#i want all the keyboard smashes and screamin

[highqueenofelfhame]

fafs, twenty five

WHEEEEW BOY. I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. busy winter all around, and a bit of writer’s block later, and we finally made it. Y’all, this chapter is 6.6k words, and pushed fafs over into 100k total words. I’m so fucking speechless? April is a really bad month for me, my anxiety has been absolutely killing me, but i feel so proud of myself and accomplished right now. maybe it’s the week i’m having, but i’m shedding real author tears over this. hopefully the size of this bad boy makes up for the wait. i promise it won’t be that long ever again. if you read this, and are taking enough time to read this note, thank you. thank you for reading, and for your comments, and for your love of my silly little story that i hope to one day turn into a real book you can hold in your hands. now... on with the show.

CW: i don’t want to give any spoilers but this chapter is for mature audiences for various reasons.

His face.

His stupid, godsdamn face. 

Aelin couldn’t remember the last time it had been an effort to pull the swaggering assassin persona up to the surface, but she felt like she was digging through an empty chest in the pit of her stomach. Nothing but cobwebs remained; too much of her soul laid bare for the man that stood in front of her. He would see through her as he so often did, leaving no room for Celaena Sardothien to slip back into her skin. 

That was fine. Aelin herself was full of more rage than she’d ever been as Celaena. Her eyes burned with unshed tears begging for a release, but she refused to let them fall. Her life had been nothing but a  wheel of betrayal and trauma. Sam had been so rife with ambition he had thrown her under the bus more than once. Aedion, too, if she thought about it for more than a second, but she pushed him from her mind, refusing to let his giving up on her fall into the same cycle. He hadn’t known who she became, and she hadn’t let herself tell him the truth before it was too late, so she couldn’t really place any blame at his feet. 

Rowan, though. His betrayal sliced deeper than any wound she had ever received in a fight. It was a gaping, fresh wound in her soul, as jagged and ugly as the one losing Aedion had left behind. Maybe worse because Rowan had seen her for everything she was and still decided she wasn’t good enough, decided she was no more than a criminal that deserved to rot in prison for her crimes. Aelin had told him the truth. The whole messy truth. She erased no part of her story in the version she gave him. Yet it wasn’t enough. 

There had been plenty of time for her to turn the events over in her mind. Most days she was tipsy by noon, emotions scorching the back of her throat as much as the liquor. But even that hadn’t dulled the pain that came from her torturously going through a catalog of memories, trying to sort out the moment where Rowan had decided to lure her in with his words and his body for the sole purpose of stabbing her in the back at the right moment. It would have hurt less if he had just used a knife.

Even now, with him standing in front of her, she had to crush the fresh wave of hurt that threatened to consume her. Her cheeks burned red with a drunk flush as she looked him over, eyes silently scanning his body for anywhere he might have hidden weapons. Small knives could be tucked into his pockets and tennis shoes, and a gun would be easily hidden beneath his t-shirt. The open flannel would easily hide any bulk on his hips or back. Even the sling on his shoulder–

She averted her gaze, bleary eyes focusing once again on his godsdamn face. The way he was looking at her pinned her to the chair she slumped against, that painful chasm in her stomach ready to swallow her whole. Rowan’s eyes were scanning her, too, likely to find where else she might have hid another knife to chuck at his head. To silently answer his question, she ran her hand along the arm of the chair to tug another free from its sheath. Aelin pushed the point of the blade into her bare thigh, holding the dagger in place with a single finger. 

The pain from the prick sent a rush of blood to her head, dusting off her thoughts enough for her to open her mouth to speak. Rowan, however, beat her to the punch by saying, “Stop it.”

“Stop what, exactly?”

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” Indeed, a quick glance down revealed a tiny bead of blood around the tip of the knife. 

“Wouldn’t want me to bleed on the seats of your cruiser, now would we?” The tremor in her voice nearly gave away her emotions, but the sharpness in her tone honed it into anger. To his credit, the man before her didn’t flinch. Merely arched a brow at her until she adjusted her grip on the handle and twirled it between her fingers. “Am I surrounded?”

“I’m alone,” he said, and Aelin couldn’t hold back her snort. She highly doubted he’d been sent to apprehend her on his own with no backup. Not after what happened in the lobby of the bureau that ended with multiple people clutching bleeding wounds, Aelin and Rowan included. 

“I don’t believe you, and I won’t be walking out of here to return to a prison cell.”

“I’m alone,” he repeated, leaning against the doorframe, “And I don’t want you to be in prison, either. I’m not here to arrest you.”

“Why are you here, then?” Aelin’s head tilted slightly, a lioness assessing her prey. She hoped it made him uncomfortable for her violent attention to be fixated on him. She pushed the thoughts where she couldn’t hurt him into the back corners of her mind. Maybe if she turned off her brain and emotions, she could fight her way out of this one and flee once again. 

“To talk. To explain. To help you—“

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” she hissed, stabbing the dagger into the arm of the chair. She used it as leverage to pull herself up, the wooden floor of the cabin creaking and cool against her bare feet. The lies had fallen from his lips too easily, and it had her grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the coffee table to take a long, burning swig. “You told her everything.”

“Aelin, I don’t know what she said to you, but I never told her anything.”

“She knew everything.” She hated the way her voice tripped up over the last word, saying it out loud, chipping away at her stone-cold exterior she’d been trying to live in lately. Flinging a finger toward the window, Aelin took a few steps toward Rowan. . “She knew about Arobynn and Sam. She knew about my parents. Everything I’ve told you, she knew. Maeve even said–”

“I don’t give a shit what Maeve said!” The outburst surprised her. Even when she had been in prison, Aelin couldn’t remember a time that he had raised his voice at her. “I didn’t tell her a godsdamn thing.”

“You’re the only person who knew aside from Arobynn, and he’s dead. I made sure of that after what he did to you. And you manipulated me into a false sense of security–”

“I told you that I’m in love with you. You think I did that as some elaborate scheme to throw you back in prison? Don’t you think if I was going to rat you out, I would have done it the second you told me everything? Why would I have waited?”

“To get back at me! I lied and betrayed you before–”

“That doesn’t matter anymore. I’m still in love with you, despite everything.” 

“Stop saying that.” Aelin was close enough now that it was easy for her to jab a finger at his chest. This close, she was sure he could smell the smoky whiskey on her breath. “Stop lying to me. It’s over.”

“Bullshit, it’s over.” Rowan’s hand closed around her finger, squeezing tight enough that when she tried to jerk away, she didn’t immediately slip free. Aelin jerked again, putting more of her body into the pull, but he moved with her. Nearly chest to chest, she used her other arm to shove him back, but he didn’t budge.

“Let go of me,” she breathed, voice low through clenched teeth. Tears pricked at the corners of her vision and emotion scorched the back of her throat. Again, she jerked her arm and managed to nearly slip out of his grasp. Rowan was too quick, though, tightening his grip on her wrist until it almost hurt. 

Every emotion she had been burying at the bottom of various bottles started to bubble to the surface. Every tear she had refused to let fall, every atom of sadness and rage that she had managed to swallow filling her veins, her vision, her lungs. 

Aelin wasn’t entirely sure when or how she started swinging her limbs at him in a nearly-blind attempt to cause some sort of harm. One moment she had been tugging away from him, and the next she was crowding him until his back was to the wall while she swung and kicked and he did what he could to deflect every hit. More than once he managed to catch her hands, but her white-hot anger proved to be too much. She landed hit after hit to his chest, one to his jaw, several kicks to his legs. 

Someone was screaming in a raw, animalistic way. Someone was sobbing. She didn’t realize that it was her until her throat felt so raw it could have been bleeding from every emotion clawing up her throat.

His mouth was moving, the shape of her name so lovely on his lips that it broke her heart even more. It had been weeks of doing her damndest not to think of him, not even his name, and here he was standing in front of her looking exhausted and rugged and so handsome it only twisted the knife in her heart even more. 

“Fuck, Aelin. Stop,” he groaned, a sharpness to his voice that hadn’t been there before. It was enough to give her pause while she scanned his features. Pain was etched across his face, heavy in the wrinkle between his brows as his eyes squeezed shut. Aelin’s hands dropped immediately, one of them sliding down the arm housed in a black sling. The shoulder she had aimed and shot at when she fled the bureau, leaving a hole in his skin that would surely bear a scar for the rest of his life. 

And just like that, the anger diminished. Guilt flooded her, clouded her senses as she stumbled away from him. Still, his right hand gripped her fingers and kept her from getting too far away. Aelin didn’t bother trying to tug her hand away. She stood in front of him with her shoulders caved forward, body shaking with grief and guilt. Everything she felt was stripped bare, bleeding and raw before him. An alternate version of the woman she’d been that night on the balcony when she had told him her deepest secrets. When he had held her hand while she wept at her lost life and family, when he hadn’t wavered for even a heartbeat. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” his voice anchored her where she stood as he stepped closer, using his thumb to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Aelin was fully trembling now, everywhere from her lips and chin to her fingers and toes. It was nearly impossible to get any amount of air into her lungs. Each breath was short and sharp and not nearly enough. Her gasps choked her between every broken sob. “Aelin. Look at me.”

She tried, but her vision was so cloudy with tears it was hard to focus on his face. Each and every one of his features remained blurry, but she tried. Tried to focus on the feeling of the calluses of his palm against her cheek, of his fingers slipping to twine between strands of golden hair. Aelin didn’t protest, physically or verbally, when he pulled her to his chest and wrapped his good arm around her shoulders. Nor did she try to duck away from his reach when his lips brushed the top of her head and then stayed there to murmur sweet nothings to soothe her. 

Maybe she should have been embarrassed at her willingness to melt into him, but it wasn’t anything she could help. The fabric of his t-shirt was so soft beneath her hands as she slid them around his torso, fisting the hem between her fingers at the base of his spine. She did her best to avoid his left arm entirely, but still felt the soft rub of his knuckles against his shoulder while he held her and let her fall apart at his feet. Maybe she should have felt embarrassed, yes, but if she was going to be carted back to prison, she would allow herself to have this last moment with him when she was just Aelin and he was just Rowan. 

It had all been a delusion to think any of it could turn out okay. To have believed that he didn’t see her as the hardened criminal that she was, that he had put his training as an FBI agent to the side. Maybe it had been silly to think that they might have had any sort of a relationship in this world or another. But it had been that hope that had her wanting to correct the course of her life and see where they might end up. If he had betrayed her, she couldn’t blame him for it. As deeply as it cut, she couldn’t blame him for doing his job. 

But it certainly didn’t feel like he was doing his job as he held her in the living room of the cabin, a fire crackling and humming behind them. His body was a solid weight that she held onto, inhaling his cool pine scent until her breaths evened out and reached the bottom of her lungs. The words he whispered certainly didn’t feel like he was doing it to keep up a ruse; soft murmurs that she refused to let go of. She would hear them echo in her mind until her very last breath, she was sure of it.

A small panic began to bubble to the surface as he pulled back, her eyes wide and wild as she looked up at him with new tears beginning to form. But his gaze was warm and loving, his hands gentle but firm as he ran it up and down her back.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he breathed, and her heart squeezed so tightly it hurt. “Let's get you in bed.”

Bed. It did sound nice; the idea of falling into the mattress and burrowing beneath the blankets with him as if he was going to stay. So she followed him, merely pointing toward the door that was her room when he looked over his shoulder in question. Not once did he let go of her hand. If anything, he gripped it tighter in his. 

After closing the bedroom door, Rowan took a brief glance around. It was nothing like her secret apartment in Rifthold. Where that had been all opulence and luxury, this room was one of functionality and necessity - a mattress on nothing more than a bed frame pushed into the far corner. The rumpled sheets were a plain white linen with several ordinary blankets heaped in the center from where she’d crawled out that morning. The only other furniture in the room was a nightstand with a simple lamp and a dim bulb. Even the closet was mostly bare, save for a bag stuffed with first aid supplies and a handful of very boring clothes she had picked from other safe houses along the way to this one. 

Rowan guided her to the bed, taking a moment to make sense of the blankets before motioning for her to crawl in. As soon as she settled close to the wall, he joined her, wasting no time in tugging her to his side. His warmth was welcome, what with her body still trembling slightly from the meltdown she’d endured. It may have been the most at peace she had felt in weeks, and she may have hated it just a little. But she rested her head against his chest and shivered when his hand coasted between her shoulder blades. 

The weight of the blankets and her soul made her sink further into the mattress, her cheek nuzzling against his t-shirt. She wanted to believe that maybe he needed this just as much as she did. That the physical contact was just as relieving and rewarding for him as it was for her. With hope unfurling in her heart, it didn’t take any time at all for her to drift off into a deep sleep.

~*~

Red and gold flames danced before her, reaching higher in the chimney the more she poked and prodded the wood. Sparks scattered up and vanished, the logs crackling and snapping into ashen pieces with a hard jab of the poker. Aelin was trying to ignore the overwhelming presence of Rowan on the couch behind her. The flames were the only thing that seemed to soothe her aching soul. 

The man in question took a deep breath, exhaling with an even heavier sigh. She could hear his fingernail scraping at the scratchy fabric of the couch, and it was enough to set her further on edge. Instead of acknowledging him and putting an end to the pregnant silence, she stabbed at the fire again and smiled to herself at the explosion of sparks. 

Aelin knew Rowan well enough to know that the silence wouldn’t last forever. It was just a matter of who was going to break it first. She was sure that he didn’t know where to start, either. They had so much to talk about, starting with their convoluted relationship. But what was there to say, really? Rowan, in some shape or form, had betrayed her. The only person who knew her identity, that knew about her parents, was Rowan. Yet somehow Maeve had made the connection. That was a conversation that needed to be had, but Aelin was uneasy about it. The only way Maeve would know is if Rowan told her. It was enough to make her blood boil.

Rowan cleared his throat, a sound that elicited a deep sigh from Aelin. She finally stood and turned, but didn’t lift her eyes to his. With one arm braced on the stone mantel, she ruffled her fingers through her hair while watching the flames twist and twine together. 

The tension in the room was a living, breathing thing. It sucked all the oxygen from the space, straight from her lungs. Looking at him would only make it worse; still, she risked a glance over her shoulder to find his eyes boring holes through her skin. Aelin quickly looked away, settling her gaze back on the roaring fire before her.

“I thought it would help,” Rowan finally said, his voice warm despite the chilly silence that had grown between them. Aelin froze at his words, muscles tense and hands clenched into fists against her thighs as she rose to her feet. 

“You thought what would help?” Her voice was cool, calculated, and sharp as the daggers she had hidden all over the cabin. Rowan sighed when she finally faced him, raking his fingers through his hair, and creating a scattered mess with the strands. 

“I thought if she knew the truth, it would help. That she would see things differently knowing that you’re Aelin Galathynius. That the case could be dropped because you were tortured and abused and forced to do all the awful things you had to do to survive. I thought we could spin it in a way that would make the press and the world feel for you. The golden girl of Terrasen found at last, after twenty years of suffering abuse. I thought… I thought since she solved your parent’s case that she would want to help.” His voice got thinner and tighter the more he spoke, the muscles of his neck and shoulders tense and straining beneath his t-shirt. 

“If you truly believed any of that, you are far more naïve than I ever believed you to be,” she said harshly. The betrayal of it all seeped through her pores and pulsed through her veins. Aelin couldn’t remember the last time she had felt like this. Couldn’t remember the last time she had felt like she was on fire and burning in the pits of her rage. The flames at her back only stoked the heat, prickled at the back of her neck like a thousand fire ant bites. 

“I wasn’t–”

“Thinking? Weren’t you, though? When you lulled me into a false sense of security while I was broken and free-falling into a void. You wormed your way into my life, made me believe I could trust you, then you turn around and betray me in the worst way possible. What are you getting out of it, Rowan?” 

“Do you think I enjoyed telling her everything? I feel like shit about it, Aelin. I know I broke your trust, but–”

“There are no buts!” Like a banshee, her voice exploded from her chest. Sweat lined her brow as her arms flung out to the sides, as her eyes widened and her heart shattered. “You would gain something from this. Probably a fat ass promotion for catching the infamous Celaena Sardothien and unmasking her true identity in the process. I’m sure you have hard drives stacked with my secrets that only you know.” 

“I don’t–” Aelin cut him off with a sharp snort that quickly devolved into manic laughter. 

“You and the entire bureau, I suppose. Did you all sit around with that shitty coffee laughing about everything I said? Every word that was nearly a confession that you can use in my trial?” She cocked her head, eyes locked on him. A predator narrowing in on her prey. Even the steps she took toward him were slow and purposeful. Rowan, too trusting it seemed of the woman before him, did little else than adjust his position on the couch. When she was a meter away from him, he finally stood and reached for her.

“Aelin, stop.” There was a commanding tone to his voice, something soothing that she wanted to be wrapped up in. But her skin was still blazing; his confession was pricking at every nerve ending in her body. That white-hot rage was still a rising wave, waiting to crash down on both of them. She had come this far, and she refused to be taken down by something as silly as false hope and a love of lies.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Something flashed in Rowan’s eyes, and she understood. Even to her, the voice dripping venom from her mouth sounded entirely foreign. 

“Listen to me. We’re going to figure this out. I love you too much to let anything happen to you.”

“Say it again,” she said, her voice still strange and disconnected. Her fingers toyed with a small pocket at her thigh, brushed at the dagger hidden inside it. 

“I love you.” 

It all crashed down. 

The lie on his lips sent that wave of fury down hard, sweeping through every part of her body. The rage got the better of her in that moment as her hand palmed the dagger. Her hands took on a mind of their own as she slammed the dagger into his chest until nothing but the hilt was sticking out. Rowan’s eyes widened, mouth opening in a silent ‘o’ from the shock. 

And then she really lost touch with her reality. Over and over, she ripped the blade from his body and slammed it back down. Her movements were furious, his blood splattering over the couch, the walls, her skin.

Rowan staggered back, collapsing in a bloody heap on the couch with this chest heaving. Still, she didn’t stop. The warm spray of his blood was familiar, something she had experienced more times than she could count. Death and darkness beckoned her, and she found she couldn’t stop herself from plunging the knife into his body over and over until she knew he was dead, knew his heart had stopped beating, knew his lips would never spill another lie. Blood covered his entire body, soaked the couch and their clothes. His eyes were open and glassy, staring at the ceiling with no light behind them–

Aelin jolted awake with a sharp gasp, tears burning her eyes and falling in silent streams down her cheeks. Every part of her body was shaking furiously as she grappled with what was a nightmare and what was a reality. Each breath she took was shaky and shallow, not hitting the bottom of her lungs as her eyes jumped around the bedroom of the cabin. 

The wooden floor was cool and solid beneath her feet. Beneath the closed, and locked, door, the fire emitted a soft orange glow that crept into the room. With the curtains drawn shut, she could see little of the room around her. She heard, more than saw, Rowan rise from the bed and walk around to where she stood with shaking hands and a hollow heart. 

“Aelin,” he whispered, his voice warm and lovely wrapped around her name. Trembling, she raised her hands in front of her body. Was it to keep him away or to surrender? Was she signaling to him he needed to stay as far from her as possible, or to show him the bare bones of her soul? “Look at me.”

“I– I– We– I–” With failing words, she looked at his face. Rowan’s eyes locked onto hers while he reached out to carefully drag his fingers down her arms, to her hands. Where her entire body was cold and covered in gooseflesh, his hands were warm when they encompassed hers. 

The trembling wouldn’t stop. It was as if she had no control over her body as she shook violently. Each breath was short and quick, sharp, and unfulfilling. Tears dripped off her chin and splashed onto her arms, soaked through the thin t-shirt that hung on her thin frame. 

None of it seemed to deter Rowan. Instead of backing away, he only came closer. His hand slid around her neck and pulled her to his chest. At some point, it seemed, he had taken off his sling because she didn’t feel the rough velcro of the strap against her cheek as she nuzzled her face into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped between loud, broken sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, shh, sh.” His hand stroked down her hair over and over for several moments before settling firmly on the back of her head. She forced herself to listen to the loud thump of his heart while she tried and failed to calm her breathing. 

Rowan took long, deep breaths, whispering for her to breathe with him. Aelin was lightheaded from hyperventilating, stars pricking at the edge of her vision. To avoid the disorientation, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced her body to follow the guide of his breathing, to concentrate on the thump, thump, thump of his heart. Balling his shirt into her fists, she pulled him as close as she could manage, holding him tightly as though he might slip through her fingers.

“Whatever it was, it was nothing but a nightmare. It wasn’t real. This, Aelin, is real. Me and you. Right here. This is real.”

Real. She knew he meant more than just their bodies. The tenderness in his voice made it obvious. The love between them was real. It had only been a nightmare made up of her deepest fears. He had never betrayed her, he’d never told anyone her secrets. There was a loyalty between them that was almost blind; their love was almost to a fault. But it was real. Real as the cold wood beneath her feet, real as the fire in the sitting room, real as the ache she felt in her bones. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again. Tears still fell down her face and left blotches on his white shirt. His chin rest on top of her head as he rubbed his hand in circles over the center of her back.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I killed you in my dream,” she sobbed, rubbing her face into his chest. 

Rowan was quiet for a moment, though he never stilled the comforting motions of his hand. After several beats of his heart, he asked, “Did I deserve it?”

“A little.” To her surprise, a soft laugh bubbled in her chest and poured from her lips. Golden hair caught in his five-o’clock shadow as his lips spread into a smile. 

“Then I forgive you.” It was too easy, the banter. Being comforted by him. Loving him. It was overwhelming and all-consuming, and despite the situation, despite the nightmare, Aelin could have stood wrapped in his arms like that forever.

But she couldn’t. They had much to talk about, but not while the moon was still so high in the sky with a soft pitter-patter of rain beginning to tap at the windows. Now was a time for rest. Aelin didn’t object when Rowan pulled away and led her back to the bed in the center of the room, carefully tucking her into the blankets before crawling in beside her. She was quick to snuggle into his side, to rest her head on his chest and begin to count his heartbeats. 

It was the lullaby of having him so close that gently rocked her to sleep.

~*~

This time when she woke, soft light was creeping through the cracks of the curtains. The rain had gone as quickly as it came, leaving a silence that was only achieved in the middle of a forest. It was peaceful and serene.

And warm. She was so warm she was sweating where a heavy arm lay draped over her side. At some point in the night, her t-shirt had risen up. Skin against skin, keeping her warm and safe even in sleep. 

She wanted to believe that he hadn’t betrayed her, but a thousand questions still tore through her mind like a hurricane. They had much to talk about, yes, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy this moment while it lasted. 

Much to her dismay, it ended much quicker than she would have liked. Ten minutes after she’d woken up, Rowan began to stir, too. His arm tightened around her for a brief moment as he let out a deep sigh, then removed himself from her and shifted. Aelin rolled over then, still laying with her hands tucked beneath her head. He was sitting now, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretching his legs. 

“I didn’t expect you to be here when I woke up,” she said, breaking the silence with a whisper. She truthfully hadn’t. After everything… why would he stay? She had made more than one attempt to push him away, starting with yelling at him in the bureau lobby and shooting him in the shoulder. Yet he’d come back. He had found her when no one else had truly bothered to try. Sure, there was probably a low key manhunt going on at the FBI, because she doubted that Maeve would want it to get out that she lost the world’s most notorious assassin. But Rowan had stayed. 

There were no handcuffs keeping her chained until backup could come. There was no sign of him even having brought a gun with him. Her anklet had yet to make another appearance, and she hadn’t seen his cell phone since he’d arrived. All signs that he wasn’t here to take her away, and that he didn’t want to be found by anyone else, either.

“I keep trying to show you that I’m not going anywhere. When are you going to start believing me?” The words clanged through her like a bell, her lips parting on a sharp inhale. Hurt flashed in his eyes as he rustled his fingers through his messy hair. “I don’t know what else I can do, Aelin.”

Rowan’s gaze was fixed on his hands in his lap, fingers picking at a stray thread. That deep wrinkle appeared between his brows and she hated that she was the one that put it there more often than not.

She sat up, blankets bunching around her waist as she reached for his hand. It was hard not to sigh when he turned his palm over for her to slide her fingers through his and her heart skipped several beats when he finally looked at her.

Aelin crawled into his lap, careful not to jostle his wounded arm too much. His fingers brushed against her side, against the cotton of her shirt. The calluses caught on the fabric that he gripped into a loose fist, but she understood. Sliding forward until she was as close as she could be, Aelin rested her hands on the sides of his neck. 

Neither of them said anything as a thick tension settled over the room, filling every gap until it was nearly overwhelming. There was a slight tremor to her hands as she brushed her thumbs along the strong, chiseled line of his jaw. His other hand was on her side, sliding around to her back, and she shivered at the way he was touching her. The way she would have let him touch her for the rest of his life if there wasn’t a chopping block awaiting her in the center of the city. 

“Rowan,” she whispered, her breath fanning over his face. His green eyes shifted from her mouth up to her heavy lidded gaze. With her heart thundering in her chest, she was aching to whisper the words that she’d never uttered to anyone else in her life. Not even Sam. 

“Fireheart.” There was tension in his voice, tension like he was trying to hold himself back. Whether because it was a test of his self-control or because he physically had to for the sake of the gunshot wound he’d suffered to his shoulder. By her own hand. She would never forgive herself for that.

Aelin leaned down, her lips pressing against the scarred flesh. It was soft, barely a whisper, barely a breeze of wind against his skin. Rowan’s exhale was shaky and his fingers flexed against her back. That kiss was an apology in itself, one she would make over and over until he was certain it would never happen again. 

When she pulled back, her thumb traced over his lips, and she leaned forward to kiss him. It was a kiss that, if they weren’t existing in a world where what they had was a ticking time bomb, it would have be full of a million promises. Promises of tomorrow, of waking up tangled together, of shiny stones and golden bands. Promises of a house with the soft thump of tiny feet running through the hallways. 

It was a future that she had never allowed herself to even dream. That had never been in the cards for her since everything avalanched when she was a child, but gods above did she want it. Just for today, she decided, she would pretend that they could have those things. 

Tomorrow she would worry about the bureau, her trial, the cell that awaited her until she rotted to nothing inside and out. But today…

Knowing all of this, knowing what awaited them, she pulled back and whispered the words she should have that day they’d spent in her bed weeks ago after his rescue. 

“I love you, Rowan. I love you so much, I can’t– ” but she was cut off with a searing kiss that she felt in every atom of her body. It felt like coming home, because in a way, she was. Rowan was home to her. It didn’t matter what happened, or where they were, he was home. 

The kiss was all consuming, stole the breath straight from her lungs until she was gasping. Aelin had never been kissed quite like this, with so much hunger and desperation that it felt as though they might die if they stopped. Yet it was still so tender like he thought she would disappear at any moment. But she wouldn’t. Nor would he. And it seemed they were both ready to burn until nothing else remained.

“I love you,” he breathed, pulling back to search her face. Aelin merely nodded leaning back for another kiss, but he stopped her with his thumb on her chin. “I need you to hear me, Aelin. I’m not going anywhere. You can’t push me away. Whatever happens from here on out, we deal with it together.”

“Okay.” It felt like a weak response, nowhere near the words she wanted to say back to him, but they all remained in a knot in her throat. Tears stung her eyes, reflected in his as well. They were mirrors, she realized. One soul separated into two bodies. The truth of it broke and healed her all at once.

“I love you,” he said again. “To whatever end.”

“To whatever end,” she promised, and he finally let her capture his lips in another kiss that set her whole body on fire. 

Aelin wasn’t sure when or how their clothes were shed, it happened so quickly all of it was a blur. The only thing she could see was him, the only thing she could feel was his hands roaming her skin, the hardness of him pushing between her thighs. When she first lowered herself onto him, it overwhelmed and consumed her in the best of ways. His attention remained on her face, even when her eyes fell shut at the sheer size of him, how hot she felt all over with desire and need.

Because she did need this. They both did, evident in the way his hands trembled against her body everywhere he touched. Her thumb swept over his damp cheek blindly, realizing that this was leaving him just as raw as it was her. Everything was laid bare before them, and though they had so much to talk about, so many things to uncover…

None of it mattered. The sole thing in this moment was him, was the way he felt sliding in and out of her as she rode him with her hands tugging on the ends of his hair. The closer she got to her climax, the more breathless she got, the harder her heart pounded against his chest. He had his arms wrapped around her so tightly that there wasn’t a part of them not touching. 

“Rowan, I–” she couldn’t get the rest of her words out of her mouth as she tumbled over the edge with him chasing close behind her. Their foreheads were pressed together as they rode it out with jumbled words falling from their lips. 

It took what felt like an eternity to come down from it. Not just the sex, but the emotional upheaval they were both experiencing. She stayed atop him, not wanting to be separated in any way, until both of their breathing evened out and his grip on her body loosened. Still, his hands shook where he touched her, tilting her head back with his fingers at her jaw to look into her eyes, her soul.

“I love you.” She would never tire of those words from his lips. 

“To whatever end,” she promised, her lips falling back down to his. 

It was the first time that she could truly imagine what her life might be like, had she been normal. Had she been anyone else in the world, with nothing but silly skeletons in her closet.

But she wasn’t anyone else. She was Celaena Sardothien, and she was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. And it was only a matter of time before everything caught up to her and brought everything tumbling to the ground. 

p.s.: big thanks to @punkassbookjockey26​ for being the best editor ever, and bouncing ideas with me. and a huge thanks to @westofmoon​ and @shyvioletcat​ for always being around when i get stuck. this story (and my life) would suck without you.