#rowan and aelin

[acourtofquestions]

"But maybe," he said, quietly enough that she looked at him again. He didn't smile, but his eyes were inquisitive. "Maybe we could find the way back together."

He would not apologize for today, or yesterday, or for any of it. And she would not ask him to, not now that she understood that in the weeks she had been looking at him it had been like gazing at a reflection. No wonder she had loathed him.

"I think," she said, barely more than whisper, "I would like that very much." He held out a hand. "Together, then." She studied the scarred, callused palm, then the tattooed face, full of a grim sort of hope.

Someone who might-who did understand what it was like to be crippled at your very core, someone who was still climbing inch by inch out of that abyss.

Perhaps they would never get out of it, perhaps they would never be whole again, but

"Together," she said, and took his outstretched hand.

And somewhere far and deep inside her, an ember began to glow.

[shadowhandss60]

If Aelin trained Dorian:

Aelin: FIGHT ME YOU EMO NERD ASS SLUT.

Dorian: At least try to sound sophisticated when you threaten someone.

Aelin: Dost thou wish to engage in a duel, my good bitch?”

Dorian: …Somehow that is worse.

[justascrollingghost]

Can we talk about how Rowan had to be restrained so he wouldn’t run into deadly darkness after Aelin and this was before he’d figured out he was in love with her

[nikethestatue]

You know who else wondered why he wasn't mated to the woman he was in love with?

Rowan.

He wanted Aelin. For months and months, he wanted her and questioned what she wasn't destined for him.

Reminds you of anyone?

What if the Cauldron was wrong?

Why was Elain given to another?

Rowan was also torn up by these thoughts and questions, and they never left them. He desired Aelin, thought that he couldn't have her, thought that he already had a mate.

Azriel is just as torn up by his dilemma and he wants Elain regardless of their lack of bond, and her bond with Lucien.

History repeats itself.

[brainrotcharacters]

tell me I'm wrong

[harperbrynne]

Aelin and Rowan appearing in Prythian with several bags:

Rhys: You came from another world.

Aelin: Yes. *wipes sweat from forehead* We’ve been jumping from world to world for what feels like hours.

Rhys: And you are seeking refuge here?

Aelin: Oh, no, we’re looking to have a vacation. Is this the world to do it in?

[aelinschild]

Paradigm; side by side

˙✧˖ March 3rd: Curtain

Main Masterlist | Paradigm; side by side Masterlist |

SYNOPSIS: Sick with knowing. Dying from chance. WORDCOUNT: 636 WARNINGS: Horny Rowan?

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics 2024 March Prompts. Go check out the other works over there!

He didn't notice the silence until it changed. 

Until the sheer curtains whispered to him, swaying in anothers trail. The clicking of door notches, the echo of unpacking, the murmur of a body. For years, it had been him. Reigning sovereign over noise; existing from his will. There were stretches of time where he had forgotten how to speak – that he could speak. More than his mind, a language conceived out of convenience, he would listen to the noise around him until it became him. 

Aelin – the roommate – was more for sanity than any extra cash flow. 

But, it had been like a sunburn, when he opened that door. Prepared for the strange woman to move in, coaching himself into passivity. He had shaved. Appearing less formidable, softening edges and combing over cracks. The noise made from his pacing through the small space, fiddling with decorations, pulling back the curtains again and again. 

The seconds slipped away like sand through ruddy fingers. Nearly ripping the door off its hinges in haste, opening it to firelight made human. It had soaked the oxygen straight from his lungs, reaching deep into him for more. 

Rowan knew what it was like to drown, and he would trade it for burning if he had the chance. 

Her eyes – gold, gold, gold – had stuttered over him, widening. When they fell down his frame, he had drawn constellations through the freckles on her face. Cygnus, like a cross over the bridge of her nose. A part of the universe. 

He had recovered, had pushed past the blockage in his throat, choked on awe. In a slow gesture, welcoming her in. She had asked for him, had asked as if he was not nearly at his knees in prayer, and he spoke to her again. I am Rowan. Like a declaration, but moreso a surrender. 

When night had fallen, hours after she had retreated to her space in his home, his mind was fractured. Nerves frayed and spilt, body lined with enough tension to shatter. All that he could think of was her. It was perverse; ghastly and vile. But his shirt smelt like lemon verbena and crackling embers, simply by proximity. 

He had shucked it off, shoving it as deep as he could in the antique chest of drawers in the corner of the bedroom. Frantically opening windows, hands heavy with strength; lithe with intention. The overnight bag had faced the brunt of whatever ran through his veins, burning and burning. 

By dawn, the smattering of hair across his jaw had inched its way out. The world sang a tune different than what he bore witness to most mornings, he was spun off-axis. By a woman he had barely spoken to. All night he lay awake, straining to hear the lightest of sounds. Trapped in forlorn fantasy that promised an ending so painful it would border on pleasure. 

He had nearly pulled his hair from the roots trying to write his note. I'm going away for a day, sorry. I'm needed elsewhere, I'll be back soon. How are you liking the house – it's all yours while I'm away. 

When he heard her bed creak, innocent and immemorable, he had left. Straight through the back doors, down to the pier, out onto Ferus. He had half a mind to grab the overnight bag and his journal before untying the boat and preparing to tack. Racing out into the sea, surrounded by a heady fog that resembled the unease in his head. Alone again, but the silence was different now. Now it rushed over him, pulling him down into what would muffle infinity. No longer an afterthought.

Rowan was plagued. Sick with knowing. Dying from chance. Leaving calcified footprints over a space once created for him, by him, evaporated under sunlight, noticed by constellations.

Taglist: @mariaofdoranelle , @goddess-aelin , @leiawritesstories , @renxzs

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist :)

[acourtofthought]

Love - SJM Style

Obviously the actual falling in love part is amazing but before her characters get to that point, we have a lot of this:

Rowaelin -

You are a child, and a spoiled one at that. And,” he said, those green eyes holding nothing but distaste, “you are a coward.”

And then she said one of the foulest things she’d ever uttered in her life, bathing in the pure hate of it. “Fae like you make me understand the King of Adarlan’s actions a bit more, I think.”

“First thing,” he breathed, “we’re not friends. I’m still training you, and that means you’re still under my command.”

Chaol / Yrene -

You didn’t seem to mind the privileges that came when you snapped your fingers and Kashin ran here. Perhaps he’ll grow tired of you stringing him along.”

“You’d be surprised the people that opiate makes you consider. Who you’ll find yourself willing to sully yourself with.”

“Did she pick Dorian, then? The queen. I’m surprised she could stomach either of you, given your history. What your kingdom did to hers.”

“Yet you were assigned to me because your Healer on High saw otherwise. Saw that no matter how high you climbed in that tower, you’re still that girl in Fenharrow.” A laugh came out of him, icy and bitter. “I knew another woman who lost as much as you. And do you know what she did with it—that loss?” He could barely stop the words from pouring out, could barely think over the roar in his head. “She hunted down the people responsible for it and obliterated them. What the hell have you bothered to do these years?”

Aedion / Lysandra -

She knew Aedion would agree to the plan, even if he still hated her.

“You can go to hell,” Aedion snapped. “You can go to hell, you lying bitch!”

Lorcan / Elide -

Aelin had been brutalized, their very location betrayed by Lorcan to Maeve, and still he tried to follow. Right through the sand still wet with Aelin’s blood.

Elide let out a soft, vicious laugh. “Of course you didn’t. Why would you have intended for your wondrous queen to sever the blood oath?”

Lorcan blinked at the words, the hatred in them, stunned enough that he let her walk past this time. Elide didn’t so much as look back.

“The only thing that I am jealous of, Lorcan, is that she is rid of you.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. But Elide’s face did not warm. “I don’t care,” she said, turning on her heel. “And I don’t care if you walk off that battlefield tomorrow.”

“I have never heard Lorcan apologize for anything. Even when Maeve whipped him for a mistake, he did not apologize to her.” “And that means he earns my forgiveness?”

Quinlar -

“She’s a spoiled party girl. What did you expect?” “She’s not stupid, Hunt,” Isaiah countered. “Everything I’ve seen and heard suggests otherwise.”

His teeth flashed. “I don’t care what you call me, Quinlan, so long as you do what you’re told.” Fucking alphahole. “Immortality is a long time to have a giant stick up your ass.”

Feysand -

Rhysand ran an eye over me. “I knew you liked to stoop low with your lovers, Lucien, but I never thought you’d actually dabble with mortal trash.” My face burned.

Even as he said my most private thoughts, even as I burned with outrage and shame, I trembled at the grip still on my mind.

I stared at him, sending as much hate as I could into my gaze. He’d been the one who’d caused all this. He’d told Amarantha about Clare; he’d made Tamlin beg.

I bared my teeth. “Go. To. Hell.” Swift as lightning, he lashed out, grabbing the shard of bone in my arm and twisting. A scream shattered out of me, ravaging my aching throat. The world flashed black and white and red. I thrashed and writhed, but he kept his grip, twisting the bone a final time before releasing my arm. Panting, half sobbing as the pain reverberated through my body, I found him smirking at me again. I spat in his face.

“Don’t get me started on what you did to me Under the Mountain.”

“I didn’t ask for your approval.”

“I think we can agree that I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing.”

“I’m not your enemy, Feyre.” “Tamlin says you are.” I curled the fingers of my tattooed hand into a fist. “Everyone else says you are.” “And what do you think?” He leaned back in his chair again, but his face was grave. “You’re doing a damned good job of making me agree with them.”

“No, because it’s so much easier to pretend it never happened and let them coddle you.”

“Luck? Yes, how lucky for you,” I said quietly, but not weakly, “that the rest of Prythian was ravaged while your people, your city, remained safe.”

His laugh was bitter, soft. “I thought so. Perhaps you should take some time to figure that out one of these days.”

“At least I let them see who I am, broken bits and all. Yes—it’s to save your people. But what about the other masks, Rhys? What about letting your friends see your real face? But maybe it’s easier not to. Because what if you did let someone in? And what if they saw everything, and still walked away? Who could blame them—who would want to bother with that sort of mess?”

Nessian -

“What are you looking at?” Cassian’s brows rose—little amusement to be found now. “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall.” “Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.”

“If that’s what a bastard-born Fae warrior can do, no wonder my sister has become so entangled with the High Lords.” Bitch. Bitch for the insult to him and to Feyre. “Did it bother you more that you wanted it, or that it was a bastard-born nobody who made you feel such things, Nesta?” “It’s been a long winter. Beggars can’t be picky, I suppose.”

What did he care? What did he care? He had enough shit to deal with.

“And what do you deserve?” A slow smile, indeed a plains-cat readying for the kill. Then, “Certainly more than a bastard-born nobody.” Bitch. “What a fne partner you are, Nesta. Remind me to bring a book on military strategy the next time. Maybe you’ll stand a chance then.” A cold, fat look. “It’s easier, isn’t it,” Cassian breathed, crossing the distance again, not caring who saw them standing in the bay window “To wield the words and the coldness as armor to keep everyone from seeing where and who you failed and how you did not care until it was too late.”

Only hatred gleamed in her eyes.

“Well, I see it, Nesta Archeron. And all I see is a bored and spoiled girl—”

“Is it Nesta?” “Not everything in my life is about your sister, you know.”

Nesta had made it clear enough she had no interest in Cassian—not even in being in the same room as him.

“I’ve made my thoughts clear enough on what I want from you.”

He didn’t know why the hell he cared. Why he’d bothered.

She’d made it clear enough in those initial days after that last battle that she wanted nothing to do with him.

“I was dragged into this world of yours, this court.” “Then go somewhere else.”

“Stop following me. Stop trying to haul me into your happy little circle. Stop doing all of it.”

“Your sisters love you. I can’t for the life of me understand why, but they do. If you can’t be bothered to try for my happy little circle’s sake, then at least try for them.”

“You think I can’t hear that male in your bedroom, trying to quietly put on his clothes and sneak out the window?”

Elucien are coming along quite nicely -

“You betrayed us.”

Her eyes went frank and cold. “I was to be married in a few days.”

“She wants nothing to do with me.” / And as for here …” He shook off my grip and headed for the door. “I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes.

“You couldn’t say a single word to him? A pleasant greeting?”

“He brought you a present.” Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

“Where’s Elain?” “I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.

[acourtofquestions]

How is rowaelin already every romantic trope in one before they even have their first kiss?🫶😂👏

[shadowhandss60]

Chaol: Here’s a list of potentional champions. They’re all straight-laced and well respected warriors.

Dorian:

Chaol:

Dorian:I want the king of the Assasins.

Chaol: I-

Dorian: Scratch that, I want the 19 year old chaos gremlin who unalived a bunch of overseers with a pick axe for funsies so I can piss off my dad.

[justascrollingghost]

Aelin: so like when you’re a hawk can you talk to all the other hawks? Have you got bird friends that don’t know you’re not really a bird?

Rowan: fireheart.. please.. it’s 3am.. go to fucking sleep

[silly--fangirl]

i didn't love rowaelin right from the start, i liked it but i wasn't a "ride or die" fan, but now they warm my heart everytime i think about them and i just LOVE them sm

[aelinschild]

Paradigm; side by side

˙✧˖ March 2nd: Dew

Main Masterlist | Paradigm; side by side Masterlist |

SYNOPSIS: What's mine is mine, what's yours is also mine. WORDCOUNT: 1k WARNINGS: none

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics 2024 March Prompts. Go check out the other works over there!

Rowan was a man.

The mortification of the encounter had yet to bleed from Aelins face. Warmth pulsing like a living current each time she heard movement outside of her bedroom. Rolling in cotton sheets, a whispering of a sound with each shift. Lullabies sung by currents, raising to perch on the open windowsill, calling out from its depth. She would stay in this bed for as long as she could – embarrassment be damned. 

When her eyes had trailed his body, craning up to his face, she thought she was lost. The wrong turn, the wrong house, the wrong person. Until Rowan, the man, stepped back. A large tattooed arm stretching out – a familiar gesture, meant for ease. Palm face out, welcoming. 

She had hung on the threshold, caught in a moments limbo. Lost in pine chasms and sunborne crevices. 

If she had breathed in when the door first opened – she had – she would have been surrounded in the eye of a storm. Linen and sunshine. Burnished steel and worn leather. She would have shivered at the sensation – she did – settling deep in her core, burning blood and oppressive waters. Her head felt light; from the mistake or the man, her mind ran circles around conclusions. 

It was a gasp, a wave crashing down, down, down. Rushed; Where is Rowan? 

The answer came like a surprise. It came like a reminder of her luck, of mirages in their brilliant luminosity. Staring at her face on, only to disappear with each step closer. A head tilt, a question on pillowed lips, furrowing of white sand brows. 

I am Rowan, he spoke, and you’re Aelin, right? 

Yes. Yes she was Aelin, the girl who had assumed the person behind the advert was simply conscious of their words. Sparing in divulgence. A female roommate; less likely to be an axe murderer and comforting in unfamiliarity. How wrong she was. 

-

Crystalline slashes of light danced on the floor, a rising sign. There had been no movement, not for the past hour. Prior, bumbling and heavy footfalls snuck through the door. Loud enough that Aelin could interpret their purpose; louder for her benefit. To know what her new roommate was doing, to know where he was. 

It had stalled, though. She had rolled around the mountain of pillows, readjusting for the wait. Craning her ear to the door, eyes pulled to the sea. And when the only noise was that of swaying grass, bird songs, and the curtains bordering the open window, she had braved leaving her room. 

The wildflowers sat in a porcelain pitcher. Scones plated with tenderness on a sanded-down piece of driftwood. Paper waved from where it was tucked between the two. Light steps brought her to the table. Center of the room, bracketed by a quaint kitchen and a living room filled with pillows. The cottage was over-zealously full, nothing like the traditional bachelor pad Aelin was all too familiar with. 

I’ll be away for the day, and possibly tomorrow. Make yourself at home. Be careful of late tide. 

- Rowan 

Under the pencilled note, shadows of earlier drafts had been scrubbed away. Leaving only a fragment of a stain, a display of effort. She imagined the man, sturdy and tight-lipped, bent over the table, agonizing over a letter to his new roommate. Erasing original thoughts, rewording the formality she was not owed. But he did it, anyway. 

Tucking the note into the breast pocket of her silk pajamas, Aelin delved further into her new home. Retracing the path she took yesterday – this will be your room, it has a bathroom attached. Across is mine. Down the hall, yeah, it wraps around. Down there is my office, and I’d prefer if you stay out. Sunroom is cleared for you, though. 

It was hard to pay attention to his tour. Between the way his voice scored across untouched swells that roared inside her, the warmth of his body as he stood over her, and the details of himself in every piece of decoration. It was a flurry of stimulation, drowning out her senses. By the end, she barely retreated to what was now her room without falling faint. 

Today, though, she paced the small home with wide eyes. With no distractions, her hands caress the spines of leather-bound books, sifting gently through piles of time-worn papers, tracing the bumps and ridges of seashells scattered at random intervals. It's not even the start; shelves are piled with hand-carved animals, stones varying in sizes, she spots a soapstone-carved Inukshuk. 

Theres photos everywhere, fuzzy from time and the lens. Not a picture of anyone, but an excess of stills. Shots of sunsets and sunrises. But, most of all, a sailboat. Once she sees it, it appears everywhere. Paintings drape over walls, lean against each other on the floor, stacked on shelves. All of them reverent, as if the vessel is a place of worship, settled between the waves.

There is hardly a spot in the cottage that isn't covered in something. The entire house is a collection of the man she is sharing it with. It feels invasive, to be so close to what must be the ultimate intimacy. 

By the time she returns to the kitchen, the sun had risen past the horizon. The water – calm and quiet – sparkled with possibility. The windows lining the back of the house allowed for no disregard. She would wake and rest to the cycle of the sun, travel with its arc, within breaths of the edge of her world. 

The French doors leading to the back porch, leading to the sea, were pushed aside without resistance. The air changed like lightning; salt balm and crashing vitality. Aelin could smell the dew that gathered on the tall grasses, if she stood there long enough she may see it evaporate under glowing incendivity. 

Like the wind off the water was speaking to her, cradling her mind in its motherly hands, she couldn’t help the way her thoughts fell back to her roommate. The way the note, tucked close to her heart, weighed more than she had thought. 

White water, full of air as it curls into itself, crashing into unseen recesses. Repeating until settled.

Taglist: @mariaofdoranelle , @goddess-aelin , @leiawritesstories

[acourtofthought]

god THANK YOU for pointing the whole Bryce and Azriel situation. Even tho you needn't to go this hard lol its basic logic!! Bryce lives in another whole universe is desperate to save her mate and brother. She's worried sick for them do you think she will forget about them to what? catch feelings for Azriel? I'm pretty sure the time she's in Velaris she'll try to save her mate and find some answers! LIKE BE SERIOUS FOR A SECOND!!!

Why sjm fandoms have an obsession about fated mates not being mates lmao idk how many times sjm wrote "MATE" in Bryce and Hunts pov the word that everyone keep saying is overused! well honey if she doesn't do that ppl won't believe they're mates! Like now, ppl are reaching with their theories that they're not mates. Same goes about Elain and Lucien so you see... SHE HAS NO OTHER CHOICE bc ppl have tendency to go all blind over that word lmao

And what is really amusing is that the arguments are so contradictory.

Bryce and Hunt have chosen one another and as a result, they ended up sharing a mating bond that is similar to what the Fae experience with their mates (scents merging, Hunt going crazy to protect his mate, SJM actually calling them mates/ true mates and all that jazz) yet some in the fandom insist they are not endgame because they believe they are not actual mates as their bond reads somewhat different than the Prythian bonds (which to me makes sense considering they are farther from magic than the ACOTAR characters and neither is 100% fae).

BUT......with Elucien, they'll say that they won't end up together because even though they are actual mates in canon with a bond that snapped and everything, they didn't CHOOSE to be together.

....................................................................................🧐🤦‍♀️

We're damned if we do, damned if we don't.

Somehow Feysands love is valid even though Rhys knew she was his mate almost immediately. No one claims his love for her is lessened because he suspected they were mates from the start.

But Elucien can't fall for one another because then, it's "just because of the bond".

But Bryce and Hunt can't end up staying together because even though they chose one another, their bond came about differently, and that means there's someone else out there she's meant to be with just because she shares a true bond with them.

This fandom is enough to give you a headache some days.

Maybe people need to realize that SJM is simply giving us a little variety in how these bonds all come about.

One is where the female was first enemies with, then friends with, then knew before the male because he thought he had already lost his mate so he was closed off from seeing who was in front of him the whole time.

One is where the male knew first and he hid it from the female until she fell in love with him.

One is where both the male and female suspected something from the get go but it was never confirmed until they chose to be together.

One is where both the male and female had it immediately snap as strangers and SJM created a storyline where neither was ready to deal with their bond so she's temporarily driven them apart.

One is where the male and female never suspected any bond, chose to be with one another after getting to know each other as friends even though they shared a mutual attraction early on, then had their mating bond begin to solidify after committing.

I don't understand why people think SJM is tossing around the word mate for her characters like it's an interchangeable accessory. If SJM wanted multiple mating bonds then why did Jesminda NOT turn out to be Lucien's mate? Why not have his first mate murdered then give him a second mate? Instead, she made it so he was waiting for the bond to snap into place but it never did because she was never actually his mate, Elain was. Why did Rowan only have a fake mating bond with Lyria? Why not allow Lyria to be his first mate, have Maeve coordinate her death only to trap him so that when his second mate came around, she'd still have control over him?

Instead, SJM has written it so these characters only have one actual mate.

No, not every bond looks the same or snaps the same but in the end, if they have an actual bond where the FMC / MMC character as a couple confirms it's a bond on page, that's the game. Bryce loves Hunt so much she feels that he is her mate and even though it came about differently it is still a bond others can scent and that causes a physical reaction in Hunt, shouldn't that be enough? Where another character confirms they are True Mates in the way fae are? Lucien and Elain confirm they feel a thread /bond between them (terminology used by both Nessian and Feysand) and where it is confirmed they both know what the other is to them. Anyone trying to denying those things as fact is someone who is being driven by disappointment because they were hoping for a different outcome rather than using logic. And yeah, it's never fun when the outcome isn't what we wanted but that still doesn't change anything. Team Jacob fans get it.

[acourtofquestions]

I LOVE ROWAN WHITETHORN

That’s it that’s the post… I’m just so impressed by the character development 👏 and my goodness I’m gonna have to re-read Heir of Fire after I finish it because EVERYTHING IN PART 2 HAS CHANGED and now I LOVE him & him with Aelin & Rowaelin & also just him… and that just deserves a post because LETS GO CHARACTERS… and also just R. O. W. A. N.

[shadowhandss60]

Understandable