#ft the court of terrasen

[leiawritesstories]

Who Gave My Wife Liquor?

Rowaelin Month 2023, Day 20: Drunken Antics

y'all know i cannot resist this prompt 🤭🤭 so enjoy some fun drunken shenanigans involving the whole court of Terrasen plus Fenrys, Dorian, and some potentially bad decisions (but no angst i promise). fair warning: it's total crack, i honestly don't think it makes any sense, but it's (maybe) fun

also based off a prompt sent to @rowaelinprompts: "drunk and clingy Aelin" ;))

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, intoxication, silly goofy times

Enjoy!!!

@rowaelinscourt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin was absolutely beaming as she descended the stairs and headed into the well-lit great room of the castle's private wing, where a fire was blazing merrily in the hearth and laughter spilled from the wide-open doors. Her heart was full twice over at the sound of her friends' laughter--they had all been through so much in the last ten years, and the fact that they could still laugh was a miracle in and of itself.

"You're late!" Dorian called, catching her arm and leading her into the informal party. "And about three drinks behind, Your Majesty." Grinning, his sapphire eyes just beginning to glaze over, he grabbed the nearest flask and poured her a cup, tapping his drink to hers. "Cheers!"

"And you have shit tolerance, Your Majesty," she teased, downing the short glass of wine in one go. Dorian rolled his eyes, and she laughed. "Lighten up, Dor. Not all of us have your youthful ability to recover." Dorian, as a human, had less tolerance than the Fae and the shifter and Elide, who could drink Lorcan under the table, but he also recovered rapidly from his hangovers.

"Again with the you're an old man jokes?" Lorcan clicked his tongue, smirking. "Wasn't it you who kept telling me to get creative?"

"That would be your wife, actually." Aelin raised her refilled cup to the hulking, dark-haired male, whose face flushed bright scarlet at her innuendo.

"Galathynius," he grunted, tipping the contents of his glass down his throat.

"Don't be so put off, darling," Elide soothed her husband. "Aelin's just grumpy because you made me scream so loud last night we woke the whole castle up."

"And I'll do it again tonight," he winked.

Fenrys spewed wine all over himself. "Fucking gods!" he shrieked, pretending to be mortified. "You lot and your insatiable se--"

"You're just as bad, Fenny," Aelin smirked. "Or should I say, good boy?"

The normally roguish blonde blushed bright crimson and said nothing, choosing to grab the nearest ounce glass of liquor and tip it down his throat. "How?!" he demanded, both mortified and genuinely curious to discover how Aelin had heard that little pet name.

She beamed innocently and threw back a shot of her own. "That's for me to know and you--and your pretty boy--to find out."

"Pretty boy?" Lysandra wheezed, slinging her arm around Aelin's shoulders. "Holy rutting gods, Fen, I knew you weren't particular in bed, but I never would have guessed you'd want to be the one taking orders."

Dorian was conspicuously silent.

Observant as ever, Aelin turned towards the young king, a smile so friendly and approachable that it was truly terrifying slipping across her face. "Dor, darling."

"Oh fuck," he muttered.

"Have you been satisfied with Lord Moonbeam's visits to your kingdom?" The enquiry was perfectly polite, even diplomatic, but the smirk on Aelin's lips added a twist to the innocent words.

Dorian picked up the closest flask and drained it.

Fenrys snickered. "Don't be shy, Majesty. We won't--ah!" His teasing was abruptly cut off with a soft yelp. Dorian flicked the blonde Fae a look heated enough to boil water.

Aelin had a very good idea just what (phantom) hands had silenced Fenrys before he could make an incredibly ribald remark. "I see."

"For a queen so revered, Ae, you have no propriety," Aedion fake-sighed, reaching across his cousin to grab the glass bottle of whiskey that had definitely come from the back of the cellar.

"Says the one who cavorted his merry way through the mountains," she retorted, passing her glass to be filled. "Say, how is Kyllian doing these days?"

"He's fine," Aedion said, too quickly.

Lysandra grinned and curled herself close to Aedion's side, whispering something into his ear that made him choke on his mouthful of whiskey and splutter the aged liquor all over his shirt.

She cackled, tears of merriment spilling out of her bright green eyes. "There's no need to worry, Aed. We're all friends here, no?"

"How sweet," Elide crooned. She pinched her husband's cheek. "See, Lor? We're all friends."

"Lorcan doesn't have friends," Rowan said, completely deadpan. He'd been lounging in a comfortable armchair, admiring his wife and sipping on his glass of liquor like the civilized old male he was.

Lorcan snorted. "Fuck you."

"Let's keep the past in the past, shall we?" Rowan smirked over the rim of his glass.

For the second time that night, Lorcan's tan face flushed violently red, and the room exploded into laughter.

"I knew it!" Aelin cried triumphantly, pointing at Lorcan. "I knew you and my buzzard were lovers!"

"Best he's ever had," Lorcan mumbled, barely audible.

Elide gasped for breath through her peals of laughter, clutching at her chest and clinging to Lorcan's broad shoulder for support. "We need to get you drunk more often, love," she wheezed.

"The hell you do," he grumbled. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

"I have a GREAT idea!" Fenrys announced, rising unsteadily to his feet and brandishing his bottle of wine.

"You absolutely do not," absolutely everyone else chorused.

"First of all, that'sh' fuckin' rude!" He pretended to pout. "An' shecon'ly, it's a great idea!" He took a long drink from the bottle and pointed right at Lorcan. "Lorky, I dare you."

"You dare me to what, Moonie?" Lorcan shot the younger male an insolent smirk.

Fenrys beamed, which was both hilarious and terrifying. "Clothes off, an' pose as a sh-sht-stashue for three minutes."

"Fine." Lorcan drained the rest of his drink, stood up, shucked his clothes except for his undershorts, and strolled out into the hall. The others followed him, laughing and playfully ogling.

Elide wolf-whistled. "Don't be shy, Lor, pose like one of the ancient sculptures." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Most of us have seen you naked, you know."

Lorcan sighed, and Aelin swore she heard him mutter something about so much for keeping secrets under his breath. "I'm not drunk enough for that, Li."

"Pity," Aelin snickered. "You'd make such a well-endowed sculpture."

"Careful, Rowan," Lorcan drawled. "Your wife's objectifying other males again."

"Who gave my wife liquor?" Rowan called, laughing. "She only does that when she's drunk."

"You're mean," Aelin teased, frowning theatrically at her grumpy buzzard.

"Thought you liked me mean," he murmured, the words a wicked promise that set her blood alight. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and laid his hand against the curve of her ass, squeezing just enough to make her inhale.

"No!" Aedion yelped, throwing his hands over his face. "Shit, I'm standing right here!"

Lysandra doubled over with laughter, throwing a wink over at Aelin. "Look what you've done to your poor innocent little cousin," she giggled, unable to get all the words out without losing her grip on her merriment.

Aelin snorted. "Lys, if Aedy is innocent, then I'm a virgin priestess."

Lys wiped tears from her eyes. "All right, you--is Fenrys naked?"

Yes. Yes he was.

Completely undressed, Fenrys sprinted down the hall and back, grinning like a schoolboy when he reached the others again. "I didn't fall over!" he crowed, exuberant.

"Didn't stand up, either," Aelin muttered, half to herself.

Rowan coughed, a deep laugh billowing out of his chest. "Give him some slack, Fireheart," he laughed. "Moonie here is a little too drunk to perform as quickly as he usually does."

Fenrys shrieked in protest. "I perform longly!"

"Tha'sh'not a word, Fen," Dorian drawled, his words slurring together.

"Neither is anything the two of you are about to say to each other," Rowan whispered into Aelin's ear.

She around and pressed her face into his chest to stifle the fit of laughter that made her whole body shake. "You and your godsdamn impeccable timing," she gasped once she'd regained her breath.

Her husband winked. "I try."

Slowly, their dear friends began to disperse, first Fenrys and Dorian, the two leaning on each other for support but still staggering, then Elide and Lorcan, and finally Aedion and Lysandra. Aelin looked around the room at the empty glasses and bottles and flasks left on tables and couches. "Should we--"

"Later." Without blinking, Rowan swept her up into his arms. "Right now, you need to go to bed."

"Is that a promise, buzzard?" She looped her arms effortlessly around his neck, lowered her lashes, and smiled lazily up at him, sending a hazy image of slick skin and dancing flames into his mind.

He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. "Don't tease me, princess." His voice dropped to a thick rumble, the way it always did when she'd pushed just the right buttons. In a blur of Fae speed, he whisked them upstairs to their rooms, kicked the door shut, and laid her gently on the bed.

And she promptly fell asleep.

Chuckling softly, Rowan slipped Aelin's shoes off, changed into his nightclothes, splashed some water on his face, and slipped into bed, curling himself around her. She sighed and went boneless against him, her breaths deep and rhythmic. In moments, he was asleep as well, following his queen into dreams as he did every night.

~~~

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[shyvioletcat]

I’d like to place a request for Aelin singing Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars and Rowan overhearing it (you decide if it’s intentional or her singing in the shower or drunk karaoke hehe) in Striking Matches of course 😉 since that hasn’t happened yet

cont: Oops wait I always forget it’s technically by Mark Ronson ft Bruno Mars ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ my bad it’s a collab

I went with something different, but let’s be real... Aelin would just about sing this song every chance she gets.

So Timeline wise, this so just after they get together. It’s probably been a month and a half since he busted her door.

Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

The fire alarm ringing through the school gym had the kids in a panic, it even took a few moments for Aelin to get her own feelings under control. But when her kids had flocked to her, their scared faces wide-eyed, she pulled herself together. When she had volunteered to chaperone the Halloween dance this is not what she expected. 

Her and the other teachers ushered the kids outside, not even a trace of smoke to be found but still they got all the kids out to the car park. It was soon apparent that some cheeky troublemaker, probably urged on by their peers, had pulled the alarm and there was no real threat of fire. But they had to follow protocol and that meant the greater portion of the student body from grades 4-6 were huddled in the car park —all in their costumes— waiting for the firefighters to turn up to give the official all clear. The poor things were getting cold in the brisk October air and still nervous after all the drama. Aelin wasn’t feeling particularly warm herself in her Alice in Wonderland costume, the striped tights at least were offering her some protection from the cold. 

So Aelin did the first thing she could think of. 

Turning her phone full volume she led a dance party in the empty spaces of the parking lot. She was dancing to hype the kids up, most likely looking like a dork as she did the sprinkler for the umpteenth just as the fire engine pulled up. The team unloaded from the vehicle very quickly, Lorcan barely gave the excited children a second glance, but Aelin’s students were thrilled to see Rowan again and he gave them a wide smile and a wave. Fenrys directed a thumbs up to her in approval of her dance moves before he waved to the kids as well, giving them some finger guns to top it off.

Another song played through and the whining of the alarm stopped and everyone cheered. Lorcan appeared again and went to clear things with the principal then the others started filing out. Out of nowhere an idea struck Aelin, a song that seemed too perfect to pass up in the moment. So she unlocked her phone, scrolling through until she found the song she wanted. 

The poppy vocalising at the intro of the song started and she made sure to keep at least one eye of Rowan as everyone started dancing. She saw the twins share a look and then they were laughing. Gavriel was just shaking his head. 

This hit, that ice cold

Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold

This one for them hood girls

Them good girls straight masterpieces

Aelin sang along and somewhere she heard Lysandra cackling. 

Stylin', wilin', livin' it up in the city

Got Chucks on with Saint Laurent

Gotta kiss myself, I'm so pretty

I'm too hot –– hot damn

Aelin pointed at Rowan who was trying his damndest not to smile. He was failing. 

Called a police and a fireman

I'm too hot –– hot damn

Make a dragon wanna retire man

I'm too hot –– hot damn

Say my name you know who I am

I'm too hot –– hot damn

And my band 'bout that money, break it down

Aelin wiggling her shoulders ridiculously at him had him breaking and he laughed. By then Rowan had reached and took her by the hand, spinning her a few times –– her apron and skirts fanning out. The kids, meanwhile, were going insane. 

When Rowan stopped the spinning Aelin’s hands landed on his shoulders. 

“Don’t you think this song is a little inappropriate for the little ones?” He said. 

“I suppose.” Aelin sighed and changed the song, a chorus of disappointed protests sounding. “But I just couldn’t resist.”

A terse Whitethorn came from the direction of the fire engine, making both Aelin and Rowan look over. The rest of the team was loaded back up ready to head back to the station. Aelin linked her arm with Rowan and handed her phone off to Lysandra so she could keep the party going while the executives decided what to do next. 

“Will you come by for breakfast tomorrow? I bought a fresh box of toaster waffles,” Aelin asked, leaning close to leech his warmth. 

“Those things taste like cardboard,” Rowan complained. 

Aelin just she rolled her eyes. “Fine, come for the company then.” 

“I think I’d rather eat the cardboard,” Rowan replied, the corners of his mouth betraying him as they quirked upwards. 

“Remind me again why I agreed to make us a thing?” Aelin said as she let go him and Rowan put one foot on the step of the turck then leaned in closer to her. 

“How about I remind you tomorrow morning,” he said, his voice little more than a purr. “And I’ll pick something up from a bakery on the way home.”

Rowan pulled himself up into the cab before Aelin could reply, but she was smiling as he rolled down the window. Then she stepped up onto the step as Rowan leaned out the window. 

“I like that sound of that.”

They were both smiling when their lips met but they managed. They broke apart when Fenrys’ wolf whistle startled them both, Aelin managed to refrain from flipping him of for the sake of the students and the reprimands it would get her if any of her superiors saw. 

“See you in the morning,” Rowan said, Aelin’s reply was a two fingers salute as the truck drove away.

Aelin watched it go until it had turned and she couldn’t see Rowan anymore. When she went to go back to the impromptu dance party she noticed one of her students, Benjamin, standing on the outskirts watching her, his mouth hanging open in surprise. 

“You okay there, Benjamin?” Aelin asked.

It took him a moment to answer and he looked past her to where the fire engine had been parked, then he beckoned her closer. Aelin rested her hands on her knees so she was just about level with him. 

“Miss G, did you just kiss Fireman Whitethorn?” He whispered. 

Aelin nodded. “I did.”

“But…” Benjamin’s brow furrowed. “You’re only supposed to kiss people who are you boyfriend or girlfriend. Is Mr Whitethorn your boyfriend?” 

The boy was so excited and perplexed he’d completely forgotten about the fireman bit. 

“He is,” she said simply. 

Aelin couldn’t wait to tell Rowan about the look of sheer delight that spread over Benjamin’s face when she told him. He spun around, no doubt to spread this new revelation amongst his classmates, she could practically see the ripple of excitement move through the crowd. Aelin just laughed and kept dancing until the parents started to arrive to pick up their kids.

~~~~~

I say it every time but... I miss these two.

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[proseandpeonies]

You Won’t Miss Much, Part Two

Hello! So here is chapter two, ft. Worried!Fenrys

I also learned a bit of history/mythology the other day! Sellene is one of the primordial gods in Greek history, and Endymion was her lover who was killed. They are also Rowan’s cousins, who are both mentioned in EoS! Sorry, my inner nerd.

Summary: It’s been months since the war that changed every aspect of life in Erilea. Aelin Galathynius has survived against all odds and now is the rightful queen of Terrasen, but there are demons that still haunt both her and her court. And when she sends her king to deal with the rising tensions in Eyllwe, those demons begin their assault on everyone’s mind. And in the midst of it all, another surprise will either be the making or breaking of Aelin.

Warnings: Mentions of rape. Suicidal thoughts, torture, insomina, ptsd, depression.

Word Count: 3070

Chapter One.  Chapter Three

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius didn’t get something to eat in about two minutes, he was going to end someone’s life. He glanced around at his companions, who all seemed to be sharing his feelings of coldness, tiredness, and hunger. He’d been on much tougher war campaigns, ones where they’d had to abandon their horses because the snow was too deep, or the ones where they’d gone days without rest or food, but somehow this one was fraying his nerves much more than those ever had. 

 Perhaps it was what Aelin had awoken him with last night...

 Rowan shook his head, and spurred his horse a bit, hissing as the animal clomped into a large puddle he hadn’t noticed. Aedion, who had been riding unusually quite beside him, laughed dryly.

“Not enough sleep last few nights, Your Majesty?” The male’s smarmy grin was enough for Rowan to get what he was suggesting.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied, without looking back at him. Aedion made a sound of protest, and sped up his horse to catch up with Rowan. “Never mind that,” he said, the words coming out with a puff of steam in the cold air. The golden male looked back towards the rest of the party behind him, a smiling catching on his face as he saw Gavriel looking miserable at the back. 

They’d only brought three lords, the ones Aelin trusted, and three guards. But the lords, the finicky bastards, had insisted they bring a few of their servants with them. But still it was a small party, considering the task Aelin had sent him with; heal the bonds, ease people’s minds. Aedion had insisted they bring more, but Rowan had only said that more would look too much like an invasion.

“You know,” Aedion whispered. “It’ll take us two months to get there if we don’t hurry our pace.”  He was right, they’d miss their ship if they didn’t hurry. The plan was to ride to Ilium, then board on of the ship’s bound for Eyllwe. Rowan nodded his assent, the crown on his head heavy, and he raised a hand to steady it.

“Do I really have to wear this the entire journey?” He hissed, snapping his gaze to his general, who only laughed. “I suppose so.” Rowan braced himself as a wicked grin spread across Aedion’s tan face. “But, if you had agreed to taking a carriage—” Rowan groaned and let his head droop a bit. “You’d only have to wear it outside!”

“I am certainly not riding in a carriage like some polished little prince.” Aedion laughed, his eyes sparkling. Rowan felt another pang of hunger strike his belly, and he grabbed the pocket watch Aelin had thrown at him as he had been packing. It was nearly an hour past noon. But Aedion was right, they needed to pick up their pace, and, as Rowan glanced around, he found no place to stop. Rowan huffed. “We’ll stop in an hour.” Aedion nodded, and shouted the words back towards the group behind them. For a while the only sound was that of the clip-clop of horses’ hooves and the snapping of the silver-and-green banners in the wind, then a grumble interrupted it. Rowan snapped his eyes to Aedion in question, and the male blushed.

“I’m hungry,” he explained.

Rowan rolled his eyes but reached over to his saddle bag with one hand, unclipping it and tossing it towards Aedion. “Aelin probably stuck some gross confectionery in there.”

Aedion laughed as he rifled through it, shouting his victory when he yanked out a small wax paper bag. “Why,” Aedion began as he popped what looked like a piece of chocolate into his mouth, “does she shove this stuff in here if she knows you aren’t going to eat it?”

Rowan shrugged in answer and scanned the road before them. The towering pines on either side of the road created quite the image; each dusted with last night’s fallen snow, the needles whispering in the faint wind. There was a snicker behind him that turned into a full guffaw, and Rowan raised his brows at Aedion, then saw what he was looking at… 

“Oh gods,” he groaned, a blush heating his face. Aelin— wicked and cruel Aelin had slid a book into his bag as well. He remembered that particular book well. It was a copy of one of Aelin’s favorite collections of poems. If you could call them poems, and not just explicit short stories.

“Why the hell do you have this?” he said after another minute of laughter. Rowan only shook his head. “Blame your queen, General.”

Aedion chuckled, “She reads this smut?” Rowan fixed him with a look of disbelief. “You’ve no idea.”

You minx, he said to Aelin.

Hmm, did you find my book? Yes, but, as a matter of fact, Aedion, found your book, he growled.

There was a pause, then, Oh. I hope he enjoyed it.

 Sitting at the table in her chambers, breakfast spread before her, Aelin scanned the paper before her, trying desperately to quell her disappointment at what she was reading.

Your Majesty,

Sellene and I have been trying feverishly to calm the many who think the Whitethorn’s aren’t appropriate rulers, and I am sad to tell you that we may have to forfeit this rule. Or perhaps, you and my dear cousin could come to Doranelle to speak on our behalf, we need more influence than the few decrees you’ve sent. With Maeve dead, centuries of tradition are disintegrating, and we need your help. There has been no violence to speak of, but we fear that it may arise. I am aware of the things going on in Erilea, but this is a plea, if only so we can keep this from escalating.

Your friend, Endymion.

Aelin sighed heavily. She couldn’t leave to go to Wendlyn, not for the next few months at least, and she couldn’t spare anyone to go either. The tension in the kingdom had been steadily rising since the War, and it seemed it was at its tipping point. She scrubbed her face with a hand, then a few hard knocks on the door interrupted her, and she glanced towards the young girl who was pouring her a cup of tea. “Get that, please.” 

The girl scurried off with a quick bow, and Aelin adjusted the sleeves of her tunic as she heard the two sets of footsteps returning. It had been three weeks since Rowan had left, and she figured she had gotten maybe two whole nights of rest collectively. Maybe it was the nightmares that chased her from sleep, or the cold that had seeped into her bones. Aelin tipped back her head and sighed.

“You look like shit.”

Aelin righted herself to glare at Fenrys, whose tan face was serious. “Nice to see you, too, Fen. I’ve been well, how about you?”

 Fenrys didn’t smile as he pulled out a chair at the end of the table, helping himself to a plate of potatoes and sausage.

 “I’m serious, Aelin,” he said. “Are you feeling well?” 

Aelin rolled her eyes and braced an arm on the table, digging her fork into a piece of toast. “Is there a reason you’re here so early, Fenrys?” She said rather snappishly. 

The male raised a groomed brow in her direction, but shook his head, and fished something of his pocket, “This came a little bit ago.” He tossed a sealed envelope across the table, and she caught it with a hand. Suddenly, the scent of pine and snow and Rowan filled her, and a smile brightened her face. “Rowan,” she breathed.

She looked away from the sealed letter and towards Fenrys, raising a brow. “Why not just have a servant deliver this?” Fenrys looked out the window, his hands fidgeting with his fork. “Fenrys,” she growled. He winced a bit and met her eyes again. “Lysandra wanted me to check on you, she said you hadn’t been sleeping, and that you wouldn’t talk to her about it—”

Aelin bristled and clenched her fork a bit tighter. “And she said it might be good to talk to someone else…” Fenrys shifted in his seat, poking at the food on his plate. Aelin knew they were only trying to help, but they couldn’t.

 It was as simple as that. 

They had no way of knowing what it had been like inside that coffin, or inside that damned pit Maeve had kept her in. And she didn’t think she could ever tell them. Fenrys knew most of what had happened simply because he’d been there, and Rowan… She’d told him only what she could. 

There were some things that could only escape the binds she kept them in during her nightmares. And the things that had happened when she’d faced Erawan on the battle field… “I can’t talk about it Fen. I-,” she paused, considering what she was about to say. “I won’t talk about it.”

Fenrys nodded sadly and stood. “I have days like that too, but you can’t let it sit inside and grow into even worse monstrosities. We can’t let what happened to us defeat us after we’ve already survived it. You survived, Majesty, don’t forget that. And don’t forget that surviving isn’t the same thing as living.” With that, he left.

Aelin braced her elbows on the table, looking at her half-eaten breakfast in disgust. She’d told Rowan once that he made her want to live­— not just survive. And he did. Every day, but it seemed that ever since she’d been freed from that hellhole, she’d been going through the motions. 

She was Aelin Galathynius and she had survived Maeve, she had survived a fate that the very gods had predestined her for. But she was tired of just surviving. Perhaps she had forgotten those words she’d told her mate all those months ago.

Fenrys was lost in thought as he wandered down the hall towards his rooms, but as the ever-changing scent of Lysandra met his nose, he was drug out of his reverie. 

“Did you talk to her?” Lysandra practically shouted as he neared her.

 “I did my best, but,” he sighed. “This is something she has to be willing to do.” 

Lysandra frowned, but nodded. “Before Rowan left, he told me to keep an eye on her.” She dropped her voice, and glanced around the empty hall. “He said her nightmares had gotten worse, and that she wasn’t even telling him what was going on.” 

Lysandra scrubbed her face with a small hand. “I’m worried.” She said finally, and Fenrys nodded his agreement. “There’s quite a lot going on, maybe after everything’s settled in Eyllwe and in Doranelle, the stress will ease,” he said after a moment. “Maybe,” Lysandra whispered.

Aelin had forced herself to finish her meal before asking for the table to be cleared. Now, lying atop the covers in her bed, she smiled as she carefully unfolded the parchment, Rowan’s scent still clinging to the paper.

My dearest, Aelin,

I miss you. It is hard being so far away from you, Fireheart. By the time you get this letter, I’ll be on the ship, but for now, I’m lying in my dreadfully uncomfortable bed in the nicest inn Ilium could offer, wishing you were here. Unfortunately, I think the further we get from each other, the harder it is to get clear messages, so while I’m on the ship, you may have some silence. But I promise when I get to Eyllwe I’ll write more. And, I am unashamed to tell you that I have read a few of your little poems. They’ve giving me a few ideas, actually, especially the one atop page 55.

Aelin made a mental note to look that one up.

But, asides from your sinful literature, I’d like you to know how amazing Ilium is. This city is flourishing, and as are all the others we passed through on the way here. Aelin, when I get back, I think we should go around and visit the towns and villages again. Not just for their sake, but for ours as well. I think it would do us both good to see what we’ve done. The people are healing, from the War, and from the past. It’s inspiring. This morning, after we arrived, I went down to the temple to pray, and to look around. It has become a place of reverence again. You’d be honored, my love.

He went on to discuss the many happenings of their week and a half of travels, and of course, the topics he had decided to discuss in Eyllwe, but towards the end…. Aelin reread the last few paragraphs a few times.

Aelin, perhaps this a cowardly way of doing things, but I wanted to do this in a letter, if only because you cannot out right refuse the written word. I know there are things you aren’t talking about, with me, with Lys, with anyone. And I know you need time, I am prepared to give you the rest of your life if need be, but Fireheart, you can’t internalize these things. You can’t keep it in. It’ll destroy you. I know from personal experience.

You told me once that you can’t talk about the things that have happened to you. You told me that there was a rage. But that rage does not turn me away. I am not going to turn away. You’re my mate. My carranam. My queen and wife. And I love you more than anything in this damned world and in the next. And if you can’t ever talk about what happened. Then please just tell me what your feeling, Aelin. Please. You are not alone in this recovery process. You are never alone. No matter if I am thousands of miles away, my heart is with you, Fireheart. Always.

Yours Always,

Rowan.

She didn’t realize she was crying until a tear slipped down her face and onto the paper, smearing Rowan’s messy scrawl. Aelin set the paper aside shakily and rolled onto her back. They were right. Painfully right. She had covered everything up. Had buried it beneath false smiles and sarcastic remarks. 

Her mental health hadn’t been something she had even considered for the past six months. She had been so focused on her kingdom, and the wedding, and treaties and decrees and all the other bullshit that she had shoved away all the pain and sorrow and utter devastation at what had been done to her.

But they were wrong about one thing.  There was no talking about it. Aelin didn’t know what would happen if she did. It was something so revolting and destructive. That damn pit of memories. Aelin covered her face with a trembling hand, pressing her palm into her eyes until she saw nothing but black.

Fenrys was about two seconds away from slamming the petulant little guard’s face into the wall. “Let me repeat myself, I am one of the queen’s blood-sworn. Let me enter,” he growled to the now-shaking male. “B-but I am n-not supposed to let anyone i-in,” he stammered, glancing between Fenrys and Connall nervously. 

“We pose the queen no harm; we just have matters to discuss.” Con’s even voice seemed to soothe the man, and he stepped aside. Fenrys refrained from glaring at the man. “If she lights your asses on fire, don’t you blame me.” He grumbled.

Fenrys eased open the door, scanning the entryway as he stepped in. “Aelin,” he called softly. When there was no response, he and Connall walked in further, down the few steps that led to the main bedroom. 

Aelin lie on the bed, seemingly asleep. Her small weight barely made a dent in the large bed, and Fenrys exchanged a glance with his brother. Together, they approached the bed on near silent feet.

 Faintly, Fenrys could hear her breath, but she should have heard them enter, at least she should have heard them arguing in the hall. “Your Majesty?” Connall whispered, concerning edging his voice. Fenrys frowned when she did not respond, and reinforced his shield as her reached out a tentative hand to brush her arm. Aelin jerked up, a ball of flame flaring to life in her palm.

“What the hell!” She shouted, the flame extinguishing much to Fenrys delight. There were dried paths of tears on her cheeks, but as he caught sight of the opened letter to her right, he decided not to ask about them. “We came to—”

“Check on me,” Aelin snarled. Connall gave Fenrys a pleading look, but he only shook his head. Their queen was right. 

Aelin angrily patted down her hair and snatched up her letter from the bed.

 “I’m not some toddler you must keep tabs on,” she said as she refolded her letter, and then leaned forward to slide it into the drawer of the nightstand. 

Smoothly, she hopped of the bed and began walking towards her closet. 

“Get out,” she said flatly. Fenrys felt the words as if they were a slap to the face, and from the hurt look in Con’s face, he felt the same. 

“Aelin, please, if this is about Rowan—,” Connell was interrupted by a viscous, cold laugh, one that made ice shoot into every vein in Fenrys body. 

“You think that this is about Rowan?” Aelin’s voice filled the room as she whipped her body around to face them. “Do you think that I’m some love-sick child?” The female spat, her hands trembling with rage.

 Fenrys held up his hands in a sign of peace. This wasn’t just the anger of a separated mate. No, this was something much deeper. Something much more sinister.

Aelin turned back to her closet “I’ll say it again. Get out! And leave me the hell alone!” With that she stomped into her closet and slammed the heavy door shut.

Aelin didn’t leave the closet until she heard them leave. So, she had sat there like a pouting child for a few minutes, and as she sat on her bed now, she realized how ridiculous she was being. They just wanted to reach her. They wanted to help. But… Aelin didn’t want their help. Out of everything, she’d always survived and figured everything out. She would this time to.