#weylan darrow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nalgenewhore · 5 years ago

Text

With My Life - Chapter Two

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

warnings: (all graphic) violence, gun violence, blood, smut, implied PTSD

Elide slept fitfully for a couple hours more after Lorcan left. After ten minutes of hiding from the sun by burying her face in his pillow and switching positions every thirty seconds, Elide decided to accept the fact that she wouldn’t fall back to sleep and there was nothing she could do about it.

With a sigh, Elide got up and padded over to his closet, swapping his black dress shirt for a pair of sweats that practically drowned her and one of his old hoodies. She walked over to the dresser he kept, opened the top drawer that she had slowly begun to take over and grabbed her tortoise shell hair clamp to twist her short but thick hair and clip it back.

Then, she walked out of his room, out the short hallway before she got to the top of the stairs, which were located beside the windows that went from the floor to the ceiling of his second floor. Elide stepped down the stairs, her hand resting elegantly on the railing.

Elide sighed again and rubbed her eyes as she walked into his pristine, state of the art kitchen.

She looked out the wall of floor to ceiling windows, wondering where in the city Lorcan’s clients would take him today as she filled up the kettle in the sink.

After putting it on the stove and turning the burner on, Elide picked up the remote control and turned on the big, sleek flatscreen. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her the revisions for her thesis weren’t done yet. Elide scowled as she flipped through the channels and landed on a rerun of a baking show.

Reasoning with herself, she decided to take the day off. Between the extra class load undergrad psych courses she’d agreed to teach and research for her graduate degree, as well as spending more and more time with Lorcan… she deserved a break.

Taking the day off would give her time to think about them. And about dinner.

Elide thought about their relationship as she fixed herself a cup of tea. Being with Lorcan was simple. Not at all serious, just some harmless fun, but still, quite possibly her most valued relationship nonetheless.

There were times, so many gods-damned times when she wanted more. And thought that he felt that way, too.

Like when their intimate activities were done for the night, when they both passed out where they dropped onto the sheets, Lorcan would search the king-sized mattress until he could pull her close against him. In all the nights she had spent with him, Elide had not once fallen asleep without his arms around her. Or when he had had a hard day, he would call her in the middle of the night - when he knew she was still up working tirelessly on her degree - just to hear her talk and ramble about whatever she’d learned that day.

He listened to her like… he loved her, like she loved him.

He trusted her with his life and he wanted to talk to her. What else could he have to say, right?

Elide had a distinct feeling that everything as they knew it would change today.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Get in.

Get the list.

Get out.

Lorcan repeated it like a mantra as he moved through the seemingly abandoned building like a shadow. He breathed calmly, keeping his nerves in check. It’s just another work day, keeping it together, he told himself, schooling himself into detached neutrality as he continued through the house.

Methodically, he checked every room he passed, toeing the door open and stepping in, smoothly pointing his gun and checking every inch of space before moving on.

He listened intently, his ears nearly twitching with every sound besides his own breathing and steady steps.

The radio in his ear crackled to life, “Upstairs, second door on the right.” Connall and the team at headquarters had been tracking the computer - the one that held Erawan’s list of suppliers and dealers - for months and it would finally come to an end today.

The house around him remained eerily quiet, but Lorcan shook it off as his own tension as he moved up the stairs, studying them briefly and avoiding places he knew would creak too loudly.

Like the good spy, like the good little soldier he was years ago, Lorcan checked the first rooms first, then the one opposite the room the computer was in. Nobody was there.

And just when he was thinking the gods hadn’t forsaken him again, Lorcan walked into the second room on the right and bit back his low curse. It was stupid, juvenile and foolish to think that the gods had ever cared, for the man sitting behind the very laptop countless people had died for had a bullet wound in the middle of his forehead and the wall behind him was splattered with blood and the laptop had been torn apart.

“C?”

“L?”

“They got it. Laptop’s ripped open and,” he walked in further, swallowing his gag at the reek of blood, “they shot their guy. Been here… half an hour, at most.” Which meant someone was following him.

There was a pause and Lorcan heard Connall take a breath to speak but then, “Wait. Shh.”

Connall didn’t fight it, didn’t speak another word as Lorcan listened, narrowing his eyes and slowly putting his gun back in his shoulder holster. He could’ve sworn he’d heard something coming from… the hallway.

Lorcan gave the room one last glance and stepped out into the hallway, just in time to see a black clad figure sprint down the hall and jump, crashing through the window and onto the streets below them.

“What was that?” Connall asked, evidently having heard the glass smashing.

“The list,” Lorcan bit out, already moving when Connall told him Nehemia was tracking the hard drive. “I’m in pursuit.”

Lorcan ran to the end of the hall, stopping himself from crashing through the pane and searching the rooftops. Two buildings away, there was that same shrouded figure hopping along the buildings of Morath, glancing back at Lorcan every so often.

“Tell Elide I’ll be late.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Her plan for a day off hadn’t worked. Elide had tried to relax, as Lorcan told her to constantly. She snorted to herself as she highlighted a passage and switched to a blue pen, scrawling a note on the margin. It was rich coming from Lorcan. The man could barely sit still for a half hour show without fiddling with something, dropping into push-ups or another exercise.

There were a couple trays of cranberry-orange muffins sitting idly by, ones Elide had made after getting a craving from the baking shows. She plucked one up, mindlessly picking at it and thinking to herself.

Her thesis advisor and mentor, a man named Weylan Darrow, sent her an email about her next review panel and she clicked on it, reading through his notes. He was a crotchety old man, that is, to everyone except Elide. He had developed a bit of a soft spot for her over the past couple years.

He had been a huge help - a godsend, really, during the years. Being a former foster child herself, writing on how the system affected cognitive development was a personal and delicate subject for her, but Darrow, as he preferred to be called, had always respected boundaries and pushed her to take time off when she needed it.

Elide zoned out and absentmindedly munched on her muffin, only realizing she’d been sitting at the kitchen island, staring off into space for a couple minutes when the buzzer sounded.

She got up and padded over to it, furrowing her brow as she tried to recall which button it was to talk. The largest was lit up and flashing green, so she took a chance and held it down as she said, “Hello?”

“Miss Lochan?”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Salvaterre had a package delivered for you. Would you like me to bring it up?”

Elide shook her head, forgetting for a second that they couldn’t see her. “Oh, no, Malakai, I’ll be down soon.”

“Alright, Miss Lochan. See you soon.”

Elide walked back to the counter and put ten or so muffins into a container for Malakai and his husband before she slipped on her shoes and went downstairs, wondering what on earth Lorcan had sent her.

One of his neighbours was in the elevator with her and they chatted idly. The older woman was a sweetheart and Elide gave her a muffin from the container, graciously thanking her for the invitation to have tea later that day.

Elide bid the woman good-bye and smiled at Malakai, handing him the container, “Fresh from the oven.”

He smiled and put the container under the front desk, coming back up with a sleek, black and silver edged dress box, tied together with a matching silver ribbon. “For you and,” he pulled up a matching black and silver bag with silver ribbon handles, “for you. There’s a note in there, too.”

She smiled, trying to control her blush as she fit the bag’s handles in her elbow and picked up the box, ignoring Malakai’s cheeky wink. “Oh, stop it.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Elide just rolled her eyes and went back upstairs, making herself wait until she returned to the penthouse to open it.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Marama, do you have eyes on Salvaterre?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lorcan hardly heard the words flying over the radio in his ear as he dodged a cheap punch, ramming his elbow up into the masked figure’s face, hearing the telltale crunch of the man’s nose and using the advantage of the man’s head snapping back to lock him in a chokehold and put pressure on his windpipe. “Where is it?”

The man spoke an ancient, dirty language - one of the man legends say tried to rip the world in two. Lorcan snarled in his ear, gripping the top of his mask, “Tell me where it is or I swear to Hellas, I’ll throw you off this gods-damned bridge. Tell me where it is.”

The man fought for breath and Lorcan let him struggle before loosening his hold, letting the man believe he had the advantage. “You will never find it.”

“I need two more minutes,” Nehemia said, her voice tinged in desperation.

During the chase across the city to the decrepit bridge they stood on now, the man had dropped the hard drive, the small black square escaping Lorcan’s attention. Nehemia had managed to track it somehow, probably from the original tracker they had planted in the computer, and was deciphering its security features.

Lorcan ripped the mask from the man, turning him and leaning him over the railing, “Tell me where it is.”

Erawan’s man’s pupils were dilated, leaving only a thin circle of watery blue around the depthless black. Most of the fanatic’s forces took a drug hybrid Erawan and his team had crafted themselves and flooded the streets of every major international city with, a drug called Wyrd. It made one feel invincible, making them believe they could withstand any physical act like torture and harm.

Really, it just severed the pain receptor connection and the majority of users ended up near dead in the hospitals.

“You cannot stop the prophecy. He will reign supreme,” the man promised, choking slightly as the blood from his broken nose slid down his throat.

Lorcan fought the urge to roll his eyes and gripped the man’s collar, twisting the material until he could barely get a breath in, “I will break your neck, tell me where it is.”

The man clamped his jaw shut, biting down so hard and fast that Lorcan saw a cracked tooth when the man attempted to spit on him and instead, drooled down his weak chin. “You… you…will never… know.”

“Are you in position,” that hissing viper voice snapped, not one part of the sentence in question.

“Yes, ma’am. Three buildings southwest, clear view of Salvaterre and target.”

Lorcan was distracted for a split second by listening to Fenrys’ location, and the man grabbed at the chance, ramming his knee up between Lorcan’s legs and pushing him off.

That quickly, Lorcan was incapacitated by the pain in his body, hardly fighting the target as he stomped on his knee, forcing it to bend in a way no knee should. He swallowed his scream of pain, his head whipping to the side when he was punched in the face, already tasting blood in his mouth and spitting it onto the ground before fighting back.

The man was relentless, with zero regard for his own protection as he rained blows down on Lorcan, lashing out with his feet and knees.

Lorcan snarled and easily sidestepped the next punch, returning one of his own to the throat and one to his solar plexus. The man stumbled back, blood and saliva leaking down his face and fighting for breath.

Panting, the man attempted to strike, a hard jab to the stomach that had Lorcan bending reflexively and giving the man just enough time to slip away and sprint towards the city.

Lorcan groaned in pain, rasping to the earpiece, “He’s running.”

“I got him,” Fenrys said and Lorcan started running, pushing his agony down down down. “I got him.”

The man’s multitude of injuries started to heed his escape as Lorcan used every lesson drilled into him to keep his mind off the white hot pain in his left knee and tackled him to the ground, quickly pressing his knees into the man’s elbows and using his weight to keep him down. “Where the fuck did you put it?”

The man pressed his lips together, pure rage and unadulterated fury in his eyes. Somehow, he slipped his arm free and slashed, slicing the knife Lorcan didn’t know he had down Lorcan’s right cheekbone. Then, the target flipped them as Lorcan felt warm blood leak down his face and pressed the tip of his knife into Lorcan’s throat. “I will never tell you. The prophecy must come true, our king will be crowned at last.”

“What’s the hold up,” Maeve snarled, wondering why he hadn’t shot yet.

Lorcan remained as still as possible, the cool metal edge of the blade cutting into his skin. He felt warm blood drip and pool in the hollow of his throat as Fenrys said he couldn’t get a clear shot.

“Take the fucking shot,” Maeve ordered and the target was distracted by something.

That quick, Lorcan shoved him off, flipping them just as he heard the distinct sound of a bullet being shot through the radio and nearly instantaneously, searing pain ripped through his left side, forcing him to take a step back.

He bumped into something cold and metal, pausing as he slowly looked down and lifted his fingers to the hole in his black tactical shirt. They came away red and as if life was in slow motion, he looked up at the target, whose own eyes were widening. Swallowing thickly, Lorcan whispered, “Agent down.”

Then, he stumbled back another step and hit the railing, tipping over it and falling to the river.

The wind whipped at his body and he was so tired, he was in so much pain.

Eventually, he hit the water below with a resounding boom, the spray nearly touching the bridge he’d fallen from. As he grasped to the tendrils of life as the current swept him under, he felt someone cup his face and opened his eyes.

Elide floated above him, a gentle, peaceful sort of smile playing at her round lips. She didn’t say a thing and Lorcan tried, tried to tell her the words that had been locked away inside his ancient, wicked heart for an eternity, but there was too much water, down his throat, down his nose, in his eyes.

Elide Lochan, I love you.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

It was a quarter to eight and Elide looked at herself in the mirror, appraising the vision. She could almost imagine how Lorcan would react.

First, his eyes would catch on her face and he’d smile - he always did and he never noticed.

Then, in afterthought, he would flick his gaze over her body and pause, his lips parting in a soft gasp as he drank in the sight of her curves. He would sear her skin with his stare as he looked at the way the black silk of the dress he’d bought her slid over her body, delicate diamond decorated straps that attached the cowl neckline to the low-cut back and left her creamy skin on almost full display.

Lorcan would walk up slowly, looking up and down her figure and then ruin the moment by doing something juvenile like grabbing her ass or saying something crass that had her laughing even though she would deny it until she was blue in the face.

Elide reached over for her earrings, single drop diamonds that had once belonged to her mother. She cast a harsh glance over her makeup, her cheeks heating at the deep maroon lip. Lorcan had a little bit of a thing for coloured lipsticks and liked to have her leave marks over his body, smeared against his across his skin.

She heard a knock on the door and her stomach clenched in anticipation. Elide breathed out slowly as she walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs, one hand holding her swishy skirt and biting back her smile as she waltzed across the front hall and put her hand on the cool silver handle.

With one last calming sigh, she opened the door, not at all prepared to see Rowan and Connall standing on the doorstep, wearing somber faces. “Oh, hi. Lorcan’s not here right now, he’s still at work, I think. We’re going out.”

They looked at each other with unease and Connall stepped forward, the moon to his brother’s sun wearing a broken expression. “Ellie…”

She curled her shaking hands into fists, determined to not let them see her breakdown over nothing. Lorcan probably had to work late, she understood. They could reschedule.

“Ellie, Lorcan’s not… he’s not…” Connall’s voice died off and he looked in desperation at Rowan, who looked seconds from tears.

Her voice was dry and cracked when she dared whisper a question for which she dreaded the answer,

“Where is he?”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

oh he fucking dead doe - that’s where he is 😳 anyways, i just wanted to let everyone know that i will not be posting as often as i did with previous wips - frankly, i can’t keep it up, i’ve been writing pretty much nonstop since april and im a lil tired. there are other contributing factors (ie, i have thirty chapters planned out + an extra scene and im writing it serially which i don’t usually do) but yeah, that’s what’s up! i am hoping to post twice a week on sundays and wednesdays (8pm pacific time babey) and that may drop to once but whatcha gonna do

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @lovemollywho @queen-of-glass @jlinez @sleeping-and-books @ireallyshouldsleeprn @verypaleninja

#with my life #wml chapter two #spy au #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore #he's not actually dead don't worry come on #the first....two? chapters are like technically pre-summary #like the now isn't until chapter three #wow im spoiling a LOT of tings here

112 notes · View notes

starseternalnighttriumphant · 6 years ago

Note

Daddy!Rowan first time? And/or how they met?

So this is also mixed with @myfeyrelady request of Aelin matching with Rowan on Tinder, her bio saying "if anyone is looking for a girl to spoil I’m an angel who has expensive taste" LMFAO

Aelin could never sleep well the nights before a big meeting, so that’s how she found herself on a dating app, swiping through profiles, bored out of her mind and disappointed with the choices of men before her. She’d created the profile purely out of amusement, her bio even saying “if anyone is looking for a girl to spoil, I’m an angel who has expensive tastes”. Half an hour into swiping, she paused on a profile, her interest peaked.

Rowan, she read. 28 years old. Runs a company. Enjoys expensive pursuits in his free time. A smirk flirted on her lips. She could be an expensive pursuit. She swiped right and was immediately matched with him. Her smirk became a full blown grin as she typed a message to him.

She was twenty minutes early for the meeting, just like she usually was. She was dressed in a deep purple dress that straddled the line between propriety and inappropriateness. Black heels were strapped to her feet and her golden hair tumbled down her back in waves.

She supposed it didn’t matter what she wore, since this was her father’s company, and she was acting chief operations officer here. Directly under her father Rhoe Galathynius, she had as much power as the three other officers in the company. Her cousin Aedion was the vice president of human resources and legal affairs here too. Her only ally in the company when her father wasn’t here.

She opened the door to the board room and started to set up for the meeting with the CEO of Wendlyn Technology Company, an elusive man that only answered to Mr. Whitethorn. Even her father didn’t know what his first name was. She herself had spent hours digging up information on him but there wasn’t even a picture of him on the company’s website. From all the office chatter, the most she’d come to understand that he was a real hardass and difficult to deal with.

Slowly, the other board members trickled in. Weylan Darrow, the chief finance officer who had a penchant for making Aelin’s life hell; Murtaugh Allsbrook, the president of global relations; Ren Allsbrook, frenemy and vice president of management; Aedion, her father, and an assistant to take notes of the meeting.

Rhoe came up to her as she was pulling up different graphics for the meeting, a warm smile on his face.

“How’s everything looking, Fireheart?” he asked her.

“Looking good dad. I spent last night going over everything to make sure Mr. Stick Up His Ass won’t find anything wrong with our meeting today,” she murmured to him, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a grin.

He chuckled. “As long as you don’t call him that during the meeting.”

She rolled her eyes playfully as the door opened and another assistant announced Mr. Whitethorn’s arrival. A small smile on her face, she looked up to greet the CEO. The smile quickly fell at who stepped in.

He was gorgeous. A good six inches taller than her, with a fit frame, broad shoulders, a head of styled silvery-white hair, and handsome green eyes. He was dressed immaculately in a back suit, a gold watch glinting on his wrist.

And he was the man she’d matched with last night on that dating app, Rowan.

As his attention turned to her, his polite smile fell as well as disbelief crossed his features. Aelin stared at him, open-mouthed, but she quickly gained composure when she saw that Aedion and Ren had noticed both her and Rowan’s reactions. She strode forward, hand reaching out to shake his.

“Mr. Whitethorn,” she purred, “a pleasure. Aelin Galathynius, COO of Galathynius Technologies.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Galathynius,” he drawled, his hand squeezing hers as amusement flickered in those gorgeous eyes of his.

The meeting went off without a hitch, and in the end Rowan Whitethorn had seemed thoroughly impressed with what Galathynius Technologies had to offer his company. He requested to go over details of their new partnership, and her father had gestured to her, saying Aelin would be the one to finalize the details.

As they exited the board room, Rowan’s hand settled on Aelin’s lower back as they walked down the sleek and sophisticated halls. She bit her lip to hide the smirk that threatened to stretch across her lips. She led him into her office, shutting the door behind them as Rowan went to the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the city of Orynth.

“So, you didn’t want to mention that the meeting you had to attend in the morning just so happened to be the same meeting I was going to as well?” she asked, crossing her arms as she leaned against her desk.

He turned towards her, a brow raised but a smile flirting on his mouth. “Imagine my surprise, Miss Galathynius, when I showed up to this meeting expecting to deal with a bunch of cranky old men, but instead went head to head with the same woman flirting with me last night.”

She huffed a laugh, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “You’re a very shrewd business man, Mr. Whitethorn. I was pleasantly surprised with our meeting today.”

“Are we still in a business meeting, or can I ask you to have lunch with me?” he inquired, coming to stand in front of her.

She smiled, cocking her head as their eyes met. “Lucky for you, my lunch hour is about to start.”

@highqueenofelfhame @myfeyrelady @westofmoon @schmlip-scribble @empire-of-wildfire @kandasboi @myqueenjudeduarte @myqueenjudeduarte-main @rowanwhitethornss @anabelkay

#rowaelin #daddy!Rowan #rowaelin prompt

272 notes · View notes

iamthebonecarver · 6 years ago

Text

Friendly Reminder

Lysandra, Aedion, Emerys, Malakai, Hasar, Reina, Orlon Galathynius, Weylan Darrow, Kaya, Thea, Morrigan, Andromache, Thesan, and Helion are very gay.

Happy pride month!

#sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #sarah maas #aelin ashryver #throne of glass #bone carver babbles

149 notes · View notes

brandyovereager · 5 years ago

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn Characters: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien, Rowan Whitethorn, Rhoe Galathynius, Weylan Darrow Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, crime lord Rowan, badboy Rowan, criminal!Rowan, rowaelin fluff, Fluff Summary:

Aelin is the daughter of Orynth's police captain. Rowan is a major crime boss. They're in love.

Here’s your first bit of my fic! Enjoy! Let me know what you think.

#rowan #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin ashryver #aelin galythinius #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fluff #fluff #tog #throne of glass #tog fic #tog fanfic #tog fanfiction #sarah j mass

11 notes · View notes

en-busca-de-nuevas-obras · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 13

Story Summary: What would’ve happened if Meave’d had her way? What if Aelin’d gone to Doranelle when she was “supposed to”? How much of the story would have changed? Spoiler alert: a lot.

Previous Next Ao3

First Chapter

People who wanted to be tagged: @snaps7 @cherryblossomfae @silenceofthe-angel @cofeechocolates

“… This is ludicrous. They’re not moving against Terrasen. We have peace with Adarlan. Even more so, they had requested to come here to reinforce the trade markets. What on earth makes you believe they have intentions of moving against us” the council member finished his longwinded speech by raising his hands in a theatrical manner that Rowan knew fully well was only for the king’s benefit. For him to know how dramatic and dire the situation was.

It was an effort not to cringe at the number of clichés he had to endure in one afternoon. Let alone in all the expand of months he had to bear these same debates ever since the king of Terrasen had finally allowed him to be part of them. It had even taken Aelin to plead his case for her uncle to let Rowan be part of the planning. Pathetic.

Indeed, Rowen’s been part of many versions of those council meetings already in his life. Working for Meave had meant traveling to many kingdoms to do exactly what he was traying to do just then: to end their wars and make fruitful alliance with Doranelle – even, if in this case, was disguised with the pretense of taking care of a fire bringer child. He was sure he was there only for that purpose, for what other reason the queen would have to let him be away from the stone castle for so long.

He caught himself before he could yawn at them all and schooled his features into his calculated self once more and said to the businessman “Even if I respect where you’re coming from, Lord Gunnar. I must remind you that this was done before on other kingdoms throughout Erilea” He pointed to three points on the map “They are clearly visiting those places so they can strike some pretense of peace, scout the land, and then bring the army once they know where to station them” He nodded to Evalin and Rhoe as he explained “It is an awfully used strategy but due to protocols and diplomacy, it can never be deterred if one is always hopping for peace”

“So you say, Prince.” Lord Darrow stared at him as he always did, narrowed eyes and a furrow over his brow, clearly not happy with him speaking at all “We are being leaded into a trap and we can’t even say not to it. It seems a little paranoid to us, if you don’t mind me agreeing with Gunnar”

“Weylan, please,” Murtaugh cut in. His tone patiently with the Lord, indicating that there’s been more than one time where one of the councilmen had to intervene in Darrow’s sneers. “He’s obviously stating that we should use this opportunity to plan ahead. Not to be blinded by promises. They have after all, made the same alliances before and broke them.”

“And yet. They will predict our reservations about their arrival.” The first businessman proposed to them, just as he have for weeks by then. “As the Prince stated. Yes, we’re aware of the many attacks on their former allies. Which led us to believe there’s no reason for Adarlan to assume we aren’t expecting the same. However, if their intentions are ill. Then why use the same strategy? Why the king himself is coming when he’s never done it before? Why come here with the risk of an ambush?”

The other men in the room appeared to ruminate for the umpteenth time on the overused argument. Had Rowan been younger or a lesser male, he would’ve scream at them all. He had no doubt of it. Even for a Prince accustomed to strong headed leaders, he couldn’t fathom how much time it took them to arrive to a decision. To see that no one found it tiresome made him ill. To remember it would be soon a year since he arrived to Orynth and almost nothing’s been decided made his ice burn cold through his veins.

At least, Evalin and Rhoe sighted then “We’ve been through this countless of times, Uncle” the later finally cave in. “With the same arguments that we’ve been discussing since the letter from Adarlan came here.”

“And they are already on our doorstep and we need to take action.” Evalin nodded to her husband as she continued. As always, ready to take the decision to protect their family first. “The prince Rowan should call Doranelle’s help before it’s too late.”

Rowan held his breath as he waited for the king’s answer. And even though he was there for that exact same reason, he dreaded it. Even if it was already done. One part of him – the one weak and hopeful – wanted this war to be extinguished before they come to this. The thought of his companions fighting in this land of learning and prosperity, the thought of battles staining the green hills red, of mud ruining the white snow scenery. It all threaten him to remember another time in his life when a peaceful prefect picture was tainted by blood. The warrior in him fought every day to crush those thoughts. Not always succeeding.

Now, shaking out of his thoughts he faced the king, waiting for his decision.

Orlon payed great attention to every word said in the meetings and in private with his councilmen, musing over every argument to a fault of dragging this particular debate this late in the planning for war. If only to be completely certain he would take the right decision, or perhaps the least wrong one; he often reminded them. Rowan heard the ruler was a great warrior but it was clear that now, at his late age, he was more concerned for his family and kingdom’s safety. Which could only make the fae prince respect the king more so.

Nonetheless, a decision had to be taken for the council men.

“You may call upon your companions, Prince” he declared and even said Rowan’s title without the mocking tone of the rest of his council. And, before any of the lords could argue, made his exit. Surely going to prepare himself for Adarlan's arrival.

Evalin Ashryver had to breathe in and out countless times before she was ready to prepare her daughter. She wasn’t sure of the reason. It could have been the anxiety for an imminent and yet elusive war, it might as well be the anger of so much time wasted in petty arguments with the king’s councilmen, it could definitely be the fact that her family was in danger. The thought of leaving Aelin by herself to fight alongside her husband. The thought of letting her into battle with her fire as so many Lords had dared to suggest. Indeed, she wouldn’t be able to pinpoint her emotions for a long time, not as long this threat kept luring over their heads.

Once every man left the council room, she squeezed her husband hands. Her only goodbye before heading towards Aelin’s tower. She couldn’t even glance at him. Not wanting him to see the fear in her eyes. No matter that she knew he would understand it, perhaps even share it.

They had put a lot of trust in their plants to use Doranelle’s forces. Going so far as to go there with only the king’s blessing, forgetting in their frenzy to ask for his men approval. A grave mistake, as they loved to point out ever since they reached Terrasen soil. It’d cost them months of planning, since they insisted in vetting the Prince for themselves, before letting him hear about their discussions of war.

Rhoe and Evalin hadn’t been deterred, though.

They’d met with Rowan night after night. Scheming their way back to those meetings. Going through every argument before putting them before the council. And yet, it hadn’t been enough. Nothing was for them.

Evalin shuddered at the memory of that dreaded night she decided with her husband to go over them once and for all. Weeks have passed since the day they cornered Rowan in one of Aelin’s training. Asking him to send the letters to his so-called cadre. Forgetting all protocol and reminding him of his duty to them, not Terrasen’s crown. They have been the ones who bargained with the fae Queen, not the king or his council. It was, after all, for Aelin’s safety, they reminded him.

The Prince wasn’t happy at the least. Nor surprised, he claimed. It had been a shock to hear his warnings about Aedion’s father. To realize how much he knew and how long he’d planned for Gavriel’s arrival. And yet, it had been a comfort too. One Evalin cherished in their current sea of dreadful waiting.

Once Evalin reached the door of her daughter’s chambers, she schooled her features into a fearless if not distracted look. She could do it for her. She would be brave again for her fireheart. Or at least she would fake it.

Rowan Whitethorn hated the King of Adarlan.

He couldn’t wrap his mind around his true intentions. Each speech and praise directed to the council members seemed as if tailormade for their vanity. And yet, his negotiations were swift and ruthless enough to show some clear motives for these meetings.

Still. He couldn’t fathom the reasons behind the trip all the way north just to meet the Royal Family. As the reports claimed, he’d only left the castle to attend battles. Even if Adarlan had moved with this particular strategy before, the King have never been involved. It was, to say the least, a little outputting for the fae Prince trying to piece together a strategy for his upcoming companions.

It all made him the more anxious whenever the king set his eyes on Aelin. As if he too was trying to piece something together. Something regarding the princess of Terrasen. It made the hairs in Rowan’s neck rise. Indeed, the second time he glanced at her – as if seeing a treasure in an eight-year-old – he had to check his instincts, the fae need to protect. He couldn’t afford to be that noticeable. Even if all Adarlan’s party knew of his presence in the castle. So he kept his place beside the windows a few feet away from their table, looking for an untrained eye as any other guard.

“You eat like a fine lady” he heard Aelin said to Adarlan’s Crown Prince.

Rowan had to suppress a smile at that. He could always count on Aelin not caring about the threats around her and just being her usual self. Perhaps it was her youth that kept her fearless, perhaps it was a mask. No matter what it was, he could never stop himself from being impressed at her wickedness.

He shook those thoughts away from him. After all, Terrasen could not afford him being distracted for even a second. Even if the reaction of the prince was even more puzzling than he expected - with all the fear of one not wanting to caught one’s father’s attention. Even if he couldn’t help but wonder about his own long gone child at the side of other's offspring there.

Rowan was trying hard to read between the lines of politics and schemes pouring out from Adarlan and Orynth alike when he heard the impossible. “If you like, you could be my friend”

He smiled then. It wasn’t every day that Aelin tried acting like a kid. He often wondered how she could be so serious and guarded with her nursemaid’s daughter. Why, now that she could control her flames, wouldn’t she brave the hills with other people than Aedion and just be free. Why she only let herself befriend her cousin. Why she said her book characters were her only friends. He often asked about it and she refused to give answer. Always lifting her sword and chin a little higher afterwards.

Rowan couldn’t help but feel proud of the princess. She had listened. But then he heard the prince’s reply and lost all hope. I have a friend... Now he had to suppress the need to roll his eyes at the boy.

Every time Rowan spent time around kids, he was reminded of how thoughtless they always seemed to be. Mora than before, he couldn’t stop himself from asking himself if his child might’ve been different. If it having Rowan as a guide, as someone who would actually pay attention to him, perhaps they would’ve been kinder. He would never know now, wouldn’t he? He robbed himself from that knowledge the day he decided that his own glory was more important. Which is more, as he’d been before, surely his child might’ve end up being even nastier.

Rowan cursed himself for opening that door, for letting the what ifs swarm his head again. After centuries of having that weakness shut deep inside him, he could not allow himself to be distracted by something as pathetic as asking what could have been different. Specially not now. Not when every word said in the room could mean an advantage for an imminent war. Not when Aelin –

“Princess?” the captain of the guard concerned voiced struck him out of his reverie.

The princess sat up from the table rubbing her head and mumbling for something to stop. Every foolish thought rushed out of his mind as he felt the magic inside Aelin surging up to protect her. To protect the girl from something that only seemed to be taking place in her head. Aelin reached for her glass of water, brows furrowed and nose pinched up. The expression of pain in the kid’s face threatened to send him to his knees. The panic locking him in place.

He saw the princess reach for him as every eye of the court was on her. Lady Marion and Quinn calling after her. Rowan heard rather than saw Evalin’s cereful approach “What is it, Fireheart?” she called after her daughter. But Aelin kept walking towards him.

Feet wobbling, she reached him, sticking a hand up to steady herself. “What’s wrong, Princess?” he heard himself asking, a weak and frightened voice dominating him.

She gripped his arm as she whispered “I don’t feel well”

Her mother rushed after them, quickly putting her hands in Aelin’s face as she asked at no one in particular “What is it? What’s feels wrong?” She glanced back at him, then at Rhoe who watched beside the King of Adarlan “She’s burning up”

Rowan heard Evalin asking for a healer, but it was all a blur as he focused on Aelin. Rubbing at her temples as if trying to get rid of something. It was pure fear he felt as he saw her walking away from them, smoke singeing her dress as she screamed at the thing inside her head “Get it out” over and over.

It was nothing he could do but watch as her father called her name, ready to battle whatever may trouble her. Watch as half the room was standing up to see, as frightened fools were running out of the dinner hall. The horror, of not knowing how to help her, kept him as a useless spectator and he cursed himself for it.

And then it happened. Blue flame shot out. Leaving him the exact time to feel it and shield the room to spare the people around them.

His magic could feel hers scream at something. Surging up to protect her again and again. She had enough flames in her to shattered the world, if she wanted to. One second she was there and the next she was a burning flame, blue fire shielding her from anything but the thing inside her. It raised above her head threatening to reach the ceiling.

He sent his magic. Building a shield around her. Still too dumbstruck to do anything else.

There was a bellowing from Rhoe at Evalin. He didn’t understand the pleading in the woman’s face until he saw the cloud of water heading towards the kid. A roar escaped from his mouth as he crushed the wave with his wind, sending it to soak the entire dining hall but leaving Aelin untouched.

The room felt silent as he approached the fire child. Crying and cowering on the floor. The flames doing nothing to quell the pain in her head. For some reason he could feel it. And new roar threatened to scape his mouth but he crushed it as he schooled his features into neutrality. He would not let them torture her further. Rowan would not let the kid fear her mother or her waves.

“I’m sorry” he told her when their eyes met. It wasn’t but a whisper but she nodded knowing all the same. Knowing what was to happen. Tears nothing but steam as soon as they escaped her.

He hadn’t given himself more time to think about it before he took the air out of her lungs, extinguishing the flames all together. Not long after, a blanket passed before him and wrapped the princess. The nursemaid rushed out of the room with her, surely taking her with the healers.

For many years it’d all been a blur to him, the instincts and the panic blending the minutes together. Only one thing was clear in his memory. The scene unfolded after that wretched chaos. The water spilled in the entire room. The food wasted, the cups spilling their drinks staining the floor with wine. The heartbroken family rushing to their daughter. The king of Terrasen stunned and frozen still in his seat. The councilmen sneering at the door through which the princess had banished. And through it all, the king of Adarlan looking at third time at the princess before she was carried out. A smile horribly placed upon his face.

Just a day after that particularly interesting dinner, The Crown Prince of Adarlan found himself seated in an elaborate tea party in the middle of the most lavish garden he had ever seen. He was sure his mother was already taking notes of it. Of every ornate fountain mimicking lovers or dears, the hedges perfectly placed beside one another and every flower selected to compliment the scent of the nature around it.

Indeed, it was all well and gorgeous until seeing how extremely cared for the Princess of Terrasen was – with her dozens of guards, plus her cousin beside her on their table and her fae warrior not far behind – made him realize of something quite depressing.

Dorian realized then how much he hated every part of being the Crown Prince of a battle-hungry kingdom. Hated to be so utterly important for the crown prestige and yet being just as utterly useless. He was, after all, just a kid. Thus, he was invisible.

The prince was a pretty jewel in his father's persona, shiny to look at first, but to be quickly forgotten in all the king’s splendor.

He was constantly amazed of how easy it was to blend with the scenery. How easy was to scape to find his own amusement elsewhere. Amazed and pained, if he was honest. To the point of hating how he could be that forgettable.

And yet. Now could have been the perfect time to disappear. To be as far from the mind of his companions as he could be. But his luck could never be as good, couldn’t it?

Just as he was getting comfortable with being irrelevant in a court where everyone seemed on edge and with weapons at the ready. He had to upset the princess of the land, hadn’t he? His manners had to falter right at that particular tea party, hadn’t they? With so many members in Terrasen’s court to choose from, of course the prince would slip up in the presence of no other than the princess Aelin and her fae companions.

The stain isn’t as bad as it could be though he wanted to assure her. But deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be enough to un-pinch the girl's face.

Dorian could almost see the debate going around her warrior’s head. Perhaps wondering if it really would be that bad to throttle him for such an insult – the one made now, and surely the one made the day before, the one Dorian was almost sure had been the cause of the following madness.

And when the prince could finally breathe again, when he realized the massive fae male decided to let it go, the princess decided for the other fae on the table.

“Cousin, I think it’s time to show how a knight is always prepared to defend his kin, don’t you agree?”

Right there and then, Dorian decided he would never complain again for being left to be invisible. He finally understood how lucky he was, and how ungrateful.

Still he hoped the princess' guards would take pity on him. So he glanced at the fae warrior behind Aelin, with those blue eyes of him that rendered his nursemaid powerless every time. And regretted it. There was nothing but amusement at the princess' wickedness. Dorian tried with the other guards, but he found no mercy in them either, just some tired resignation.

There was nothing to be done then.

Dorian was whishing his pretty face farewell when someone approached them from the southern part of the gardens. Rendering the entire party silent. For the newcomer wasn’t just another court member. He wasn’t from Terrasen or even Erilea. Dorian would have dared to say he didn’t belong to the earth of the living at all. At least he didn’t seem so.

He was some great fae warrior, gleaming with weapons. Larger than the Prince Rowan. Face hewn as granite and dark clothed. A trail of darkness trailing behind him. Suddenly, Aedion and Rowan didn’t look half as bad to Dorian anymore.

“We need to speak with you” said the fae and Dorian heard the Princess whispering a name under her breath Lorcan. The quiet terror in her voice telling him all he needed to know as how much of a wide berth he should give to the warrior.

Nonetheless, The Crown Prince of Adarlan watched in awe as the Prince nodded to Lorcan. Shifting his features in something completely other. A soldier more than prince, Dorian realized. And it was all he could do not to faint before the male approached their table and asked the cousins “Please be merciful with your guests” giving then a quick nod to him “Your Highness”

As he saw the two fae male disappear into the gardens he tried to breathe evenly again. Though he failed miserably once he heard Aedion say to his cousin. “We can’t promise anything”

#rowaelin fic?#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver #aelin ashryver galathynius #dorian havilliard #evalin ashryver galathynius #throne of glass #tog fic #throne of stone - fic

2 notes · View notes

goforwardgreenwriter-blog · 7 years ago

Text

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 11 - 12

Luckily we’re not in the boring Elide/Lorcan subplot in this chapter, but back to Manon!

Everything had gone to shit. Everything.

Kinda like this series, huh?

In the end, she’d barely participated in Rifthold’s destruction, leaving it to the others. But she’d again donned her crowned helm, then ordered Abraxos to sail to the highest spire of the stone castle and roar his victory—and command. Even at the distant white walls of the city, ripping apart the guards and fleeing folk, the wyverns had paused at his order to stand down. Not one coven disobeyed.

Yesss I freakin’ love Manon so much. Can this book just be about her and Abraxos conquering evil kingdoms for their own?

Iskra had landed on the only space left: a lower bit of roofing below Manon. The positioning had been intentional. Iskra’s brown hair had come untangled from her tight braid, and her haughty face was splattered with human blood as she’d snarled at Manon, “This was my victory.”

I really like how Manon plans it all out, even down to the positioning so she’s looming over the other witches, reminding them of who is in charge. I propose a Manon fanclub, she deserves one.

Iskra trembled with rage. Not from the words. The wind had shifted, blowing toward Iskra. Blowing Manon’s scent at her. “Who?” Iskra seethed. “Who of mine did you butcher?”

Manon lies and said that the first witch had attacked Manon while she had been supposedly hunting Dorian, and also says that the other witches were killed by Rowan. Isarka all but announces that Manon is a liar and that she killed those witches, and now Manon has to deal with the consequences and face her grandmother.

Manon said to her Second and Third, “This will be messy.” Sorrel said quietly, “We’ll deal with it.” Manon clenched the helmet a bit harder. “If it goes poorly, you are to take the Thirteen and leave.”

Again, another character who is a much better leader than Aelin, looking out for her group’s safety. And Manon is a blood thirsty murdering witch.

So Manon goes in and all the witches have gathered.

“The Crone’s Sickle hangs above us,” Cresseida intoned. “Let it be the Mother’s blade of justice.” This was not a meeting. This was a trial. Iskra began smiling.

Oh my god, characters facing consequences for their decisions?? It isn’t just swept under the rug or dismissed?? In MY SJM novel??

“And, as the sentinel was a part of the Yellowlegs’ heir’s own coven, it is also a crime against Iskra.” Her grandmother’s face was tight with rage—not for what Manon had done, but for getting caught. “Through either your own neglect or ill-planning, the lives of four other coven members were ended. Their blood, too, stains your hands.” Her grandmother’s iron teeth shone in the candlelight. “Do you deny these charges?” Manon kept her back straight, looked each of them in the eye. “I do not deny that I killed Iskra’s sentinel when she tried to claim my rightful prize. I do not deny that the other four were slaughtered by the Fae Prince. But I do deny any wrongdoing on my part.”

I like how it balances each character’s viewpoint. To the witches, Manon has murdered five of her own kind, but to the reader, Manon did it to save a main character and hero, so you’re sympathetic towards Manon but the witches disowning her doesn’t seem like a contrivance.

Petrah, who Manon saved in one of the previous two books, asks Manon if she considers her an enemy or ally, and Manon says she sees her as a rival. Then Petrah asks Manon why she rescued her then while another wyvern killed hers.

Manon lifted her chin. “Because Keelie fought for you as she died. I would not allow her death to be wasted. I could offer a fellow warrior nothing less.” At the sound of her dead wyvern’s name, pain flickered across Petrah’s face. “You remember her name?”

Awww.... this is so heartwarming. It shows Manon isn’t entirely heartless and has a kind side, and it’s really good pay off for Manon’s earlier actions helping her now. Manon really is the best part of these books.

Because of Petrah speaking for Manon, her grandmother decides it’s not worth losing Manon just to fulfill the blood that has been lost.

“The blood shed must be equal,” her grandmother intoned. Her attention flicked over Manon’s shoulder. “So you, Granddaughter, will not die for this. But one of your Thirteen will.”

Oof, that’s super cold. Her grandmother addressing her so personally adds to the impact of the blow. Seriously SJM, you struck gold with the witches, why couldn’t the books be about them?

At this point Manon’s grandmother announces that Asterin will die the next day to pay the blood debt, and the chapter ends. I turned the page after that desperate for more, only to see that Chapter 12 is Aelin’s POV. Isn’t that just...great.

Without Evangeline slowing them down, Aelin, Aedion, and Lysandra traveled with little rest as they hauled ass for the coast.

“hauled ass” are you fucking kidding me... this is a fantasy novel and you’re gonna describe the characters as hauling ass....

Aelin tried not to dwell on it too much—on the threadbare estates, the abandoned farms, the gaunt-faced people whenever they ventured into town, cloaked and disguised, for desperately needed supplies. Though she had faced darkness and emerged full of light, a voice whispered in her head, You did this, you did this, you did this. That voice often sounded like Weylan Darrow’s icy tones.

Yeah, because it’s totally Darrow’s fault that you’re a spoiled snot who did nothing to help your kingdom for years.

The town of Ilium was as ancient as Terrasen itself, and would likely have already been forgotten by traders and history were it not for the crumbling temple at the northeastern edge of the city, drawing enough pilgrims to keep it thriving.

So they arrive at Ilium and Aelin wastes no time missing her fae prince’s dick. I understand she’s worried and all for his safety, but I know as soon as he’s back they’re gonna fuck like animals because they can’t stand to leave each other for two seconds and I’m not looking forward to it.

Some soldiers of Lord of Meah,one of the Lords in Adarlan, are camped in the port. Apparently after Dorian left after the witches attacked, all the Lords are starting to try to take over bits and pieces of land. Naturally this should upset Aelin, since Dorian is her friend and here are the people supposedly on his side claiming territory for themselves, right?

Aedion kept quiet as they rounded a corner, aiming for the small seaside inn Lysandra had also scouted that morning. On the other side of the city from the temple. The temple the soldiers had the nerve to use as their barracks. “Is this about sending a message to Adarlan, or to Darrow?” Aedion asked at last.

FUCKING FUCK OFF WITH THIS DARROW HATE I S2G!!!! Aedion has his nose buried so far up Aelin’s ass he can’t take even one tiny piece of criticism directed towards her!!! Darrow was right to not trust you assholes hoooooly shit

“It is about freeing my people, who have dealt with these Adarlanian pieces of shit for too long,” Aelin snapped, reining her mare in to a halt before the inn courtyard. Lysandra’s talons dug into her shoulder in silent agreement.

At least Aelin doesn’t agree. And whoa, Lysandra, are you trying to tear Aelin’s shoulder apart? Unless Aelin is wearing something over her shoulder to protect herself, those talons have gotta hurt!

Aedion mentions the Mycenians, and maybe it is just my short attention span, but who are they...? Man, SJM just keeps adding new people and groups and I honestly cannot remember who any of them are.

“And [the Mycenians] disbanded and vanished soon after that, never to be seen again,” Aedion countered. “What’s your point? You think liberating Ilium will summon them again? They’re long gone, Aelin, their sea dragons with them.”

OH SHIT SEA DRAGONS??? Sign me up. Gimmie bad ass warriors on ships commanding their sea dragon companions. Hell yeah.

[Aedion] double-checked that Rowan’s knife was securely buckled at his side before he said to Aelin and Lysandra, still by the window, “I know you two are of the opinion that we males are here to provide you with a pretty view and meals, but I am a general of Terrasen.

Aedion, I used to like you, but now SJM has ruined you.

“That temple is my birthright,” Aelin said. “I cannot allow that insult to go unchecked.” She rolled her shoulders. Revealing her plans, explaining herself … It would take some getting used to. But she’d promised she’d try to be more … open about her plotting. And for this matter, at least, she could be.

Yeah, we’ll see how long she sticks to that. Also, love how she’s implying she’s only mad they took the temple because it is hers. As in, if they stole one of Dorian’s temples she wouldn’t care.

So Aedion mentions this kingsflame flower that used to bloom in the kingdom. Darrow is in possession of the last one. I have the feeling this is leading up to a scene where the kingsflame flower will bloom when Aelin takes back her crown. I love symbolic shit like that, but I know SJM is gonna make it allll about what a great ruler Aelin is and we’ll have 300 pages of everyone gushing about her.

Aelin and the rest leave to eat, and the chapter ends.

#anti sjm #the worm talks #the worm reads: eos #anti tog #anti eos

17 notes · View notes

fuzzballsheltiepants · 8 years ago

Text

The Forging of the Wolf, Chapter 8

Mildly NSFW. Read Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7.

“Gods, you look like shit,” Raedan said as Aedion slipped into a chair in the tavern.

“Thanks, brother,” he said drily, as a server appeared with a plate laden with eggs, toast, sausage and mushrooms.

Litton looked up from his own plate and sniggered. “I don’t know, Raedan,” he said with a sly grin. “To me he just looks like he got rode hard and put up wet.”

Aedion pointed his fork at his fellow lieutenant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied innocently, though his mouth twitched into an involuntary smile.

“Come on, Ashryver, that girl was beautiful.” She had been. Beautiful and sweet and glorious under his hands.

Raedan was watching the two of them like a cat torn between two mice. “What girl?”

It hit Aedion then - how did Litton know what the girl looked like? “Right, what girl? I left alone.”

Litton nodded, his smile turning wicked. “So you did. But you see, here I was last night, talking to a lovely young woman, and what do you know? She kept asking me if I knew you, if I’d be able to introduce her to you. I told her I thought you’d be happy if she introduced herself, and gave her your room number. When she didn’t come back…”

Raedan punched him in the arm. “So that’s why you’re a bit late! Good for you! It’s about time.”

“No, I’m late because I’m the only one who ever feeds the damn horses.” The others laughed. “Which reminds me, it looks like rain. We better get moving if we want to get anywhere today.”

“And what do you mean it’s about time, Raedan?” Litton asked, forehead puckered. “Wasn’t he fucking your sister?”

Raedan rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Why does everybody always think that?” Aedion laughed, shaking his head at the pair of them.

It rained off and on all morning, getting steadily worse as they rode into the afternoon. When they finally reached a village with a small inn, they were soaking and miserable. They hustled the horses into the stable, and Raedan’s teeth were chattering audibly while they quickly stripped the tack off the horses and began rubbing them down. As they finished and Aedion threw the animals armloads of hay, he turned to find Litton rummaging in the saddle bags. He pulled out a small bottle and tossed it to Aedion, who caught it automatically. “What’s this?”

Litton shrugged. “I figured if you’re going to start enjoying yourself, you should probably be taking that. Unless you want to sire children all over Adarlan.”

Aedion’s jaw dropped, and he turned in the direction they had ridden from. “Shit! Oh, shit. I never even thought…What do I do? Should I go back?”

The other two laughed. “What do you mean?” Litton asked. “No doubt she’s taking something. Even if she wasn’t, if she started today it’ll be fine.” Aedion followed them into the inn, still fretting about the contraceptive tonic that now felt so heavy in his pocket. He didn’t want to leave that lovely woman as his mother had been left, alone to raise an unwanted child. He didn’t want to be like whoever his father was, unaware or uncaring that his son walked the earth at all. The second he was alone in the tiny room the innkeeper showed him, he gulped down a dose of the foul-tasting liquid.

The tavern directly below his room was packed with locals and travelers alike. He threaded his way through the crush of people until he saw the others. Litton had somehow found them not just a table, but four women with whom to share it. The women were all giggling at something Raedan had said, and both men had broad grins no doubt caused by the female hands on their thighs. Aedion hesitated just a second before joining them. He was welcomed enthusiastically by the women after Litton’s brief introduction, and soon found himself joining into the flow of the banter. At first it was easy to grin and joke, but after an hour he found it all grating. The women all seemed to gush too much over his accent, his eyes, the size of his hands. They touched him - touched all three of them - with too much of a proprietary air. Yet when they split up for the night, he didn’t object when the slim brown-eyed girl followed him; he didn’t hesitate to respond when she pulled him down into a kiss, didn’t even pause as their clothes hit the floor and they found themselves tangled together on the bed. Nor did he stop her when she gathered her clothing and slipped out of the room once their panting had slowed. No, he relished the freedom of having the bed to himself, and drifted off thinking Delaney’s sharp wit, Avis’ sweet smile, Maida’s bubbling laughter. Of the unknown woman’s gray eyes hooded with passion, her skin silky beneath his lips.

*****

When Delaney appeared at Clery’s house the next morning for her day’s assignment, she was shown into a small empty parlor to wait. She could hear raised voices, the words indistinct, from somewhere above her. There was a small crash, as if a door had been flung open and hit the wall, and then a thin, wiry gray-haired man, face hard and sharp as a blade, passed the parlor door.

“Weylan,” came Clery’s voice from the region of the stairs, “stop. Please. Surely you can see -”

“See what?” The other man’s voice was cold and dry as a winter wind. Delaney shivered, despite the warmth of the room. “See that you’re going to waste more resources, more lives, trying to rally a force that has scattered to the four winds? One that has no hope of overcoming Adarlan’s might?”

“You don’t know that.”

A quiet snort sounded. “Yes, Clery, I do. They killed the greatest king since Brannon himself, then his heir and the princess of the wildfire. They slaughtered my forces as if they were chattel. When we have no one left to rule, it is the lords’ responsibility to protect the people. Our people are dying, Clery; dying from the sanctions and the taxes that bastard King has levied on us. I will not send more to their death on a fool’s hope.”

Clery walked into sight of Delaney’s unintentional hiding spot then, his fists clenched, veins popping on his neck. “So you mean to just give up, then?”

“Give up? I mean to survive, and help our people do the same. You would do well to heed that right now, those are our choices. Survive, or die.” The door creaked open, then closed with a firm click. Clery stood silently in the hall, the only sounds the crackling of the parlor fire and his heavy breathing. Delaney must have shifted then, as suddenly he turned to her, a calm mask falling over his face.

“Give me a moment, Layne,” he said. “I’m running a bit late this morning.”

Delaney sat on the couch, idly perusing the titles of the books on the small adjacent table, as the minutes ticked by. When she heard footsteps nearly running down the steps, she leaped to her feet and met Clery in the doorway. He handed her three letters, their addresses so hastily written as to be barely legible. “Please deliver these, quick as you can. When you get back, I’ll have more.”

Glancing at the addresses and her map, she was pleased to see that she had been to all three before, and relieved that none required Horse, given that she had left him stuffing his face full of hay in the Three Pigs’ stables. Her years of practicing negotiating crowded spaces unnoticed proved helpful, and she slipped through the streets at a jog. In under ten minutes she was gasping for breath in the foyer of the first address, one of the large ornate homes that she found a bit intimidating. She had barely recovered enough to plan her path to the next place when the master of the house appeared himself and pressed his reply into her hand and she was off again. The next home was a similar experience, though the house was small and run down and she could hear the letter’s recipient cursing under his breath. Finally, she half-ran to the third. The lawyer’s office had a client, who the lawyer unceremoniously sent out with a promise of contact later in the day, upon receipt of the letter. The man then ensconced himself in a back room with his assistant. There was low muttering behind the door for several minutes, then an excited voice exclaimed, “Then Darrow can go to Hellas’ fiery realm!” There was a hushing sound, and the man continued more quietly but still intelligible. “That bastard lost his spine when Orlon died, and now he’s just bending over for the King. He won’t even try to raise the Bane? Then we’ll do it without him.”

Delaney’s ears had pricked up at Darrow’s name; she had barely heard anything after that. Was it possible that bitter man from this morning was the man she sought? She shuddered at the thought of delivering her message to him. Yet Aedion had bade her to find him, and she would do so if it took her last breath. The lawyer’s assistant burst out of the back room and jabbed the letter at her, and she tucked it in her cloak and ran.

Clery seemed surprised by her reappearance, and after checking that the seals were intact complimented her on her efficiency. He presented her with a stack of perhaps a dozen letters and two silver coins, promising a third if she returned before the evening meal. She did so with time to spare, even after pausing to gobble a meat pie from a stand she passed. On return to Clery’s house, she accepted her coin and then paused, debating whether or not to ask about the man from the morning. Clery noticed her hesitation.

“Do you need something, Layne?”

“No, sir,” she replied, “I just…I was wondering, sir, was that Lord Darrow this morning?”

She realized her mistake when he slowly met her eyes for the first time. “And what does a farm boy from Adarlan know about the lords of Terrasen?” he asked, too softly, ice in his voice.

“Nothing, sir, forgive me, sir,” she stammered, bowing. Turning to leave, she was halted by a hard hand on her arm and the smooth rasp of a knife being drawn. She froze.

“You know, boy,” Clery said in an oddly pleasant tone, “I’m a clever man. But even clever men can make mistakes.” He paused, seeming to be expecting a response, so she made an indistinct noise in her throat. “I can’t help but wonder, if I were the King of Adarlan, and I wanted to learn about rebel movements in a conquered realm, would I send in soldiers? Or would I send in a scrawny farm boy on a decrepit old horse, make him pretend to be looking for work? I think I’d do the latter, don’t you?”

Delaney wasn’t sure how to respond, so blurted out the truth. “Perhaps, but I doubt that he would send a young woman who may have a price on her head.”

Clery clearly had not expected that response. “Pardon me?” he said flatly.

She straightened up slowly and turned to meet his eye. “My name is Delaney,” she said in her normal voice. “Not Layne. I came to Orynth to deliver a message to Lord Darrow, one that I realized today may help your cause.”

“A message from whom.” There was no inflection in his tone.

“From a son of Terrasen.”

“A son of Terrasen. Living in Adarlan.” She nodded. ‘Who is this man? What was the message?”

Delaney shook her head. “I shall tell no one but Lord Darrow.”

Suddenly the knife was pressed against her throat. “I could kill you now,” he said in her ear.

“Then the message shall go unheard.” She couldn’t hide her trembling, but she would not betray Aedion, no matter if her life hung in the balance.

They stood like that for a long moment, before he slowly pulled the knife away. “I shall consider. Go back to the inn. If you try to leave the city, I shall know. Come here tomorrow and I will have my answer.”

Delaney fled.

*****

The week continued much as it had been. Every day they dealt with intermittent rain, never heavy enough to shorten their day’s travel but enough to try their tempers. Every night, women more or less queued up to share their beds. Aedion soon found himself growing bored. His cock had decided it quite liked being used for its real purpose, but his mind increasingly held the women in contempt even while his body reveled in their soft curves. He hated the way they stared at him as if he were some sort of novelty, a menagerie animal to gawk at and take pleasure in. He hated himself for being so eager to oblige them, but he found increasingly he couldn’t sleep unless he’d exhausted himself with one of them.

A day’s ride from Paget’s camp, the wind rose and with it what had been a light drizzle turned into torrents. When it shifted into sleet and the footing got slick, they stopped earlier than normal, having the good fortune of coming to a large market town. After settling in the horses and getting their rooms at one of the inns, Aedion set out to explore the town. Hood up over his head to protect himself from the frigid precipitation, he prowled the streets, soon ready to start snarling at the way people gave him a wide berth.

Finding a small bookseller, he entered, shaking back his hood and with it some of his temper. He perused the selection, finding a couple of interest. As he paid for his books and left the shop, he felt someone’s eyes on him, and glanced around. A man leaned against a brick wall across the street, watching him from under the hood of his fine green cloak. With a growl under his breath, Aedion tucked his purchase into his pocket and headed back to the inn.

The evening seemed destined to pass much as they all had. He was sitting with Raedan, waiting for Litton to appear with some ale, then for the hunt to begin. Whether he was the hunter or the hunted remained up for some debate in his mind. Suddenly Raedan paused in his chatter. “Do you know that man?”

Aedion looked in the direction Raedan indicated, to see the man from town, still watching him with cool interest, still leaning against a wall though a considerably warmer and drier one. His cloak was off, revealing black hair, eyes the color of fine brandy, and an aristocratic face. “No; why would I?”

Raedan shrugged. “Well we’re not that far from Terrasen, I wasn’t sure. Why do you think he’s staring at you?”

Looking back at the man, Aedion raised an eyebrow, receiving a slow smile in response. “Probably for the same reason as everyone else,” he replied, turning to his companion with a grin.

Raedan gave a snort and muttered under his breath something that sounded like, “Boy, get you laid a few times…” Litton returned then, and they soon had both their dinners and designated trysts for the evening. Aedion dragged his attention to the chirping woman now gripping his elbow, rewarding her inane conversation with a few smiles and laughs. He followed willingly enough as she guided him to her room, and his body got into the spirit of the evening as soon as his hands were touching bare flesh. But it was his gray-eyed beauty he pictured as he kissed and teased, and it was she who moaned beneath him as he moved deep within her.

A couple of hours later he was back at the bar for another glass of ale, trying to drown his unabated restlessness before heading to his own quarters. Someone took the stool next to him, and a warm, throaty voice asked, “So did you have a pleasant evening?” He turned to see the amber-eyed man from before signaling to the barmaid for a glass of some sort of clear liquor.

“Pleasant enough,” Aedion replied cautiously.

“And how was your choice of companion?” There was a touch of laughter in that beautiful voice.

Aedion’s lips twitched a bit. “She was…satisfactory.”

“Oh, dear.” The man laughed out loud at that. “Are you so experienced with women that you can manage to rate them?”

Now Aedion was grinning. “I’m getting there more rapidly than you might expect.”

“Well, I would imagine she would rate you a bit higher than satisfactory, if only because your companions have long returned to their own rooms.” He gestured behind him. “I’ve been sitting here bored out of my skull all evening, with nothing better to do than watch all you fools and take notice of comings…,” he cocked an eyebrow with a sly smile, “…and goings.” Finishing his drink, he tossed a coin on the counter and rose, stretching. He was nearly as tall as Aedion, though much narrower in his frame. He held out his hand. “Mikkal.”

“Aedion.” They shook, Aedion noting that the stranger’s calluses matched his own. A soldier then, most likely. Mikkal gave a courteous nod and left, and Aedion turned back to the bar. Draining his own glass, he too paid and then headed towards his room. When he reached the staircase, Mikkal was there waiting. Aedion’s breath caught, his heart ratcheting up, though he didn’t quite know why.

“You know,” Mikkal said, stepping in close, “I’ve been thinking. You shouldn’t have to end the evening with just satisfactory.” He stretched up and pressed his mouth to Aedion’s.

Though the man’s lips were soft, the kiss was anything but. No, there was command in this, and Aedion responded, a long-banked fire flaring through his veins. Reaching up, he cupped Mikkal’s jaw, marveling at the rough-soft feel of his stubble, such a contrast to the smooth tongue in his mouth. The other man’s fingers were tangling in his shaggy hair, and Aedion reveled in the hard muscle pressing against his body, nothing like the soft curves he had been exploring of late. His hands slipped down to grip the back of Mikkal’s arms, tugging him even closer. He didn’t know how long they stood there in the shadows, but eventually Mikkal pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss. Aedion didn’t let him go far, resting his forehead against the shorter man’s, eyes closed as he regained control over himself. After a minute - or an hour - Mikkal gently broke his grip and turned away.

“See you around, Lieutenant,” he said over his shoulder, and disappeared up the stairs. Aedion stood there for a long moment, head leaned back against the wall, before staggering up to his own room drunk not on ale but on the stranger.

*****

Delaney was at Clery’s while he was still sitting at breakfast the next morning. He laughed a little grimly when she was shown into his breakfast room. Setting down his fork and knife, he leaned back and surveyed her. She hadn’t bound her breasts that morning, though she still dressed as a boy; she wanted to give as much proof of her claim as possible.

“Well,” he said, eyes fixing on the swell of her chest, “looks like part of your claim is true at least. Why have you been dressing as a boy?”

She shrugged while she considered what was safe to tell him. “It was the suggestion of someone I met along the way. There may be people who are looking for me.” She hesitated, then added, “I had dyed my hair as well until I reached the city.”

“You’ll confess this to me, yet you won’t tell me who sent you, or why you are so determined to deliver your message only to Lord Darrow.” Her silence was response enough. “Well, Delaney,” and there was venom in the way he said her name, “I suppose I shall see if Darrow is willing to meet with you, and under what conditions. I will send for you once I have his answer.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said and left. On her return to the inn, she sought out the innkeeper and laid out a version of her story. The woman was sympathetic to her plight of needing to escape from a violent husband, and thought she was clever to disguise herself as a boy and make it all the way to Terrasen, where surely the evil husband would never think to look for her. She promptly gave Delaney a job in the laundry for as long as she would need it, allowing her to remain there for free in exchange. At least this way she could stay and if Clery decided not to help she could try to track down Lord Darrow herself. She sighed as she helped gather the sheets from the guest rooms and heat the water for washing. It always came back to laundry for her.

*****

They reached Paget’s camp mid-afternoon the next day. It was set up not too differently from Perrington’s, and they were met as soon as they reached the square by an officer who identified himself as Captain Gall. He showed them to the stables, where they handed off the horses to the stable hands. Aedion was reluctant to turn Avenar over, and did so only with a rub to her forehead and a promise to visit later and make sure she was comfortable. The stable boy gave him a bow and assured him he would take special care of her, and Aedion thanked him with a squeeze of the shoulder.

Following a quick tour of the main buildings, Gall showed them to their assigned quarters. Litton and Aedion would be sharing a small, neat house with two other officers, who were absent at the moment; Raedan as left in the barracks with the other recruits. The captain waited while they set down their possessions, then ordered them to follow him as he headed to the main house. They were shown into a large study with an enormous desk. A tall man with dark hair silvered at the temples looked up from his work and surveyed them.

“General Paget, sir, this is Lieutenant Litton and Lieutenant Ashryver, newly arrived from General Perrington.” They both bowed.

The man rose and stalked around the desk, his eyes fixed on Aedion. “Well, well, well, boy, I can’t believe it. When I saw your name on the lists I nearly shit myself.” He snorted. “And you’ve managed to get taller and scrawnier, which I didn’t think was possible.”

“Sir?”

“You don’t remember me, do you.” It wasn’t a question, so Aedion didn’t reply. “And here I would have thought that nearly breaking your jaw would’ve made more of an impression on you.”

A memory of a rainy dawn flashed in his mind, of a beloved man dropping with an arrow to the throat, of a fervent wish to follow him. He put on his wildest grin. “I think the force of the blow knocked the memory right out of me, sir.”

The general laughed, surprising both Aedion and Litton. “With that smart mouth I’m surprised nobody has slit your throat. You owe Lord Breiner your life, by the way. He’s the only reason you didn’t hang that day.”

“I shall give him my thanks should I see him again, sir. Though you may believe you owe him a debt of a different sort once you’re done dealing with me.”

Paget laughed again. “Well, son, you’re good for amusement if nothing else.” He leaned against the desk, arms folded in front of him. “You’re a few days early, which is appreciated. Your main trainers won’t be here until the end of the week. In the meantime, you will be expected to join in with the rest of the lieutenants for workouts and meals. If you have any questions, Major Gall will address them.”

“Thank you, sir,” they both murmured, then Aedion reached into his pocket and handed him the letter Major Farrers had given him with a bow. They were dismissed, and as soon as they were out of the building and away from Gall Litton elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“What the hell were you thinking back there?” he hissed. “You can’t talk to a general that way.”

Aedion cocked his head at his friend. “Evidently I can,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

“And why didn’t you tell me you knew the general?”

“I didn’t remember him. Honestly,” he protested when Litton glared at him in disbelief. “I met him once for just a moment when I had just been taken prisoner.”

“But he broke your jaw?”

“Not quite, though not for lack of trying.” Aedion rubbed the area thoughtfully, remembering their brief interaction. “He knocked me off my feet though.”

Litton was shaking his head in disbelief. “And why did he punch you in the face? I mean, I can think of a dozen different reasons why anyone would want to, but what was it specifically.”

“I wouldn’t tell him my name.”

“You wouldn’t…Why the hell not?”

Aedion’s temper flared. “Look, I’d lost my entire family. I’d just watched my friends die trying to get me to safety. They’d dragged me behind a horse twenty miles in the rain, and I had no idea why they hadn’t just put an arrow through my throat too. I figured it was only a matter of time before I hanged, might as well make it sooner than later.”

Litton snorted, then started to laugh in earnest. Aedion just stared at him in confusion. “Well,” he said, when he was able to catch his breath, “I guess it’s ended up being later, huh?”

*****

It was after dark before Mikkal reached the gates. He greeted the unfamiliar sentinel, and was passed through with a bow. If his status didn’t earn him respect, his last name always did. It was the reason he had left this camp six years earlier; he didn’t want everyone falling over themselves because of his name. He wanted to earn his own promotions, and between the battles in Terrasen and now his service in Fenharrow he had finally done so.

It had not been his idea to return here, even if he hated the outpost near Bellhaven. But much of his advancement stemmed from his work with younger officers, and this round of officer training was being done here, so here he had been sent. He had planned on spending more time in town as he wasn’t due in for a few more days, but town had bored him. That golden-haired lieutenant had not.

Leaving his horse in the stables, he went straight to the main house. The housekeeper greeted him effusively. “Is the general in his study?” he asked, kissing her on the cheek.

“No, sir, he and your mother are at dinner. They weren’t expecting you till the end of the week, they’ll be thrilled you’re home.” Dropping his bags in the foyer, he took a deep breath and headed into the dining room.

Mrs. Giffard wasn’t wrong; on his appearance, his mother burst into tears and his father rose and embraced him. They ushered him into a chair and his mother fussed at one of the servants to get him a plate and some wine. His father leaned back and surveyed him with satisfaction.

“I can’t tell you, son, how happy I am to have you home. Or should I call you Captain Paget now?” He chuckled and Mikkal smiled politely. “You’re early, only about half your class are here yet so you can have a few days to spend some time with your mother.” His mother gushed and he murmured some words of agreement. The conversation was initially a little stilted, partly because his mother kept crying, but soon smoothed into a wide-ranging discourse on books, music, and the differences between Fenharrow and Adarlan. As the brandy was served, the general leaned back in his chair.

“Since you’re here early, I’d like your input on one of your new officers.”

“Oh?”

His father nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I think we may have a bit of a problem with him.”

“Already? How did he get promoted if he’s a problem?”

The general shook his head. “Not that kind of a problem. You should have a look at the report on him.”  His mother glared at them both. “He’s been here for all of an hour and you’re already putting him to work?” His father looked sheepish, but Mikkal was intrigued.

“It’s all right, Mother, I’d love to see what the situation is.”

They took their leave of her and headed into the study. The general lifted a large stack of papers, flipped through, and pulled one out. As Mikkal was reaching for it, he found himself thinking, Not him. Not the beautiful one.

He flipped open the folder, and of course it was him. Prince Aedion Ashryver, originally of Wendlyn then Terrasen. Interesting. The young man at the inn had shown none of the arrogance he would have expected of a prince, just what is natural to a freakishly large and attractive man. Age: sixteen. “Shit.” He said that out loud without meaning to.

His father just nodded, assuming a different problem than that his son had seriously considered taking a sixteen year old to bed. “Keep reading.”

Taken prisoner after killing several Adarlanian soldiers during the last battle in Terrasen, converted into a soldier for Adarlan. Had been training other recruits since fourteen. Sparring with older soldiers for the same time frame. Excellent horseman. Proficient with sword, dagger, throwing knives, bow, crossbow, and in hand to hand. Flawless record for sentry duty. Notes from Corporal Taber about excellence in strategic discussion. He flipped the page to see the letter from Major Farrers, scanned it, and looked up at his father. “He killed a man with one punch?”

The general looked grave. “Evidently. You’ll note Farrers is careful to state that it was a fair fight, but that the boy is stronger and faster than anybody had realized. Apparently he admitted he’d been pulling his punches since he was assimilated, but it sounds like the other man was insubordinate and he was trying to put him on the ground to prove a point.”

Mikkal whistled. “Well, he sure as hell did that.” He thought back to what he had observed from Ashryver at the inn and around the town. He hadn’t seemed overtly aggressive at any point; intimidating, perhaps, for ordinary citizens, but for the most part he’d been polite, amusing, unassuming.

“One of your tasks will be to devise a way for him to work out without killing anybody. We don’t want him in the habit of slowing himself down or weakening his blows, but we can’t risk our men either.”

“I’ll think of something,” Mikkal says. “This should be interesting.”

His father grinned then, a playful expression few ever saw. “I met him, you know. Right after he’d been captured. He was bruised and exhausted, and he was the most defiant creature I have ever seen in my life. I wasn’t even sure he was human, the way he looked at me.” He chuckled. “I told Breiner he should kill him while he had the chance, but he was adamant the boy could be turned.”

Mikkal mulled this over. “You think Breiner was right?”

“I hope so, son. I hope so.”

*****

The evening passed in a flurry of meeting new people, with the usual posturing and half-joking verbal sparring that always seemed to occur when soldiers met. The officers were encouraged to socialize, and there was even a small meeting room with a bar designed for that purpose. Aedion and Litton backed each other up, telling stories of their travels in tandem. As the hour started to grow late, Aedion tossed back one last drink and stood. “I’m going to go check on my horse,” he announced when he noticed all the eyes turning to him.

“Is that some sort of code?” one of the other men quipped.

Aedion grinned, and Litton piped up. “Nah, he’s just in love with his horse.” There was laughter and a few whistles at that.

“Come on, my friend, have you seen my horse? She’s beautiful.” Everyone laughed again as he made his escape. Avenar was fine, of course. The stable boy had been true to his word: her coat was gleaming, her tack polished, and she was knee-deep in straw. She nickered at him, and he rubbed her white spot for a while until she got bored and turned back to her hay. Litton’s and Raedan’s horses were fine too. He needed sleep, but the mere thought of lying alone in the dark gave him the jitters, so he explored the camp for a while until he heard the other officers returning to their living quarters. He and Litton were sharing with an experienced lieutenant and a captain, who had surveyed them both dispassionately and told them to make sure they cleaned up after themselves. He lay awake for a long time, gazing out his window at the constellations so familiar to him. He wondered where Delaney was, if she had found Darrow yet. If Avis and Maida were safe. If the gray-eyed woman had ever thought of him again after she had left without a good-bye. Where Mikkal was, and whether he’d appear at this camp…

The next morning, he was up early and spoiling for a workout. His lack of sleep had not cured his restlessness; if anything it had made it worse. Once he was out on the pitch, sword in his hand, he finally felt like he could take a real breath. Aedion’s opponent was a major who was perhaps thirty, with a pleasant face and a no-nonsense manner of handling his weapons. With the first clash of metal, Aedion found himself settled back in his body. Major Ivry was an excellent fighter, the best he had faced since sparring with Rhoe’s men, and time was called before either disarmed the other. It was the first time in over a year he hadn’t won a sword fight, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he bowed to the older man and received a bow in return.

The midday meal was the only one officers shared with the regulars, and Aedion was pleased to be find Raedan sitting with a group of fellow trainees. He slipped into the empty chair next to his friend, and was introduced around. It was obvious Raedan went up several notches in the other boys’ estimation for being on a first name basis with the new Lieutenant Ashryver, but as Aedion joined in with the teasing and raunchy jokes they soon seemed to forget that he outranked them. Until abruptly a familiar musky scent hit him, and the table around him hushed. He looked around to see Mikkal standing behind him, a captain’s insignia on his tunic. Standing, he inclined his head. “Captain.”

“Lieutenant.” Mikkal nodded once in return. “If you would be so kind as to join me, there are a few things I’d like to discuss.” With a quick smile to the trainees, Aedion followed him, trying to figure out if he was in some sort of trouble, or if this was merely an excuse to get him alone. Both options seemed equally likely, though what he could have done wrong already was a mystery. Mikkal led him out of the dining hall and down to the pitch, where he turned and examined him, arms crossed.

“I was watching you this morning, and I read your file,” Mikkal finally said.

“Sir?” Aedion replied, now pretty certain he was more on the in-trouble end of things.

“How long have you been holding back in your fighting?”

Oh. “Since I was about eleven, sir.”

“Why?”

“I broke another boy’s cheekbone, sir.” He found he hated calling this man sir, when all he wanted to do was drag him into another stairwell. Or a bedroom.

“And with weapons?”

“I only hold back with weapons if I’m helping train, sir.”

“So this morning, that was your best fight?”

“Well, sir, Major Ivry is a better swordsman than I’ve been up against in a while. I didn’t hold back, but I don’t know that it was my best fight.”

Mikkal nodded thoughtfully. “I’m going to have some dummies made so you can work your punches full-strength on something you can’t kill.” Aedion grimaced, but the captain didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll still have you work hand-to-hand some with people, but we may do something a bit differently, we’ll have to see.” He flashed a quick smile. “I’m your new trainer, by the way.”

*****

Mikkal walked away before he could do something utterly stupid. Following the session this morning, he had queried Ivry about Ashryver. The major was the best swordsman they had, which was why they had been paired. Ivry had shaken his head wryly. “That boy took every ounce of skill I had, Paget. And that’s with him being underweight and not yet fully grown. He’s faster than he has any right to be. Give him another thirty pounds of muscle and I’m not sure there’s any mortal alive who could stand against him.”

After making Ashryver demonstrate his skill with the bow, knife fighting, and throwing knives, Mikkal had reached the conclusion that there was nobody in the camp who could teach him anything about fighting. All they could do was build him up physically, and train him in strategy and managing people. Though the boy was confident in his skill, he wasn’t cocky. No, he was meticulous. And with those restless turquoise eyes and those broad shoulders and hands…yes, Mikkal was smart to depart when he did.

He spent the afternoon taking his mother into town to do some shopping and visiting. Naturally she kept enquiring about whether he had any particular lady friends in Fenharrow, and scoffing when he replied in the negative. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had women, it was simply that they bored him. He wondered what she’d say if she knew he desperately wanted to bed a teenage lieutenant he was responsible for training. As it was, she introduced him to several eligible young ladies in town, and he smiled prettily at them as they did at him but his mind was on his work. Not just Ashryver, but he had to do right by the rest of them as well. So he planned his program with half his brain, while playing the role of dutiful son and polite officer with the other.

As he escorted his mother back to the camp, he saw Ashryver laughing in the square with several of the other young officers. Their eyes met, and the boy gave him a brief flash of a cocky smile before turning back to the others. I can’t, Mikkal lectured himself sternly, citing all the reasons why it was a bad idea. Not that it was unusual for soldiers to share each other’s beds; but it was frowned upon for a superior officer to take an inferior one as a lover, especially if they were working closely together. He made a vow that for the next three months, he would treat Ashryver solely as a promising young lieutenant and nothing more.

*****

Delaney waited five days for Clery to send word. She passed the time when she wasn’t working exercising Horse and memorizing the city. Finally, she received a message one evening that she was expected the next morning; Lord Darrow would meet with her at Clery’s with a small collection of other people. She told the innkeeper and was given permission to take the day off from her laundry duties.

Her palms were sweating by the time she was admitted into Clery’s house. Though the layout was familiar to her, she somehow felt like a stranger. She was shown into the parlor, and she curtsied before the cold-faced lord and his entourage.

“Well, girl,” Darrow said waspishly, “I suppose you better tell us your story. Who sent you?”

Delaney straightened up, lifting her chin. She would not be afraid. “Aedion Ashryver, your lordship.”

Clery made a choking noise behind her. “Impossible! Aedion Ashryver is dead.”

The word clanged through her. Her knees recognized the meaning before her brain did, and she collapsed to the floor as everything went dark.

*****

It could not have been long before she awoke to gentle hands lightly slapping her face. Pain speared through her heart, and she swallowed hard against the sob building in her throat. Aedion, oh, Aedion, brother of my heart. She never should have left him to those bastards. How much had he suffered…

Clery’s concerned face swam into view, and she heard Darrow in the background say drily, “Still think she’s lying then?”

Clery glared over his shoulder, then turned back to her. “Delaney,” he said gently, but she couldn’t quite attend him. “Delaney!” More sharply. She blinked, and her vision cleared. “It seems I was wrong,” he said soothingly. “Lord Darrow informs me that though we were all under the impression Ashryver was killed in the battle against Adarlan,” he directed a venomous glance at the lord, “he actually was taken prisoner. Perhaps you can enlighten us on what happened since then?”

“He’s…” Her voice was quavering, and she gritted her teeth for a moment to try to find some control. “He’s still alive, then?”

“Yes,” said Darrow, watching her narrowly. “And according to the report I just received this week, he’s now a lieutenant for the King of Adarlan.”

Delaney pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and took a few deep shuddering breaths that turned into sobs. Alive, he was alive and a lieutenant. After a moment she regained her composure, and was helped shakily into a chair by a man she didn’t know.

“Quite an interesting response, young lady,” Darrow said.

“When I left…when I left he was in danger. I wasn’t sure if those Adarlanian bastards had killed him.” The men glanced at each other uneasily.

“Are you not from Adarlan yourself?”

Delaney shrugged indifferently. “Technically. I was raised in General Perrington’s war camp. If that’s not a motivator for a woman to turn against her country, I don’t know what is.”

She told them the whole story then, from hiding for years to avoid being taken by force, to the first time Aedion had stumbled over her when newly at Perrington’s camp. The hanging of the Terrasen guard earned grim looks from among the assembled company. She talked about how they had become friends, how he had basically adopted she and her siblings as family. How he fought like an animal and nobody knew what to make of him, so they tossed him in with the experienced soldiers. How everyone in camp seemed to love him, from the lowest stable boy to the highest officer, with the exception of the general. She told them about the confrontation with Balam over the thrown knife, and she teared up again when she got to how she had found him tied up, bleeding and barely conscious that night. Here she fudged a little bit, leaving out the details of the torture he had endured, that she had been unable to save him from. Only Darrow seemed to notice she was withholding information; his lips pressed into a thin line, but he let it go.

Finally, she reached the point when he had ordered her to leave, and she looked straight at Darrow. “He told me to come here, to find you. He wanted me to tell you he was alive, and that he was finding a way.”

“Finding a way. Is that the only message?”

She pulled out the map that had been left in her pack, with its little fable on the back. Hesitantly, she handed it to him. He scanned it quickly, then read it again more slowly before giving it to Clery who did the same. They exchanged a look. ‘’Do you know what this means?” Clery asked her.

“No,” she said, a little defiantly.

“He gave it to you but didn’t explain it?”

“It was in the pack.” They both looked at her expectantly. “He had hidden a pack for me, I didn’t know until the night he sent me away. This was in the bottom.”

“Why did he hide a pack for you?” Clery asked in bewilderment. “Surely he couldn’t have known he’d be…caught.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out for over a month.”

Clery turned to Darrow. “Surely now you see. Surely now you agree. We’ve got to rally the Bane. Rally them, and get him out of Adarlan. He’s the only surviving member of the royal family! If we find him, he can rule!”

“No.”

“What?” Clery exploded out of his chair. “You’re going to leave Prince Ashryver to those butchers? He could be key to winning this fight!”

“Did you not read this?” Darrow sneered, pointing at the paper in Clery’s hand. “We cannot go in there after him. Besides, he is not a Galathynius, he cannot rule. The lords rule Terrasen now, like it or no.”

“The King of Adarlan rules Terrasen,” Clery spat. “You sit and do nothing.”

Darrow just stared at Clery impassively for a long moment before turning to Delaney. “You, girl, what do you think?”

“What?” she asked, startled.

“We knew him as a boy. You’ve known him as he’s becoming a man. What do you think he wants us to do?”

She looked from one man to the other. While her heart ached to agree with Clery and go after her friend, her head told her he meant to stay. They could have escaped together that night, and he wouldn’t even let her try to get him out. The fact that he was still alive and had been made an officer…She spoke hesitantly. “Aedion - he’s smart. Smarter than you might think. He could have gotten out, if not with me, then after. If I had to guess, he’s got some sort of plan.” She thought for a minute, all the little stories he’d told her of his cousin, of his country, trying to piece it all together. “I do know he’s loyal to Terrasen, and wants her freedom. I know he never stopped grieving his cousin.” All the men in the room, even Darrow, flinched a little at that. “I think he wants to rise up in the army, maybe turn it against itself.”

Darrow looked to Clery, cold triumph lighting his eyes. “For now, we wait. We heed what he wrote. Let us see if he tries to make contact with us again.”

“Fine.” Clery threw the map down. “But I’m putting spies down near the border.”

The lord nodded. “Concentrate them near Paget’s camp. That’s where he should be, if my information is correct.”

Clery turned to Delaney. “Get your horse and your belongings. You’re moving in here.” He turned and stalked out of the room, leaving her staring after him, open-mouthed. Darrow chuckled, a dry sound like sticks rubbing against each other.

“Well, young lady. It looks like you’ve just stepped up in the world.” He rose, and with a nod to his companions gathered up the map and left. Delaney realized a bit belatedly that she still had no idea what the message had been, but at least she had fulfilled her promise. With a sigh, she gathered up her scattered emotions and went to get Horse.

#prequel #aedion #aedion ashryver #tog #my writing #throne of glass

63 notes · View notes

darling-cas · 8 years ago

Text

We Are Young: Chapter 2

Throne of Glass High School AU

Summary: Senior Rowan Whitethorn is new to town. It doesn’t take him long to get use to a new school, make new friends, even join the local hockey team. But it also doesn’t take him long to meet sophomore and figure skater Aelin Galathynius. And it doesn’t take him long to realize one thing; he can’t stand her.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Lysaedion Shower Scene | Masterlist

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

Standing in the middle of the school foyer, Dorian took a moment to stare up at the giant piece of fabric hanging from the ceiling.

The school colours stared back at him. LETS GO ROYALS jumped out, painted in red with a gold outline. Someone had even added red and gold sparkles, causing the banner to shine in the light of the school foyer.

The big game was in just a few days, and already the school was abuzz. Banners were being hung all over - in the hallways, classrooms, and especially around the front of the school - despite the fact that they would all have to come down for the game.

Dorian smirked as he walked by a banner that had been made just for him. “YOU HAVE A GOALIE, BUT WE HAVE A PRINCE!” Prince. A suitable nickname for the star goalie of the Royals. Everyone loved to say he was the best goalie they’d ever had, and if he was being honest with himself, he kind of was. That said, even he would admit the nickname was a bit much. Some girls came up with it his freshman year, and it stuck ever since.

“They sure love their hockey.”

Dorian looked to his left, pulling his lips back into a smile as Chaol stepped up next to him.

“Can you imagine what would happen if we didn’t win Friday night?” He turned back to the banner, giving Chaol a little nudge with his shoulder.

“Don’t say that too loud,” Chaol chuckled, jokingly glancing around. “Someone will probably eat you alive.”

Dorian couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. Turning away from the banner, he started making his way towards the main doors, Chaol following his every step.

“You nervous for the big game?” He asked Chaol, once they were out in the blinding sun.

“Nah.” Chaol gave a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s just like any other game. Everyone's just freaking out because it’s the first one of the year.”

“I think you’re the least enthusiastic hockey player ever,” Dorian teased. He bumped Chaol’s shoulder with his own as they walked down the front steps of the school.

“I prefer the term realistic.” Chaol’s lips pulled up in a small smirk, his eyes squinting in the sunlight.

Dorian chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

Chaol may not care much for the games, but he and Aedion were the team's best defensemen.

They had just reached the bottom of the stairs, making their way towards Dorian's car, when an all too familiar voice called out to him.

“Dorian!”

Turning around, he found Aelin Galathynuis walking towards him. Her unique turquoise-gold eyes glowed in the afternoon light. Golden hair flowed down her shoulders in perfect curls. Her lips were turned up at the corners as she came to a stop before him, book in hand.

They went back, him and Aelin. Back to before they were born, even. The Havilliards and Galathyniuses were two of the longest standing families in town. At some point, their families even became friends. Now, they simply tolerated each other - mainly because of Dorian’s father.

It took a while for Aelin to look at Dorain as anything but a Havilliard. While they were growing up, she and Aedion used to gang up on him. But one night, back when they were younger, they ended up bonding over their favourite books. She must have realized some time around then that he was nothing like his father, because they have been friends ever since. Before Chaol moved to town, Dorian used to escape to the Galathynius home when things got too much at his house.

Chaol was his best friend. But Aelin was his oldest.

“Hey Aelin.” Dorian turned completely around to face the blonde, a friendly smile still on his face.

“Hey!” Her smile was dazzling. However, it became more forced when she looked over at Chaol. “Chaol.”

A simple nod of his head was all Chaol gave her.

The tension around them suddenly became so thick, Dorian felt like he was choking on it. Thankfully, Aelin cleared her throat before turning her gaze back to Dorain.

“I saw you walk out of the school and wanted to give you back your book,” She held out the book in her hands - his copy of A Dance With Dragons. “Sorry it took so long to get it back to you.”

“No worries.” He reached out, accepting the book from her. “It’s not like it’s the shortest book out there.”

“You can say that again,” Aelin said. “But damn, it was good.”

Dorian laughed, smiling. But the smile slowly slipped off of his face in the awkward silence.

“So, uh, you excited for the big game Friday?” Aelin asked suddenly, her eyes shifting to Chaol for a moment before returning to Dorian.

“Pretty excited,” Dorian answered for both of them. Even though they all knew Chaol wasn’t that excited. “I just can’t wait to play an actual game again. You?”

“Of course,” Aelin nodded, a smirk pulling on the corners of her lips. “I’m a big hockey fan.”

“Oh, I know,” Dorian could help but chuckle. “I don’t think you missed a single game last year.”

“What can I say? The rink’s my home.” She gave a lazy shrug, smile growing. “And with that said, I better get going. I have practice at 3:30.”

Dorian nodded, smiling.

“See you later,” he called, as Aelin turned and walked away, sending a wave over her shoulder.

He waited, then when he was sure Aelin was out of earshot, he turned to Chaol with a pointed look.

“What?” Chaol raised an eyebrow.

“You could have at least said hi or something,” Dorian rolled his eyes. “Instead of standing here like your tongue was cut off.”

“We haven’t talked since this summer,” Chaol shrugged as they started making their way to the car. “And I’m not really in the mood to start.”

Dorian couldn't help but sigh as they weaved in and out of cars and people.

“You’re my friend. And I know I’ve said this a million times, but dude, it’s been months.” He groaned in frustration. “I know you two dated for six months or something, but don’t you think it’s time you forgave and forgot?”

“I told her I loved her and she replied by jumping on a plane and leaving for the summer. Without saying it back.” Chaol’s gaze turned heated as he glared over at Dorian. “It’s not exactly easy to forgive and forget that.”

“To be fair, you guys were already broken up when you told her you loved her and she left.” Dorian pointed out.

“Whose side are you on?”

“I’m not picking a side! I’m just saying. Besides, weren’t you with Nesryn by the end of the summer anyways?” Dorian pulled out his keys as their approached his car. “What happened to her?”

“Nothing happened to her,” Chaol shrugged. “We weren’t together. It was just…”

“You can say sex, Chaol.” Dorian rolled his eyes. “It was just sex.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

Dorian couldn't help but throw Chaol a smirk as he unlocked the car doors. “That’s Prince Pain in the Ass, to you.”

Chaol simply gave him the finger over the hood of the car, and Dorian couldn't help but laugh.

“Get in, dick.” Dorian said, climbing in the car himself.

“Not a very nice thing to say to the person who has to defend you Friday night.” Chaol shot back with a small smile on his lips, also getting in the car.

“You fuck up Friday night and you’ll have the whole school on your ass.” Dorian gave Chaol a smug look before starting up the car. “Hey, maybe Nesryn will be at the big party after the game. The you guys can have - wait for it - sex.”

“Yeah,” Chaol rolled down his window, resting his arm outside as Dorian backed out. “And maybe Manon will be there too,” Chaol teased.

“You can be friends with girls without having sex with them, you know.”

“Well then. Looks like only one of us has the possibility of getting laid Friday night,” Chaol glanced over at him, a smug look on his face.

“I hate you, Westfall.”

“Sure you do, Havilliard.” Chaol waved him off, turning to look out the window.

Dorian rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face. A quiet laugh left his lips as he turned up the radio, and pulled out of the school parking lot.

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

Her legs were burning.

Her thighs were on fire. Despite the cold arena, she was sweating. A few smaller pieces of hair had fallen out of her long pony tail. She long ago got rid of her sweater. Now she was just in a simple black tank with her leggings and leg warmers. If she could take off more layers, she probably would.

But she kept going, kept pushing on.

She needed to land this jump.

She needed to land the triple lutz double toe loop.

Fighting through the aches and pains, Aelin skated faster. She picked up speed before turning backwards. Taking a deep breath in through her nose, she set up the jump. She stuck her right leg behind, setting up her arms, before putting her toepick in the ice.

Then she was flying.

She pushed off her toe, tucking everything in tight as she spun through the air. It all happened so fast, she didn’t have enough time to so much as register the wind blowing past her. Suddenly, she was back on the ice, leg stuck behind her once again before re-entering the air. When she landed this time, she held it. She felt her leg wobble slightly, but kept her arms and leg out, with her chin held high.

“Good.” Weylan Darrow nodded his head. His arms were clasped behind him as he spoke. “The landing needs work. And the take off for the toe loop is sloppy. But good.”

Aelin skated towards her Uncle and coach, nodding her head. She kept her hands on her hips, trying to catch her breath. They skated towards the boards, where Orlon was waiting with Nehemia, who was already gulping down water.

Orlon and Weylan coached together. They were a pair - they always were, ever since Aelin could remember. They were also the head coaches at the Rifthold Royals Figure Skating Club. But, they never worked on the same skater together. They would take turns. Aelin would practice with Orlon first then Weylan. Most people thought this was silly, stupid. But Aelin loved it. Weylan helped her with jumps while Orlon worked on spins and footwork. And while Aeiln was with one Uncle, Nehemia was with the other.

They weren’t usually Nehemia’s coaches. But her last coach up and left the club one day, randomly. Leaving Nehemia with no one. So, Orlon and Weylan took her in.

Weylan picked up his binder off the broads, flipping through the pages as Aelin greedily drank her water.

“We’re adding a triple lutz-triple toe to her routine,” He said to Orlon, nodding his head in Aelin’s direction.

Aelin all but choked on her water as Orlon raised an eyebrow in question at his partner.

“But she hasn’t done a triple lutz-triple toe yet,” Orlon said. “She hasn’t even been landing her triple lutz-double toe consistently yet. She barely pulled it off at Regionals a few weeks ago.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Uncle Orlon.” She mumbled under her breath. But he heard her still, casting her a sharp gaze before turning back to Weylan.

“She will,” Weylan didn’t so much as look up as he continued to write in the binder. “We’ll make it her opening jump. Open with a bang.”

“Regionals are just a month away, Weylan,” Orlon sighed.

Looking up finally, Weylan raised an eyebrow at his husband before turning to Aelin.

“Think you can land this jump before Sectionals?”

Her gaze shifted from Weylan, to Orlon, then to Nehemia - who was looking at her with a raised eyebrow and slightly concerned look - before going back to Weylan.

She couldn't keep the smile off of her lips or the excitement out of her eyes as she spoke.

“Yes, Coach Weylan.”

It was always Coach Weylan on the ice, and Uncle Weylan outside the rink. Aelin often wondered, if she hadn’t been calling him Uncle her whole life, whether or not he’d make her call him coach all the time.

Weylan’s look matched her own as he closed the binder.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll get to work on them tomorrow,” He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “You girls have 5 minutes left on the ice, make the most of it.”

With one last glance their way, Weylan picked up his things and headed off the ice. Orlon stayed behind for a moment, shaking his head slightly. He skated past Aelin, stopping to place a kiss on her cheek, before following after Weylan.

Nehemia let out a low whistle once they were alone.

“A triple-triple combo,” Her brows were pulled together slightly as she studied Aelin. “You sure about this?”

Aelin couldn't help but roll her eyes, a smile pulling at her lips. “Of course. I have a month to practice it. Besides, with your speed and crazy spins, I’m gonna need this combo in order to kick your ass.”

“They are pretty good.”

“Wow,” Aelin let out a light laugh. “You have been hanging out with me too much.”

Nehemia simply laughed in reply as the sound of skates coming to a stop next to Aelin filled the air.

“Holy shit, Aelin.” The grin on Lysandra’s face was blinding as she spoke. “You should have seen Kaltain’s face when you landed that last jump. She was pissed.”

Looking over Lysandra’s shoulder, Aelin found Coach Clarisse - Lysandra’s coach - finishing up with her last skater, Archer Finn. And farther down the rink, Coach Perrington was just making his way off the ice. Kaltain stood by the boards, arms crossed over her chest as she glared at Aelin. When their gazes meet, Kaltain stuck her nose further in the air before grabbing her water bottle and skating off the ice.

“Of course she’s pissed,” Nehemia spoke up. “She spent all summer practicing and still has trouble with her triple flip. And yet, Aelin takes the summer off and now has a triple-triple combo in her routine.”

Lysandra’s wide eyed gaze cut to Aelin. “You’re adding a triple-triple to your program?”

“Don’t get too excited,” she grinned. But even Aelin couldn't hide her excitement as she spoke. “I haven’t actually done the jump yet. But as of now, if I can do it, it’s in the routine.”

Lysandra’s gaze stayed on her for a moment before cutting to Nehemia. Aelin watched the two with a raised eyebrow, about to say something. But not a beat later, Lysandra turned back to her, lips turning up in the corners.

“I don’t even know why Nehemia and I are competing this year,” She rolled her eyes in good nature. “You’re a shoe-in for Nationals.”

“I need to make it past Sentinels first, Lys.” Aelin laughed. “I may not even make it to Nationals.”

“Listen to her,” Lysandra leaned against the board, “trying to make us little folk feel better.”

“You placed 1st at Regionals, Aelin.” Nehemia pointed out with a laugh. “Of course you’ll get top 4 at Sectionals to move to Nationals.”

“You guys make it so hard to be humble.” Aelin teased, flicking her ponytail over shoulder.

“Is this what you skaters do all day?”

The sound of Aedion’s voice flooding across the ice caused Aelin to turn around as Nehemia rolled her eyes and Lysandra raised an eyebrow.

“He better be careful with what he says next,” she smirked. “I have great power over him right now.”

Aelin placed one hand on her hip as she took in the boys before her. The whole hockey team was there, standing by the boards. Aedion was front and center, a giant smirk plastered on his lips.

“And they call figure skating a sport,” he yelled across to them, causing Aelin to raise an eyebrow.

Nehemia sighed from behind her. “He’s asking for it, isn’t he?”

“He is so not getting any later.” Lysandra added.

But Aelin kept her gaze locked with Aedion’s. There was a daring look in his eyes. He was challenging her. And she never backed down from a challenge. He knew that.

With a smirk slowly gracing her lips, Aelin took off. She was aware of Nehemia calling out to her while Lysandra bit out a “serves him right,” but she didn’t look back.

She skated down and around the bottom of the ice before coming up the middle. The sound of the zamboni starting up was their signal to get off the ice, but Aelin didn’t listen to it.

She could feel everyone's eyes on her as she set up her jump. It did nothing to unnerve her - she lived for this.

Kicking her foot out in front of her, Aelin quickly turned backwards. She pushed off her toe, landing her triple flip flawlessly. And then, just to show off some more, she casually stuck a double loop on the end.

There were shouts, a few catcalls, and claps. She could hear Nehemia and Lysandra laughing behind her. There was a giant grin on her face as she spun around to face the boys, giving them a little curtsy.

Then her eyes clashed with Rowan’s.

He was the only one not reacting - just standing there. Even Lorcan was rolling his eyes and grumbling under his breath. But Rowan was doing nothing.

When he met her gaze, his lips thinned. His eyes had turned hard as he glared at her slightly. Annoyance was written all over his face.

The smugness Aelin felt a moment ago vanished. Anger took its place as she glared right back at him.

She didn't know what his problem was, why he hated her so much, but it was pissing her off. He didn’t even know her. And she was getting sick of him looking at her with nothing but hatred every time their paths crossed.

She held Rowan’s gaze for another moment, her lips pressed together and brows narrowed. Then, she turned on her blade and skated back to the boards to grab her sweater. The whole time, there was a look of irritation covering her features.

If he wanted to hate her, fine. She’d let him. But she didn’t care how hot or attractive he was, she was going to make his life hell.

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

Lysandra should have been in heaven.

She was pressed against her bed, Aedion’s muscular and shirtless frame pushing down on her. A large hand gripped her waist, lazily moving up and down her sides. The movement caused her shirt to ride up further and further while her fingers wrapped themselves in his long hair. His mouth - oh, that damn wicked mouth of his. He placed a heated kiss on her lips, biting and sucking her bottom lip before trailing kisses along her jaw, down her neck, nipping her skin as he went - yeah, she definitely should have been in heaven.

To be fair, part of her was. She still couldn't stop the soft moan that left her lips, her hips arching against him as Aedion lightly nipped and suck the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. He replied with his own growl, deep in his throat. Running one hand down her side, over her hip, he stopped on her thigh, hitching it up around his waist. His lips met hers again as his hands found their way under her shirt, slowly creeping their way up, his touch as light as feathers on her skin. Lysandra wanted nothing more than to melt into that touch.

But she couldn't. She wasn’t fully there, in the moment.

And Aedion noticed.

“Come back to me,” He breathed against her lips, his fingers stopping to draw lazy shapes just under her breasts.

God, she wished she could. But it wasn’t happening.

With a sigh, Lysandra pulled back. She sat up, back against her headboard as Aedion rolled off her with a groan.

“Do you think Aelin’s okay?” She asked after a moment.

With another groan, Aedion threw an arm over his forehead as he stared up at the ceiling.

“You’re seriously thinking about my cousin right now?”

“Shut up,” Lysandra’s sharp gaze cut to Aedion as she smacked his shoulder. “I’m being serious right now.”

There was a beat of silence before Aedion let out a sigh. Lysandra watched as he sat up, sliding back until he, too, was resting against the headboard.

“She seems fine, I guess.” He said, a slight look of confusion on his face. “She seemed fine to me at lunch and-”

“No,” Lysandra shook her head. “I mean, is she okay? You know, after the summer and everything that’s happened.”

The confusion on Aedion’s face faded and understanding took over.

“I…” He paused, taking a moment to pick his words carefully. “I honestly don’t know.”

“I thought you two told each other everything?”

“We do. For the most part,” He explained. “But Aelin… she likes to wear a mask. She doesn’t let people see how badly she’s hurting. And with everything that happened with Sam… I think there's a lot she's not showing or telling.”

All Lysandra could do was nod as she bit her lip. She knew what Aedion was saying was true. Aelin did wear a mask a lot of the time. She hid behind smiles and jokes, even when she didn’t have to. Just the thought of her best friend silently suffering caused her heart to ache.

“She’ll never be like she was before.”

Aedion’s voice was so soft, so gentle. The unspoken words hanging between them.

Before Sam.

Running a hand through his hair, Aedion let out a loose breath.

“Why do you ask, anyways? Did something happen?”

Taking in a deep breath through her nose, Lysandra let her head fall back against the wooden headboard.

“Coach Weylan wanted to add a triple-triple to her program today. And she let him.” She explained, and when Aedion sent her a confused look, she continued. “Aelin’s a perfectionist, you know this. She wouldn’t dare agree to add a jump to her program unless she could land it flawlessly. That’s why she works so hard and how she got where she is now. But,” Lysandra sat up straighter, meeting Aedion’s intense stare. “She’s never even tried this jump before. And she let him add it, without a second thought. That’s… that’s not Aelin.”

Aedion had no response to this, and Lysandra knew it was because he knew every word she said was true.

“She does something like this, and I’m reminded of how much she’s changed.” She continued. “But then she goes and shows off for the hockey team, and she’s old Aelin again.”

“She’s lost, that’s all. We just need to help her find herself again.” Aedion wrapped an arm around Lysandra’s shoulders. He pulled her close, placing a kiss on her temple. “Besides, did you see that glare she gave Rowan at the end? That was definitely an Aelin glare.”

This caught Lysandra’s attention.

“Rowan?” She sat up, turning to face Aedion. “As in your boyfriend Rowan? New guy Rowan?”

He simply rolled his eyes at her comment.

“I’m pretty sure those two have only met once. But oh man, the hatred basically poured off them.” He chuckled. “If he wasn’t so tough I’d be worried. Being on the receiving end of Aelin’s hate is not fun.” A cocky smirk started to form on his face. “Not that I’d know. But you might.”

Lysandra honestly had stopped listening at that point. She was too intrigued at the thought of Aelin and Rowan. She never met the boy before, but from what she heard he was… on the more serious side. Tough, collected. He had a small group of friends and, most importantly, didn’t take anyone's bullshit.

Almost the opposite of Aelin.

A smile slowly started to spread on her lips.

“What are you thinking?” Aedion raised an eyebrow at the look on her face.

“Nothing,” She replied, with a slight shake of her head.

It could work. Rowan and Aelin, that is. As friends or more, she wasn’t really sure yet. She’d put more thought into it later. Because she now felt lighter. She was still worried about Aelin, but she was glad she‘d talked to Aedion about it. She didn't feel so bogged down anymore. Her eyes also found their way to his shirtless torso. So yeah, she was done thinking for the night.

“I’m going to shower,” She said suddenly, jumping off the bed.

She only made it a few steps before turning back around. Aedion was making himself comfortable on the bed before reaching for his phone.

With a smirk slowly pulling at the corners of her lips, Lysandra reached down and pulled off her shirt. She flicked it at Aedion, causing his head to snap in her direction.

“You’re coming.” Her stomach tightened as Aedion’s heated gaze devoured her body.

She turned on her heel, and reached behind her back, unclasping her bra. She let it fall to the floor as she continued on her way. The smirk on her face grew as she heard the bed creak, as Aedion jumped up.

His voice washed over her - a sensual purr. “Yes ma’am.”

646 notes · View notes

nalgenewhore · 5 years ago

Text

A rogue storm had her presumed dead and stranded on the red planet. Left on her own, astronaut Aelin Galathynius has four years to make it to the next drop-site, some two thousand miles. Armed with her smarts and dwindling supplies, Aelin attempts to survive on an inhospitable planet, when the nearest help is only millions of miles away.

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“It just can’t be. Have you double checked?”

Weylan Darrow’s disapproving face stared at Nox through the computer screen, Asterin sitting next to him with a blank expression.

“Yes, sir. Everyone in SatCon and the RPL checked them,” he replied, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “See, the images show both the rovers moving and the solar panels being cleaned. Modifications have been made to—”

“Modifications? What modifications?”

Sartaq Dalavtchai, the director of the Rocket Propulsion Lab, held up an image, “Galathynius took the battery off the second rover and attached it to the first, to double its power…”

Asterin spoke, finishing his sentence, “She’s trying to travel to the Mistward crater for The Crone.”

“Exactly, Asterin, or that’s what we believe is happening.”

“But the rover will only be able to travel a total of one-hundred kilometres and Mistward is… two-thousand at least. Not to mention, she’ll need to use the heater during the nights.”

Sartaq nodded, “You’re correct. Which is why we believe she is planning to attach the solar panels and…” he and Nox shared a look; they wouldn’t be happy to find out what she’d dug up.

“And?” Weylan prompted, wariness in his eyes. “And what?”

“Sir, she dug up the RTG.”

Asterin’s otherworldly eyes – the truest black flecked with brilliant gold – widened, “The plutonium battery?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She sat back in her chair, thinking aloud, “Well, it would be able to fully power the rover without needing to be charged.” As well as powering a nuclear bomb, but Asterin kept that to herself.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“She’s what?” Manon barked, glaring through the computer at Nox, as if he had grossly offended her. “Who even is this, where’s the director of SatCon?”

Asterin calmed her cousin, “Stop being a dick, Manon, this is Nox Owens, he’s a satellite planner and the one who found out Aelin’s still alive.” She addressed Nox next with a cheeky grin, “Don’t worry about her, she hasn’t drunk the blood of a virgin for a while, she’s a little grouchy.”

Nox laughed, still terrified of the glaring woman, and Weylan shook his head from the opposite side of the table as Manon, as if thinking, Why did I hire so many witches?

“Please, continue, Nox,” Gavriel said, “where’s Aelin going?”

“Well, we’re not sure, sir. We believe she’s testing out her modifications on the rovers. She drives for thirteen hours, stops, and returns. We think the stops are to charge the batteries.”

Weylan frowned, he seemed to do that a lot. “But you said that she attached the solar cells to the top. Why would she need to re-charge and what about the RTG?”

Sartaq waved to introduce himself, “I can answer that. The solar cells are extremely delicate and the rover is designed to cross all sorts of rough terrain so she can’t have the solar cells out all the time because the risk of breaking them is higher. As for the generator,” he paused, rubbing his fingers over his jaw, “it’s good for spacecrafts but if it ruptures around humans… no more humans. Which is why she isn’t completely relying on it. And why we buried it, with a flag so we would know not to touch it.”

The Orynth team all nodded thoughtfully and Weylan asked, “Sartaq, what’s the fastest you can get a food probe ready?”

“Hmm,” the gears in his mind circled and he narrowed his eyes, “with the planetary positioning… nine months. We’ll need six months to build it in the first place—”

“Three months. Get it done.” Weylan held up his hand when Sartaq startled, looking to protest, “You’re going to say it can’t be done and I’ll give some speech about the immeasurable capabilities of the RPL team and you’ll say something like the overtime alone will be a nightmare.”

“The overtime alone will be a nightmare,” the harried rocket scientist mumbled, looking behind the camera at the rest of his team who were all shaking their heads and holding up a sign that read FUCK NO!!!

“Get it started, I’ll find you the money.”

Manon breathed out, trying to keep her anger in check, “It’s time to tell the crew.”

“Manon,” her boss started, his voice conveying his emotions on the topic they’d already discussed many, many times. “We’ve talked about this.”

“No, you talked about this. But I’m the crew director, I decide what’s best for the crew. They deserve to know,” she pressed, balling her hands into fists, her iron nails flashing for a second.

Gavriel shook his head, “I agree with Weylan, Manon. They need to concentrate on getting home safe.”

“Fuck all of you,” spat Manon, murder in her eyes. “Fuck all of you.”

“When we have a rescue plan, we’ll tell them. Until then, it’s useless. Sartaq has three months to get it done, be patient.”

“We’ll do our best,” Sartaq said, his face pale.

Manon turned her gaze on him, cocking her head to the side, “Aelin dies if you don’t.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Rowan couldn’t sleep.

Hadn’t been able to in the month following Aelin’s death.

He wanted more time. Not a lot, just five minutes, just enough to tell her he loved her with all that he was and would ever be.

There had always been some unspoken thing between them, it was impossible to stay away.

They’d loathed each other at the start.

Oh, she drove him crazy.

She seemed to know everything about everything and beat him to the first spot in their classes in the space program, utterly ruthless. At least, when Elide beat the two of them, she was tactful and humble, but Aelin…

She knew just how smart she was and refused to downplay it. Despite loathing her, it was always something he subconsciously admired of her.

She was a wildfire, unapologetic with her quest to get what she wanted, accepting nothing but the best of herself.

With her corn-silk hair and electric blue eyes, it was easy to peg her as a princess – a brat, only here on Daddy’s money.

Gods, he was an ass. It wasn’t until she had fled the dorms, crying after he’d insulted her by calling her a dumb blonde, looking for her Mrs. degree, and told her that she didn’t deserve to be here like the rest of them, and the verbal beating he’d received from Elide (arguably the most terrifying experience of his life – especially when Nesryn was forced to physically restrain the five-foot woman) that he’d realized how badly he’d fucked up.

Even Lorcan gave him a disgusted look and slapped him upside the head before Rowan chased after her and begged for forgiveness.

After… they weren’t friends but they weren’t at each other’s throats all the time either.

Everything had changed the night she’d stumbled into his room, high after smoking with Elide and Nesryn – a birthday tradition he was told – and he fell. Harder than he’d thought possible, irrevocably and irretrievably in love with her.

Rowan kept his eyes at the kitchen table, picking at his fingernails, refusing to look up as Fenrys and Lorcan sat down.

They stayed silent and for that, he was grateful. There were no words to say and so they sat, quiet until Rowan was ready.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Gavriel was absolutely exhausted.

It had been a long day, after flying to Perranth from Orynth and meeting with Nox, who he was currently sitting next to as they watched the satellites.

He could feel his eyes drooping shut. Slapping his cheek, a couple times, and draining the rest of his coffee, he sat up and tapped the screen, “Why is there a jump here?”

“Oh, because of how the orbits line up, there’s a thirteen-minute gap every thirty hours,” Nox explained, pushing his glasses onto the top of his head and rubbing his eyes.

“Where is she going,” Gavriel wondered, tracking the movement of the rover through every frame, “there’s out there except for…” he sat up straight, his tawny eyes wide. “I need a map.” With that, he was gone, making his way out of Satellite Control as Nox scrambled to his feet and hurried after him, not sure what was happening.

They sped-walked down a hallway until the cat-like man stopped abruptly and took down a framed image of the Anascaul crater, where the hab was located, and took a marker from his pocket as someone said, “Hey, man, you can’t just do that—”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. Nox,” he addressed the younger man next to him, Nox’s mind still reeling, “what are the hab’s coordinates?”

He rattled them off and Gavriel marked them on the glass protecting the picture, drawing another mark halfway across the picture, in the opposite direction of the Mistward crater. He nodded to himself, “Alright. I know where she’s going. Where’s Sartaq?”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Nox still had absolutely no idea what was happening as he trailed after Gavriel and Sartaq through the lab. The dark-haired man said to Gavriel, “I got everyone who was here in ’03, which is when the probe went silent. I’d like to point out that it lasted three times longer—”

“Of course, Sartaq. No one is criticizing the RPL’s work, you’ve done an amazing job.” He shook hands with the three scientists, Malakai Scéalaí, Brulo Vojnik, and Philippa Bisset. “So, I’ll just get right to it. What’s the likelihood of Aelin getting it working again?”

Philippa answered him, “It’s hard to say, really. When we lost contact, we lost a data bank, so we were never able to figure out how it lasted as long as it did and why it stopped working.” She indicated the covered machinery behind him, “We have the replica all ready for you.”

Gavriel turned around and they pulled the tarp off to reveal the original Farnor probe – The Lord of The North.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Aelin had been sitting outside the hab for an hour. She was so ready to just give up, but every time she thought about throwing a fit and stomping inside, Lorcan’s face appeared and his voice filled her head, insulting her and threatening her with gross bodily harm if she went the ‘pussy-ass-bitch’ route and gave up. Aelin had to stop herself from answering to him, not ready to be that kind of crazy.

She stared at the probe, praying for it to move to point to either one of the signs she’d written and stabbed in the earth after travelling to dig up another TNSB relic.

There were three signs in total, the closest one reading Yes, the middle one: Messages written here. Are you receiving? And the third: No, which was a little redundant because if they didn’t receive, they wouldn’t be able to point to any of the signs, let alone No.

The sun was setting and Aelin could feel herself nodding off, drained after her day and the emotional toll. Gods, I just want to go home, she prayed, take me home, please. She hadn’t let herself cry and it seemed she had put it off too much to control when her eyes grew wet and soon enough, tears were rolling down her cheeks.

A whirring noise interrupted her and she opened her eyes, her heart in her throat as the camera spun to… the left. Yes, they were receiving.

Aelin almost didn’t believe it and stood on surprisingly strong legs before taking one step and then another, but when the probe stayed on the ‘yes’ sign, she threw her arms up and roared of her victory to the high heavens, her voice breaking as the tears came faster and faster.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“So, here’s the thing,” Aelin addressed the camera once again, eating oatmeal for dinner, and potatoes. She’d always loved oatmeal, loved to load it up with brown sugar and cream aplenty, to the confusion of every person she’d ever met. “We have to have serious astrophysical engineering conversations with a still frame camera that has a thirty-two-minute round trip communication time. Luckily,” she ate a bite, talking with her mouth full, “the camera does spin three-sixty so I can use an alphabet.”

She stood and walked her empty bowl over to the sink, scraping it clean, “It just can’t be ours because with twenty-six characters plus a question card gives me a twelve-degree arc, which is too narrow, we’d never know what it’s pointing at. Which means,” she spun, pointing her spoon at the camera, “hexadecimals to the rescue!”

She elaborated as she dragged Nesryn’s box into the frame, “Only sixteen characters gives me enough room and I’m hoping the geeks at RPL can send me some code so that the rover’s computer can communicate with TNSB. Fingers crossed.”

Sitting down, she held up a TSCII – Terrasen Standard Code for Information Interchange – table, “I figured one of you had to have an old TSCII table lying around and, ladies and gents, I give you super nerd: Nesryn Faliq. Mala above, Nes, you’re such a computer geek.”

The code had been developed from telegraph code and eventually formatted for the very first telephones and then evolving to computers. It used the decimal numbers – 0,1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 – and six extra symbols, which were transmitted in binary code to be converted by computers.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

It had been three days since the probe first made contact with TNSB and Aelin had been right, the folks at RPL sent her instructions on how to hack the rover’s computer and with just a smidgen of code, they could now communicate by using the Lord of The North’s broadcasting system.

She’d told them what was happening and what had happened during the storm, reinforcing that it was not the crew’s fault.

Text appeared on the screen.

TNSB: Aelin, this is Gavriel Aryeh

TNSB: We’ve been watching you on the satellites for a while now, amazing job modifying the rovers and growing crops, we’re all rooting for you

LTN: I should hope you all want me to survive, Aelin replied, laughing to herself. Giddiness had taken over every emotion since they’d made contact.

TNSB: RPL is putting together a supply mission to keep you fed until The Crone

LTN: Glad to hear it, really excited about not dying

LTN: How’d the crew take it when they found out I was alive?

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: well that was a fun place to end on! till next time lovies and as always, let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list!

@mythicaitt @kandasboi @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @that-other-pineapple @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival @faerie-queen-fireheart @chemicha @rowaelin-cressworth @mynewdreamwasyou @candid-confetti @bat-wing-rhys @the-reading-obsessed-stitchbear @feyrethedarklady @booklover41802 @rowaelinforeverworld @jamesxdaisy @julemmaes @hellas-himself

122 notes · View notes

sparkleywonderful · 8 years ago

Text

Kingsflame

Darrow had awoken to a commotion outside. He swore to the gods he would exile the spoil brat if he had too, she was not the symbol Terrasen needed. He dressed and met Ren, Murtaugh and the young girl for breakfast.

He sat down opposite of Murtaugh, “what is the commotion?”

Murtaugh smiled at him, not the forced smile he had become accustom to over the last decade. No this was a smile of hope, of triumph, “it seems that kingsflame bloomed last night in the same place our princess swore her blood oaths to us.”

He could feel the blood draining from his face as he whispered, “impossible.”

Murtaugh looked at him, “the locals are also whispering of a white stag being seen in the woods last night, a stag with an immortal glow. It seems, Weylan that you have turned away from our traditions, from the magic that fuels our sacred symbols. It seems that the Lord of the North is sending us a message that the Heir of Brannon has returned, regardless if we formally claim her has our Queen.”

Before he could respond, his messenger appeared before them breathless. They stared at him while he caught his breath, waiting to hear the news.

“They took the temple, they took the Temple of the Stone in less than twenty minutes.”

He needed to know, “Who?”

The messenger took another deep breath, “Aelin, Aedion and the girl from yesterday.”

It was his turn to take a deep breath, it has been a message to him and to Adarlan, the Queen of Terrasen has returned.

The boy continued, “She cleansed the temple with blue flame and there are reports that kingsflame bloomed near the sacred rock.”

He nodded at the boy, a clear dismissal, before he turned to Murtaugh and Ren. “I’m riding for Ilium, they cleansed it, and the least we can do is hold it from Adarlanian trash from reoccupying it. You are welcome to join me.”

Murtaugh was silent for a moment, “Take Ren, I will head to Orynth and begin calling for aid.”

- - - - - - -

It had been a week since the kingsflame bloomed in that crossroads town and a week since she had cleared Ilium of the Adarlanian trash that used their sacred temple as their barracks.

He stared at the Orlon’s kingsflame, since that fateful night, he had always carried it with him. It had bloomed for his King, his love. Everything he has done has been for him. He had kept as much of Terrasen in as much peace as he could for the last ten years. What would his king think of him now?

He sat on the sacred rock, at first it unnerved him, but less than sitting on the kingsflame that seemed to have bloomed everywhere. The Lord of the North was giving his kingdom a very clear message. If only, if only he had given the message before he had turned her away, calling her a spoiled brat.

With shame in his heart he returned to the temple’s archives, seeing if he could find anything to help them win this war against the darkness of Morath.

“Lord Darrow.” He looked up from the bloom that Orlon had pressed in glass to stare at Ren, the boy’s scars were horrible, the boy would have been very handsome if not for the scars. It was his voice that shook him, something was different, and the tone put him on edge.

With an annoyance in his tone, he barked, “what?”

As if in shock the boy breathed, “an armada comes our way.”

They could fight foot soldiers, but an armada, they had not a chance to stand against an armada, “how large?”

“The biggest I have ever seen.”

Shit. Ren had seen the majority of Adarlan’s armada and this was larger. Darrow looked at Ren. He had sent their best hope of surviving an armada away. Instead of welcoming her with open arms, all of them except Murtaugh had turned their backs on her. He had insulted her. He had insulted her court. He had called her bloodsworn a traitor. He had implied that Aedion was a coward. Called the Lady a whore. They deserved their fate. He deserved this fate.

He took a deep breath, “evacuate the city.”

Ren looked at him confused, “no, you do not understand, the ships flags are from . . . Braircliff, The Silent Assassins, Skull’s Bay, The House of Whitethorn and – “

As if the boy himself could not believe it, a breath above a whisper, “and, Wendyln.”

He ran to the shore. He sucked in a breath and fell to his knees at the sight of the armada. Her promise echoed through his mind.

To call in old debts and promises. To raise an army of assassins and thieves and exiles and commoners. To finish what was started long, long ago.

She had planned this, she had planned for aid, while he was planning with the other Lords of Terrasen to refuse her claim as queen, she planned to protect Terrasen. An armada from The Western Wastes would have taken months, not a week to appear. Wendlyn was a two week journey in fair waters, she would have had to call for their aid at least a month prior. The Silent Assassins would have taken months to call.

Ren cleared his throat, “The last time I spoke to her, I scorned her from walking away. It appears we were both mistaken. She has spent the last ten years fighting for her kingdom under the mask of Adarlan’s Assassin. She had fought for us the only way she could.”

He swallowed, “I called her a spoiled brat and implied she was a whore. I implied that the only way she could help us was through marriage or her assassin’s skills.”

He took a breath, “We will fight, we will fight for our Queen, we will fight for Terrasan.”

He would make his king, his love proud.

#TOG #TOG6 #throne of glass #empire of storms #aedion ashryver #aelin ashryver #rowan whitethorn #Waylen darrow #ren allsbrook #SparkleyWonderful

102 notes · View notes

usuallypleasantprince · 7 years ago

Text

Read Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass #5)(8) online free by Sarah J. Maas

Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass #5)(8) Author: Sarah J. Maas

“Court?” Lord Darrow raised his silver brows. Then he slowly raked his stare over Lysandra, then Aedion, and finally Rowan. Ren was gaping at them all, something like longing—and dismay—on his face. “This is what you consider a court?”

“Obviously, the court will be expanded once we’re in Orynth—”

“And for that matter, I do not see how there can even be a court, as you are not yet queen.”

She kept her chin high. “I’m not sure I catch your meaning.”

Darrow sipped from his tankard of ale. The plunk as he set it down echoed through the room. Beside him, Murtaugh had gone still as death. “Any ruler of Terrasen must be approved by the ruling families of each territory.”

Ice, cold and ancient, cracked through her veins. Aelin wished she could blame it on the thing hanging from her neck.

“Are you telling me,” she said too quietly, fire flickering in her gut, dancing along her tongue, “that even though I am the last living Galathynius, my throne does not yet belong to me?”

She felt Rowan’s attention fix upon her face, but she didn’t look away from Lord Darrow.

“I am telling you, Princess, that while you might be the last living direct descendant of Brannon, there are other possibilities, other directions to go in, should you be deemed unfit.”

“Weylan, please,” Murtaugh cut in. “We did not accept the offer to meet for this. It was to discuss rebuilding, to help... Read online: Read Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass #5)(8) online free by Sarah J. Maas

0 notes

darrowstan · 7 years ago

Text

i know sj/m is gonna do my boy darrow dirty come koa but tbh anything aside from him surviving, banishing alien, and maintaining his just and rightful rule over terrasin is non-canon now i don't make the rules

#anti sjm #anti tog #anti Aelin #weylan Darrow

29 notes · View notes

burningthegallows · 9 years ago

Quote

Where do you think you’re going?” “To call in old debts and promises. To raise an army of assassins and thieves and exiles and commoners. To finish what was started long, long ago.

eos

#eos #eos spoilers #aelin galathynius #weylan darrow #tog #HELLS YAES

2 notes · View notes

nalgenewhore · 5 years ago

Text

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The young man – boy, really – was sleeping on the love seat in his office, snoring ever so slightly.

Vaughan Kuāutli popped his head in the open door and rapped his knuckles against the doorframe, “Luca?” The sleeping boy simply snored and smacked his lips together. Vaughan sighed and said louder, “Luca, wake up. RPL needs the probe courses.”

Luca sprang up, his mop of unruly hair facing every which way. “Oh, hey, Vaughan.” He stumbled to his feet, yawning as he made his way to his desk and computer, where graphics of the course projection were spinning around. He grabbed an opened can of some energy drink and chugged the rest, crushing the can in his hand and tossing it into the wastebasket. He missed.

Vaughan didn’t blink an eye, knowing this was normal behaviour for the son of Malakai Scéalaí. Despite the fact that he was TNSB legacy, Luca had worked harder than anyone he knew to get here, where he held the position of astrodynamicist. The boy was near genius status. “I know we’re coming at this from the wrong way, but we can’t commit to launch dates with these many unknowns.”

Luca waved his hand as he sat down in his wheeled chair, nearly missing it. Why did I let him get a wheeled chair, Vaughan thought. There’s so many things that could go wrong. “It’s fine. All twenty-three models will take four-hundred and four days to reach Farnor. They only slightly vary in thrust duration and fuel requirement is almost identical.”

His boss entered the messy room. Messy might have been an understatement. Vaughan thought that ‘biohazard’ was fitting for Luca’s office/bedroom - he ended up spending the night here more often than not. “Four-hundred and four days. Not a good launch window, huh?” His eyes roved over the calculations.

Luca snorted, “It’s terrible. Like, it’d almost be easier to…” his chestnut-brown eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up behind his floppy fringe.

“Almost easier to what?”

Luca got to his feet slowly, looking as though he’d seen a ghost, “I need more RedBull. And coffee.” Honestly, it was a miracle Luca hadn’t dropped dead from cardiac arrest yet.

“Almost easier to what?” Luca was too lost in his head and scrambled for the door, pushing Vaughan out of the way. Vaughan stared after him, “You do remember that I’m your boss, right?”

The only indication Luca gave that he heard him was a thumbs-up over his head and then he disappeared around the corner.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Am I reading this right, five-hundred million?”

Sartaq nodded, looking like he was about to drop dead right on the carpeted floor of his office. “Yes, sir, that’s correct.”

Weylan’s brows rose, the only indication of his shock and he turned his gaze from the screen to the table in front of him, Manon and Asterin somber on the other side. “And now for the expensive question, where’s your team at?”

“…we’re behind.” Sartaq said, sounded defeated. “If I had fifteen more days, I could get it done.”

“All right. Say I can get you fifteen days, then… what? It’s thirteen to mount the probe?”

The RPL director tilted his head to the side a few times, “It actually only takes three days to mount the probe. I can get that down to two and the other ten are for inspections.”

Weylan drummed his fingers on his briefing folder, contemplating something. “How often do those tests present a problem?”

Everyone froze and Manon asked, her voice almost aghast, “Are you saying we don’t do the inspections?”

“Right now, I’m asking how often they present a problem. Sartaq?”

The exhausted man looked nervous and almost as if he resented saying, “One in twenty, but that’s still grounds for countdown halt. Weylan, we can’t take that chance.”

“If you have a safer way, by all means, tell me. Anybody?” Nobody answered him and he nodded, “Right then. Manon, tell Dr. Towers to stretch Aelin’s rations four more days. She won’t like it, but it’ll get us to fifteen. Cancel the inspections.”

“Sir-“

“It’s on me, Gavriel. Sartaq, you have your two weeks. Get it done.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Aelin was standing by the microwave, watching her plate of food spin around and around until the machine beeped and she hastily grabbed the plate, hissing at the heat as she put it down on the counter. Meatloaf and potatoes. Again.

Grabbing her knife and fork, Aelin cut up the meatloaf, “So. I have to hold out here until the probe arrives with more food. This is what minimal calorie count looks like,” pointing to the meager plate, “standard issue ration.”

She snorted a laugh, “Usually, it’s three of these every day and now… one every three days.” The meatloaf was cut into thirds and she transported two of the pieces onto a separate plate. “This is today’s allotment. Which I get to supplement with potatoes. Which I am beginning to abhor, happy, TNSB? I watched my language. Anyways, I am beginning to loathe these things with the passion of seven billion million burning suns. I’ve been told to do this,” she cut her potato in half and put one of them on the plate with the meatloaf. “You know, I used to like Yrene Towers. Point is, ‘stretch the rations four more days’ is a real tit punch.”

She walked over to the desk, where there lay two white pills. Aelin sat down and crushed the pills with her knife. She looked to the computer camera, her eyes conveying just how done she was, “I ran out of ketchup three days ago.” Moving the crushed powder into a neat circle, she said, “So I’m dipping my potato in Vicodin and no one can stop me.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The energy in Mission Control was electric as they all waited for Manon’s signal. She slipped on her headset, “Mission Control, this is Flight Director Blackbeak. Begin launch status check.” This is where Manon was in her element and it was obvious to everyone around her.

“Roger that, Flight Director,” the Launch Control director answered. “Launch Control test is complete and we are ready.”

“This is Flight. We are a go for launch.”

The timer controller started its countdown, the robotic voice booming through Mission Control. “T-minus 10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…”

Asterin paced behind Manon’s seat, praying as liftoff was announced and the rocket was launched from the holding hull.

The flight was clean and when Manon let go of a held-in breath, the room relaxed, all smiles and happy faces as the rocket flew high. But something changed.

“Flight, this is Guidance Control, we’re getting large shimmy in the tail.”

“No…” she whispered, shaking her head as the rocket began losing guidance and telemetry, absolutely powerless as it exploded right before their eyes.

The probe was gone and Weylan Darrow had just signed Aelin’s death certificate.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Kashin and Hasar Dalavtchai were in her office in Antica, watching the head of TNSB do an interview. The woman spat to her brother, “They forced our brother to skip inspections and now their astronaut is going to die.”

“Perhaps,” Kashin replied, sliding a document her way, “The Rukhin’s booster. We ran the numbers and it has enough fuel for a Farnor injection orbit.”

Hasar, the director of the Southern Continent National Space Administration, looked over the document thoughtfully, flipping through the pages, “And they haven’t approached us, why?”

“They don’t know. Father kept the booster technology classified.” It was one of the reasons Sartaq had left. He believed that all of their knowledge should be public access.

“Hm.” Hasar narrowed her eyes and stood up, walking to her office’s large floor-to-ceiling windows. “If we do nothing… the world will never know we could have helped.”

“Yes.” Kashin hid his satisfied grin. He knew what Hasar was thinking and agreed with her wholeheartedly. “If we give them the booster, we will be effectively cancelling The Rukhin.”

Hasar turned to him, her mind already made up. She was tired of her father’s secrecy. “We keep it between SCNSA and TNSB. An exchange between scientists…”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Yes, we understand.” Manon watched Weylan where he was pacing on the phone, with whom she didn’t know. “Yes. Yes… thank you.”

He hung up the phone, relief flooding his face. Manon sat up from where she had been slouching in his office chair. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Ok, Luca, you need to listen to me,” Vaughan said, serious as he rested his hands on the boy’s shoulders, trying to make him stop shaking. Mala save him, how much caffeine had he ingested? “These people run TNSB, do you understand? You need to be professional. They will not be as easy on you as I am, they don’t understand your thought pattern. And if they ask you to explain, do not, do not, let them know you think they’re stupid, alright?”

Luca nodded, trying to contain his bouncing. “I know, I know. I had some coffee, so I think I’m good to speak to the normies, boss man.”

Vaughan just shook his head and whispered a prayer of protection as he herded the boy into the conference room, where Weylan Darrow, Asterin and Manon Blackbeak, and Gavriel Aryeh were.

Luca tripped over the threshold, sending his papers flying. Vaughan just hung his head and sat down beside Gavriel, “I’d like to introduce Luca Scéalaí, astrodynamicist.”

To his credit, Luca didn’t piss himself as Manon and Asterin helped him gather his papers, their sharp sharp nails shining. Gavriel rose a brow, “Scéalaí?”

“Um, yeah, my dad’s Malakai? He did some rover thing a while ago.” Luca shrugged, as if it was no big deal of one his fathers had built the first craft ever to reach Farnor. With a deep breath, he put a thick folder on the table. “This is it.”

“And what would that be, Luca?” Asterin questioned him, exchanging an amused glance with Manon. To Vaughan, it looked like two predators who found their next meal to be adorable.

“Oh, yeah, duh,” Luca slapped his forehead. “I can get The Lani back to Farnor by day five-sixty-one.”

That had everyone in the room choking and shooting up. “What,” Manon breathed, eyes wide. “How?”

Luca looked around the room, spying a half-empty mug of coffee which happened to be Gavriel’s. He snatched it up and chugged the contents, to the half-horrified audience. “Ok, let’s pretend that this is The Lani and you…” he pointed at Weylan, moving his finger to indicate the man to his feet, “sorry, what’s your name?”

“Weylan. I’m the director of TNSB.”

“Oh, deadass? That’s sick, man, but anyways, you’re Farnor and you,” he pointed at Asterin who eagerly stood, relishing the chaotic way that the meeting was going, “you’re Earth. So, right now The Lani is beginning the month-long de-acceleration to enter into Earth’s orbit, yeah?” He walked the mug towards Asterin, who was shaking with her attempts to control her laughter as he made a rocket noise with his mouth and slowed with every step. Vaughan closed his eyes and groaned quietly. “But what I’m proposing…,” Luca walked faster to Asterin. He froze, looking around for something. Without a care, Luca jogged back to Weylan and plucked a pen out of his breast pocket, hurrying back to Asterin. “This is The Rukhin, alright?”

He bopped the pen off her head, causing Manon to cackle, and dumped it in the mug, “We grab whatever provisions we need and now we’re speeding up, like, nyoom, and we fly around Earth and kinda, I guess, slingshot back to Farnor.” He puttered back to Weylan, making more rocket noises.

Luca hovered the mug over Weylan’s head, “But now we’re going too fast to slow down so we do a flyby.”

“How?”

Vaughan spoke up, “By using The Crone’s FAV.”

Luca snapped his fingers and pointed at his boss, “Yes, that. I did the math. It checks out.”

“Luca?”

“Yeah?” He turned to face Weylan.

“Get out.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea, I need some coffee anyway,” Luca mumbled, leaving his things scattered about the room. “Deuces, dudes and dudettes.”

Weylan turned to Gavriel and Vaughan. “So is he right?”

“Yes, he is,” Vaughan replied. “His math is correct; the boy is a genius. Crazy, space-cadet, can barely take care of himself, but a genius.”

“And we need to use The Rukhin?”

“Yes, sir.”

Asterin frowned, “Am I missing something?”

Manon nodded, “There’s only one booster. And both plans require it.”

“What about The Lani crew? Luca’s proposal adds…” she did the math in her head, “five-hundred and thirty-three days to their mission.”

“They wouldn’t hesitate,” Manon said, standing up and seething, because she knew what Weylan was leaning towards. “Not for a second. That’s why you made this meeting a secret, isn’t it?” she accused him, meeting his eyes until he looked away. “You want us to decide.”

Weylan nodded.

“You gods-damned coward. It should be Commander Salvaterre’s decision and you know it.”

“It’s a matter of life and death, Manon.”

“He’s the Mission Leader, life and death matters are his decisions.”

Gavriel interrupted the fight before it could escalate, “Can The Lani even do that?”

“Yes,” Vaughan said, “it was built to do all the Three-Faced Goddess missions, so it’s not even two-thirds through it’s lifespan.”

“But if something went wrong, we’d lose the crew.” Asterin furrowed her brow, fighting between siding with Manon, who she agreed with, or with Weylan, who’s option was safer. “So… what? We either have a high chance of killing one person or a low chance of killing six? How do we make that decision?”

“We don’t. Weylan does.”

All eyes turned to him and they waited for what seemed like an eternity before, “We still have the chance to bring home five astronauts. Safe and sound.”

“Let them make that decision,” spat Manon, murder in her eyes. Weylan was grateful for the table separating them, not that it would be a hindrance to her if she tried anything.

“Manon. We’re going with option one.”

She made a disgusted sound and looked around the room. No one dared to meet her eye, not even Asterin. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Aelin trudged up the hill to the solar panels, getting ready to scrub them clean. Again.

As she crested the small incline, she paused. No. She couldn’t do it anymore.

Without another thought, she sat down, staring at the crimson sun.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Nox was sitting before his computer, tracking Aelin’s course. Gavriel was next to him and wondered aloud, “Where is she going?” She would walk for three-hundred metres in one way, pause for ten minutes and repeat the process in another direction. “RPL didn’t ask her to do this, what is it?”

“I don’t know, oh… she’s at the rover, incoming data dump… what is this, Chem analysis, batch 1A-17A?”

Realization dawned on Gavriel and admiration coursed through him. “She’s finishing the mission.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“We evac’d on day eighteen of thirty-one, which means we still have thirteen days of labs to do.” Aelin crushed up a rock sample, “Commander Salvaterre, your work’s in good hands. Whitethorn… um… I really have no understanding of chemolithotrophic detection. Did I say that right? Anyway, I’m doing my best. Faliq, I know you hate it when I touch the ChemCam but guess what? You left me on a desolate planet, you’re not allowed to get mad at me. Lochan,” she carefully tapped the fine powder into a container and screwed the lid on tightly, labeling it with a black marker, “I got a new cataloguing system that you’ll really like. As for Marama’s jobs… there are none. Really, I don’t know why we even brought you along.”

Aelin sighed through her nose, “I know keeping everything organized and ordered isn’t my strong suit but I want it to all make sense for later. Maybe you can teach it in a class, the Galathynius syllabus. ‘How to make water out of rocket fuel’ or ‘how to grow plants on a planet with no living organisms’, I don’t know, but be creative with it, please. I refuse to have my name attached to some boring class.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide was sitting in her bunk, muttering curses at her computer when it wouldn’t let her load the attachment’s from Lysandra’s email. Eventually, she gave up and called Nesryn over the radio, “Nessie darling, can I bother you?”

“Yep, what is it?”

“There’s this email from Lys, subject line: Your Bachelorette Party. I can’t open the attachments, it’s all this code.”

“Ok, well, bring it to me and I’ll see what I can do. I’m in the rec room.”

“Copy that, on my way.”

It only took a few minutes for Elide to float her way to Nesryn. She may have been distracted by her fiancé and his lips for a short while, but that was a moot point as she slid down the ladder and walked to where Nesryn was stretching on the floor. “Hey.”

Nesryn reached out for the laptop, looking like a young child on Yulemas morning, “Gimme gimme.” She lived to solve computer problems. Elide chuckled and sat down on the floor next to her friend as she worked. “Huh. These aren’t JPGs. It looks like plain TSCII files. Math equations, does this make any sense to you?” She angled the computer screen to Elide.

“’Luca Scéalaí Maneuver.’ Yeah, it’s a course maneuver for The Lani…” As the navigator for the mission, Elide tried to make sense of the equations, one phrase sticking out to her. “Day five-sixty-one. Oh, my gods. Nes, bless you, I could kiss you right now!”

Without another word, Elide jumped up and hurried to the radio, her voice blasted through every speaker on the ship, “This is Lochan, emergency meeting in the rec room, ASAP.”

Nesryn stood up, bewildered, “E, what is it?”

“Just wait, I’ll explain everything.”

Soon after, the boys had made their way to the worktable and Elide told them everything.

They sat in shock. Fenrys was the first to speak, “Would this really work?”

Elide nodded, “Yeah, I ran the numbers. It checks out.” Respect flooded her eyes, an excited gleam that Lorcan hadn’t seen in months. “It’s a brilliant course.”

“So why all the cloak and dagger,” Rowan asked, the ink on his face scrunching as he wrinkled his brow.

“TNSB rejected the idea. They want to put a big risk on Ae as opposed to a small risk on us,” Lorcan spat, indignation in his tone, “whoever snuck it into E’s email obviously disagrees.”

“So, we’re talking about going against TNSB’s orders?”

“Uh-huh. If we do the maneuver, they’ll have to send a provisional probe. We’d be forcing their hand.”

“Are we gonna do it?” Nesryn asked, a determined tilt to her chin.

Lorcan sighed and spread his hands, “Look, if it were up to me, we’d already be on our way.”

Fenrys’ eyes narrowed in confusion, “I’m confused. You’re Mission Leader, isn’t it your decision?”

“Not this time,” Elide answered for Lorcan. “TNSB expressly rejected the plan.”

“We’re talking about mutiny,” Lorcan said and that was not a word any of them used lightly. “We either all do this together, or not at all. Before you answer,” he leaned forward, looking everyone in the eye, “think of the consequences. If we mess up the supply, we die. If we mess up the gravity assist, we die. Even if we do everything perfectly, we still had five hundred and thirty-three days to our mission. Five hundred and thirty-three days without seeing our families. Five hundred and thirty-three days of unplanned space travel.”

“Sign me up.”

Everyone let loose a dry chuckle and Lorcan turned to Fenrys, “Slow down there, pup. You and me? We’re military. Chances are, we get down there and they’ll court marshal us.” Fenrys made a face. “As for the rest of you, I can guarantee, they’ll never let you back up here again.”

Now Rowan spoke up, “Say we say yes. How does this work?”

Everyone turned to Elide and she shrugged, “It’s really not that hard. I plot the course and execute it. No biggie.” A sly grin grew on her round lips. “Nes?”

“Remote override. But Mission Control can remotely pilot the ship.”

“You can’t disable it?”

“No, I can. I’d have to disable remote override on each control, which is tricky – I’d have to jump over a lot of code-“

“Just so everyone knows, Faliq’s hacker handle was ‘Mrs. Robot’ all through high school,” Elide cut in, cackling as Nesryn shot her a dirty look and then continued, daring anyone else to laugh.

“Lochan is a liar. And should keep our conversations private.” She paused. “I can do it.”

“This has to be unanimous. If anyone says no, we go home as planned.” Lorcan tapped the table, emphasizing his point, “But I vote yes.”

“I vote yes,” Fenrys said, drumming his fingers on the table.

Elide mused aloud, her face growing sad, “If we do this, it will be over nine hundred days of space travel. That’s enough space to last a lifetime.” She smiled at Lorcan as he rested his hand on her thigh and traced soothing circles with his thumb, not looking at anyone else as she said, “Yes.”

“Let’s go get our girl,” said Rowan, a glimmer of a smile on his lips.

And then there was one.

“Faliq?”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Flight, CAPCOM.”

“Go CAPCOM.”

“Unscheduled status update from The Lani.”

“Roger. Read it out,” the night shift was much quieter than the day. Usually.

“It’s… just a single sentence, sir.”

“What? What’s it say?”

“Um… it says: ‘Perranth, be advised: Luca Scéalaí is one steely-eyed missile man.”

“Who is Luca Scéalaí?”

Alarms rang out around Mission Control. “Uh… Flight, Guidance.”

“Go Guidance.”

“The Lani is off course.”

That had him sitting up straighter in his chair and he leaned forward, “CAPCOM, tell Lani they’re drifting. Guidance, get a correction ready-“

“Negative Flight. They’ve adjusted course. Deliberate rotation.”

“What the hell? CAPCOM, ask Lani ‘what the hell’.”

“Roger Flight.”

“Guidance, calculate how long they can stay their course before it’s irreversible and someone figure out who in Hellas’ realm is Luca Scéalaí!”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Manon entered Weylan’s office and he made her wait as he stayed staring out the window.

“Asterin will go to the media and tell them of TNSB’s decision to reroute The Lani to Farnor.”

“Seems like a smart move,” she said mildly, picking at her nails. “Is there a reason you called me in here?”

“You may have killed the whole crew.”

“Whoever sent that to them only passed along information that was their right in the first place. The crew decided to switch course.”

Weylan turned to her, his face red with fury as he hissed, “We are fighting the same war, Manon! Every time something goes wrong, the world forgets why we fly. I am trying to keep us airborne, this whole program, the reason everyone here gets up and goes to work every day is bigger than one girl!”

“She is not a girl. She is a grown woman; how dare you belittle her right now? Aelin Galathynius is braver than anyone on any planet. No one in this agency is not better or bigger than her,” Manon answered, her voice dripping with cool condescension for her boss. “Especially not you.”

He straightened. “Once this is over, I expect your resignation.”

She just laughed coldly, “Yeah, we’ll see about that, won’t we, Weylan?”

“Get out of my sight.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Five hundred and thirty-three days extra? And you said yes to this?”

Fenrys was attempting to placate his wife’s rage through the computer, but he remained unapologetic, “I did. She would’ve done the same for me, Mia, you know that.”

Nehemia scowled at him and traced a hand over her swollen stomach, “You really think I am going to forgive you for this and knocking me up with your demon spawn before you left for a year and a half?”

Fenrys grinned at her, “I do. Look at this face, no one can stay mad at me for long.” His grin was blinding and Nehemia sighed, pressing her lips together to suppress her grin. The smile won and Fenrys’ only grew wider, “There she is.” He didn’t think he liked anything more than seeing Nehemia smile like that at him.

Nehemia lifted her hand to the screen and he mirrored her. “Bring her home.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: i told y’all it would all be ok! comment to be added/removed from the tag list!

@mythicaitt @kandasboi @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @that-other-pineapple @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival @faerie-queen-fireheart @chemicha @rowaelin-cressworth @mynewdreamwasyou @candid-confetti @bat-wing-rhys @the-reading-obsessed-stitchbear @feyrethedarklady @booklover41802 @rowaelinforeverworld @jamesxdaisy @julemmaes @hellas-himself @kayjaybea

113 notes · View notes