through portals, many were killed or exiled back to their home dimension using powerful wyrdmarks. Very few of them remained in Erilea but the king remained, Erawan killed and slaughtered many members of the Bane centuries later. What happened next is muddy, some say Elena killed him, some say Elena sent him back to the pit he crawled from and others theorise that he had been suppressed somehow and that he would return again. 

The demons of her dreams would have to be the Valg, there was no other explanation for it. Especially if they were memories or visions. Aelin had experienced visions before because of Brannon’s mark, but they hand never been this dark. 

The Wyrd had been forged with keys, two of which Aelin knew of. She had one, The Amulet of Orynth and Dorian had the other, The Eye of Elena. Aelin was damned if she knew where the third one rested, or even what the third one was.

All of this speculating without fact hurt her brain, the two strings in her chest felt different, one laid loose- as if nothing was connected on the other end and the other felt taught. The latter was the carranam bond. When she was a child Aedion used to tell her bedtime stories of carranam that remade the world, the dreamers bought forth a better world for everyone. 

Aelin sent his name barreling through the bond, deep down she knew it probably wouldn’t do anything. But she was a dreamer. 

Rowan?

Nothing. For the first time Aelin felt alone and it was all Rowan’s fault, how dare he storm into her life all cannons blazing and then leave? She would see him soon enough but just the thought of him made her happy. But the idea of him leaving again made her want to hit him. 

Aelin?  Rowan’s accented voice slammed into her head loud and clear, her whole chest warmed, both strings felt a tug before she answered.

I didn’t expect this to work. Aelin laughed into the cold empty room. 

Are you okay? 

I’m fine as anyone could be in this shitty inn.

Inn? Are you travelling or just sneaking out?

I’m seeing Nehemia, I’ve been having…strange dreams recently.

It was quiet for a long time and Aelin had thought the connection had faded until he spoke up again. 

Dreams? What of? 

Lots of things- evil bastards usually.  Aelin tried to joke about it but the screams still rang in her ears from last time she slept, she prayed Rowan couldn’t hear them. 

We won’t talk about it if you don’t want to.  He said, understanding her seriousness, with his own sense of wary Aelin could feel it from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes that Rowan knew what she spoke of. 

But if we stop talking I’ll have to sleep and I’m not too keen to do that. 

What if I read to you, Fireheart.

Okay. Aelin said as Rowan started to read the gods awfully good romance book she had slipped into his saddle bag. 

That night Aelin fell asleep to Rowan’s voice and across the sea Rowan fell asleep with a romance novel in his lap. 

A curt knock at Rowan’s door caused him to jump, the shitty romance novel he had been reading to Aelin fell out of his lap and slid under his bed. 

Rowan quickly got to his feet, fixing his tunic as he opened the door. 

Gavriel smiled at him.

“Let me guess,” Rowan said, his morning voice fleeting as he cleared his throat. “I’m wanted at breakfast.” 

“How did you guess? You must have gotten smarter in Terrasen.” Gavriel said, rolling his eyes. Gavriel was the kindest of them but when he gets sarcastic he takes no prisoners. 

The two of them walked through the light corridors of the Palace of Rivers. A maid quickly darted past them, carrying a vase of geraniums.   

Aelin hated geraniums.   

“Had a big night?” Gavriel quirked, gesturing to Rowan’s messy hair.   

“New book.” Gavriel laughed at him before nudging him in the ribs.   

“Since when do you read for fun?”   

“I don’t.” Rowan grumbled as they passed a group of Wendlyn Nobles.

He was almost relieved to see Lorcan as he strode away from Gavriel’s teasing. Rowan had never been a morning person, neither is Lorcan. 

The table had been set for sixteen, Rowan spied the place cards and calculated: there were seven of them, including Maeve. Three Ashryvers, Rowan’s uncle, Endymion, Sellene, Lady Remmele (Which Rowan couldn’t help but cringe at the sight of), Lord Benson and Lady Essar. 

The breakfast had been going well, Rowan had been placed far away from Remmele and across from Enda, Sellene and His uncle. No one was really talking, quiet chit-chat in between close guests. 

Until Remmele opened her godsdamned mouth. 

“Prince Galan, her Majesty was telling me that you have been in Terrasen of late.” Remmele said, causing the room to fall into a cone of silence, everyone was listening now.

“Yes, Prince Rowan and I sailed over.” Galan said. Rowan was going to stab him in the thigh with his butterknife if he kept talking. He felt a kick under the table and was met with Endymion’s narrowed eyes. 

“Oh really? And how was your…kin across the sea?” Rowan knew that Remmele only meant Aelin. His temper flared. Tales of Aelin’s war against the witches had reached Doranelle before the war was won. How Aelin had no need to dismount her horse, with one look she had burned through legions. 

“One cousin I favoured more than the other Lady Remmele, if you want to know more about the Crown Princess I’m not the one you should be asking.” Galan said staring straight at Rowan, his mouth pressed into a straight line. 

For the first time all morning, Maeve spoke:

“What did you think of my niece, Rowan?” Her voice stern and cold.

“Princess Aelin was everything the rumours suggested, my queen.” It was true. She was a fierce fighter, she was heavily trained, she was an expert with every form of weapon, she had the deepest power Rowan had ever encountered, she was the most beautiful life form to ever walk the earth, she had an inner circle to rival all of the spy rings in Wendlyn. She was too intelligent for her own good, she was reckless and wild. She was his, though that wasn’t a rumour nor was it well known. 

“A threat to me, then?” Maeve said leaning back in her ornate dining chair, her finger with her nail shaped into a sharp point circled the rim of her drinking goblet. Her even voice caused the whole table to stiffen. 

“Terrasen is just as big of a threat as any other, your Majesty.” Rowan said cryptically. He felt Lorcan’s gaze burning him. As well as Sellen’s worried eyes. 

“I did not ask you, Prince Rowan, about Terrasen. I asked you about my niece.” 

Rowan stayed silent.

That was the only answer Maeve needed. 

She stood so quickly glasses and tableware shook. She left the dining hall, a plethora of Queen’s Guardsmen trailing after her, their purple capes fluttering in the ethereal breeze.   

Rowan stabbed a piece of meat when everyone at the table started talking to him at once, save for the Ashryvers who quickly took their leave.   

He couldn’t believe Maeve had the nerve to ask him about the threat of Aelin instead of asking him if Aelin would help them in a potential war against the Valg.

Darkness was the best time for it to crawl through.   

It was made of smoke and was cut from the cloth of blackness that will cleave the world apart.   

It jumped from room to room in the castle.   

Until it could taste their breaths.   

It held her in it’s claw, her blonde hair hung off her limply when she was in this rag doll state. With it’s sharpest claw on the opposite hand it cut her throat as it drank the scarlet life blood from her golden body.   

It moved on to the other sleeping body, it was a male. Their blood never tasted as sweet. When his head hit the pillow seperate from it’s body It moved onto the next one.

It was an older looking version of the last one it fed from. There was only one body in this bed. 

It was a crimson lake when the darkness left. It crawled back to his master. Royal Blood was always better, especially in the name of revenge.

AN: OMG GUYS! You’ve all been so supportive and cool! The follower count is nearly at 230 already! 

I can’t thank you all enough!

This piece was written for: @2-bookmaster-2 @aelin-and-feyre @rowanismybae @sparkleywonderful @cassiancalore @igniscorde7112 @illyrian-high-lord @daughterxofxnight @bigsis227 @crazybookladythings @gcarroll @sugarcoated44 @wolffrising @notjustanyoldfangirl @bluephoenix222  @fck-tamlin and @readinglikewildfire

If you have any questions, ideas, prompts, requests, asks or just want a lil chat jump into my inbox, leave a comment or ask me something! I love getting to know everyone. 

Much love and many thanks!

-El. 

[rowan-buzzard-whitethorn]

Random pronunciation guide from the audiobooks because... I don’t know I’m bored and avoiding my project

Let me know if you’ve heard her say any of these another way because I am interested if the audiobooks are wrong!

I’m only doing the ones that people might not know already/ seems like there’s confusion about, if anyone wants another one just let me know

Literally no one asked for this, LET’S GO.

I didn’t take linguistics

Rhysand: Ree-sand (as in sand on the beach) (fun fact, it’s pronounced differently in the first book- like Rees-und)

LOL I feel like the rest of the acotar character are phonetic it’s just poor rhys that is all complicated

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius: Ay-lin Ash-river Galuh-thin-ee-uhs

Chaol: Kay-all

Arobynn Hamel: Air-uh-bin/ Air-oh-bin Hah-mul    (fun fact: just found out this is wrong- she says Hamel like Ham-elle)

Manon:   Muh-nahn 

Elide Lochan:   Elle-ee-d Lah-kin

Goddess Anneith: Anne-ith - LOL I bet that is wrong now that I’m looking at it

Nehemia Ytger: Neh-heem-ee-uh Yit-gur

Nesryn Faliq: Nez-rin Fuh-leek

Erawan: Air-uh-wahn

Erilea: Eh-rail-yuh or Eh-rail-ee-uh

Adarlan: Ah-der-len    (sidenote: the first time I heard this word in the books I was like wtf why is the place called OTTERLAND because that’s what it sounded like to me)

Eyllwe: Eel-way

Wyrd: Werd    

[mayhemories]

Braids & War Paint (Part 8)

Notes On: Part 1: / Part 2: / Part 3: / Part 4: / Part 5: / Part 6: / Part 7:

Rowan could taste the salt in the air when they landed in Varese, Wendlyn. From miles away his fae eyes could see a greeting party waiting for them. Though he did not expect this. 

Lorcan Salvaterre, the commander of the Queen’s first-hands lead a small group of Wendlyn soldiers, as well as soldiers clad in the colours of Doneralle. Fenrys, one of the wolf twins was also present. Holding the reigns of two saddled horses. 

Rowan’s right hand found it’s way to the braid in his hair,  as he thought about which queen he’d rather serve.

Maeve was difficult at the best of times, she was cruel, cold and calculating. The rest of the first-hands had taken the blood oath: Lorcan, Fenrys, Connall, Vaughan and Gavriel. But Rowan hadn’t. He had been offered the oath but declined, something deep in his chest had told him not to. Rowan hoped it was Aelin subconsciously telling him that Maeve wasn’t his final move on the chess board of life. With Rowan’s deep unyielding power Maeve cold have him with his free will or not have him at all. She chose the former like the tactical empress she was. 

Aelin. 

His heartbeat echoed her name, even now, across the sea with the threat of silence and beasts of molten onyx. Rowan thought about what Aelin’s cause of action would be if she were in his position. 

“You’ve missed a lot, boyo.” Fenrys said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. 

“Did you receive my letters?” Rowan asked, quickly placing the few items he bought with him into the saddlebags of the new stallion. His question was aimed at both, Lorcan and Fenrys. 

“The crown jewel, huh?” Fenrys said, just as Lorcan’s stern voice leeched into the atmosphere:

“We’ve had to stop intercontinental shipments, of all kinds.” 

Rowan’s eye’s caught alight with realisation, something was bubbling here. It would have to be major to cause all Erilean and Southern Continent ships to stop trading. To stop simple letters, it would have to be a threat that Rowan was uncomfortable to inquire on with the Wendlyn soldiers. 

It was only until he realised they were all, Wendlyn party included, were travelling to Doneralle. Just as Rowan thought he could ditch Galan. 

He needed infomation, Rowan  decided to hang to the back of the party, Fenrys trailing beside him, his stallion upset at such mundane speeds. 

“What is going on?” Rowan hissed at Fenrys, his golden face becoming harsh and stern. 

“Something magical has stirred. Creatures that Maeve fought alongside her sisters, alongside Brannon of the Wildfire and his kin.” Fenrys’ words caused Rowan’s hands to clench around his reigns, he hadn’t yet deigned to tell any of the first-hands about his Carranam bond, let alone who he shared the bond with. Rowan urged Fenrys for more information:

“The Valg. A black armada just appeared during the night. They just appeared.” Aelin. Rowan wondered if any Valg activity had occurred after he left. “We caught three, stabbed one in the chest and it survived. Like nothing had happened to it. We took the head off the next one, that worked but they’re fighters.” Rowan could tell there was more, Fenrys was keeping information from him. 

“And the third Valg?” Fenrys shook his head at Rowan’s question before facing him, his dark eyes held an emotion in them that Rowan couldn’t name.

“After Lorcan’s power couldn’t kill it we called in Maeve.” Fenrys swallowed hard, lowering his voice to a low whisper. “She couldn’t kill it, even with all her power, it wasn’t being affected. Maeve bought a candle in and the thing, it started hissing like it was afraid of it.” Rowan’s eyes burned into the back of Galan’s head. “She set it alight and it turned to ash, there was nothing left, even with a petty candle.” 

“How are we supposed to-“ Rowan started but was cut off by Galan’s voice, ringing out and asking all members of their travelling band. 

“Where is my family?” 

“King Glaston and Queen Rhoswen have been called to Doneralle, your Highness.” Fenrys called to him, Galan did not turn around but his shoulders coiled. “As well as the entirety of House Whitethorn.” Rowan had missed Endymion and Sellene, as well as his uncle. After seeing Aelin’s family, Rowan had missed his own. 

It was a rarity if the Ashryvers and Maeve made contact. It was rarer that the Galathynius’ responded to either of them. 

They held a fast pace to reach Doneralle by nightfall, the palace gates closing behind Rowan. The Oyrnth castle was an art piece compared to Maeve’s keep. 

Maeve had requested to see both Rowan and Galan tomorrow. That was final. So they decided to seek lightheartedness elsewhere.

He sat, his neck craned back looking at the constellations and wondering if Aelin could see them too. They were in the courtyard, shearing beer like they usually did. Fenrys was the life of the party: his words ran together and his laugh bounced off the sandstone walls, Lorcan was brooding but listening all the same, Gavriel was considerate of Rowan’s wiriness, Connall never really talked, his twin did that for the both of them and Vaughan was on the receiving end of Fenrys’ shitty jokes.

“Where’d you get that?” Gavriel asked, pointing to where Rowan’s hand was playing with his braid. 

“Terrasen custom.” Was Rowan’s only reply. Gavriel’s eye’s quirked and the rest of the ‘cadre’ as Aelin liked to call them, had a new found interest in Rowan. 

“Aren’t you gonna tell us anything about your trip?” Vaughan asked, the Osprey cunning and quick. 

“Not much to tell.” Not much to tell without mentioning his secret of Aelin. 

“Galan didn’t mention his cousin once the whole ride here.” Lorcan said, leaning forward so his forearms were resting on his knees. Rowan shrugged. 

“She didn’t spend much time with him, Galan followed the male Ashryver around.” Rowan tried to reason with himself; he should tell them now, better then them finding out later, he should be the one to tell them. But tell them what? That Aelin Ashryver Galathynius of the Wildfire, descendant of Mab, Mora and Maeve, blessed by Mala, the heir of fire and ash, was his carranam, was his… Truth be told, Rowan didn’t know. 

“I’ve heard rumours of her beauty.” Connall said, referring to Aelin and Rowan compressed his snarl. They weren’t rumours, she was the most gorgeous being Rowan had ever seen. 

“She was pleasant to look at.” Rowan said, his jaw tightening. He wanted to reverse this conversation. 

“Did you take fondness to her?” Gavriel asked. This was what boys talked of, they were men. Men hundreds of years old, yet when Rowan tried to say that she was ‘platonically friendly’ his face grew hot. 

“Stop bullshitting us, Rowan.” Lorcan said gruffly, looking somewhat disinterested. 

“I became quite���close, with Aelin.” Rowan wasn’t expecting them to laugh, he wasn’t expecting Lorcan to roll his eyes. 

“First name basis, boyo!” Fenrys said, leaning over and punching Rowan in his solid arm.

“Carranam.” Rowan spat the word before he had time to regret it.   

“What did you just say?” Lorcan said so low he almost growled.   

“Carranam. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius is my carranam, the bond is quite strong.”

As those words flew out of his mouth a cry sounded in the night. A white messenger hawk circled in the courtyard, silver and green ribbons were loosely tied around it’s neck. The Terrasen Messenger Hawk. It carried a letter in it’s talons which it dropped into Rowan’s lap. He laughed as the Hawk cried and flew off into the night. 

Count on his Fireheart to deliver a letter into a closed border country. 

“Speak of the devil, the Princess of the Flames must be able to hear us.” Fenrys laughed. 

Rowan smiled down at the piece of parchment that was sealed with the Terrasen green, stamped into it was the stag. 

Aelin tossed and turned, her silk sheets were too heavy, the room was suffocatingly cold. She couldn’t get warm, no matter what she did. 

Aelin knew she was dreaming this darkness, the faces of fae she had never seen before flashed across her vision, hissing of daemons in the dark. The screams of innocents plagued her mind as wyrdmarks erupted, gates flew open, rips in the underworld let ships pour out, she saw a key, she saw the Endovier salt mine, she saw Sam and Rowan. 

She saw battles enraging in lands that were foreign to her. She was burning armies, fleets, creatures that had only walked the earth according to legend. 

It was the twelfth time she had experienced this dream, as soon as Rowan left they started. She wondered if it was a bond thing. 

No more.

She sat upright in bed, Fleetfoot whimpering beside her.   

Aelin only knew one person who understood dreams, she only knew one person that could explain it to her. Tomorrow, Aelin would leave for Eyllwe tomorrow. Nehemia would be the only living person in Erilea that could understand.

A:N/ HELLO! Little note, the Endovier Salt mine will be mentioned in the future, Aelin has not been there yet. 

Wow, I’m four followers off 200 and I just can’t believe it, thank you so much. 

As always this was written for: @2-bookmaster-2 @aelin-and-feyre @rowanismybae @sparkleywonderful @cassiancalore @igniscorde7112 @illyrian-high-lord @daughterxofxnight @bigsis227 @crazybookladythings @gcarroll @sugarcoated44 @wolffrising @notjustanyoldfangirl @bluephoenix222

If you have any requests, prompts, ideas, asks, questions or just want a bit of a chat my inbox is open and is a safe space. 

Much love and many thanks for all the support.

-El. 

[mayhemories]

Braids & War Paint (Part 2)

Notes on:

Part 1:

Part 3:

Part 4:

Rowan Whitethorn had been many places, he’s traveled to every direction, climbed a plethora of mountains, has lived in cities that are nothing more than dirt now and nothing he’s seen will compare to the wildness of Terrasen and it’s people. Wild in the fact the citizens of Terrasen have such a connection to their home, the air is cleaner when everyone cares for it. It reminded him of Mistward. 

 Galan Ashryver had not expected Rowan’s presence on this journey, Queen Maeve wanted to send someone wrapped in her flag, to try and “mend broken relations” between her and her kin across the sea. Rowan Whitethorn was utterly sick of Doneralle and volunteered to leave. He was so anxious to see the capital that Rowan pushed their traveling party forward with intense wind. Their horses made it in record time, apparently. 

 The Galathynius’ were…nice. Orlon and Rhoe were very charming, very warm to their guests- Rowan included. But it was the Terrasen Ashryver’s that surprised him, Evalin had all the same features that Galan too carried. Save for hair. Aedion Ashryver was a spitting image of Galan, though his hair was fair like his Aunt. And Gods, the two bloodlines that made Aelin Ashryver Galathynius of the Wildfire. Tall, lean, extended fae limbs. She was impeccably beautiful, she knew it too. Long golden hair, golden skin, chiseled features. She was all muscle under velvet skin… and those eyes, the Ashryver eyes of legend old, blue with the core of gold. Rowan decided that she wore those eyes the best. 

As the kin talked throughout luncheon Rowan kept quiet, eating cocktail sandwiches and drinking bubbled water. He’s focus seemed to stray from the conversation a lot, his eyes wandered and they always found her again. Sometimes she would catch his gaze, smirk and return back to the conversation. Rowan has had serious lovers in the past, he’s had flings and one night stands but never has he felt the feeling of intrigue. She intrigued him, it wasn’t even in a romantic way. The way the Crown Princess conducted herself was like nothing Rowan had ever seen, her opinion was there to be heard. She laid her deck of cards for everyone too see, even a chosen warrior from a broken kin. He’s never seen so much metal strapped to a royal so casually, no Terrasen guard seemed alarmed. A belt of daggers were strapped around her waist, a golden sword at her left hip, cuffs of small knives sat snugly at her thin wrists. Rowan was taken aback by how much of his thoughts were revolving around the princess. Though, Rowan didn’t try to change his train of thought. 

“Your quarters, Prince Rowan.” Rowan thanked the young maid before she quickly skited off. 

 They weren’t modest quarters, the bedroom was airy and decorated with whites, greys and rich greens. Rowan ran his hand across the light stone walls that reflected the sun around the room. He dropped his luggage on the dark wooden floors with a thud. A large four poster bed sat against the eastern wall, a desk, an eating table and a large armoire were placed in the room, all made out of the same dark wood. The washroom was double the size of his Doneralle one, a large tub made out of light stone that had been polished so that Rowan could see his face in it. Large basin, large mirror… everything was oversize and grand and overwhelming. 

 Satisfied with his new quarters, Rowan sat at the writing desk and began to pen a letter to his queen. It was a short synopsis about travel, the cities he’s seen and of course the royal family. He couldn’t have been more than two paragraphs in until a laugh like a crackling fire in the winter filled his ears, it was warm and inviting giggle that he could only peg to one woman. 

 Rowan ripped open the curtains by his shoulders, white doors that lead to a balcony stared back at him. Before Rowan knew what he was doing the balcony doors opened and he stepped out. No more than five feet away sat Aelin Galathynius, reading on her own balcony. Her room was directly across the way from Rowan’s. Mab, Mora and Maeve burn him.

“Hello neighbor! No one has been in that room in a long time.” The Princess said, folding a corner of her page down and placing the novel on the table near her. A massive golden hound was curled at her feat, the both of them soaking up the last few hours of the late afternoon sun. 

 "You might be disappointed, I have a reputation of being a bad neighbour.“ Rowan quipped, leaning against the railing. They would have to be at least sixteen levels up. They were the top, there were no other balconies overhead. 

"I’ll be the judge of that. I’ve never lived in close quarters with a brooding fae warrior.” To his dismay, Rowan smirked at her charming voice…more the comment than her but the lines blur somewhere. 

“I would argue that your cousin seems to be of the brooding type.” The banter flowed effortlessly between the two, she laughed again at the blow of her cousin, Aedion Ashryver, The Wolf of the Wild North. 

“Wait til’ dinner, there isn’t room for two Ashryver males in this castle.” Her long legs were clothed in tight black pants, they seemed to go on for miles as she walked closer to her own railing, leaning against it, mimicking Rowan’s earlier actions. 

 "I don’t think I can handle a pissing contest.“ 

"Are you sure you won’t join in? After all, it’ll be a contest over my attention.” Rowan rolled his eyes, he forgets how young they all are; Galan, the oldest out of the bunch was a steely twenty-five, Aedion was twenty-three and Aelin was only just eighteen. He expected her to be much older. It embarrassed Rowan how little he knew of Terrasen and their rulers. 

 "I’m your neighbor now, aren’t I? I’ll have your attention more often.“ Aelin’s eyes burned with something Rowan hadn’t seen in a long time, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Pushing off her rail, the princess collected her book and whistled up her hound, Fleetfoot and walked to her door. Rowan stayed dead still, as if she was a doe he’d scare away. She turned and faced him at the twin of his door. 

"It’s been interesting, Prince Rowan. Terrasen welcomes you.” And Rowan didn’t know whether it was him or the moment or his tiredness, but he called out to her before she crossed into her threshold of gossamer curtains. 

“Rowan. Just Rowan.”

 The last thing he saw was her heart cleaving smile. Rowan decided that he would own a letter to Fenrys too, let him know of the golden jewel he found in the antler crown of the Wild North. 

Aelin loved fashion, adored fabrics and dresses. Just enjoyed dressing up, even when there was no real event to get dressed up for. But now, Aelin had her excuse, they had company. Important company that she should impress, Galan’s trip is very diplomatic after all. Fixing severed ties and all that… It didn’t help that a very handsome fae warrior was on her door step.   

When Aelin was in Eyllwe learning more about the country she met the Crown Princess, Nehemia Ytger. Nehemia is only a year older than herself, they had become best friends instantaneously. For Aelin’s recent name day, Nehemia had sent a dress for Aelin, she was saving it for something big, but Aelin had very little self restraint.   

She dressed in the emerald green of Terrasen’s forests, it was intricate dress that had been hand made for her. Chiffon that fell into small pleats, the waistband had a large metal embellishment to draw your eyes down from the ropes that held the bodice together. It was art, physical art that Aelin draped over her lean body.   

Aelin’s chambermaids braided her long hair, she wore it like this when she went into battle or was training, though, she supposed, the dinning room would be as tense as a battlefield. All the lords and ladies sweating bucketloads under the gaze of Rowan Whitethorn. 

“Well don’t you look devastating.” Aelin’s best friend, Lady Lysandra of Caraverre stated, linking the two girls’ arms as the walked down the winding halls to the dining room. Lysandra was a young shapeshifter who Aelin hated grotesquely when they were younger, until the battles against the Yellowlegs did Aelin and Lysandra connect. They fought side by side, for a long while Aelin suspected the carranam bond between them. Nothing came to pass besides a beautifully strong friendship. 

“As do you, who are you impressing?” Lysandra had her dark locks curled and pined up in a cornet, wearing a navy embellished dress, that flowed to her ankles, her lips were painted a dark scarlet. 

“I’m not impressing anyone, just causing Aedion to fall in love with me all over again.” They laughed together as the dining room’s massive oak doors opened, they were the last to arrive. 

Aelin’s uncle sat at the head of the table, her parents on either side of him. To Aelin’s Dismay, Galan was sitting in the seat opposite her own, the Far prince was further down the table, near Lord Allsbrook and Lady Elide. 

Aelin took her seat, and the serving began.

“You look lovely.” Galan smiled at her from across the table. She thanked him, the sound of boredom dripped off her tongue and soon after Aelin felt the little pinch on her leg, her mother retracted her hand from her thigh liked nothing happened. It was a warning Aelin had since she was a child: Play nice. 

Playing nice wasn’t Aelin’s forte.

“Your journey must have been long.” Aelin stated, Galan looked almost confused that she was making direct conversation with him. She placed her elbow on the table, propping her head on her open palm.  

“I-uh…yes. The ocean became very isolating.” Galen stuttered, Aelin leaned forward, almost urging him to go on without words. Her parents and her uncle’s attention were now peaked by the topic. 

From the corner of her eye a certain fae prince had the tips of his sensitive ears twitching. Listening in on the blandest conversation Aelin had anything to do with, Dorian Havilliard’s cooking had more godsdamned flavour than this dinner party. 

“We had an Mycenian escort off the coast of Terrasen.” Galan smiled again, his dark eyebrows shot up when doing so. 

“Our precious Aelin stitched up the Terrasen ties with the Mycenians, if it weren’t for her you would’ve had no escort.” Orlon quipped, the whole table was listening now, even though the loudest noise in the room was the cutlery. 

Aelin realised that Galan expected her to be…embarrassed, blushing maybe?

Smug was a better word for it, the princess leaned back in her ornate chair, she’d encouraged the talk about her, besides, ‘Aelin’ was the best topic Aelin could think of. 

“Oh really, that must have been a very tense conversation.” Aelin shook her head, Galan was too much of a politician.   

“I used threats and force. It wasn’t a conversation at all.” 

With that statement, Aelin looked to her right, Rowan Whitethorn raised an eyebrow.  

Aelin winked back. 

AN: this is slow and boring but I really want to take my time with Aelin and Rowan in this fic, I’m so sorry if they seem OOC but… too late now I’m committed to this story. Yeah, The whole thing will be from alternating POV’s. Please tell me your thoughts and ideas about this fic, message me, let me know! Anyways, thank you for the support. Much love, 

-El.