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moonlitstoriess · 3 months

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Across the Universe-ch.5 (Fenrys x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

Warnings: violence, mentions of trauma, abuse, sexual tensioooon

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Throughout her life so far, y/n has not met many humans. In fact, the only humans she ever met were the Archeron sisters. It was after the war against Hybern that, when Feyre, her high lady for whom y/n would once do anything for, began her diplomatic arrangements between humans and fae. That is when she would join Lucien and Jurian from time to time, and go to the mortal lands in order to negotiate, set new rules and mediate peace.

Which is why, as she stood in this hall now and saw 2 more humans apart from Elide and Lorcan, y/n was quite unsure and observative. From the corner of the room, she watched everyone hug, except for Lorcan of course because it seems like Elide is the only one who ever gets his nonstop clinging, and greet the new arrivals. It was also annoying how her eyes seemed to only look at the wolf who was looking as delicious as eve- Cauldron, y/n. Get yourself together and stop drooling after the most frustratingly arrogant male in existence.

Her eyes then took in the beautiful woman whose name was Yrene, if she remembered the servants words clearly. She had golden-brown skin and breathtaking curly hair with small specks of dark gold visible. Not to mention her slender frame and very generous other features that most probably drew both men and womens attention to her. This woman looked like a Godess of the Sun.

Y/n's attention then moved to the tall man-Chaol, apparently, beside her. His chestnut hair that is slightly long enough for some strands to reach his brow is what stands out to her first, followed by his copper-brown eyes. Apart from his height, he also seems very muscular. He would be considered quite handsome if not for the small frown on his face directed at y/n. That is when she realized that the room has gone completely silent as everyone is watching her. She swallowed her growing unease and said with a formal tone, "Y/n."

Yrene smiled as she came slightly closer, followed by Chaol who had one hand on his sword, "We heard quite a lot about you in Aelin's letter, Y/n. I am Yrene Westfall, it is so nice to finally meet you."

Then, Yrene nudged Chaol with her elbow as a sign to stop glaring and start talking. He cleared his throat and said, although still glaring and assesing her, and especially her wings "Chaol Westfall. Yrene's husband."

Y/N nodded in acknowledgment, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. It was also not helping that Lorcan's gaze was the harshest. He was staring with such intensity and anger that it was a surprise how she still had not melted away under his cruel gaze. "It's a pleasure to meet both of you," she replied diplomatically, trying to ignore the tension in Chaol's demeanor. She knew their arrival signaled an important moment in Aelin's plans, and if she wanted to find a way back home, she needed to navigate this encounter carefully.

Aelin stepped forward, once again breaking the silence that had settled over the room. "It is so good to have you both here again. Although, I am quite upset that Dorian did not come."

At that, Chaol turned back towards her and said, "Yes, he had some issues to solve in Morath regarding the growing number of rebels who were vandalising places as a sign of opposition to his rule. I offered to be the one to stay back while he came here but he insisted and told me to send his apologies."

Aelin nodded as Rowan stood beside his mate and put his arm around her waist. "Well, you two came a long way so have some rest and then we can discuss the matters at hand."

"Indeed, we have much to tell you."

Once Eva and Lysandra decided to lead the arrivals into the guest bedroom, y/n seperated from everyone as she went up to her room to begin finding a way to decipher this book. But, just when she put the book on the table, a knock came from the other side of the room.

When y/n opened it, Lorcan was on the other side. She did not have a chance to react before he stepped in, closed the door, and took y/n by her neck, pressing her into the cool wall. He was nose to nose with her as he snarled, showing his fangs before saying in a voice that made her feel awful things, "You can fool everyone else with your acts, but not me. I was an immortal once too so do not think for a minute that just because I am now a human, I am somehow weaker than you are. No, I have my eyes all on you and if I even get a whiff of something suspicious, something that poses as a threat to us, or most importantly, to my wife and children, I won't hesitate to end you right then and there. Are we clear?"

His hands, she remembered his hands when they were choking her.

Those hands that almost ended her life. Oh Mother, she did not die then, but she would die now.

No, no, NO, NO-

He then unwrapped his hand from around her throat as y/n held on to the wall while coughing and taking in large gulps of air. Forcing her mind and body back to reality.

I am y/n. I am 152 years old and I am free. I am safe. I am strong. I won't cower. I am a warrior.

She repeated her chants in her mind 2 more times before the blur was gone.

When she calmed down, she forced her face into cool indifference "If you think that by choking and threatening me I will be scared of you, you are utterly wrong. In fact, your utter childish behavior since my awakening has been nothing but hilarious and even if in the beginning I may have found it amusing, I am getting bored of your antics now. My only goal is to get home as soon as possible. I do not trust any of you just like you do not trust me and while it is so 'heroic' that you think of me as a villain you should save your family from, I have no interest in fighting you. Therefore, you either help us find a way to stop the danger that is surely heading your way and send me home, or you could fuck off from my presence because believe me Lorcan, this will be the last time you ever stand in my way or put a hand on me. Because if you do so again, I won't hesitate to end you and then pretend to be sad while patting Elide's back as she cries over your grave."

Lorcan only stared at her with an unreadable expression before saying, "Choose your moves carefully." and with that, he turned around and left.

She went towards the mirror and to absolutely no one's surprise, his large hand had left a huge, red and angry mark around her neck. Y/n sank to her knees as another flashback ran through her mind.

She was 18.

He had given her a good amount of money and sent her to fetch the new scabbard that the swordsmith had created for him. However, it was as if unfortune followed her everywhere she went as a group of 3 males' got in her way.

"Look! a whore to use." one of them said as the other two laughed.

"What use are you talking about? She is all bones and no meat. Disgusting. Would not suggest touching her, even with a ten foot pole."

At that, they all laughed even harder while she only watched with a fearful gaze, trying but failing to get out of their way.

"Give us all your money or you die."

At that, she said, "No, I do not have any money."

One of them grabbed her wrist as he said, "Liar."

The other two immediately put their hands on her as they searched for the pouch with the money, hidden in the breastpocket of her dress.

She tried fighting, tried stopping them but they were soldiers, training to be warriors while she was nothing. They would crash her under their foot with no remorse whatsoever.

The male holding her wrist noticed the pouch poking from within her clothes and immediately ripped the front of her dress apart, leaving her only in her undergown, as he grabbed the money.

Without saying a word, they pushed her to the ground and stepped on her stomach before laughing and walking away.

"Bitch"

"Useless females"

"Lets go spend it"

That was all she heard as y/n clutched her stomach and lay in the middle of the cold and empty ground.

When she came home, with no scabbard, a ripped dress and an aching stomach, he got up from his desk and came towards her as he asked, "What happened?"

"S-some males...they...they took the money before I could even reach the swordsmith. They rip-ripped open the, the-"

"You do not have the scabbard?"

Of course he would not care about what happened to her. He only cared about the sole fact that she 'disobeyed' his rule.

In the blink of an eye, he had her back pressed to the wall as he choked her with his big, disgusting and meaty fingers.

"You fool! I gave you clear orders to follow and what did you do instead? Whore around with some males and let them take MY money."

She could not breathe as her feeble attempts at pushing his hand away resulted in nothing.

She was drowning. She was dying. Her vision was getting blurry.

It is alright, darkness would claim her soon. Darkness would welcome her. She believed in the Mother but darkness was what felt more comfortable for her.

It was time.

When y/n open's her eyes again, she is still in the same position in front of the mirror.

As she looked at her neck, her anger at Lorcan started rising again. But more than that, her own emotions, her pity for her younger self took over.

She hated Lorcan even more for bringing up another buried memory. And this one wasn't even in her dream!

With a sigh, she went into the washroom to wash away not only her sweat from the training, but also the feel of Lorcan's hand and the bad memory. Even if it was just a flashback, she still felt dirty to the core.

After a long and relaxing bath, she picked out a turtleneck white dress that was not too tight but hugged her curves just right. After using some of the beauty products and styling her hair, she decided to go to the gardens to clear her mind.

To say that this garden was big would be an understatement. It was huge. When y/n passed by it in the morning, she did not carefully look at it since she was busy trying to rid herself of her nightmare and the stress. But now, as she stood at it's entrance and took the whole view in, she realized how ethereal it is.

Various forms of flowers, plants and trees were taking up every part of the garden. It was an explosion of colors, life and peace. Peace because this whole place was so comfortingly quiet that it made y/n feel so safe, she never wanted to get out.

As she walked, she came across a small, black gate with intricate designs on it and once she entered it, there was a small fountain in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by more greenery. Y/n's awe was written all over her face as she sat on the small space next to the fountain. The sound of water cascading from the marble openings, birds chirping and the smell of nature made her feel all energetic and content.

"Enjoying the calmness?"

She turned around to see Yrene enter the area. She was wearing an elegant long-sleeved creme colored dress with gold highlights at the bottom. Y/n smiled slightly before raising her head up, closing her eyes and soaking in the sun "It has been quite some time since I last was in a place this serene."

Yrene sat beside her as she said, "You mean, you do not have such places in your world?"

"So you are aware about me."

She smiled "Well, it is hard not to be after Aelin sent like 15 different letters while we were on the way, informing us, although in a coded way so no one else understands, about what you told them."

Y/n sighed as she said, "Great. Well, I know you also do not like me so just ask what you need to."

Yrene looked genuinely confused "I do not hate you. I do not hate on other women or females. I myself grew up surrounded by women and their influence so even if you are a stranger from a different world, I do not see you as a threat. In fact, I would love to hear more about where you come from."

Y/n reigned in her shock and scoffed "The males and men in here would disagree. Especially Fenrys and Lorcan."

Yrene put her hand on y/n's shoulder as she said in a soothing voice, "Men, males who cares? They are all the same."

Y/n smirked slightly while raising an eyebrow "And you say this while having a husband?"

Yrene blushed slightly, "Well, the way we met was...unusual. I despised him at first."

Y/n was shocked as her eyes became twice their normal size "Not a chance! He seems so protective over you, well not to say any husband shouldn't, but I would never guess you two were once enemies."

Yrene smiled as she sighed softly "Yes, well, let that be a story for another day. Besides, it seems like we are going to be here for a while. Aelin said there is another thing apart from you being here that also needs to urgently be addressed."

At that, y/n's mood soured as she remembered the book, "The book! I need to get it."

"Wha-"

"There you two are!" Lysandras voice boomed through the area as she came into view.

"Well hello to you too, Lysandra" Yrene got up as she hugged the brown haired female.

Lysandra turned to look at y/n as her eyes widened "Oh my! Y/n that dress looks absolutely perfect on you! and matched with those jewelries? You do have taste in clothing after all- Sorry that came out rude it is just I only saw you in pants and a shirt soooo...this is new." she finished her sentence with a sheepish smile.

Y/n returned her smile with a small but genuine laugh as she said "No reason to apologise. After all, you look rather ravishing yourself." And she did. Lysandras tight forest green, velvet dress not only flattered all her curves, but also brought out the feautures on her face.

Yrene smirked as she nudged Lysandra by her arm and said, "I bet that Aedion will manage to supress himself for maximum 5 minutes before dragging you somewhere to shag."

Lysandra blushed and smiled as she said, "Well thank you, thank you. We can continue this complement battle at dinner. Shall we?"

"You two go. I need to get the book since we will be discussing it."

Lysandra nodded as she hooked her elbow with Yrene and they left. Y/n, tired of walking, flapped her wings and shot into the air. Oh wow, it has been what? two days? since she last flew.

Today was tiring enough. First, Fenrys did not get any sleep at night because even after he calmed y/n down, he still stayed awake in case she goes back to her unfortunate state. Of course this also caused him to overthink a bunch of things about her. What was she seeing? Does she also have dark secrets? What is her past like? But anyways, moving on, then he again had this small moment with y/n in the training area where his body was about to betray his rational mind due to lust.

Then came Chaol and Yrene. After they got rest for a bit, Chaol joined him, Lorcan and Rowan in Rowan's office where he had to sign letters an do his other princely stuff. Honestly? Fenrys did not know or care because his mind drifted off to when Lorcan followed y/n earlier this afternoon. Of course Fenrys couln't follow them without Lorcan immediately finding out but knowing that he followed her for some reason brought a sour taste to his mouth. What if they are working together? Fenrys would not put it past Lorcan because even now after the war he still sometimes despises him. But then again, he has Elide and two sons now, not to mention how he is blood sworn to Aelin so he can not act out of line.

Then why did he follow her?

This question has been bugging him at the back of his mind for the past 2 hours as Fenrys sat in one of the chairs around a large table in the dining room. His quick visit to the borders in order to check on and give out new orders to to the soldiers and do some other official work left him drained of both energy and magic.

Fenrys looked around the room to distract himself from the sleep his body was begging for. Just like in any other room, the signature Terrasen green was present. The multiple large windows surrounding the room gave a perfect view of sunset while its green and silver gray drapes were gathered by the sides. There were small lounge chairs and one large couch in front of the window. There was no carpet on the floors as the polished wood shined under the light in the room.

"Are you sure she can be trusted?" Chaol's voice brought him back from daydreaming as he assesed his family members places. Chaol was sitting opposite to him with his wife by his side, right next to Chaol sat Lorcan and Elide. Next to Fenrys was Aedion and next to him were Lysandra and Eva.

At the opposite sides end, next to Yrene, sat Rowan while his mate sat at the head of the table. This once again left only one space empty, and would you look at that...it was right next to him. When y/n would come, he would have to endure her here, by his side. Oh Gods-

"Well, me and Yrene do like her now. I don't know about the rest of you." Lysandra said while Aedion kissed her on the cheek "If my wife trusts her, then I trust her."

Eva smiled as she said, "I certainly trust her! She did not look at me like most strangers do."

Rowan raised an eyebrow "And how do they look?"

"Like they pity me or like I am some deranged child just because of these" she points to the scars on her face.

The room erupts at that.

"Who do I have to kill?"

"Names. Give me names. Now."

"Eva, why did you not mention that before?"

"Let me pay a nice little visit to them sweetheart."

But all that chaos quickly died down as y/n entered the room. The second his gaze landed on her, Fenrys thought that Rowan sucked the air out of him because suddenly, he forgot how to breathe.

There was no word in the world that would describe her now. She was wearing a deep purple gown with a turtle neck that hugged her body like second skin and ended below her ankles, showing her shoes just a little. Her hair was styled in a way that highlighted her facial features. Not to mention her small but still eye catching purple and gold earings dangling from her ears.

He suddenly felt like the room was too small. Too tight. He was feeling and imagining things that he definetly should not be about a suspect. But how could he not? She looked absolutely delicious and Fenrys would be willing to cut out his kidneys if he could just touch her once.

She came and sat down next to him, although slightly hesitantly and that was when her addictive scent of jasmine and peaches hit his nose. He barely managed to hold back his groan. He was so turned on it was not a joke anymore. So much so that, just from the smell of her scent, he felt like cu-

Y/n put the book that was in her hands on the table as she said, "I am aware that we were meant to have dinner first, discuss this later, but the sooner the better. Aelin, would you do the honors?"

When y/n had gone upstairs to take the book, she could not stand the itchiness that suddenly overcame her. That was why she took off the dress, cursed on Lorcan for a good 5 minutes when she saw the state her neck was in, and changed into something more fitting for a formal dinner.

This decision may also have been slightly influenced by the fact that Fenrys would be there and he would see her.

When she entered the room, she saw how everyone looked at her. The females with support and respect, the males with suspicious or vary glances. For some reason, Lorcan was not glaring but just...looking. Well, that is an improvement at least.

But even under all those stares, it was only one pair of eyes that made her feel things she should not be feeling. Especially not towards someone like Fenrys.

But how could she not? The way he was staring at her like she was the only female in the world and he was a starved traveler looking for his meal. Not to mention how he himself looked so distracting with his hair let loose, forest green and black clothing that was brought together by his brown, leather belt and his black loose pants. Even all those layers failed to hide his perfect, muscular, broad body. And then when she sat next to him--although hesitantly because even with all the lust coursing through her veins, she knew he was still not someone she could ever trust let alone get close to--his arousal hit her like a large wave of water.

How she managed to stay calm and collected while going crazy inside was an absolute shock to y/n. But she managed and put the book on the table.

Aelin stood and said, "On the contrary, I wanted to share the news before dinner which is why the table is currently empty."

And that was then, that y/n realized the table was indeed empty of any meals.

"Y/n found a book that might have some beneficial information for us. When we looked inside, we found out that the Book of Breathings may be another form of Wyrdkey. But then, we could not read any more because the language changed to one that we do not understand. Lysandra found a small prophecy at the corner of the page which, y/n could you read?"

At that, y/n turned towards the book and read the prophecy. Once she was done, she looked up to see everyone, except Lysandra and Aelin, having different facial expressions.

Chaol cleared his throat and spoke first, "So, now what? How do we understand more if we can not decipher the language?"

By now, everyone was looking at the ancient writings on the book. Yrene, her fingers scamming the page, said with some sort of confidence, "Chaol, this is just like what we discovered about the Valg in Antica. At Hasar's birthday getaway. Look at the drawings. They seem similar no? I think...I think I might have a chance at solving this."

Apparently, everyone was thinking the same thing because Aedion looked at others puzzled faces and asked, "You...how? Do you know this language? I am so confused"

"No, I do not know the language but, my mother was a very smart woman. Not only a healer but also an extraordinary philologist. She had deciphered multiple texts and recipes for healing antidotes from some centuries ago. That was how she even managed to create new medicines and afford us a living."

Y/n's heart fluttered with hope. Finally, a chance, an opening to get home. To understand whatever may be coming for them.

The shock, intrigue and excitement was written over everyone's faces. Even Lorcan, whose eyes just went wide before he put his angry giant act back on.

It was Rowan who closed his slightly open mouth, raised a brow and asked, "So, you have been taught the skill?"

Yrene nodded, "Even though it was long ago, I still think I could atleast give it a try. Besides, 3 years ago when we were in Antica, the way me and Chaol discovered new and ancient information on valgs may have given me a slight reminder. If we are lucky, I will be able to atleast get more information in a couple of days."

Pride was written all over Chaol's face as he kissed his wife's cheek and then hugged her as he said, "I will be by your side, helping you. We did it once, we can do it again."

Everyone was smiling brightly with hope, Aelin and y/n, the brightest of them all "Thank you, Yrene. Whatever you need just tell me I will make sure you have it."

Elide, now also hugging Yrene, detached from her as she said, "We can search more in the meantime. Let us not waste another second."

As y/n nodded her head in agreement, she felt a smaller hand touch her arm. When she turned around, Eva was giving everyone, especially her, the big puppy eyes as she said- no begged, "Can I please please be included this time? I really want to help now. Pleaseeee."

Y/n felt this sudden need to hug the girl, but she said, not caring for whatever Lysandra or Aedion might say, "Of course you can Eva. How can anyone say no to you?"

She turned around to see Lysandra shaking her head but smiling as she said, "Alright."

Eva squealed as she jumped on y/n, squeezing the life out of her.

"What? No! it is dange-" Aedion's denial was cut off when Lysandra put her hand on his chest and said, "Love, she is helping us search for more information, not going into battle. I know how much you love her but please, bring down your protectiveness a notch."

"Bu-"

"Aedion."

He sighed but then hugged Lysandra to his chest and whispered something that made her turn bright red as she slapped his chest playfully.

"We shall start from tomorrow morning then." Aelin said, while ordering a servant to bring in the meals.

4 hours later and y/n was back in her room, getting ready for bed. The day was hot enough for her to opt for a loose silk nightgown that ended slightly above her knees.

Hopefully, Yrene manages to find something more. Tomorrow, she will join Aelin at whatever she is planning to do in order to get more information. She has to quickly find her way home. In all honesty, she could not care less for whatever troubles may be coming their way because this is not her world and Aelin is not her queen. Let them deal with their own problems. All she needs is to get back ho-

Y/n nearly fell down and kissed the floor when she felt something slip beneath her feet. She cursed quietly and looked down to see one of the large square floorboards slightly crooked. When she leaned down to touch it, it moved, sliding away and revealing a set of stone stairs, leadin downwards. She could not see anything beyond the first 4 steps as it was complete and utter darkness.

Should she go down and see what it holds? Does Aelin know that there is something like this in her palace? Are there more of these passages? No. Her curiosity always got her into trouble and now she most definetly did not need to follow it. Whatever is down below, it does not look neither safe nor promising.

No. She most definetly did not want to go down there. Even if her heart was beating furiously and her body and even mind was begging her to go and explore.

Hesitantly, she got up and closed the passageway. She could pretend like this never happened and that she has no idea something like this even exists in the first place.

However, she could not go to sleep now with all this new curiosity and energy thrumming in her veins. Without even thinking, she left the room in just her nightgown and slippers. To go where? she had absolutely no idea. Maybe she could go back and sit in her balcony? She did not get the chance to do so yet and look at the vie-

Her inner monologue shut down the second she opened the door to her room only to see Fenrys just entering his. At the sound, he turned around and looked at her face. Or at what he could see from the darkness. Then his gaze fell upon her exposed shoulders and the upper part of her breasts due to the low cut of the nightgown. His gaze turned even darker as he went even further down and saw her exposed legs. She thanked the darkness of the room, only the moon slightly illuminating her body but hiding her face, scars and most importantly, her neck, that is still as horrible as it was in the morning, from his deadly gaze. Hopefully he was far away enough and the hall was dark enough to not see her scars. She would most definetly make Lorcan pay for this. She would also have to go and ask Isolde for some kind of a healing cream to apply. Discreetly, of course.

His gaze came back to her face, as he closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, clenched and unclenched his fists, exhaled and finally, opened them again as he calmly asked, "Where are you going?"

For some reason, she felt nervous under his gaze and found herself fidling with the edge of her nightgown as she replied surprisingly cooly, "Out. Get some fresh air."

His gaze narrowed "In...that?"

Well, he was right it would be foolish to walk around with this much skin exposed, not to mention the ugly mark on her neck. But, y/n would rather cut out her eye than admit someone like Fenrys is right. So, she looked at him arrogantly "And? I can do whatever I like."

"There are male servants here."

"Well, might as well give them a show."

The second she said that, he was right in front of her in an instant. So close that y/n could feel his chest slightly touching hers, causing goosebumps to arise all over her body. She could only see the outlines of his face and even that was enough to make her feel squirmy. She only hoped he can not see below her head.

"You are not going anywhere in that."

Y/n smirked "Why? Are you jealous?"

He also gave her a cruel smirk as he said, "I would rather get eaten by a Wyvern than ever feel jealous over you. It is simply that your current state is not helping your 'innocent' image. Leaving your room late at night? Hmm I wonder where do you go. Maybe to conspire somethings just like you were sent here to do by your High Lord or whatever?"

At that, all the girlish feelings she felt for him at that moment, melted away, leaving only anger and disgust. This was the Fenrys she should always excpect when it comes to her.

"How can you even entertain such an idiotic thought? Believe me neither my ex High Lord nor I are so bored that we need to cross worlds and start trouble in a foreign place."

"You are right. Because, after all, you do seem like a coward. Or at the very least someone who has no meaning in their life."

"W-what?! Of course...of course I have a purpose! I am a warrior, a respected persona in my world."

"And? those are all titles, images you put on. Even in this world you are a coward."

"What even makes you say that?"

"I saw it from the second I winnowed you here. You put up this brave act that no one scares you but believe me, I know that is all a nice little lie. In fact, you are useless. You are of no help here. You think that just because my family is softening towards you that you are one of us?" He chuckles at that and then continues "You will never fit in. I see you for what you are. An annoying brat who thinks the world revolves around her. So I say this one last time. Find your way out of here and leave as soon as possible. You are an extra headache I can not tolerate." with that, he turned around and went into his room, shutting his door and leaving her shattered in the middle of the dark hall. That bastard! He did not even give her time to respond.

She should not feel this way. She has heard much worse throughout her lifetime. He is just jealous that she is making peace with his family. Besides, who does he think he is? A nobody. His words should not hold any value to her because he is an uncultured caveman- or cavemale who is and will always be below her. She will find a way and go to her world and be happy again and and...and forget him and...all of his cruel words that...felt like 5 different sharp knifes being stabbed into her chest.

What was this pain? She is not a coward. How can he so easily judge her without even knowing her? This pain felt too real. Not even Azriels words hurt this much.

But she did not cry. She stopped crying that the day she killed him in the forest. And so, as she stared at his closed door, she knew what to do.

Y/N ran back to her room, furiously slamming the door shut behind her. She paced for a few moments, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within her chest. After waiting for what felt like an eternity to ensure no one would disturb her, she moved swiftly near her bed where a loose floorboard awaited her touch. With practiced hands, she pried it open, revealing the passageway.

Before she descended, she retrieved the large sharp needle she had been carrying with herself for the past few days, along with a small lamp that emitted a soft, comforting light. Tucking these essentials securely into the folds of her cloak, Y/N steeled herself for what lay ahead and descended the narrow stairs that led into the depths below.

How many stairs were there? It seemed endless, the damp smell growing stronger with each step she took. The walls around her were slick with moisture, echoing faint drips of water that added to the oppressive atmosphere. Y/N's grip tightened on the needle, her knuckles turning white as she navigated the dimly lit passage. She tucked her wings as close to her as possible.

The air grew colder as she descended further, the silence broken only by the sound of her own footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Shadows flickered ominously, playing tricks on her weary mind. Despite the discomfort and the ominous surroundings, Y/N pressed on, driven by a determination fueled by both fear and necessity.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of descending into the bowels of the earth, Y/N reached a small landing. In front of her, was some sort of a large circular entryway that was made out of earth and rock.

She slowly got closer to it while also inspecting the area. There was nothing else but this entryway before her. The rest of the space was made out of rock. When she reached it, the touched her hand on to it but...how do you get through this thing?

She knew this was a circular door of some sorts because there were cracks around it. But how does one even move a thing so large and heavy?

As Y/N stood before the large entryway, carved from earth and rock, she couldn't help but marvel at its craftsmanship and wonder about its purpose. The door, if it could be called that, seemed seamlessly integrated into the natural stone surroundings, its surface adorned with intricate runes and symbols that glowed faintly in response to her touch.

She traced her fingers along the cracks that outlined the circular shape, feeling the cool, smooth texture of the ancient stone beneath her fingertips. The door appeared solid and formidable, its size and weight suggesting it would require tremendous force to move.

Taking a step back, Y/N surveyed the area around her. The chamber was quiet, save for the faint echoes of her own breathing. The walls were smooth and unyielding, offering no clues as to how the door might be opened. She glanced down at the large sharp needle she had brought with her, contemplating its use.

With a deep breath, Y/N approached the door once more, this time examining the runes and symbols more closely. They seemed to pulse with a subtle energy, responding to her presence in ways she couldn't quite understand. She recalled stories of ancient magic and hidden passages, wondering if this door held the key to unlocking secrets long forgotten.

As she pondered her next move, a soft rumbling sound echoed through the chamber, causing her to startle. The ground beneath her feet trembled slightly, and she realized with a mix of awe and trepidation that the door was responding to her presence.

A low, melodic hum filled the air as the runes on the door shimmered brighter. Y/N took a cautious step back as the massive stone panels of the door began to shift, grinding against each other with ancient mechanisms coming to life. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the circular entryway began to slide.

Heart racing with anticipation, Y/N watched in awe as the door moved, revealing a narrow opening beyond. The air around her seemed to crackle with magic, a tangible presence that beckoned her forward.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, the door came to a stop, revealing another narrow and dark passage. She sighed, but surged forward as she went through the door into the darkness beyond.

After about 10 minutes, she came to a clearing and dear Mother....this place...whatever it was....was gorgeous. It was a huge opening but what made it so breathtaking were the millions of glowing crystals. The ground, the floor and the walls were all covered in luminescent crystals of all colors, and shapes, each it seemed, with a unique magical property. Some crystals glow softly, illuminating the way, while others emit melodies that resonate through the air.

There were little waterfalls that created small, narrow lakes passing through the crystals. There was even a medium sized pond that was glowing, maybe it also had crystals underneath. When she turned around, it looked as if she came out of a mountains cave.

This place was gorgeous! Did anyone else know of it? She did not know but what she did know was that y/n needed to explore further. She stepped on the ground and the crystals did not even hurt her feet.

There were large ones, tall ones, so tall that she could see her whole body on it. The calming sounds coming from them made her feel so relaxed. Did this place offer some kind of healing properties? Because y/n surely forgot all her mixed emotions and pain the second she landed here. The air was also so fresh and clean and yet, it also carried a maicel scent with it.

As she walked, she came across another small passage but this one was illuminated by thousands of tiny glowing, white crystals. She followed the light to see what this road held.

As she walked through the illuminated passage of glowing crystals, Y/n's curiosity mingled with a growing sense of unease. The ethereal light seemed to lead her forward, drawing her deeper into the unknown. Each step echoed softly against the crystal-lined walls, creating an eerie yet mesmerizing atmosphere.

Finally, the passage opened into a small clearing bathed in a gentle, radiant glow. Y/n blinked, trying to make sense of what lay before her. There, amidst the soft luminescence, stood a mirror unlike any she had ever seen.

Wait. Was this thing like the Ouroboros? The Mirror of Beginnings and Endings? Does this also show you your true self or something like that? What if it shows you your future?

Well it must do something special since it is hidden here.

However, she was not expecting what happened after she came closer to the mirror.

Y/n fell to her knees in shock.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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#azriel #acotar #fenrys moonbeam #illyrian #throne of glass #bookish #fanfics #fantasy #fenrys x reader #sarah j. maas #elide lochan #aelin ashryver galathynius #chaol westfall #yrene towers #lorcan salvaterre #rowan whitethorn #lysandra ashryver #aedion ashryver #maasverse

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shyvioletcat · 1 year

Text

AELIN WEEK: DAY ONE

~ Beltane ~

Happy Aelin week everyone! I know it’s late but that’s kinda my thing. I hope you enjoy this and don’t forget to check out @rowaelinscourt for more.

~~~~~

Aelin sat in front of her mirror, finishing up the minor touches to her hair and face. Lysandra had been helping her prepare for tonight—weaving braids through her golden hair, setting the crown atop them, applying cosmetics to her face. It had been months since Aelin had made a public appearance outside of council meetings and smaller responsibilities she could manage around the castle. The early months of pregnancy had taken its toll, and that was all too clear from the paleness of her face and the slight pinch to her features. Tonight she needed to look the part of a regal, resplendent Queen, and examining herself in the mirror she agreed that she looked the part.

The near constant nausea and exhaustion had forced Aelin to slow down, become less involved, much to the delight of her fussing mate. He had always claimed that she did too much and she had needed to take a step back. But tonight… This was her night. Always had been.

Beltane belonged to Aelin of the Wildfire.

Satisfied with her appearance Aelin gave her reflection a smile and stood, smoothing out the swathes of fabric of the dress she had chosen for tonight. With light layers of reds and oranges, and gold thread woven throughout, she looked like a living flame herself. There were thin drapes of fabric that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. The neckline might have been more modest than she would have liked, but it was still elegant and was shown off by the hairstyle that kept all her hair off her neck to combat the early summer heat. At that moment Rowan stepped back into the bedroom, he had been doing gods knew what while she had readied herself. He was dressed in his finest too, his colours less ostentatious though, favouring greys and dark greens like he always did. It didn’t make him any less handsome.

Rowan had been fiddling with his cuff as he walked into the room, that button or loose thread keeping his attention while Aelin waited for him to notice her. She knew he would appreciate the effort she had gone into her presentation tonight, it was all she could think about while Lysandra had fluttered around her. Once the excitement and joy over the pregnancy had somewhat faded, and the strain on her body had set in, Aelin had struggled to feel like herself. It had been weeks of feeling less than of who she desired to be and like a stranger in her own body. But in this moment she was an image of herself she could at least somewhat recognise. The part of her that delighted in teasing him had certainly reawakened and was waiting for the opportunity to see his reaction. Her impatience almost had her clearing her throat to get him to shift his attention.

“Fireheart, I—”

Aelin had rendered him speechless, after ten years she could still steal the air from his lungs without the need of the wind magic he favoured. Rowan’s assessing eyes ran over her, from head to toe, and Aelin watched as they softened. She had indeed caught his attention, noting how his gaze lingered on her middle.

“You and I both know that there is next to nothing there,” Aelin said, her hands running over her stomach.

She wasn’t showing, not yet. Besides a tightness on her stomach that Rowan had been the one to point out, Aelin didn’t visibly look pregnant. The dress however had been cut to accentuate what might be there. With the waistline set just under her bust and a split of darker fabric over the lighter with a small gathering in the centre, it made it look like there was more of swell than there was.

“Aelin,” her name was said with a reverence. “You look beautiful.”

The smile that appeared on her face only ever came to her when she was with Rowan. There was an uncharacteristic shyness to it, something only he managed to bring out in her.

“You would say that, our child had bewitched you,” Aelin said, a hand fiddling the dress at her shoulder.

Rowan stalked towards her, not denying her words. When he reached her, he ran his hands all the way up her bare arms to cup her face. It was hard to miss the look of pure adoration he was giving her.

“Can I kiss you, or do I have to wait until after your big moment?”

As much as she wanted it, Aelin knew that a kiss from her husband would ruin all Lysandra’s hard work. This kiss would have to be cautious—an attribute neither of them were known for.

“You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid,” Aelin conceded.

“I can wait,” Rowan assured her. He stepped back, but his touch lingered, now resting on her stomach. “I do love this dress.”

Aelin rested her hand over his, pushing it flatter against her. “I thought you might.”

There was sharp and precise knocking on their bedroom door, an announcement and a warning. It was a brave person who approached the royal bedroom without invitation. There were only a few daring enough to do so.

“It’s time,” Aedion called, and then he stepped through the door. “Oh good, you’re still dressed.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, picking up her skirts. “Your lady wife would be most upset if I ruined all her hard work.”

“She immediately had to wrangle Rue into a tense compliance, so you would be right,” Aedion explained, holding the door like he was ushering them out. Like if he did not they would stay in that room and find something else to do. It wouldn’t be the first time they would need a chaperone to keep them on task.

But not tonight, Aelin was more than committed to performing her queenly duty and didn’t need encouragement. She took Rowan’s hand and led the way through the castle.

The Beltane festivities would take place in the courtyard at the base of the castle steps. The gates would be open and the people of the city could celebrate around the fires and alters that had been prepared. Aelin would address them and commence the festivities, using her magic to do so. They would also officially announce the pregnancy to her people, her country—to the world. The prospect was both exciting and mildly terrifying. Rumours had spread, of course, but without an official declaration they had been able to enjoy these early months or relative privacy. Aelin was not ignorant of possibilities the revelation of an heir might bring. Maeve’s words still often rang in her ears.

More than that, the death of her parents still left scars. It had shown Aelin in the cruellest way that in their world no one was untouchable. And announcing their vulnerabilities might invite unwanted attention from the wrong people. What gave her comfort was not only her own powers, but the force and dedication of her inner court who would give anything to protect what was dear to them, as this child would be. Aelin shook her head to clear such thoughts, a night of celebration was no such time to dwell on something like this.

“Aelin,” Rowan said softly, no doubt noticing the shift in her demeanour due to her dark thoughts. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, Buzzard. I’m fine,” Aelin assured him, holding onto his arm to bring them closer together. “My mind just ran away from me, that’s all.”

“Are you sure? Because we can—”

Aelin’s laughter cut him off. “You would like nothing more that to hole ourselves up in our bedroom and ignore the world outside

Rowan gave her the barest hint of a smile. “You say that like it’s a bad idea.”

“Not bad, just mistimed,” Aelin said. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

Aelin didn’t allow herself to see his reaction, because whether it was a smirk or a soft growl, it might just convince her to go back upstairs and follow through with his idea. And they were nearly at the front gates. Seeing her court gathered there brought a smile to Aelin’s face. Lysandra and Aedion were indeed trying to contain the whirlwind that was their son, and the Lochan family were in their own little huddle. Lorcan held their son, Korbin’s hand weaving through his father’s hair. Fenrys was there as well conversing with Evangeline, making her smile. This was Aelin’s family—they had been through all the hells imaginable and made it through to meet each other on the other side. By next Beltane there would be another member to join in the celebrations.

That thought did have her turning to her mate as scenes of their tiny child playing around the firelight filled her mind. Rowan would hold their child safe in his arms, their faces aglow as he smiled at her. It was so clear, so attainable, it made Aelin giddy. Her hand rested on her stomach and the promise that lay there.

“Are we ready?” Aelin announced to the group.

“Are you?” Elide asked. “We only have to stand there and look pretty.”

“I was under the impression that our appealing features were the only reason you accepted us into this court, your Majesty,” Fenrys quipped. “Lorcan the exception of course.”

“We keep him around for his sense of humour, don’t we?” Aelin taunted. That was met it’s a single scowl and plenty of laughter.

Aelin went to step through the doors, her court behind her, her mate by her side. It took one look at Rowan for him to know what she needed just a little and he lent down and pressed a careful kiss to her cheek. That was all the bolstering she needed as she pushed on the heavy wooden doors.

Outside it was loud, voices of what might have been hundreds of people milling around the courtyard. Aelin would stand above them at the top of the stairs, a small pile of wood beside her to mimic the larger ones in the courtyard. When stepped forward into the view of everyone a cheer went through the crowd and she knew what they saw. The way her hands cradled her stomach accentuated it.

“Good people of Orynth,” Aelin projected her voice as much as she could, to reach as many people as he could. “Tonight we celebrate Beltane, to bring blessing and luck to our harvests, to start the seasons anew. These fires will purify and bring life to our fair country. I invite you to place your offerings, seek the blessing you wish for in your heart, and I hope like mine, they come to fruition.” For Aelin this time in her life represented a conciliation of the old and the new, a new beginning. A fitting symbol for Beltane, especially how close fertility was associated with these festivities. Aelin glanced down at her stomach and Rowan took his place by her side. When she looked out to her people she was smiling. “And I am delighted to announce a bright light for our future. I am with child, Terrasen will have an heir and I promise to raise them to love, honour and respect according to what our fair country deserves. I hope that you will join me in celebrating this joyous announcement tonight.”

They’d take her fire back to their homes.

Rowan's hand tightened on her waist as the cheering got louder. Aelin’s own hand became wreathed in flame and it took half a thought to light the half a dozen bonfires. Shouts of excitement went up and warmth bloomed in her chest. These people would take her fire back to their homes, to warm their hearths and sustain them. It served as a promise that Aelin would provide for them as long as that was within her power. It felt so natural to turn into Rowan’s embrace and for him to pull her closer. And even though the city of Orynth looked on, he kissed her. The world fell away in that moment as the hopes for their future burned as bright as the flames below.

~~~~~

They had retreated to an inner, more secluded courtyard for a private celebration. A large fire burned in the centre of it and there was a smaller one for jumping. After lighting both, Aelin had taken time to sit, eat and drink before she joined in the festivities. Rowan made sure she had everything she needed, his fussiness kicking in after she had confessed that she was hungry. She was full now and ready to join in the dancing. Searching for her chosen partner, she found that Rowan had the small boys over by the food table, one hanging from each arm. It was an endearing sight, and she’d let them play.

Aelin left her seat and had barely made it three steps when Fenrys appeared in front of her, hand extended as he gave her a courtly bow. “Would you like to dance?”

Aelin returned the gesture with a short curtsy. “Indeed I would.”

Taking the fae male’s hand and the invitation, Aelin smiled. Fenrys spun her into the firelight, leading her through the steps of the dance. Almost immediately the dress became a nuisance and Aelin paused to regrettably and carefully singe off the last few inches of it so that the length wouldn’t hinder her movements. She had no desire to cut her evening short by tripping over or twisting her ankle.

Fenrys was an excellent partner, and she was almost sorry to leave him when the dance changed and Aelin spun on. Aedion was a little less enthusiastic but she wouldn’t hold that against him. He was more warrior than courtier—always had been. So Aelin circled around the fire, her magic unwittingly reaching out to the flames and making them dance as well. It wasn’t until her feet started to hurt and she felt a little breathless that her mate appeared, intercepting her spin before she could meet whichever partner was next. He immediately slowed the tempo of her movements, bringing her in closer to support some of her weight.

“Rowan,” she chastised.

“Fireheart, you’re going to trip going that fast,” he said softly, even though Aelin could feel the concern pounding through him.

Aelin held in her snort of laughter. “No one was going to let that happen. I even shortened my dress as a preventative measure.”

Rowan actually stepped back to inspect her work, satisfied it was enough he pulled her back into his space. “You’ll tire yourself out.”

“I deserve to. I’ve been cooped up too long,” Aelin bemoaned—still not admitting that the pace he’d set was exactly what she needed. “You fuss too much.”

“I know,” he added with sincere honesty and utterly shameless.

“Dance with me, please,” Aelin asked.

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “I am dancing with you.”

“Really dance with me,” Aelin was nearly pleading. “And then I’ll sit down and rest for a while. I promise.”

“I’m powerless to deny you,” was his answer.

The fiddles and the drums played a steady beat, guiding them through step by step. This time Aelin kept her partner, Rowan’s hand was on her waist and the other clasped her’s. Memories of their first Beltane together rose and Aelin wondered what might have happened if the burnout had not consumed her. Would Rowan have stayed or flown back to his room? Could she have convinced him to jump the fires with her? Or would he have left her to celebrate on her own? Aelin laughed to herself when she realised that might be the likeliest answer. He would have brooded the night away in the shadows while she spent her night by the warmth of the fire, then returned to her cold room.

“What is so funny, love?” Rowan asked.

“Just remembering how grumpy you were when we first met,” Aelin said, teasing her mate. “More than ten years and it still astounds me.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed playfully, any ire lost when his lips twisted upwards. “Was I to blame?”

“I suppose not,” Aelin agreed.

“What else were you thinking about?” Rowan urged brushing his lips over her temple.

Aelin melted just that little more into him. “Hmm, just the past.”

“And?” He pressed. “Tell me?”

“I was thinking back to our first, and very eventful, Beltane,” Aelin confessed. “And I was wondering what might have happened if the burnout did not happen.”

“Oh, I see.”

This time it was Aelin who slowed them down. “What would you have done?”

“I would have stayed,” Rowan said.

Aelin started grinning. “Would you have danced with me?”

With all the utter seriousness only a three hundred year old immortal fae could muster Rowan said, “Absolutely not.”

Aelin’s laughter rang throughout the courtyard as Rowan spun her, the song ending just as she was enveloped in his arms again. They stood there even as another song started and Rowan cupped her face, kissing her sweetly.

“Is that enough dancing for now?” Rowan asked.

Aelin caught the underlying meaning of his words. I think it’s time to rest. And this time he may have been right.

“Yes, I think so.” She ignored the small look of triumph on Rowan’s face.

Rowan led the way to the chairs on the edges of the gathering and then promptly left to get her a drink. In the meantime Ruben and Korbin ran up to her, their faces delighted and covered in soot.

“And what can I do for you, little lords?” Aelin asked.

“We want to jump the fire!” Ruben said. “Can we? Can you?”

“Of course I can,” Aelin replied, resting a hand on each of their heads. “Are you ready?”

The two boys nodded, thrumming with excitement. Not too far away Aelin willed a fire to appear, small with heatless flames to keep the children safe. Korbin was first, taking a run up that did almost nothing to increase his height over the fire. Ruben wasn’t too far behind, whooping for joy as the flames tickled his feet. Over and over the two boys jumped, Aelin making the embers dance around them.

Her power thrived, her joy and her magic becoming one in the same. The thing Aelin had once most feared was now celebrated and accepted. What she had fought for and dreamed of had come to be. The babe growing within her was part of that, and her greatest joy of all.

“Aelin,” the sighing chastisement came from beside her and she knew she would see the long suffering face of her mate.

She gave him a look of innocence. “Yes, dearest husband.”

“You said you would rest,” he told her.

“This little fire is nothing,” Aelin said with a twist of her hand that had the flame moving the same way. “How could I say no to them?”

Just then the two boys jumped at the same time, hand in hand. Rowan didn’t say anything more as he handed a drink over, his eyes lingering on the children. He was no doubt imagining what she did, a small silver-headed child between them, laughing as they too made the jump for good luck.

“Just a little while longer, I promise,” Aelin said as she tugged on Rowan’s hand to bring him down into the seat beside her.

“Of course, Fireheart.” Rowan sat, the two of them happy to just observe for a while.

In the end, it took the children being collected by their parents before Aelin let the flames go. Lady and Lord Lochan retired to their rooms for the evening. Aedion led his family back to the fire for another dance. For a while longer Aelin was content to stay where she was and just watch. The heat of the day was gone and the flames provided a comfortable warmth to her bared skin. Aelin’s hand dragged comfortingly over her stomach. The motion was soothing and was guiding her exhaustion to the surface. But she didn’t want to retire for the night, not just yet.

“One more dance?” Rowan had all but read her thoughts.

Aelin just nodded, letting Rowan pull her from her seat. The music had slowed now, it was no longer the frenzied melodies that urged quick steps and reckless movements. Rowan spun her in a slow circle, but quick enough that the skirts of her dress fluttered about her feet. Aelin draped her arms around his neck, and his hands found a place low on her hips.

They did little more than sway to the music, foreheads pressed together. For just a little while longer Aelin wanted to bask in the warmth of the firelight and the perfection that this moment held.

~~~~

#aelinweek #throne of glass fanfiction #I don't have time to tag now so I'll tag in the morning so sorry if you get doubled up

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goddess-aelin · 1 year

Text

Antics

Made for Rowaelin Month Day 20: Drunken antics

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: drinking, drunkenness

It all began when Rowan insisted Aelin needed a night out, something he absolutely should not have done. She had been working so hard in the year since the war, never taking a day off and doing her best to attend to the needs of every single resident of Terrasen. Until yesterday, when she almost half collapsed from exhaustion.

Rowan took it upon himself while she was resting to cancel all of her meetings for the following two days and adamantly insisted that Lord Darrow not speak to her the entire time. The latter alone would make her feel loads better.

All the while, Rowan played the part of doting husband. To anyone else, it just looked like he was taking care of his sick wife. But to those of fae heritage, he knew they could see the thin rope he was dangling from, fae instincts riding him hard, just moments away from stabbing someone if they even dared to come near his mate.

But that was okay, Rowan thought, since he got to lounge in bed with his mate all day. To his surprise, Aelin didn’t put up that much of a fuss about not working, something that was actually very concerning to him. When he said as much, she simply said that she’d rather be spending the day with her handsome yet overbearing mate than a bunch of stuffy old men. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve taken that as a compliment or not.

Once the end of the first day rolled around, Aelin was itching for something to do, he could tell. She had already read through the stack of books that he brought her and snacked away on enough cake that even she said she couldn’t possibly eat any more. And that was when Rowan decided it was time for a night out, just the two of them.

He knew that if they left through the front door, the guards would insist upon accompanying them, Aedion and Darrow would berate them otherwise. But Rowan didn’t want that. He wanted it to be just the two of them, a date of sorts. He could also tell that Aelin’s eyes lit up when he mentioned sneaking out of the castle, handing her a dark cloak and telling her they were going on an adventure. An adventure which ended with them in a fairly run-down bar, drinking the night away.

Rowan had a fairly high tolerance for alcohol so by the end of the night, he was barely tipsy. Aelin, on the other hand, not so much. If anyone would ever mention it to her, she would deny it to her last breath, but Aelin was a lightweight. And this delighted Rowan. Very, very, much. His Fireheart didn’t get to be the carefree young woman she was almost ever, so if he could give her this small slice of fun, of what life would have been like without a war, then his job was done.

And this was how he found himself half-walking, half-carrying the almost dead weight of his mate up the dusty road to the castle. There was absolutely no sneaking back in in their state, his large form supporting the stumbling and babbling Queen. Aelin typically had a lot to say on a normal day and when she was drunk? It was like a floodgate was opened into her brain. Anything she thought would make its way out of her mouth at some point, no matter the content. Rowan loved it. He loved her.

“You’re such a han-some buzzard. Di’you know that?”

With amusement, he nodded his head. “Only because you’ve told me 20 other times tonight.”

“Psh, I’m jus speakin the trusth.”

“Mmhm. And you, my love, are very, very drunk.”

Her contentment quickly turned into dramatic outrage. “No! No, I’m not! You’re the one who’sh dru–.” The statement was quickly ended by a stumble.

“See?” Rowan looked pointedly at her.

“Shut up, Buzzard. Jus’ carry me, damnit.”

“If I carry you, though, you’re going to fall asleep. And before you do that, we absolutely need to get some food into you. Otherwise, you’re going to wake up and regret every decision you made tonight.”

Aelin stopped walking and crossed her arms. “Hmmph. You’re a mean buzzard. You’re not my mate ‘nymore.”

Rowan chuckled at her grumpy expression. “I’m not sure that’s quite how this works but, sure.” He started walking away, knowing that as soon as he did, she would try to follow.

And follow she did, albeit crookedly and looking like a baby fawn who just found their legs. Abruptly, she stopped and stomped her foot. “Why can’t you just carry me?”

“If I carry you, are you going to fall asleep?”

She kicked her foot through the dirt guiltily. “No.”

He chuckled and walked closer to her. “Fine, I’ll carry you.”

A smile lit up her face and she stretched her arms out to the side to embrace him. But Rowan had other ideas to carry her, bending down and hauling her over his shoulder, her hair falling down his back and her ass in his face.

“Hey!! Put me downnn!” Aelin’s voice was a screech in his ear, probably loud enough to wake up the entire city, though definitely loud enough to catch the attention of the guards standing by the palace gates.

“Hey! You there!” Both guards turned toward Rowan, spears pointed. Rowan quickly pulled his hood back, revealing the silvery hair only a few in the entire world had.

“Your Majesty! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was you!” The poor guard looked frightened, probably ready to throw up at the prospect of what punishment he’d get for pointing a spear at the King and Queen. “Is she…is she okay?”

“No worries. She’s fine, just dramatic.”

“Hey!” she cried.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, I have to get this one,” he lifted the shoulder that Aelin was flung over, “back to the castle before she wakes up the entire city.” Indeed, Aelin was now jauntily singing a sailors tune, her voice loud enough over the unsavory parts to make the younger guard blush a deep tomato red. Both of the guards simply nodded and cleared the way for Rowan to enter.

“Hey where’r we goin?” Their path to the kitchens, at least, stopped Aelin from singing long enough to give his ears a tiny, much needed break.

“To the kitchens, remember? You need food.”

“Nooooooo, I sleep!” She started wiggling violently, causing Rowan to almost drop her when trying to set her down. He huffed a laugh. If he knew taking care of drunk Aelin would’ve been like taking care of a child, he never would’ve suggested a night out.

Who was he kidding, he’d deal with anything his Fireheart threw his way if it meant she was happy.

He took her hand, trying to pull her toward the kitchen, enticing her by naming all of her favorite foods. She tugged back with a surprising strength for someone who was heavily intoxicated.

“No, I sleep!”

“You need food, Fireheart.”

She put her finger to his lips, “Shhhh.” With surprising dexterity, she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. “No food, only sleep.”

He chuckled, once again trying to get her to relent. But unfortunately, drunk Aelin was just as stubborn as sober Aelin. “You will regret it tomorrow morning if you don’t get some food in your stomach.”

He felt rather than heard Aelin’s scoff. “Sleep is food. I sleep.” He could tell by the pauses between words that she was just seconds away from falling asleep on his shoulder. “Dream of meat. Meat on a stick!” Her laughter was maniacal. Yet a few seconds after it began, it abruptly stopped and he could hear her breathing even out.

Rowan let out a sigh. Looks like he wasn’t getting her to eat something tonight. Gently, he maneuvered her so he was carrying her in his arms again, this time bridal-style. She settled in, nuzzling his shoulder and curling her hands between their chests. The sight was so cute it almost made him stop in his tracks. He settled for a gentle kiss on her forehead and made his way back up to their suite.

To Rowan’s dismay, Aelin woke up before him the next morning, fit as a fiddle and ready to start her day. Rowan, on the other hand, had a splitting headache. Though it hurt, he just shook his head with a smile and was grateful that his Fireheart was happy.

A/N: I had at least two other fics before this that I was planning on writing but didn’t get to do keep an eye out!

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wordsafterhours · 5 months

Text

Songs About You - Chapter 17

Author's Note: Hello all! I'm sorry if this chapter sucks. I'm not sure who is even around to read this story anymore since it has been so drug out. I did my best to give birth to the idea of this chapter that I had in my head. As always, feedback, comments, and likes are food for the soul.

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist

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It seemed anxiety, bordering on near panic, was going to become a constant state of being for Aelin. Gone was the self-assured, cool, confident, and collected woman of the past. Everything she had been, known, hoped, wanted… it all seemed painfully stuck in the past, as unmovable of the mountain peaks surrounding the city.

Perhaps if therapy had been attended, as suggested by a multitude of her friends on more than one occasion, the necessary tools to address how she was feeling would be handily available. In her toolkit. Having to endure needles in her eyes sounded more preferable than attending therapy, so naturally, she had not gone, preferring to shoulder her emotional baggage.

The emotional turmoil of today was stemming from her reluctantly agreed upon dinner at Rowan’s cabin. It had been the price to pay for his visit to her the book shop yesterday. The smart part of her brain screamed no, but a too quick “yes” produced by her messy heart had passed over her lips instead. And it was an answer she’d give and give again just to see the smile that had graced his handsome face, setting his green eyes alight with joy. When this ended, because she knew it would, there was no doubt in her mind, that she would be the proverbial cannon fodder of this situation.

Wincing as she hit a particularly rough pothole, Aelin made a large mental note to chastise Rowan for it. The winter season had only worsened the already shit road and SUV be damned, it didn’t seem to make it any more bearable. Fleetfoot shifted her footing in the passenger seat, glancing over, giving a judgmental look.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault this road isn’t maintained,” she muttered in contempt.

Lucky for both the golden-haired girls, the A-frame cabin was soon in few, lit by beautiful glass bulbs strung from tree to trees. While his house wasn’t her style, much preferring luxury and the things accustomed with the that lifestyle, there was something perfect about the view she had now. It was quieter than even where she lived. And if possible, it seemed more stars could be seen winking in the sky. The light blues and purple of dusk were fading away into dark blues and black as the sun continued its decent below the horizon.

Cutting the engine, Aelin sat a moment, taking in two large breaths and talked herself down from the anxiety that was clawing violently up her throat. There was no reason to be nervous, not really, if you got past the fact she was spending another evening in his presence, in the home that would one day house his family…

Fine. Everything was perfectly fine. That was the mantra that would headline the forefront of her mind tonight—it had to be. The alternative distressingly cruel.

“Let’s go, girl.” Fleetfoot didn’t need to be told twice, bounding over her lap and out the car door, rounding the corner of the house before her feet had even touched the pine needle ground.

“Well, someone was eager,” she grumbled under her breath as she followed the same path the dog had taken. The backdoor was open, spilling added light across the porch and grass. Chairs circled a firepit that had already had a crackling fire within it. Blankets hung on the back of two chairs. Her mouth watered as a small breeze kissed her skin, bringing with it the smell of garlic and a little spice. The silver haired man had refused to tell her what they were doing, other than he was making her dinner, which he also decided to withhold what it was they would be eating.

Gently, she knocked against the door trim before walking in. Rowan gave her a smile as he lowered a wooden spoon down from his lips and set it down on the counter. “Couldn’t wait for a taste?”

“A cook always has to sample the dish before serving it to others. I wouldn’t want feed you something terrible.”

“My refined palate appreciates that.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, but the small laugh let her know he knew she was just being difficult. She took a seat at the bar top that overlooked the stove. The meal looked simple but it smelled divine, especially with her sitting almost directly over it. “Are you going to tell me what’s on the menu now that I’m here?”

“You’re insufferable sometimes. I hope you realize that,” he answered, flicking her nose.

“I’m wonderful, thank you very much. The only intolerable one here is you.”

“Keep it up and I’ll give the dogs your plate and your part of the dessert.” His face was straight, no slight tick in his jaw or arch of a brow to tell if he was kidding. The discarded spoon was picked back up and used to stir whatever sauce was simmering on the stove top.

Worrying her lip, Aelin said nothing but continued to watch him mill about the kitchen. He flicked off the burners and bent down, giving her a better view of the kitchen. It was like a beacon in the dark, the small image pinned to the fridge with a magnet, that immediately ensnared her wandering gaze. A heavy unease settled in the pit of her stomach the longer she stared at the photo. His tall frame appeared back in her view, but he might as well have been invisible because she just kept staring—a very tangible feeling of nauseousness working up her throat.

Rowan was going to be a father to a baby that would be here before they both knew it. And he would be filling his spare time with raising him or her. Cooking meals in this very kitchen and coming home to someone who Aelin couldn’t stand. Until now, a small part of her had been delusional, quietly whispering that he would still have time for her when it came down to it. But he wouldn’t. This man would be all in for that life that hung proudly against the silver fridge face.

In the haze of her tunnel vision, she had missed him moving until he was turning the stool and pulling her against warm, muscled chest. His heart was thrumming erratically against her ear. This man was far from dumb and likely knew just the reason for her terror-struck silence. “Aelin,” his voiced pleaded against the crown of her head.

“What are we doing Ro?” she cried into him.

“We’re having dinner.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Aelin declared, shoving her palms against his stomach in a paltry attempt to put distance between them. He gripped her harder, snuffing out the hope for any separation.

“Rowan, let me go,” she begged, the words vibrating against them both.

“I can’t, Fireheart.”

“Rowan, there’s a baby on your fridge. Your baby. It’s growing and some months from now, it’s going to be more than just a black and white decoration to look at.” He was lying to himself if he thought he could keeping living his life like this and it broke her heart because he didn’t seem to have an iota about it.

“Aelin, you don’t think I know that?” he barked angrily, stepping back and bumping into another stool. It’s high-pitched squeal making her look up at him. Loosing a frustrated breath, his green eyes weighed heavily on her.

“I can’t change that. I know I’m going to be a dad and it wasn’t how I thought my journey to fatherhood would go, but I know more than anyone, that July is going to bring so many changes. So don’t sit there and preach at me about that stupid black and white photo. I didn’t even put it up there. Lyria did. It’s from when she first found out and it’s a blob. It doesn’t even look like a baby.”

From her vantagepoint, it looked like a potato. Gods, likening a baby to a potato was surely going to get her some gods-given karma down the line. Unsure of what to say to the passionate, yet angry monologue, Aelin elected silence.

“I’m scared out of my mind, but I’m excited, too. Some little human out there is going to call me dad. And I’m going to read poetry to them every night before they go to bed and take them hiking on Saturdays with my friends. I’m going to stroll the streets of downtown Orynth, telling them about a time when there used to be a queen and kind of this country, and how the opalescent buildings were an unheard-of masterpiece when they designed and built. I’m going to take them to Emrys’ and introduce cake when they’re old enough. And we’ll see you when we come to buy books because I want them to know 1,000 different lives. I have to make the most of what I’ve been dealt.”

Tears burned, falling for herself, and falling for the man at her front. Rowan loved that baby, and it was beautiful to see it. But the life he painted; it made her envious. What would a life like that, with him, be like? Would they fight about what book to read? What would be the first poem they would read to their child? Would he get the history just right having not grown up here? Would she have to correct him with a teasing smile?

“What if” was the most painful start to any self-harm idea her brain and heart could muster. What if she had met him a few months sooner? What if it had been her and not Lyria? What if Lyria hadn’t been pregnant at all?

What if. What if. What if.

Calloused thumbs swooped across the swell of her cheeks, wiping away the moisture sliding down. He tilted her head, catching her gaze with his. “There’s a limit to what I can give you, Aelin. I know that, but I’m trying to be here, for you. And if that’s enough for now, then let it be enough. And when it’s not, ask me again to let you go.”

It was appropriate to say while he cradled her in his hands—the declaration literal and figurative and a bittersweet understanding. She knew that whatever unspoken thing tying them together didn’t adhere to the constructs of reason or reality—it unapologetically existed. And for now, the small kernels of time and of himself that Rowan offered to her were enough.

However, they’d both be nothing but fools if they believed with any real hope that this would last beyond July. The gods didn’t cater to mortal whims, not even love or desire, despite what countless words penned in books tried to argue. Aelin knew this better than anyone having suffered unbelievably so in the face of the cards she had been dealt.

Before her parents had died, Arobynn betrayed everyone, and her uncle and cousins’ unwitting complicity in his schemes, her life had been one of unwavering love, joy, and happiness. Every day was not sunshine and roses, but there hadn’t been one thing she’d willingly change.

It occurred to her that she had not offered any sort of response to Rowan’s quiet plea apart from silence. With a rueful twitch of her pink lips, she said hardly audible, “Okay.” The two syllables tasted acerb against her tongue, but she’d utter them again and again if it meant he’d look at her the way he was now. With one last smooth stroke against the apples of her cheeks, he asked, “Are you hungry?”

Aelin gave an enthusiastic nod, which had him freeing her and returning to the other side of the counter, dishing out food onto two plates in a manner that could only be described as routine. A quick jerk of his head silently commanded her to follow him as he took their dinner outside. Once she was seated comfortably in one of the chairs surrounding the fire, did he pass her a plate and take his own seat.

The first few bites had her letting out a low moan that had no right appearing anywhere except within the confines of her bedroom—but damn the gods, she couldn’t help herself. Rowan sounded like he was semi-choking across from her and it made a small, feline smirk of delight grace her lips. There was power in the knowledge that she could and did fluster the man.

Deciding to spare him anymore discomfort, she mercifully kept her indecent sounds and thoughts to herself for the remainder of their dinner which fell into a pleasant, companionable silence. Gently, she discarded the plate on the ground beside her and leaned back into the chair, taking a sip from her beer, and looking up at the stars. Millions of tiny light balls gleamed back at her, some stark white, others hardly more than a dull glow.

“When I was a kid, my parents used to tell me that the stars were all the people that we’d lost looking down on us. It used to make me so upset because I thought it was ridiculous and at that point, I had already learned that they were balls of exploding gas. But as I got older and lost them, I came to the decision that their explanation was the only one I wanted to possess any conviction for. At the very least, it’s a far more beautiful sentiment than any scientific truth.”

Aelin refused to look anywhere but up, not wanting to see pity, understanding, comfort—anything in response to her confession. Vulnerability made her feel weak and broken and she’d shown Rowan more of herself in the months of their friendship than she’d shown must people in years. He was constantly disarming her; strategically knocking a stone loose from the wall she’d armed herself with and with the right move, it would irreparably crumble.

It was inevitable. It was coming. And she wasn’t ready yet… but she wanted to be. Living as a ghost of herself was exhausting and depressing and life was passing her by. Aelin had been a victim of life, of shitty circumstances, and had endured things some people could never imagine even on their worst day. There was more to go through, so much to face and work through, but in the perfect silence of this starlit night, it felt like her parents were by her side, reminding her they’d never left, not really.

“I wish someone would have told me stories like that,” his voice said a little gruff. Hesitantly, she flicked her blue and gold gaze his way, admiring how the firelight played off the sharp angles of his jaw. His green gaze was trained on the sky above as he continued. “I’m not sure if you’ve been to Doranelle but it’s so different from Orynth. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s the largest city east of Wendlyn or because it’s a main trade port for many routes, but it’s never quiet. Something is always going on.”

She’d been once, as a young teenager on holiday with her family, and if she thought hard enough about it, she could almost taste the spice-laden air and hear the vendors selling their wares along the winding, elegant streets. Beautiful pale stone buildings with blue tops and mosaic tiles decorating their walls stood out in her brain. And their palace with its jasmine-wrapped columns and stained glasses ceilings were such a stark contrast from Orynth’s own palace of shimmering opal walls.

“It wasn’t until I was older that I knew the sky held so many stars. The bright lights of the city in culmination with the pale stone buildings, rivers, and mist make it eerily bright all the time. The sun and moon obey the same laws there, but night never seems as dark as it ought to be. Not like here, where on a moonless night, you can’t see five feet in front you. It’s beautiful at home and I was privileged growing up there, but when I was able to see more of the world, I realized there were somethings more beautiful than others.”

His piercing green gaze dropped to hers and held as he said the last part. For someone who wasn’t entirely forthcoming and made it seem like sharing personal information was akin to pulling teeth sans anesthetic, Rowan was a born storyteller. Perhaps, it was because she was sweet on him, but she was more inclined to believe it was in the way he spoke about things. His accent grew thicker, voice lower, his body more relaxed, and green eyes a little brighter.

“I went one summer after I had turned fourteen or fifteen, I can’t quite remember. We traveled every summer for my belated birthday gift. My parents wanted me to be well-rounded and to know the world. That year, Gavriel and Aedion were able to come with us. We’d traveled before as a family but never that far, for that long. It felt nice to just be ourselves without constantly wondering if photographers and journalists were going to be writing about what we were wearing, or what restaurant we frequented, or what new bill my father or mother were trying to pass.”

She loosed a bitter chuckle and picked a little too angrily at her cuticles, causing one to bleed. Rowan’s large hand rested over hers, snuffing out the anxious tendency before she could cause more damage.

“Fireheart, what happened with your uncle and your cousin? I know Elide said they betrayed you, but I saw how your face lit up when you talked about them. It’s clear you miss them. Your parents aren’t here but from what I’ve gathered, they are. You don’t have to tell me. I can feel you stiffening under my hands and you’re holding your breath. Gods, I know it’s painful for you, but you don’t have to carry around those feelings by yourself. There are so many people in your corner who would be more than happy to shoulder some of that weight… You just have to stop holding on to it so tight.”

That wall of hers? Well, there went another stone or two as he laced their fingers together, his gentle but not subtle offer to bare her grief ringing loudly in her ears, as though he had shouted it for the heavens to hear. It wasn’t that her friends hadn’t offered their ears or shoulders before, because they all had, numerous times, but she’d been too devastated to let any ounce of control go. Then, came Rowan, no better than an avalanche bulldozing a mountain full of trees, decimating everything in its wake.

He pushed when she didn’t want to be pushed. Held her when she didn’t know that’s what she wanted. Listened to her fall apart and stayed anyways. He wasn’t perfect. He had hurt her and likely would hurt here more in the future, but in their skewed dynamic, he had given her room to breathe. In shouldering of all the messy, the bad, the dramatic—it had lessened that crippling burden she’d been carrying around for years to just enough to remind her that there was more to life than what she’d been accepting.

And for his gift, she would give him another ugly truth despite the possibility of it opening up an emotional chasm deeper than any fissure on this continent. “I didn’t know how corrupt Arobynn was. To me, in most everything before and for two years after the death of my parents, I just saw him as ‘Uncle A’, my godfather and dad’s best friend. Every holiday, family birthday, fancy gala—he was there. He was my rock after it all. Him and Aedion and Gavriel.”

Aelin shifted forward in her seat and adjusted their still laced fingers on her knee, not wanting to lose the grounding contact, but unable to bare his dark emerald gaze a second longer. It seemed childish to hide, but sometimes if felt like he could see into the very darkest parts of her soul, the ones she didn’t offer up or acknowledge, and that level of discomfort was threatening to flicker out the small tendril of courage she was gripping onto.

“I didn’t know the extent of their involvement in his seedy underground dealings until the middle of the trial. Gavriel was the chair of the historical and restoration department for the city, appointed by my mother. Nepotism at its finest, I know. He had his own construction company as well and Aedion grew up learning from him. After college, he took over more responsibility in the company, leaving Gavriel to devote more time to the public and political aspects of restoring the city. Little did I know then that their company built and restored many underground areas of the city. I think at first, they didn’t realize that they were paving the network that would feed into success of The Vaults, but it became very clear, later on, that they knew. They knew and they continued anyways.”

She gave a harsh chuckle, the notion of their part in the crime syndicate somehow still bitterly amusing years later. Only amusing because they’d let themselves be deceived in the face of overwhelming evidence. Hardly any of the evidence of their involvement had been presented at trial when the betrayal had cut through her like a hot blade. Aedion’s eyes, so like her own, had found her in the sea of people within that room, brimming with guilt and unshed tears. He had looked devastated.

But she had been devastated. And blind-sided. And betrayed. And hurt. And angry.

Again, she had been made a fool at the hands of those who supposedly cared for her. A public spectacle for all the court-goes to gawk at while she crumpled in the front row.

Absent-mindedly, she rubbed at her chest, a poor attempt to soothe the ghost of twinging pain. “I don’t know what Arobynn had over my uncle, but I know it had to have been something because why else would you help a criminal? Half the city’s tunnels existed when we still had a monarch. They deserved the chance to be restored and appreciated. The finished result though surpassed what was initially documented and planned but that didn’t come to light until the underground syndicate was dismantled. No one could figure out how criminals were thwarting law enforcement left and right and all along, the answer was right under their feet.”

“I hadn’t been here long when crime started to uptick. I got mugged outside my truck one night and it was like the guy disappeared into thin air. I tried to chase him but when I turned the corner, there was nothing but empty streets. Makes sense now,” he remarked in an acrimonious tone.

“Manholes, specific businesses, canals… everyone who belonged to the Vaults learned where and how they could use these tunnels to their advantages. Arobynn had his finger in everything from prostitution and drugs to street fighting and ordered hits. When you sit at the right hand of the country’s governor, you make a lot of connections, and he used every one of them to his advantage. My uncle and Aedion redid all the tunnels as my mother asked, but they built new ones seamlessly connected too, creating an intricate and unmarked web unless you knew where to look. Had it not helped Arobynn’s rise to power and criminal empire, I might be impressed.”

Feeling restless and angry, she abruptly stood from her chair and took a few steps back. The air around the fire too warm. Rowan’s hand too heavy. The feelings still too raw.

“I didn’t stay the rest of the day Aedion and Gavriel testified, and I ignored every attempt they made to explain themselves since. There was nothing they were going to say to me that could make their involvement any less painful. I know all the charges were dropped after they disclosed the tunnel maps and trade routes for product moving in and out of the city. I think I could have forgiven just the tunnels, in time, but Aedion was helping run the street fights and Gavriel knew what businesses were operating under the table. I just can’t help but think had they spoken up about Arobynn’s illegal dealings, he might not have had the network, power, or capital to have had my parents murdered.”

And there it was. The repulsive, dark truth that had been festering deep within the walls of her heart for years. Resentment and hate bitterly clamored up her throat as she bent over, hands braced on her thighs, gasping for air. Was she a monster for having no understanding, no compassion for her family? Was she wrong to blame them? Was she as cruel as Arobynn?

The world started to tip, black spots filling her vision as her knees buckled and the ground growing increasingly closer. Familiar muscle flushed against the side of her body, guiding her delicately down. “I don’t know much Fireheart, but there is no world in which you could ever compare to a man like that.”

One hand held firm against the crown of her head, keeping her upright, while the other ran long, soothing strokes down her back. Nothing else was said between them as they sat there. It could have been five minutes or two hours—Aelin wasn’t sure, but she thanked the gods for the still silence and for the friend she’d found in Rowan. Tonight, had been one of courage and candor, and she had faced it head on.

She had not yielded when her heart and head had been screaming otherwise. The world, her world was shifting. It was a dull throb somewhere in the depths of her bones, demanding to be felt, noticed.

Change was coming and she would no longer be afraid.

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@lunadorned @theresyourfireandblood @backtobl4ck @leiawritesstories @morganofthewildfire @rowaelinismyotp @jorjy-jo @theresyourfireandblood @numbers-colors-fashion @swankii-art-teacher @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @stardelia @astra-ad-mare

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cupidsarows · 28 days

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Cupid's Arrows: Hotel California

Cast:

Blaze-Black-Love To Hate

Otto-Yellow-Familial Love

Sylvia-Purple-Shallow Love

Ike-Green-Objective Love

Pheobe-Blue--Platonic Love

Rowan-Red-Romantic Love

Mr. C-Cupid

The old belief is that Cupid will strike you with an arrow to make you fall in love. These days due to scientific research, we know that love is actually caused by a complex chemical reaction in the brain…

Chapter One

Bonnie met John on the subway. She dropped her phone and he picked it up for her, a classic, romantic meet-cute. No one noticed the dull pink glow emitting from the phone and certainly no one noticed one of the passengers slipping out of the open subway doors and into the nearest bathroom. It is there that we meet Rowan, right now they are dressed in black leggings and a red turtleneck, his hair piled onto his head in sandy brown curls and he is also slightly glowing…?

Rowan rubs his eyes in the mirror but as the red flakes of his eyeshadow land in the sink, more pink flakes begin tomaterialize around him until he is surrounded.

Chapter Two

Rowan appears, not in the sky but in a plane that looks a lot like it. Vast, white marble floors extend as far as the eye can see interrupted by the occasional pillared temple opening onto the vast, cloudless sky. No longer wearing his turtleneck, Rowan has swapped it for a red tank top that shows off his lean, athletic figure.

“Hi Rowan!” exclaims a sweet young girl in a blue bow and frilly blue and white dress. “Come on, Mr. C’s already celebrating his big day!”

In one of the temples, on a fold up chair sits a devilishly handsome figure with sleek white hair pulled back into a stylish man bun. He is wearing Ray-bans and gold jewelry on top of his white ski jacket. His heavy black leather high tops are propped up on the long rectangular table and he was leaning so far back in his chair that Rowan is astonished that he hasn’t tipped over.

“Look who finally showed up! The rest of you were done ages ago…” Mr. C suddenly lurches forward in his chair, staring at Rowan over the top of his sunglasses with piercing gold eyes, like a hawk. “So? What took you so long?”

“It took a while but I can safely say that another couple is in love.

“ Ok? What about kids? Or pets? What happens if one of them gets hurt?”

“All due respect Mr. C, that’s not my job, my job is to make people fall truly, madly, deeply in love with each other.”

As Cupid scoffs a voice grows

“I’d have expected you to be happier on your ‘special day’ Cupid.”

“A pleasure to see you too darling '' Mr. C retorts as he rolls his eyes and resumes his chair leaning.

“I brought the others, ' Blaze growled again.

One by one the temple fills with dazzling people who take their seats at the table: a small child wearing yellow overalls, a woman with an hourglass body in a tight purple dress, a man wearing a green and dark green checkered suit and finally the girl in blue came bounding in cheerfully and began talking to the overalled boy.

“Everyone be quite and sit down, ”Commands Mr. C in a loud, strong voice. Blaze mutters something under his breath as he leans against a pillar, picking at his black ripped jeans.

“Ah Blaze, you always were a rather pointy arrow weren’t you? You may stay standing.

Moving on, as you all know today is my ‘special day’, Valentines Day. We celebrate every year and every year I am just so disappointed in all of you. Valentine's Day is about love, so why am I not feeling more love in the world? As my arrows you are a direct representation of my power. You should all be taking your jobs much more seriously than this. That’s all, you all have more important duties than partying. Just go to your rooms. I don’t even feel like celebrating anymore.”

Chapter Three

It’s about an hour later that Rowan is sitting on his soft bed in his rather luxurious room picking over a piece of ripe melon that he hears a ‘rap-tap-tap’. As he opened his door he is surprised to see Cupid standing there.

“Hey R, can I come in?” Not waiting for an answer, he brushes past Rowan onto the bedside and moves the melon to a spot on the carpet.

“I know you’re technically done for the day but do you think you could do something for me?”

“Anything,”

“I have one more thing for you to do. These two, they should fall in love.

Rowan takes the file that Cupid is holding out to him and flicks through it. “Look I totally would, it's just… well, to be honest neither of them are straight.” Cupid does not respond how Rowan hoped he would respond which was “Oh you're absolutely right Rowan, good catch!”

Instead, Cupid scoffs and says “Don’t be silly, R. You make romance bloom all the time. Surely you can do this.”

“No, I’m sorry. Everyone has a subconscious bias in who they love. All I do is bring it to the surface. While theoretically I could force two people in love, it would just fall apart.”

“Would you do it for me though?”

Rowan breaths a deep sigh. There had been a time when he had let his crush get the better of him and anything Cupid wanted was carried out. But Rowan had to be different. He couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted by Cupid, but he also couldn’t pretend that Cecilia even wanted a relationship or that Austin could ever love her the way he loved his coworker. It wasn’t right.

“I can’t do that Mr. C, maybe ask Pheobe or Owen.” Cupid suddenly gets up and walks to the doorway.

“I’m sorry you feel that way R. Goodnight.”

Cupid slams the door and Rowan lays back in his bed feeling strangely numb. He must’ve dozed off because when he wakes up, it’s morning and the woman in the purple dress is standing in his doorway.

Chapter Four

“Rowan? Why is Cupid going to earth with his bow?

Rowan jolts upright. “Sylvia what do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said, Cupid’s going to Earth and he says it’s your fault. Why?”

But Rowan is already running out the door to scan the nearby area for Cupid. It’s very hard to spot him because with his white ski jacket, Cupid blends in perfectly with the endless white floor. Rowan runs to where he knows there is an entrance to earth and there he sees Cupid preparing to step through the golden doorway.

“Mr.C! Wait!”

“Hmm? Come to apologize darling?

Rowan uses his body to block Cupid from the door, trying in a desperate attempt to make himself heard.

“Please stop Cupid. This isn’t right.”

Cupid sneers, his voice suddenly becoming malicious and cutting. “Oh, Romance, I should have done this a long time ago, but what a fool I was.”

Cupid turns his head up as if he can’t even look at Rowan and with a careless flick of his wrist, Rowan feels a force like a charging bull slamming into him, knocking him through the doorway and onto earth.

#writers on tumblr #original character #writing #cupids arrows

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aces-and-angels · 2 years

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Title: Lunch with Abel

A/N: Nothing but fluffy, blanket kicking goodness here. While I love where Abel x MC’s relationship is at right now, I am a sucker for the moments before they really fall for each other. This one right here is my favorite:

MC has known Abel for ONE evening, and they’re already seeking him out. Melts my heart. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy ❤❤❤

Pairing: Abel x MC (F!Rowan)

Summary: A bonus scene set sometime in chapter 5 of ILW by @itlivesproject; Abel treats Rowan to lunch

---

"Thanks for the help, Professor Flint!"

Rowan stiffened at the sound of his name, her stomach twisting in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Cautiously, she peeked up from her laptop. There he was, three rows over, waving at who she assumed to be one of his students. Stacks of paper were scattered on his table with a leather bag placed carelessly to the side. Her eyes were glued to the sleeve of his sweater, watching it ride up ever so slightly as he raised his arm, revealing the scars hidden underneath. A warmth spread throughout her chest as she remembered how soft his hand had felt in hers the night before. How empty hers was when he eventually pulled away.

With his back turned, she let herself stare, admiring the way his hair fell right above his broad shoulders. Her mind flooded with thoughts of her fingers carding through the long, dark strands. His head was resting in her lap, a content sigh falling from his lips as he relaxed into her touch. Then, he would slowly open his eyes, revealing the rich, deep brown color that she would happily get lost in. So lost that she could see herself moving in closer, his hand gently placed on the back of her neck as they-

"Rowan!" His friendly voice snapped her out of her fantasy. Shit. She tried ducking behind her laptop screen, but the damage was done. He had seen her. Unable to hide, she sent him a small wave. The bright smile he gave as he waved back sent her heart racing. If he had been put off from her staring, he didn’t show it. Instead, she anxiously watched him hastily gather his things to make his way over to her table. She held her breath as he settled in the seat next to her. “It’s been a while,” he grinned at his own joke. His relaxed demeanor helped calm her nerves, allowing her to exhale.

“It really has. Did you get taller?” Her banter was rewarded with a hearty laugh from him. The melodious sound, deep and rumbling, left her with a giddy feeling she couldn’t suppress. Quite oppositely, she found herself wanting to find more ways to keep him smiling, addicted to how handsome he was when he did.

“So, what brings you to the common area?”

“I figured I’d try to use my free period to organize all these syllabi,” she turned her screen towards him, showing the calendar she had been working on. The days were marked with assignment deadlines, test dates, and other miscellaneous reminders.

“Looks pretty organized to me,” he praised, his eyes scanning through her schedule.

“Thanks, I’m big on color coding.” She rubbed the back of her neck, her voice faltering slightly when she added, “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know what I’m doing. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a class.” Her breath hitched as she felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed about,” he encouraged softly, “everyone has a different story coming into college. One isn’t better than the other.” The way he directed his kind gaze at her let her know that he really meant it. His brown eyes, warmer and richer in real life than in her imagination, pulled her in. It could’ve been her mind playing tricks, but she could’ve sworn that he started to lean in too. A sudden crash of books falling from the shelf startled them apart, cutting the tension. He quickly dropped his hand, her skin tingling even after he pulled away. Awkwardly clearing her throat, she averted her gaze.

Desperate to move past their heated moment, she pivoted the conversation back to him. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have an office?”

“I do,” he answered, his voice a touch hoarser than when he first sat down, “but I like to spend some time outside of it. I’m more accessible to my students if I work where they work.”

“That’s really sweet. I wish all professors were like you,” she complimented him sincerely. His cheeks flushed, and this time he turned away to recollect himself. He may not have been facing her, but she could still see the tips of his ears reddening. God, he’s adorable.

“So-uh-,” he coughed, “how long until your next class?”

She glanced down at her watch. “Not for another hour. Why?”

“Do you want to grab lunch? With me, I mean,” he chuckled nervously. “I think I owe you a meal for saving my life twice now.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said earnestly. His mouth began to move to protest, but she lifted a hand to stop him from saying another word. “I’ll still grab lunch. With you, I mean,” she bit back a grin, genuinely amused by how cute he was as his eyes widened with shock. He blinked a few times, shaking off his surprise. A delighted look washed over his face. With a newly found bravado, he stood up, extending his arm out for her to grab.

“Shall we, milady?”

She couldn’t hide the smile that broke out. Chuckling, she packed her laptop into her bag and looped her arm through his. “We shall, sir.”

---

They walked arm-in-arm to a café across campus. It was understandably busy since they arrived during peak lunch hour. Fortunately, they were able to find a table for two in the back. A waiter rushed over a few moments after they sat down.

“Hey, I’m Glenn and I’ll be your server today,” he attempted to sound cheery, but it was evident that the lunch rush was wearing him out. “We’re running low on menus, so is it alright if you two share one?”

“That’s fine with us,” Abel answered politely.

“Sweet. I’ll be back in a bit to take your orders,” he set down the menu before running off to tend to another table. Abel turned the menu to the side, leaning forward so he could read the options. She peered down as well but could hardly focus on the words she was reading. The closeness of their faces left her dazed, the faint smell of his cologne clouding her thoughts completely. Cinnamon. The man smells like cinnamon. She jumped in her seat when she felt his foot accidentally brush against her calf, a small yelp escaping from her throat.

“Sorry! Long legs,” he apologized sheepishly, shifting himself away from her.

“It’s fine,” she waved him off, her nonchalance a stark contrast from how her heart hammered in her chest. “Um, do you come here often?” Really, Ro? That’s the best you can do?

“Yeah, my department likes to have meetings here since it’s so close to our building.”

“That’s cool,” she cringed inwardly, racking her brain for another question to ask. “So, how long have you been a professor?”

“Not that long, actually,” he answered, thankfully unaware of her inner turmoil, “I actually was a student at WCC.”

“No kidding,” she rested her chin in her hand, “smart guy like you, I figured you went to a big fancy university.” His face darkened briefly; the change so subtle she would’ve missed it if she wasn’t right in front of him. But she was- and she didn’t miss how his shoulders tensed, jaw clenching slightly as his eyes glossed over. In the next instant, he schooled his expression back to normal, but this time his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Well, it all worked out in the end,” he continued, ignoring her previous statement. “I spent my post-grad years doing research with the former head of the archaeology department. She offered me a job with the school when she retired, and I’ve been here ever since.” A lull of silence settled between them, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach.

“Hey Abel, I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted, “really, no harm done.” His tone was reassuring, but insistent, as if he were silently pleading for her not to press any further.

“Alright,” she sighed, noticing how he visibly relaxed back into his seat at her surrender. Maybe she’d ask again another time. Just not today. Wanting to add some levity, she joked, “I bet you were a huge dork in college.”

The glint in his eyes returned. He smirked at her, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was an absolute stud in college.”

“How the mighty have fallen,” she teased him further, giving a pointed look at his collared sweater.

“You cut deep,” he clutched at his chest. “You can’t tell me I don’t look incredible in this.” He began making ridiculous poses with his arms to show off his figure, all paired with what she assumed to be his attempt at a seductive pouty lip. His theatrics sent her into a fit of giggles, the light, airy sound making him break down as well. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw their waiter approaching the table.

“Sorry for the wait. What can I get you guys?” he asked, pen and paper in hand.

She focused her attention on their waiter, knowing she would completely lose her composure if she saw how Abel’s shoulders lightly shook as he tried to contain his laughter. Peering down at the menu, she picked the first thing she saw. “I’ll have #4 with fries.”

“Same here,” Abel chimed in, chuckling under his breath.

“Any drinks?”

“Water’s fine.”

“You got it. Shouldn’t be too long.” With that, she watched as he made his way back to the counter. Her eyes drifted back to Abel, her breath catching in her throat when she realized he was staring right at her- a goofy, carefree smile on his face. She looked down, suddenly very interested in the silverware in front of her. Oh, they give two forks here.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” His voice brought her attention back to him.

“S-sure,” she gulped, leg bouncing underneath the table. Her heart sped up as he gently took both her hands in his, his fingers warm and rough against hers. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, an intense look in his eyes. “Do you really think this sweater is dorky?” A sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh escaped her lips. He snickered as she pulled away from his touch to lightly smack his arm.

“You jerk,” she reached forward to try to hit him again, but he managed to dodge her attack.

“Answer the question,” he said in between laughs.

“It’s extremely dorky,” she teased playfully. She took a pause, hesitating for a moment before she added with a softer voice, “But I like dorky.”

His mischievous grin melted into something warmer. “Lucky me,” he breathed out. She held his gaze, the rest of the café fading into the background. For the second time that day, she felt herself being pulled in. He was definitely doing something to her. Whatever it was, she didn’t want him to stop. In her head, she lunges forward, taking his face in her hands to pull him into a kiss that would leave them both breathless. But in reality, she just grips the sides of her chair, forcing herself to stay in place. That doesn’t stop her eyes from flicking down to his mouth. Or the heated look they both give each other. “Rowan, I-“

“Thanks for being patient guys,” Glenn interrupts, oblivious. When the hell did he get there? He sets down their drinks and plates in front of them. “Let me know if you need anything else.” They both mumbled a quick thank you, waiting until he left before moving. She glanced back at Abel, silently hoping he’d continue with whatever he was about to say.

“W-we should eat,” he said hurriedly, stumbling over his words while placing a napkin over his lap, “we need to get back on campus soon.”

Her shoulders slumped, but she hid her disappointment with a small smile. “You’re right. Pass me the ketchup.”

---

Later, Rowan found herself in the back of Connor’s car on the way to the witch’s coven. Amalia nudged her with her elbow, grabbing her attention from looking out the window. “So! How was school? What did you think?” she asked, barely containing her excitement.

She swallowed a smile as she recalled how Abel insisted that he walk her to class, even if it meant that he’d be late to his meeting.

“I can make up the time. Long legs, wide stride. Plus, they can’t start without me,” he winked.

There weren’t a lot of things left in her life that made her genuinely happy. With everything going on, finding new things that made her smile seemed almost impossible. But here she was, grinning like an idiot. Hell, she was excited- and she wasn’t ready to let go of that feeling just yet. “I think I’m going to like college.”

---

#abel x mc #abel flint #my fic #ilw fic #ilw fanfic #it lives within #it lives in the woods #it lives beneath #ilw #ilitw #ilb #it lives series #it lives project #it lives anthology #playchoices #choices #fluff bc i needed to take a break from consuming all that angst #almost kisses #almost kisses everywhere

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acourtofquestions · 2 months

Text

EoS Chapter 57:

spoiler “more” bar of safety🙃

— I’m calling this Chapter LORCAN DON’T DIE; wow times have changed😅😅 — Current hope… Can Aelin like double oath him?😂 if Gavriel and Fenrys had 2 opposing blood oaths could she cancel out Maeve’s order? I don’t want them “blood-oathed” to anyone frankly but it feels like a possible short term solution and IDK at this point 🤷‍♀️ — Mostly I just wanna see Elide come home to the Court of Terrasen & have a “traumatized children” now as healing adults moment🥹

“She had imagined Aelin's power, dreamed of how it had shattered the glass castle. She hadn't considered that the reality of seeing it unleashed would make her bones quail in terror.” — always seems to be a mix of awe and horror

— The fact she’s able to read Lorcan really is a gift😂

— Aelin & Rowan fighting over who gets to defend who in stance😂🫶

— all about “sending messages” these days

— “But what would she even say to Aelin? Hello? How do you do? Please don't burn me?” — it’s giving as you can see I am very small and have no money😂

— “A gentle hand touched her shoulder. Pay attention. Look around.” — Lorcan mate telepathy? Mother Marion? Or Annieth?

— sure pull the classic “I don’t care” I’VE SEEN THAT BEFORE ROWAELIN MANORIAN ETC. (I know where this is going😂)

— all Lorcan had left was her🥹

— SHE DOVE FOR HIM

— FENRYS BABY NO DONT TOUCH OTHER BB

— “Lorcan's onyx eyes were unreadable as he scanned her face. And then he said quietly, "I wanted to go to Perranth with you." Lorcan dropped the shield. — It was not a hard choice. And it did not frighten him. Not nearly as much as the fatal wound in her arm did.” — I am dead inside

— “Lorcan had been born from and gifted with darkness. Returning to it was not a difficult task.” — seems to share the “witch theology” of Manon

— “But letting that glimmering, lovely light before him die out ... In (his ancient, bitter bones, he could not accept it.”

— “She had been forgotten--by everyone and everything. And still she had hoped. And still she had been kind to him. And still she had offered him a glimpse of peace in the time he'd known her. She had offered him a home.” — sobbing now

— he knew Fenrys didn’t want to either (I even think Gavriel is trying to drain his power)

— also where is Aelin here?

— even half dead Elide is fighting for him😭

— YES INNER CADRE KNOWLEDGE FOR THE WIN YES QUEEEEENS — SO THAT WAS THE PLAN!!!

— finally some successfully thought time

— I love EVERY Aelin enterance😂

— “Young, and yet her face ... It was an ancient face, wary and cunning and limned with power. Beautiful, with the sun-kissed skin, the vibrant turquoise eyes. Turquoise eyes, with a core of gold around the pupil. Ashryver eyes. The same as the golden-haired, handsome man who came up beside her, muscled body tense as he assessed whether he'd need to spill blood, a bow dangling from his hand. Two sides of the same golden coin. Aelin. Aedion.”

— “Young--she felt so young compared to the woman who approached. There were scars all over Aelin's hands, along her neck, around her wrists ... where shackles had been. Aelin slid to her knees not a foot away, and it occurred to Elide that she should be bowing, head to the dirt.” — the way Aelin’s descriptions keep shifting and also the fact AELIN bowed😭 (finally elide getting the respect she deserves + big sister “if you hurt her speeches) THE FAMILY IS TOGETHER AGAIN — “This was real”

— "You look... so much like your mother," — now I’m losing it for good

— "I'm so sorry." How many years had those words been locked up? — But Aelin didn't break her stare, even as tears continued cutting through the dirt on her cheeks. "Your mother told me to tell you that she loves you--very much. Those were her last words to me. 'Tell my Elide I love her very much.'" For over ten years, Aelin had been the sole bearer of those final words. Ten years, through death and despair and war, Aelin had carried them across kingdoms. And here, at the edge of the world, they had found each other again. Here at the edge of the world, just for a heartbeat, Elide felt the warm hand of her mother brush her shoulder.” — Aedion's turquoise eyes softened. "It survived. We survived." — "I'm here," Elide said as Aelin fixed those unnervingly vivid eyes on her, "because of Kaltain Rompier."

— and NOW MANON’S BACK & they know the others safe too 🥹

— “A shadow instantly lifted from Elide's heart, a whispering presence now silenced.” — and now Aelin has two carry two… she’s getting too drained… I’m worried😭

— Manon and Aelin back a it again🤣 (Ch. 57 spoilers for later; once Ansel joins in it’s gonna be crazy)

— “Tried not to make it seem like she hadn't just met her queen, her friend, her court, and ... somehow now found Lorcan to be the safest of them all. Manon smirked at Lorcan. "Your claim on her, male, is at the very bottom of the list." Iron teeth slid out, turning that beautiful face petrifying. Lorcan didn't let go. Manon crooned in that way that usually meant death, "Don't. Touch. Her." "You don't give me orders, witch," Lorcan said. "And you have no say in what is between us." Elide frowned at him. "You're making it worse." "We like to call it 'territorial male nonsense,"" Aelin confided. "Or 'territorial Fae bastard' works just as nicely." "Am I forgetting another term of endearment?" The warrior-prince's eyes glowed, even as his face remained set with predatory intent. "I think you covered it." Aelin winked at Lorcan. "You hurt her, and I'll melt your bones," she merely said, and walked away. Aedion looked Lorcan over and snorted. "Aelin does whatever she wants, but I think she'd let me see how many of your bones I can break before she melts them." — at this point this entire chapter is amazing lol I can’t get over any of it also the amount of facial expression reactions people must have to Aelin (I need an adaptation for things like this lol)

— ONE SILVER ONE GOLD (two sides of the coin)

— "That power could just as easily destroy her, you know." "I know," Rowan admitted. — NO THANK YOU

— “It had been a song that had made his magic erupt in kind.”

— She glows (drop that skin care routine queen😂)

— Final few things: (before final note) is the white wolf just a nickname then and Aedion isn’t actually? — SHE SOOTHED LORCAN🥹 — can everyone admit to being mates already? — the CONTRAST of Manon & Aelin — I LOVE THESE BOOKS

— "Such a good dog." Rowan gave him a lazy smile but refrained from commenting on the delicate, dark-haired young woman who now held Lorcan's own leash. — cackling I love our tattooed golden retriever😂 AND NOW (again) ONTO 58

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lya-dustin · 1 year

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All is bliss

Chapter 53

Cw: grooming, murder, child abuse, fertility issues, magic, description of injuries, body horror, ableism

Gif by @daenerys-tarrgaryen

Taglist: @mercedesdecorazon @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @alexandria-millie @ewanmitchellcrumbs @darylandbethfanforever9

Rhaena ---despite Jeyne putting her foot down saying it was too dangerous--- was packed along with her stepbrother and their dragons and escorted to her father by the army Jeyne promised father and her half-sister, Nettles.

Why, she isn’t sure, but Nettles thinks it’s to show off their dragons and make the Greens shit themselves.

“I do not like him.” Her eight and ten year old half-sister made her displeasure known after Ser Corwyn, a man of eight and twenty, helps her onto her horse.

“But I do, Nettie.” The girl said playing with the red ribbon he gave her back in the Eyrie. He was handsome, and great at jousting, and if Nettles was into boys, she’d find it very attractive when he takes off his tunic when he spars.

Rhaena had scarcely turned five and ten ---two weeks ago--- when the lords and knights in Lady Jeyne’s court begin to fight for her attention. She supposed it was her turn since everyone’s getting betrothed.

Baela is betrothed to the heir of House Rowan who Lady Jeyne claims is part of a conspiracy to kill Aegon and make Aemma queen. Aegon was led to believe by his councilors he had truly become loyal to him, and the Usurper believed them.

Joanna Westerling has sent a raven to father offering herself or his choice of her four daughters in exchange for ridding her of the Red Kraken. Father had ---according to Nettles--- chosen the widow as her bravery had him rooting for her despite her allegiance.

Rhaena has plenty of offers, but the choice is up to father, unfortunately.

Kermit Tully offers himself as a groom for Rhaena, as does three- and ten-year-old Bloody Benjicot Blackwood, Jason Lannister, Lord Manderley’s heir, Lord Tarly and Ser Corwyn Corbray.

Rhaena would gladly choose Ser Corwyn if it were up to her. It wasn’t fair mama married papa out of love, she tells her sister when she says he is too old for her.

“Your mother was two and twenty, and he killed the Sealord’s annoying son for her. If Ser Corwyn cares for you an ounce of what Daemon cared for his two late wives, he will wait until you are of age and know your own mind, little sister.” Nettles points out and changed the topic. “Do you think Vhagar knows Morning is hers?”

“Yes, when Aemond was Aemma’s hostage Vhagar would let her curl up beside her, she even let us get on her saddle. Unless you try to command your parent’s dragon, they don’t harm you. When Baela trained Moondancer for fighting, Vhagar refused to hurt her. Caraxes has no such problem, but that is because Caraxes is a jerk.” Rhaena explained wondering why she’d ask that.

Morning was as large as a colt now; the freedom of the mountain helped her grow as if she were a wild dragon like Nettles’ Sheepstealer. She was not a fighter, she needed training for it, but if she were to be around and hurt, Vhagar would have no other choice than to rescue her hatchling.

“Why does father want me there?”

“Baela’s escaping Kingslanding as we speak, Daemon wants Vhagar out of the fight and the only way to do it is if her hatchlings lead her away from the battle.”

Prince Aenys suckles at Alys’ teat as if she hadn’t bound his life to hers. The babe would live as long as she did while he was still at her breast.

It served as insurance, and the only way the babe lives. Had he been handed off to an ordinary woman, the babe would have been blue by morning.

Alys had done this before. With Ida’s first boy, Simon’s eldest grandson and the housekeeper’s bastard girl. They all lived long and healthy lives, save for little Simon who she felt Daemon bring down Dark Sister on him.

Every dying child she nurses becomes tied to her.

She cannot give life, but she may nurture it. A small consolation for when your gods take away your chance to be an ordinary woman with an ordinary man and give birth to perfectly ordinary children.

Her husband had been killed by the same demon he sired on her; Larys’ horrible mama had been killed by the demon Alys gave birth to when she gave King Viserys her maidenhead.

She had prayed for a chance to get away from her stepmother who believed her to be the reason Larys was born the way he was.

The gods answered, just not the way she had hoped.

Her mother, a witch from Oldtown, had been proud, her father toyed with the valyrian steel link in his old chain as she tearfully explained her situation when three- and ten-year-old Harwin found her cradling Willam’s body in her bloody bed.

After that Alys honed her skills while father and Harwin helped erase any evidence of her …experiments out of love for her.

Her sisters remained blissfully unaware of it all, Larys loathed her for she knew his true nature, but Harwin adored her as all little brothers adore their big sisters.

As thanks for keeping her secrets, Alys kept the curse of Harren the Black at bay. The curse that plagued Harwin since Lady Beatrice Rowan gave birth to him on an unlucky day.

He had nightmares of fires, of being locked in his rooms and Larys laughing as he beats the door bloody until he burns alive.

Alys used all her arts to keep her brother alive, as long as she never left the castle it would not claim sweet Harwin who was so much more than just the Breakbones.

Then one night, Larys drugged her with sweetsleep and locked her in a cottage in the woods just outside the grounds to kill their father and brother.

Same brother Larys envied for being everything he wasn’t.

He wants her dead, now that he has lost everything for betting on the wrong horse. He killed his kin for a cursed castle, so she let it all fall on his frail shoulders.

Once he is dead, Ida’s sons with Lord Whent will inherit the title and lands that come with Harrenhal. Osbert Whent, a boy of four who would need a regent. Someone Ida knows would die and kill for him.

And that someone is his beloved auntie, Alys.

“The babe dies if I die.” She tells him as she continues to care for the baby prince.

“The babe is a bastard, he has as much value as you do, sweet sister.” Her brother said with a smile. “The little queen will have others. She doesn’t even love the babe, perhaps she may thank me for ridding her of it.”

“You do not know the rage of a mother, Larys. Even if she claims not to love her son, her blood will not let her rest until he is avenged.” The witch chided him for thinking all mothers were as cruel as his.

Lara Strong had made it loud and clear that she’d been disappointed in her son. She wanted a son better than Harwin who had always seemed uncannily perfect.

Larys, while loved by his father and siblings, loathed them for believing in the venom his mother raised him on. Hated them so much he became a kinslayer thinking he could fill that void in him with wealth and a title.

Nothing more terrible in this world than to live without ever knowing love.

“So you say, sweet sister, so you say.”

“The Silent Sisters’ said it was beyond their ability to embalm her, the most they could was wrap her as tightly as they could.” He murmured squeezing his eye shut as if trying to will the memory of it away.

Usually, he is the one holding her, and tonight Aemma returns the favor. She braids his hair, helps him remove his false eye and when he asks her to comfort him in the way he had assumed, she turns him down as she has not fully recovered from the birth.

“I’m sorry you had to see it.” Aemma whispered tucking him under her chin as he is fond of doing with her.

Alicent’s death had been so gruesome she was wrapped in linen drenched in fragrant oils like a Valyrian instead of having her body embalmed as it was typical for Andal funerals. The spikes had torn through too much, even now some pieces of her clothes were stuck under the worst ones she fell on.

Whether she took her own life or was murdered was an entirely different beast. The only one in the room was Alys who swore on the Seven-pointed star she was burping Aenys on the other side of the nursery when it happened.

Not that they believed her, but they can’t change Aenys’ wetnurse without risking the babe becoming ill or worse, dying.

Even if grandfather’s and Aemond’s theory that she used her dark arts to kill her mother were true, they would have to postpone any trial and execution after Aenys has been weaned.

That would mean Daemon must wait another year to avenge her mother as he vowed that day she died.

“What are you thinking?” he asks turning so he could rest his head on her breast. If you saw him like this, you wouldn’t believe he was the same haughty prick you see in public.

“The same woman who killed your mother and mine is the same who nurses our son. We’ll have to wait until he is weaned to kill her.” She answered and he quietly chuckled.

“Aren’t you afraid she’ll kill him?”

A good question. One her grandfather and Baela and Jena and even Aegon had asked her since Alicent’s murder.

“No, self-preservation trumps all, she knows the moment anyone gets a whiff ---real or imagined--- of her mistreating the Prince of Dragonstone she is dragon food. Why do you think all your brother’s supporters are flocking to me now that the end is nigh, dear husband?”

Most courtiers had turned Green to keep themselves alive and with all their wealth, now they switch their cloaks for black to do the same. While Aemma will spare them, she will still punish them for their treachery.

They didn’t learn anything from when Jaehaerys spared their forefathers, this time Aemma intends to make the lesson stick.

They must learn the world cannot have a second Otto Hightower.

#aemma velaryon #aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc #all is bliss (in the court of aemma the great)#all is bliss(in the court of aemma the great) fic #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond x aemma #rhaena of pentos #nettles #alys rivers #ewan mitchell

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x-ceirios-x · 4 months

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(Part 2) City of Fallen Angels, Chapter 14: What Dreams May Come

please see the masterlist for notes about this series/collection of works

The area around ironworks was mostly warehouses and art galleries, the kind of neighborhood that emptied out at night, so it didn’t take too long for Jordan and Simon to find a parking space. Simon jumped down out of the truck, only to find Jordan already on the sidewalk, looking at him critically.

Simon hadn’t packed any nice clothes when he’d left his house—he didn’t have anything on him fancier than a bomber jacket that had once belonged to his dad—so he and Jordan had spent the afternoon prowling the East Village for a decent outfit for him to wear. They’d finally found an old Zegna suit in a consignment shop called Love Saves the Day that mostly sold glitter platform boots and sixties Pucci scarves. Simon suspected it was where Magnus got most of his clothes.

“What?” he said now, self consciously pulling down the sleeves of his suit jacket. It was a little too small for him, though Jordan had opined that if he never buttoned it, no one would notice. “How bad do I look?”

Jordan shrugged. “You won’t crack any mirrors,” he said. “I was just wondering if you were armed. You want anything? Dagger, maybe?” He opened his own suit jacket just a bit, and Simon saw something long and metallic glinting against the inside lining.

“No wonder you and Jace like each other so much. You’re both crazy walking arsenals.” Simon shook his head in weariness and turned to head toward the Ironworks entrance. It was across the street, a wide gold awning shadowing a rectangle of sidewalk that had been decorated with a dark red carpet with the gold image of a wolf stamped into it. Simon couldn’t help being slightly amused.

Leaning against one of the poles holding up the awning was Rowan. They were wearing a dark blue three-piece suit that looked black in the shadows, with the jacket draped over their shoulders rather than having their arms through them. They fiddled with the gold ring on their finger and he noticed all of their other jewelry was silver: several ear piercings, a thin necklace, and a different, bulkier ring on their opposite thumb. Their hair appeared to be styled, the waves expertly placed and sprayed into place, all of their hair pushing forward and into their eyes slightly. He saw the hint of Marks poking just over the collar of their white shirt.

“You clean up nice,” he said cheerfully. Upon closer inspection, they really did look nice. Handsome, maybe, if they liked that word. He wondered if they got Isabelle or maybe Magnus to help them.

“Thanks,” they said, pulling themselves out of their thoughts. “You must be the werewolf boyfriend. J…something. Sorry.”

He chuckled and extended his hand. “Jordan Kyle. And thank you for the help tonight.”

Rowan shook his hand expertly, like they’d done this a million times. With how much they loved meeting new people, he wondered if they’d practiced this in the mirror or something. He knew he certainly did stuff like that when he was going somewhere. There was a certain anxiety, he noticed, in the tightness of their mouth, but it was overshadowed by the mask of confidence they put on for the occasion. He doubted anyone else would notice. “Thank me when I get you answers.” They turned towards Simon. “Maia and Isabelle are both here, for fair warning. Good luck. Oh, and a message from Izzy:—” they put on a high-pitched, valley-girl kind of voice— “Don’t bother Maia, don’t try to talk to her, don’t even look at her, or I’ll fold you in half so many times you’ll look like a tiny little origami werewolf.”

Simon would have laughed if it weren’t for the circumstances. He’d heard Rowan’s impression of both Alec and Clary before, but never Isabelle. Apparently, they had an accent for each. Alec’s was stuffy and posh British. He kept his laughter under control, though, covering it with a cough.

Rowan sat up, off of the pole, and sighed. “Let’s get this over with, boys,” they said, sounding about as enthusiastic as they could, which was very minimal. Simon and Jordan followed their lead into the building.

2 notes · View notes

gloppyfish · 2 years

Text

sex pollen fic

Pairing: Rowan Desai & Círdan (characters in the dnd party i’m in lol)

Warnings: sex… pollen…. sex pollen… overuse of hyphens and generally inaccurate depiction of gay butt sex… dubcon? (because pollen)

A/N: this is not going to be an enriching or satisfying read to anyone who does not know these characters i’m so sorry. but still read it please :D

——————

Rowan was gone.

Círdan had awoken from his trance, looked to his right, and seen sheets thrown back on a vacant bed. Laying on the bedside table was a precariously balanced pile of leather outer armor that his unwilling roommate had shed earlier in the night, but the man himself was nowhere to be found, the slight cave in his mattress and his left-behind leathers being the only indication that he was ever even there.

Círdan stared blankly at the empty mattress for a few beats before wheels and cogs finally began to turn in his brain. He was gone. Why was he gone?

The room was completely silent.

There was an empty spot, Círdan noticed, on the table beside the pile of armor and he was positive that Rowan’s dagger had been placed there when they had first retired to the room. The paladin had entered, faced the wall, stripped himself of his protective gear, and then placed his blade on the table, and the only reason that Círdan is certain this happened is because he’d been watching the other man’s movements intently as he de-armored himself, eyes fixated on the ripples of muscle visible when he stretched his arms. When Rowan had turned slightly to the side, Círdan quickly averted his gaze, eartips burning hot with shame.

The absence of the weapon was slightly worrying — what were the chances that Rowan had gotten into genuine trouble and had to leave armed and ready to fight? But then again, he would probably take his weapon with him on a simple midnight stroll just to have it within arm’s reach. He was fine. Probably.

Círdan chose not to worry or care too much. He was not in the mood to stress himself to the point of aneurysm only for Rowan to return nonchalantly in the morning from a nice night walk around town. Plus truthfully, he doubted Rowan would give a shit if the roles in this situation were switched. If anything, a sudden disappearance on Círdan’s part would probably just fuel Rowan’s obvious, likely prejudice-based suspicions about the Drow. It was hard to miss all of the sidelong glances and glares that Rowan loved to cast Círdan’s way, the message obvious: I don’t trust you. Every other member of the ragtag group Círdan found himself working alongside had been accepting of him despite his dark lineage, but Rowan — lone wolf, self righteous, pain in the ass Rowan — was the only one to show malice of any kind. So why should he have to give half a shit where the brute had skittered off to?

The most fucked up, anger inducing aspect of it all, however, was that Rowan was a fucking looker. He was the phrase ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ personified, but with additional adjectives added on like ‘isolated’ and ‘probably kind of racist.’ If Círdan lacked self respect, there would be nothing stopping him from diving head first into fantasies about the paladin, but the case was simple: Rowan disliked Círdan and Círdan disliked him back. The occasional glances that he stole were only natural.

A sigh sounded throughout the small bedroom as he hauled himself to the edge of the bed and touched his feet to the carpeted floor. It was soft underfoot as he walked to the wide window on the far wall, running his index along the deep ridges and etched designs on the dark stained windowsill and staring out into the shadows beyond. Unlit lamps stood tall, brittle grass brushed in the wind, the streets empty — quite the stark contrast to how lively Phandalin was in the light hours. Streets bustling with life, vendors dotting the paved roads with their carts stock full of various foodstuffs and trinkets for sale. A lovely town, truly, with just the tiniest smidge of gang activity. Pros and cons. Círdan could picture himself eventually settling in a place like this, where everyone knows everyone and everyone likes everyone, for the most part. It worked for some distant, vague future he could possibly see himself in. But for now he was fine nomadic, married to a life of travel and adventure and service to Rhemus, because that’s what he had grown familiar with. It was his own little loose routine and it defined him. He half feared that settling down would make him lose his spark. That concept scared him; he resigned to not thinking about it most days, staying wholly in the present.

With one hand propping up his head, Círdan continued to stare, slipping out of reality. He stayed that way for a while, in a sort of half-trance state, before he picked up on a subtle noise — an almost imperceptible shh shh shh coming from a direction he couldn’t quite place. He blinked once, twice, before shaking his head to regain clarity. He honed in on the sound, focused hard to try and hear it again.

Shh shh. Chh.

He craned his neck back to stare at the door, nearly positive that that was where the sound was coming from. Heartbeat quickening, he stared, noticing the subtle shift of the doorknob, as if someone was struggling to enter. Círdan ghosted his hand over the dagger still attached to the belt draped across his waist.

With a creak, the door slid open painfully slowly. Instead of a criminal, it was Rowan who staggered in, and he looked like a mess. Certainly the most disheveled Círdan has ever seen him during their short tenure as colleagues — and that was saying a lot, as they’d gone through strenuous battle together.

His hair was slick with sweat at his forehead, stuck in thin strands against his skin. He was leaning against the doorframe, fists clenched, gaze downcast.

Círdan just stared, unsure of what to do or say. Clearly something was wrong with the man, but he couldn’t tell what. There were no visible wounds or tears in his garments, but his eyes were half lidded like he was on the verge of collapse.

“Rowan?”

His gaze snapped up to meet Círdan’s quickly. He looked almost startled to hear the other man speak. He didn’t respond, just stood there, hunched slightly with a heaving chest.

“Rowan?” Círdan repeated.

“You need— to leave,” Rowan finally punched out.

His voice was so strained and gravelly and genuinely urgent that Círdan felt goosebumps prickle the back of his spine.

The taller man entered the room with a stumble and headed to his bedside table. He fumbled with his waistband for a second before pulling out his dagger and placing it down. He didn’t turn around after that, stayed facing the wall behind the table, shoulders taut and full of visible tension.

“What? Why? What’s wrong with you?”

“It doesn’t matter, you— you need to go.”

Círdan was getting nervous. “Why? Is someone coming?“

“No— fuck,” Rowan cursed. His body trembled with every breath, and it was so incredibly unnatural to see a man who was normally so stoic looking like he was on the precipice of complete chaos. “Someone…. I was out…” His words were half-slurred as he tripped over them and Círdan felt urgency and dread beat harshly in his chest like a snare drum. He took a half-step back, uncertain.

“I went out…outside. Fresh air,” Rowan struggled to say, “and there was a— a Red Brand. Looking to do some kind of tradeoff, I think…” It sounded like it was taking genuine effort for him to get words out, let alone string them together coherently. He swallowed thickly, wetting his lips and turning his head slightly to the side so half of his face was revealed to Círdan. “He had these vials, was acting real sketchy. I got up, he got nervous. Emptied a— a whole vial in my face.”

“So… what?” Círdan asked, fidgeting with his sleeve nervously. “What was in the vial?”

Rowan didn’t answer, just turned his head back to stare blankly at the wall. He was relatively still, the only indicator of his inner turmoil being his hands gripping the edges of the table hard, knuckles white from the force of it.

“Rowan?“ Círdan prompted again. Silence was bad. Maybe it was poison. Maybe he was about to keel over and fucking die on the dusty inn floor.

“You need to leave,” Rowan repeated darkly.

“Stop fucking saying that. Tell me what was in the vial.”

“This is so– fucking stupid.” Rowan turned fully then. He looked frantic in the way a caged animal would be. “Why is it so important for you to know every little detail? Why can’t you just listen to me?” Beads of sweat slid down his neck, collecting on his already damp undershirt.

Círdan would have been pissed at his tone if the circumstances were different, but the pure desperation in the other man’s voice amplified his worry tenfold.

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” he said.

“You don’t want to help,” Rowan huffed, voice lifting at the end of his short sentence, almost like he was holding back a dry laugh.

“I do.”

“No, you don’t understand. You don’t… shit—“ Rowan’s voice cracked at the curse and he wrenched his gaze away, staring at the floor. He almost looked embarrassed with just how flushed and sweaty he was and his newfound aversion to eye contact. Rowan brought a hand quickly down to the waistband of his pants to fidget with it, and it was then when Círdan noticed.

There was a bulge in Rowan’s pants.

He stared.

Rowan breathed heavily, looked back up, immediately seeming to notice the line of sight Círdan had adopted.He turned slightly sideways in what was likely an attempt to cover his erection and regain his decency.

An incredibly awkward silence smothered the two before Rowan cleared his throat. “Aphrodisiac,” he said, curt with the delivery of the word and visibly uncomfortable.

Círdan would have laughed — he almost did, at the absurdity of it. He had no idea how to even begin to process this information, so he just took another step back and offered a quiet “oh.”

“I think it was crushed myllum root. It… has a smell to it, and— shit… you need to go.”

Embarrassment crept its way up the Drow’s spine like a vine snaking up an abandoned building. All this time, Rowan had been practically begging him to leave so he could fucking relieve himself, and Círdan had stayed, continued pestering the guy as liquid sex was pumping throughout his body.

“What, uh— what are you going to do?” Círdan stammered, and he hit himself mentally for asking. For not just making a beeline to the door and getting himself out of the situation. He didn’t know why he felt so compelled to stay and work through this situation like it was anything that concerned him.

“Fuck, Círdan,” Rowan said, “you need to go.”

Círdan’s heart stuttered at that, the way his name sounded being pushed out of Rowan’s mouth in a plea. He took note of the raw desperation, and wondered what was going through the paladin’s head. What he’d do if Círdan stayed.

Slow steps took the Drow closer to Rowan’s shuddering form. He put up a hand to halt his approach.

“No,” he pushed out, but the previous conviction in his tone was gone. He stared down at Círdan, the only thing between the two being the taller man’s raised arm.

Círdan stopped, stayed still for a few beats as he contemplated how to phrase his thoughts. “I can help you,” he said, “if you want.”

Rowan didn’t answer. Or move. Círdan wasn’t sure if he was even breathing.

“Rowan.”

Still, silence.

As seconds ticked by, the tension in the room shifted from that of the sexual kind to the devastatingly awkward kind, and it was so stifling that Círdan had to take a step back. Rowan kept staring at him with blown pupils, brows stitched together in what could have been pain, or lust, or embarrassment – or a very uncomfortable mix of the three.

Cirdan opened his mouth to say something, but any and all words had fled his mind. He felt embarrassed now, standing there aimlessly as he desperately searched for words to repair the state of the situation. Obviously he’d crossed some boundary; he had not been thinking straight, and had made things worse for all parties involved. Now that the heat of the moment had subsided, and Cirdan had the time to actually think about his actions, he realized that maybe what he’d done was totally, out-of-this-world fucked up. Rowan – his half-acquaintance, half-enemy – had stumbled into the room with brain and body addled by aphrodisiac, and the only way Cirdan had thought to help was to essentially force himself on the drugged man. Fuck.

“Look–” he started, “I think… I’m sorry if I– if I overstepped, in any way. I– Shit, I thought – Well, I don’t know what I thought–”

“Fuck. Shut up.”

Cirdan immediately stopped his rambling, mind going blank at the unexpected interruption.

Rowan, with his chest still heaving, took a step forward, and something had changed. Cirdan could tell through key subtleties that something was different: Rowan held himself up straighter, had unclenched his fists, and his eyes – they looked almost fucking predatory with how they stared unwaveringly at Cirdan’s frozen form.

“Just – go to the bed.”

“Rowan?” Círdan croaked with a suddenly dry mouth. “No, no, it’s okay, you really don’t have to—“

“Fucking shut up. Bed.”

Never in Círdan’s life had his heartbeat been so erratic. Never had his blood rushed so loudly in his ears. Also — never had he been this embarrassingly stiff in his pants. He half-thought that all of this was some fabrication created by his mind and that he’d blink awake to soon realize that none of this was real.

When Círdan made no effort to move, still in visible shock, Rowan stormed toward him. Within mere moments, Círdan was being shoved back and downwards onto Rowan’s mattress, with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs. The taller man towered over the Drow in silence for a moment, perhaps contemplating, perhaps preparing himself, but before long he was back in motion, and it was almost too much. He shoved his knee between Círdan’s thighs so it rested snug against his crotch and brought a large hand down to firmly grasp his face, so tight it burned. Círdan could feel the heat radiating off of Rowan’s body, and was aware of his own temperature rising due to raw lust alone. His cock throbbed within the confines of his pants and the unrelenting pressure of Rowan’s knee was not helping at all. They’d just begun doing whatever this was and he already felt like he was on the verge of orgasm.

“F-Fuck, Rowan—,”

“Shh.”

Rowan’s grip on Círdan’s face got impossibly tighter. His hand trembled slightly.

“P-Pretty,” he muttered as he stared down.

Círdan’s heart stuttered in his chest. He tried to not think about how intimate this all felt. He knew it wasn’t Rowan’s intention to spew such strangely soft words at him, that this was all the work of the pollen. Some place deep within him ached and he did not want to go down the road of pondering why, did not want to open that can of worms. He opted for clutching Rowan’s shirt and pulling him down, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to have this onslaught of negative thoughts fucked out of existence.

Instead of succumbing to Círdan’s will, Rowan held his ground. He did not allow himself to be pulled downwards; he darted up to snag Círdan’s wandering hand and pin it down to the bed above his head.

“N-Not yet,” he said, sounding feverish. He adjusted himself so his knee was no longer pressed against Círdan’s dick, replacing it with his hand, palming him rough through his pants.

“F—fuck,” Círdan whimpered. Through his pleasure bled confusion; he’d assumed that sex with someone under the heavy influence of an aphrodisiac would be quick and to-the-point, the goal being reaching orgasm as fast as possible. But Rowan was taking painfully long to get to the point, relishing in foreplay instead of just fucking him like Círdan thought they had both desperately wanted. Círdan didn’t want to cum before the two had the chance to actually fuck, and it was starting to feel like he might.

Rowan’s touching did not cease. He kept on rubbing and teasing Círdan through his pants and grunting in response to every moan and mewl. He dropped the hand he had pinned and went to pull Círdan’s pants down, revealing his bulge in his underwear. The imprint of his dick against the fabric was clear as day, with a spot of wetness where his tip strained against it. Rowan ran his thumb along the tip over and over, watching as the spot got darker and wider by the second. Círdan bucked his hips up slightly with every run of Rowan’s finger.

“Rowan— fuck, Rowan, please—“

“Ple—please what?” Rowan’s voice cracked as he spoke, and when Círdan looked down, he saw that Rowan had taken to rubbing himself through his own pants. The sight alone almost made Círdan finish.

“Fuck— just… just fuck me already.”

Rowan groaned at that, but he didn’t listen. He made no move to flip Círdan over. What he did do, however, was momentarily stop his movements to hook his finger under the seam of Círdan’s underwear, and so frustratingly slowly, tug downwards until his dick was free of any restraints. Círdan felt his face go warm and he was acutely aware of the rapid rise and fall of his chest and stomach as he took quick, embarrassed breaths. Cum was leaking out of his tip and down his cock in thin wet lines as he twitched from sensitivity and lack of stimulation. It no longer mattered to him whether he was fucked or just touched — all he knew was that he desperately needed to cum.

“Please…” he whined.

Rowan was panting like an animal. He threw Círdan’s underwear somewhere off to the side and brought a large hand up to his length, brushing his thumb along the wetness. Círdan shuddered.

“Fuck,” Rowan muttered. He brought his hand forward slightly more and closed it around Círdan’s shaft, giving a few experimental pumps. The sound Círdan let out was guttural. His eyes screwed shut, his head fell back against the bed, his entire body clenched up so insanely tight he felt like he could snap in half from the tension. Rowan breathed heavy, going faster with his movements. “Yeah? You— you like that?” he asked, voice laced with lust. Círdan didn’t answer. He barely even processed the question with how clouded his brain was — he just bucked his hips upwards continuously, chasing the orgasm he felt steadily approaching. His lower half felt like it was burning and he was close, he was so, so, so close, he felt the muscles in his lower body contract in preparation, but then—

All at once, it stopped. The sensations ceased, the pleasure ceased. Círdan felt his heart stutter in devastation at the loss of touch. His dick was painfully hard and leaking a steady stream of precum. When he opened his eyes to figure out why Rowan had stopped, he saw that the other man had propped himself up on his knees further back on the bed. Frustration ran harsh through Círdan’s body. “Why’d you—“

“Flip over,” Rowan interrupted bluntly. A wave of arousal crested and crashed in Círdan’s stomach at the command, followed by an even larger wave of indignation. He didn’t want to comply, his mind was too fogged, too focused on immediate release. His mouth opened again to form a retort, but before any sound left his throat, Rowan was back to making demands. “Flip over,” he repeated darkly, bringing his hand down to tightly grip Círdan’s thigh so hard it hurt. Círdan sucked in a quick gasp of air at the pain.

“Or do you want me to do it for you?” Rowan continued after another stretch of silence. He left no time for a response: as soon as the demand left his mouth he was moving, wedging a strong arm under the small of Círdan’s back and hauling him upwards so he was in a half-sitting position. After that it was quick as lightning, the singular, effortless, rather aggressive motion it took for Rowan to flip Círdan over so his face and chest were flush to the mattress and his ass was pointed up. Rowan’s hand pressed down hard on the top of Círdan’s back.

“Fuck— ow—“ Círdan exclaimed, voice muffled.

Rowan did not relent in his force. He kept one hand holding Círdan down, and used the other to start undoing his own belt buckle.

Círdan was breathing in heavy pants born of mingled pain and pleasure. He shifted his legs slightly to try to get into a more comfortable position, but it was hard when Rowan was holding him down so intensely. He heard the clinking and shuffling stop behind him and felt his heart race with anticipation.

“Fuck,” Rowan breathed, voice thick with a desperate kind of lust Círdan had never encountered before. “T-Tell me you want it.”

Círdan felt his dick twitch at the words; he was so worked up he could cry. “I-I want it, Rowan. Please, please.”

“Fuck—“ Rowan sputtered. He edged slightly forward so the fronts of his thighs brushed against Círdan’s ass. It took a few more moments of adjustment and fiddling with his fly, but soon, Rowan’s dick was pressing hard against Círdan’s skin.

“R-Ready?” Rowan asked. He lined the head of his dick up with Círdan’s hole.

“Yes, yes, just fuck me already—“

Rowan pushed his hips forward. He went halfway in, paused for a moment, perhaps to adjust to the newfound tightness, and then seconds later was all the way in, balls pressed tight up against Círdan’s ass.

Círdan felt drunk with pleasure and pain and every other feeling the elven body was capable of experiencing. Rowan’s dick was huge, and it hurt, and it felt amazing, and Círdan was already so close to finishing that he had to coil the muscles in his lower abdomen to dissuade the ever-approaching wave of orgasm.

“F—Fuck — Rowan…” Círdan cried out. He was trying to thrust his own hips forward to give his dick some much needed friction, but Rowan’s force made it impossible. He could not do anything more than lay there and take it.

“Shh—shit, baby,” Rowan pushed through clenched teeth, “fuck— take it, take it…”

Círdan felt his eyes water from pure stimulation. Never in a million years would he have guessed that this is how the night was going to go, with him being fucked deep on an inn mattress by a man he so desperately wanted to dislike. His eyes were screwed shut on account of the fact that they would probably be crossed had he opened them, and he was pushing back onto Rowan’s dick to the best of his ability, wanting him deeper and harder.

“Fuck—ing s-slut,” Rowan slurred. “Wanted— wanted this since I first — shit — first saw you.”

The admission made Círdan’s stomach churn with arousal and something else, something dangerous.

“Prett—y thing, fucking annoying little…” His voice trailed off into more pants and grunts. He was close, Círdan could tell. His thrusts were getting sloppier, his sounds more frantic.

“Fuck— Círdan…”

Círdan knew the sound of his name on the paladin’s lips would not soon leave his mind. He felt like crying for ten million separate reasons, the most significant one being his too-potent pleasure, his desperate desire for release. He was on the edge.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m gonna—“

The feeling of Rowan’s warm cum spilling inside of him was all it took for Círdan to come undone. His orgasm hit him like a tidal wave: he let out a loud groan and bucked his hips wildly onto the bedsheet, relishing in the feeling of his own seed painting the bed below him. Rowan was still fucking him, messily now, with unsteady thrusts and a loosened grip.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Rowan repeated as he neared the end of his climax. He began to slow his movements gradually until he came to a complete stop.

Círdan’s orgasm used up any energy that had been left in him. He laid still on the bed like a ragdoll, ass pointed upwards and full of Rowan’s cum.

After a beat, Rowan slid himself out. He got off of Círdan and collapsed on the mattress beside him, apparently just as spent and exhausted. They laid there in silence in their own mess of sweat and semen, eyes closed, not acknowledging one another at all as they regained their senses.

Now that Círdan’s throbbing arousal was ebbing, he had time to really think about what had just happened and the potential repercussions of it. This could have very well ruined everything. There was a good chance that now that the pollen had left Rowan’s system, he would realize this whole thing was a big, irreversible mistake. His heart rate quickened at the thought, and he was suddenly consumed by the overwhelming urge to be made privy to everything that was going on in Rowan’s mind. He looked over to the paladin, noticing he was staring blankly at the ceiling.

“So…” Círdan spoke out into the silence. He shifted himself so he was no longer on his stomach but facing Rowan with his head propped up on his arm.

Rowan did not reply.

“So,” Círdan repeated, “do you, uh— Well, that was—“

“We— don’t have to talk about it.”

Círdan felt a pang of embarrassment. This had definitely ruined everything. He began to formulate the first draft of a departure plan in his head, because surely he’d need to find an entirely new circle of people, adopt a new way of life far, far away so he would not have to think about any of this ever again. “Right, yeah,” he said. He blinked away stinging tears and cursed himself for even having tears to blink away in the first place. “Sorry if this fucked things up.”

Rowan turned his head to the side and looked at Círdan. Círdan looked back and noticed a slight frown on his face. They just stared at each other for a second.

Rowan cleared his throat. “It was good,” he said. “It— You helped. Thank you.” His tone was the gentlest Círdan had ever heard it. A flight of butterflies erupted in his stomach, and he was at a loss for words for what felt like the tenth time that night.

Círdan let out a short breath of relief. “I’m glad I could help.”

Rowan gave back the slightest smirk, but it was gone within a fraction of a second.

He turned back to face the ceiling.

“Probably gonna interfere with work, though,” he said, voice back to being all monotone and disinterested like usual.

“Yeah, maybe,” Círdan replied with a smile, and for the first time in a while, he felt content.

#dnd smut #oc smut #smut #original characters #fanfiction #mlm #fanfic #rowdan #hi #read this #picture them both really hot #yay

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istumpysk · 2 years

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Tyrion I (Chapter 1)

He drank his way across the narrow sea.

Shut the fuck up, Tyrion.

Sorry, it's out of my system.

+.+.+

But why did he need salt beef, hard cheese, and bread crawling with worms when he had wine to nourish him? It was red and sour, very strong. Sometimes he heaved the wine up too, but there was always more.

I fully intended to give Tyrion the Cersei treatment, and highlight every instance of him drinking, but it turns out I would have to copy and paste every paragraph.

Just know he's intoxicated the entire chapter.

+.+.+

"Wherever whores go," his father had said. His last words, and what words they were. The crossbow thrummed, Lord Tywin sat back down, and Tyrion Lannister found himself waddling through the darkness with Varys at his side.

Unreliable narrator Tyrion Lannister.

"You shot me," he said incredulously, his eyes glassy with shock.

"You always were quick to grasp a situation, my lord," Tyrion said. "That must be why you're the Hand of the King."

"You . . . you are no . . . no son of mine."

"Now that's where you're wrong, Father. Why, I believe I'm you writ small. Do me a kindness now, and die quickly. I have a ship to catch." - Tyrion XI, ASOS

+.+.+

Varys had escorted him through the tunnels, but they never spoke until they emerged beside the Blackwater, where Tyrion had won a famous victory and lost a nose.

Unreliable narrator Tyrion Lannister.

A chain did not defeat Stannis Baratheon.

"Most people seem to feel that it was my attack on Lord Stannis's flank that turned the tide of battle. Lords Tyrell, Rowan, Redwyne, and Tarly fought nobly as well, and I'm told it was your sister Cersei who set the pyromancers to making the wildfire that destroyed the Baratheon fleet." - Tyrion I, ASOS

+.+.+

"I killed Shae too," he confessed to Varys.

"You knew what she was."

"I did. But I never knew what he was."

Varys tittered. "And now you do."

I should have killed the eunuch as well.

He laughed, lol.

Feels like Varys might have confirmed that secret entrance in Chataya's brothel was for Tywin.

+.+.+

He could hear voices shouting as he was hoisted up. Every bounce cracked his head against the bottom of the cask. The world went round and round as the cask rolled downward, then stopped with a crash that made him want to scream. Another cask slammed into his, and Tyrion bit his tongue.

[...]

Tyrion's mouth was full of blood. He spat it at the fat man's feet.

Hm.

<- Prologue

She sucked down a mouthful of the frigid air, and Varamyr had half a heartbeat to glory in the taste of it and the strength of this young body before her teeth snapped together and filled his mouth with blood. She raised her hands to his face. He tried to push them down again, but the hands would not obey, and she was clawing at his eyes. Abomination, he remembered, drowning in blood and pain and madness. When he tried to scream, she spat their tongue out.

+.+.+

Beneath his window six cherry trees stood sentinel around a marble pool, their slender branches bare and brown. A naked boy stood on the water, poised to duel with a bravo's blade in hand. He was lithe and handsome, no older than sixteen, with straight blond hair that brushed his shoulders. So lifelike did he seem that it took the dwarf a long moment to realize he was made of painted marble, though his sword shimmered like true steel.

That's fAegon evidence, but I have no reason to question Illyrio.

I was near as poor, a bravo in soiled silks, living by my blade. Perhaps you chanced to glimpse the statue by my pool? Pytho Malanon carved that when I was six-and-ten. A lovely thing, though now I weep to see it. - Tyrion II, ADWD

+.+.+

Pentos. Well, it was not King's Landing, that much could be said for it. "Where do whores go?" he heard himself ask.

"Whores are found in brothels here, as in Westeros. You will have no need of such, my little friend. Choose from amongst my servingwomen. None will dare refuse you."

"Slaves?" the dwarf asked pointedly.

The fat man stroked one of the prongs of his oiled yellow beard, a gesture Tyrion found remarkably obscene. "Slavery is forbidden in Pentos, by the terms of the treaty the Braavosi imposed on us a hundred years ago. Still, they will not refuse you."

That's strange, because Illyrio has Unsullied guards, and the Unsullied are slave soldiers.

The last was chained, the others guarded. The guards were plump, their faces as smooth as babies' bottoms, and every man of them wore a spiked bronze cap. Tyrion knew eunuchs when he saw them.

Once again, just because you give it a different name. . . Daenerys.

Anyway, Tyrion asks five people where whores go in this chapter. The only time he gets an answer, he's told brothels.

+.+.+

A light wind was riffling the waters of the pool below, all around the naked swordsman. It reminded him of how Tysha would riffle his hair during the false spring of their marriage, before he helped his father's guardsmen rape her.

I thought the year of the false spring was 281 AC? Or is he calling his marriage false? But it wasn't.

+.+.+

Tyrion began his explorations with the kitchen, where two fat women and a potboy watched him warily as he helped himself to cheese, bread, and figs. "Good morrow to you, fair ladies," he said with a bow. "Do you know where whores go?" When they did not respond, he repeated the question in High Valyrian, though he had to say courtesan in place of whore. The younger, fatter cook gave him a shrug that time.

The Sailor's Wife is not a courtesan, but that kind of stuck out anyway.

It must also be said that the courtesans of Braavos are renowned throughout the world, yet are all free women, unlike the more famous beauties of the pleasure gardens of Lys or the brothels of Volantis. - TWoIaF

+.+.+

The walls would have shamed any proper castle, and the ornamental iron spikes along the top looked strangely naked without heads to adorn them. Tyrion pictured how his sister's head might look up there, with tar in her golden hair and flies buzzing in and out of her mouth. Yes, and Jaime must have the spike beside her, he decided. No one must ever come between my brother and my sister.

And no one ever will!

I must admit I get excited whenever talk of iron spikes on walls comes up.

+.+.+

The guards were plump, their faces as smooth as babies' bottoms, and every man of them wore a spiked bronze cap. Tyrion knew eunuchs when he saw them. He knew their sort by reputation. They feared nothing and felt no pain, it was said, and were loyal to their masters unto death. I could make good use of a few hundred of mine own, he reflected.

How about eight thousand?

I'm howling at the word masters.

+.+.+

The washerwoman went back to wringing out tunics and hanging them to dry. Tyrion settled on a stone bench with his flagon. "Tell me, how far should I trust Magister Illyrio?" The name made her look up. "That far?" Chuckling, he crossed his stunted legs and took a drink. "I am loath to play whatever part the cheesemonger has in mind for me, yet how can I refuse him? The gates are guarded. Perhaps you might smuggle me out under your skirts? I'd be so grateful; why, I'll even wed you. I have two wives already, why not three? Ah, but where would we live?"

You already have a wife! You can't marry again Tyrion! That's preposterous.

+.+.+

The washerwoman pinned up one of Illyrio's tunics, large enough to double as a sail. "I should be ashamed to think such evil thoughts, you're quite right. Better if I sought the Wall instead. All crimes are wiped clean when a man joins the Night's Watch, they say. Though I fear they would not let me keep you, sweetling. No women in the Watch, no sweet freckly wives to warm your bed at night, only cold winds, salted cod, and small beer. Do you think I might stand taller in black, my lady?" He filled his cup again. "What do you say? North or south? Shall I atone for old sins or make some new ones?"

Including for those who think Tyrion ends up at the Wall.

+.+.+

Tyrion pushed himself off the bench and went to fetch it. As he did, he saw some mushrooms growing up from a cracked paving tile. Pale white they were, with speckles, and red-ribbed undersides dark as blood. The dwarf snapped one off and sniffed it. Delicious, he thought, and deadly.

There were seven of the mushrooms. Perhaps the Seven were trying to tell him something. He picked them all, snatched a glove down from the line, wrapped them carefully, and stuffed them down his pocket.

Sounds like a weirwood tree.

Those poison mushrooms will come up throughout the course of this book, and I have a feeling we'll get great foreshadowing from it.

+.+.+

Tyrion propped himself against the pillows, his head in his hands. "Do I dream, or do you speak the Common Tongue?"

"Yes, my lord. I was bought to please the king." She was blue-eyed and fair, young and willowy.

It took me way too long to realize she meant Viserys and not Aegon. Imagine my face, lol.

+.+.+

"Will my lord want me after he has eaten?" she asked as she was lacing up his boots.

"No. I am done with women." Whores.

The girl took that disappointment too well for his liking. "If m'lord would prefer a boy, I can have one waiting in his bed."

M'lord would prefer his wife. M'lord would prefer a girl named Tysha. "Only if he knows where whores go."

I doubt Tysha's the only wife he's referencing.

+.+.+

She despises me, he realized, but no more than I despise myself. That he had fucked many a woman who loathed the very sight of him, Tyrion Lannister had no doubt, but the others had at least the grace to feign affection. A little honest loathing might be refreshing, like a tart wine after too much sweet.

"I believe I have changed my mind," he told her. "Wait for me abed. Naked, if you please, I'll be a deal too drunk to fumble at your clothing. Keep your mouth shut and your thighs open and the two of us should get on splendidly." He gave her a leer, hoping for a taste of fear, but all she gave him was revulsion. No one fears a dwarf. Even Lord Tywin had not been afraid, though Tyrion had held a crossbow in his hands. "Do you moan when you are being fucked?" he asked the bedwarmer.

"If it please m'lord."

"It might please m'lord to strangle you. That's how I served my last whore. Do you think your master would object? Surely not. He has a hundred more like you, but no one else like me." This time, when he grinned, he got the fear he wanted.

. . .

+.+.+

"I would hope so. She was trained in Lys, where they make an art of love. The king enjoyed her greatly."

"I kill kings, hadn't you heard?" Tyrion smiled evilly over his wine cup. "I want no royal leavings."

Not to soil my girl's name, but that's kind of what Sansa was.

+.+.+

Tyrion speared a goose liver on the point of his knife. No man is as cursed as the kinslayer, he mused, but I could learn to like this hell.

He can't have a good ending. He simply can't.

+.+.+

"Mushrooms," the magister announced, as the smell wafted up. "Kissed with garlic and bathed in butter. I am told the taste is exquisite. Have one, my friend. Have two."

[...]

"In the Seven Kingdoms it is considered a grave breach of hospitality to poison your guest at supper."

"Here as well." Illyrio Mopatis reached for his wine cup. "Yet when a guest plainly wishes to end his own life, why, his host must oblige him, no?" He took a gulp. "Magister Ordello was poisoned by a mushroom not half a year ago. The pain is not so much, I am told. Some cramping in the gut, a sudden ache behind the eyes, and it is done. Better a mushroom than a sword through your neck, is it not so? Why die with the taste of blood in your mouth when it could be butter and garlic?"

At least Myrcella won't suffer?

+.+.+

He was not brave enough to take cold steel to his own belly, but a bite of mushroom would not be so hard. That frightened him more than he could say. "You mistake me," he heard himself say.

"Is it so? I wonder. If you would sooner drown in wine, say the word and it shall be done, and quickly. Drowning cup by cup wastes time and wine both."

Who's drinking poisoned wine?

+.+.+

The serving men brought out a heron stuffed with figs, veal cutlets blanched with almond milk, creamed herring, candied onions, foul-smelling cheeses, plates of snails and sweetbreads, and a black swan in her plumage. Tyrion refused the swan, which reminded him of a supper with his sister.

That's not the only person I'm reminded of.

+.+.+

"Kinslaying is dry work. It gives a man a thirst."

The fat man's eyes glittered like the gemstones on his fingers. "There are those in Westeros who would say that killing Lord Lannister was merely a good beginning."

"They had best not say it in my sister's hearing, or they will find themselves short a tongue."

+.+.+

The dwarf tore a loaf of bread in half. "And you had best be careful what you say of my family, magister. Kinslayer or no, I am a lion still."

Is there a more deranged family in this story?

Don't answer that.

+.+.+

"You Westerosi are all the same. You sew some beast upon a scrap of silk, and suddenly you are all lions or dragons or eagles. I can take you to a real lion, my little friend. The prince keeps a pride in his menagerie. Would you like to share a cage with them?"

✨ foreshadowing ✨

+.+.+

The lords of the Seven Kingdoms did make rather much of their sigils, Tyrion had to admit. "Very well," he conceded. "A Lannister is not a lion. Yet I am still my father's son, and Jaime and Cersei are mine to kill."

Just point her in the right direction, Tyrion.

+.+.+

Tyrion was beginning to suspect that a certain freckled washerwoman knew more of the Common Speech than she pretended. "My niece Myrcella is in Dorne, as it happens. And I have half a mind to make her a queen."

Illyrio smiled as his serving men spooned out bowls of black cherries in sweet cream for them both. "What has this poor child done to you that you would wish her dead?"

"Even a kinslayer is not required to slay all his kin," said Tyrion, wounded. "Queen her, I said. Not kill her."

The cheesemonger spooned up cherries. "In Volantis they use a coin with a crown on one face and a death's-head on the other. Yet it is the same coin. To queen her is to kill her. Dorne might rise for Myrcella, but Dorne alone is not enough. If you are as clever as our friend insists, you know this."

Tyrion looked at the fat man with new interest. He is right on both counts. To queen her is to kill her. And I knew that. "Futile gestures are all that remain to me. This one would make my sister weep bitter tears, at least."

If you knew that, why did you keep entertaining it?

Tyrion would sooner have gone to Dorne. Myrcella is older than Tommen, by Dornish law the Iron Throne is hers. I will help her claim her rights, as Prince Oberyn suggested.

At least in Dorne they speak the Common Tongue. Like Dornish food and Dornish law, Dornish speech was spiced with the flavors of the Rhoyne, but a man could comprehend it. Dorne, yes, Dorne for me. He crawled into his bunk, clutching that thought like a child with a doll.

"I have a niece in Sunspear, did I tell you? I could make rather a lot of mischief in Dorne with Myrcella. I could set my niece and nephew at war, wouldn't that be droll?"

+.+.+

Magister Illyrio wiped sweet cream from his mouth with the back of a fat hand. "The road to Casterly Rock does not go through Dorne, my little friend. Nor does it run beneath the Wall. Yet there is such a road, I tell you."

"I am an attainted traitor, a regicide, and kinslayer." This talk of roads annoyed him. Does he think this is a game?

Lol.

"This is no dream," he promised her. It is real, all of it, he thought, the wars, the intrigues, the great bloody game, and me in the center of it . . . me, the dwarf, the monster, the one they scorned and laughed at, but now I hold it all, the power, the city, the girl. This was what I was made for, and gods forgive me, but I do love it . . . - Tyrion VII, ACOK

+.+.+

"What one king does, another may undo. In Pentos we have a prince, my friend. He presides at ball and feast and rides about the city in a palanquin of ivory and gold. Three heralds go before him with the golden scales of trade, the iron sword of war, and the silver scourge of justice. On the first day of each new year he must deflower the maid of the fields and the maid of the seas." Illyrio leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Yet should a crop fail or a war be lost, we cut his throat to appease the gods and choose a new prince from amongst the forty families."

During a council?

+.+.+

"Are your Seven Kingdoms so different? There is no peace in Westeros, no justice, no faith … and soon enough, no food. When men are starving and sick of fear, they look for a savior."

He's talking about Aegon, but I still feel the need to remind everyone that dragons plant no food trees.

+.+.+

"Not Stannis. Nor Myrcella." The yellow smile widened. "Another. Stronger than Tommen, gentler than Stannis, with a better claim than the girl Myrcella. A savior come from across the sea to bind up the wounds of bleeding Westeros."

"Fine words." Tyrion was unimpressed. "Words are wind. Who is this bloody savior?"

"A dragon." The cheesemonger saw the look on his face at that, and laughed. "A dragon with three heads."

Tricky author. Daenerys has the next chapter, but Illyrio will escort Tyrion to Griff in his next chapter.

Final thoughts:

Ugh.

36 down, 13 to go. :(

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #tyrion i

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sillypelagicredcrab · 2 years

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Rowan Desai

Half-Elf Paladin

Mommy issues? Daddy issues? Issues? All of the above. He is the phrase “tall, dark, and handsome” personified, but with additional adjectives added on like “isolated” and “probably kind of racist.”

After his father left and his mother died, rowan left his grandmother’s small cottage to pursue revenge (and alcohol) (and women) (and men). his religion and pursuit of vengeance has driven him to stick with a rather unlikely and possibly insane group of people. (He likes them (mostly) but he has to keep up the brooding act otherwise who even is he)

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casspurrjoybell-18 · 5 months

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Worthless - Chapter 17 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Asher

I looked at Rory, surprise written on my face as he declared the man in the picture to be the brother of the gingers I've come to know. They were around the pack-house a lot. Though Liam was older by a year, Rowan acted like the older one, always trying to take care of Liam. They did a lot of manual labor but I've gone on patrol more than once with them. They were nice people. Serious but took the time to enjoy life. I really enjoyed patrolling with them, learning much from the two experts. To think I may very well be related to them, to have actual living family? It was almost too much. My eyes went to the picture in my hand.

It was old, the color fading while the edges were wrinkled and torn. On the back, written in flowing letters was 'Asher November 7th.' The woman in the image was beautiful. Her dark, flowing hair falling well past her shoulders, bring out the blue in her eyes. She was gorgeous, smiling down at a small, sleeping form. The man in question was leaning down, pressing his lips to the head of the infant that I knew to be myself. His eyes were full of love and happiness. He was ruggedly handsome, unshaven and red hair on the shaggy side. Now that I thought about it, he did, in fact, look frightfully similar to Liam and Rowan.

'C-could he be my f-father?'

"I don't know," Kade said, kissing my temple, trying to comfort me.

"But we'll find out. I promise you."

I nodded, looking at the other object in the box. It was my mother's keepsake, where she kept her most valuable things in. Besides the photo, there was a necklace with a ring on it. The inside engraved with the word 'Forever'. There were a few old coins as well as a seashell and a few other knickknacks alongside it. I replaced the photo, hugging the box to my chest once more as I tried to remember her, tried to remember anything but that night. The blurry image of being swung between two people but that was it. A lone tear escaped as I failed to recall anything concrete. The feeling of Kade's arms tightening around me was comforting. I pressed against him, resting my head on his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady, lulling me away from the pain.

'I'm okay now.'

"Are you sure?"

I nodded, moving to stand. Kade helped me up, giving me one last hug before Rory lead us out of the room. The rest of the house wasn't as bad as the bedroom but the smell was still present. Kade pressed me against his side as we walked, shielding me from the unwanted images. The ride back was quiet. Even Rory, who hated silence, kept to his own thoughts. My mind raced as scenarios played through my head. The fear that Liam and Rowan would hate me was my biggest concern. I valued their friendship and didn't want to lose it.

My heart began to pound as we pulled up to the house, collecting our bags after we got out. The pack-house never seemed more frightening. It was quiet as we entered, making it seem even more ominous. We separated, Rory going off to put his things away as I followed Kade to do the same, still clutching the box to me as we entered the family room.

"If you don't want to tell them, then I'll stand beside you but I don't think Liam and Rowan are going to be mad at you," Kade stated after setting the bags on the couch, staring at me.

I avoided his gaze. He was wrong. They would be angry, furious, at me. He didn't know what I did, no one here did. They would all look at me with disapproval, with disgust. I sighed shaking my head.

'They'll be angry.'

"Angry about what?"

I jumped, whipping around as I spotted Rowan at the doorway, Liam beside him. A whimper slipped out and I hid the box behind me, lowering my gaze.

"Shh, love. Don't be afraid, you know they won't hurt you. They wouldn't dream of it and I wouldn't allow it even if they did," Kade tried to calm me, rubbing his hand up and down my back.

Liam and Rowan approached cautiously, a smile on their faces to try and show me they meant no harm.

"You can tell us, Asher. We won't be mad at you," Liam whispered, resting his hand on my arm.

My arms stiffly pulled the box from behind me, avoiding their gaze as I presented it to them. With trembling fingers, I opened it. I flinched as I heard their intake of breath. My gaze lifted, catching sight as their eyes became glassy as Liam reached for one of the contents. The photo shook in his hand, a soft whimper leaving him as Rowan gripped his other arm.

"H-how?" Rowan managed to croak out, his eyes darting between Kade and myself.

Kade looked to me, silently asking permission and I nodded.

"We drove past Asher's old home. It was in one of the bedrooms."

I stood quietly as Kade told them everything, even my last memory of my mother. They all kept looking at me, trying to judge my reaction but I just stared at the wall. I didn't look even when I heard a pair of growls rumbling in the brothers' chests.

"This means that bastard..."

My heart leaped in my chest before I realized he spoke of my father or at least, who I had thought was my father.

"Is the reason our brother..." Liam cut off with a sob.

"The reason he killed himself..." Rowan finished in a whisper.

I thought back to what Kade said about mates, how they would die without the other one. I took a breath, preparing myself for whatever was to come.

'I'm the reason your brother is dead.'

They froze before slowly turning to face me.

I could see that they didn't believe me. Though it hurt to remember and the thought of them hating me almost brought me to tears.

I needed to tell them.

'I don't remember much, only that my mother was human. She had helped me control my shift, fearing what they would do to me if they found out. The man who I thought was my father was a soldier.'

'The first time we met was on my second birthday. Mother kept her affair a secret, passing me off as his kid but he didn't really like me. It was like he knew I wasn't his. She told me to never, ever shift in front of him but I just wanted his approval so bad.'

I barked out a harsh laugh.

'He didn't react the way I thought he would. Mother saved me from his knife and told him we were leaving b-but that night he... if I had just listened... then no one... no one would have died.'

I ducked my head, waiting for something, anything. Seconds ticked by without even an intake of breath. Hesitantly, I raised my gaze, immediately seeing the sorrow on their faces. I flinched when Liam reached for me. He paused but proceeded to lay his had on my shoulder.

"It is not your fault."

Rowan and Kade Nelson nodded in agreement.

"It is the man who dared to lay a finger on his wife. It is the man who thought he was better than a child to the point of beating him. It is the man who drove our brother to suicide. It is the man we will kill."

I looked at the brothers, taking in the anger, anger that wasn't directed towards me. I hadn't ever felt hatred for that man, always accepting whatever he did but he had hurt them, he had hurt Riley and Fallon and he had hurt my mother. I nodded in response. A fire, a small fire but a fire nonetheless, burning inside me.

"Well this is all well and good but we don't have no clue where he even is."

I jumped, turning to see Rory leaning against the doorway, a solemn expression on his face. Kade sighed.

"Yeah. Though we've continued scouting the area, there hasn't been any activity."

"Where's Alpha Eric?" Rowan asked, looking at Rory for an answer.

"He's looking into some drug operation in the UK for another pack. Eclipse."

At the name of the drug, they tensed. Kade saw the confusion on my face and turned to me.

"Eclipse is really rare. It's one of the few drugs that actually affects werewolves. The danger is that it's highly addictive, making wolves a danger not only to themselves but those around them if they don't get their fix. Users are easy to tell. They're hair and fur turn a white color while their eyes black. The darker the eyes, the closer they are to death."

His brows furrowed as he thought.

"Hopefully we can stop it from coming to the U.S."

"Well, it's only a rumor. Eric will be back in a couple days. Hopefully it's false information."

That seemed to reassure them and I could see them visibly relax.

"Well, yeah, if you know about it, when Kade didn't, then it's probably not anything."

Liam stuck his tongue out at Rory. He clutched his chest, ever the dramatic.

"Oh. How you wound me, Sir. Alas, it is too much, so with tears upon my lips, I bid you farewell from this life," he said, collapsing to the ground and throwing his arm over his face with a gasp.

"Rory," Kade chuckled.

He peaked out from under his arm.

"Yes?"

"You're an idiot."

He grinned

"At least I'm hot," he said and I snorted.

'Yeah, a hot mess.'

The screech of outrage that sounded was inhuman. I was already running by the time Rory launched himself after me. We ran around the house, collapsing on the floor an hour later, still laughing our butts off.

'I've never felt so free in all my life.'

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jargonautical · 6 months

Text

The Curate's Torc

ALFRISCOMBE VICARAGE, 1795

REVEREND MERRETT WAS always delighted to receive a visit from his friend Elias. Goodness only knows where the man came from but every so often he would appear with a cheery ‘Just passing!’ and stay for several hours drinking endless cups of tea and sharing tall tales of his travels. Who knows, some of it may even have been true?

Certainly the housekeeper didn’t believe a word of it, depositing a fresh pot of tea and a plate of macaroons on the table with a disapproving sniff. The curate resolved to have a private word with her later; it wouldn’t do for his guests to feel unwelcome. And this guest in particular too! the only decently educated man for miles around, someone with whom he could discuss the Germanic folklore translation he’d been working on and the antiquities he acquired last month. This new piece, a Celtic standing stone, he had shipped up from Cornwall and immediately placed in the corner of his sheltered garden in hopes it might attract some visitors from what he delicately called ‘the other realm’.

That’s the other reason he liked Elias. The man didn't sneer or dismiss his wish as childish, as so many of his peers might. He nodded sagely, steepling his fingers and touching them to his lips, and agreed that such a splendid object was sure to catch the eye of the Shining Ones. He went further, saying that if it were to be placed near still water, and perhaps some other treasures added to the lure, he might find himself playing proud host to a water spirit or two. Like the magpie, he said, they adore to line their nests with treasures that shine. Certain metals that keep their lustre were held to be the greatest draw.

An intriguing idea; but the curate secretly wondered if that might be taking the notion too far. A curate’s income didn’t stretch to treasures in silver and gold, not to the extent that he could afford to leave them lying around in the garden. He turned the conversation back to his progress with the translation and accepted with delight several suggestions on the precise meaning of a passage he’d been finding troublesome.

In the weeks following the visit however, he found himself distracted from his research by a new project; directing the small brook at the foot of his garden into a pond. Framed by two trees on the border with the lane, an elder and a rowan that predated the vicarage itself, the tiny brook filled in the hollow dug out by the gardener in less than a day.

With his treasured face stone sunk into a deep hole at the far corner, only the very top visible through the irises and rushes planted around the edge to give the shy spirit some privacy, before too long he had as handsome a dryad’s abode as he could wish for. As a final flourish he gently lowered a small bronze torc to the dark water, guiltily mumbling a few words of welcome to whomever might find them and be pleased enough to stay.

#somewhere to be #fantasy #fiction #a chapter at a time #books #booklr #reading #faerie #storygraph #goodreads

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elfboyeros · 2 years

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Faithed Encounter

Here is the rewrite of how Indigo and Calvin met, and the start of rewriting Shelter. Enjoy!Art in this chapter by @jj-pines/ @pinetreejam

Indigo and Calvin's first official meeting; 7 years before Rowan's Enrollment

Calvin either join Bridgehid College at the best time or the worst time. He may be an extrovert but being in a new place with those he has never met, makes him feel overwhelmed. He’s only supposed to be the blacksmith, making all the mages and alchemists associated with the college weapons and equipment, and maybe the resident healer. He didn’t think he would get invited to a grand social event, but here we are, Sir Calvin Bookstone being accosted by a sea of “possible suitors,” attempting to be the next person in his bed, which did not please the handsome healer/blacksmith. He’s not fond of hearing the same lines over and over again, along with the touching, he is happy for his cloak now.

“Thank Diancecht,” he huffed, holding on to the balcony railing, “maybe I should have married Diem, then I wouldn’t get hit on so much.”

“Merde, il y a trop de gens,” a silk France voice sighed.

“Right,” Calvin chuckled, “I don’t know so many people were a part of this university.”

He looked over to the opening of the balcony, which made his brain stop. The woman he was greeted with was tiny, pale, and inhuman. Pointed ears, pixie cut hair color light turquoise, with two long pieces in the front that framed her face, one of those pieces (the right one), was a lavender color. Her eyes are this beautiful dark blue color and held a soft glow in the dark of night. She wore a pink and white ombre, long, off-the-shoulder dress. She looked so elegant yet is in something so simple.

“I am surprised someone else knows French,” she chuckled with a smile.

“Mhm, I like learning new languages,” Calvin replied, as she approached him, he could see her many tattoos and scars that were on her shoulders and upper chest.

“You are the new magic and alchemy blacksmith, non?”

“Yeah, I am also that new healer it seems, Calvin Bookstone.”

“Surprised we have not seen each other yet; I am the new magical law and ethics professor, Indigo Corals.”

Calvin took her small hand and kissed her knuckles, “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she sighed with a smile.

She’s ethereal as if she is a goddess, he’s being drawn to her. He seems different than all the other women that he has encountered this evening, “What has you out here other than the people,” Indigo asked, beginning to approach the stairs of the balcony leading to the gardens below, he can see angel wing tattoo, on her back, poking out of the top of her dress.

“I’m a bit overwhelmed,” Calvin answered, having this feeling to follow her.

“Introverted?”

“I don’t believe so,” He replied, “I think it is the amount of people I don’t know.”

“Mhm,” Indigo hummed, walking along the dark cobblestone path with her hands behind her back, “so if you knew more people you would be in your element?”

“Yes.”

“Have you even introduced yourself to anyone,” she asked, turning to look at him as he walked behind her.

She smirked as his tan face became flushed, “one person.”

“One person,” Indigo laughed

“Well, two people,” Calvin replied, “I met one of the alchemy professors tonight and his husband, thank you very much!”

“Sloan and Casper,” Indigo chuckled, “I have known Sloan for ages, we were in classes together when we were scholars here.”

“He seems a bit older then I am,” he remarked.

“Calling me old,” she asked with a smirk.

“No, no, no,” Calvin gasped, “I didn’t mean it that way!”

“Calm down, big boy,” she chuckled, “I am just a young study. Sloan is 5 years older than I am.”

“Mhm,” Calvin hummed.

“And if I can remember what admiration said, you are 2 years older than I am.”

“So, you are a young professor, who has studied here, and you are close with the admiration,” Calvin observed, “you are a very interesting one, Ms. Corals.”

She approached the gazebo in the middle of the garden, she looked so goddess-like and made Calvin shiver, “I try,” she chuckled, as she walked to stand on the white wood of the gazebo, “your quiet interesting yourself.”

“How so?”

"Well," Indigo sighed, as she began to stroll around the gazebo, running her hands along the railing as Calvin seemed to follow her but on the outside of the gazebo, "you come from a nuclear family, mother, father, big sister, and little brother. You seemed to travel to Marquis island on a whim, all the way from Luxembourg -ha, that's why you know French. You were a nurse on the mainland and were on track to be a doctor. You seemed to have everything before relocating here, you even have a fiancé whose name is Die-"

"Had a fiancé," Calvin interrupted, "Diem and I are not together anymore, much to my mother's dismay."

"Can I ask why," Indigo prodded, "was it misunderstanding, falling out of love, or something worse?"

"She..." he paused for a moment, although Indigo seemed intrigued and concerned, "she cheated on me," he let out a laugh, "among other things."

"I'm so sorry..."“What makes it worse is that everyone around me knew, my mother, my sister, her parents, our friends, and no one told me,” he sighed.

“Will this Diem is very foolish,” Indigo remarked, crossing her arms atop the railing and resting her chin on them, “to let someone like you go. If I had you, I wouldn’t let you go.”

Now that has piqued Calvin’s interest, “if you had me?”

Indigo nodded and she stood straight, “Anyone would be lucky to have as a partner. You are the type of person that is kind, loving, gentleman-like, and a bit protective, just based on what I know,” she explained, descending the gazebo steps, “that’s not a partner I would like to let go.”

“You sound like the people inside,” Calvin remarked, becoming slightly annoyed.

“Well, I didn’t say all that just to bed you,” Indigo replied, standing in front of him, with her side to him, “I say all that because it’s true.”

Calvin raised an eyebrow, she looks like she is challenging him with her narrow eyes and crossed arms, which has a part of him intrigued, “If I wanted to have sex with you, I wouldn’t be only stroking your ego. I am not that type of woman.”

“What would you do if you were trying to bed me?”

Indigo smirked, stepping incredibly close to him, “I would make sure I had you consent and then possibly make it happen, or maybe tease you until you get the hint and make the move yourself.”

“And how would you make it happen,” he asked, she is continuing to intrigue him.

“Is that you giving consent, or you simply asking,” she questioned.

“Both.”

The young mage hummed, slipping under his cape, and running her soft hand slowly up his arm, “how much muscle does one need to be a blacksmith,” she asked innocently.

Her single touch is almost too much, “It’s not about muscle it is about skill,” he said, surprised that he didn’t struggle or stutter.

“So they are for show,” Indigo asked, her other hand running up his other arm.

“Mostly to pick up little ladies like you.”

She chuckled, and he’s falling apart, “mhm, I’ll allow you to call my little if I am allowed to kiss you.”

“Is this a part of making it happen?”

“It can be, or maybe I just want to kiss you.”

“Yes,” he sighed.

It was intended to be short, a simple small kiss. Something that would leave him wanting more, but Calvin isn’t about to let her go now. It’s shocking how a man that isn’t too keen on starting another relationship is now being enthralled by this tiny, inhuman, mage woman. She’s cold as he wraps his arms around her, simply from the winter air, but he pulls her in closer and holds her tighter as if he is trying to protect her from something.

When she pulls away from him, his internally disappointed, but ever the gentleman he lets go, still keeping his hands on her waist, “I…I’m,” Indigo chuckled, hands planted on his chest, “I’m sorry.”

“why are you apologizing,” Calvin laughed.

“Because I want to do this properly,” she sighed, “date and all.”

“Is that a part of making it happen?”

She laughed as his hands leave her waist and go for the strings on his cloak, “not always.”

“Oh, so I’m special,” he remarked with a smirk, draping the black and pink cloak over her shoulders.

“Most definitely.”

“I look forward to it.”

They smile at one another, before heading back up to the balcony, “when can I expect to be wooed properly,” Calvin asked.

“If I told you that then it wouldn’t be as fun would it now,” Indigo answered, “I know all the places you stay, I’ll be able to find you, and return your cloak.”

He grabbed her hand before intertwining their fingers “I am not worried about the cloak,” leaning down to be level with her ear, “but if that’s the reason I see you again,” he whispered, kissing her cheek, “until then.”

With that he left her, spotting Sloan and Casper and beginning to talk with them, while Indigo went back to her parents and aunt, “where did you get this,” her candy red-haired aunt asked, taking a break from watching her brother and sister-in-law dance together, “I didn’t make this.”

“Non, you didn’t, Antoinette,” Indigo replied, “the new healer gave to me.”

Indigo pointed slightly towards the mixed man, holding a bright smile and light pink eyes, talking to Sloan, talking with his hands and more so his body during the conversation, his long black curls moving ever so slightly as his body shifted. He’s dressed in all black with his chest exposed because of his shirt’s crisscross pattern in the front. He’s muscular and looks intimidating almost, looks nothing like the healers Indigo has known, “thought he had a fiancé,” Antoinette remarked.

“He doesn’t not anymore,” Indigo simply replied, “and she is not very intelligent to let him go.”

“Oh,” Antoinette looked over at her cherished niece was holding a smirk still staring at the blacksmith-healer, “you have the same look that your father had when he saw Amethea from the first time. You’ve already claimed him haven’t you.”

“Not necessarily, Cuchulainn is just being kind to me,” the mage replied.

Antoinette chuckled, “just like your father.”

“I guess we both just know what we want.”

“And what is that?”

“Will it’s more then a want it’s something that will happen.”

“Again, which is?”

“I will marry that man!”

#shelter #original work #original writing #oc #oc x oc #indigo #calvin #indigo x calvin #shelter indigo #shelter calvin #shelter rewrite #elfboyeros #Bridgehid Secrets #the bridgehid preludes

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