lunadorned

[lunadorned]

I second your motion, @sassyhobbits

After an attempt on the Lady of Perranth’s life, she is assigned a knight of the royal guard for protection by Terrasen’s princess, much to her uncle’s displeasure. Lady Elide does not want a highborn knight who has never tasted combat outside the tourney grounds. Her choice is abundantly clear.

Ser Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, joins the ranks of Terrasen’s royal guard and swears their vows. The silver cloak and white armour distinguish him as one of their rank, yet he is set apart from them by his charge.

She could be his ruination. He could be her salvation.

warnings: language, explicit sexual content | word count: 5.8k

series masterlist | ao3

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Elide pulled the commoner’s clothes from the sack stuffed under the sofa in her rooms, courtesy of Aelin. The hidden passageway’s door opened without a sound, a gust of stale wind ruffling her braided hair. Inside, Aelin waited with a lamp. The princess grinned, beckoning Elide along.

“Where are we going?” Elide whispered, the words echoing up and down the tight spiraling stairwell they were descending. Aelin stopped, turning and pressing her finger to her lips.

They emerged near the kitchens, slipping from the servants’ entrance of the palace into the city. Even at night, the city was bustling. Night markets popped up and vanished before the sun rose, selling wild assortments of trinkets and baubles and delicacies from the farthest reaches of the known world. No one batted an eye at the princess as she joined the throngs of people in the streets. The two women broke a small, rich cake from the Southern Continent in half, crumbs brushed from sticky fingers. Aelin slipped her hand through Elide’s, linking the two girls together.

The tavern they stepped into was crowded, filled with song and patrons. Coins jingled and good-natured shouts arose as a game of cards ended. Elide took the tankard of sweet smelling alcohol from Aelin, some sloshing over the edge and making her hand sticky. One grin mirrored another, cheeks flushed. Tipsy, Elide watched the woman at the next table over drape herself over the soldier’s lap, his hands roving her curves after a quick exchange of coin.

Aelin pulled Elide to her feet, dragging her out the door and down the street. “‘S okay to be curious,” the princess whispered conspiratorially. “Let me open your eyes to what the world has to offer.” Shoved into a large room filled with swaying swaths of gauzy fabric, curling trails of incense, and dim wall sconces, Elide balked. She had heard of pleasure houses but never visited one before. An attendant led them around the maze of fabric and into a more private room at the edges with a thicker curtain. The curtain closed behind the attendant, reopening a short while later to reveal her carrying a tray for tea service.

“Thank you,” Aelin said, pressing a thick silver coin into the attendant’s hand. “That will be all.” Steam curled in delicate wisps from their cups. The princess’s lips curled deviously behind the rim of her teacup. “Go on, Lee. Take a look.”

Curiosity got the better of her. Elide stepped into the maze of fabrics, their gauzy nature doing little to hide the sights or sounds behind them. A man grunted, hips jerking up into the mouth of the naked man on his knees before him. Behind another, a curvaceous woman lay between a man’s front and another woman, head tipped back and mouth open in ecstasy as the man played with her full breasts and the second woman knelt and lowered her mouth to the other’s core. Another; a couple kissing languidly, hands gentle as they explored. Another; a woman moaning as she bounced on a man’s cock, his hands on her hips as he guided her.

Heat flooded Elide’s cheeks and she turned back to return the way she came, except now all the curtains looked the same. A handsome young man seemed her saving grace, appearing from the depths.

Plush lips curved into a gentle smile. “Are you lost, milady?” he asked, no trace of teasing in his tone. Elide nodded, embarrassed. He offered his arm, ever the gentleman, and led her back to the outer wall of the pleasure house where the more private rooms were located. Finally, she recognized the deep blue velvet curtain with a breath of relief. Inside, Aelin sipped at her tea and sat with a book in her lap, one leg tucked underneath her. Where the book came from, Elide had no idea. Leave it to Aelin to never be without something to read, no matter the occasion.

Elide shut the curtain, turning back to the young man. Tongue darting out to lick her lips, she watched something in his gaze shift. He didn’t kiss her proper, instead gently pushing her back against the wall and slotting his thigh between her legs. His lips were sinfully soft on her skin, open-mouthed kisses with teases of teeth and tongue that had her writhing. Heat pooled low in her belly, spurred on by the honeywine coursing through her system. Elide ground into the muscle of his thigh, desperate for friction. Thick auburn curls tumbled over his brow as he looked down at her with an endearing smile. “This one’s on the house, milady,” he murmured. He shifted, hardened cock pressing into her stomach.

Something felt … off. Wrong.

Elide pushed him off, already missing the warmth from his body curled over hers. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, ducking away from him and fleeing. Aelin looked up, alarmed, as Elide tumbled back into the room. “Please, I want to leave,” Elide begged, almost on the verge of tears.

“Did someone—” the princess asked, narrowing her eyes. A fire rose in those turquoise eyes, promising retribution if she said the word.

“No,” she cut the blonde off with, shaking her head. “I just want to go back.”

In the dark, the young man had become another.

———————————

Lorcan yawned outside Lady Elide’s room, having heard nothing out of the ordinary for the past few hours. It was late in the night now and he was tempted to head to bed himself. Other palace guards could stand guard for the remainder of the night.

Running footsteps echoed down the hallway and Lorcan jumped to attention, sword halfway out of its scabbard before he recognized the woman rushing towards him. She was dressed like a commoner, dark hair plaited into one long braid with wisps free around her face. Blindsided by this turn of events, he didn’t even stop her as she pushed open the door to her rooms and slammed it shut behind her.

“Elide,” he barked, rapping hard on the door. “Let me in.” Rattling on the handle did nothing; she must have locked it. “Elide.” Now was not the time for formalities. “If you do not open this door in the next five seconds, I will break it down.” Never before had he failed to follow through with a threat, so he wasn’t about to start now. He counted down under his breath, readying to ram his shoulder into the door when it opened. The Lady of Perranth stood on the other side of the threshold, at least having the good sense to look somewhat guilty.

“How did you get out?” he demanded. She pointed towards a section of the wall and Lorcan strode over, pushing back the woven tapestry to reveal a door that opened to a dark passageway. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turned to face the woman he had sworn to protect with a heavy sigh. “Go to bed, Elide.” He headed back towards the doorway, sensing her presence behind him. “What?” he snapped, exhaustion causing his temper to rear its head.

Dark eyes stared up at him. “Stay, please,” she begged.

Lorcan barely stifled his yawn in time. “I’ll be outside the door if you need anything.” Gods, he was tired. Not to mention, it was highly inappropriate to share a room with her, even if he slept on the floor.

“Stay.”

“I cannot.”

Both of her hands wrapped around his wrist, preventing him from leaving. Far more strength lay in his body than in hers, allowing him to easily pull away if he so wished, though he was loathe to use it against her. So he allowed her to hold him in place, to prevent him from leaving as duty and honor demanded.

Nimble fingers trailed up from his wrist to the buckles of his vambraces, undoing the fastenings and removing one, then the other. He should have stopped her there, pulled back and walked away.

But he didn’t.

White cloak draped over the back of a chair, Lorcan unbuckled his sword belt. He removed his armour piece by piece, knowing that once they stepped over this line, this was it. They would be past the point of no return. A line drawn in the sand since the beginning of time, a rule knights and those they protected did not break. He had sworn a vow of chastity with his cloak, as all of Terrasen’s knights did. To break it was to relinquish his cloak and position on the guard.

But with a taste of her lips, his fingers tangled in her unbound hair, he told the gods and their stupid vows to go fuck themselves.

Lorcan could feel the ghost of the other man on her skin, hear her ragged breaths as his hands skimmed her clothed curves. If she wanted him to erase the memory of that other man, gods help him, he would do it. It would wreck him absolutely, but he would do it. And if she never wanted him again after tonight, he would find a way to deal with it.

In the moment, though, he didn’t care what tomorrow would bring. He only cared about the now, the present.

The part where she was kissing him or he was kissing her, the difference utterly indistinguishable. Elide pulled his tunic untucked from his trousers, pushing it up and up to reveal terracotta skin emblazoned with the memories of another’s blade. Dancing fingers trailed over his scars, the woman controlling them giggling as Lorcan tensed and unwittingly flexed. She smiled against his lips, pulling him with her toward the massive bed.

Elide kicked off her boots, reaching for the ties to her pants when Lorcan stopped her. Confusion riddled her face, followed by a flash of hurt when he didn’t immediately speak.

“Have—” Lorcan cleared his throat and tried again. “Have you ever …” He trailed off, unsure of how to phrase his question. She nibbled on her lower lip, a blush coloring her cheeks as she shook her head. Gods damn him and the way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. She was going to be his undoing, his utter ruin. The glaring problem was he would go willingly, follow her wherever she went without a word of argument. Even to his death.

Lorcan stooped to kiss her again, ignoring the slight twinging pain in his neck. Hands found the hem of her shirt and pulled it off. She giggled into his cheek as his fingers stumbled on the laces of her stays, a low curse slipping from kiss-swollen lips. Finally, she stood before him in just her thin undershirt and half-undone pants. The top’s pale cloth left little to the imagination. Lorcan found his hands batted away as he reached for her, brows furrowing. Elide took off the undershirt, hands covering her heart. Gently, he pulled her hands away and kissed each palm. A raised pink scar cut through the smooth pale skin above her heart, the likely source of her trepidation.

He pulled his tunic over his head and dropped it on the floor, baring his own scarred body to her. Dark eyes widened at the number of them.

“See? Nothing to be ashamed of,” Lorcan murmured, kissing her scar and allowing his lips to linger. She melted into him, tugging his lips back to hers. Lorcan cupped her face, hands falling to trace a path down her neck and sides of her breasts and waist before settling on her hips and lifting her onto the bed. Loathe to let him go, Elide tugged him closer and knocked him unsteady, the impact of his body engulfing her smaller one driving the air from her lungs. Her quiet laughter had him chuckling.

Nothing between them but air, Lorcan gently lay her back on the bed. He knelt between her spread legs, thumbs making lazy circles on the insides of her thighs, slowly climbing higher and higher. Wetness glistened in the low lighting. Lowering himself to kiss the lower swell of her stomach, Lorcan slipped one finger into her. She sucked in a sharp breath, exhaling shakily. After a few moments, he added a second and slowly readied her, taking his sweet time. It would be all too easy to exchange his fingers for his cock and fuck her with reckless abandon, taking his pleasure like a conquest and leaving her in the wreckage of the aftermath.

Instead, Lorcan kissed a searing trail up the contours of her stomach, the undersides of her breasts, the hollow of her throat, finally her lips. His name was a pleading whimper on her lips. Lorcan smiled, diving deeper into the slick heat between her legs and reveling in her gasp as he curled his fingers. She ground her pelvic bone into the heel of his hand, craving the final lift that would send her over the edge. Obliging, he brushed his thumb over her clit and skimmed his teeth over the delicate, unmarked skin of her throat.

Half-lidded eyes gazed up at him, hazy with pleasure. A distinctly male pride swelled deep inside him at the sight, that he was the cause. Lorcan kissed her lazily, like they had all the time in the world. Because in this pocket of night they carved out for themselves, they did. Breaking their kiss to look down, he lined the tip of his cock up. Elide’s eyes were squeezed shut, her chest not moving.

“Elide,” he murmured softly, “look at me.” Eyes so dark they were nearly pits of shadow opened, meeting his gaze. “Breathe.” The first inhale and exhale were sharp, ragged. The second came too fast for his liking. After the third, they began to steady.

“Ready?” he asked gently. A nod. “I need to hear you say it.”

Elide breathed, “Yes.”

Painstakingly slowly, Lorcan pushed inside her. Nails dug into his biceps, her breaths forced. He was hardly breathing himself, even. He stilled, allowing her plenty of time to adjust.

Small hands slipped from his arms to his ribcage, holding steady as he began to move. Lorcan claimed her lips as rolled his hips, hands out of the picture for now. He longed to touch her, but to reduce his bodyweight to even one arm would inevitably lead to his collapse and her suffocation. So he settled for the way her hands roved back and sides and chest. It was nowhere near enough.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped breathlessly in his ear. Scratches decorated his back like battle scars, the angle of his hips causing her to dig her nails into his skin. Falling from her lips in a million different ways, his name was absolution, forgiveness for his sins. “Lorcan.”

No Ser, no honorific. Just his name.

———————————

Elide sank into the heat of her bath with a pleasured sigh. A slight ache between her legs reminded her of the ironclad rules she had broken, of the man who wore violence like a second skin.

With Aelin’s wedding in less than a week, the palace was bustling with staff. Ser Lorcan trailed her like a shadow, never speaking a word of what had occurred between them that night. The princess was complaining about not being allowed to meet her future husband until the day of the wedding, but Elide’s mind was elsewhere. That elsewhere had her pushed up against the wall in a shadowed alcove, his breath hot against her neck and skirts hiked up as he thrust into her.

“Elide!” Aelin snapped her fingers in the other girl’s face, glowering. “Were you even listening?”

“Yes, of course,” Elide blustered, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. Nothing had happened between the two of them since, but her mind had been drifting off lately on a path seemingly straight for the knight five paces behind them.

The princess huffed. “No, you weren’t. Don’t lie to me.” Without warning, her features shifted from annoyance to a suspicious glee. Warning bells blared in Elide’s head. Nothing good ever came from that look on Aelin’s face. Ever.

“Who could possibly take more precedence in your mind than me?” Her lips pursed and her nose scrunched as she thought for a second before suddenly yanking Elide close so hard she stumbled. Lips practically touching her ear, Aelin’s words were less of a whisper and more of a shout. “You’re fucking someone.” The way it was worded was a statement rather than a question. “Who is he? She? Tell me, immediately. All the details.”

Behind them, Ser Lorcan coughed. “Milady. Princess,” he said roughly, taking his leave. Elide didn’t watch him leave, so as not to give Aelin any clues. Two other white-cloaked guards replaced him, their gazes flickering on the noblewomen for a split second. It was sheer coincidence his replacements had just so happened to arrive at that very second, allowing him a painless escape.

Elide wasn’t so lucky.

“I’m not,” she squeaked out pathetically. Lying wouldn’t help her cause at all. So why she tried, she didn’t know.

A very unprincess-like scoff. “Don’t lie to me.” When Elide didn’t answer and kept her head bowed and eyes on the floor, the golden princess huffed. “Keep your secrets then.”

They stood in the hallway with an awkward sparking tension between them until Aelin’s stomach grumbled. Not loudly, but just enough to make Elide snicker. A mutual agreement of cake was reached, the two young women making their way to the palace kitchens and sending the princess to bribe the cook for a slice or three. Aelin emerged victorious, a plate with a thick slice of her favorite chocolate hazelnut cake in one hand and Elide’s preferred lemon poppyseed cake in the other.

Sitting cross-legged under the shade of an ancient oak, they happily indulged in the sweets in their laps. The guards stood within shouting distance. Birds sang in the trees, flitting from branch to branch. Wind rustled through the leaves and lifted flyaway strands of hair from Elide’s neck.

It was peaceful.

They were separate from the hubbub of the palace and the city, even though encircled by it.

“Elide,” Aelin murmured, softer than Elide had ever heard her, with a quiver in her voice. “I’m scared. What if he’s ugly? Or cruel? No one will tell me anything.” Silent tears trailed down the princess’s cheeks. “I don’t know anything about him and I’ll be stuck with him for the rest of my life.”

Squeezing her hand, Elide glanced skyward as if the gods had an answer. “All I can tell you is Prince Rowan isn’t ugly,” she confessed.

“You’ve seen him?” Aelin shrieked, tears forgotten.

Elide kicked her weakly, shooting her a glare to be quiet. “I caught a glimpse of his arrival the other day. His hair is silver and—” Aelin opened her mouth. “Don’t interrupt me or I’ll stop. And, as I was saying, his hair is silver. Not white or light grey, but silver. He’s quite handsome, although he does have these strange inkings on the left side of his face and his hand. It’s not in any language I know. He seemed kind, offering to help the servants until he was reprimanded by someone I couldn’t see. That’s all I know,” Elide finished, a bit out of breath.

A surprised noise escaped her as the princess tackled her in a hug, knocking them both onto the ground. “I love you, Elide Lochan,” Aelin giggled, smacking an obnoxious wet kiss to Elide’s cheek.

The days passed in a blur as the royal wedding dragged ever closer. Handmaidens laced Elide into her gown for the wedding on the day of. They anointed her wrists and neck with delicate perfume, slipping rings onto her fingers and pins into her hair. Finally, they stepped back with synchronized bows. Elide stared at herself in the mirror, wondering who the woman staring back at her was. The gown was a shade of purple so deep it was almost black, hundreds of little diamonds stitched into the outer skirts so they glittered like the night sky when she turned. A light dusting of blush brought color to her pale skin, her lips stained with a balm colored by blackberries. Iridescent powder made of ground fish scales made her cheek- and collarbones shimmer. Amethyst teardrops hung from her ears, a delicate silver necklace encircling her neck. The gown was the centerpiece, so the jewelry was minimal as not to distract the eye.

Vernon would not be attending due to illness, so said his missive when it arrived the other day. Elide was glad. Words were inadequate at expressing her relief.

Three sharp knocks on the door of her chambers had the servants scrambling to open them, excusing themselves. A dark figure wreathed in silver filled the doorway.

Elide stepped from the small pedestal, gathering her skirts and heading for the door. The wedding ceremony was to start soon and she didn’t want to be late. Ser Lorcan stood in her way, overshadowing her. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. A compliment lay on the tip of his tongue, unsaid as she pushed past him into the corridor. He followed her silently.

In the temple, Elide joined Aelin’s parents and cousin in the first row of pews. Across the aisle sat what must have been Prince Rowan’s family, or at least those who journeyed with him to witness the wedding. Royalty and nobles from other realms as well as nobles from this one filled the seats behind the first row, a myriad of fabrics and skin tones. The king and queen of Terrasen greeted Elide warmly, eyes sparkling. Aedion grinned, wearing ceremonial clothes in shades of green. He whispered in her ear that she looked like a gilded plum, eliciting a giggle that had her knight scowling from his position on the wall.

Horns sounded and silence fell inside the temple. Elide turned, along with everyone else, to watch the Prince of Doranelle’s entrance. His cream-colored cape trailed on the ground, disturbing the flower petals strewn across it. Gleaming brown leather boots ascended the few steps of the dais. Inked markings trailed from his hairline down his neck, disappearing into his collar and reappearing at his wrist to span the back of his left hand. Silver threads in his cream ensemble caught the sunlight and glimmered. Everything about him was silver, Elide realized. Silver hair, silver accents, silver circlet. Except for his eyes, which were the most piercing green she had ever seen, the same shade as leaves deep in the Oakwald. His gaze glanced over the assembled crowd, widening slightly in surprise at something in Elide’s direction. She briefly wondered what it could be, until the horns sounded again and any thought that was not Terrasen’s princess was wiped from her mind.

Aelin glided across the floor, the only sound the whispering of her skirts. Golden waves tumbled down her back, a delicate golden diadem sitting atop her head and holding a sheer veil in place. If Doranelle’s prince was silver like the moon, she was golden like the sun. The white gown was elegant, a thin silhouette that accented her figure without being scandalous. Cinched at her waist with a thin sash, fabric flowed like a waterfall to the floor and trailed behind her. Three threadlike strands of gold draped delicately from the nearly nonexistent sleeves. A necklace of delicate golden filigree rested just above her collarbones.

The king met his daughter at the end of the long aisle. Looping her arm through her father’s, Aelin held her skirts in her free hand as she climbed the dais. Rhoe lifted her veil and allowed it to fall freely down her back, kissing his daughter’s cheek. Then he rejoined his wife and nephew, tears glistening in his eyes. As the assembled crowd sat, Elide noticed the ruling couple entwining hands as they looked toward their daughter. She hoped one day to have a love like theirs, while knowing her uncle would all but sell her to the highest bidder.

The ceremony itself was brief. A deep green sash edged in silver thread was wrapped around their joined hands as the temple’s priestess led them through their vows before pronouncing them husband and wife.

Now that the ceremony was over, the festivities truly began. Orynth’s people filled the streets with song and dance and drink, celebrating the marriage of their princess. Though they weren’t fortunate enough to be invited to the royal feast, they held their own in blocked off streets. Elide watched children laugh and chase each other through the crowds from the window of her carriage. Ser Lorcan sat across from her, still and silent as a statue. She took his offered hand upon their return to the palace, stepping out from the carriage and onto the smooth paving stones before fluffing out the skirts of her gown.

Sun high in the sky with nary a cloud in the sky, the day was a gorgeous one. A feast normally held in the great hall had been moved outside into the palace gardens. Tables were laden with food of all sorts, delicacies from Antica next to sweets from Eyllwye. Lilting music filled the summer day, weaving through the air. Elide sipped at the rich wine in her glass, mingling politely with the other guests. He trailed her, no more than three steps behind her at all times. An empty wine glass was replaced with a full one. Elide danced with Prince Dorian Havilliard of Adarlan and then Prince Sartaq of the Southern Continent, thoroughly enjoying their company. Her ankle twinged in pain and she excused herself from the dance floor as the song came to a close. She found herself talking with one of the witches of the Western Wastes and was offered a standing invitation to visit, the woman’s white hair and golden eyes intriguing Elide. The sun was near setting now, the festivities having barely died down. Bonfires were lit, smoke swirling into the painted sky. As night fell and the stars twinkled to life, Elide sipped the wine in her glass and watched the people still dancing, perfectly content to linger on the outskirts for a bit. A slight buzz from the wine paired with the bonfires kept her warm as the night’s chill set in. The hour was late and only the younger nobility and royals remained. Elide laughed with Aelin, spinning round and round in the center of the dance floor to music that urged them faster and faster until they fell in a heap of fabric and raucous laughter. They feasted on sugary treats deemed too sweet by some of the older guests until their stomachs hurt. Aelin and her new husband were summoned inside to consummate their marriage, signaling the end of the day’s festivities. Prince Sartaq disappeared into the darkness of the gardens with one of Prince Dorian’s companions. As if taking his cue, some of the others started to slip off.

The moon was full and bright as Elide wandered away from the light of the bonfires. She had no destination in mind, bare feet gliding aimlessly across the cool stones and grass wet with dew.

“Milady, you should turn in for the night.” Ser Lorcan stood behind her, white cloak gleaming silver in the moonlight. His silver armour was bright in the dark. “It’s very late.”

Elide simply laughed. “Come here and kiss me, Ser Lorcan.” The wine flowing through her veins left a flush in her cheeks and a heady rush in the rest of her body. She stepped closer until there was a barely a handslength between her nose and his breastplate. When she looked up at him, she found the knight watching her. His breath hitched as she stood on her toes, pouting when she was still too far away to kiss him. The darkness of his eyes shifted and she knew his resolve had broken, that she had won.

———————————

Doranelle’s silver-haired prince cocked his head, green eyes sharp like a hawk’s as they assessed him. “So this is what you’ve been up to since you left Maeve’s service,” Rowan said with an upward tilt to his lips. “You went from sharing a bed with the queen to a common sellsword, but now you’re a knight of Terrasen’s royal guard. I don’t know if that’s an improvement or not.”

Lorcan resisted the urge to punch Rowan. Barely.

Maeve had plucked Lorcan from the streets when he was barely old enough to hold a sword and threw him in with her nephew to learn the songs of steel and blood. They grew up together, at first hissing and spitting like feral cats until they were brothers in all but blood. When Rowan’s parents died, the queen took them in. Gavriel Lionheart took over their training, forging them into weapons for Maeve to use as she wished.

“I would tell you to eat shit and die,” Lorcan replied with a snort, crossing his arms. “But I can’t wait to see your new wife rip you to shreds, little brother.”

Their smiles were slow and bright before they embraced.

Hours passed in a dull monotony, seeing as Lorcan couldn’t exactly partake in the feasting and drinking and dancing. He let down his guard enough to leave Lady Elide to her own devices in the time it took him to eat enough to sate his grumbling stomach. Sweat dripped down his back under the silver armour and white cloak in the summer heat. The day waned and he relished the idea of his bed and a long, restful sleep. Unfortunately, he was to be denied even that simple pleasure. Lorcan yawned, envying those who made their way home.

The hour of the night grew late and things finally began to wind down. Lorcan trudged after Lady Elide, hoping to easily convince her to return to her bedchambers so he could sleep. Her wanderings were aimless through the gardens; he considered it a small miracle they hadn’t stumbled across anyone yet.

“Milady, you should turn in for the night,” Lorcan said finally. “It’s very late.” And I’m fucking exhausted was the part he left out.

Elide simply laughed. “Come here and kiss me, Ser Lorcan.”

Lorcan didn’t know if it was her or the wine talking. The temptation to throw her over his shoulder and return her to her rooms to sleep it off was strong. For a brief moment, he considered it, then abandoned the idea. If she didn’t kill him for it, the princess surely would. 

A more dangerous temptation unfurled itself in his chest: one where he kissed her. Lorcan watched her warily as she moved closer and stood on her toes with a pout. She looked absolutely stunning in that gown. War waged between his heart and mind, his heart emerging victorious in this battle.

He gave in to temptation and kissed her, hands cupping her face. Elide made a noise deep in her throat that had Lorcan deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth. A hand splayed on the small of her back pressed her body flush to his, a slight arch to her back. Her hands slipped into his hair, tugging lightly.

Lorcan groaned as he pulled away, forcing his legs to step back. If he didn’t stop now, he wouldn’t be able to later.

Hurt flashed on her face and it felt like a knife to the gut.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her retreating figure after she shoved past him for the second time that day. When Lorcan finally crawled into bed, his sleep was deep and dreamless.

———————————

Ignoring him was easier said than done.

Nevertheless, Elide did her best. She listened numbly as Aelin recounted the consummation and how awkward it was. When the princess asked what was wrong, Elide lied and said nothing. Elide knew Aelin knew she was lying. For once, the princess held her tongue.

The day before their return to Perranth finally arrived. Dread weighed heavily on her. Dread of the journey, dread of seeing her uncle again, dread of her own impending wedding. Vernon had agreed to wait until after Aelin’s wedding to begin pursing potential husbands for her.

The idea of running away briefly flitted through her mind. But she knew her uncle would hunt her to the ends of the world if she did.

The gardens were quiet as the sun neared setting. Broad leaves stretched long shadows on the ground, the air still thick with the day’s heat. Flowering plants perfumed the air. Elide winced as her ankle twisted and she stumbled. Pain flared angrily as she continued like nothing had happened, attempting to hide her limp.

“Elide, stop,” Ser Lorcan called out. “You’re hurting yourself.”

She continued on.

“Stop,” he barked. Lorcan rarely raised his voice, the fact that he did so now startling her. “Why can’t you just listen for once?” he growled, lengthening his stride to pass her and block the path with his stature. Elide stepped to the side, attempting to go around him. He mirrored her every move, hands in fists at his side.

Taking a step backward, Elide cried out in pain as her ankle gave way. Her knight caught her effortlessly, carrying her to the nearest stone bench and setting her down gently. Without asking for permission, he knelt and lifted her skirts enough to cradle her ankle in gentle, calloused hands.

“You need to see a healer,” he said. Elide looked off to the side, anywhere but him. Ser Lorcan reached up and gently turned her head to face him. “Talk to me, Elide. Please.” She had never heard him beg before. He sighed heavily at her lack of response. “Can you walk?” he asked. Shooting him a look like he was stupid for even asking, Elide stood and took a step back in the direction of the palace. Pain shot up her leg and she fell to her hands and knees, forcing back her scream.

With a soft grunt, he picked her up and cradled her to his chest. Elide stared at his opposite shoulder sullenly, gritting her teeth against the pain. The healer was summoned and he gave Elide a foul-tasting draught that knocked her into unconsciousness. Little else could be done, as old as the injury was. She caught snippets of a hushed argument between her knight and the healer as the world began to fall away, entirely uncaring of what was said.

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hehehe it's here !!! i'm also formatting + posting this while procrastinating my linear algebra hw so shhhhh the long awaited looong chapter where things finally kick into gear. some of the mirroring/parallels were not planned ummmm oh well it's fine (: so much happens in this part but in a good way

@nalgenewhore ✧ @celestialams ✧ @shyvioletcat ✧ @sassyhobbits ✧ @backtobl4ck ✧ @writtenonreceipts ✧ @destinysbullshit ✧ @goddess-aelin ✧ @illyrianbeauty ✧ @rosalineroses ✧ @elentiyawhitethorn ✧ @rowanisahunk ✧ @dreamingofalba ✧ @waternymphia ✧ @fancysludgeshoelamp ✧ @i-am-a-lost-girl16 ✧ @1islessthan3books ✧ @leiawritesstories ✧ @miceenscene ✧ @queenophelia

if you would like to be tagged in future chapters, please comment on the series masterlist

[lunadorned]

Exquisite.

Aelin and Rowan - Throne of Glass

Artist: @snowarox / @devnw

[lunadorned]

We see right through you two fools. Now kiss.

[lunadorned]

The things that haunt us.

Sarah Janet we need answers to the important questions.

[lunadorned]

@writtenonreceipts This is me, grabbing onto the swoon-wave like a life raft: 🛟 🏊🏻‍♀️ 🌊

Me Writing Angst:

[lunadorned]

“c’MoN bAbY, mAkE iT hUrT sO gOoD”

@writtenonreceipts

Okay but. Nothing I can’t recover from right?! Right?! 😭🥲🤪

Me Writing Angst:

[lunadorned]

I’ve always been so curious about The Little Folk!

Imagine their small but significant stories.

Who specifically was tasked with creating the mini crowns for Aelin and Rowan? How long did those creations take? How far did their carriers have to travel to get them to the queen and king?

Or was there an entire traveling party tasked with overseeing this precious cargo—these symbols of hope for the future? Is there a communication network that tracks the whereabouts of royals? Are there miniature missive scrolls passed from tiny hand to tiny hand like a long-distance relay race across the Oakwald?

And when is there going to be a Ghibli film about this?

Aelin and the Little Folk - Throne of Glass

Artist: @paintfaery

[lunadorned]

Mermaelin! Love everything about this fic.🧜‍♀️ 👧🏻🧜‍♂️ Thank you, @shyvioletcat.

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY EIGHT

~ Single Parent ~ Ah yes, this is always one of my favourite days. This is part two to my Fish are Friends fic, so please enjoy. @rowaelinscourt

~~~~~

“This guy is loaded.”

Aelin snorted at her friend's awed exclamation as she eased off on the accelerator coming up the long, paved driveway. The house wasn’t obnoxiously large, but it was well beyond decent with a pretty facade and well kept gardens. And if the price he had offered initially for her services today was anything to go by, yes Rowan did have money to burn. 

She had waited until she got home to text him back and to say yes to the offer of Ivy’s birthday party, claiming that now she had turned back into a mermaid she could talk mermaid business. With how the girl was so enamoured by the whole mermaid performance Aelin couldn’t even think of saying no. Rowan had immediately come back with a price just under what her gig at the aquarium paid in a fortnight and she stared at it wide eyed for a full minute. She knocked it back, then there was a mildly heated discussion over what the price should be. Rowan was overly generous, and Aelin helped equate the cost by saying she needed to bring a friend along to help her with her costume and they would split it. That had been fine, of course, and why Lysandra was sitting in the passenger seat. 

The car stopped and Lysandra was still peering out the windows trying to get a better look. “His wife, slash girlfriend, slash whatever must be living the life.”

“He’s divorced,” Aelin said, pushing the gear stick into park. 

“That’s an awfully weird thing to find out in a conversation that went for two minutes,” Lysandra added.

Aelin shrugged, seatbelt clicking as it undid. “Well his daughter did demand he kiss me.”

Lysandra paused from where she was checking over her make-up in the sun visor mirror, head turning sharply. “She what?”

“I had to keep the magic alive and I may have told her that I needed a kiss from my true love to stay a mermaid. There was something about a sea witch curse in there too.”

The mirror closed with a snap. “That’s real dedication.”

“Yes it is and that’s why I need you to go knock on the door and suss out where I need to go so Ivy doesn’t know I’m here until I’m dressed. I’m only human between three and six to her knowledge,” Aelin explained, gesturing to the dark wood door.

“I feel like there was an easier way to do this,” Lysandra said.

Aelin shooed her with a gesture of her hand. “I was under pressure, now go.”

Lysandra didn’t answer, just did what she was asked, hopping out of the car and making a show of knocking on the front door. Aelin sunk in her chair a little, ready to hide completely if anyone little appeared at the door. She managed to see an older woman with greying auburn hair look her way as Lysandra pointed to the car. There was some more conversing and then some nodding, and then Lysandra was coming back over to the car. 

She opened the car door and lent in. “So, that lady was Iris and she’s the grandmother. She said all the littlies are inside making bracelets or something so you are all clear to sneak in using the side gate and use the pool house to get ready.” 

“Fantastic,” Aelin replied and didn’t waste any time. Children were unpredictable, who knows when they might choose to stampede outside. “Let’s go.”

The two of them unloaded the gear, managing to get it all gathered together in one load. Tail and accessories in hand, the side gate was easy enough to spot. Aelin led the way, listening out for an excitable little girl who’s birthday she did not want to ruin. Sounds of laughter and music came from inside the house, but Aelin ignored it all and headed straight to the pool house. Luckily, the blinds were down on the floor to ceiling windows saving them the trouble. It was a tidy space, besides the child’s toys stacked in a corner. There were a few lounges, a small kitchenette and a door Aelin assumed led to a bathroom. 

The gear was dumped on one of the lounges and Aelin started to strip off. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

~~~~~

Rowan tried to keep his hand steady even as the little girl in front of him was determined not to stay still. Ivy had begged him to do face painting at her party, and of course he was going to say yes. He had spent the last month practising on paper, his daughter and even his friends when they let him. Rowan had been good to start with, and now he was considering making it a weekend job. Not really, being a deputy principal during the week and being a full time dad was more than enough work for him. But at least it was therapeutic. 

“Hold still for just one more second,” Rowan told the brown haired girl sitting in front of him. She huffed, but listened, the lure of a unicorn horn and ears overriding the need to see what was going on. Adding a few last details on the horn to really give it some sparkle and then he was done. “There.”

Rowan didn’t need to say more than that and the girl was off. He wiped his hands on an old tea towel and was about to refill some of the snack bowls when his mother approached him looking like she was holding in a secret. 

She sidled up close, beckoning him a little closer so Rowan had to lean in as she whispered. “Your mermaid is here.”

“Oh,” Rowan said, taking a look around. “Where?”

“I sent her and her friend to the pool house,” Iris said. “After Ivy’s rave reviews I’m excited to see her myself.”

Because Aelin was all Ivy could talk about and she already fawned over her to anyone who would listen in her select circle of people she chose to talk to. Rowan had kept the mermaid appearance under wraps and he was glad to see his surprise hadn’t been ruined. His daughter was going to lose her mind. 

“Pool time!” Rowan announced to the room, excited squeals drowning out his chance to say anything else. 

Ivy was by his side in a second, pulling at her dress so she could get to the swimsuit she had insisted on wearing underneath. Rowan helped her before he could do some damage, revealing the mermaid scale patterned one piece with a frilly little tutu skirt around her waist.  

“Come on, Dad!” Ivy said, pulling on his hand  and trying to drag him towards the pool.

Rowan smiled at her eagerness. “Hold up, we gotta wait for everyone else to be ready.”

That didn’t take long at all and it was only about 10 minutes later that everyone was crowded around the new location for gathering. To help ease the minds of the parents he’d paid a couple of his friends to be honorary lifeguards. In the end he had chosen Connall and Vaughan, and it had taken some heavy consideration. Lorcan was out because his lack of care and observation might just end in disaster. Fenrys’ sole purpose would be showing off shirtless in front of the mums and anyone else who found themselves interested, and Rowan needed the children in the water to be the priority. And even though Vaughan had similar motives, he would at least include the supervision of the children in his displays. Connall was the easy decision because, besides Rowan himself, he was the most level headed and had more than an ounce of common sense. 

“Excuse me.”

Rowan turned at the unfamiliar voice behind him. A stunning brunette who he did not recognise stood there. She didn’t have the look of one of the parents and she wasn’t a caterer—she was dressed too casually for that. It had him wondering who she was.

“Hi, I’m sorry but…”

“Oh, Lysandra,” she said, a hand on her chest. “Friend of Aelin.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Rowan extended his hand for a handshake which was returned. 

“Likewise,” Lysandra said. “Aelin is ready but we’ve hit a bit of a snag.”

“How so?” Trying not to sound too panicked at the potential flow in his party plans.

“Um, she can’t exactly walk out of there.”

Rowan felt the confusion on his face as he tried to figure it out. 

Lysandra smiled. “She doesn’t have legs.”

“Oh, right,” Rowan said, laughing a little. “What do you need me to do?”

“It’s a good thing you at least look strong,” Lysandra said, beckoning Rowan to follow. 

“Mam, can you watch Ivy and the pool,” Rowan threw over his shoulder—her affirmative answer sounding as he headed towards the pool house. 

The blinds were closed and Rowan did one last check of the pool before he ducked into the building right behind Lysandra. Aelin sat on one of the lounges in her full get-up, tail and seashells and the make-up that had her face sparkling. Once again, he was struck by how beautiful this woman was, it was an impossible thing not to notice.

“Nice to see you again,” she said with a little wave. 

“You too,” Rowan said, then hastily added. “And thank you. For doing this.”

“Anything for the kids, right?” Aelin said. 

“Speaking of, should we get to it?” Rowan asked.

Aelin gave a flourish of her hands down the length of her body. “By all means.”

Rowan tried not to be awkward as he bent down and scooped Aelin up bridal style, she even draped her arms around his neck. The tail made her stiffer than other women he’d carried like this, but he managed. 

“If you could get the door?” Rowan asked Lysandra. 

“Of course.”

Rowan was concentrating so hard as he stepped through the doorway, trying his best not to knock Aelin’s head or tail. She must have been concerned as well because her grip tightened and she hugged herself closer to him. He managed it all without incident and brought them safely into the sun. 

“Look who I found in the bathtub!” Rowan announced, drawing the attention of the party. Ivy’s exclamation of Aelin rang out over all of it. He lowered his voice so only Aelin could hear. “Where do you want me to set you down?”

“Shallow end, by the steps,” Aelin replied quietly before turning her attention to the party. “I heard it was someone’s birthday.”

Rowan set Aelin down and Ivy was there a heartbeat later. 

“It’s me, Aelin. It’s my birthday,” Ivy said nearly climbing onto the mermaid. 

Aelin graciously took it all in her stride, wrapping her arm around the girl. “I couldn’t miss that.”

Within moments Aelin had control of the party, all the kids flocking to her and her magnetic energy. Rowan left her to it, heading outside the pool fence to grab himself a drink. He grabbed a beer from the cooler in the kitchen before returning to the back patio to watch the show. There was no doubt in his mind that Aelin would be putting on a performance if her work at the aquarium was anything to go by. 

“Dude, you got a mermaid?” That overly question came from Fenrys, who had appeared next to Rowan, face still decorated with a large rainbow and a collection of stars. Ivy had insisted her uncle get his face painted and like everyone else in her life, he hadn’t refused. “She looks legit. Where’d you find her?”

“The aquarium,” Rowan answered before taking a sip from the beer bottle in his hand. 

“I don’t know if you’re kidding or not,” Fenrys said. 

That made Rowan laugh. “I’m being serious. She works at the aquarium, and Ivy fell in love with her the other day. I asked her if she did private functions and she said yes.”

“Private functions? That sounds shifty as hell,” Fenrys added. 

Rowan thought for a moment, recalling how Aelin had stalled and the awkwardness had skyrocketed. It was nearly enough to make him flush with embarrassment again. 

“Yeah, I realised my error in wording pretty quickly,” Rowan admitted. 

“How much did she cost?”

That voice was female and accusatory, it made Fenrys grimace sympathetically before he left Rowan to deal with answering. He turned around, finding his ex-wife just behind him, glaring in the direction of the pool before her eyes darted back to him. Waiting. 

Strained was an apt description to describe the relationship between him and Lyria. They had been high school sweethearts that decided to get married before they knew anything of the world. They’d stuck it out years longer than they should have, divorce had been up for discussion when they’d found out Lyria was pregnant. It hadn’t helped the already precarious relationship and by the time Ivy was two Rowan found himself a first year teacher and a single father with majority custody. He had been ready to fight for Ivy but it was an obvious choice considering the stability and flexibility of his job. Rowan was guaranteed a job with manageable hours, he’d have school breaks off, and with the money he made plus what he had from his family to back him, allocating him as primary carer was an easy choice. It just left him open to continual criticism over the choices he made about raising his daughter, especially when it came to money. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Rowan said. “She’s made Ivy’s day, what’s more important than that?”

Lyria hummed her objection, her gaze darting over to their daughter again at a bright burst of laughter. “You need to stop throwing money at things just to make her happy. She’ll grow up with a skewed view of the world, not knowing what the real world is like.”

Rowan resisted rolling his eyes. They’d had this discussion before, and they’d have it again. She always accused him of spoiling their daughter in the worst way. And maybe he did, to an extent, but Rowan was also sensible to a fault as his friend’s like to point out. 

“We figured it out, and so will she,” Rowan said. “Hopefully sooner than we did, hmm?”

He left Lyria to muse over that, not wanting to have this fight and potentially ruin the party. Rowan decided his time was better spent refilling the snack bowls and checking the cake hadn’t been damaged in the fridge. Once those menial tasks were done and his beer finished, Rowan wandered to the poolside again. 

Aelin was in the water now, showing the kids how she swam from one end to the other with her tail. It wasn’t just the kids watching either, like at the aquarium she had the whole crowd entranced. Rowan took up a spot on the transparent fence waiting to see what Aelin might be up to next. She’d stopped swimming and sat on one of the pool steps, from her hips down in the water. Bubble bottles had been conjured from somewhere and all the kids sat in a row having a competition to see who could blow the biggest one. Aelin pursed her lips, bubble wand poised in her hands. He was again struck by how beautiful she was, and just as he had been that day at the aquarium Rowan found it hard to look away. 

The makeup she wore still remained intact depite he time in the water, the gold shimmer around her eyes highlighting their unusual colour. What had him damn near entranced was her smile, it seemed to brighten her entire being. Rowan felt like he was getting dangerously close to leering—respectfully—when he was interrupted.

“Not, bad Ro. Not bad at all,” Fenrys said, his only reply was an eye roll. “You don’t have to dent it, mermaids are hot.”

“I didn’t know you had that much experience,” Rowan quipped back. 

“I’ve been chatting to her friend. Did you know she’s a mermaid too?” Fenrys asked.

“I did not,” Rowan replied flatly. 

“Well, she is. And just like your friend here, she’s smoking. You did me a solid favour,” Fenrys went on to say. 

Rowan sent his friend a questioning look. “What does that mean?”

Fenrys backed away, shrugging his shoulders and giving Rowan a conspiratorial wink to an unknown conspiracy.    

Ivy saved him from being made to suffer through more idiocy, her damp hand patting his forearm where it rested on the top of the fence. “Daddy, I need to ask you something.”

Rowan stepped back so that he could lean down a little closer. “What is it, love?”

“Um, can I… wait. No, can you—“

Ivy’s rambling had him confused but half a second later it was all made clear. A wave of water hit him, drenching his head and arms, the rest of him saved by the protection of the fence. Ivy was caught in it too, but she just cheered and laughed, trying to clap but the floaties on her arms stopped her hands from meeting fully. Rowan wiped the water from his face and saw Aelin swimming away, smiling and sending him a wink. Rowan let out a chuckle at the antics, grinning broadly at the uncontrollable giggles bubbling out of Ivy. 

“We got him!” Ivy squealed and then launched herself back in the pool. 

He saw on Aelin’s face the mirror of his own lurching gut as Ivy hit the water. She knew how to swim of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to throw her a pool party if she didn’t, but most confidently with assistance. The concern for her safety was hard to shake, and luckily Aelin was right there, arms out to keep the girl’s head well and truly above water. 

Rowan had no idea how Aelin was able to do everything she did without sinking to the bottom of the pool. If he had his legs bound together he would not be doing so well. His shirt was clinging to him uncomfortably and decided to change. So he left his daughter to the mermaid, knowing that she was in safe hands. Or maybe that was fins.

~~~~~

Aelin hadn’t expected to have this much fun at a kids birthday party. It might have been because Ivy was just so stinking cute and enthralled by the whole mermaid thing that it was hard not to be infected by it as well. Or it might have been because the pay was just that good it was an immediate mood booster. Aelin had expected it to be the latter, when in fact it was the former. 

She had been in the pool for a good two hours, playing around and telling stories. When the kids started to shiver the parents had dutifully begun to dry them off. With the afternoon sun fading behind the clouds it was hard to keep warm, and that included Aelin. Her tail offered no insulation and just made the situation worse. Even though the kids begged for more entertainment while drying off or returning to the poolside, Aelin could feel the goosebumps on her skin even when she tried to ignore them. Soon she would start shivering and she was sure her lips would start turning blue. There was a lull in the activity around her and Aelin looked around for Lysandra or at least Rowan, hoping to flag either one of them down to get some help getting out of the pool. 

Neither was within Aelin’s sight, and a shudder went from head to hip, everything lower down completely immobile. She needed to get out of her tail, and fast. Looking around again Aelin spied Ivy talking to a woman sitting on one of the pool chairs. Her brown hair was wavy and her gentle face seemed to hang on every work Ivy said. If Aelin were to hazard a guess, she would say that woman was the girl’s mother. 

“Ivy,” Aelin called, her voice catching because she was just that cold. “Hey, Ivy.”

That time Ivy heard her, quickly walking over because she had announced more than once that her father said there was no running around the pool. “Hi, Aelin.”

“Sweetie, I wonder if you could find your dad for me,” Aelin said. 

“Yeah, I can.” The little girl was excited and easy to please. 

But on the way past the woman stopped Ivy, catching her by the hand. “We should get you dried off for cake.”

Aelin nearly groaned, because that was enough to divert Ivy attention completely. Watching Ivy being led away Aelin started cursing her friend who had somehow entirely disappeared without a trace. She kept looking over the various adults milling around and moving into the semi alfresco dining area readying for cake. Never spotting Lysandra, Aelin eyed the cement around the pool and contemplated the damage to her skin and tail if she had to crawl her way back to the pool house. The children might just die from shock if she stripped off her tail here. 

The chorus of ‘happy birthday’ sang out from the house and Aelin peered through the crowd to see Ivy beaming at her expertly mermaid themed decorated cake. This was now ridiculous. Lysandra knew the kid even less than Aelin did, if she was in there singing along and hoping for a slice of cake while she was freezing her tits off out here.

“Where is she?” Aelin muttered as she wrapped her arm around herself. 

This silicone tail might be the death of her. All she could do was be resigned to her fate. Aelin zoned out, keeping her body distracted and warm as she could by flicking her tail through the water. The sound of the pool gate creaking had her looking over and found Rowan approaching, a plate in hand. 

“I brought you some cake,” he said.

“Thanks,” Aelin replied, voice unsteady. 

That was enough to stop Rowan in his tracks, and Aelin watched his eyes dart over her. “You’re blue.”

“It’s turquoise, actually,” Aelin said, pushing a lock of damp hair out of the way. 

Rowan put the cake on one of the pool chairs. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. What didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried to send Ivy to you but she got distracted,” she nodded over at the cake. “By cake.”

Rowan just shook his head, motioning for her to get ready to be picked up. Aelin bent her knees the best she could now that her legs were stiff and cold, and let herself be scooped up. He carried her back to the pool house, Aelin holding on tight while there was some awkward manoeuvring around the door handle. 

“Where’s best?” Her saviour asked. 

Aelin couldn’t stop the whole body shiver. “Uhh, here. I just need to get this tail off.”

Rowan obliged, easing her down onto the couch. It was difficult and awkward but Aelin rolled to the side and started battling with her zipper. Her cold and numb fingers were completely useless, all they did was slip and fumble. When she swore viciously she heard Rowan halt in his exit. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

Aelin gave up and flopped onto her stomach, she had never felt more like a fish in her whole career as a mermaid. “I can’t get out of my godsdamned tail.”

“Oh. Should I go see if I can find your friend?”

“No.” Aelin blurted out, quite loudly and on the wrong side of desperation. She was ready to start begging. “I need it off, now. Can you help me?”

~~~~~

Rowan just stood there, blinking down at the mermaid sprawled out on his couch. He could see goosebumps raised on her exposed skin, she was obviously freezing. The smartest option was to go and find her friend because he had never once in his life removed anything close to this tail. He didn’t know how, didn’t know where to begin. 

“I feel like this isn’t a job for me,” Rowan said. 

“I feel like a literal popsicle, and I’m not beyond begging right now,” Aelin said, and he swore that her teeth were chattering. 

“If you insist,” Rowan said, leaning down and finding the top of the zipper. 

It might have been the most impressive zipper he had ever seen, sturdy and strong, it had to be to hold the silicone together. Awkwardly unfortunate for him, it sat tight over her ass and it was hard not to touch it in the process. At least the materials were thick and Rowan told himself that was the firmness he was feeling. He tugged the tail down, but everything came to a rushing stop when he caught sight of what Aelin wore underneath. Peeking through the gap between the zipper sides near the top of her hips was a dark blue thong.

“Is it stuck?” Aelin asked with a glance over her shoulder.

Rowan felt his face flush, only deepening his embarrassment. “Ah, no.”

She laughed, maybe at him, maybe it was the situation. “I’m not shy.”

And by the gods did he believe that. Rowan ignored the flaming in his cheeks and the hint of a broad grin on Aelin’s face as she turned back around. “I’ll, uh… close my eyes then.”

Like he said he would, Rowan kept his eyes closed and let the zipper run its natural course. And then he didn’t know where else he was supposed to try and extract it. 

“You have to pull at the hips and then work your way down, then do it all again until it comes all the way off,” she explained. 

“Right,” Rowan said. That would be mighty hard to do with his eyes closed. 

But Rowan gave it his best effort, fumbling between closed eyes and squinting. When there was a tug that gave way more than he was expecting on instinct his eyes opened, a hand flying out to stop himself from falling right on top of Aelin. His hand was lucky, his eyes not so much. He copped an eyeful. 

Just as quickly he shut them, but the damage was done. He wouldn’t be forgetting that sight any time soon. Rowan went back to his task and in the end when she was free enough Aelin ended up kicking the tail off herself. Respectfully he kept his eyes down, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“There’s a shower you can use, it’ll get you warmed up,” he offered. “There’s clean towels and everything in there.”

“Thank you,” Aelin said. 

Rowan left her to it, and even though she’d undoubtedly take a shower he was still concerned. Back inside the party had died down, mainly just family remaining, so he went to the kitchen and turned the kettle on. While that boiled he went upstairs and retrieved a hoodie. The day had started out fairly warm but without the sun the atmosphere had begun to chill. If she didn’t bring anything with her she’d just catch te cold again. 

By the time he got back down to the kitchen the kettle was done and he filled a mug with water, along with grabbing a few selections of teas. No one noticed him leave and head back to the pool house. Most thankfully Ivy remained oblivious. She was better off not knowing Aelin was out there un-mermaidified and the magic be ruined at the end of such a perfect day. 

Rowan knocked and heard a faint Come in. Aelin was sitting on the couch, dressed in leggings and a loose shirt. She was drying her hair with a towel, looking much better than she had a few minutes before. 

“I brought you some tea,” Rowan said, gesturing to the mug. “And a jumper if you needed it.”

“Thank you.” Aelin took both and slipped the hoodie right over her head. The hood caught on her head and the rest of the fabric drowned her. But she at least looked warm and content. 

Rowan offered the teabags and Aelin took a few moments to decide. She picked and dropped the bag into the awaiting water. 

“You did a great job today,” Rowan offered. “Although you didn’t have to go as one as you did.” 

Aelin picked up the string and bobbed the tea bag up and down. “How could I not? Ivy was having such a good time.”

“Still, it wasn’t something to risk your health over.”

“Not the worst situation I’ve been in,’ Aelin said, taking a sip of her tea and sighed. 

The door opened suddenly and for one sickening moment Rwan thought Ivy might have tracked him down. But instead it was Lysandra, turning up from who knew where to finally help out her friend. 

“Where have you been?” Aelin demanded, putting down her tea. 

Lysandra gave a noncommittal twist of her shoulders. “Here and there.”

“I nearly died,” Aelin said drastically. 

Lysandra actually shot Rowan before looking back at Aelin. “I am sure that’s not what happened.”

“You know what?” Rowan said, cutting through the building tension. “Why don’t I keep an eye out and you guys can head off?”

“Great idea,” Aelin said, putting her mug on the low table and pointing a damning finger at her friend. “If you think you’re getting a cut of the money you’re severely mistaken. You did nothing for me today.”

Lysandra actually laughed at her friend’s theatrics and Rowan decided this would be the best time to leave. He went and stood by the corner of the pool fence where he had a good view of anyone who might be coming outside. It wasn’t long before Aelin and Lysandra left the pool house, a hissed conversation passing between them as they headed for the side gate. Just before disappearing around the side of the house aelin stopped, giving him a broad smile and a wave. Waving back, he had to admit that he was sorry they hadn;t had more time to chat. 

As Rowan watched her disappear from sight he was disappointed that he didn’t have another excuse to see Aelin again. Maybe he would have to take another trip to the aquarium just to see what might happen next if he by pure chance she was there too. 

~~~~~

I’m currently in a quirky hotel room and posting from my iPad so I’m not even going to attempt the disaster that is tagging at the moment.

[lunadorned]

This is now canon. So beautifully written. Thank you for this masterpiece, @cicada-bones. Re-reading, and it’s just as captivating as the first time.💕 A perfect insight into Rowan’s thoughts.

The Warrior and The Embers

Heir of Fire from Rowan’s POV - link to Ao3

COMPLETED: link to the pdf of the completed fic - formatted with my page-break drawings 🖤

link to The Warrior and the Wildfire (sequel - QoS Rpov fic)

This will obviously comply with canon (though I am going to add lots of details to fill in the blanks, including snippets of other POV’s), and (almost) all dialogue will come directly from Heir of Fire.

Chapter Masterlist below:

Keep reading

[lunadorned]

Soooooo cute!

Rowaelin Month Day Six: Forced Proximity @rowaelinscourt

link to masterlist here

She is a mess because I wrote her in one day between doing my real job and trying not to cry xoxo

Warnings: mild covid references/quarantine days, very poorly edited

level of concern (tell me we're alright)

The apartment was too small.  Aelin hadn’t noticed it until now, but two rooms and a single bathroom with a kitchen that easily melted into the living room was hardly enough space for two people.  Two people who hated each other.

Aelin threw herself down on the couch, gripping her coffee in one hand.  She’d long ago mastered the art of equilibrium where any sort of caffeine was involved so she didn’t spill anything as she sprawled across the plush cushions.  Groaning, she leaned her head back and tried, so very hard, not to lose her ever loving mind.

It was only week three of quarantine and she was going insane.

She missed going outside whenever she felt like it.  She missed going shopping.  She missed her friends.  She missed people.  Instead, she was trapped here with the one person she did not want to be.

“Do you always have to sound like a dying whale?” A very unamused voice called from the kitchen table, a grand ‘ol four steps away.

Aelin flashed a single finger over the top of the couch.  She got a grunt of disapproval in return.

“It’s eight twenty-two, well outside of your precious quiet hours,” she informed her roommate. “I can do whatever I want.”

Another grunt.

Aelin shifted to peek over the couch to glare. “You sound like a dying walrus.”

And Rowan Whitethorn promptly choked on his cereal.  Two days in a row—Aelin was on a winning streak.

When Aelin first moved to Doranelle three months ago, her plan was to have her own apartment, a dog, a perfect new job, and a social life.  What she got was a crash landing with her nemesis, no dog, the worst job known to man, and quarantine.

She and Rowan had been at each other's throats since they met one fateful night at a bar.  Rowan spilled beer on her, an accident, and promptly insulted her two minutes later after trying to hit on her.

As it turned out, he was friends with Aelin’s old roommates' boyfriends.  She should have known he was the worst considering he and Lorcan Salvaterre got on.  

The bar scene ended with a fight, more beer spillage (on purpose), and a promise of vengeance.

Unfortunately for Aelin, her prospective lease fell through and she would have been homeless if not for the extra room in Rowan’s apartment.  And then covid struck and Aelin was trapped.

Hence, her beached whale position (and sounds) from the couch.  Life was one cosmic joke after another.

“You don’t always have to make your presence known, y’know,” Rowan commented as he pretended, he hadn’t almost had multi-grain Wheaties shooting out of his nose.

“Of course I do,” Aelin argued, “how else can I annoy you before quiet hours begin?”

His green eyes flashed and he rose from his seat at the table, already dressed in a button up and slacks.  For Zoom meetings.  Like a lunatic.  If he’d been wearing a tie she would have teased him for it.  Of all things the man should still be in shorts and a t-shirt.  At least the button up stretched in interesting ways over Rowan’s broad shoulders.  He might have been the bane of her existence but he was nice to look at.

“Don’t you have a job?” he asked, putting his dishes in the sink. “Ah, I forgot, you don’t.”

“Freelance writing is a job,” Aelin said.  She sat up straighter so she could better glare at him. “It’s not my fault things have slowed down.”

Indeed, Aelin’s literature degree had taken a hit given the state of the world right now.  She’d hoped she would have a job at a major publishing company or magazine or something.  Instead, she’d been rejected from job after job and was trying to write freelance articles to keep up on rent.  It…wasn’t going well.  Which had led her to content creating for Instagram.  She read books and talked about them and it kept her somewhat sane.  Until Rowan mocked her for it.

“Rent’s due on the fifth!” he called as he disappeared down the hall to his room to shut in for his work day to begin.

Aelin had no idea what he did, only that it involved not having a sense of humor.  Something with marketing?  But his degree was in history if Elide was right…

She shrugged and took a long sip of her coffee.  She had less than twenty minutes before quiet hours started at eight-forty and ended at five thirty when the work day ended and she had every intention of making as much noise as possible.

…

Rowan knew he was an ass.  He’d always been known as the asshole throughout high school, college, the steps in-between.  Even his friends often thought he was worse than Lorcan.  Lorcan of all people.

Granted, ever since Elide came into the picture, Lorcan had mellowed out and even smiled once a week.

Rowan found scowling to be more beneficial.  Especially when it came to getting Sam Cortland to shut up in the daily staff meetings they had over Zoom.

His degree was in art history and appraising--a limited degree where all he’d wanted to do was work in a museum organizing exhibits.  Not writing legal documents for rich men to take art from their rightful owners.

The irony was not lost on him that perhaps he shouldn’t give Aelin such a hard time about her job and the fact she wasn’t using her degree very much.  

The only problem was he’d dug himself into a hole and now he had no idea how to get out.

Aelin, for all eccentricities, was smart and did work hard.  She was doing everything possible to stay afloat--sarcasm included.

Their first meeting at the bar had only gone so miserable because Rowan didn’t know when to shut up and apparently had a unique skill of insulting beautiful women.  What a time to learn that.

English?  Isn’t that the easiest thing to study?

She should have slapped him and not just dumped beer in his lap.

Rowan leaned back in his seat as the project manager started talking over the new contract that would be drawn up between a client and their acquisitions.  It continued on for too long and Rowan just wanted to get back to his own assignments.  By the time late afternoon rolled around, he was ready to log off and be done for the day.

He’d always considered himself to be a homebody, but this was getting ridiculous.  He wanted to be out doing things.  But the trails were closed, his friends were spread out over the country, and there was the risk of a disastrous illness running amuck.

So he was trapped in an apartment with Aelin Galathynius.  The place had always felt enormous until she’d moved in.  But she had a way of filling every space she occupied.  Other than the various bathroom accouterments she had there were the dozens of fleece blankets, the books, the personality.  Even he had to admit she was different from anyone he’d met before.

Unfortunately, she was very good at holding grudges.

He’d tried apologizing for getting off on the wrong foot when she first moved in, but her mind was already made up.  Then came the way she was loud, talkative, rambunctious.  Quarantine was not meant for her.  After one day he’d realized that she needed space and freedom and the ability to do whatever she wanted.  The jury was still out on how he felt about that.

He was finally able to mute his other coworkers when a loud crash echoed from the kitchen.  Rowan rolled his eyes.  It was two, so of course Aelin was getting snacky.  He’d clocked her eating habits and quickly learned she needed to eat at least eight times a day to be in a good mood.  Seven of those times had to involve chocolate.

She had been doing better at keeping quiet while he was in his zoom meetings so Rowan tried to control his ire.  Really, she hadn’t been a bad roommate.  She’d tried to keep the peace between them and even offered to include him on DoorDash orders.  All of her orders were from the local dessert shop and Rowan didn’t eat much sugar so that didn’t help matters.   

Another crash from the kitchen followed by the patter of feet to the linen closet.

“Damndamndamndamn,” Aelin chanted as she went.

Rowan froze.  She’d broken his sink again, hadn’t she?  He glanced at his computer but no one was paying attention, all engaged in their own work.  Besides, he could step away from a minute if he needed to.

Standing, Rowan slipped into the hall and down to the kitchen.  He braced himself for anything and everything.  Knowing Aelin there could be a dead body.

What he was completely unprepared for was the settling plume of flour and mess of various baking items scattered around the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

Aelin turned from the counter, her blonde hair spilling out of a messy bun.  Her t-shirt and shorts (that showed off her lean legs) were covered in a mix of flour and butter, her face smudged too.  He knew he should stop staring.  Really, he’d seen her first thing in the morning looking like the walking dead and in the middle of the night crying to Taylor Swift.  And now, covered in flour, eyes wide with panic.  He would admit it only to himself and deny it if anyone asked him--but she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“It’s cookie Friday,” Aelin said, she had a towel in one hand, spatula in the other.  A bottle of vanilla was tipped over as she was trying to mop up the mess. “Sorry.”

“You hate cooking, or baking, or anything involving an oven,” Rowan reminded her.

“Which is why I’m only going to eat the dough raw,” Aelin said, voice growing quieter with each word.  Her blue eyes were comically wide as she gestured around the kitchen. “Then the thing exploded and the other thing tipped over and it turned into a mess and I was trying to be quiet because you are a grumpy buzzard, even on Fridays, and I know you’re at work but I really needed cookies.”

Aelin continued to look at him with her large eyes as she offered a sympathetic shrug of her shoulders.  

"Sorry?"

Rowan didn't know if he should laugh or be irritated or something else.  But all he really could do was stare at her.  It was such an Aelin thing for her to do that really, he couldn't be mad.

"You know raw cookie dough is bad for you right?" He asked.

"No, it literally feeds the soul," she set.

With a wet thwack, she dropped the towel in the sink and righted the vanilla bottle.  Most of it had spilled out leaving a sickly-sweet scent cloying in the air. "And I don't care what scientists or other miserable things you read say."

Rowan rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to try and reason with her. "Alright fine.  Eat your salmonella."

"I will, thank you," she said.  A patch of flour still clung to her cheek giving her bravado a little less umph than he was sure she wanted. "And I'll clean up, no need to worry your poor old heart about that."

"I'm not old," he said.  Thirty was a perfectly reasonable age.

"Yeah, yeah."  She patted herself down, sending little plumes of flour all over the place.  She tried righting her hair, but it seemed to be of no use—most of the tendrils had broken free and she was stuck with a curling mass in the nape of her neck. "Go back to work, I'm sure nothing will get done without you."

And Rowan in a bought of what had to be pure reckless abandonment shook his head. "Nah.  I'm not that important."

Aelin raised a brow. "Really? Even with your real degree and real work you put into college."

Well.  He deserved that. 

"Yeah?"

Aelin eyed him skeptically before tossing another clean towel at him. "You get the floor I'll get the cabinets."

And then because the apartment had somehow shrunk in the last three months—they were continually in each other’s way.  Rowan brushing her leg, Aelin grabbing his shoulder when she nearly fell over while reaching for the top cabinets, both going for the sink at the same time.  It was chaos.  And because Rowan didn't know how to sort out his own feelings, he found his skin heating at each touch, his heart race at each glance.  And he knew, he knew he was a fool.  But if the past three months had taught him anything—it was that he could be very wrong about a great deal of things.

When the kitchen was somewhat restored to order.  Aelin sighed. "I guess that'll have to do.  I'll dig out the real cleaning products in a minute, I have to meet with one of my editors.  Hopefully one of my articles was accepted this time."

She said the last part flippantly, but Rowan could sense the tension rolling off of her.  She wanted that job to go through, needed it.  

"I'm sure it will," he said.

Aelin rolled her eyes. "You don't have to offer a pity compliment buzzard; I know it's not your style."

“It’s not--” Rowan cursed and looked away, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “We both know what I said back then wasn’t true.  I know it must have taken work and dedication to get your degree.”

“Thanks.  It did.” She was unapologetic with her bold words, just as he would expect her to be. “I won’t keep you.  I promise I’ll have the rest of this cleaned up before bed.”

“It’s fine,” Rowan said. 

Aelin grabbed the dirty towels to take to the small laundry alcove but Rowan stopped her.

“You’ve got flour,” he tried to explain that there was still a steak of flour on her cheek, but he was already reaching out, brushing it away with a quick swipe of his thumb.

Aelin froze, watching him as if she didn’t recognize him.  Not that he could blame her, he was actually being nice.  Her lips parted as if to say something, but Rowan’s phone gave a loud ping from where he’d left it in his room.  He’d hooked his notifications onto a larger speaker setting so he wouldn’t miss anything during the day if he got up to leave his desk.

“Work calls, right?”  Aelin joked with a small, half smile.  And then she was gone down the hall.

Rowan cursed again, running a hand over his face. 

“Get it together, Whitethorn,” he muttered, before he too returned to his room.

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

tags are a joke rn. please consider reblogging?

love yall

[lunadorned]

My babygurls.

@officialvalkyrieweek | Valkyrie Week: Day 06 - Valkyries  

Nesta opened the brown paper and beheld a stack of pagesfilled with writing. At the top of the first page, it merely said, ChapterTwenty-One. Sheread the first few lines beneath it, then nearly dropped the pages. “This—thisis about us.”

Gwyn beamed. “I convinced Merrill to add us into thepenultimate chapter. She even let me write it—with her ownannotations, of course. But it’s about therebirth of the Valkyries. About what we’re doing.”

Nesta had no words. Emerie’s hands were once more shaking asshe leafed through the pages. “You had this much to sayabout us?” Emerie said,choking on a laugh.

Gwyn rubbed her hands together. “With more to come.”

Nesta read a line at random on the fifth page. Whether thesun beat hot on their brows or freezing rain turned their bones toice, Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyneth arrived atpractice each morning, ready to …

The back of her throat ached; her eyes stung. “We’re in a book.”

Gwyn’s fingers slid into hers, squeezing tight. Nestalooked up to find her holding Emerie’s free hand as well. Gwyn smiledagain, her eyes bright. “Our stories are worthtelling.”

- ACOSF

Art by: _inkye

Commissioned by: @melphss & @llibiarts

[lunadorned]

I can just imagine those late nights of textual tension between these two! You set this scene so well, @writtenonreceipts. I felt like I was at the bar next to Fenrys watching it unfold with this face:😍. Thank you for the Rowaelin Month treat!

Rowaelin Month Day Five: A Bad Date @rowaelinscourt

Link to my Rowaelin Month Masterlist

~3K words—welcome to cliché hell.  Enjoy your stay.

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

The Words We Share--Part One

Sam Cortland was the absolute definition of asshole and Aelin Galathynius could make her point in three simple facts.  He didn’t tip well.  He spoke for her.  And he consistently forgot when they had dinner plans.

Which was how Aelin found herself sitting at a table alone at one of the nicest restaurants in the city trying not to look at the final roll sitting in the bread basket.  She’d already scarfed down the other three, she really shouldn’t eat the third.  Especially not now as she could catch the looks her waitress and others were passing her way.  She’d at least only gone through one glass of wine and was nursing a water.

Aelin would have owned up to the idea of eating alone, she was a confident woman--she didn’t need anyone’s validation.  By now, it was too late.  Nearly an hour had passed since she’d been seated and she’d told her waitress she was waiting for someone else.  That combined with the fact that she look sexy as hell with a tight green dress, her hair perfectly curled and her make up sharper and neater than any awards show actress.

She’d have to live up to the fact that she’d been stood up.

Hell.

She wished she could say this was the first time Sam had done this.  Wished she could say that he would make it up to her later.  Wished she could say that it didn’t really bother her.

Aelin glanced at her phone.  One missed text but that was from Elide.

>>Elide: anything?

<<Aelin: no. I texted him twice.  It’s been forty-five mins.  I’ve well and good passed the pathetic mark.

>>Elide: ur not pathetic.  Imma report his insta for porn hold on

Aelin rolled her eyes at the message.  Elide had been her friend since college when they were first paired together on a project.  It had turned into a mess of over caffeination and potential misuse of school property but they’d been inseparable ever since.  It was Elide who had helped Aelin get the job she had now with Terrasen Publishing as a content creator.  She had a full social media platform where she could share books, reviews and all the likes.  She even hosted the company's podcast on a bi-weekly basis. 

As far as Aelin was concerned, she was successful.  She was capable.  She was well on her way to reaching so many of her goals.

Sam, it seemed, couldn’t care less about her.

This was supposed to be a dinner to celebrate her promotion.  Dorian, the actual CEO of the company had allowed her to open her own department as Lead Content Creator.  She’d be her own manager, get a pay-raise, have more liberties with what she could do, get an office credit card, hell she’d be able to hire her own assistant.  She’d told Sam she wanted to celebrate by coming here to her favorite restaurant no matter how expensive it was.  She’d worked so hard to get here after all.

And how here she was—alone.

She knew Sam was busy, he was a lawyer after all, but after nearly eight months of dropping everything for him, she’d thought he would give her just one night.  One night for her.

Aelin felt tears begin to prick that back of her eyes and had never been more grateful for the dim lighting of this restaurant. Hopefully no one would see the silver lining her eyes, the growing flush of embarrassment to her skin.  

It was made all the worse when Aelin noticed a familiar person walking towards her.  Someone she wanted to see even less than she wanted to admit that Sam was standing her up.

Hell.

Kaltain Rompier had been hired after Aelin by a few months and ever since decided she was the one who should be in charge of everything in the office.  To the point of undermining and condescending everything Aelin did.  In the end, Aelin was the one with the promotion and the office but Kaltain still made her life a living hell any chance she got.

“Aelin,” Kaltain crooned as she came to the table.  And it wasn’t even to give a brief pass by, no, Kaltain had a look of feral delight gleaming in her black eyes and Aelin could feel the attack coming. “What a surprise to see you here.”

Behind Kaltain was her date, a man Aelin had never seen before and average enough looking.  He didn’t seem to be even paying attention to the drama Kaltain was eager to whip out.

“Kaltain.” Aelin offered one of her own beaming smiles in return.  Despite the tension radiating through her body, she was determined to be civil.  She would not stoop to the other woman’s level. She would not stoop.

Kaltain didn’t bother waiting for the kill.  “All alone tonight?”

Her full red lips pouted sympathetically, but Aelin had spent enough time around the woman to know how much delight she was taking in Aelin’s potential misery and embarrassment.

She could lie—her date was in the bathroom.  She could own up to eating alone. On a Friday night.  At the hottest restaurant in Terrasen.  She could use Aedion as a scapegoat and have him come by the office on Monday and make a big show of—

“Sorry I’m late,” a deep, accented voice cut through Aelin’s wall panic as a giant, stupidly attractive man slid between Kaltain and Aelin’s table. “Traffic was impossible tonight.”

Aelin stared up slack jawed at her savior.

Rowan Whitethorn in all his glory stood before her.  His silver hair was coiffed back out of his face, chin riddled with stubble, and a black suit that fit his broad frame perfectly.  His green eyes gave her a significant look, one brow raised meaningfully.

Aelin pulled herself together and let out a relaxed, charmed laugh.  At least she hoped that’s what it sounded liked because this was Rowan Whitethorn.  The company’s biggest author.  One of the most sought-after writers at conventions who had multiple Hollywood deals piling at his feet.

He was also the biggest ass Aelin had ever worked with.

“Let’s hope you're not this late for your next deadline,” she said, voice light and easy.  Or as close to it as possible.  But Aelin could see a muscle tick in Rowan’s jaw and watched as a smirk drew across his face.  Savior of the night or not, she wanted to punch him.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Rowan drawled, his thick Scottish accent low and hard. “We know how punctual you are.”

“It’s a good quality to have,” she said.  She narrowed her eyes to which Rowan grinned.  He was insufferable. An ass.  Arrogant.  And—

Rowan flicked a lazy look at Kaltain. “Was there something you needed Kaltain?”

The dismissal was clear and left no room for argument.  It was such a fascinating sight to see Kaltain at a loss for words that Aelin forgot her disdain for Rowan.  Kaltain had always been a busy body around the office, always gossiping and looking for a way to undermine everyone else as long as she came out on top.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Aelin,” Kaltain said, her cold eyes cutting into Aelin.  And with that, she turned away with her date.

It was far too satisfying watching them go.  Even Aelin had to admit that.  Though, she’d be damned if she admitted so to Rowan.

She finally, reluctantly, turned her attention to him.  

He leaned in his chair looking utterly at ease with himself and the situation.  With his features as stoney and impossible to read as ever it would appear the last five minutes hadn’t even occurred.  But Aelin could see the subtle gleam in his eyes.  Sharp and calculating like a hawk.

She’d had five years to get to know him, he was Terrasen’s biggest client and she’d been the one to personally promote his first book on her review blog, not to mention act as a beta reader for early drafts of his work.

He was talented.  Remarkable even.  She’d never seen anyone wield a metaphor or create an image as he could.  It was a shame they hated each other.

It had started innocently enough.  In her critiques early on, Aelin hadn’t held back.  She’d given the early drafts of his manuscript’s hell.  She wouldn’t apologize for it.  Wouldn’t he want his book to be the best it could?  To have enough feedback to work with and accept or decline?  Hell, he didn’t even have to take most of her opinions if he didn’t want to, but she was on the team of readers.

Well, he hadn’t taken well to most of her words and Aelin found a giant box of red pens waiting on her desk one morning from him.

Seems like you ran out last week.

Asshole.

She didn’t hold back though.  Not at all.

Between overly marked up pages, passive aggressive notes, and blissful ignorance—they’d never known harmony in all their time of working together.  The closest they’d gotten was in the last seven months while Rowan was finishing up a new manuscript and had avoided the office all together.  

Aelin could hardly admit it to herself, but it had been a strange few months. She’d found herself looking up to catch a glimpse of him in the hallway in all that time.  She hated herself just a little for it.

“What do you want, Whitethorn?” she asked, she did her best not to glare, knowing their table was in direct line of sight of where Kaltain was now sitting.

Rowan raised a brow as he leaned forward and took Aelin’s wine glass.  He took a long sip, never breaking eye contact.

“That’s the thanks I get?” he asked, accent a low rumble that Aelin could feel straight in her belly. “By my accounts, I saved you from a rather embarrassing conversation.”

Aelin raised her chin. “Kaltain is harmless.”

Rowan only grinned. “Oh, aye?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Aelin insisted.

“She’s never been an easy person and I doubt my time away has changed anything,” Rowan said.  He spoke with such sincerity that Aelin could only stare at him.

In her silence, the waitress came back by their table with a new glass of wine for Rowan.  The bastard then went ahead and ordered for her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“We’re on a date, are we not?” he asked.

“Not.” She stared at him; his eyes sharp even in the low lights of the restaurant.  His tattoos peaked out beneath the collar of his shirt.  She’d never seen them in their full glory and now really wished she could see just a little bit more.

“Shame,” Rowan sighed.  He glanced idly into the bread basket and took the one remaining roll for himself. “I really was going to pay.”

Aelin sighed and leaned back in her chair.  As she looked at him, she tried to understand what he was trying to accomplish with this.  He’d chased off Kaltain and saved her from feeling like a fool…but why?

They’d always played a game like this--one of touch and go, of give and take, of hate and hate some more.  

She decided to try and approach this from another direction.

“What are you even doing here?” she asked, fingering the stem of her own wine glass.

That grin of his returned, a flash, but impossible to miss.  Aelin tried to reel herself in.  She couldn’t let him rile her up like this.

“Was out with some friends.” He nodded to the bar behind her.

Aelin turned in her seat, catching sight of two other men, one with curly blond hair and the other with a cut of shaggy black hair.  The blond gave her an enthusiastic wave when he saw her looking.  Aelin scowled.

“We were celebrating my finishing another book and getting Havilliards seal of approval,” Rowan explained, drawing Aelin’s attention back. “And I saw you sitting by yourself when Kaltain showed up.  I know the two of you don’t really get along.”

And how long did you wait before stepping in? She wanted to ask.  But she knew she wouldn’t want the answer.  He’d probably been there since the beginning watching as she slowly spun into madness.

She glanced at her phone but didn’t touch it.  It hadn’t lit up or vibrated or given any indication that anyone was worried about her.  She tried to not let it sting. A full hour at this point.  Maybe she should break it off with Sam.  Officially this time.

“I figured you’d rip my head off if I came over sooner,” Rowan continued, his voice softening just a touch. “Figured it was none of my business.”

Aelin didn’t need his pity, didn’t want it either.  “Yeah, well it’s not.”

He didn’t get the chance to respond as the waitress returned with their food.  A steak for Rowan, salmon for Aelin.  Exactly what she would have wanted for herself, even with the side of risotto.

Her stomach growled just loud enough that Rowan definitely heard.  She grabbed her fork and started eating.  Angrily.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Aelin pointed her fork at him.

“New book have a title?” she asked.

“Why would you care?”

“So I can figure out all the puns to call it on my podcast,” she said.

Rowan smirked. “I’m on your podcast now?”

“You? No.  Your book?  Sure.”  She took another bite of salmon and sighed. “It’s more fun that way.”

“Right,” he said. “‘Course.”

She watched him as he cut his steak, medium rare, and dredged it in a bit of peppercorn sauce.  He wasn’t at all uncomfortable with the act they found themselves in.  Not at all concerned over the fact that his friends were leaving (Aelin couldn’t help but check).  He was focused on her.

She didn’t know how she felt about that.

“So, the book?”

He paused before shrugging just barely. “Nothing special.  Ancient weaponry and the likes.  You’ll hate it.”

Aelin rolled her eyes.  Rowan had written several historical nonfiction novels surrounded with ancient lore, weaponry, and conspiracies.  It all seemed interesting when you thought about it--but Aelin loved the fantasy.  She loved the whimsy.  The strange.  And while Rowan's books were well written and captivating, they never quite captured her.

“Are you finally going to write a book about kilts?  You said you would.”  She couldn’t help but smile at that.  His first book had been a look into early Scottish history, connecting the Old Language and how it shaped fairy tales and other shared stories.  She told him it needed more kilts; he’d told her it wasn’t that kind of book.

Ever since, the same question had been asked.

“Not this time,” Rowan said, returning the smile.

“Shame,” Aelin said, “I would have given you an excellent review.”

The rest of dinner progressed in somewhat amicable silence.  They only exchanged a few words about what the next few weeks would look like for Rowan’s new manuscript.  And Aelin of course ordered a slice of chocolate cheesecake to go.

When the waitress returned with the bill, Rowan swept up the little black book and deposited his credit card all before Aelin could ask for a split bill.

She raised a brow in silent questioning.

“I told ye I’d pay,” he said, accent slipping just a bit deeper than he usually allowed it.  Something flashed in his eyes that kept Aelin from arguing further.  

So she allowed him to pay for the meal, which couldn’t have been cheap, and help her stand and put on her jacket.

It wasn’t until they were outside in the warm summer night that Aelin stepped away from him, eyes narrowed.  She fully expected him to turn back to the grumpy old writer she’d always seen him as, but as she took him in she noted that smoldering look remained in his eyes.  

The sun was close to setting, casting them both in the soft golden light of dusk.  Despite how it was nearing nine, it was still warm.  Though, Aelin felt more than just the lingering effects of the summer heat rolling through her.  

She had no idea what to make of the last hour with Rowan.  No idea what to make of the look that he still held her with.

“You’re going to give me hell tomorrow, aren’t you?” he asked.

Aelin grinned, she couldn’t help it. “Oh, I guarantee it.”

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t missed this subtle game of theirs.  The verbal sparring had been the only thing getting her through the work day on most occasions.  He was aggravating, certainly, but the only one who hadn’t dismissed her, who would take her shit and return it just the same. 

Rowan flagged down a cab for her and opened the door for her, resting a hand on the small of her back.  The action was so unlike anything she’d experienced before.  All the other men she’d dated, or known casually, would have simply left her on the side of the road to flag her own cab or just toss her in the cab and be done with it.

Aelin remembered her dad treating her mom well and how he would always open her doors, make sure she was taken care of, buy flowers and chocolates…but then Rhoe had died.  It had been ten years since the accident, but Aelin would never forget the kind of man he’d been.

“Thank-you,” she said.  She even managed to muster up a sincere smile, even knowing that as soon as the cab pulled away, she’d be lamenting over the embarrassment at being stood up and found out by Rowan Whitethorn.

His expression was unreadable even as he made sure she was tucked into the back of the cab.  Then he leaned in, close enough that she could see the cool green of his eyes.

“Whoever stood you up is an idiot, Galathynius.”  He pulled back before she could respond and shut the door firmly before patting the top of the cab.

The cabbie shot off into the street before Aelin could even register Rowan’s words.

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

Tag are not working 😕 please reblog! It would mean so much!

[lunadorned]

Just realized Elentiya = yet Aelin / Aelin yet

Which is cool because when she adopts this name at Mistward, she isn’t quite yet Aelin. It’s the last transitional name before Aelin accepts her true self.

Aelin —> Celaena —> Lillian —> Elentiya —> Aelin

It may be a reach, but also played around with the letters in Celaena and Lillian and found phonetic spellings for Aelin within them.

Celaena has Aelen, and Lillian has Aillin. Silly but fun-to-note hints of the princess hiding in plain sight.

[lunadorned]

@babinforaelin, all your fics are art. Thanks for sharing the master list! Can’t wait to re-read.

MASTERLIST

Rowaelin, Modern AU, But She’s Looking at You

Read on AO3

Completed. 9/9 Chapters.

Maeve owns the best club in the city, but when Aelin shows up demanding answers from her Aunt, she is forced into one month of working as a DJ in her Aunt’s club in exchange for information. Along the way she meets Rowan and the rest of the cadre, who are working as bartenders in the club… and Rowan is given the task of babysitting Aelin for the month.

Rowaelin Roller Derby!AU

Read on AO3

Completed. One-shot.

Aelin invites Rowan to watch her Roller Derby game and it isn’t what he expects…. at all.

Rowaelin, Lifeguard AU

Read on AO3

Completed. One-shot.

Rowan worked happily as a lifeguard at Skulls Bay, but everything changed when a fiery young woman joined the team.

Rowaelin Modern AU, Falling For You

Read on AO3

Completed. One-shot.

Aelin takes her best friend skydiving for her birthday, but doesn’t expect to have such a handsome instructor.

The Fire Bird, Ballet!AU

Read on AO3

Work In Progress. 1/? Chapters. 

Rowan is a Principal dancer at the Doranelle Ballet Company, and is tasked with mentoring Maeve’s Niece. As the biggest dance contest of the decade approaches, rules will be broken, friendships will be forged and nothing will ever be the same.

[lunadorned]

I’ve been thinking of some theories. These ideas tie in with the concept that the Maasverse explores the same world in different time periods, with ToG being the oldest of the three, followed by ACOTAR and then CC.

(Disclaimer: I’m just playing around with some thoughts. I don’t have the time to back up my thesis with citations at the moment, so the ideas presented are based upon my recollection of reading the books in the past few years. I’m well aware that I’m human and, as such, able to make mistakes, so. Don’t take this as a full-bodied literary analysis, just a simple thought exercise.)

I think that Rhysand is a descendent of Maeve via his father’s lineage. Those violet eyes and dark hair? A monstrous form? Mind reading and thought manipulation? We’ve seen all of these traits in the false faerie queen. And Rhys’s father had a penchant for cruelty—just like Maeve.

Which begs the question, who could have fathered Maeve’s line?

Consider who in ToG was able to step in the space between. Who was able to “winnow” before this skill was called such? We’ve got two candidates and both of them (unfortunately) had relations with Maeve: the wolf twins.

I think Maeve specifically chose the twins because they were rare among their kind and they had magic she did not possess.

Fenrys mentions at one point that even he’s not quite sure how his magic works—it’s a kind of ability without much information, and hence, rare. To Maeve, this would be a coveted skill.

So, okay. One of the twins could have conceivably fathered a child for Maeve. If that’s the case, where’s the kid? Why did no one ever see them? Did Connall have privy to that kind of information?

My theory is that Maeve’s child is the owl with whom she was often seen. Although rumored to be a healer, the bird didn’t exactly have a confirmed backstory. What if, like their wolf father, the child was a shapeshifter? SJM didn’t explicitly state how the shapeshifter gene works. A case could be made that the gene could be passed on without a specific animal being attached to it.

Even if the owl is not Maeve’s offspring hiding in plain sight, there are still plausible theories as to where the child could exist. Maeve could have easily hidden a child in her kingdom and manipulated the minds of caregivers to obscure identity. In this vein, she could also have erased any knowledge of a child’s existence or of her potential pregnancy from the minds of The Cadre, Connall included.

Maeve may also have gotten rid of Connall for this very reason. If she only required a child (perhaps multiple children) from Connall, not true companionship, then he would have at some point fulfilled his purpose. He would have become disposable, especially if Maeve wanted her progeny kept secret. At some point, the kid would likely start asking after their parentage. As a single parent, Maeve would have total control over the child’s life. We know she loves to be a puppeteer; she’d never allow anyone else to pull her kid’s strings. Or, maybe Fenrys is the true father, and Connall figured this out. Either way, Maeve couldn’t risk that knowledge getting out and making her vulnerable.

I already suspected that Connall was manipulated into his own demise, but the theory that it furthered Maeve’s hidden agenda (while also causing Fenrys pain), gives additional weight to the idea.

And when we think about Rhys in connection to Maeve, many puzzle pieces begin to make sense. His mind-bending abilities are unrivaled. He can break a brain with little effort. Rhys was even able to hide an entire city for decades. He shape-shifts into a monstrous form and struggles with this dark side. Sounds like Rhys has a lot in common with his violet-eyed ancestor. And let’s not forget that Rhys, just like the wolf twins, is one of the characters able to winnow in ACOTAR.

Mor, Rhys’s cousin with the same lineage, can also winnow. Yes, there are others in ACOTAR who have the winnowing ability, and that could mean potential mixing of lines for those families. It’s worth exploring.

Updating to add:

Forgot to mention that the word “Daemati” suggests these mind-reading powers are “demonic”. And Maeve was a demon/Valg.

Thanks for reading!

What do you think? Did Maeve have an heir? Multiple heirs? If so, with whom? Is Rhysand Maeve’s descendant?

[lunadorned]

You’re so right, @daisybrekker. Rowan and Aelin forever!

It's been ages since TOG finished and Rowaelin are still SJM's best main couple🔥

meabhusd

charliebowater

sallteas

cludi_a_

gabriella.bujdoso

flavie5dub

sashac_art

rosiethorns88

hachandraws

emiliesnaith_art

[lunadorned]

Ahhhh I just love theorizing about great narratives! I’d never be able to tell this is your first foray into sci-fi. I’m picking up what you’re putting down with your story vibes! And noooo—don’t tell me a thing! I want a first class ticket to the movie in your brilliant brain. But thank you for entertaining my thoughts.🥰🥹💕🚀👽🛸

Hi! So theories based on the most recent chapter where Aelin “meets” Rowan and it’s unclear as to whether they truly know each other or not.

1) Rowan does know Aelin. She was in stasis elsewhere on the ship because she had been gravely injured at the same time as he was, but he recovered first. Her memories and dreams are blurred together. So, Rowan is simply shocked to see Aelin out of stasis by herself after being separated from her for a long time.

2) This version of Rowan and Aelin have never met. Aelin has premonitions in her dreams about their future, and we are just at the start of their journey. I get flutters thinking about this as their first meeting bc you’ve written them as so instinctually “aware” of each other with their expressions and light touches. I like to think Rowan is his usual broody self, but the idea of a beautiful, badass woman just dropping into his life out of nowhere, saying she’s dreamed of him, pulls out the charming, teasing side of Ro that’s been hidden for so long. Ugh—so freakin’ cute! (Even covered in alien goo.)

3) Rowan and Aelin haven’t yet met in this scenario because they are either clones with memories of their originals, trying to correct a mistake in a time loop situation (and here I go embracing full sci fi mode)—or! Or they are the same people whose memories have somehow been wiped.

Okay! That’s what I got for now all thanks to this rich world you’ve created. Even with glimpses of the characters, there’s still so much to the text to devour! I want to know allllll about them. Thanks for this ride, @westofmoon .💕

*screams into a pillow because this made my day*

I LOVE THESE THEORIES SO MUCH OH MY GOODNESS!!! And your words are too kind, I'm so glad people care about this au because it's my first time trying sci-fi, I'm a newbie to the genre and I'm so glad it's going okay so far 😭

Writing their first meeting was one of my favorite things so far and I just, I'm so glad it seems I pulled it off the way I hoped 🥲

This is making me just want to spill my secrets 🤣 although I will admit the story as a whole is still figuring itself out.

So, i don't know if you wanted any vague hints in response to your theories but... I will neither confirm nor deny that one of these might be near spot on and another on the right track 👀