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live-the-fangirl-life · 8 months

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Timeless [Immortals]

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

The world is large and time may be endless, but it's all an exciting adventure with the right person beside you. Inspired in part by Timeless by Taylor Swift, Immortals by Fall Out Boy, and by my own historical research fixations. Also a tiny bit of Istanbul by They Might be Giants

A/N: I will say I wanted to flesh this out a bit more and had a whole plan on how to, but I started a new job recently and I haven't had the energy to keep writing during my free time, so I edited what I had and have it here for you to enjoy. I also wanted to write for a bunch of Rowaelin month days but I think this is all I have in me for now.

Finally, I just have a fair warning: I got really into slang words in this. i had way too much fun with them, so hopefully its understandable lol

Masterlist | Rowaelin Month | Read on Ao3

6494 words

Written for Rowaelin Month 2023 - Day 1: SongFic

*******

Morning light peeked through the curtains fluttering around the open window of their living room. She could faintly hear the sounds of the neighborhood filtering through – cars cruising by, a riding lawnmower cutting clean lines into the grass, a couple of kids out riding their bicycles, and the steadily growing music of an ice cream truck.

“Rowan, have you seen the…” Aelin trailed off as she realized her husband wasn’t in the room with her anymore.

He chose to go by his given name nowadays, reminding her again of their youth and all the best parts about learning how to grow up before the reality of time set in.

She was sitting cross-legged on the plush rug, combing through a box of mementos she’d found tucked away between stacks of old books.

She must’ve been more distracted by them than she had thought because when she looked at the clock, nearly two hours had gone by and Rowan, who had been sitting in the armchair across from her, wasn’t there anymore. She did have a vague memory of a kiss being pressed to her forehead and hearing his muffled voice but she’d been too distracted.

Aelin gathered the things she’d been picking out and put all the photographs, letters, and trinkets back in their box, before getting up and carefully carrying it with her as she went looking for Rowan.

It didn’t take long. The man was out on their back porch, sitting on the wooden swing and using one leg to slowly rock himself back and forth. He wasn’t looking at her but she saw the smile on his face as she approached. He always knew she was there; he could always sense her. Aelin walked towards him and grinned against his mouth when she ducked down to kiss him, before unceremoniously dropping down onto the swing beside him. His rocking didn’t falter a second.

“Is that what’s taken your attention today?” He asked, nodding at the large, well-loved box she placed on the floor in front of them.

“Have you looked through this recently?” She let his question float away and started pulling out some of the forgotten treasures they’d accumulated.

Shrugging, Rowan leaned forward to get a better look and fondly bumped his shoulder against hers.

“Don’t think so,” he rubbed at the stubble shadowing his face as he thought about it. “Probably not since we moved in.”

Aelin hummed in answer and quickly picked through the papers. “I forgot we had all of this stuff.” She paused, thinking, and dove back into the box, this time with purpose. “Do you know where the portraits are?”

A light breeze blew a strand of blonde hair into her face and Rowan reached out to tuck it behind her ear.

“Which portraits?”

“You know,” she waved irreverently, “the ones done by…what’s his name?”

“Oh of course,” he amended seriously. “Those portraits.”

Huffing a laugh, Aelin fell back against the swing and swatted his shoulder as he chuckled. “You know who I’m talking about,” she insisted.

Truth be told, they’d had so many pictures taken and portraits painted that he didn’t know where to start with his guessing. His wife could be referring to anything.

“Leo?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Johannes?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Vincent?”

“Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing her hand down her face, “this is going to bug me all day.” A second later she popped back up and turned towards him with wide eyes, “Oh! You know what I really wish we still had?” she asked.

He wished they could have saved all their keepsakes, but that would’ve been impossible. “Not a clue.”

“Those busts we had back in Ἀθῆναι,” She said, her eyes growing distant as she fell back into a memory from their younger years.

He hummed, knowingly. “Those were nice. But I doubt they’re in Athens anymore.”

“No, I know that.” She said sitting back and leaning into him, getting closer as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I think the last time I saw them was in Constantinople.”

“Istanbul,” Rowan corrected.

“What?” she turned her face to see him from where she’d tucked herself into his side.

“It’s Istanbul.” He said again.

She blinked and then rolled her eyes as she understood what he was saying. “Well, it was Constantinople.”

“And now,” he poked her, earning himself a startled laugh, “It’s Istanbul.”

“Whatever,” Aelin snorted. “I still miss those statues.”

Rowan kicked one leg out and began rocking them again, careful not to overturn the box. “You know where they are,” he reminded her, “we could always go see them.”

She scrunched her nose up. “Yeah, but I don’t like paying an entry fee to see myself.”

The breeze picked up and the pair enjoyed a few minutes of quiet, broken only by the faint creaking of the swing and the birds and insects outside. She absentmindedly took his other hand in hers and couldn’t help but think back –

Back to when they were young and naïve and had no idea what sort of life they would have ahead of them.

Back to their beginning.

The land of their childhoods was rich, and their life a simple one. Most everyone around them were farmers or fishermen, soldiers or tradesmen. There were scholars, artists, and builders.

Aelin learned stories of gods and heroes and gave tribute to Athena, the patron goddess of her home. She learned how to weave from her mother, and waited for the day she was set to marry the son from a family her father wanted ties with.

Rowan worked and studied and then became a soldier, fighting in bloody battles across the city-states before he returned to wed.

The two had always known they would be married. Their families arranged it long before either Aelin or Rowan were old enough to offer their thoughts. But they were happy. It was well.

For a while, their life was as ordinary as any others in their Polis.

It wasn’t until the two of them had watched their families grow old that they realized their own lives were different. Unchanging. Everlasting.

They learned how to adapt.

The armor Rowan wore became stronger; the language of the orders being shouted changed; Democracy, philosophy, and art flourished. Wars raged. The land they lived on changed names and changed again.

Sometimes years passed when Aelin and Rowan were apart, separated for one reason or another. Other times, decades went by without notice, time losing the meaning it once had. But they always gravitated back to each other.

They met as Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn.

They reunited as Aeliana Galanis and Romulus Whitheia.

As Eleyn Galliano and Rowland Whitton.

As Astrid and Warin.

As Alana and Royce.

There were some names they liked better than others.

They saw empires rise and fall. A world they once called home became ancient.

And as the world became more complicated – as royalty and religion shaped the nations, conquering and separating territories, as battles waged and revolutions erupted, as explorers flung themselves to the far reaches of the earth – Aelin and Rowan found their lives drifting apart from one another until they only had their memories and a knowing sense that someday they would find each other again.

"Whiskey. Neat." He drawled, dropping his dusty hat onto the bar top. The wood was scratched up from too many glasses missing their mark. And sticky, too. Not that he'd say so. He was a smart enough man not to complain to the lady behind the bar. Even it meant swallowing back a grimace at the thought of putting that hat back on his head. "Ma'am."

The woman was already halfway finished pouring the bottle. She had known it was him before he’d opened his mouth; but she smiled when his voice hit her, having recognized the sound of him walking ‘cross those old floorboards and taking a seat at his usual stool – the one right in front of her.

She’d had lifetimes to recognize him.

Still turned away, she shelved the dark bottle of booze back where it belonged.

For a moment, it reminded him of the day he found her here.

He’d been up in Oregon near the California border, following a late wave of gold seekers when he caught whispers of a town a few days south of him, where a woman was holding down a claim to the saloon. A real Calamity Jane if there ever was one.

He knew she was somewhere out here, that she’d ventured west at the call of adventure. Hell, he’d braved across the frontier too, slowly working his way from ranch to ranch and crossing lands that didn’t exist on the maps he’d once held.

But knowing there was a chance of finding her again, and actually hitting pay dirt were two very different things. He had ridden into town knowing not to get his hopes up, but when he stepped into that saloon, heavenly shaded and cool from the high-noon sun, he knew it was her.

She’d been standing behind the bar with her hair woven into a loose braid tossed over one shoulder. Her well-worn clothes somehow suited her just as well as laced-up gowns, pirate’s trousers, or peploi of their youth. Her skirts were long but didn’t look heavy and she had pushed the sleeves of her blouse up to combat the heat. Around her waist, she wore a holster which didn’t surprise him one bit and he supposed running a saloon warranted the pistol that she’d slotted in there.

He was walking towards the bar before he knew what he was doing, and when she lifted her arm to count the bottles she’d lined up on the shelves, he caught sight of the small scar on her forearm. If he still had any doubts, seeing that blew them all to the wind. He could recall with deafening detail the day she’d gotten that scar, the spatha blade that gave it to her, and the Roman general he’d killed for it.

Her back was still turned towards him when he slowly sat down on the stool across from her.

“Aelin.”

In an instant, she went completely and utterly still.

She would know his voice anywhere. Know him anywhere. And even if she hadn’t, there was only one person who would ever call her by that name.

Lifetimes worth of memories flashed behind her eyes as her heart began pounding a thunderous beat. She felt like all the wind had been knocked from her, yet also it was the first time she could breathe in years. She wasn’t sure how that was possible. But then, she’d long since given up deciding what was possible and impossible when it came to him.

And her mind was putting in the licks like a six-shooter horse; like she was electrified.

Carefully setting the bottle in her hand back down on the countertop, slowly, so slowly, she turned to face him.

As they locked eyes a million different emotions flew across her face and he was sure as a gun his was looking the same.

She smiled, wide and bright, and her eyes lined themselves with silver.

“Linny,” she breathed, her first word to him in over half a century. “It’s Linn, actually, but everyone ‘round here calls me Linny.”

Her voice was dipped in that sweet, honeyed drawl they’d been surrounded by. And he laughed, feeling like the years just melted away because she did too. The kind of laugh that said more than words ever could.

A few men at a nearby table looked over to see what all the fuss was about, but it was a joke that only the two of them knew the punchline to.

And then, having been reminded that they had eyes on them, she was reaching across the old wood bar holding out her hand. “Linny,” she said again, still beaming at him, “Linny Gale. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” she trailed off with a knowing smirk.

He remembered every instance in which she had looked at him with those same twinkling eyes, and by the growing elation of her face, so could she. He cleared his throat and took her hand in his, smiling even broader when his roughened skin met hers. “Roe Wyatt.” Her smile softened into something special. “At your service, ma’am.”

Roe hadn’t known what came next for him, but what he did know was that she was here – staying. So, he stayed, too.

As she set the glass of whiskey in front of him, that day from almost a decade prior faded away and she brought him back with the small curve of her lips as she greeted him, “Sheriff.”

At least here, in this dusty town on the far side of the world, filled with desert rats still scrounging for that elusive gold, and where he's wearing the badge instead of running from it...at least here he gets to see her face every day.

*****

Life out here was tough, Linny knew that, but she liked it. And she liked it much more now that Roe was back in her life. Point is, she knew folks made their money any way they could, especially the women.

She’d seen enough life to know what it’s like when you don’t have the resources you need. So for every working woman who found herself under Linny’s roof, she’d be offered a spot as a barmaid, pulling in the pieces so they wouldn’t feel like they needed to work upstairs. But if they did, they wanted to - and for that, all the power to ‘em. Everyone who frequented her saloon knew that if they misbehaved themselves with those women, they’d be looking down the barrel of her shotgun.

The first - and last - unlucky man who mistook her for a painted lady didn't make it back out that door.

Linny knew her way around a broken bottle well enough that the Sheriff ordered another round and watched two of the regular old boys clean up the mess. Most of it, anyway. He knew there was still a spot near the end of the bar where the wood’s stained darker than the rest. She thanked him mighty finely for turning a blind eye, too. She was sweet on him like that.

To everyone else in town, it was a mystery why they ain't gotten hitched yet. They all saw the knowing glances and conversations with so many in-jokes it sounded like they were speaking a different language. She never accepted any other man’s courtin’ and folks from around these parts knew not to try anymore, especially when the Sheriff only ever had eyes for her.

They knew not to mess with Linny Gale, too, because if she didn’t get you first, the Sheriff would make sure you never stepped foot in town again; and if some Hay Seed thought he was quicker to the draw than Roe Wyatt, he either ended up food for the buzzards with a lead plumb between his eyes or was found crawling out the back of the saloon while the arsenic-flavored whiskey he got served hit its mark.

To everyone else, his calling on her was moving slower than molasses in January.

They didn’t know the half of it.

*****

“Howdy, Miss Linny. Sheriff.”

She half smiled at the old man taking a seat on a bar stool two over from Roe. She was already grabbing a glass and pouring as she asked, “What can I get’cha for?”

He chuckled when he saw she’d already poured his whiskey. “You know me too well.”

“And whose fault is that y’old honeysop,“ she laughed.

He’d gulped down half the drink and the skin at his eyes crinkled. “My mammy used to say that…honeysop…I ain’t heard no soul say that since ‘fore I could look over the dinner table.”

Her small smile was wistful as she wiped down the countertop and grabbed another glass, using a different rag she’d slung over her shoulder to give it a good wiping down.

“I’m an old soul.”

He chuckled; eyes distant, lost in a memory. “Yeah, m’ mammy was too.” He looked up and smiled the way he did at his little grandbabies, “A sweet thing like you is too young for that.”

Linny kept wiping down glasses sharing an automatic glance with Roe. A small smile graced her face as easily concealed mirth danced across his.

Setting the last glass down, she tossed the towel back over her shoulder and leaned closer to the older man. “Sweet talking me ain’t gonna pay off your tab, Rolph.”

“Always gotta try, ma’am,” he huffed a laugh and stood, finishing the last of the amber liquid.

Linny shook her head fondly and Roe lifted his hand in a wave. “This is the last one, ya hear?” The old coot held his hand over his heart and smiled before walking out into the blaring sun.

“How many last ones ‘ve you given him?” Roe asked, still nursing the drink she’d poured him a while ago.

A huff of air blew a stray blonde lock out of her face. “A few.”

“You’ll run this place out of business ‘f you keep doing that.”

“He’s sweet,” she rested her elbows on the bar and leaned in, “He’s been taking wildflowers up to Madam Briar’s twice a week. Sometimes I see them ambling together down by the general store.

“He don’t mean no harm. He calls me young and sweet; I like it.” She laughed and he smiled. “And don’t you be worrying about this place. She ain’t in trouble yet. I always overcharge those rowdy boys that breeze in from the next town over. Don’t know why they keep coming back, sure as hell not for my welcoming, not after one couldn’t hold his booze and was sick as a horse all over my floor.” She huffed indignantly but then shrugged. “But I’m keeping my shutters painted and bottles full ‘cause of them so they ain’t so bad.”

Most days were right as rain. Linny handled her saloon with little trouble, but if there was any left after she was done, Roe used his badge to finish it.

So, when some fella too big for his breeches moseyed on in, you could cut the tension with a knife.

The saloon fell silent, something Linny might’ve marveled at if it weren’t for the no-good Saddle Stiff who’d sauntered in looking for hell to pay. The man took one long look around the room until his eyes landed on Roe and the star-shaped badge on his chest.

“You the gunslinger ‘round these parts?” His voice was rough and hard when he stepped in front of the Sheriff.

Barely blinking, he eyed the newcomer up and down, then he took a long sip of his drink and looked him square in the eye before gesturing with his half-empty glass to Linny. “You best be taking that up with her.”

Scoffing, the man didn’t even look at her. “You that cowardly a Sheriff you’ll let some hussy take your beatin’?”

Any lingering whispers went completely quiet as Roe slowly stood from his stool. He had a few inches on the man and didn’t bother fighting off a smirk when the newcomer tried squaring his shoulders to look as big as him. The Sheriff held the man’s gaze as he finished the rest of his whiskey before stepping closer and looking down at the lunkhead.

“First off, partner,” Roe drawled in a low voice. “I don’t let her do anything. Second,” he stepped closer, forcing the other man to falter before regaining the ridiculous bravado he walked in with. “You come in here, rilin’ everybody up, hollerin’ for the man in charge, I’ll tell you this – you’re in this town, in this saloon – she’s in charge. And she don’t take well to outsiders walking in here acting like they know their ups from downs.

“Finally,” Roe took another step into the man’s space and shoved his chest with one hand before gripping the material in his fist and hauling him up. “You ever call her that again, you’ll really have to deal with me, and you don’t want to deal with me after spitting on this here lady.” He leaned closer and practically growled, “You won’t be walkin’ ‘way from that.”

Roe let the man drop back down flat-footed and watched as he stumbled but looked between the Sheriff and Linny who’d been watching the scene. He made some sort of decision and went to open his mouth trying to say shit nobody wanted to hear but before he could get two words past his gullet, Linny reached into her skirts, pulled out a loaded pistol, and aimed it straight between his eyes.

“Get your lousy ass outta my establishment.” She cocked the gun, not batting an eye. “Or I’m ‘bout to have another dead body on my premises. That ain’t gonna look so good to the Sheriff.”

Said Sheriff caught the bead of sweat finally dripping down the man’s face and shrugged. “Don’t know nothing ‘bout no body.”

Linny smirked and flashed him a wink before refocusing on the man standing on the other side of the bar. “Now, you gonna get back on that ruddy horse of yours that’s scaring all the fillies outside?” she asked. “Or are you gonna make me get my floors dirty?”

Having no sense of what he’d walked himself into, the man looked her up and down holding that pistol with a steady hand, and scoffed. “That supposed to scare me, Calico Queen?”

Roe slammed his fist on the bar and gripped the man’s shirt again, but Linny’s brows just shot up.

“Oh, you ain’t scared of this old thing?” she asked airily. One second the pistol was pointed at him, the next the flickering gas lamp in the corner of the saloon shattered in a rain of broken glass as a bullet lodged itself in the wood directly behind it. “That was giving me a damn headache anyway. What about this one?” she set the pistol on the bar and reached below it, pulling out a long shotgun.

The front doors came swinging in hard enough to crash against the walls as they pivoted on rusted hinges. Another man, a local who helped tend the horses, ran in breathless unaware of what he’d walked himself into.

“Sheriff!” he panted. “Need your help breaking up a brawl out front.”

Roe looked at Linny who had the situation very much in hand and let go of the scamp who wouldn’t be breathing much longer. Adjusting his hat, Roe nodded to her. “Duty calls, ma’am. For both our sakes, when you pull that here trigger, at least corral him outside will ya?”

“Fine by me, poppet. Less mess in here for me to clean up.” She smiled at him. “That’d be all yours to handle, Sheriff.”

And it was.

And they stayed in that town until they couldn’t.

And then they left. Together.

“Where do you want it, Ace?”

Annie – Ace – pulled out her deck of luckies and lit up a butt, inhaling and blowing the smoke out in a practiced ring. The alley she was standing in was blocked off from the main road and, for extra precaution, always had a protective pair of eyes on the entrance; not that anyone would notice the guards, she was too smart to orchestrate anything so obvious.

Keeping her face neutral, she surveyed the haul of smuggled liquor brought to her by one of the active bootleggers in their employ. The two men behind her stayed quiet; stoic, as she blew another smoke ring. She spotted in a second that the poorly concealed unease radiating off the man wasn’t because of the loaded weapons either of her boys was carrying. She looked the bottles over once, twice –

“You’re just the bees’ knees, Cal. Always bringing me the best.” She indulged him a bit, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, and watched the tension ease out of his shoulders.

“Anything for you,” he grinned shakily and kept fidgeting. The damn sap was sweating bullets. He tried making small talk and she let him think he was getting away with it for another minute before she stopped him from lamming off.

“One thing, you old Mug,” her voice dropped all sweetness, and as she stared him down, all the blood drained from his face.

Jerking her head at one of the trouble boys behind her, he wasted no time in pulling out a gat and pointing it at the idiot who thought he could fool her.

“Do you take me for a Dumb Dora? A patsy?” She asked steadily, smirking when she heard the trigger being cocked. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know the fucking difference between profitable giggle juice and piss-poor hooch.”

The man was shaking now but she had no patience for disrespect. Not here.

“I—I don’t, I don’t know what you’re spittin’ about, Ace.” He stammered.

“That’s Mrs. Thorne to you.” She corrected him, arching a brow. Turning on her heel she ignored Mr. Weston’s pleading and said to her trigger man, “Don’t make a mess. This damn alley smells bad enough.”

The other man who’d been standing behind her reached for the door holding it open for her without a word. She flashed him a smile and walked back into the speakeasy. Annie was immediately surrounded by raucous laughter and brassy jazz music, it was just enough to drown out the shot fired behind her and the thud of a body hitting the ground.

*****

Owen loved the sound of the big band. It never got old, no matter how many nights he spent sitting in this drum, putting down glasses of champagne. He liked even better, that no one bothered him at his table in the corner – no one he didn’t want bothering him, that is.

He especially liked it because he had a clear sight of both doors, the stage, and the bar. Not to mention he never had a problem picking his Ace out of the crowd. The club may have been bedecked in lights and gold, but his wife always shined brighter.

Tonight, he spotted her standing next to a young doll who looked scared enough just to be standing in a juice joint, let alone able to enjoy herself. But the longer he watched them, the more at ease the girl looked in Ace’s company.

“Don’t be getting the jitters, now,” Annie rubbed a comforting hand down the girl’s arm. She couldn’t have been older than twenty, and it was obvious she’d never been in a place like this before. “You see those fellas in the corner there?” she nodded towards a pair of men halfway through a bottle of gin, each with a fine damp on their laps. “Those boys are coppers.”

When the young girl looked back, startled, the blonde laughed and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Lose those heebie-jeebies. You’re safe here.”

Annie looked over the girl’s head and saw that her man was already looking at her. Like always. She gave him a subtle nod, which he immediately returned, setting down his glass and gesturing to one of the men standing to the side of his table. Ace didn’t need to hear him to know what her husband was ordering.

“No one in this joint is a danger to you, you have my word.” At the girl’s still skeptical look, Ace smiled conspiratorially at her. “Take another look around, you see that handsome guy sitting there – no don’t stare – people in here listen to him. And he listens to me.” She leaned in closer and the girl finally smiled, making Ace’s smile wider. “He is absolutely dizzy with me. Now, let's get you a delicious glass of bubbly,” She snapped at one of the nearby waiters who came by and handed the girl some champagne. “Relax here at the bar and listen to our sweet canary sing. I heard her practicing her verses earlier and she's lovely.”

Leaving the girl in good hands, Annie snagged her own glass of champagne off a passing waiter and strutted across the dancefloor towards Owen. Her dress shimmered under the lights as she flounced to her husband’s table which was now occupied with a couple familiar faces. He didn’t falter in his conversation as she gracefully draped herself across his lap and wrapped an arm around his neck, carding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Ace,” he squeezed her hip in greeting, “you remember Lore and Fen.”

“Ain’t you a looker,” Fen winked, and Annie smirked, feeling her husband’s grip on her hip tighten.

“Down boy,” she chuckled, crossing one leg over the other and subtly leaning closer into Owen’s embrace.

“They were just telling me,” he explained to her, “that our buddy at the station got word some Dry folks want to take matters into their own hands.”

“They don’t think the coppers are doing their job,” Fen leaned back, smirking. “Not finding and shuttin’ down all those corrupted, underground joints.”

Annie snorted and turned over her shoulder to look at the two Johns drinking away with badges hidden somewhere in their jackets. “I think they’re doing a swell job.”

Her laughter was echoed by Owen and Fen, but Lore just rolled his eyes at her flippancy.

“Those damn teetotalers think they’re so high and mighty,” The man gritted out, glaring daggers at the policemen in the corner – darkly enough Annie was surprised the boys didn’t drop dead on the spot.

“Cut it out, Salterre,” Annie chastised. He redirected his glare to her and even though she felt Owen stiffen, she merely smirked at the glowering man. “If you keep up looking so sore, people are bound to notice, and then those fellas will get made. It won’t take a genius to figure out why a man sitting comfortably at this here table is looking to pop one of them off.”

“I don’t think Salterre has ever sat comfortably.”

None of them paid Fen’s comment any head, but Annie’s smirk widened just a fraction.

“Yeah?” Lore goaded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it between his teeth. “And why would that be so bad?”

Before she could answer, Owen beat her to it.

“What, you killing them? Or someone noticing you want to?”

“Both?” The dark-haired man asked, unconcerned. “Either? No one’s gonna be crying over a couple less coppers.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Salterre.” Annie snapped, staring hard at him. “You kill them? That comes back to bite us. I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re smart, but I know you have eyes.” She ignored his sneer. “Look around and tell me how many people are in the club? Tell me how many people would be able to say that they saw those boys here.”

“So? That’s bad for them, not us.” He shrugged dismissively.

Annie downed the rest of her champagne and wished for strength. “No one in here but a few of us,” she looked pointedly around the small circle, “know they’re coppers. Anyone else would just know that they recognized those two goddamn faces in here before you supposedly cut ‘em down. That leads questions coming back here, to our establishment, to you, to us. That is not what we fucking want. It's the whole fucking reason we pay those boys off in the first place – so that they won’t be bringing questions around here. We help them, they help us. That’s how this works, rattlecap.”

Annie snapped her fingers and a fresh glass of champagne found itself in her hand. She took a long sip before threatening, “If you think you’re above all that, then I’ll be handling you myself.”

Lore didn’t say anything when she raised her brows at him, he just shifted his gaze to her husband as if he would contradict or chastise her. Owen leaned back in his seat, pulling her with him as they settled into the plush cushion.

“You heard the lady,” Owen simply said, instead.

And with that, Fen started snickering and Lore stretched his arms out on the edge of the booth as he silently seethed. The band picked up the first notes of a new song that had Annie twisting on her husband's lap to listen to the music.

When she rested her head against Owen’s he squeezed her hip again and fondly muttered, “Ace.” Some days it was her sweet nickname, on others it was a curse, and sometimes, like right now and said in a way that made her turn to press a red-lipped kiss to his cheek, it was a prayer.

*****

The wind roared around them as their car sped down the road. Owen was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other half-hanging out the window. Annie smiled as the scenery flew by in a blur. Tall buildings and crowded streets gave way to green foliage and open land.

The engine purred and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. She’d seen a lot of discoveries and creations, and she always wondered how they could ever get better, but they usually did - things always evolved and spurred the invention of new things. She remembered the journeys in horse-drawn carriages and knew that back then she wouldn’t have been able to dream of a day like today, flying down the roads in a beautiful car, the engine powering them to its limits.

Getting close to the house, Owen pulled off the main motorway and took a winding, private road that wound them beneath blooming trees, their canopies painting the pavement in shade.

The house wasn’t extravagant; in fact, it was incredibly modest. It was something her husband had built in his early days on this continent. Long before the Great War, before the Gold Rush, before the Civil War, and revolutionary battles. Back when they both were searching for something new and took those leaps, journeying across the ocean.

Their lives sometimes felt like swinging pendulums, positioned closely enough to intertwine, drawing them together indistinguishably, but angled just so and pulling them apart when they least expected.

As she reached for Owen’s hands and intertwined their fingers, squeezing once, she vowed to never let that happen again.

It wasn’t long before they’d brought their bags in and decided to take a walk along one of the trails beyond the house.

“Do you think we have to worry about Lore going rogue?” She asked quietly, leaning into Owen’s arm.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head, carding one hand through his un-slicked back hair. “He has a temper but he’s smart. Worst he’ll do is give ‘em some words, but he wouldn’t do worse than that. He knows it’ll only go bad.”

“I think you give him too much credit.”

“I think you give yourself too little,” he countered, and at her raised brow he chuckled. “He’ll put up a fight, but he won’t cross you.”

Annie hummed. “As far as he’s concerned, you’re the one he should be holding back for.”

Owen barked a laugh. “If you honestly think that he doesn’t know who is really calling the shots then you are severely underestimating him.”

“I’m not underestimating his intelligence. I’m insulting his lack of tact.” She told him as they kept walking. “You know we work together; I know we work together; they know we work together; but most of the fellas packing heat and doing the work still think you have the final word. And that works because it allows me to do things I need to do without as sharp an eye watching my moves.

“And if Salterre keeps pushing, then it won’t be long before everyone knows exactly how I can handle things – and that will be bad for both of us.” She pulled back and smirked up at his amused expression. “How do you think our supply is the best in town? Because I go out and make friends with all those grimy bootlegger’s dames; and between us ladies, things get done, arrangements get made, deals get sorted. And then, without watchful eyes on our lovely, delicate selves, we get our fellas to follow through with those deals…and the world goes round.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, agreeing. “Enough about that. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Good.”

“And, Ace?” he laughed again, “You and I both know that every son of a bitch who works with us knows damn well that you’re packing as much heat as any one of them.”

They fell into companionable silence. There was no one in the world she felt as comfortable around.

“Do you remember when we got married?” She asked him suddenly.

“Of course, I do, Ace. It wasn’t that long ago.”

Her dress brushed against her legs as the breeze picked up.

“No, not this time,” she said. “I mean the time during the revolution.”

They kept walking steadily as he thought. “Which one?”

“The European one,” she elaborated.

He glanced down at her again. “Which one?”

“Oh, stop you sap,” she nudged his rib fondly. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, I know what you’re talking about.” He stopped them and turned her to face him. “I remember every wedding I’ve had with you. I remember every ceremony and every dress. Every officiant. Every wedding night. And the only – only – thing that is good about the years when we’ve been apart is that every time we were, I knew I had one thing to look forward to: finding you again and getting to learn who you’ve become.”

“Ἀγαπῶ σὲ,” Annie whispered, silver-lined eyes staring up into his deep green ones.

“Te amo.”

“Ti amo.”

“Je t’aime.”

“I love you.”

**************

Sitting on their aging porch swing, Aelin found herself sorting through faded pictures. There was one of them in a poodle skirt and leather, of flared bell bottoms and disco lights, of wild hair and rock concerts they still sing along to. There was one of them from New Year’s Eve, bedecked in glitter and tassels that had been shot off the moment that the millennium ended. And another one, taken a few seconds later – thank you Polaroid technology – of Rowan dipping Aelin, his arms wrapped around her as they both smiled too hard to really keep up their kiss, as they welcomed a new day, a new year, a new century and millennium. Giddy about what was to come.

“I think that’s enough reminiscing,” she finally whispered, reorganizing the images and replacing the lid on the box.

“Yeah?” Rowan asked, just as quietly.

Aelin smiled, pressed a kiss to his lips, intertwined their fingers so their wedding bands glinted in the fading light, and answered, “Yeah. For now.”

*******

@acourtofsnakes @a-frog-with-a-laptop @astra-ad-mare @autumnbabylon @backtobl4ck @bankerfrog @becarefuloflove @camerooonchiu @captain-swan-is-endgame @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @doubt-less @earthtolinds @elentiyawhitethorn @feyretales @goddess-aelin @highqueenofelfhame @jorjy-jo @julemmaes @leiawritesstories @lemonade-coolattas @llyncooljones @mariamuses @moodymelanist @morganofthewildfire @nerdperson524 @rhysiedarling @rowaelinismyotp @rowaelinrambling @rowanaelinn @shyvioletcat @stardelia @superspiritfestival @sv0430 @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @the-lonelybarricade @the-regal-warrior @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @rowaelinscourt

#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #throne of glass #rowaelin fic #tog #rowaelinmonth #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelin au #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn #rowaelinscourt

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leiawritesstories · 8 months

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Stick Season (Part 1)

Rowaelin Month 2023, Day 1: Song Fic

inspired by "Stick Season" by Noah Kahan (giggles in Frederick) I've had so much fun writing this and I am beyond excited to share it with all of you! happy Rowaelin Month once again! <3

Word count: 2,480

Warnings: swearing, bad decisions, heartbreak, not-great parenting, angst, simmering sexual tension, pining idiots in love but they won't admit it

Enjoyyyy! (yes there will be more, i promise)

@rowaelinscourt

Prologue

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

Downtown Orynth, Vermont, still looked exactly the same as it always did when Aelin paid her occasional, brief visit to her hometown. Same “cozy” wooden buildings, same storefronts lining Main Street, same pine boughs wrapped around the light posts, same dusting of snow brushed across the rooftops in a postcard-picture kind of perfection. Same kindhearted shopowners waving at her as she strolled down the cleanly swept sidewalk.

If she smiled hard enough, maybe she could pretend there wasn’t a gaping hole in her heart.

Three years since she cut the other half of her soul out of her life, and no amount of friendship and laughter and girls’ nights could fill the empty chasm that leaving Rowan left in her.

“Aelin?” The voice came from her left as she passed the local bookstore, a place where she’d spent some of the happiest hours of her youth.

She turned. “Philippa!” A genuine smile curved up her lips. “I didn’t think you were still working here all the time.”

Philippa waved off the mild protest with a flippant hand. “You know how busy it gets at this time of year, my dear.” She pulled Aelin into a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you again!”

Aelin melted into the older woman’s motherly embrace. “Want to know a secret?”

“Is that even a question?” Philippa laughed, opening the bookstore door and nudging her inside. “I live to collect secrets.”

“Of course you do,” Aelin chuckled. “Well, here it is: I wasn’t planning to be back home this year. Or next year. Or anytime soon, really.” She blew out a short, sharp sigh. “I’m only here because…well…” She trailed off, not fully ready to voice the reason she’d returned.

Philippa patted her arm. “It’s alright to let yourself grieve, dear. Your mother’s passing was a shock to all of us.”

“And something of a relief,” Aelin mumbled under her breath.

Ever tactful, Philippa pretended not to hear. “Will you be here through New Year’s?” she asked, smoothly changing the somber subject.

Aelin nodded. “Yes. I’ll drive back to New York sometime around January fifteenth, unless Dad needs me for longer. I’m working remotely until then.”

“Thank goodness for modern technology, right?”

“Right.” She half-grinned. “I don’t suppose you’re still resisting that modern nonsense, hmm?”

Philippa pretended to hide. “You caught me.”

Aelin fake-groaned. “How many times have I told you that it will help the bookstore grow? Think of all the customers you could reach with something as simple as a website and maybe an Instagram profile!” Pasion seeped into her words, coloring her thoughts with excitement. “And you could easily keep up with the online orders–that crappy old monitor you have barely runs basic word programming, let alone internet.”

“You be nice to Mort, now,” Philippa teased. She’d named the bookstore’s ancient computer Mort in honor of the many times it had brushed with death.

“Mort deserves to be laid to rest once and for all,” Aelin laughed. “Are you trying to keep me in town or something, asking when I’m heading home?”

“Maybe.” The older woman’s laugh lines crinkled as she grinned. “Or maybe I’m just planning to offer you a job here while you’re in town.”

“You know I work in publishing, right?” Aelin raised her brows. “I’m pretty sure that’s enough books and book stuff for one woman.”

“How long has it been since you remembered why you work in publishing in the first place?”

The question made Aelin stop in her tracks, mind whirling as she sifted through years of memories. “I…years. God, it’s been…years.” For a moment, yearning flickered across her face. “Maybe not since the last time I volunteered here at Christmas.”

“Exactly.” Philippa gave Aelin’s hand a motherly squeeze. “Christmas season is far too busy for one old woman to handle alone. So…will you help me?”

A fond smile curved Aelin’s lips. “Of course I will.”

Snow-dusted evergreen boughs adorned the lampposts of downtown Orynth, weaving their crisp pine breezes through the early evening air. Hands tucked into the pockets of his quilted flannel jacket, Rowan strolled down Main Street, determined to avoid being sidetracked into one of the golden-lit shops that smelled invitingly of cedar, maple sugar, pine, and spiced cider. Christmas scents always had been his weakness, despite the pain he couldn’t separate from the holiday.

A single paper bag dangled from his left wrist, the only sign that he’d been out shopping for the holidays. His entire brood of cousins was about to descend upon Doranelle, the next town over, for the next few weeks, so he’d come into Orynth to pick up a few things. He refused to admit that the massive canister of peppermint hot cocoa mix was an impulse buy–it had been on sale, and he knew how much his relatives adored all the sweet holiday treats.

It had nothing whatsoever to do with peppermint hot chocolate being Aelin’s favorite. Nothing.

“Whitethorn?” The call came from his left.

Rowan turned towards the voice. “Who–”

“Whitethorn! It is you!” Aedion Ashryver stepped out of Staghorns Tavern, a popular local brewery. “Come inside, man, have a drink.” He pulled Rowan into a brief, back-slapping hug. “Good to see you again.”

“Good to see you too, Ashryver.” Rowan returned the hug but hesitated at the offer of a drink. “I dunno about the drink, though.” He raised his shopping bag. “Gotta go home and prepare the place for the Whitethorn horde.”

Aedion snickered. “You’re still letting them crash at your place, huh? Thought you would’ve liked the house to yourself every once in a while.”

Rowan shrugged. “It’s a big house, and I live alone all the rest of the year.” He flashed Aedion a smirk. “Besides, Sellene and Enda would just barge in anyways, so I might as well allow it.”

“Fair enough.” Aedion glanced into the brewery, waving off someone inside. “You sure you don’t want to grab a quick drink? I feel like we haven’t seen each other in forever.”

“Yeah, give me a rain check on the…” Rowan trailed off into silence, his brain stalling at the sight of Aelin Galathynius opening Stag’s door and grabbing her cousin by the arm, halfway through a teasing jibe about Aedion wasting his body heat trying to warm up the December chill.

“...not worth it to–oh.” Her wide-eyed turquoise gaze slammed into Rowan with all the force of an avalanche.

“What are you doing here?” The question, though whispered, tore out of him with the force of a deafening scream.

Aedion brushed a protective touch over Aelin’s shoulder, murmured something softly into her ear, and slipped back into the brewery, wisely leaving the two of them alone.

She swallowed thickly and steeled her spine, meeting his stare head-on. “I’m home for my mother’s funeral and the holidays.” Her tone was cool, detached, nothing more than an old acquaintance responding to a casual question.

“I–I had no idea,” Rowan murmured. “I’m so sorry, Aelin.”

“Don’t be.” She snorted quietly, her shields snapping back into place as swiftly as they’d fallen. “About Evalin, Rowan. Don’t be sorry.” A pause, a crack in her controlled exterior. “I can’t say I am.” Her expression sharpened. “Can I ask what you’re doing out here…um, by Staghorns?”

He read the unspoken question, finding himself surprised that she hadn’t asked outright. “I was in Orynth to pick up a few things before my cousins get here tomorrow, and I was heading down towards the parking lot.” Downtown Orynth was strictly car-free, so the town had built parking space by the edge of the no-traffic zone. “Your cousin saw me, so I stopped for a bit.” And held off the alcohol, he added, silently.

She nodded in understanding. “I…I should go.” She turned.

“Wait!” Unexpectedly, he reached for her hand, stopping himself with bare millimeters between his skin and hers. “I…when are you leaving?”

“After New Year’s.” The words were clipped.

The shields encasing his heart slammed back down with finality. “So you’ll just up and leave again, no warning, not telling anyone?” He laughed, a sound as brittle as the winter air. “I don’t know why I expected any different.”

“Some things never change,” she whispered, half to herself, her voice teetering dangerously close to anguish. Without another word, without a backward glance, she yanked open the brewery door, walked in, and vanished into the crowd packed into the bustling space.

His heart a tangle of stormy emotions, Rowan turned on his heel and strode down the rest of the street, not stopping until he reached his pickup. There, he dropped his shopping bag in the back seat, leaned himself against the truck’s battered old green frame, and breathed as deeply as he could. Eyes screwed shut, he allowed the flood of memories to wash over him, sinking into the aching familiarity of her golden hair and wild laugh, her burning resilience and unwavering strength. The watery croak of her voice when she told him she was sorry three years ago. The tsunami of anger and rage and grief and torment that had ripped through his whole being for weeks after that afternoon.

Then he locked those precious, shattered memories back into the dark recesses of his mind, swung himself up into the truck, and drove off into the December night.

Three Years Ago

Rowan pulled into his driveway in shell-shocked silence, muscle memory guiding him out of his truck and into the house. He kicked off his boots in the mudroom, shook the loose snow off the soles, and placed them neatly on the rack. Numbly, he shed his thick winter jacket and hung it on its peg, made sure he was free of tray snow and ice, and walked into the warmth of the wood-paneled house.

A beer bottle shattered at his feet the second he came through the door.

“The hell y’been, boy?” His stepfather’s slurred words were barely distinguishable.

“Work, then the store.” Rowan had learned years ago to keep his words as brief and subdued as possible, lest he face another of Arobynn’s famous eruptions of drunken wrath. “Picked up another six-pack.” He placed the case of beer bottles on the kitchen counter.

Arobynn squinted at the six-pack. “Leas’ y’did one thing right,” he sneered. “Clean up the fuckin’ floor, boy.” He grabbed two bottles of beer and stumbled back out into the living room, where he collapsed into his reeking, tattered old leather recliner and lost himself in his usual world of alcohol and blaring television.

Rowan clenched his fists and jaw and picked up the broom. He made quick work of the broken glass, dumped it in the trash bin, put away the broom, and grabbed some food as he hurried off to his room. Arobynn’s alcoholism was a blessing, in a way–he confined himself to that side of the house, not moving much between the den, the kitchen, and his bedroom and bathroom. It meant that Rowan could stay in the master bedroom, which was at the other end of the house, and keep the rest of his family home as clean as possible.

Every time he looked at the single portrait of his parents that adorned his bedroom wall, he swore he could hear their sorrow at the state of their once-beautiful home.

That goddamn crash had taken so much from the Whitethorn family.

Rowan was only a child when he lost his dad, and his mother had been so buried in her grief that she’d failed to see the giant blaring red flags of the first man that showed her any affection. She’d married Arobynn Hamel partially out of what she thought was love and partially out of necessity; the property needed another pair of adult hands to maintain it, not to mention another income. It was only a few months before Arobynn’s true colors showed themselves.

For five years, Rowan’s mother had stayed strong, protecting her son by sacrificing herself. She’d protected her son from his stepfather’s fits of drunken rage, from the anger that reverberated through the house, and even from the knowledge of her medical diagnosis. When he lost her, too, Rowan lost all hope that his life could be anything but alcohol and anger and abuse.

Then he went away to college and met Aelin, and her warmth rekindled his frozen soul.

Watching her drive away from him mere hours ago had ripped the fragile, carefully patched scraps of his heart into bleeding shreds.

Fuck it. If he didn’t blow off some steam now, he’d do something he’d regret later.

As silently as possible, Rowan slipped out of the house, crossed the snowy yard to the barn, hauled open the door that desperately needed some oil, and flicked on the overhead lights, illuminating the large, chilly, wooden-beamed space. He’d slowly transformed the barn into a gym over the years, picking up old equipment at estate sales and local gyms who were remodeling or getting rid of old machines and other stuff. Right then, he only had eyes for the punching bag–his favorite way to release the pent-up anger his fists itched to rain down upon Arobynn’s worthless face.

He took off his jacket and sweatshirt, pulled on his well-loved boxing gloves, and strode over to the punching bag. With a grunt, he launched into a punishing round of strikes and punches, pummeling the taut leather sandbag with enough force to send it rocking on its chain. That first volley loosened the knot of tension in his chest, opening the floodgates, and every tangled, indecipherable, raw emotion he’d bottled up came pouring out in the erratic rhythm of his gloved fists (and occasionally his shoes) against the punching bag, interspersed with hoarse yells, broken shouts, curses, groans, and grunts. He lost himself in the slap of leather on leather, barely remembering to draw breath, slapping and punching and kicking until the flood of grief and pain and rage had subsided enough for his head to clear.

Chest heaving, rare tears seeping hot and salty down his face, Rowan sank to the weathered wooden plank floor, buried his head in his hands, and felt the crushing weight of abandonment, an old familiar companion, press down upon his shoulders once again.

Although he didn’t know it, Aelin was curled in the same position on the floor of her childhood bedroom, her face buried in her hands, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks. The same anguish tore through her ruined heart, a white-hot knife of grief and guilt piercing her to her core. Leaving him was the last thing she ever wanted to do; it was like splitting herself in half. Yet she had left him, tossed him to the snowy curb without a backward glance. Leaving him shell-shocked on the edge of the highway, heart in his throat and the winter wind whistling through his empty hands.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #stick season #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin modern au #based off a song #song fic #rowaelin month 2023 #rowaelinmonth2023 #stick season the fic #inspired by noah kahan ofc #rowaelin winter au #rowaelin holiday au #winter holiday au

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highqueenofelfhame · 8 months

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froggyheart & frogger 💚

canon week starts tomorrow over at @rowaelinscourt ! i haven’t written anything yet because life has been crazy but i DID draw Rowaelin as frogs bc…. well, because i have the tism and frogs are a special interest and rowaelin are a special interest. our OTP. i like to think this is sometime around the end of heir of fire or something, who knows.

i’m obviously not an artist, pls be nice. this was just for funsies and me and my boyfriend giggled the entire time i worked on it.

happy rowaelin month 💚🐸

#rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin’s court #rowaelin #tog #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #fireheart #buzzard #heir of fire #hqoe draws #hqoe doodles #frogs #book characters as frogs

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goddess-aelin · 8 months

Note

For Rowaelin, them being dilf and milf

Thanks for the wonderful prompt!! Sorry it took me so long to get to this but I thought it was perfect for Rowaelin Month! This is for day 13: babies/kids/next gen

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none!

Aelin always took his breath away. Always. It was an undeniable fact. The grass was green, the sky was blue, Aelin took his breath away. But standing in their kitchen, getting ready for a night out with her Lysandra and Elide, she took more than his breath, she took his whole godsdamned soul.

Standing by the counter trying to get an earring in, her tight, black dress glittered slightly in the low lights. He sucked in a breath when she turned, exposing the back, or lack thereof, to him.

“Are you sure you have to go out?”

She chuckled. “I will remind you that you were the one who told me to go out, Buzzard.”

He smirked as he sidled up beside her, pulling her to his chest. “Did I? I don’t ever remember saying that. In fact, I think I told you that you should stay home, right here with me where no one else can see this dress.” He accented each of his last words with a kiss to her cheeks, her nose, her neck.

A tiny wail broke them out of their reverie. Ah, yes, the reason that Aelin needed to get away in the first place.

At 8 months old, Alma was still in the fussy stage, especially because she had just started teething. But Rowan wouldn’t have it any other way. She was a perfect blend of both of them, her green eyes enrapturing Rowan from the moment he saw her and her fiery personality already showing through, likely from her mother.

Aelin hadn’t had a night out since Alma was born. Sure, they went to restaurants for a an hour or two, just the two of them. But she needed time with her girls, Rowan knew. Aelin would never ask for it, feeling as though she was being a bad mother or somehow putting more work onto him. So he secretly texted Lysandra to set up a night out for Aelin. And when Aelin was reluctant to go, he encouraged her that she needed a night out. Eventually, she relented and admitted that it would be nice to go out for a change.

So here they were, Rowan taking care of Alma while his wife stood in the kitchen, looking like the sexiest MILF he’d ever seen. When he told her as much, she just threw her head back and laughed, the sound igniting his bones in a way only she could. He loved her so much and was happy that she was going to enjoy a night out. His Fireheart.

- - - - -

When Aelin got home at 11pm, she expected Rowan to be in bed and Alma to be snoozing soundly. She stopped in her tracks when she beheld what she found instead. Rowan. In the Kitchen. Wearing their baby.

It was enough for tears to pop into the corners of her eyes. Fine, perhaps she had a little bit to drink. But these tears were happy tears. Ones that sprout from the joy of seeing their little family.

But as the tears dried, a different, headier feeling ignited in her belly. Gods, who gave him the right to be so Godsdamned sexy? His hair was skewed all over, giving him a rumpled look that made her toes curl. He was wearing simple pajama pants and…nothing else. Well, except for the baby strapped to his bare chest. And Gods, did it do things to her.

He finally noticed her standing in the doorway, giving her a sleepy smile. “Hey, Fireheart. Did you have a good time?”

“Mhmm.” She knew her eyes were slightly glazed. But who could blame her? She was slightly distracted.

“Feelin’ pretty good, huh?” He chuckled.

She just giggled and crossed to where he stood in front of the oven. “What exactly are you doing wearing our baby and…” she sniffed the air. “Baking?”

Rowan’s hand came around her, pulling her into his side while his other hand rested on Alma’s back. “Well, I know how snacky you get when you drink and Alma wasn’t sleeping so we decided to bake some cookies.” He looked down to Alma’s chubby, smiling face, rubbing his nose with hers. “Didn’t we, Alms?” The tiny girl giggled and squirmed, flailing her arms and legs uncontrollably.

Aelin could physically feel her heart turning to mush.

“Why don’t you go get changed and the cookies should be done by then?”

Aelin nodded but lingered a few seconds longer, just staring at her little family.

Rowan gave her a bewildered look, furrowing his eyebrows in a way that was comically similar to Alma. “What is it? Do I have flour on my face?”

Aelin couldn't help the loud laugh that escaped. “No, Buzzard. I just…” She sighed happily. “I just love you.” She strode the few steps back to him and allowed herself to be pulled into a tight embrace, Alma sandwiched between them. The little girl didn’t seem to mind if her heavy eyelids were anything to go by, having been lulled to sleep by a sense of security and love.

“I love you, too, Fireheart,” Rowan whispered. He gave a quick peck to her lips and went to turn back to the cookies.

But before he turned, Aelin caught his arm, leaning up toward his ear. “And this whole shirtless while wearing our baby thing? Incredibly hot.” As she backed away from him, her gaze turned half-lidded. To Rowan’s credit, he didn’t break eye contact with her until she reached the stairs.

It wasn’t long before she heard the heavy footsteps trailing up the stairs behind her, hurrying to put Alma down and then making their way closer to her, probably more quickly than he had moved in a while. She stifled her giggle. Rowan would never cease to make her heart flutter and her belly to ignite. But the best thing was how full she felt when she thought of their perfect little family.

A/N: I adore rowaelin as parents 🥹 thanks again for the prompt!

Tagging:

@cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire e @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @highqueenofelfhame

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelin month #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #my fic #my fics

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writtenonreceipts · 8 months

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Rowaelin Month Day Fifteen: Meet the Parents @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist Hey, Neighbor Masterlist

The titles for this are getting increasingly more stupid. My humor is also getting increasingly more stupid. Anyways…please forgive the crummy formatting...

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

Hey, Traitor

>>Aelin: can i ask you for a favor?

Rowan stared at the message for longer than was necessary. He’d had Aelin’s number for a while now, and she’d had his. But their texting hadn’t been anything worth mentioning. In fact, he’d wondered if Aelin had regretted exchanging numbers. But here she was at eight in the morning requesting his help.

Sitting back in his seat, Rowan glanced at his phone one more time before answering.

<<Rowan: What’s up?

>>Aelin: If I leave a key hidden outside my door, can you check on Fleetfoot for me tonight? Something came up and I won’t be back until late. She’ll be cooped up all day. <<Rowan: Yeah, not a problem. >>Aelin: Are you sure? I only have time to swing back home for a minute for the key thing. I know you're busy. <<Rowan: Aelin, it’s fine, I don’t mind. <<Rowan: … is everything ok?

She didn’t respond as quick as the other times and it wasn’t long until Rowan got distracted with other things that had come up.

He was off for the next two days, which he wouldn’t complain about. The ski slopes and trails had been getting dumped with snow over the last several weeks which had made for long days of rescue and clean up. It was the first break he’d had in ten days and while he was eager to simply relax--he owed it to Aelin to help her out.

After a quick home workout followed by a smoothie, he was going to get started on some paperwork for reapplication on his certifications. There were things for his firearms, physicals, and CPR renewals. They always ended up needing to be taken care of around the same time. It didn’t help that he tended to put it all off until the very same day.

His phone lit up with an incoming call and Aelin’s name flashed on the screen.

“Galathynius,” he greeted.

“Rowan,” she said, the usual lilt of amusement to her voice was strained but all he could really focus on was the way she said his name. “Fleetfoot is in a mood, so I’m sorry about that. But I think I should be back by seven tonight. If you could just make sure she gets food at five? I’m sorry again to ask you—”

“I have the day off,” he said, gently cutting her off. “It’s really not a problem.”

Aelin exhaled slowly as she considered what to say next. Rowan thought about teasing her—it was so unlike her to be speechless and frazzled, but he thought better of it.

“Alright,” she finally said. “I’ll let you know when I’m back. Her treats are in the cupboard above the sink. Don’t let her fool you, I do not starve her.”

Rowan chuckled at that. “Noted.”

“Thanks,” Aelin said, Rowan heard the ticker of her car go off quietly in the background. “I can pay—”

“Knock it off, Aelin,” Rowan said. He was a bit firmer on this than he meant to be, but hell--this was probably the least inconvenient favor someone could ask of him. “I’ll go pick the demon up now.”

A small pause. “She’s an angel, but alright.”

“Bye.” Rowan hung up before she could try and offer to pay him again.

He shook his head before standing and heading to the door. No use letting Fleetfoot be by herself when he was home anyways. He crossed the hall and started to unlock the door when he heard the dog on the other side, nose snuffling at the bottom door jam.

Rowan barely had the door open when Fleetfoot wedged her way through and tried barreling into him.

“Demon dog,” he muttered. Fleetfoot wiggled excitedly and bumped into his legs. Crouching down, Rowan gave Fleetfoot her scratch after scratch. “Yeah, yeah. Attention starved, just like your momma, huh?”

Fleetfoot whined and tried licking his face. It was only ten in the morning and Rowan suspected the dog hadn’t even been left alone very long, but she was already eager for company.

Rolling his eyes, Rowan ushered the dog back inside Aelin’s apartment.

“We’re going on a fieldtrip, girl,” he told Fleetfoot.

The dog, simply happy to have the company, pranced around the apartment as if showing off every corner to Rowan. She even grabbed one of her toys laying on the floor and brought it over to him. She dropped it at his feet before running off to find another toy. And another.

Hanging on a hook next to the door was a leash, studded with chew marks, that Rowan grabbed. He also took the small roll of poo-bags on the entry table. There was no way he would make it through the afternoon without getting Fleetfoot outside. And he figured Aelin wouldn’t mind if they just took a quick trip around the park.

The apartment was a mirror of his own, but Aelin had obviously gone through more of an effort to make hers a home. Between the dozens of pictures hanging on the walls, the large bookshelf stuffed full of books and bookish paraphernalia--Aelin had gone through a lot of effort in making things comfortable and real. Rowan had always been moving or too busy to ever stay in one place very long. Hell, the two years here in Terrasen were the longest he’d been anywhere that he could remember. He didn’t even have a picture hanging up aside from a gag gift his cousin got him ages ago.

Shaking his head, Rowan went to the kitchen and grabbed the treats that Aelin had indicated. And then, because Fleetfoot sat so neatly before him, he tossed her one of the treats. He also made sure to grab Fleetfoots food and water dish with the portioned cup and a half of dog food.

Fleetfoot seemed to gather something new was going on because she kept dancing around the kitchen whining.

“Let’s go,” Rowan encouraged and Fleetfoot bolted for the door. “Easy now.”

He made sure he had everything he needed before slowly cracking the door open. Despite her rambunctious energy, Fleetfoot behaved and waited for him in the hall while he locked up Aelin’s place and led the dog to his.

As Fleetfoot explored all the new smells and sights of his apartment, Rowan stored the gathered items and made sure he set out fresh water. He’d never had a pet himself, the closest he’d gotten was when he was a kid he’d tried to capture a hawk out in the woods. All he’d succeeded in doing was getting burs all over his clothes. But it had also given him a love for the outdoors.

Now as Fleetfoot bounced around his apartment, Rowan found he didn’t mind the extra company.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Rowan asked.

Fleetfoot froze, nose buried between the cushions of his couch. Her ears perked up and her tail twitched.

“Let's go,” he encouraged. And that was all the dog needed.

…

Aelin’s phone buzzed once more as she piled into her car after the miserable day of screaming clients and incompetent bosses. She expected it to be another picture of Fleetfoot—Rowan had been keeping her well supplied with them--but instead saw it was her mother calling.

Hell.

“Hey mom,” Aelin said into the phone. She balanced it against her shoulder as she settled into her seat. “Can I call you back—?”

“Your father and I are coming over.” Evalin spoke over Aelin, likely not ever hearing her daughter to begin with. “We have another box of your old things.”

“Now?” Aelin asked. Of course they had to pick the worst times. “Mom, it’s been a long, miserable day. I just want to snuggle my dog.” She started the car and waited for the Bluetooth to connect. “Can’t you come tomorrow?”

“We’re already on our way,” her mother replied breezily. “Tell Rowan we’ll see him soon!”

“Love you, Fireheart!” her father yelled from the other line.

“Wait!” Aelin yelped but the call was already disconnected.

Why did the universe hate her?

Cursing the entire way that she drove home, Aelin debated what do to. She doubted she would make it to the apartment first and if Rowan were watching her dog, she wanted to give him a heads up for her parent’s arrival. Not that it was a big deal. Even if her parents were still under the impression that she and Rowan were dating, watching someone’s dog for the day didn’t mean anything. And Rowan had actually gone out into the mountains to run Fleetfoot through the trails, he probably wasn’t even home. The last picture he’d sent her was of Fleet devouring a pupcup from Starbucks. So maybe he was out of the house. Which meant she had nothing to worry about.

Right?

Still, as she parked her car and ran inside her building, Aelin tried to call Rowan.

“Pick-up, pick-up, pick up,” she chanted as the call continued to ring through.

She slid into the elevator that an older woman held for her. She smiled gratefully as she entered. When she was going to press the button for her floor and found it already lit.

“Oh,” Aelin said in surprise. “Hi.”

It wasn’t strange to have someone book the same floor, but Aelin had never seen this woman before in her life. Except there was something…familiar about her…

Hell in a handbasket.

Aelin fumbled with her phone and spat out a text.

>>rOWAN?? I tnk we have a shitation

She didn’t care for the errors or messed up spelling. Because if there was one thing Aelin would recognize anywhere--it was those pine green eyes.

>>ROWAN >>ROWAN >>RO

“You wouldn’t happen to know Rowan, would you?”

Aelin nearly dropped her phone, trying to wipe the guilt from her face.

This had to be worse than nearly falling down a ravine.

“Yeah, actually, we’re neighbors,” Aelin said. She even managed a smile. Though she was seconds away from crawling out the top emergency hatch of the elevator. She could do it she watched plenty of crime shows, how hard could it be?

“He’s lived here two years and hasn’t had me over.” Mrs. Whitethorn rolled her eyes. “Though, I do live across the country.”

“It took me a full year to actually learn his name,” Aelin said, “he was really cranky for the majority of that time.”

Mrs. Whitethorn laughed. “He’s always been difficult.”

The elevator pulled to a stop as Aelin’s phone buzzed with a text. Rowan had gotten back to her, too late.

Rowan: Help. Crisis. You know how I feel about socializing. Rowan: AELIN?!

The doors opened and Aelin fought against every cell in her body to not burst forward and streak down the hall to her apartment--only to find that the hall was filled by her parents. And Rowan. And her dog who was far too overjoyed by being surrounded by so many people.

Fleetfoot whined and tugged against her leash. Rowan glanced up at the commotion and the look of relief at seeing her followed immediately by existential dread that Aelin wished she could have enjoyed more.

“Ma?” Rowan’s strangled voice rose at least two octaves as he stared at his mother getting off the elevator beside Aelin.

“You have to start answering your phone dear,” Mrs. Whitethorn said.

“I was busy,” Rowa replied, his words stilted as he looked to Aelin for help. But truth be told she was going to be useless in saving them from this mess.

When Fleetfoot gave another hard tug on the leash and Rowan released her.

The dog barreled down the hall to Aelin with barely constrained enthusiasm. Aelin gratefully took the opportunity to ignore everyone and come up with a plan.

“Hi sweet girl, did you have a good day with Rowan?” she asked as she gave Fleetfoot a good pat down. The dog only wiggled and yipped and tapped her paws.

She had to come up with an excuse something to say because her parents, who thought she and Rowan were dating, stood in front of her apartment sharing significant looks and Rowan’s mother was now starting to look at Aelin with new interest. This was going to turn into a cluster. And absolute cluster of all fu--

“Ma,” Rowan said again when it was clear Aelin was going to be the problem child in this situation. “You met Aelin, these are her parents, Rhoe and Evalin.”

The brief greeting gave both Rowan and Aelin a chance to collect themselves and have a brief staring contest that miraculously resulted in a form of communication.

No this was not going to end well. The lie must persist. I am so sorry.

“Please call me Iona,” Mrs. Whitethorn said as she shook Rhoe and Evalin’s hands. Her gaze immediately cut to Rowan. It was a look only a mother could give her child. “I’m just making sure my son hasn’t gotten into too much trouble, seeing how busy his schedule’s gotten.”

Aelin swore she saw Rowan’s cheeks redden. Oh she did like the woman.

Rowan looked ready to die as he ran a hand through his hair. “I was helping Aelin out today with Fleetfoot.”

Miraculously the dog remained on her best behavior as she leaned into Aelin’s legs, accepting head scratches.

“Because he’s such a good boyfriend,” Aelin added. She wasn’t exactly sure why they had to continue this facade; it wasn’t like her parents would actually care (aside from trying to start setting her up with other men again). But it seemed like a natural thing to do and Rowan didn’t put up a fight.

“It wasn’t a problem,” Rowan said, “once I remembered Fleetfoot is exactly like you and needs constant snacks, we were fine.”

“Haha.” Aelin would have flipped him off if the circumstances were different. Instead she settled on a smile that promised payback in one form or another. She waved her keys in the air. “Let me get Fleetfoot inside and I’ll get that box from you dad.”

Maybe it was cruel to leave Rowan in the hall with the two mothers, but Aelin was still trying to figure out a way to end this mess without getting roped into any other appearances as a couple. Plus, she just wanted to snuggle her dog.

“It’s just some of your old trophies and awards we didn’t want to throw out without your say-so,” Rhoe said, settling the box on Aelin’s couch. He glanced back at the open door then at Aelin. “You only let Aedion watch the dog.”

“He was busy,” Aelin said. She made sure Fleetfoot found her favorite toy before facing her dad. “And Rowan owed me a favor.”

Maybe. She couldn’t remember exactly what the tally was. Maybe they were even now.

“Right, sure,” her father simply nodded along, obviously unconvinced by her words.

“So you drove all the way out here to drop off a box of crap?” Aelin asked. She nodded to the hallway. “Aren’t meddling or anything?”

Rhoe only laughed and came over to drop a kiss to Aelin’s forehead. “Us, meddle? Fireheart, we wouldn’t dream of it.”

It was the biggest lie he’d ever tried to tell her.

After that it was easy enough to get her parents out of the building, they were going to meet friends for a late dinner and drinks. Aelin was never more grateful to send them off far, far from here.

When Iona tried to invite Aelin over to Rowan’s for ice cream (Aelin highly doubted Rowan knew what ice cream actually was) she was able to finagle out of it. Rowan insisted Aelin had a long day and needed the rest of the night to relax. Aelin had never been more grateful.

As lovely as Iona was, Aelin wasn’t sure she could spend any more time pretending about her and Rowan’s relationship. It seemed…wrong to do so. And, really Aelin didn’t much like lying.

So when she was finally back in her apartment and able to collapse on her couch with a bag of chip and glass of wine—Aelin finally felt like she could relax. And she needed it. Her day had been long and stressful after several clients hadn’t finished there edits on time causing a pushback in the next addition of the magazine. Meaning Aelin had to spend more of her time editing instead layout design and her own writing.

It simply had felt like nothing could go right. So now, curled up on the couch, Aelin let out a long sigh.

Fleetfoot lay in her bed across the room, letting out a long huff.

“C’mere, baby,” Aelin called, holding out a hand. “Come snuggle.”

Fleetfoot ignored her and instead huffed again.

Sometimes the dog got an attitude, but after the entire day apart Fleetfoot usually enjoyed settling on the couch beside Aelin for a lazy night.

Aelin glared at her dog. “You want to go see Rowan don’t you?”

Fleetfoot’s ears perked just a little as her dark eyes shifted to the door.

“Traitor,” Aelin said.

She took a long sip of her wine and started one of her shows.

Not long later, her phone buzzed with an incoming message.

Rowan: that could have been worse Rowan: a lot worse Aelin: ehhh, my dad may try inviting you over for sunday dinner soon. Aelin: he’s very tired of the fact mom and i don’t watch football Rowan:we can move to Washington. They have mountains and forests and coffee Aelin: oh you're in on this now? Rowan: my mother has sent me ten messages in the last three minutes, all about you…I think she likes you more than me

Aelin grinned at her phone, unable to help the warmth seeping through her body. She tugged her sweater up, gnawing on the seam as if trying to keep that smile secret even if she was alone in her living room. She hadn’t made the joke about randomly moving to the middle of nowhere, but the fact he remembered and brought it up just hit different in that moment.

Fleetfoot whined from the floor and gave Aelin a significant look before trotting over to the door.

Aelin: yeah well my traitor dog is pining after you. Rowan: please your dog is an angel

She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up even as she pressed her fingers firmly to her lips. This was ridiculous, she was acting like a twelve-year-old girl with her first crush. But as Aelin stared at the messages and pictures Rowan had sent her throughout the day, she found that the bit of joy sparking in her chest wasn’t entirely bothersome.

Aelin: thanks again for the help with fleet today Rowan: anytime

A part of her wanted to keep messaging, to keep talking with him, but she knew she couldn’t. He didn’t think of her as anything more than a neighbor, maybe a friend. And she didn’t want to push any boundaries and risk anything. She sighed and let the message dangle on read before pulling her blanket up her legs and turning on her tv.

As she settled into one of her shows, her phone vibrated with one more message.

Rowan: have a good night, fireheart

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

love yall, hope you enjoyed!

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowaelinmonth2023 #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #fanfiction

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goddess-aelin · 7 months

Text

Putting Out Fires

For Rowaelin Month day 26: taking care of the littles solo

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: none!

Alma Whitethorn Galathynius, six years old and eldest of three children (so far), was a beautiful and gentle soul. That is, when she wasn’t being a little hellion. With a strong gift of fire from her mother, Alma inherited the famous Galathynius temper and penchant for “accidentally” setting things on fire. Her four-year-old younger brother, Errin, was no better. While he also had fire powers, they were thankfully much weaker than his sister’s, especially since he also inherited his father’s strong gift of ice and wind, Rowan’s twin. Errin, though, found it funny to chase his sister, hands aflame and ice covering the floors to make it more difficult to run.

And not to mention poor Leven, the newly two-year-old who tried and failed to keep up with his older siblings. Leven, unlike his siblings, had a quiet disposition, contemplative and cool headed. While he wasn’t usually easily upset, his siblings chasing each other with flames certainly put a damper on his mood.

To put it short, Rowan was absolutely, positively exhausted.

Aelin left for Adarlan two weeks ago, hoping to meet with Dorian and Chaol to forge new trade agreements. Rowan had excitedly volunteered to stay home with their children instead of taking part in the courtly bullshit. But he didn’t anticipate that not having Aelin as a buffer would tempt his two oldest into becoming creatures sent by Hellas himself. If only Lorcan could see him right now.

Carrying Leven from his quiet room where the youngster was napping into the chaos of the playroom was like walking into a warzone. Rowan swears his hair was singed by a fireball passing by his head. Putting Leven down, the boy immediately latched onto his leg, not willing to take part in his siblings’ antics. Rowan, however, needed to get this under control…and fast. Otherwise, Aelin would be coming home to nothing but a burnt crisp of a castle.

“What is going on?!” Rowan tried to use his best booming voice, the voice of a commander, but he didn’t do a very good job. His voice came out as a squeak instead since a fireball shot directly toward his head once again, which of course, made Leven clutch his leg harder and tears form in the poor boy's eyes.

Rowan cleared his voice and tried again. “WHAT IS GOING ON!?”

The room went silent except for Leven’s sniffles. Both Alma and Errin’s hands were wreathed in flame, covering their tiny hands like wraps for sparring. A quick once-over of his kids informed Rowan that, luckily, no one seemed to be injured or burned.

Both Alma and Errin just stood there for a moment before spurring back into action. It all happened so fast. One minute, they were standing in front of each other, and the next, Errin’s little hand was holding the drapes. Still on fire.

“No! Don’t set fire to the–” Rowan was cut off by a wave of water dousing the flames. Huh, he thought. That’s new. Both Alma and Errin were frozen, looking bewildered as he felt. As far as he knew, neither Alma nor Errin had water powers, which left… “Oh my Gods!”

Rowan looked to his youngest, still clutching his leg but now with an outstretched little hand. He had an adorable pout on his face and it reminded him so much of Aelin that he could help but let a cackle escape.

Picking his youngest son up, he asked him, “Was that you, buddy? Did you put the fire out?”

Still pouting, Leven nodded. “Water.”

A smile burst over Rowan’s face. “That was amazing! You’re only two and you just put that big fire out!” He tickled his son’s belly and the youngster started giggling. His two older ones made their way over, bashful and embarrassed.

“We’re sorry, Daddy. We were just playing,” his oldest stated.

Bringing his arms around all three of them, he pulled them into a tight hug. “I know, my loves. You just have to be careful, especially inside.” He could feel Alma and Errin lay their heads on his chest and shoulder, Leven still in his arms, holding onto his neck. “I think that finding out Leven has water powers calls for some cake, yes?”

All three of his children started jumping up and down eagerly, having inherited their mother’s love of cake.

Afterwards, the kids were luckily more pliant and subdued, allowing Rowan to give them baths and get them into their nightclothes. With all three of them tucked into bed, Rowan was looking forward to absolutely passing out once he reached his own.

He was almost asleep when the patter of little feet reached his ears. In the doorway was a tiny shadow with long hair: Alma. The small girl crossed the room to where Rowan was laying and crawled her way up onto the massive bed.

“Daddy,” she whispered. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

As he sat up and started rubbing her back, he replied, “Did you have a nightmare?”

The little one shook her head. “No, I just missed you.” Rowan’s heart melted at that though he couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle as he pulled his daughter into his arms.

“You just saw me five minutes ago, little bird.”

“But I miss Mommy, too. And I want to sleep in here.” She crossed her arms and pouted, Aelin through and through.

“Okay, okay. You can sleep in here. But you have to sleep, okay? No playing.”

“Okay, Daddy! I’ll sleep, don’t you worry.”

Rowan made to lay back down but instead of resting next to him, Alma hopped off the bed and padded once again toward the door. Like a tiny mother with her little ducklings following behind, three figures now walked toward his bed. One by one, his children climbed up onto the bed and tucked themselves in beside him. Leven, only two and still fairly small yet, couldn’t reach the bed himself so Rowan hauled him up.

“I don’t think I remember agreeing to having three little birds in my bed.” A chorus of giggles broke out. Soon enough, though, his children’s light snores reached his ears and lulled him to sleep.

- - - - -

Something woke Rowan the next morning, though it was still before dawn. As his bleary eyes sharpened, a familiar figure was standing by the side of the bed, taking in the scene.

“Fireheart,” he whispered. “You’re home.”

She bent down to kiss him, short and sweet though not without feeling. “I’m home.” Her gaze turned to their three little ones snuggled up against Rowan. “And why is everyone in my bed?”

Rowan let out a soft chuckle. “The little masterminds formed a plan and ganged up on me to sleep here. I didn’t know you’d be back yet. I can move them.”

Aelin shook her head. “No, leave them be. I’ll snuggle in on the other side.”

Moments later, their three children were sandwiched between the two of them.

“Soon we won’t be able to fit all of them in here.”

Rowan gave her a knowing smile. They hadn’t told the kids yet that Aelin was expecting another sibling again but he knew they’d all be overjoyed at the prospect of another baby to spoil and scheme with. Rowan reached his hand to rest on Errin’s back, sleeping in the middle. Aelin’s covered his moments later and Rowan couldn’t help but thinking he was so godsdamned lucky.

A/N: I’m slacking so hard on the prompts this past week but I’m hoping to get some out after this month is over! Hope you enjoyed!

Tagging:

@cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @tothestarsandwhateverend @highqueenofelfhame

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelinscourt #rowaelin au #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #my fic #my fics

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writtenonreceipts · 8 months

Text

Rowaelin Month Day Twenty Two: Magic/Shifting Lessons with the Kids @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist

~1k words, another day of poor editing

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

Father and Son

The screams were what drew Rowan’s attention first.

He couldn’t scent any blood so he knew it wasn’t terribly urgent. Nor could he scent any pain either. But when his children were involved, it was best to put an end to screaming as soon as possible. The last time he and Aelin had tried to let them scream it out the entire west wing of the palace had nearly been destroyed.

So, Rowan picked up his pace as he rounded the corner down to the practice yard where he knew his two oldest should have been working on their sword formations. He came face to face with a young soldier instead, likely on his way to find him or Aelin.

“Ah, your highness,” the young fae said. He bowed shortly, refusing to meet Rowan’s gaze. “The children--”

“Are causing problems again, aren’t they?” Rowan finished. The soldier’s eyes only widened to a comical size. “I’ll see to them.”

Without saying anything else, he swept past the soldier and out to the yard. It indeed was chaos.

Two of the practice dummies had been obliterated. Hay streaked in every direction, barrels overturned, and Meiri stood center of it all. Her blonde hair was, as always, in disarray, and her tunic mussed up. She pointed her wooden practice sword at a crate where Rowan could just make out Finlay hiding behind.

Oh good. They were getting along swimmingly.

“Come out, Finlay!�� Meiri shouted. She was sixteen and well on her way to taking over the world. “You can’t hide behind that.”

“You’re cheating.” Finlay, nearly fifteen, kept his position with his own practice sword clutched in his hands.

Rowan could at least pride himself on the fact he insisted they not use real weapons on each other unless he, Lorcan, or Aedion were present.

“I’m not cheating!”

“Are too!”

“You can use magic too, if you actually tried!”

Meiri’s words were not meant to be cruel exactly, but she was young and confident and could be rather arrogant in her own abilities. Exactly like her mother. And Rowan knew how Finlay would take the words all the same.

He waited until Meiri finally noticed him.

“Da!” she exclaimed. “Would you please tell Fin this isn’t how you fight. He’s embarrassing himself, really.”

“Stand down, Meir,” Rowan said. He dipped his chin at his daughter who frowned, but lowered the wooden sword all the same.

Rowan nodded in approval before going to the crate where Fin was still hiding behind. It wasn’t often that the lad acted like this. He was indeed proud and hated displaying weakness of any sort. But he was also still young and barely coming into maturity. Rowan could only guess what was going on in his son’s head. So he eased himself onto the ground right beside Fin, crossing his arms over his knees in a relaxed position.

Finlay groaned. “Oh, would you just leave me alone?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and banged his head against the crate.

“I’m the only one equipped to handle the two of you when you get like this,” Rowan reminded his son.

“Meiri’s insane,” Fin hissed.

“I heard that!” Meiri shouted from behind them.

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Not now, Meiri.”

His words were followed by a huff and stomping feet. Rowan waited a bit longer until he knew Meiri had fully retreated to the weapons room. He looked at his son.

Finlay was a near replica of Rowan himself. Silver hair, tan skin, and green eyes. Though…Rowan would swear Fin’s eyes changed on occasion. No matter. It was still a bit disconcerting at times to remember the fact that he, Rowan Whitethorn, had a son. Even if he’d had over a decade to get used to the fact.

“What happened?” Rowan asked. “Couldn’t summon ice or couldn’t aim?”

Fin said nothing as she stretched his long legs out before him.

“By the looks of it, you got a bit out of control?” Rowan pressed.

Fin banged his head against the crate again.

“It’s hard to control early on,” Rowan said, he tried to channel the way his own father trained him and not what he had learned trapped in Maeve’s oath. “Even harder when you’re still growing into yourself, maturing--”

“Stop talking da,” Fin said, finally looking at him. It was more like a glare but Rowan would take it.

He smothered a grin and knocked his shoulder with Fin’s. “It’s alright to struggle with your magic. But you can’t let your temper control you.”

Fin scowled. “I don’t let it control me.”

“Then why will we need to have the servants make new practice dummies?” Rowan asked. He didn’t want to embarrass his son or make this situation worse than it could potentially be. But sometimes you had to press and dig to get the answers you wanted. “Seems like something happened.”

Fin kept his eyes trained forward to an alcove across the practice yard. It was left in afternoon shadows but was as innocuous a place as any to train your attention when avoiding confrontation.

For a moment, Rowan wondered if he should call Aelin here. She’d struggled with controlling her magic and it hadn’t been centuries since that happened. Unlike with Rowan. He could still remember the vague sense of frustration, but it truly had been an age since he’d struggled so much.

“Finlay,” Rowan began as she stretched his legs out before him. “Sometimes, getting better at something takes longer than we think it will, but that doesn’t mean we give up on it.”

Fin continued scowling. “Meiri teases me for losing control. I’m trying, I’m trying really hard, da.”

It was true that Meiri’s magic had always come easily to her, that she didn’t struggle with it, that it was simply a natural extension of her being. And even though Fin had displayed his magic early on--he’d always had a difficult time reigning it in.

“That’s just Meiri,” Rowan sighed. “But she is your sister, and you do actually have to talk to her about things. Or we can have one big family dinner and talk about what it’s like to grow up and change.”

“No!” Fin shouted, grabbing the front of Rowan’s shirt. “That’ll just make it worse.”

Rowan chuckled, unable to help it. He stood and offered a hand to Fin.

“C’mon then,” he said. “I helped train your mother. I can help train you too.”

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

not ready to try tagging again... but as always, thanks for reading friends

#rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelinmonth #rowaelinmonth2023 #throne of glass #tog #throne of glass fanfiction #fanfic

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goddess-aelin · 8 months

Text

Peonies and Poplars

Written for Day 12 of Rowaelin Month-Meet Cute/Meet Ugly

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: none!

Aelin had just put her hand on the last copy of Peonies and Poplars, the newest release in her favorite book series by R.J. White, set directly after Violets and Verbena and Tulips and Tithona. Aelin didn’t just want the book, she needed it like she needed air to breathe. She had to find out what happened to the titular character, Selena, who just got captured by Lord Westbrooke, her father’s greatest enemy. Aelin just knew that Selena’s star-crossed lover, Sir Rollins would rush to save her, but at what cost?

She was filled with glee at the prospect of doing a binge-read tonight.

Though, the moment her hand touched the book, another hand, slightly larger and tanner, did the same. She slowly turned to the offender, glaring just enough that anyone else would’ve started running. But this man just gave her a small smirk right back. Aelin’s eyes narrowed even more while the hulking brute clenched his jaw.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she tried to pull the book toward her. “I need this and since I was here first, I’ll just take that.” She tried to give a harder yank on the book, which was now held between them, to no avail.

“Well, seeing as we got here at the same time, Princess, I don’t think that’s exactly accurate.” He gave a yank in response to hers.

Still holding onto the book like it was her lifeline, Aelin once again narrowed her eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to settle this the old fashioned way.”

“Mhmm and how’s that?” The man rolled his eyes. “Flipping a coin?”

Aelin let out a humorless cackle. “Ha. As if I’d be so stupid. No, we have to have a good, old fashioned ‘who knows it best’ standoff.”

The man scoffed. “What does that even mean?”

“It means…” she paused for dramatic effect. When he raised his eyebrows in annoyance, she continued, “that whoever knows the trivia of the book best gets to keep the book.”

“As if I’d lose.” He had an amused look on his face..too amused. She should’ve known then.

“You’re telling me that you, Mr. Tall and Brutish, think you know this fantasy romance series better than I do?”

“Fantasy Romance has no gender stipulation, Princess. And judging by your attitude, I have a feeling you’d fit right in with Lord Westbrooke’s daughters.”

Aelin gasped. “You little–”

“Uh uh, Princess,” He nodded toward the small child standing at the end of the aisle, watching them with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. “There are tiny ears here, no cursing, please.”

Aelin knew her face was turning as red as a tomato. This man was infuriating.

“Fine,” she whisper-yelled. “First question, Buzzard. What did Selena’s sister tell her before she ran off to meet Sir Rollins?”

A smirk crossed his face. “Well, first, I’d ask which sister you’re talking about, since she has two. Nice try tricking me. But Alicent told her that their family would never accept Sir Rollins and Magdalena told her that she’d cover for her and to go be happy.” The man gave her a self-satisfied smirk and Aelin pursed her lips. “My turn next.” The man started tapping his free hand on his chin and she could tell whatever his question was was going to be terrible. “Who is considered the best character in the series?”

“WHAT?! That’s an opinion question! This isn’t even fair!”

“Rules are rules, Princess.”

Aelin’s hand started to shake and a noise of frustration left her mouth. She probably looked like a petulant child but she didn’t care at the moment. This man was done. Even if she didn’t answer his stupid question right in his eyes, she was going to be going home with this book. “The best character in the entire series is obviously Selena. She’s amazing and witty and beautiful. She’s everything anyone could ever want and she’s just…she’s the best.”

The man clicked his tongue a few times, forming a “tsk-ing” sound. “Sorry, but that’s the wrong answer.”

“How can it be a wrong answer if it’s my opinion!?”

“Well, I actually agree with you that Selena is the best but if you remember on page three-hundred and fifty-six of Tulips and Tithona, Lord Westbrooke actually proclaims himself to be the best lord in all the land.” He gave her a smirk that she wanted to absolutely rip off of his face. Or kiss. Wait, what?

This…this absolute bastard. He knew she’d get worked up. And he knew she would get distracted. And knew she’d answer with Selena. With a final burst of strength, she tried to rip the book out of his hands, only serving to cause her to lose her balance and fall straight onto her ass.

“Miss are you okay?” The concerned voice came not from the handsome yet ridiculously terrible man in front of her but from the clerk of the store. She nodded. “Okay, great. Just to let you two know, we’re closing. Please bring anything to the front for purchase.”

She nodded, the silver haired man just standing there, looking at her with a bewildered expression. He reached a hand down to help her up but she chose to just roll her eyes at him. She didn’t need his help. She dusted herself off, leaving the man standing between the stacks and hightailing it out the door. All she wanted was the book, and now she left with a bruised ass and an even more bruised dignity.

She stopped down the street from the shop, ducking into a small alcove and putting her hands over her face. She made such a fool of herself in there and she wasn’t sure how she was going to live it down. Hopefully she would never see the clerk or the man ever again. That shop was now off her list of places to go to.

With a deep breath, she pushed off the wall and started making her way back toward her apartment.

“Miss, wait!” She turned to see the clerk from the store running after her, bag in hand. “You forgot this!”

Aelin gave him a bewildered look. “I didn’t buy anything.”

The man shrugged. “Maybe not, but it was bought for you.” Aelin just stood there as he handed her the bag and jogged back to the shop.

She opened the bag to find the same copy of Peonies and Poplars that she was just fighting over. Did that buzzard just…buy her a copy? She took the beautiful hardcover out of the bag, admiring the golden sprayed edges and embossed flowers on the cover. Opening the front cover, she saw a bright green sticky note on the cover page.

“If you want to talk more about the book, my number is 234-7783. -R”

Directly under the sticky note was a freshly inked autograph, signed R.J. White.

Aelin could only stand there as it sunk in that she just didn’t just fight over a copy of the book. She fought over a copy of the book, with the Author.

A/N: this absolutely will have a second part. I can’t just leave it like that 😜

Tagging:

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelin month #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #my fics #my fic

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goddess-aelin · 8 months

Text

Accidents Happen

For Rowaelin Month Day 2

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: having a bad day

Rowan Whitethorn planned to start his day like he always did, a cup of coffee in hand and no ambition to be more social. And then his coffee machine had to take a crap and his need for caffeine outweighed his social aversion, especially if he was supposed to deal with his hellion of a boss. Working from home had its perks, he supposed, especially since it gave him time before his 9AM meeting to run down to the corner coffee shop and pick up a fresh cup of coffee. That didn’t mean that he particularly wanted to put pants on and trudge the block to the overstuffed cafe.

But he did it anyway. Ten minutes later, wearing the comfiest sweatpants he could find and bringing nothing but his wallet and his phone, Rowan was standing in the ridiculously long line winding throughout the tiny cafe. The smell of fresh grounds was inviting even if the amount of people was not. The cafe had a certain charm, though. The mismatched chairs and exposed brick walls featuring art from local artists made Rowan not mind the crowd as much.

When it was his turn, he gave his order, left a generous tip, and stood to the side to wait for his drink to be called. Luckily, the wait time was short and just for that simple fact, Rowan fished out a few more dollars and threw them in the tip jar. These poor college kids probably weren’t getting paid as well as they should have been considering the way they were working their asses off.

Wrapped up in the contentment of finally having the familiar warmth of a coffee in his hand, Rowan completely missed the blonde woman standing behind him. Naturally, when he turned, he walked right into her. And so, apparently, did his coffee. All Rowan could do was watch with widened eyes and an apology on his lips as the stain gradually spread down the front of the woman’s white shirt. Rowan slowly brought his gaze up to meet hers, her turquoise eyes enrapturing him from the first glimpse. Well, fuck. Not only did he spill his coffee on a poor, innocent bystander, but she just happened to be one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, too.

Even Rowan’s distraction couldn’t hide the simmering anger the woman was barely containing.

“I am so–”

The woman cut him off by holding a single hand up, palm toward him. The woman repeated the gesture again, giving a slight pushing motion to her hand to make him back away slightly. She left without another word. And Rowan, well, Rowan was confused as hell.

A very sweet employee took the now empty coffee cup from his hand, throwing it in the trash and already beginning to mop up the mess he made. Rowan felt helpless though he mostly felt terrible for the victim. Hopefully none of the coffee got on the woman’s skin given how scalding the liquid had been.

A quick glance to the line told Rowan that, no, he would not have time to reorder another cup. His meeting was in less than 15 minutes and he had to get back to his apartment. Rowan pushed through the crowd that amassed toward the door, avoiding the spill he caused, and left through the exit. He started making his way back to his apartment. Correction. He would have started making his way to his apartment had a sobbing sound not hit his ears.

Sure enough, the woman from the cafe was huddled on the edge of the sidewalk about 10 feet away from the coffee shop, her bag laying haphazardly next to her and her heels kicked off. If Rowan was a normal person, he would have walked right by her and got to his meeting on time. But Rowan was, well, Rowan, and his guilty conscience would not allow that.

He shot off a quick text to his boss, telling her he would be a few minutes late because of an emergency and stepped up to the still-sobbing woman. What was the best way to approach her? A ‘hey are you okay?’ seemed to be obviously wrong and tapping her on the shoulder was a big no considering he already felt like he violated her space enough today.

In the end, he settled for a simple, “Excuse me.”

The woman turned her head, her now red-rimmed eyes glancing up to him. Once she realized who he was, she let out a huff of breath and he could have sworn she rolled her eyes before putting her face back into her hands.

“If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry and I didn’t mean for that to happen in there.” Though she didn’t answer him right away, her breathing at least slowed and her hands dropped away from her face. He took that as a good sign. Once again, he thought that normal people probably would’ve given up and walked away. But he caused this. And he would not be the reason someone was crying on the sidewalk, at least not without trying to fix it.

Maybe he was overstepping and maybe he’d regret it later, but he decided to take a seat next to her a few feet away.

“I…the coffee didn’t burn you, did it?”

The woman gave him a wary glance but after a few seconds, shook her head ‘no.’

“Is there anything I can do to help you? I can run and get you a new coffee or napkins or...if you need–”

“I’m fine.” Her voice was hoarse from crying. She cleared it a few times before attempting to speak again. “It’s just been a bad day. Bad week.” She let out a humorless laugh.

The wheels in Rowan’s brain started turning. “Wait here.” He held his hands up in supplication while getting up from the curb. “Just…wait here. Please.” He gave a half smile before running back inside. To his delight, the line had gone down considerably and he only waited a few minutes to reorder. The barista remembered his order from a few minutes before and also, luckily, remembered the woman’s order, as well. He threw in a few pastries for good measure and was on his way back out the door in no time.

To his relief, the woman was still outside, though she moved to the bench a few feet down the sidewalk. Her eyebrows raised slightly as she noticed him coming back with more than a few treats.

“This is for you,” Rowan said as he passed her the large coffee cup that smelled like it had way too much sugar in it. Once she took it, he opened the bag of pastries, their sweet aroma wafting toward the woman, whose eyebrows only went higher.

“I know you still have the stain on your shirt but I hope this at least helps make your day a little less…terrible. I really am sorry.” After a few moments of the woman still not saying anything, he started to get up and make his way back home.

“Wait!”

Rowan turned slowly, his eyes meeting hers.

“Why?” The question was barely a whisper. “Why would you do this for me?”

Rowan’s brows furrowed. “Because I was the cause of this. I spilled my entire coffee cup on you. The least I owe you is a new cup and maybe some money for dry cleaning.” She huffed a laugh at that.

“You don’t owe me anything. It was an accident, one that was just the icing on the cake of a very long, very stressful week.” She shrugged. “Accidents happen.”

Rowan slowly sat back down on the bench. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Once again, the woman’s brows furrowed and confusion crossed her face.

“You want to listen to me talk about my problems?”

“I mean, obviously you don’t have to. It just seems like you might need a listening ear.” He shrugged.

“ O…kay. Well it started when I found my boyfriend in bed with my boss.”

Rowan almost spit out his coffee. His eyes slowly gazed toward her and he noticed the small smile playing on her lips. “What a way to start a story. Seriously?!”

The smile that crossed her face did…funny things to his insides to say the least. “Technically that happened a few months ago but I did run into him on Monday, which started all these terrible events. Then my cousin, who was visiting for a while, left to go back to Caraverre, my new boss is turning out to be a total creep, I got gum stuck in my hair from someone on the train and had to have an impromptu haircut, and well…here we are.”

“Gods. I’m so fucking sorry.” Rowan couldn’t help the guilt that washed over him.

“Don’t be. It really wasn’t your fault.” She started to get up, Rowan following suit. “Well, I guess that I should get going considering I have to stop at home before going into work.” Rowan gave her a sheepish look. “Thanks for the coffee and muffins…and for listening. You know, I don’t think I ever got your name.”

“Rowan.” He stuck his hand out for her to shake.

“Aelin.”

“Aelin,” he repeated. He liked the way her name easily rolled off of his tongue.

“Well, Rowan, this may be presumptuous of me but would you maybe…want to meet up sometime? You know, if me word vomiting my baggage didn’t scare you off.” A slow smile crossed Rowan’s face.

“You didn’t scare me off. If anything, it should be you who’s scared off, what with spilling my coffee all over you. “ He gave her a sideways smile. “But yes, I absolutely would love to meet up again.” She gave him another one of those room-lighting smiles.

After exchanging numbers and going their separate ways, Rowan couldn’t help but walk toward his apartment with a little pep in his step. He was definitely about to get an earful from his boss about being late but it occurred to him that he didn’t really care. Not when the reason he was late was so worth it.

A/N: My writing is a little bit rusty but I hope this was fluffy enough that it makes up for it! I have a few other fics planned and I’m hoping that this productive streak continues

Tagging:

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelinscourt #rowaelin fic #rowaelin au #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass #tog

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goddess-aelin · 8 months

Text

Crumpled

Written for day 14 of Rowaelin Month: making up/breaking up after an argument @rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: angst, breakup (with happy ending)

A knock startled Rowan out of the trance he had been in for the last 30 minutes. From the moment he got the text, Rowan couldn’t help but have a plethora of nervous energy and dread. He kept replaying their fight in his head, wondering how in the hell they got here.

Here as in Aelin coming to collect her things from his apartment. Here as in they weren’t a couple anymore. Here as in he was missing half of his heart.

He steeled himself before opening the door, taking a deep breath and trying to calm the stampede trampling over his heart. It would be the first time he’d seen or talked to her in a week, not for lack of trying. He texted her, practically begging her to talk, asking for her to explain why. He left a handful of voicemails that he hoped weren’t too pathetic, asking how they got to this point. Yet she never answered.

Hadn’t answered until 30 minutes ago when she asked if she could collect the clothing she stashed at his apartment. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, without his heart completely shattering into a million pieces. Three years they were together, gone in the blink of an eye. So he replied with a simple “ok,” and left it at that.

And now here he was, standing at his door, trying to decide what to say, how to act. The knock came again and he knew he couldn’t ignore it. She startled when he ripped open the door with more force than he wanted, her bloodshot eyes going wide at the sight of his dishevelment.

Gone was the emotion from a moment ago as her face morphed into one of cool detachment. It gave him some sort of peace knowing that she was struggling just as much as he was. She breezed through his front door the same way she breezed through his life, a tornado caught in the golden sun.

“May I?” Her voice was raspy when she spoke. He just gestured to his bedroom with a hand, leaving her to her own devices. He decided to take a seat on the couch, the one that they chose together. Because that’s how it was supposed to be. They were a team. Until they weren’t.

Rowan replayed that night in his head a thousand times and he still didn’t know what he could’ve done to fix this. It seemed that the universe just thought the breakup was inevitable, Aelin not listening to anything he had to say.

It began when he started working extra hours and picking up shifts. He didn’t think it was a problem because he was working towards something. Aelin made him think of their future and everything that came with it; a family, a house, a dog, everything and anything. So he started working more so that when those things were finally in reach, they could be easy, attainable. He wouldn't have to work as many hours to keep up with their mortgage and instead would be able to spend more time with Aelin, with their kids and their pets. But in planning for the future, it seems he neglected to account for the present.

A week ago to the day, when he got home from one of his long shifts, Aelin was sitting stoically on the couch. She didn’t greet him with her normal cheery “hello,” didn’t give him a kiss, just sat silently. When he asked her what was wrong, she asked him if he even loved her anymore. Rowan was so taken aback that he acted out of anger, snapping and asking her how she could ever even think that. He was so irrevocably in love with her that it hurt him to even think that she didn’t feel that from him.

Instead of trying to talk it out, though, she replied with a small “I can’t do this anymore.” Rowan was sure that if his heart was outside of his body, he could’ve seen the cracks splintering through like broken glass. He tried so hard to get her to stay, to tell her that he was working so much because she was the only future he could see. That she deserved everything that he wasn’t able to currently give her given his shitty job with shitty pay. But instead, tears streaming down her face, she slammed the door and left.

Again and again, Rowan called. He texted. He ruminated on where things when so, incredibly wrong. He knew he wasn’t home often and he knew he wasn’t the most fun to be around after a 14 hour shift and he knew he was acting weird out of anxiety and stress. But he thought they were okay, that they just had to get through the next few months and everything would be fine.

He was wrong.

Sitting on the couch, head hanging in his hands, he was so wrapped up in what he should’ve done differently that he didn’t hear the rustling coming from his room stop. Didn’t hear the sharp intake of breath. Didn’t hear the soft padding down the hall until her socks were sliding onto the rug.

He glanced up at her, not able to fully meet her eyes. He knew his own were red and teary and he didn’t need to give away more than he had to. But his eyes didn’t need to roam that far, catching on the small box Aelin held delicately in her hands. His mind went blank. She wasn’t supposed to find out like this. He had it hidden in a sock in his dresser but in the past week, he took it out too many times, just to stare at it and grieve for what should have been. He supposed that probably made him a masochist.

Her bottom lip quivered and her voice was small when she finally spoke. “It all makes sense, now.” She opened the box, a glint of gold and green catching. “It all…it all makes sense.” And then she crumpled.

Rowan’s heart broke even more to see the love of his life hunched over herself on the floor, tears streaming down her face and sobs wracking her body. He approached slowly, as if making too much noise would scare her away. Kneeling before her, he took her hands and pulled them gently away from her face.

“Fireheart,” he whispered. “Fireheart. I’m so, so sorry.” And then he broke, too. When he pulled her to him, she held him like a lifeline, as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat on a raging sea. Together, they knelt on the ugly rug Aelin always wanted to get rid of, sobbing until their tears ran out.

“Rowan, I'm so sorry. I should’ve talked to you. I shouldn’t have left or gotten mad. I should–”

He stopped her with his hands on her cheeks. “Stop. We both fucked up, okay? I was working way too much, trying to prepare for the future and in doing so, I forgot to leave time for the now, for you.” She shook her head, starting to protest but he cut her off. “No, I should never have put money and security as a priority over you.” Bringing his forehead to hers, he breathed her in.

“I should’ve listened to you, though. You were trying to save money for this.” She opened the small box once again, more tears forming. “And I was so caught up in the what ifs that I couldn’t see why you were working more, or why you were acting weird. I thought…I thought maybe you had found someone else or were tired of me.”

“Never. I could never, ever get tired of you. You’re it for me, Fireheart.” She sobbed again, burying her face into his chest. He held her tightly, hoping to convey everything he felt about her.

“I’ll make you a deal, no more working long hours as long as you talk to me whenever you feel like this, okay? I…I never want you to feel like you’re second place. You’re more important than anything and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that wasn’t true.”

She pulled back, her teary, red eyes doing nothing to stifle the beauty that she radiated. “Deal.” Bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks, their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. They had a lot to work through but he knew they could do it, together.

A/N: wow this was the angstiest thing I’ve ever written and I never want to do it again, thanks

Tagging: @cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @highqueenofelfhame

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #rowaelinmonth2023 #rowaelin month #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #my fics #my fic

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writtenonreceipts · 8 months

Text

Rowaelin Month Day Eight: Single Parent Au @rowaelinscourt

Rowaelin Month Masterlist Where We've Been Masterlist

Warnings: nothing too major? ~6.5k words

Where We've Been, Where We're Going--Part Six

Aelin awoke with a start the next morning.

Sprawled out on the small couch in the waiting room, she’d forgotten where she was for the briefest of moments. Her dreams had been filled with running through a small apartment trying to get free from her pursuer. Constantly looking over her shoulder. The impending knowledge that she wasn’t safe. Needless to say, she didn’t sleep well.

As she remembered where she was, that she was safe, she sat up and ran a hand through her hair. The small window of the waiting room showed off an early morning sky that wasn’t yet dusted with the pinks and golds of a rising sun.

Outside the door were the usual sounds of a hospital: nurses talking quietly, med carts rolling, shoes squeaking on linoleum. It hadn’t bothered her throughout the night, for which she was grateful. The hospital was slowly waking up with the usual ins and outs of operation which meant Aelin would soon need to leave.

She only had a dinner shift at the diner, and she knew Nox wouldn’t be mad if she was late, but considering she was on an hourly wage and needed the tips, getting there on time would be better for her.

Sitting up, she stretched out her sore back. She’d have to make sure not to wince or waddle when talking to Malakai or she’d never hear the end of her stubborn refusal to go home to a real bed.

She stuffed her hair into a bun, certain it still looked like a rat's nest, and gathered her jacket and phone. The battery was well on its way to dying so the sooner she got to her car where the spare charger was, the better.

As she headed up to Emrys’ room for a quick check in, she ran into Yrene who was finishing up at a nurses station.

The brunette smiled. “Hey, did you stay here all night?”

“Yeah, I wanted to be close in case anything happened,” Aelin said.

Yrene nodded in understanding. She reached out and gave Aelin’s arm a squeeze. “He’s a strong man. And stubborn as they come.”

“I know.” She did her best to smile, unwilling to break down in front of Yrene who always appeared so strong and composed all the time. “I just want to swing by the room before I head back to Terrasen.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

Yrene initialed a patient file before putting it back where it belonged at the nurses station. Her hair was pulled back in a braid, but there were a few flyaways escaping. The curls framed her face, emphasizing her dark hazel eyes.

“So, how have you been?” Aelin asked. She didn’t know Yrene very well, only from the occasional check-ups and some medication prescriptions. But, Yrene had a quality about her that spoke to kindness and surety that Aelin appreciated.

“Oh, same old,” Yrene laughed. “A few nurses quit last week so my workload increased a bit.”

She rolled her eyes even as Aelin stared in slight horror.

“It’s fine,” Yrene insisted, “I get double overtime and everything. Besides, I’ve gotten really good at sewing up barbed wire injuries.”

“You still deserve a break,” Aelin insisted.

They stepped on the elevator to head up to the recovery wing. Unlike yesterday, Aelin was able to remain mostly calm. She kept herself as close to the door as possible still, ready to jump out at the first chance.

“Who needs rest?” Yrene chuckled.

“When was the last time you had a girls night?” Aelin asked. “You should come into Terrasen. You, Nehemia, me and Marion, we can have a night out of fun.”

That gave Yrene pause. She fiddled with the pager at her waist as she thought. Aelin had a feeling she knew exactly what was going through the other woman’s head: new friends, too busy, do I really have time, easier to ignore it. She knew those thoughts. As much as Aelin loved new people and having fun, she’d grown warier as of late. She knew how easily her cover could be blown, sending up a smoke signal to Arobynn telling him where she was.

It had come close to happening after the debacle with Chaol over a year ago and why she didn’t entirely trust the man anymore.

“If you don’t want to,” Aelin began.

“No,” Yrene said quickly. “No. It sounds fun. I’ll take a look at my schedule and let you know.”

The elevator opened up a floor and had Aelin bouncing out as soon as she could. Despite the care she took to hide her emotions and her unease, she’d been failing more often in recent weeks. She used to be good at it--protecting herself from other’s eyes. For her own sake and the sake of her daughter she needed to get back to that point.

“Great!” Aelin flashed her brightest smile. She had to be careful around Yrene’s keen eyes. The woman had seen some of Aelin’s past medical records--the healed broken bones and scars--and would know what they meant. While Yrene was a professional, and bound by HIPPA, she was still a good person who would look out for someone in a bad situation. As long as Aelin acted like everything was alright, Yrene wouldn’t comment on it.

She could hope.

“Marion doesn’t seem like the type to go out,” Yrene commented with light amusement.

They headed down the hall as dawn slowly began creeping in through the skylights and windows. It was set to be another beautiful summer day, even with all the turmoil surrounding them.

“Oh, she doesn’t,” Aelin agreed, “she’s always been a little closed off. She bit my head off the first time I invited her out to lunch. It just takes a little bit for her to feel comfortable around people.”

We all have things we need to keep hidden, she almost said. She bit her lip and kept those words to herself.

The recovery wing was quiet as they rounded a corner to Emrys’ room. Malakai was already up and in the hall as the doctor and a nurse did a morning evaluation.

“You look terrible,” Malakai said, giving Aelin an appraising look.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh thanks.”

“I told you that you should have gone home,” he said.

“I’m fine.” The crick in her neck said otherwise, but Aelin ignored that. “How is he?”

“He woke up,” Malakai said, “still groggy and confused, but he did wake up.”

“Good,” Aelin said, “that’s good.”

She glanced to the room where the curtains were drawn. She wished she could have gotten to see Emrys at least once, but she did need to get going, especially if she wanted to relieve Nehemia from Meiri duty.

“Will you give him my love?” she asked. “I need to head back to Terrasen.”

“Of course,” Malakai agreed, “go. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

Aelin nodded. “I’ll check in with Luca and make sure he’s going to his summer classes.”

“Chaol knows what he’s doing,” Malakai reminded her.

Aelin kindly ignored him. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before turning to Yrene.

“Text me about your schedule.”

Yrene told her she would and satisfied, Aelin headed back to Terrasen.

…

Rowan stood at the top of the ladder and stared at the window pane he was trying to install. This really was a two man job but considering he knew no one in this damned town, he was determined to accomplish this on his own.

Last night he’d made the impossibly stupid decision of staying in Terrasen to help finish the renovations on the Inn. He wasn’t entirely sure why he did it--other than the fact that he actually liked Malakai and Emrys.

Maybe it also dipped into the idea that he wanted to make a difference. For so long he’d been entrenched in pain and war, blood and misery. For so long he’d done what others had told him to do to the point he never really knew what he wanted. Until the end.

Until that last raid when he’d made a deadly choice.

But this wouldn’t lead to death.

Unless he slipped off the ladder.

Rowan looked down. He’d probably survive.

Good thing heights had never bothered him.

He turned back to the window pane. With careful leveraging he could manage this on his own. But for the rest of the windows? Maybe he would have to enlist some help. Which would require talking to people.

Hell.

After another twenty minutes, Rowan did manage to finagle the window pane into place and secure it with the necessary equipment.

Sweat poured down his skin as she finally made it down the ladder. It was barely one in the afternoon and he was ready to call it a day. Even after spending years hauling equipment through the Kovac desert and sitting in a sniper's nest--there was something particularly grueling about this today.

He hadn’t been sleeping of course. Hadn’t been training every day, all day. His body was trying to adapt to its new circumstances and seemed to be failing miserably.

When his feet hit solid ground, he stripped off his shirt to wipe off the excess sweat that was dripping from his forehead. As he’d come to learn about this part of the state; it was endlessly sunny. The blue sky allowed for no relief. Not that Rowan wanted it.

He stood in the parking lot of the Inn, bare chested and let the sun pour down. He could taste the remnants of dust on his tongue and hear the quiet hum of cars drive past on the main road. If he focused, if he closed his eyes and waited--he was back in that desert waiting for orders.

The low growl of a closely approaching car drew his attention and he opened his eyes to the blinding light of the sun as a black SUV pulled into the parking lot. The engine cut off and a man hopped out of the driver's seat. He had to be Rowan’s same age if he had to guess. He was handsome with black hair and a charming smile. There was something familiar about the easy way he held himself.

“You must be Rowan.” The man proffered a hand to shake. He wore a suit that had to cost at least as much as the SUV he drove. “I’m Dorian, the city mayor.”

Rowan shook his hand but was otherwise unsure what to say to the man. He’d met many political types in his time in the army and hadn’t liked any of them. All he could really do was nod and mop his face with his shirt again.

“Malakai mentioned you might be staying in the front office for the day,” Dorian said, glancing at the ladder and mess of window equipment. “He didn’t mention you’d be working.”

There was such an easy way about him, that Rowan could see how someone could be disarmed by the man. Since Rowan could now count on one hand the number of people he trusted in his life, it was easy to keep his defenses up.

“I figured I’d try and repay them by helping out,” Rowan said.

He remembered meeting a business man out in Kovac who would essentially loot abandoned villages and look for any opportunity to get his hands on money. It was one of the things that led to Talbot’s death. And that final raid.

All because of one man.

Rowan knew why Dorian was familiar.

“Havilliard,” he said slowly. Dorian’s smile froze in play. “Dorian Havilliard. I’ve met your father.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Dorian said, “the man’s a bastard.”

Rowan eased back a step. Henry Havilliard had come to Kovac because his business was investing funds in the war and had wanted to see sites where his money was being used. Which had led to the attack miles outside of base camp.

In reality, Rowan knew he couldn’t blame the sins of the father on the son. He knew that. But it would be so easy to.

“You served in Kovac, didn’t you?” Dorian asked. “That’s mostly where my father invested.”

“Three tours,” Rowan said. Three tours over four and a half years. And then a year of training stateside before that. It shouldn’t have happened that way, he should have had more time between tours. Should have given himself a break, but after Talbot…everything had spiraled out of control.

“My father never understood what it was like to serve,” Dorian said, “never really understood what his work was doing.” He held Rowan’s gaze for a few moments before looking away. “Even with all the time he spent over there.”

No one understood what it was like. Not until they were holding a dying kid in their arms and had blood staining their lips.

“Did you need to get into the office?” Rowan asked. He didn’t need to talk about his military time nor did he need to try and bond with a Havilliard.

“No,” Dorian said, he cast another look over the motel. “I just thought I’d stop by and introduce myself.” He paused. “Are you planning on finishing the renovations yourself?”

Rowan shrugged. “May as well. Sartaq is still finishing my truck.”

Though, if the last text was to be believed, the truck would be finished by the end of the day.

Dorian nodded absently. “Malakai was worried about being ready for the county fair. You know--”

He was cut off by a loud squeal.

“Uncle Dorian!”

The small voice carried across the parking lot and was followed by the emphatic pounding of feet. When Rowan looked around until he saw running along the sidewalk toward them was Meiri. Her blonde hair bounced wildly about her face and an infectious smile beamed at him. As she got closer he noticed she wore a pink tutu skirt paired with a blue Spider-Man shirt.

Behind her trailed Aelin at a quick pace with Meiri’s backpack slung on one arm, coffee in hand.

“Hey kiddo!” Dorian knelt down as Meiri nearly bowled him over.

“You missed pizza night with Mia!” Meiri told him. She smacked her hands on Dorian’s cheeks and looked him dead in the eye. “You never miss pizza night.”

“I’m sorry,” Dorian said, he genuinely seemed apologetic. Though Rowan wondered if that was from missing the pizza of missing time with Nehemia. “Next time I’ll be there, I promise.”

Meiri held out one hand, pinky in the air. “Pinky promise!”

Aelin watched the exchange in bemusement that had Rowan wondering how often Meiri sealed deals with pinky promises.

“Pinky promise,” Dorian agreed. He hooked his pinky with hers.

Satisfied, Meiri turned to Rowan. Much like the first few times they’d met, she shied away from him, just a little. Though, she still eyed him with interest.

“Hi,” she said, “did you get pancakes today?”

“Nope,” Rowan said, “no pancakes.”

“That sucks,” Meiri said.

“Meiri!” Aelin scolded, dropped a hand on her daughter's head. “That’s not a word I want you using.”

“But Luca says it,” Meiri said. She shook her mother off and patted down her hair aggressively.

“Yeah and he’ll be in trouble too,” Aelin assured her daughter. “It’s not a nice way to talk.”

Meiri immediately became uninterested with the mild chastisement and ran over to the tool box sitting out beside the ladder. She poked and prodded before she found a measuring tape and got to work measuring out every little thing she could.

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” Aelin said, drawing Rowan’s attention away from Meiri who crouched beside Dorian’s SUV, tape measure extended over the tires. “Sartaq left me a message saying your truck was done.”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair, the sweat helping it stick back out of his face. He nodded to the pile of window and construction equipment off to the side.

“Decided to help out a bit until Emrys was back on his feet,” he explained. How long had it been since he last checked his phone? If he’d known Sartaq had finished he would have gone to pick the truck up.

Aelin’s expression betrayed nothing even as her head cocked to one side. She didn’t exactly trust him, that much was for sure. But she didn’t dislike him either. At least…as far as he could tell. Though, Rowan was certain that she’d never admit to such a thing.

“You should stick around for the county fair,” Dorian said. He had an earnest grin on his face that had Aelin scoffing, but Rowan didn’t think the malice was directed at him. “It’s a good time.”

“You’d do anything to keep numbers up,” Aelin said. She rested her hands on her hips and gave Rowan a look. “The reelection is coming up.”

“I’m just saying, food, music, and fireworks,” shrugging, Dorian looked a little chagrined. “And, there's a sharpshooting competition. Been around since the fair started. I’m sure Chaol would like the competition, no one’s beat him in three years.”

The offer was genuine, easily extended. Rowan, however, had no inclination to pick up a gun again. Not for a long time. And not unless he had no other choice.

“Yeah, maybe,” Rowan said. He ran a hand over his jaw contemplating if he could get out of this conversation by just walking away. He hadn’t touched a weapon of any sort in months, not since being discharged and the thought of handling something else…

Meiri ran over to Dorian, the measuring tape flailing behind her.

“Uncle Dorian! Your car tires are this big!” Meiri held up the metal tape that made a distinct whipping sound.

“Thanks kiddo,” Dorian smiled down at Meiri.

“Momma’s gotta go to work, can I stay with you today?” Meiri asked. She released the tape measure so it snapped together sharply.

“Sorry, princess, I’ve got a lot of meetings today.” Dorian cast an apologetic look to Aelin who grimaced.

“I should have texted you beforehand,” she sighed. “I guess I can ask Mrs. Olmstead…”

“No Momma!” Meiri cried. “She never has any cookies and she doesn’t like to dig holes. Plus she smells funny.”

Dorian had to turn away to keep his laugh hidden and Aelin’s lips were pursed so tightly, Rowan worried she’d bite into them.

“The cookies are the biggest crime,” Dorian said. He patted Meiri on the head. “I need to head down to my meeting. Have all the fun with this.”

He nodded to Rowan and gave Aelin a peck on the cheek before returning to his SUV. The car turned out onto the main road, disappearing around a corner with a honk in farewell.

It was only then that Aelin cleared her throat before plucking the tape measure from Meiri’s hands. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but she is a very nice lady. We can dig holes tomorrow.”

“Please, Momma?” Meiri clung to her mother’s leg and tugged insistently.

It was a moment that was amusing and endearing. Meiri in her tutu and large blue eyes and Aelin’s will crumbling bit by bit. Rowan could remember a similar situation years ago.

A daughter. A mother.

Each desperately clinging to the other.

“I can watch her,” Rowan said, the words leaving his lips before he knew what the hell he was thinking.

Aelin blinked, clearly shocked by his offer. Well, there was no turning back now.

“Do you like to dig holes?” Meiri asked. Her blue eyes widened expectantly as if it were the most important question in the world.

“Sure,” Rowan said, “I spent my summers burying my school books so my mom wouldn’t find them.”

Meiri pondered for a minute before she nodded once. “Okay. We can have pancakes too!”

She took the measuring tape back from her mom before running to his tool box and taking the level out. She held the tool in her hands with obvious care before heading over the window ledge of the front office.

It was easy to see Aelin’s uncertainty on the matter with the way she gripped Meiri’s bag in one hand.

“We can just hang out at the diner if you want,” Rowan offered. “You can keep an eye on her, I’ll color with her or something.”

For as long as he could remember, Rowan had never been a kid person. He’d never known what to do around them or with them or…anything really. The last kids he’d been around were his cousins but that had been ages ago, back before the war. And frankly, Rowan wasn’t sure if he should volunteer for this. After spending years around Lorcan and Fenrys combined there was no telling what Rowan would let slip.

Plenty and cursing that was certain.

“I,” Aelin began. She sighed and rested a hand on her hip. The tank top she wore left her golden arms on display. She even had a few freckles spotting along her shoulders. Summer looked good on her. “Alright. Marion has reading hours sometimes at the library, if you stopped by I’m sure she’d help you out.”

“Alright,” Rowan said. That would work out well. He remembered how much Sellene liked to read and Endymion could spin tales like no other. “We’ll stop by.”

Aelin slowly pulled a key ring from her pocket and unwound a key. She held it out between two fingers.

“I’m going to trust you,” she said, “don’t make me regret it. I’m off at eight, but Nox might let me leave early. You can go back to my place and watch Barbie movies if she gets too rowdy.”

Rowan accepted the key, tucking it into his fingers. The metal was cool on his skin and seemed to weigh a little heavier in his grasp.

Trust was a heavy burden to own and he really wasn’t sure if he deserved it.

Meiri skipped back over to them holding up the level so she could peer through one of the small openings between one of the bubble vials.

“Are we gonna get pancakes?” Meiri asked.

“Better,” Aelin answered, “Rowan’s going to take you to the library.”

Meiri gasped in excitement. “Yes!”

Aelin smiled as she crouched down next to her daughter. “Listen to Rowan, okay? I’ll see you tonight after work.”

“Bye, Momma! I love you!” Meiri threw her arms around Aelin’s neck, nearly smacking her in the head with the level.

Chuckling, Aelin dodged the near assault. She gently took the level from her daughter. “Let’s be careful with Rowan’s tools, these aren’t toys.”

Meiri nodded, the picture of innocence.

Aelin stood, drawing this good-bye out as long as she could. Even Rowan wasn’t completely detached from human emotion to notice.

“I’ll make sure my phone’s charged,” Rowan assured her, “and I’ll get your number from Marion. If that’s alright.”

“You have a phone?” Aelin asked, brow raised. For the first time that day she was actually directing her amusement at him and not disdain.

“I haven’t used it in a while,” Rowan admitted. The only reason he new where it was was so Sartaq could keep in contact.

Despite the small bit of humor she’d just displayed, Aelin still looked hesitant. One hand flexed toward Meiri who now butted her head into Aelin legs. “Just keep me updated.”

“Updates every fifteen minutes,” Rowan promised.

That got a genuine smile. “Thirty minutes is fine.”

…

“Do you like reading Meiri?” Rowan asked as not more than ten minutes later he and Aelin’s daughter were rounding the steps to the library.

The building was small, tucked right up against the post office. When they entered the double doors, Rowan got the distinct scent of fresh paper and static cleanliness that could only belong to a post office. It mingled with the subtle undertones of cedar and book musk.

“Yeah!” Meiri said. “My favorite is the story of the princess who has to go find her family in the lost castle. Do you know that story?”

“Uh, no.” The last book Rowan had read was…hell, he couldn’t even remember.

Meiri sighed. “Do you know the story about the ducks?”

“No.” Whatever fascination Meiri had once had for him was certainly draining away now. Quickly.

They entered the main lobby of the library where there was a large display of children’s books set in the summer months and a cutout of a puppy with balloons tied to its collar. Fly away with reading! Was written out overhead.

“Well what do you know?” Meiri asked.

Rowan thought back to what Sellene would have read at Meiri’s age. “What about Snow White?”

“She doesn’t have a sword.”

Well at least Rowan knew Aelin was giving her daughter a well rounded view of the world. Though, admittedly, a lot of fairy tales could be improved if the princess had a sword.

“I’ll ask Marion for help,” Rowan assured Meiri.

He found a small table where he could plug his phone in and let it charge enough to make sure it would actually turn on, before making sure Meiri was settled in the picture book section. He made sure not to go too far where Meiri was out of view as he looked for Marion. Despite how small the library was, he wouldn’t take his chances on Meiri running off.

It didn’t take long before Marion appeared from a back room with a stack of books in her arms. She paused when she saw Rowan.

“Hi,” she said, “what are you…?”

Rowan jutted a thumb back to where Meiri was picking out books. “I’m helping Aelin out with Meiri.”

“Aelin let you take her daughter out of her sight?” Marion obviously did not believe what Rowan was saying. She propped the books she held on one hip as she walked to the main counter. “She doesn’t know you.”

“Yeah,” Rowan said. He shrugged. “I don’t really know why either.”

Marion set her books down and brushed adjusted the bun her hair was knotted in. She reached for the small phone sitting next to her computer. Rowan didn’t even try to argue as she immediately began texting.

“Her shift just started,” he offered helpfully.

Marion only glared up at him. For such a small woman, she would have made an excellent army ranger. He could see her ordering a group of soldiers around without much effort at all. Hell, she could even give Lorcan a run for his money with that scowl.

“Why would I kidnap a five year old and immediately bring her to a library?” Rowan added after Marion finished her message.

“Because you’re up to something,” Marion said. “Showing up to a small town and offering no information about yourself. Helping out a family you just met. Don’t think I haven’t heard about what you’re doing for Emrys and Malakai.”

It had been, maybe, a half hour since speaking with Dorian and already the gossip was circulating.

Determination flashed in Marion’s eyes. As well as mistrust. Rowan had spent plenty of time trying to understand people, interrogating them, learning everything he could about them that he knew these subtler human emotions.

“I tell you my secrets if you tell me yours,” he offered. And then, to make a point he added: “Marion’s not even your real name, is it?”

That got a reaction. Marion stiffened, just barely, but it was enough to tell Rowan enough. It was a cruel thing to point out, especially given how protective and cautious she was--but he knew, he knew, there was something different about her.

“Can I have Aelin’s number? I told her I would text her with updates.” Rowan tapped a pad of sticky notes for emphasis.

Marion muttered a curse under her breath but did as requested. She handed him the note, jaw set with anger.

“Thank-you,” Rowan said.

He went back to where his phone was charging, unlocking it and disregarding the missed messages waiting for him. Those weren’t important. There were only three people who had his number and he didn’t want to talk to any of them. Well, technically a few others but dealing with ghosts never got him anywhere.

He tapped out a quick message to Aelin.

>>This is Rowan. Meiri is currently well on her way to emptying out the entire library.

He debated sending a picture along with it but decided against it. He doubted Aelin would want a near stranger having pictures of her daughter on his phone.

Hell. She must have been desperate to let him take Meiri for the afternoon.

Just as he moved to set the phone back down a new message buzzed through. He thought it was Aelin already responding until he saw the I.D. He should have known they would reach out like this.

<<im back stateside

<<we need to talk

<<its important

<<you cant ignore me forever

Rowan frowned. Well he sure as shit could try.

He locked the phone and went over to the small play area where Meiri was rapidly accumulating a large pile of books. She sat at a small table with a book propped up before her. One finger trailed along the words as she slowly mouthed the words out.

“K-k-kwik,” she said, “the dog was quick.”

Rowan didn’t know much about kids, but he had a feeling Meiri was far above the usual reading level. She glanced up when he approached and waved her book in the air.

“C’mon, you said you’d read with me.”

So, Rowan went over and took a seat in the tiny plastic chair beside her and read about the dog that ran all through a small town wrecking havoc as it went. Every few books, Meiri would get up and wander around to find another book or two and bring them back for Rowan to read.

She was so entranced by each story, Rowan didn’t have the heart to shirk his duties so he wound up doing voices and accents for the different characters. He made sure to send Aelin messages along the way--ignoring the ones from his old contacts--and just tried to keep Meiri entertained.

Eventually Marion came over with a coloring book and giant box of crayons for Meiri to color with. The girl happily took the items and set to work, choosing to go sit in a corner next to a giant stuffed elephant.

Marion sat in one of the kid chairs across from Rowan, chin propped in one hand.

“You know,” she said, “that kid is one of a kind. And Aelin loves her more than anything.”

It wasn’t anything Rowan was surprised to hear. Meiri did seem like a different kid than most. And Aelin’s love for her was one of the first things Rowan had noticed in the diner that first day in Terrasen. He eyed Marion wondering what she was getting at.

“When Chaol and Aelin were dating, well, if you could call it that,” Marion shrugged, “he wanted something serious and she was just trying things out. Anyways. They were doing whatever and he tried to find her family. Or…I think he did. Almost told them exactly where to find her too. I’ve…I’ve never seen her more upset.”

Marion paused, picking at a hangnail.

“I don’t know exactly what happened in her past,” she finally continued, “but I know enough. And if…if it was anything of what I went through then she deserves to be happy, to have this time and place for her and her kid. You should have seen the look on her face when Chaol said he found her cousin. I swear she was going to leave right then and there, murder him too. She just wants to raise her daughter.”

The words sunk in slowly, taking their time to nestle into Rowan’s brain. He could hear what was left unsaid and come to his own conclusions. It didn’t mean he could trust any of it. Not that Marion or Aelin would blatantly lie about this sort of thing, but they could certainly leave out bits of truth.

“I’m just here for myself,” Rowan said. “I’ll leave as soon as Emrys is back on his feet.”

Marion smiled. “Didn’t you say the same thing about your car?”

She was, unfortunately, right.

“Rowan?” Meiri said, scrambling up from beside that stuffed animal. Crayons went flying as she moved. “I’m hungry.”

He smiled at the little girl with her wild hair and mismatched clothes. Confident and strong just like her mother.

“Alright, let's get something to eat.”

If there was anyone that could keep her child safe from the wiles of the world, Rowan was sure it would be Aelin. He just hoped that one day, maybe, she’d be able to stop running.

…

The heat of Kovac dissipated only slightly when a storm blew in. Instead of being a dry and consuming heat it had turned into a melting pot of humidity. Dust and sand kicked up from wind and the few trucks that were still on the move, leaving everything in a hazy glaze. Adding to that a burst of rain and lightning, the desert felt like a whole new type of misery.

Supposedly, the one thing to come of it all was that there would be no scouting or fighting that day. Rowan wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. For a while now, he’d felt on edge. As if he were always waiting for something to happen--and IED to go off, a sneak attack to occur, something that he couldn’t fix.

He tried to play it cool, to ignore the way his thoughts would latch on to every negative and dangerous thing. Tried to pretend he was being logical in his worry, that he was simply preparing for what may come. It was flimsy at best and a part of him knew it. Ever since the raid last week and the reality that they'd be getting a new commander…Things were changing and Rowan didn’t like it. Lorcan or Gavriel were more than capable leaders and if Maeve wanted to divide the squad, she could just keep Gav in his current position and promote Lorcan. Or even Vaughan. Bringing in a new body now seemed like a stupid idea. Rowan knew better than to argue against Maeve when she had her mind set on something, though. It wasn’t worth the demerit.

He simply tried to keep his frustration at bay. His squad mates had only offered the usual glare in Maeve's direction at the announcement. They each felt the frustration but there was nothing to be done at this point. Not if they wanted to keep things running smoothly.

Unfortunately, they were set to meet Hammel that day. He’d arrived sooner than anticipated, which Rowan would choose to see as a good thing, a way to get into a new rhythm and normal before the next planned raid. In the week since the announcement, Rowan had done his own background check on Hammel. Perhaps it was an abuse of power to call in the favors he did, but he’d wanted to learn everything about the man he could.

He’d spent the last year and a half in Oregon on a small base up there as a trainer. Many of the men he’d worked with had gone on to get accommodations, many even being stationed in Kovac as well. There was a brief incident report of someone breaking into his off base apartment and beating his girlfriend before stealing some cash and the tv. Something about that didn’t seem right, but it was only one report relating to Hammel. He was an excellent marksman and scout but his true skills lied in stealth work.

Officially, Hammel was a good soldier. One of the best.

Unofficially…well. There was only one comment from a young cadet who had been discharged part way through boot camp after “over escalating” a situation between her and a fellow cadet.

Lieutenant Hammel did not take my comments or safety seriously in this investigation. I would formally request placement in another unit. The cadet had instead been honorably discharged before vanishing entirely.

It wasn’t a lot to base his opinion on, but Rowan was already coming to his own conclusions.

So when the official call came in for the Cadre, as they were known by, to meet with Hammel--Rowan did his best to let the irritation fade away.

"Gentlemen," Hammel greeted once they were all seated.

The briefing area was as hot and muggy as ever, settling them all with another level of discomfort.

Lorcan as usual chose a back corner seat, hardly sitting at attention. Gavriel maintained his decorum and the twins were as lanky and childish as ever. Rowan glanced at Talbot who had been whisked into the squad after the last raid and Hernandez transferred him. Rowan didn't know the reasonings, but he liked the kid so he didn't argue.

Before them now, Hammel stood tall and at ease. Though, there was no mistaking the cold silver of his gaze and the harsh lines of his face. His red hair hung to his shoulders and he wore a cold ring on one finger. He didn't seem the least bit concerned with anything but himself.

“I've heard you're undisciplined and like to cause problems." Hammel raised a single brow looking as though he couldn't have cared less about the lot of them. "Not under my command. There have been too many slip ups and unsuccessful raids. These mess ups will no longer happen or I'll make sure the rest of your weeks here are as miserable as your lives."

It was quite the speech, not that Rowan was truly intimidated by it. He'd already experienced hell and this man wasn't going to make things worse.

"We'll start with a practice training tomorrow, no matter the weather conditions, you've got to be capable of working through anything. Sniper!"

Rowan sat up, lifting his chin.

"Only five confirmed kills," Hammel lifted a lip. "Do better."

"None of my men have died in the last two tours I’ve done," Rowan said, "sir. I've protected my men."

That sneer only broadened. "When I give you an order, soldier, you accept it. No arguments."

Rowan only stared at the other man. He fought the urge to gauge everyone else's reactions. Hell, he wanted to see Gav most of all. Gav who’d been their leader for nearly two years now and was being sidelined for someone younger.

Rowan had known war wouldn’t be easy. He’d known he would kill, potentially be killed. He knew his perceptions of life would change and that nothing, nothing, would be the same when he was finished. But to be told to take more lives? To add more chaos into the world?

“Yes, sir.” Rowan didn’t salute. He didn’t move a muscle until Hammel turned the conversation to the next raid that would take place as soon as the storm passed and this time they would see results.

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goddess-aelin · 8 months

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Friends Don’t Fall In Love

For Rowaelin Month day 4: Friends Don’t Do This

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: we got a little angsty up in here. But happy ending, I promise!

It started as a typical night, the night that Aelin’s world came crashing down. She’d been out with her friends, huddled together in one of the sticky red booths that dotted the crappy dive bar in their college town. She was two drinks in when he decided to make the announcement that would change everything.

They were graduating in a month, of course Aelin realized that. She realized that they probably would all go somewhat separate ways. But she always thought they’d all stay in Terrasen even if it was in different cities. Aelin already had a job lined up in Orynth, the biggest publishing firm in the country already hiring her for a paid internship as soon as she graduated. Elide was going back to her home in Perranth and wherever she went, Lorcan was sure to follow. Lysandra found out she had some family in Caraverre and always wanted to visit, though she wasn’t sure about after that. Aedion would be working for her families firm, Galathynius Enterprises, in their marketing division and, even though he hadn’t admitted it yet, would probably be spending most of his weekends in Caraverre. Fen was a wild card. She wasn’t sure what his plans were but she was sure they’d be dramatic and exciting.

And that left him. She always thought that as her best friend, they were a package deal. She thought that he would be coming to Orynth with her, working at the Terrasen National Museum while getting his masters and eventual PhD in Historical Artifacts. He once told her that Terrasenian history was some of the most interesting he’d ever studied and that’s why he came to Allsbrook for college. That had been all he could talk about for the last few months.

So why was he all of a sudden saying that he accepted a two year position as a research assistant in Wendlyn? Not only was it a different country, but it was across the damn sea. It’s not like she could drive to him or even call him late at night when she was going to bed. Because by that time, it’d be early in the morning for him and he’d be living his best life as a Wendlynite. He’d forget all about her, she knew.

Even though Lysandra and Elide were moving away, it didn’t bother her as much as it did with him. He was supposed to be her best friend. He was supposed to always be there for her, her partner in crime with whatever came their way. He hadn’t even told her he was looking elsewhere. Maybe she didn’t mean as much to him as he did to her, after all.

The thought sent a pang of hurt that ran deeper than she wanted to acknowledge in the middle of a dive bar.

Of course, she knew she was in love with him. She would have been an idiot not to have realized that her stomach flipped every time he walked into the room. That every time he held her hand, she wished it wasn’t in comfort or reassurance but rather because he simply wanted to. That she wanted to kiss him so badly that sometimes the ache was unbearable.

But it didn’t matter. Because he was moving away. He would start a new life in Wendlyn, where the weather was always warm and he didn’t have to worry about commuting in the snow. Where the people were known for their friendliness and the women for their beauty. Where he was only two hours away from the family he grew up with.

Why would he want to come back here after the two years were up? She sure as hell wouldn’t blame him for staying.

A wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the alcohol washed over her. It was all she could do to not hurl her guts up on the table that was surrounded by her friends. She could feel Lysandra’s side-eyed gaze burning a hole into her face. She could feel Elide’s pity. She could feel that he was starting to wonder why she hadn’t said anything after his announcement.

She felt as though she was going to crawl out of her skin. She just needed to get home, throw up, take a shower, and cry it all out. That’s what she told herself, at least. Then she’d be over him. She’d make peace with him being a passing ship in her life and nothing more. She had to.

She rose from the table, not meeting his eyes. “I’m not feeling well, guys. I’m going to head out. I’ll call an Uber, don’t worry.” Her voice shook even though she tried her damndest to procure some sort of levity from the pit growing in her stomach. She met Lysandra’s gaze, who gave her a sad, knowing smile. And with a wave, she walked out the door.

Once outside, she forced herself to take a few deep breaths of the still-cool Terrasen air. It was April yet it still felt like winter. Point to Wendlyn. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts so she could call her Uber. The alcohol certainly wasn’t helping her coordination as she tried to type her address into the search bar but ended up dropping her phone. Tears prickled the corners of her eyes and her vision started to blur from the quickly swelling liquid.

Before she could bend down to pick up her phone, a familiar hand was in front of her, holding her phone.

“Rowan!” Her hand flew to her chest, “Gods, I didn’t see you!” She went to grab her phone from his grip yet he held the device like his life depended on it.

“Fireheart, what's wrong?” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to wrap around her back to pull her into a hug.

She shimmied away.

His brows furrowed. “Did I…did I do something?”

Her vision was starting to blur even more but the only thing she could do was shake her head.

“What can I do? Do you really not feel well? Or I can just get my keys and–”

“No!” She didn’t mean to shout but it was all too much. “No,” she tried again, this time voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t need help. I just…I just want to go home.”

“Let me drive you. You were out of there before I could even offer. I’m ready to call it a night anyway.” He was trying to get her to smile but she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

“Please don’t. Please.” She turned away from him, hoping that he couldn’t see how badly she was hurt. She never should have let him in, never should have come to rely on him so much that even the thought of him being taken away from her left her without any air to breathe.

The stubborn ass rounded to the front of her, placing a hand under her chin to bring her gaze up to his. “Fireheart, please. Tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me.”

She jerked out of his grip again, noticing the hurt that crossed his face. The hurt, vindictive part of her was pleased that perhaps he feel even a fraction of the hurt she was. But the better part of her, the one that was wholly in love with him, hated the way she was being with him. She never, ever wanted to hurt him in any way.

Her voice was barely a whisper when she asked him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes were wide and she would’ve thought he was a statue for how still he was standing. “I wanted…wanted to surprise you. I didn’t even know if I’d get the job since they only hire two people in the entire world every year. My shot was pretty slim and I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

“You didn’t even tell me you were thinking of it. I thought the plan was to come to Orynth?”

“It was. It still is. This is temporary, only two years. I’ll be back before you know it. Is that why you’re so upset?”

She shook her head. “You got the job because you’re amazing. Because they’d be stupid not to hire someone as smart and passionate as you are. And in turn, they’d be stupid not to offer you a permanent position after the two years are up. Can you honestly tell me that there is a 100% chance of you coming back here after the two years are up if you’re offered a position?”

“Well–I…no? Nothing is ever 100%. But the plan is still to come back here.” His voice was getting desperate and she could tell frustration was taking over. They were going around in circles and everything Aelin wanted to say to him all these years was finally coming out- just not in the way she wanted.

“You’re close to your family, Rowan. You’ll have beautiful weather, beautiful views, new friends.” At the last part, his brow furrowed.

“Is that what this is about? You think I’m going to make new friends and just drop you?”

“I–yes. No! I don’t know!” She felt like crying again, the intensity of the need to just scream building and building. She knew it would come out soon, one way or another.

“I thought you’d be happy for me! I’ll still text you and call you. I’ll come visit, of course. I’m not dropping off the face of the earth!”

“I am happy for you!”

“Then why are you so upset!?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, you asshole!” And there it was. The floodgates finally opened, the final plank that boarded up her heart broke completely. While the feeling of her heart breaking was awful, she also felt like a weight was released. She only had the energy to whisper a repeated, “I love you.”

Rowan stood there, frozen and mouth gaping. It looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. Didn’t know how. She knew rejection when she saw it. At least it was out there, at least she wouldn’t let him go knowing that she had hidden something so amazing and terrifying and beautiful from him. Even if he didn’t feel the same way.

Aelin hardened her gaze after a few moments of no-reply. “Don’t worry, it’s a common mistake. I’ll get over it.”

At that, Rowan seemed to awaken. And he looked angry. “Falling in love is not a mistake.”

“It is when it was with you. Friends don’t do this.”

“Then I guess I’ve been making a mistake the last four fucking years, Aelin!” She swore her heart stopped. “Because I’ve been in love with you since you sat next to me in Freshman Seminar and opened your damn mouth. And I never dreamed that you felt the same way. You never gave any indication that you felt the same way.”

She scoffed. “I flirted with you all the time.”

“You’re flirty with all of your friends. We’re best friends. It’s just what we do, how we are. And I was fine with that. With thinking that you never returned my feelings. Even if it hurts like hell all the damn time.”

They both were silent for what seemed like hours. She didn’t realize how close they had gotten. If they were the same height, their noses would probably be touching. Rowan seemed to realize it at the same moment because he took a small step back. But to her surprise, he brought his hands up to cup her face. With a gentleness that made her heart want to explode, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Fireheart. I love you. I have loved you for years and I will continue to love you for many more. You have to know that. It’s only you.”

Tears were freely flowing down her face and she wasn’t ashamed. Gently, slowly, she brought her lips to meet his. The kiss was sweet and exploratory, no heat or passion. No, this kiss was meant to heal, to shape, to show how much they cared. How much they loved.

“I love you, Rowan.”

He pulled her into a hug that felt like it slowly mended her back together. For the first time in a while, she was absolutely content. She had nowhere to be other than in this moment, in the arms she felt safest in. He was her home and perhaps that’s why she reacted so badly to his news. Gods. She was an ass.

“I’m so sorry.” She broke the tight embrace so she could meet his eyes. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I am happy for you. Gods, I’m so damn proud of you. I always knew you could do anything you ever dreamed of.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m glad you said what you did.” He cupped her face once more to place a gentle kiss on her lips. “I’m going to Wendlyn. I’m going to call you every damn day and visit as often as I can. We are going to make it work and it will work because it’s us and we’re inevitable. And when the two years are up, I’m coming back home. To you, Fireheart.”

The smile he gave her was so sweet she could have melted into a puddle.

A slow half smile crossed his face. “Ask me what I’m researching in Wendlyn.”

She was confused at the abrupt change but decided to play along. “What are you researching in Wendlyn, research assistant Whitethorn?”

He chuckled and brought his lips close enough to hers to share breath as he whispered, “Terrasenian artifacts that somehow ended up in Wendlyn’s museum.” Oh. Oh. “The plan was always to come home, Fireheart.”

A fresh wave of tears poured over her as she buried her face in his chest. “I love you so much. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He chuckled again and placed a few kisses to her hair, her forehead, her nose, and finally, her lips.

“Just think Aelin, you always wanted to visit Wendlyn and now you’ll have the perfect reason to.”

“I think maybe you’re giving yourself a little too much credit here. I’m only coming to visit Wendlyn for the fabulous food.”

“Mmhm, says the woman who just confessed her undying love for me in the middle of the sidewalk where anyone could hear. Keep telling yourself that.”

She loved when the playful side of Rowan came out. “Hmm, I don’t think those were quite the words I used.”

“Close enough.”

She laughed as he brought her face to meet his once more. Maybe falling in love with your best friend wasn’t such a bad idea.

A/N: Me?? Writing a bit of angst!??? I know, it’s a shocker but I couldn’t end it badly. They needed to have a happy ending.

Tagging:

@violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127

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