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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

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Will you marry me?

I have talked about how pregnancy and infertility are two subjects that hit very close to home here a while ago. Sensitive topics for me, and I found out that writing about it whenever it pops into my mind sometimes helps. This is a very small, very simple thing that just appeared in my head yesterday while I played Mahjong at three in the morning. I hope you guys find it is as beautiful to read it as it was calming for me to write it.

Warnings: Infertility

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, will you give me the honor to be your husband?”

“No.”

For a second too long, Rowan didn’t register the word. In his mind, there was no reality in which Aelin wouldn’t accept his proposal. He had planned everything— taken her to their favorite restaurant, then to the spot on the park where they first met four years ago, made a beautiful speech, and, when he got on one knee, Rowan was sure Aelin was beaming.

But now, his girlfriend was just looking down at the ring with a sad smile.

Rowan didn’t know what to say, how to act. He was sure Aelin didn’t want to end things, so maybe she just wasn’t ready for marriage? That was such a foreign thought to Rowan, specially after the fact that they had talked about marriage for the past five months. Aelin was ready, she had said as much so many times, and yet her answer had been no.

“No?” Rowan asked, dumbfounded. He didn’t want to pressure her into accepting, he just didn’t know how to recompose himself quickly enough so she wouldn’t realize how his heart was shattering inside his chest. “Why?”

The word was barely louder than a whisper, but Aelin heard it anyways. Rowan knew because her sad smile just deepened, and when she grabbed his hand, she squeezed it tightly. “Come here.”

Still in some state of shock, Rowan let her pull him towards a bench nearby, the moon and some far away street lampposts their only company. The glow they casted had made Rowan thought that the park looked like a dream before he proposed to Aelin.

Now it was more of a sweet nightmare.

Aelin sat down, still holding Rowan’s hands. She stared at their laced fingers for so long that, after a few minutes, Rowan thought she wasn’t going to say anything, get up, and walk away.

“I had lunch with Lysandra three days ago.” She said, her tone barely above a whisper and yet her words sounded so loud as they ricocheted through the empty park. Rowan couldn’t understand how having lunch with Lysandra had to do with her refusal, and yet he found himself hanging on every word that escaped her lips as if they were food to a starved man.

“I know.” He said when she fell silent again.

“We had lunch at the hospital, I was doing my yearly check up.” She continued, still staring at their hands as if she couldn’t bear looking at his face. At the mention of the doctor, accompanied by the seriousness of her voice, Rowan’s shock was immediately substituted with terror. “Everything was normal, I did some exams and went home.”

He didn’t say anything, too scared to say a word, to ask a question.

“Some results came back yesterday.” Aelin took a deep breath, finally raising her head to look at Rowan’s face. Her turquoise and gold eyes were shining with unshed tears, and she gave him a smile that would have destroyed his heart if it wasn’t already shattered. “You want to be a dad, Ro.”

Rowan’s brows furrowed, his mind trying to catch up with what she was saying. “Yes?”

Aelin shrugged, raising her eyes to look at the moon rather than looking at him. “And I can’t be a mom.”

His mind was still trying to catch up to her words, to wrap every single inch of attention he had in his body around the meaning of what she was saying, of what she was implying. A lonely tear slid down Aelin’s cheek, and if she wasn’t gripping his hands so fiercely, Rowan would have wiped it away.

He didn’t say anything— didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if she even wanted him to say anything. Some things were inconsolable, and the only thing anyone could do to the person was just sit there in silence and let them get it all out.

Aelin’s beautiful and sad face slid back to him, small and sad smile still gracing her lips. She looked so heartbroken, so lost that Rowan wanted to destroy the thing causing her pain.

But this time there was nothing he could do.

“I am infertile.” She said out loud, more to herself than to him, he realized. By the look on her face, by her posture and the way she spoke, Rowan guessed that was the first time she was saying it out loud. She straightened her spine, staring deep into his eyes. “I am infertile. I can’t have children of my own.”

Rowan silently nodded, not uttering a word as he realized she wasn’t done talking.

“Completely infertile. No treatment, no chance of a miracle, no nothing. I will never get pregnant, Rowan.” Her face was a mixture of anguish, confusion, and, deep down, a small parcel of acceptance. “I won’t get the big belly, the pregnancy cramps. I don’t get my ultrasounds, belly kicks, and first cry. I don’t get the excitement of using a pharmacy pregnancy test, or the thrill of looking at a screen while a nurse rubs that thing against my belly to know the baby’s sex. I don’t get any of that.”

“Ace…”

“And I wanted all that.” She said, determined even as Rowan heard her throat closing up against the words. “Always have.”

Rowan nodded, squeezing her hands. “I know.”

And he did. Every time they talked about the future, Aelin included kids. Always said she wished to be a mom, wished to have a large family. She herself hadn’t had that when she was younger. Her parents died before she could form any memories with them, and Aelin jumped from house to house until she was adopted when she was twelve. For the longest time after that, it had been only Aelin and Darrow. During her first year of college he helped her learn more about her family— which led to her discovering the existence of Aedion and Gavriel.

She let go of Rowan’s hands, cleaning her face from her tears before looking at him.

“And it is something that hurts— knowing I won’t have it. But it is also something that I need to learn how to live with, because it won’t go away.” She looked so determined, so resolute that Rowan allowed himself a small spark of pride amongst the grief raging inside his chest for his girlfriend. “And it hurts like a bitch now, and it will probably never be something I am happy or even comfortable with, but I will learn how to deal with it. How to wake up everyday and learn more and more until it’s a sad reminder that sometimes pops into my mind, not a soul crushing fact.”

“Aelin—“ Rowan started even though he didn’t really know what to say.

“And I did not accept your proposal because you deserved to know this fact before tying your life to mine.” Her eyes still held some tears, but none of them fell. “I need you to propose to the whole me.”

“And I do.” Rowan said the second she finished speaking. He cradled her face in between his hand, thumb brushing over her lips. “Ace, I would propose to you no matter what.”

Her face was serious, and she blinked a few times before saying. “So you don’t care the slightest about the infertility? It’s not something that makes you think a second longer about the proposal?”

He nodded. “I don’t. It’s not.”

She took his hands off her face, putting them on his lap. “Then my answer is no.”

“What?”

She shook her head, strawberry golden hair falling from her loose braids. “This is something that should make you think longer, Rowan. This should be something that makes you stop for a second and think about what the future is going to be like. You talked about me getting pregnant before, and so don’t insult me by saying that you absolutely don’t care. You do. Just like me, you care so fucking much. But the difference between me and you is that you have a choice. You’re not infertile, I am. You can go out there and get someone pregnant, that’s not an option for me.”

“Aelin, I—“

“No. I won’t have you like this. I love you, Ro. I love you so fucking much, and I love how you feel you can love me no matter what. But I don’t need rushed and desperate demonstrations of love, not about this. I need a resonate, well thought response to something that is a big fucking deal. I need for you to understand that there will be no miracle here. I need for you to understand that you will see your friends getting pregnant, your friends’ wives getting pregnant. I need for you to understand that I will never carry your children. I love you, Rowan, but I will not be having you resent your abrupt choice to stay with me. I won’t be having you looking at me with any ounce of regret. If you want to marry me, then you will marry all of me.”

“You want me to think.” Rowan said slowly, his mind replaying what Aelin had just said over and over again.

She nodded firmly. “Not for five minutes, not for an hour. I want you to go home and think about it. To look at it and understand it.”

“And then you’ll answer my proposal.” It wasn’t a question.

“If the offer still stands.” She answered anyways.

————————————

Aelin wanted a kid.

She always had. She was good with kids, had loved babysitting during her adolescence. When she graduated from college and opened her own gallery, she made sure to have a fully white room, full of paints, just so kids could come in just to ruin the pristine walls. She loved a baby’s laugh, a baby’s smell, and smile. She loved everything about motherhood.

She would have loved being a mother.

She would love being a mother, Aelin forced her brain to correct itself.

Infertility had been a blow to every single part of her body, and the moment she read the results was like her body was trying to suffocate itself. She hadn’t been immediately overcome with grief, or sadness, or despair. For the following hour after reading the diagnosis, Aelin just sat on the kitchen floor, staring at a cabinet long enough that she almost opened a hole in it.

It hurt. It hurt like a bitch, and a part of her simply knew it would always hurt like a bitch. She knew it wasn’t the end of the world, knew there were so many more options, so many new treatments being created, and yet she simply could not bring herself to shove all those feelings away. Couldn’t force herself to pretend as if it didn’t impact her at all.

She could still be a mom— she would be a mom. Adoption had always been a part of her plans. Yes, it was something she had considered doing after getting pregnant, but adoption had been something Aelin was adamant on since she was younger. To be honest, whenever Aelin thought about the future, pregnancy was a one-time thing while she wanted to adopt at least three kids.

Maybe more.

And she would love her kids so intensely, so profoundly, that nothing but absolute love would fill her body. Just like she had been loved after her parents passed and she was adopted by Darrow.

For the first time in five days— since she read the diagnosis— Aelin genuinely smiled.

Life had been hard during the first twelve years of her life. Parents died in a fire when she was eight months, ended in the system, and just jumped around for years. People have a preference for babies, and so as she grew older and remained unadopted, Aelin’s chances of getting her own little family were thinning at the same rate her desperation was growing larger.

And then Darrow appeared.

Darrow, at first glance, reminded Aelin of a superhero movie villain. Always wearing black, a scowl on his face, and rich enough to wipe his own ass with hundred dollar bills. Whenever in public, the businessman was cold and detached, a mentor rather than father. At home, however, he was always simply Da. They never established if that was short for Darrow or for dad, but neither of them cared. Darrow had been her last hope, and he provided her enough to live a happy and comfortable life during her adolescence and young adult years. She would still call him every day, tell him how things were going with Rowan and the gallery.

Darrow had been her only family for so long, and although she loved him unconditionally, she wanted a bigger family.

“Hey, Da.” Aelin said against the phone, leaning on the balcony. “How’s everything?”

“Everything is great, m’eudail. The company is doing better than ever, and I’ve been thinking about getting a dog.” Aelin could hear him moving around, picking up papers as he probably looked for something. “But how are you? You sound different. Did something happen? Rowan?”

Aelin sighed, staring off the balcony. The day was coming to an end, the sunset painting the sky all shades of red, pink, and gold. “No. Yes. Kinda? I don’t know.”

Darrow laughed, a throaty sound Aelin doubted many people ever heard. “Why don’t you explain to me then? I’m smart, but even I can’t be that good of a guesser.”

“I’m infertile, Da.” Aelin whispered against the phone.

“Oh, m’eudail…” Aelin heard her Da’s voice full of pain for her, even when he was miles away. “I am so sorry.”

She shrugged even though he couldn’t see. “Me too. Cried like a baby for the past days, but you’ll be proud to know that I have reached a resigned form of acceptance. I always wanted to get pregnant and adopt, well, a small change in plans, but not the end of the world.”

“You’re allowed to be sad.”

“I know. I am.”

“But I am proud nonetheless.” Darrow said, and Aelin could hear a small smile in his voice. “You’ll be a great mom.”

Aelin smiled. “I know. I will.”

“And Rowan…”

“He proposed.” Aelin sighed, remembering the absolute ecstasy and euphoria that overtook her whole body when Rowan got down on one knee. She wanted to jump on him, laugh, and kiss him until they were both breathless. “Before he knew about the infertility. So I said no.”

All the moving around stopped on Darrow’s end of the call. “You said no?”

“He should know about it before marrying me. Rowan wants to be a dad.”

“He still can.” Da said. “I was.”

“Maybe he wants his wife to carry his biological children.” Aelin shrugged again, heart breaking a little. “Maybe it’s not something he can give up and not look back at it in the future.”

“I have the feeling that boy would give up just about anything for you and never look back, Aelin.” Her Da said, letting out a sigh.

“Did he tell you to tell me that?”

Darrow laughed. “Yes. Me and your boyfriend have these weekly heartfelt calls where we talk about our feelings.”

Aelin tried to contain a smile. “It would be fitting. You two have the same emotional availability.”

“We do, and you were the only one ever I ever let this close in my life, my darling daughter. No surprise you’re the only one for him, too.” He sounded as if he was sitting down, and Aelin could almost picture him on his office’s chair, rubbing his temples like he used to whenever she’d get in trouble in school and had to tell him. “Rowan’s a smart boy. Practical. I suppose you gave him time to think?”

“Yeah. A few days now.”

“I already know his answer.”

“So you do have heartfelt calls with my boyfriend.” Aelin tried to suffocate some of her nervousness. Her dad was so sure, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to be so confident. And losing Rowan would be such a painful, heart-shredding blow.

Just the thought was a painful, heart-shredding blow.

Darrow laughed, but some concern was present in his voice. “Ae—“

“I gotta go, Da.” Aelin said abruptly, interrupting him. “I love you.”

“Love you too, m’eudail.” Darrow managed to say before Aelin ended the call.

Everything was happening both too fast and too slow, and she just needed a fucking moment. She needed a fucking moment to sit down and think about nothing— no worries, no doubts. Nothing. She just wanted to have one single simple day where nothing bothered her.

She stared off the balcony until the sun had fully set, until the moon appeared and the stars started shinning. She stared off the balcony until the evening rush of hundreds of cars was substituted by hundreds of people walking around, going and coming back from places. High heels and sneakers sounded against the cobblestones, loud music from nearby bars sounded louder and louder every minute. The world was buzzing with life.

“Any particular reason why we are staring off the balcony so intently?” A low voice she’d recognize anywhere sounded from the open door separating the balcony and the living room.

Aelin didn’t turn around, and Rowan didn’t take a step forward. They just remained in silence, both looking at what felt like the whole world.

“Have been considering throwing Aedion off here. Asshole ate my box of chocolates.” Aelin murmured, and Rowan huffed a laugh in response, finally taking a step towards her.

Aelin turned around, feeling all the air leave her lungs when she looked at his face. Rowan was so painfully beautiful that Aelin couldn’t help but smile when her eyes fell on his face. He seemed so determined and so hopeful at the same time that Aelin heard her own heartbeats sounding louder than any of the sounds coming from below. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He mimicked her small smile, crossing his arms to stop himself from coming closer. He wanted, but was probably scared that one single abrupt movement would have Aelin bolting away from him. “How are you?”

“Good. Better. I talked to my Da.”

“What did he say?”

“The expected.” She shrugged, not knowing what to say.

“Aelin.”

“Rowan.”

“I thought about it.” Rowan said, a small nod of his head. “For the past days, I thought about it and then I thought about what I would tell you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and Aelin simply assented, not trusting herself with words.

“I want kids. Always have. Different reasons than you, though.” Rowan started, looking directly into her face, eyes never wavering anywhere else. “You wanted a big family because for so long it was just you, and then just you and Darrow. I wanted a big family because I grew up surrounded by so many cousins, so many aunts and uncles, that a small family sounds strange.”

Aelin nodded automatically. She knew that, knew that Rowan’s reasons to want a bigger family and her own reasons were the complete opposite. He had a big family and wanted to remain as such, Aelin had a small one and wanted to change that.

“I might not be the warmest, but I want to be a dad. I’m not giving that up.”

“I know.” Aelin whispered.

Rowan’s eyes deepened, and his brows furrowed slightly. “But I never cared about biological children, Aelin. If— When. When I marry you, I want to adopt. More than one, more than two. I don’t care about you getting pregnant, Ace. It was never about that. I want to marry you, and I want to be the father of your kids. And that’s all. If adoption is our only choice, then I’m gonna make sure it’s our best choice. We’ll build a life great enough that no other possible reality will ever compare to. I’m gonna love you and those kids more than I could ever love anyone else.”

Rowan ended the distance between them, taking Aelin’s face gently and tilting it up. He pressed his lips softly against hers— one time, two times, three times. He kissed her lovingly and so slowly, as if they had all the time in the world.

“The only regret I could ever have about you, Fireheart, is the one I would feel every single fucking second if I let you go.” He kissed her again, wiping away tears from her pretty face. “You will be an amazing mother, Ace, and I will try every day to be a good dad. And I will love you so goddamn much every single day that you will never feel like a burden to me, because you are not one. You’ll never be a burden to me, Aelin.”

Aelin passed her arms around Rowan’s neck, chest bursting with so many emotions she could barely breathe. She let out a laugh against Rowan’s lips, damp cheeks touching his. His hands dug into her hair, pulling her face up so he could kiss her properly. It was so sweet and so loving, that if Aelin didn’t fully belong to that man already, that man would have ensured that. His warm lips against hers felt like the answers to so many questions, some that she hadn’t even asked, all ensuring her that they would be fine.

They would be great.

Rowan would always be the one for her, and Aelin would always be the one for him.

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, you will give me the honor to be your husband.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” She answered anyways.

A/N: Ok, so this was something. Again, hit very close to home. Different people will react differently to the same situation. The way I write is based on what I have seen, but just know that every reaction is valid. Whether it crushes your soul, or maybe doesn’t impact you at all, know that it is valid. it will always be valid. And that you deserve someone who will never make you feel bad about something you cannot control. You deserve greatness, how you achieve it or what obstacles are in your way don’t matter. You deserve it.

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@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @heirofthenightcourt @booksbqueen @heirofthrnightcourt004

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coeurvrai · 5 years

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Bryce complains about the matching tattoos that she and Danika got while she was drunk. She mentions that because Danika is a fully-blooded shifter or Vanir, she heals faster than her, who is half-Vanir because she’s half-Fae. I still don’t know why she’s using Vanir, of all the terms, but this is what the world is now.

Danika wants to use the showers downstairs in the archives.

“What is that on you?”

Danika scowled, the angular planes of her face scrunching. “I had to break up a fight between a satyr and a nightstalker.” She bared her white teeth at the black substance crusting her hands. “Guess which one spewed its juices onto me.”

Bryce snorted and gestured to the archives door. “Shower’s yours. There are some clean clothes in the bottom drawer of the desk down there.”

I love how Maas has that whole glossary in the front and then just throws in more creatures because why include them when you can just- not. Like we haven’t even met half of the species on that list and now we’re gonna have to add more to it. Also, is a nightstalker something else or is a nightstalker slang for a vampire, or “vampyr” in this case?

Also okay, the oil-y ammonia liquid on her is like blood or saliva or something. Then what the hell is the streaks of sapphires, amethysts, and roses?

Danika has a tattoo on her neck of a horned, grinning wolf that signifies that she is apart of the “Pack of Devils”. I am rolling my eyes and I am so sorry to 10 year old me and my obsession with wolves and werewolves. Apparently the sword Danika carries is famous. Bryce makes unrelated comments about the gallery’s generator.

Bryce had always wondered why Jesiba bothered with an old-fashioned generator—until the citywide firstlight outage last week. When the power had failed, only the generator had kept the mechanical locks in place during the looting that followed, when creeps had rushed in from the Meat Market, bombarding the gallery’s front door with counterspells to break through the enchantments.

Also maybe it’s just me and also the fact that I don’t live in a world full of fantasy creatures but I haven’t heard of people looting during power outages. But hey, Jesiba seems like the type of witch to lean towards old-fashioned practical solutions. Don’t fix it if it ain’t broken kind of deal.

Anyways, Bryce gets back on topic and infers that Danika is meeting with the people in charge of the city.

In the five years since they’d met as freshmen at Crescent City University, Bryce could count on one hand the number of times Danika had been called in for a meeting with the seven people important enough to merit a shower and change of clothes. Even while delivering reports to Danika’s grandfather, the Prime of the Valbaran wolves, and to Sabine, her mother, Danika usually wore that leather jacket, jeans, and whatever vintage band T-shirt wasn’t dirty.

Of course, it pissed off Sabine to no end, but everything about Danika—and Bryce—pissed off the Alpha of the Scythe Moon Pack, chief among the shifter units in the city’s Auxiliary.

Sabine or rather Sabina is a Roman name, I know that much. I am confused right now. She just mentioned that Danika is apart of “Pack of Devils”, is that just a nickname for the Scythe Moon pack or whatever? Also if Danika’s mum is the alpha, then what does that make her grandfather? What is a Prime? What are the Valbaran wolves? Is a Prime another word for city head? I am confusion.

Bryce goes on about Danika’s mother being her dad’s heir but Danika’s grandpa obviously favouring Danika by giving her the sword (that is a family heirloom) on her eighteenth birthday, over Danika’s mother. If you were wondering, Danika studied history with Bryce.

Danika turned, her caramel eyes shuttered. “Philip Briggs is being released today.”

Bryce started. “What?”

“They’re letting him go on some gods-damned technicality. Someone fucked up the paperwork. We’re getting the full update in the meeting.” She clenched her slim jaw, the glow from the firstlights in the glass sconces along the stairwell bouncing off her dirty hair. “It’s so fucked up.”

Bryce’s stomach churned. The human rebellion remained confined to the northern reaches of Pangera, the sprawling territory across the Haldren Sea, but Philip Briggs had done his best to bring it over to Valbara. “You and the pack busted him right in his little rebel bomb lab, though.”

There is something so comical to me about the phrase “she clenched her slim jaw”, like ah yes, it’s important that we know Danika has a slim jaw. But ofc we have humans rebelling because Maas lacks an original bone in her body. Also Valbara is the country/continent that they live on, I feel like that’s an important thing that should’ve been established in the map unless I’m just blind.

Danika tapped her booted foot on the green carpet. “Bureaucratic fucking nonsense.”

“He was going to blow up a club. You literally found his blueprints for blowing up the White Raven.” As one of the most popular nightclubs in the city, the loss of life would have been catastrophic. Briggs’s previous bombings had been smaller, but no less deadly, all designed to trigger a war between the humans and Vanir to match the one raging in Pangera’s colder climes. Briggs made no secret of his goal: a global conflict that would cost the lives of millions on either side. Lives that were expendable if it meant a possibility for humans to overthrow those who oppressed them—the magically gifted and long-lived Vanir and, above them, the Asteri, who ruled the planet Midgard from the Eternal City in Pangera.

But Danika and the Pack of Devils had stopped the plot. She’d busted Briggs and his top supporters, all part of the Keres rebels, and spared innocents from their brand of fanaticism.

THE HUMANS ARE OPPRESSED! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HISTORY OF ACOTAR’S WORLDBUILDING, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

Also I don’t trust Maas to write terrorists or terrorism with grace, tact, and a lot of respect. Like, literally look at ACOTAR and TOG.

And apparently there are something called the Asteri, which is completely different to the Vanir, and the Eternal City is not Crescent City but is also something completely different. Also climes is a word, Google tells me, and all I can think is just... there are so many other words you could’ve used.

As one of the most elite shifter units in Crescent City’s Auxiliary, the Pack of Devils patrolled the Old Square, making sure drunken, handsy tourists didn’t become drunken, dead tourists when they approached the wrong person. Making sure the bars and cafés and music halls and shops stayed safe from whatever lowlife had crawled into town that day. And making sure people like Briggs were in prison.

Jesus christ, this is like RWBY all over again, where the only Faunus shown fighting back against systematic oppression were terrorists or former terrorists. Also I don’t get what auxiliary means. Or rather, I know what auxiliary means, but I don’t know what it’s supposed to be. Is it supposed to be related to the Roman auxiliary? Or are they really backup support? Are they police?

Anyways, we get a HUGE exposition dumb right at the start of this page, and just holy fuck, there is such a thing as too much worldbuilding.

She would. Even if Danika had to snarl in Micah Domitus’s face, she’d get her point across. There weren’t many who’d dare piss off the Archangel of Crescent City, but Danika wouldn’t hesitate. And given that all seven Heads of the City would be at this meeting, the odds of that happening were high. Things tended to escalate swiftly when they were in one room. There was little love lost between the six lower Heads in Crescent City, the metropolis formally known as Lunathion. Each Head controlled a specific part of the city: the Prime of the wolves in Moonwood, the Fae Autumn King in Five Roses, the Under-King in the Bone Quarter, the Viper Queen in the Meat Market, the Oracle in the Old Square, and the River Queen—who very rarely made an appearance—representing the House of Many Waters and her Blue Court far beneath the Istros River’s turquoise surface. She seldom deigned to leave it.

The humans in Asphodel Meadows had no Head. No seat at the table. Philip Briggs had found more than a few sympathizers because of it.

But Micah, Head of the Central Business District, ruled over them all. Beyond his city titles, he was Archangel of Valbara. Ruler of this entire fucking territory, and answerable only to the six Asteri in the Eternal City, the capital and beating heart of Pangera. Of the entire planet of Midgard. If anyone could keep Briggs in prison, it would be him.

There’s so much to unpack here, I literally don’t know where to start. So Danika’s grandfather is in charge of all the wolf shifters in the country apparently. But what about all the other types of shifters? Are there only wolf shifters? Is it because wolf shifters are the most common? If there are only wolf shifters, why wouldn’t you just call them fucking werewolves or whatever? Especially when you’ve had shapeshifters in your previous series *cough* LYSANDRA *cough*

Also some of these sound like titles to be inherited, while others sound like epithets. Are all titles inherited or are some elected? Also Bryce sounds so unsympathetic towards the humans’ cause, when she herself is half-human. Does her being half human affect her in any shape or form? Is she discriminated against because of it? Does she feel othered by both humans and Fae? Is her being half-Human, half-Fae at all plot relevant?

And what the fuck are Asteri?

Anyways, assisting Lehabah in protecting the books in the archives downstairs is a chimera named Syrinx that Bryce’s boss purchased. Danika and Lehabah engage in some banter and Lehabah mentions that she doesn’t wear clothes because “they don’t pair well when you’re made of flame”.

... the phone on the desk began ringing. She had a good idea who it would be.

Heels sinking into the plush carpeting, Bryce reached the phone before it went to audiomail, sparing herself a five-minute lecture. “Hi, Jesiba.”

A beautiful, lilting female voice answered, “Please tell Danika Fendyr that if she continues to use the supply closet as her own personal locker, I will turn her into a lizard.”

Audiomail? What the fuck is wrong with voicemail? Why use audiomail? It doesn’t make your worldbuilding any richer.

Anyways, that’s the end of the first chapter. It’s Fendyr instead of Fendir, bc I guess so Maas can claim she isn’t entirely reusing names, even though Fendir is the name of one of the wyverns in TOG.

#sarah reads hoeab #sarah reads cc #anti ccity #anti sjm

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ohmygoditsrowaelin · 5 years

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Rowaelin - Pregnancy (2/3) - Announcement

So everyone immediately notice the couple’s change in mood. Sure they’re always happy to a degree, but never this happy. The court and staff just assume that they’ve started doing something new in bed, ‘cause lets be honest the two are like rabbits in the bedroom.

ANYWAY

Aedion and Lysandra are the first to find out, partly because they’re obviously the godparents and also that they were the first people they ran into.

“We have something to tell you!”Aelin would be practically jumping up and down, Rowan looking at her with a worried gaze. His paternal instincts already at 100. I’m just cackling at the thought of Rowan acting like a mother hen around Aelin, but that’s for the next part.

ANYWAY PT2

Aedion and Lysandra would share a look, slightly suspicious.

“I’m pregnant!”

Lysandra would laugh and start jumping around with Aelin because she loves babies and that their own daughter has a cousin to play with. Meanwhile Aedion is frozen in shock, his mind not fully computing what had just been said.

Rowan just laughs, bringing Aedion in for a ‘manly’ embrace. AKA, Rowan hugging Aedion so tight he can’t breathe. But after a solid minute of silence Aedion would start crying, just filled with so many emotions.

Because he never thought he’d see Aelin get married, let alone have a child after all they’d been through. It gets to a point that it’s awkward, Lysandra laughs at him, finding it hilarious that the man in charge for Terresan’s army is so easily reduced to tears.

Elide, Lorcan and Fenrys are the next to find out.

Aelin just blurts it out to them during a dinner with no warning. Lorcan chokes on venison, Elide congratulates Aelin and Rowan already promising to find the cutest baby toys. Fenrys congratulates also, but mostly to Rowan.

The fae has bruising all over, bad enough to visit the palace infirmary.

Manon guessed the moment she saw Aelin when the couple visited her in the Wastes*. Aelin and Rowan are surprised she could guess, since Aelin isn't showing yet. To which Manon replies with a raised brow “I’m a witch.”

It is announced formally to the Terrasen lords and royal dignitaries at a feast in Orynth during the fourth month of Aelin’s pregnancy.

Aelin just fits into one of her finer dresses, much to her displeasure. Rowan ties it up in the back, making a nice bow and patting her on the back gently. She turns around and gives him a glare.

He just kneels down and kisses her bump, making Aelin thus turn into a puddle.

He escorts her to the throne room as always during events. She exchanges pleasantries with the lords, embracing Yrene who is pregnant herself for the second time. She hugs both Dorian and Chaol, both able to tell something is different.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” They both look towards Rowan for an explanation, he just shrugs, having taking a back seat with telling people she’s pregnant.

Though he has to restrain himself from growling at every male from touching her, his instincts to protect his mate’s offspring going into overdrive.

He almost brakes a young lords hand after it dropped lower than Rowan liked on Aelin. Though when Aelin turned to look at him after she had the same look as he did.

After the first course is served, Aelin rises from her seat at the head of the table. Her chair’s scraping getting the attention of everyone in the room.

“Welcome for gathering with us tonight. As some of you have noticed, I-Rowan and myslef, have some news to share.” Yrene starts smacking Chaol’s arm excitedly, the clues clicking together. While he complains, it not being obvious to him.

“I am with child. Terresan will have a heir!” She reveals, placing her left hand on top of her bump.

Cheers erupt from the long table of guests, many glasses are raised in celebration. Chaol, Yrene and Dorian are the first to make their way to talk to Aelin and Rowan.

Yrene practically throws herself on Aelin, already giving her advice on what to do if she starts feeling unwell in the mornings.

Both Chaol and Dorian shake Rowan’s hand, telling him he’ll make a great father to the child.

Chaol pulls him aside and starts telling him everything he needs to know about handling a pregnant wife, everything from cravings to midnight bathroom assistance is discussed.

Rowan is several shades lighter when they return, Aelin questions it, Rowan brushes it aside. Thinking about everything he has been told as he talks to others.

Later that night, Aelin sneaks out of bed, making her way to the royal gallery. She finds her parents portrait along with Gavin and Elena, telling each portrait the news. Tears swell, she blinks them away quickly knowing they wouldn't her to cry.

She begins to leave, but out of the corner of eye she could see a familiar couple watching her with happy faces with their own tears. The man wearing the crown she now wore herself.

tags: @zarixxx

#ohmygoditsrowaelin #rowaelin #headcanon #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan x aelin #pregnancy #pregnancy au #rowaelin baby #3 parts #part 2 #throne of glass #sarah j maas

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bronson · 5 years

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For the one-shot thing, could you do Aelin and Lysandra training or something and the cadre annoying them ? ☺️☺️

hmmm. yes

“Lys! Please,” Aelin huffed, “stop using your claws. I can’t compete with those things.” She shot her opponent a withering glare.

“Hey, you use your firey powers. This is what I bring to the table.” Lysandra smirked and gestured to the halo of fire surrounding Aelin’s golden hair, the sunlight glinting off the claws peeking out of Lysandra’s clenched fist.

“Fine, no powers.” Aelin winked out the fire above her head, raising her brows as a competitive grin overtook her face.

“Aelin?! Not using her powers in combat?!” a voice called out from further down in the clearing. “I thought I’d never see the day!”

Aelin rolled her eyes, trying to ignore Fenrys’ jabs. She and Lysandra began circling each other, fists raised. Lysandra cocked an eyebrow and Aelin smirked. Then, right as they were about to pounce, someone yelped. They both whipped their heads over to see Lorcan glowering and Fenrys clutching his bicep. Aelin let out a sigh.

“Play nice, boys.” Rolling her eyes, she turned back to her opponent. Lysandra’s face had grown a bit more wary but still ferocious. If Aelin wasn’t, well, Aelin, she might even be frightened by the hunger gleaming in those green eyes. They began circling again, approaching closer and closer. Lysandra lunged out at the queen and Aelin dodged back, but a foul word from the peanut gallery tripped her up…and sent her sprawling on her hindquarters. She shot back up but looked to the members of the cadre who were causing her such grief.

“Will we have to muzzle you?” Lysandra called out. Her grin said she was joking but the bite in her words said otherwise.

“We’ll shut our mouths, we promise,” Fenrys called out. Lorcan even mimed him locking his mouth with a key, a fairly comical gesture given his harsh and cold demeanor.

The male remained quiet for only mere seconds more before calling out an encouragement for Aelin as she swung at Lysandra again. Aelin opened her mouth to tell them off, but before she could, a hawk swooped down, almost taking off a chunk of Fenrys’ face with his talons.

Aelin smirked. She could always count on Rowan to do her bidding.

#i dont have a tag for my writing lMAOOO #my writing #tog #idk my dudes #Anonymous

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stupid-hoes-hoe · 5 years

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“”Aedion had been watching the guards in the hours he’d been chained to the stool, and had figured out who best to attach first, who favored a certain side or leg, who might hesitate when faced with the Wolf of the North, and, most importantly, who was impulsive and stupid enough to finally run him through despite the king’s command. The performances had begun, drawing the attention of the crowd that had been shamelessly gawking at him, and as the two dozen women floated and leaped and twirled into the wide space between the dias and his execution platform, for a moment, Aedion felt… bad for interrupting. These women had no cause to be caught up in the bloodshed he was about to unleash. It did seem fitting though, that the sparkling costumes were of the darkest black, accented with silver – Death’s Handmaidens, he realized. That was who they portrayed. It was as much a sign as anything. “” …”” The dancers were tossing fistfuls of black powder,coating the floor with it- representing ashes of the fallen, probably. One by one, they made pretty little spins and bowed before the king and his son. Time to move. The king was distracted by a uniformed guard whispering in his ear; the prince was watching the dancers with bored disinterest, and the queen was chatting with whichever courtier she favored that day. The crowd clapped and cooed over the unfolding performance. They’d all come in their finery- such careless wealth. The blood of an empire had paid for those jewels and silks. The blood of his people. An extra dancer was moving through the crowd: some understudy, no doubt trying to get a better view of the performance. And he might not have thought twice about it, had she not been taller than the others- bigger, curvier, her shoulders broader. She moved more heavily, as if somehow rooted innately to the Earth. The light hit her, shining through the lace of the costume’s sleeves to reveal swirls and whorls of marking on her skin. Identical to the paint on the dancers’ arms and chests, save for her back, where the paint was a little darker, a little different. Dancers like that didn’t have tattoos. Before he could see more, between one breath and the next, as a cluster of ladies in massive ball gowns blocked her from sight, she vanished behind a curtained-off doorway, walking right past the guards with a sheepish smile, as if she were lost. When she emerged againnot a minute later, he only knew it was her from the build, the height. The makeup was gone, and her flowing tulle skirt had disappeared- No – not disappeared, , he realized as she slipped back through the doorway without the guards so much as looking at her. The skirt had been reversed into a silken cape, its hood covering her ruddy brown hair, and she moved… moved like a swaggering man, parading for the ladies around him. Moved closer to him. To the stage. The dancers were still tossing their black powder everywhere, circiling around and around, flitting their way across the marble floor. None of the guards noticed the dancer-turned-noble prowling toward him. One of the courtiers did – but did not cry an alarm. Instead, he shouted a name- a man’s name. And the dancer in disguise turned, lifting a hand in greeting towards the man who’d called giving a cocky grin. She wasn’t just in disguise. She’d become someone else completly. Closer and closer she strutted, the music from the gallery orchestra rising into a clashing, vibrant finale, each not higher than the last as the dancers raised their glass roses above their heads: a tribute to the king, to Death. The disguised dancer stopped outside the ring of guards flanking Aedion’s stage, patting himself down as if checking for a handkerchief that had gone missing, muttering a string of curses. An ordinary, believable pause – no cause for alarm. The guards went back to watching the dancers. But the dancer looked up at Aedion beneath lowered brows. Even disguised as an aristo man, there was wicked, vicious triumph in her turquoise-and-gold eyes. Behind them, across the hall, the dancers shattered their roses on the floor, and Aedion grinned at his queen as the entire world went to hell. ~ It wasn’t just the glass flowers that had been rigged with the reactive powder, quietly purchased by Aelin at the Shadow Market. Every bit of sparkling dust the dancers had tossed about had been full of it. And it was worth every damned silver she’d spent as smoke erupted through the room, igniting the powder they’d been scattering everywhere. The smoke was so thick she could barely see more than a foot ahead, and blended perfectly with the gray cloak that had doubled as a skirt of her costume. Just as Arobynn had suggested. Screaming halted the music. Aelin was already moving for the nearby stage at the clock tower-that clock tower that would save or damn them all- struck noon. There was no black collar around Aedion’s neck, and that was all she needed to see, even as relief threatened to wobble her knees. Before the clock’s first strike finished, she had drawn the daggers built into the bodice of her costume- all the silver thread and beading masking the steel on her- and slashed one across the throat of the nearest guard. Aelin spun and shoved him into the man closest to him as she plunged her other blade deep into the gut of a third. The second strike of the closck tower sounded, and Aelin yanked her dagger from the belly of the groaning guard, another surging at her from the smoke. The rest would go to Aedion on instinct, but they’d be slowed by the crowds, and she was already close enough. The guard – one of those black-uniformed nightmares- stabbed with his sword , a direct attack to her chest. Aelin parried the thrust aside with one dagger, spinning into his exposed torso. Hot, reeking blood shot onto her hand as she shoved her other blade into his eye. He was still falling as she ran the last few feet to the wooden platform and hurled herself onto it, rolling, keeping low until she was right up under two other guards who were still trying to wave away the veils of smoke. They screamed as she disemboweled them both in two swipes. The fourth strike of the clock sounded, and there was Aedion, the three guards around him impaled by shards of his stool. He was huge- even bigger up close. A guard charged for them out of the smoke, and Aelin shouted “Duck!” before throwing her dagger at the man’s approaching face. Aedion barely moved fast enough to avoid the blow, and the guard’s blood splattered on the shoulder of her cousin’s tunic. She lunged for the chains around Aedion’s ankles, sheathing her remaining blade at her side. A jolt shocked through her, and blue light seared her vision as the Eye flared. She didn’t dare pause, not even for a heartbeat. Whatever spell the king had put on Aedion’s chains burned like blue fire as she sliced open her forearm with her dagger and used her blood to draw the symbols she’d memorized on the chains: Unlock. The chains thudded to the ground. Seventh strike of the clock. The screaming shifted into something louder, wilder, and the king’s voice boomed over the panicking crowd. A guard rushed at them, his sword out. Another benefit of the smoke: too risky to start firing arrows. But she’d only give Arobynn credit if she got out of this alive. She unsheathed another blade, hidden in the lining of her gray cloak.The guard went down clutching at his throat, now split ear to ear. Then she whirled to Aedion, pulled the long Eye from around her neck, and threw it over his head. She opened her mouth, but he gasped out, “The sword.” And that’s when she noticed the blade displayed behind his stool. The Sword of Orynth. Her father’s blade. She’d been too focused on Aedion, on the guards, and the dancers, to realize what blade it was. “Stay close,” Was all she said as she grabbed the sword from the stand and shoved it into his hands. She didn’t let herself think too much about the weight of that blade, or about how it had even gotten there. She just grasped Aedion by the wrist and raced across the platform toward the patio windows, where the crowd was shrieking and guards were trying to establish a line. The clock issued its ninth strike. She’d unlock Aedion’s hands as soon as they got to the garden; they didn’t have another second to spend in the suffocating smoke. Aedion staggered but kept upright, close behind as she leaped off the platform into the smoke, right where Brullo claimed two guards would hold their position. One died with a dagger to his spine, the other a blow to the side of the neck. She squeezed the hilts of her daggers against the slippery blood now coating them-and every inch of her. His sword gripped in both hands, Aedion jumped down beside her, and his knees buckled. He was injured, but not from any wound she could see. She’d discerned as much in the moments she’d weaved through the crowd, altering her demeanor as Lysandra had instructed. The paleness of Aedion’s face had nothing to do with fear, nor did his shallow breaths. They’d hurt him. It made killing these men very, very easy. The crowd was bottlenecking by the patio doors, just as she had calculated. All it took was her shouting “Fire! Fire!” and the screaming turned frantic. The crowd began shattering the windows and the glass doors, trampling one another and the guards. People grabbed buckets to douse the flames, water spraying everywhere and splashing away the Wyrdmarks on the thresholds. The smoke billowed out ahead, leading the way into the garden. Aelin pushed Aedion’s head down as she shoved him into the mass of fleeing courtiers and servants. Thrashing, squeezing, shouting, ripping at her clothes, until- until the noontime sun blinded her. Aedion hissed. Weeks in the dungeons had probably wrecked his eyes. “Just hold onto me,” she said, putting his massive hand on her shoulder. He gripped her hard, his chains knocking against her as she waded through the crowd and into open, clear air beyond. The clock tower bellowed its twelfth and final strike as Aelin and Aedion skidded to a halt before a line of six guards blocking the entrance to the garden hedges. Aelin stepped out of Aedion’s grip, and her cousin swore as his eyes adjusted enough to see what now lay between them and escape. “Don’t get in my way,” she said to him, then launched herself at the guards.””

Queen of Shadows Sarah J Maas

#Queen of Shadows #Sarah Maas #words #my new favorite scene from any book ever

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lysandra-vanburen · 6 years

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Memories Fade

“Dad?”

There was uncertainty in the woman’s voice.

Hesitation was a difficult thing to cover up, and for a moment Lysandra had begun to panic internally as she clung with a death grip to the present she had acquired for her father. The paper wrapped gift felt more homely than the narrowed, steely gaze of Dietrich Vanburen.

The tension in the room was overwhelmingly suffocating, stifling any attempt of conversation from either party who stared at each other -- one with a pleading gaze and the other with a mixture of fright and confusion.

“Who are you?”

What breath was hitched in Lysandra’s throat expelled in a heavy outward gasp of defeat. Instantly the woman brought a hand to her lips to stifle a sob, her golden eyes squeezing shut in the effort to compose herself... The only way she could do that was to not further see the exhaustion riddling her fathers face, to not see his genuine fear, confusion and that sparkle of guilt in the back of his blue eyes that assured her he had some recollection... But his sickness was so advanced he couldn’t quite place her anymore.

It broke Lysandra’s heart.

His illness had been eating at his memories for years, the entire family had been warned that one day he would completely lose her memories... Perhaps she was clinging to the hope that he would be healed was too far fetched, the fact that she hung onto that hope was so unhealthy that having to address the issue that he would never get better was a crushing blow.

She was absolutely distraught being forced to see her father weathered down into a weaker form of himself. He had always been a voice of reason, a pillar of discipline and strength...

Lysandra’s lungs would begin to ache with the need for air, her mind becoming fuzzy with the lack of oxygen -- so much so that her knees would buckle, her body falling back into a chaise lounge chair situated against one of the less dressed walls withing the art gallery, her eyes leaking the tears she so desperately tried to repress.

The moment rough hands gently caressed her cheeks she’d pause and bring her watery gaze up to the kindled gaze of her father, the both of them at a loss for words.

“Little flower, why do you cry?”

There was genuine concern in the elder man’s voice, so much that hope kindled within her soul. Often her mother and father affectionately referred to her as flower, given her middle name being Petunia.

“Are you lost? I must say, I am lost myself...”

In an instant the hope had vanished, her head beginning to shake before bringing a single hand up to caress the back of one of her father’s hands. Her head turned slightly to nuzzle against his fleshy palm, whispering in her defeat, “I am lost... Let us be lost together?”

He’d heave a soft sigh, beginning to nod before taking her hand in his own and claiming the soft cushion beside her, “I quite like that idea. It’s beginning to weigh on me, walking around so much.”

Momentarily Lysandra would stare at their hands. Her own had always looked so small in his, even as a child his dwarfed her own. It had always made her feel safe, seeing the drastic differences in the size of their hands. It felt as though he could always protect her, cloaking her away from harm and providing her guidance in the roughest of times. But now... Now she felt even more lost than before. She knew this man was her father, and forever in her heart he would remain just that... her father.

But no longer was he able to guide her. He couldn’t even remember her name! It was a strange concept, one that was a bitter pill of reality being forced down her throat. She no longer had her father’s wisdom to help her. She could only help herself.

“I found this for you,” Lysandra whispered, gathering the paper wrapped present before offering it to the older man.

He visibly brightened at the prospect of a gift, his tender eyes twinkling in the well lit room’s candle light -- like a child. He proceeded in offering the woman a grateful smile before he’d release her hand and begin to tear away the gift wrapping, “Oh my- Whats the occasion?”

She hesitated as he’d draw the pristine, hard back cover of ‘Lafette’s Ten Mysteries’, “It’s, uh... It’s your birthday... I remember you use to read this to me when I was a child,” she confided, “You always told me it was one of your favorites when you were a child.”

He didn’t even blink at hearing it was his birthday.

Truthfully she was hoping it would spark some sort of memory in the elder man. It was both of their favorite book, a story detailing the misadventures of a strong willed sassy little street rat who had to uncover ten artifacts to uncover the location of her missing siblings. There was heart, drama and action within the 500 paged book.

How he had thought such a long, detail oriented story would befit a child at six years old was unknown to her, but she was glad he thought that way... It honestly put her to bed barely the first few chapters in, when she was six... But by the time she was nine it became a wonderful tale that they both would build their relationship off of for the remainder of their years.

And much to Lysandra’s mirth, Dietrich’s eyes would brighten.

“I... I remember this,” he’d breathe out, chuckling softly whilst his finger pads gently caress the intricately designed spine of the dark blue book, “I use to... I use to read this to my Lysandra...”

She’d grow pale, a hand reaching out to touch the gentleman’s forearm. Before she could tell him her own name he’d turn to her, his widened eyes filled with excitement as he asked, “Would you like me to read this for you? It’s a wonderful tale!”

Lysandra’s shoulders would slump, recognizing that she was still but a stranger in his eyes... And for a moment she considered crying once more... But the mere fact that he still had such an intimate memory was enough. That was the most she could ask for.

With a forced smile the woman nodded.

“Of course, I would love that...”

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yoannlossel · 7 years

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I'm absolutely thrilled to annouce that my piece "The Rise" won several awards and prizes in the 13th Art Renewal Center Salon Competition! The 1st place in the Drawing category, the 2nd place in the Imaginative Realism category (the first one is the somptuous piece by Gerald Brom), an ARC Purchase Award, an Arcadia Contemporary Award and an Aristides Publication Prize for Drawing. Many thanks to the jurors of the Drawing and Imaginative Realism categories : Dan Thompson, Fred Ross, Juliette Aristides, Jeannie Zaengle Wilshire, Michael John Angel and Anthony Waichulis. Thank you to the Arcadia Gallery for its choice. Finally, thank you so much to Frederick C. Ross, ARC Chairman, for its words in the "Chairman's Introduction", and thank you very much to Kara Lysandra Ross, ARC Co-Chairs. And of course, once again, thank you to @psycheophiuchus, my love, muse and model. #arc #artrenewalcenter #competition #imaginativerealism #drawing #arcsalon #muse #goldleaf #graphite #painting #therise #yoannlossel #psycheophiuchus @yoann.lossel

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nerdgeekfeelings · 7 years

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Depois de um terceiro livro problemático, pra não falar coisa pior, temos Maré Congelada o quarto volume de A Queda dos Reinos, série de fantasia da escritora canadense Morgan Rhodes estrelada pelos colírios da Capricho. Maré Congelada é um livro melhor que o seu antecessor, A Ascensão das Trevas, mas que ainda deixa a desejar, não conseguindo chegar no nível dos dois primeiros livros. Podemos dizer que a autora perdeu a mão na hora de escrever. Ela tenta nos abalar com mortes desnecessárias e desinteressantes, enquanto dá a certeza que os quatro protagonistas não vão morrer.

Recapitulando – No final do terceiro livro a situação dos protagonistas era seguinte: Magnus traiu seu pai e salvou Cleo de ser executada, os dois fugiram e foram atrás de Lucia, que fugiu com seu amado vigilante Ioannes. Essa jornada termina com Magnus, Cleo e Nic indo parar em Limeros, onde enfrentam Amara e seus guardas em uma sangrenta batalha que termina com a morte de Ashur, príncipe de Kraeshia, e com Amara levando um dos cristais da Tétrade, a água. Controlado por Melenia, Ioannes é obrigado a machucar Lucia, e acaba matando a si mesmo para não matar a garota. Jonas salva Lysandra de ser executada; usa as informações que Cleo descobriu para encontrar dois dos quatro cristais da Tétrade, mas ele descobre que Felix, um importante aliado e amigo, é membro do Clã da Najas, grupo de assassinos subordinados ao Rei Gaius. Os dois brigam, Jonas é ferido e Felix leva o cristal do ar embora. Lucia destrói Malenia como vingança e parte em uma jornada acompanhada pelo deus do fogo Kyan, que foi libertado de um dos cristais da Tétrade.

Magnus

Cleo

Jonas

Lucia

O livro 4 começa exatamente onde o terceiro terminou, e segue em um ritmo lento no começo, mas que logo é substituído pela taquicardia frenética que surgiu no terceiro livro. Os personagens Magnus e Cleo continuam indecisos, desconfiados um do outro, mesmo com uma semente de amor germinando entre os dois, eles ainda se veem como inimigos e se ofendem e brigam como cão e gato. Jonas e Lysandra têm que lutar pra manter o rapaz vivo, pois a ferida deixada por Felix infecionou, e ele mal consegue se manter de pé. Lucia abraçou a causa do deus do fogo e, juntos, deixam um rastro de destruição por onde passam, embora a garota questione várias da ações cometidas por ambos. Felix volta servir o Rei Gaius, faz um monte de merda, apanha pra caramba e começa a questionar seus atos. (Resumindo, esses jovens estão muitos rebeldes)

Nossos queridos vilões, Rei Gaius e Amara, acabam se revelando personagens mais complexos do que aparentavam. Logo no prólogo, somos apresentados a uma versão criança do Rei Sanguinário, e descobrimos que a mãe dele era uma bruxa; vemos que os únicos com quem ele se importa são os filhos Magnus e Lucia; e no final o próprio Gaius já se apaixonou por alguém. Quanto a Amara, vemos que as ações da garota é fruto da vingança de sua avó, Neela; e que Amara sente remorso em ter matado seu irmão Ashur. E ainda somos apresentados a um novo pretendente a vilão, que prometia, mas não passa de um bananão (vide Caio Ribeiro).

E, pela primeira vez, vemos uma terra que não seja o continente de Mitica. Kraeshia parece uma mistura de Índia com Turquia, onde as mulheres não têm poder algum e é liderada por um imperador obcecado por beleza e poder. Ainda assim, Kraeshia cativa mais que Mitica, é melhor descrito, e se manifesta melhor na narrativa como se tivesse vida própria.

Entrando em uma questão mais técnica, nesse livro temos a aniquilação de qualquer chance de tensão que a história poderia ter, porque já ficou claro que, não importa o que ocorra, os protagonistas não vão morrer. Você nunca sente que os quatro estão realmente correndo risco de vida, e sim que eles sempre serão salvos por um detalhe. Agora, matar coadjuvantes não é problema, a autora fez isso tantas vezes que você nem simpatiza mais com os secundários que aparecem (tirando a Nerissa Florens, que é a melhor personagem). Prova disso é o garoto piromaníaco que aparece no terceiro livro, ele nem é apresentado direito e já morre dois capítulos depois. Em Maré Congelada a questão do óbito excessivo de coadjuvantes ainda se repete, mas em uma escala bem menor se comparada ao segundo livro.

Mas devo parabenizar Morgan Rhodes por me enganar em uma parte especifica envolvendo Theon, um personagem que morreu há algum tempo. A autora também reaproveitou bastante alguns personagens esquecidos que haviam sumido, o que foi bem melhor que criar personagens novos e sem personalidade, só pra matá-los logo em seguida.

Finalizando, Maré Congelada recuperou um pouco do tempero que a série tinha no começo. Ainda falta um pitada de sal aqui, um alecrim ali. Então, vou esperar com bastante bastante pensamento positivo que a autora não perca os rumos dessa receita novamente.

P.S: Não entendi o que o título Maré Congelada tem a ver com o livro. Talvez represente a estagnação de história e de seus personagens perante eventos atípicos e épicos. Ou vai ver não tem nada a ver, e seja só um título chamativo.

Editora Seguinte

Tradução: Flávia Souto Maior

Brochura

22,8 x 15,6 x 2,6 cm

440 páginas

Compre aqui

[LIVRO] Maré Congelada, de Morgan Rhodes. (Jovens, Bonitos e Rebeldes) Depois de um terceiro livro problemático, pra não falar coisa pior, temos Maré Congelada o quarto volume de…

#A Queda dos Reinos #bruxa #Editora Seguinte #fantasia #Flávia Souto Maior #Índia #Maré Congelada #Morgan Rhodes #resenha #resenha livro #turquia #vingança

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Text

Merry Halloween

31 Days of Spooktober

Day 5/31

Prompt: “it's december. we can't celebrate halloween in december” “yes, we can” one where rowan can't spent halloween with aelin so aelin decides they're going to celebrate in december

Aelin was exhausted.

She really thought that finishing college and finally working on her own in the gallery would be the best thing ever, but in reality it was just brutal. She had an assistant only twice a week, meaning that the other days she was all by herself working on several different pieces of art that required all her attention. She was hoping that Borte would accept working full week next year, and that Kaltain and Elide would actually join her in the gallery when both graduated in the next spring.

For now, however, Aelin was tired, feet dragging as she came home.

An empty home.

That was another problem she hadn’t thought about before graduating months ago. Her art and history degree had only taken four years, as it was the norm, but her boyfriend, pursuing law, would have to go to Law School for another three years. It was fine, they agreed. It was a lot of busy work but they surely could make it work.

That is, until Rowan moved to Boston and Aelin remained in Chicago.

The long distance relationship fucking sucked, but it was that or breaking up with Rowan, something she didn’t see herself doing in a million of years. And so, for the past seven months, they had been living off phone calls, FaceTime and very rare weekends in which Aelin managed to fly to Boston. It wasn’t by any means ideal, but it was somewhat working.

And yet, as she walked home, looking at all the couples buying Christmas decorations, dinning together and just living their lives with one another, Aelin couldn’t help but feel a deep pang of jealousy. Her two favorite holidays were Halloween and Christmas, and she wouldn’t be able to spend neither with Rowan.

During October, he was too busy with the first quarter tests, and now he was studying like crazy for his midterms. There was no way he could go to Chicago, and Aelin didn’t have the funds or the time to go to Boston. She had to keep the gallery open, especially during Christmas season.

She hadn’t seen her boyfriend in more than three months and it fucking sucked.

She fucking missed him.

Aelin finally arrived in her townhouse, courtesy of her granduncle’s will, and almost cried of relief. She just wanted to take a bath, order something to eat and call Rowan. It was Friday, so hopefully he would be done with his studies for the day and would be able to spend hours on the phone with her.

Thinking better, she could both shower and order with him already on the phone, so as she opened the front door, Aelin also started looking for her phone inside her purse. The thing was way too big and way too full, meaning that Aelin was bound to spend minutes looking for that goddamn phone.

“I need to be more organized.” Aelin grunted, stepping in. She started taking off her scarf as she still tried to look down at the purse. “A-ha!”

Aelin raised the phone triumphantly in front of her, and it took her only a few seconds to realize what was behind the phone.

“What. The. Fuck.” Aelin breathed, gripping the phone harder as she let her coat and purse fall to the ground, feet taking her deeper into the hall. She also felt her jaw dropping, mind so confused she didn’t know what to do first. She didn’t know if this was some of Aedion’s pranks or if she should be actually concerned and call the cops.

All around the townhouse, small Christmas decorations made the place look like it was the fucking North Pole. Even Fleetfoot, sitting by the fire that Aelin was a hundred percent sure she had not lit, was dressed in her small Santa hat, bitting a bone in the shape of a candy cane that Aelin was also sure she hadn’t given the dog.

The confusion only thickened when she realized that every decoration, every small stocking and red lanterns, were exactly where she would have put them. The townhouse was relatively big, and Aelin just knew that if this was one of Aedion’s pranks, he wouldn’t have done it so perfectly.

Aelin’s mind was racing, heart beating fast as she was torn between confusion and the need to grab Fleetfoot and run.

“I’d hope you’d be smiling more in this occasion.” A male voice came from behind her, and Aelin immediately whipped her head to the man now standing near Fleetfoot, hands on his pockets and a grin on his lips. His grey-silver hair was a little longer than the last time they saw each other in person, but the tanned skin, pine green eyes and handsome face were still the same.

Aelin dropped her phone, frozen in place for a single second before a joyful laugh ripped through her. The man’s grin widened, and he walked a few steps forward as Aelin ran to him. She threw herself in his arms, her own arms sneaking around his neck as she pulled him closer to her. Rowan hugged her back with a bone-crushing force, face burying on the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

“What are you doing here?!” Aelin asked, her cheeks hurting from smiling. She pulled her face back, staring right into his green eyes, face also lit with so much happiness that it made Aelin’s heart expand.

Rowan tried shrugging. “I missed Fleetfoot.”

Aelin laughed, hugging his neck tighter as she raised herself on her tiptoes. “I missed you so fucking much.”

Rowan lowered his head, hands going from her hips up to her face, cupping her cheeks as he pressed his mouth against hers. Aelin sighed in content, body immediately melting against Rowan’s as his hot lips moved on top of hers. It had been months since she had kissed her boyfriend, and the feeling of his boy against hers, his lips against hers was the best present she could ask for.

“I missed you so fucking much too, Ace.” Rowan murmured, bitting her bottom lip and then sweeping his tongue lightly against it. Aelin opened her mouth, feeling Rowan’s tongue enter it and touch hers. Her mind that had been racing seconds ago because of confusion was now racing for a different reason, whole body heating as Rowan deepened the kiss, mouth and tongue moving harder and more intensely against hers. Aelin dragged her hands down his neck all the way to the middle of his back, gripping his shirt as she took a small step forward, grounding her hips against Rowan’s.

Rowan’s hands were in her hair, fingers tangling with the strawberry blonde waves. He pulled some strands softly, earning a small and quiet moan from Aelin. When he heard it, Aelin felt a small huff of laughter against her mouth and she was ready to drag Rowan to her room and make up for the lost time.

However, it looked like Fleetfoot had a different idea, because the puppy got up barking, circling Rowan and Aelin’s feet. Aelin drew back, breathless, and looked down. She chuckled at the small, fluffy ball at their feet, and bent down to grab her.

When Aelin got up again, body still pressed against Rowan’s but now with Fleetfoot taking up some space, she chuckled once more. “Looks like someone wants attention.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “Traitor. I bring you a present and you cock-block me.” Fleetfoot simply barked, throwing her paws at Rowan’s chest. He rolled his eyes, but smiled as he picked up Fleetfoot from Aelin. “Good to know both of you missed me.”

Aelin chuckled, shaking her head. “Her most of all.”

Rowan took his eyes from Fleetfoot for a second to wink at Aelin before focusing on the dog again. She was still a puppy, meaning that both of Rowan’s hands basically engulfed her. However, she didn’t really seem to care. Fleetfoot absolutely adored Rowan, and he would pretend he didn’t adore her as much. Seeing the two together, Rowan holding the puppy as if it was a toy, made Aelin feel her whole body relax further, a serene smile on her face.

“You’re staring.” Rowan murmured, eyes not leaving the dog.

Aelin shrugged, hugging him tighter. “I wish you could live with us.”

Rowan looked at her, an eyebrow raised and a hint of humor on his face. “Oh?”

They had been dating for over three years now, and it was no doubt that neither of them thought that the relationship would end. Aelin lived with Lysandra during college and Rowan had lived with Lorcan, otherwise they would have probably shared an apartment already.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Stop trying to get me to boost your ego.”

Rowan grinned, holding Fleetfoot with one hand as the other one pulled Aelin by her waist. “You want to live with me, Aelin Galathynius?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I just said I do.”

“That’s adorable. No, really, I’m fucking flattered.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Aelin said ironically.

“It’s like you’ve planned our whole lives already.”

“Please, be quiet.”

“I’d move in, probably propose during Christmas.”

“You are insufferable.”

“I’d put a baby on you by next Christmas.”

Aelin snorted, shaking her head. “Have you been thinking about putting a baby inside of me, Ro?”

Rowan nodded dutifully. “Definitely have been thinking about the process a lot for the past months. We could be training for it right now if this small version of the Devil wasn’t so needy.”

Aelin laughed, petting Fleetfoot. “Don’t be mean, we three know you kiss the floor she walks on.” Rowan snorted, causing Aelin to smile more. “And if you are wondering, I’ve been thinking about the process too, I promise.”

Rowan grinned, opening his mouth to say something. In a matter of seconds, however, the grin became a frown and he sighed. “I can’t ask it with this thing here. She’s one year old, it’s awkward.”

Aelin clamped her lips together, smirking as she winked at Rowan. “The answer is yes, if you were about to ask what I think you were. Unfortunately you’ll have to wait until this one goes to sleep to be sure. She’ll follow you all evening.”

Rowan huffed half heartedly, walking up to the sofa and sitting down, Fleetfoot resting against his chest.

Aelin snorted, looking at him as she kept standing. The soft smile returned to her lips and, this time, when Rowan raised his eyebrows, his smile matched hers. “What?”

“I love you.” She said simply, walking up to him. She stood in between his legs, one of his hands gripping the back of her thigh as he looked up at her. “And I actually wish you could live with us here. Halloween was fucking shit to spend alone, and you probably will leave by Sunday meaning that I’ll be here alone for Christmas because there is no way I’d make you come back here a week after leaving, and I need to keep the gallery open.”

“Ace…” Rowan brushed his thumb against her skin.

“Long distance relationship fucking sucks.” She mumbled.

Rowan sighed. “Come here.” Aelin sat on the sofa, legs over his lap as he put his arm around her shoulders. Aelin rested her head, looking up at him. He bent down, kissing her softly. “I love you too. And I wish we could have done our Halloween marathon together with copious amounts of candy while we wore those ridiculous pumpkin pajamas, but—“

Aelin immediately sat up, eyes wide and mouth pulled into a smile. “Let’s do it.”

“You didn’t let me finish. And what?”

“Let’s do it. There is a store by the end of the street and all the Halloween decorations are in the attic. I have the movies and the pajamas are probably with the stuff you left in Chicago when you went to Boston.”

Rowan’s brows furrowed. “Ace, it’s December. We can’t celebrate Halloween in December.”

“Yes, we can.” Aelin announced, grinning at him. Rowan shook his head, letting out a huff before nodding.

“Very well.”

Aelin squealed, throwing her arms around Rowan’s neck. He laughed, hugging her back by the waist. Even Fleetfoot raised her head, barking excitedly.

“Ok, so I’ll look for the pajamas in that mess of boxes and you’ll take Fleetfoot to the store.” Aelin said, getting up. Rowan nodded, holding Fleetfoot like a sack of potatoes. Aelin eyed him, shaking her head. “Thinking of you as a father is terrifying.”

Rowan grinned, walking to the door to grab Fleetfoot’s leash. “We’ll be fucking amazing parents, what are you talking about?”

Aelin snorted, walking up to him and placing tow quick kisses to his jaw. “I’ll also take a quick shower. Bring anything we used to buy during college.”

Rowan nodded, opening the door. “Fucking shit, I never forget how fucking cold this town is, and yet I’m always surprised.”

As he left, Aelin ran upstairs, opening boxes upon boxes until she found the pajamas.

She grinned, they were fucking ridiculous.

Aelin had gotten them in a Halloween fair during freshman year of college. At that time, she wasn’t dating Rowan yet, but they had… something. It was strange overall, but allowed them to spend an ungodly amount of time together. When Aelin won one of those hoops games, she chose the stupidest thing she could find. It turns out it was a couples’ matching pajamas— the thing was one piece for each, bright orange with a series of small pumpkins all over it. The hood was green and with a brown thing on top.

It was horrendous and Aelin had to physically force Rowan into them before it became a joke for them.

She then ran to the bathroom, taking a quick shower in the hopes of being ready by the time Rowan came back with Fleetfoot. Although rushed, by the time Aelin went downstairs, Rowan had already arrived back. He even had the time to go to the attic to grab the Halloween decoration boxes.

He looked her up and down when she cam down the stairs, a smile overtaking his lips. “You look ridiculous.”

Aelin grinned, throwing him his ridiculous piece of clothing. “And naked underneath. Now go change.”

Rowan looked her up and down once more, something different in his pine green eyes. When Fleetfoot barked again, he simply sighed, going to the bathroom. “I hate your dog.”

“Our dog.” Aelin singsonged.

For the rest of the night, they put up the Halloween decorations with the Christmas ones, making the townhouse look strangely funny. They sat down to watch the classic movies they always did, eating a whole bowl of candy together. Rowan wasn’t the biggest fan of sweets, but he always opened an exception for Aelin during Halloween.

It was around three in the morning when they finished the fourth movie. Fleetfoot was snoring soundly at their feet, Aelin’s whole body pressed against Rowan’s as he hugged her.

“Want to know something terrifying?” Rowan whispered against her ear, teeth brushing the lobe.

Aelin smiled, still staring at the screen showing the fifth movie beginning. “Huh?”

“We’ll have to clean all this up tomorrow. And take down the Halloween decorations because I won’t celebrate Christmas in a house full of Halloween shit.”

It took Aelin a minute to understand what he meant. She turned her face to him, hope blossoming inside her chest so fast she was almost dizzy. Her nose hit his, and her turquoise and gold eyes were staring straight into his pine green ones. “Celebrate Christmas here? As in you’ll be here a week from now?”

Rowan’s grin was huge and joyful. “Yeah. And New Year’s Eve too.”

“Ro?”

He cupped her face, thumb smoothing over the crease between her eyebrows that had formed because of the confusion. “And the rest of next year. And hopefully all years after that because I wasn’t joking about proposing to you on Christmas, so I hope you weren’t joking about me living here either.”

Aelin let out an incredulous laugh, mouth breaking into a smile as her eye watered. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

“You’re looking at the new Law student in the University of Chicago.” Rowan said, laughing quietly with her. “It’ll be hard to get rid of me now, Ace.”

Aelin laughed out loud, not even remembering that Fleetfoot was sleeping near as she threw herself in Rowan’s lap, legs straddling his hips. She grabbed his face with both hands, pressing her lips against his and kissing him passionately as both of them laughed. Aelin felt as if she was in the biggest high of her life, her whole body consumed by happiness and warmth, head light and yet filled with Rowan.

“Oh my Gods.” Aelin whispered against his mouth, another laugh coming out of his, “Oh my fucking Gods.”

Rowan simply cupped her face back, fingers playing with her hair. “I know. I love you too.”

A/N: Halloween, Christmas and Rowaelin. My three favorite things. Thank you so much for this ask, you have no idea how i squealed when I read it! About the kinktober1: I will only post either tomorrow or Wednesday. I’m so sorry, but I bombed one of my tests and tomorrow there’s like a second chance, like a make up, and I needed to study so I didn’t have time to finish. It will be Rowaelin since I’m more comfortable with them. Because of the wait, I think it’s ok I give a small spoiler about which couple tomorrow’s scene will be: Jily.

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