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In this oneshot, the plot point that connects Aelin, Rowan, and Maisie is a headcanon I came up with while initially outlining LAUN, and it feels crazy to me it's out in the world now
Also, as you read it, remember that I have way too much fun writing a knight in distress heheheh
Warnings: none
Words: 4k
Rowan knew letting his parents take Maisie on their Yulemas shopping spree was a bad idea, and his concerns got confirmed when he saw the amount of packages from the toy store.
Some of his cousins have kids, but not that many.
He greeted his family, wary as he descended the porch steps, then said, “I don’t think I have space under the tree for all this.”
Maisie hopped off the car, overjoyed as she tugged on a leash and wheeled a white dog stuffed on roller skates.
Rowan hurried to his father’s side to help him unload the Yulemas presents from the trunk. Owen held a large box that hid his son from view, which was quickly remedied.
He took the box from him and cautioned, “Dad…”
Unfazed by his own son, Owen got another box from the trunk and led them to the porch, laughing. “Don’t ‘dad’ me, Kiddo.”
After dropping everything in the living room, Rowan blocked his dad’s path back to the car.
“That custom stuffed animal shop from the mall is a scam, and you know it. Did she trick you into it?”
Already amused, the old man barked a laugh at Rowan’s uneasiness. “No, son, I didn’t get fooled by a three-year-old girl.”
“You know what I mean. Did she throw herself on the floor screaming or something like that?”
“No, she didn’t,” Rowan’s mom chimed in. “She only does that when you say ‘no’ to her.”
A likely thing for his mom to say.
Will showering her with gifts spoil her too much? But if he asks his parents to tone down the gifts, will it traumatize her?
He was grateful for his parents’ presence in Maisie’s life. They were an invaluable part of his support system, and they did that out of love. But what if that kind of behavior makes her think that receiving gifts equals love?
“Come on, darling.” His mom, hand resting on Rowan’s shoulder, softly asked him to go inside the house. “We took her out so you could rest, and it seems like you did none of that.”
However, he passed straight through the kitchen door and entered his daughter’s room. His little girl was still tending her new inanimate dog.
He grabbed a baby wipe from her closet and cleaned a few muddy spots on the floor, from the toy’s roller skates. Trying to get her to understand why she shouldn’t make a mess in the bedroom after playing outside was a waste of time.
“Did you like the new toy your grandparents gave you, Mais?”
“Not a toy, Daddy! It’s Princess Cottonelia.”
Rowan snorted. She liked it then. “Did you say ‘thank you’?”
She frantically nodded, blonde pigtails bouncing and owlish green eyes aimed at him. It never got old, how spontaneously she tugged his heartstrings tight. The smallest person he knew had him wrapped around her finger.
Crouching before her, he bumped the adorable bony tip of Maisie’s nose.
Her mother’s nose, but he pushed the thought aside as soon as it arrived.
“Very well.” He showed her the dirty wipe. “And what should Princess Cottonelia do after playing outside with you?”
"I told her, no shoes in the house!"
That sounds like something his daughter would do–blame it on a stuffed animal.
“So why don’t you go back to the door and help her take them off?”
Maisie eyed the toy’s pink skates, her expression longing. “But it’s so cute.”
To be fair, Rowan would’ve allowed it had she not walked it on post-rain grass before entering the house.
He pointed at her bedroom door. “Your grandpa’s in the living room; he’ll help you untie it.”
She huffed and left, but paused at the threshold.
“Ugh! Do I hafta listen to you forever?”
Rowan raised his eyebrows—what he actually wanted to do was laugh, but rewarding that kind of attitude with a positive reaction wouldn’t do.
“Until you die, yes.”
“You mean, ‘till you die?”
He couldn’t do it anymore. Rowan’s laugh came sharp and unconsented, and Maisie was already with Owen when he managed, “Let’s hope you’re right, Mais.”
Back in the kitchen where he was supposed to be in the first place, he found his mom already getting dinner started.
“Gimme.” Rowan had a hand out for the pan, but she wouldn’t hand it to him. “I don’t want you working on your vacation.”
“Honey, I’m retired—and live at a beach house. Life’s a big vacation for me.”
“I’ll help, then,” he stated—no room for argument, though he knew his mom would if she wanted t0.
They fell into a peaceful rhythm, Rowan stepping into the role of a sous chef because Rory was undoubtedly the best cook between the two of them.
He almost complained when she added a lot more butter and greasy ingredients than he would to the chicken spaghetti. Their dinner would be unhealthy enough tomorrow at the Yulemas dinner at Enda’s, so Rowan wanted to keep things healthy today; but his mother was already on his case about the worrying, so he kept his complaint to himself. She wouldn’t harm her only granddaughter on purpose, or at least that’s what Rowan chanted inside his head to soothe himself.
“What did you do after we left?” She leveled a silicone spoon at him. “And don’t tell me you rested, because you look as beaten down as you did this morning.”
“I deep-cleaned the windows and sorted through Maisie’s old clothes for donation.” Though ‘old’ might be a stretch. That kid grows too quickly for her own good. “Did anything exciting happen at the mall?”
Stirring the pan with the sauce, Rory played nonchalant. “Depends on what you call ‘exciting’.”
Not a good sign.
“Sounds like you’ll tell me either way.”
“I called Aelin.”
The rhythmic chopping sound stopped, and the knife’s handle made a loud thud as Rowan slammed it back onto the counter. With both hands braced on the surface, he gave his mom an incredulous look. “You did what?”
She didn’t back down, though. Straightening her shoulders, she used her scolding mom tone on him. “Called my grandchild’s mother. Do you have something to say?”
Rowan ground his jaw, knowing that crossing his mom would do no good. His co-parenting relationship with Aelin was strained, and he didn’t want his mom in the middle of it.
Partially because she adored Aelin—how could she not? She was a great mom with social skills enough to charm anyone, and Rory had never been on the receiving end of Aelin’s wrath. Or at least not that he’s aware of.
“Was she rude to you?”
“What? Absolutely not!” Lowering her tone, she continued, “Aelin might have her faults, just as you do, but I don’t think she’s unreasonable, darling. I think things between you two could be salvageable if you try hard enough—even if it’s just for Maisie’s sake.”
Her last sentence brought a bitter chuckle to his lips. “You’re just trying to marry me off to whoever’s nearest.”
“Well, you’re both on the market, and it would be ideal for your child if the person you marry is her actual mother.”
“Not happening—besides, Lorcan told me she’s seeing some hotshot doctor from work.”
“That’s as good as nothing without a ring on her finger.”
“Mom.”
“I’m just saying!” She turns her back to him to check the stove, a deep frown on her face. “I told you, Rowan, I told you when I stayed with you after Maisie was born—”
“I remember—”
“She’s not the kind of woman you find twice.”
Still braced on the counter, he bowed his head, feeling the sting of his mother’s words run through him.
Her infuriating ways aside, Aelin truly was the superhero Maisie believed her to be.
When she wasn’t saving lives, she was being the best mom their kid could have. He avoided thinking about her off-work, kid-free time—it was none of his business—but now Rowan knew for sure who she reserved it for: bright and tanned cardiologists.
And Rowan… he was still learning how to detangle Maisie’s hair without making her cry.
He considered asking how she did it and if she sometimes struggled like he did, but admitting his own flaws to a hostile co-parent was a dangerous game.
Rowan said nothing, waiting until the next blow came.
“You should’ve married her.”
“And we would’ve been so happy, shouting at each other every day like we do on pickups and drop-offs. A very healthy environment for Maisie.”
They try to be civil, at least Rowan does, but it never lasts long—one of them always sabotages it before it settles in.
He’s unsure of what motivates her, but him… he grows bitter. Politeness is fine, but whenever they set on anything remotely close to warmth, a simmering resentment boils within him, and bitterness overflows him. If they act friendly, he can’t help but look back and wonder if it means…
It means nothing after all.
“Well, I called her to ask what gifts she bought for Maisie to avoid a duplicate present, and she was perfectly pleasant to me. Even more so when I promised to bake her that chocolate cake she likes and send it the next… Maisie switching houses thing—whatever you call it in that modern parenting of yours.”
Resuming the chopping, he sighed. “Is that all?”
“I asked Maisie if she wanted to buy her mom a Yulemas present, and she was very excited about it. We picked it together, and I wrote from: Maisie / to: Mommy on the gift tag.”
Impossible woman.
~~
The skirt of Maisie’s new Elsa costume swept the floor like a broom, and Rowan intently watched her, afraid she’d trip on it.
“I’m so sorry,” Enda said, following his gaze. “I shouldn’t have gone a size up, but your kid’s just so tall.”
“She loves it, and I have a plan for the skirt. Thanks.” He turned to his cousin, hoping his gaze portrayed how thankful he felt. How much it meant to him, that people cared about his kid.
Enda waved him off and returned his attention to the girls nearby. Sellene, her daughter, Maisie and Enda’s sister-in-law discussed Disney princesses, and he finally relaxed. Rowan trusted Sellene enough to watch Maisie, so he did it less intently.
It was a relief that his kid could join him this year; Aelin was on call this Yulemas, so Rowan had her all holiday, and their kid would spend New Year’s with her mom. Too bad for Aelin, but it worked out perfectly for him.
Having a kid made gatherings with his extended family much more bearable. People asked him about Maisie rather than his love life, and she was cute and talkative enough to make up for his own lack of social skills. Now, most of the interactions with people he wasn’t close to revolved around her, which worked out great for him.
“No, you can’t be Tiana!” Maisie shouted nearby, dragging attention from both men and the family members nearby.
Enda’s sister-in-law tilted her head, amused and confused at the same time. “But she’s my favorite!”
“No! Pick another princess.” To be fair, Maisie seemed genuinely distressed by the claim. "Tiana has a job. You can't be her."
Rowan immediately ran over and picked Maisie up. Despite Sellene’s laughter, which she tried to hide with her hand, he gave the women a look of apology and then shifted his daughter’s focus.
“Hey, Maisy Daisy. Why don’t we hand out some presents?”
Just like that, the little girl’s attention was happily and successfully diverted.
She couldn’t read the tags yet, but once Rowan read it for her, she’d run over to whoever the recipient was—no matter whether they were busy or deep in conversation with someone else—and hand out the gift, showing off the tiny teeth she was just finishing growing. Most times, the person just smiled at her father, and he waved in acknowledgment from afar.
Best Yulemas ever.
She ran back to him, grabby hands eager to give out more gifts.
“We’re done, Kiddo.”
She squinted at him, suspicious of that information. “I find Mommy’s gift?”
Rowan straightened. His mouth opened and closed as he pondered his words. “I didn’t bring your mom’s gift because we won’t see her tonight, Mais. It’s at home, and you’ll give it to her…” A slight pause for the math. “The day after tomorrow.”
And that’s when she started crying. Loudly. Screaming for her ‘mommy’ between sobs, despite how much Rowan tried to calm her down.
He knew the entire party stopped to stare at the two of them, and it was easy to ignore this while all his mental energy went to trying to soothe his deeply distressed three-year-old.
Rowan knew that many people in his family were quiet critics of the way he raised Maisie. But first, he did not give a fuck. Second, while he agrees that shared parenting isn’t ideal, the people who judged him didn’t realize how much worse it would be to raise Maisie with Aelin.
His mom kneeled by his side and did her best to comfort Maisie, but the little girl was indomitable. The present she got for Aelin raised her hopes, which were now shattered.
“I’m calling Aelin.”
“No, you’re not.” Rowan glared at his mother.
This is co-parenting 101: do not rely on one another, for it may be perceived as a sign of weakness.
Struggling to deal with a toddler’s meltdown? Weakness.
His mother, however, might be the only person in the world he felt like explaining himself to. “Look, she’s never like this—I mean, sporadically, but she’s used to being away from Aelin. I don’t know why—”
“Because she’s a toddler, and she wants her mommy on Yulemas,” Rory said through gritted teeth.
Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. He’s never not splitting the holiday with Aelin again, no matter who he has to talk to in order to free her of her shift.
“Just call her.”
“She won’t answer. She never answers me when she’s at work.”
“Just try, okay? Maybe Maisie will feel better if she talks to her mom.”
“Mom, I don’t think—”
Maisie gave a bloodcurdling scream. Rowan grabbed his phone.
Aelin answered on the second ring.
He was about to greet her and explain when their daughter’s wailing spared him from coming up with words.
Aelin’s immediate response was, “Oh, no.”
“Yep.”
“What happened?”
“I think she just misses you. We’ve never done an entire Yulemas with just one parent, right?”
“Yeah, right. I…” A pause. “I can’t come to you. Do you think a phone call will do, or do you think it’s best to bring her here?”
“At the hospital.”
“No, at Uncle Orlon’s.”
“You…” He frowned. Wasn’t he supposed to stay with Maisie all Yulemas because Aelin was on call? Was he going mad?
“Is that Mommy?” Maisie asked, green eyes widened and aimed at him. She sniffed, but the prospect of her mother’s presence made her stop sobbing.
“It is.” He bumped his daughter’s nose, aware that Aelin could hear their entire exchange. “Shall we drive to your mother so you can give her a hug?”
~~
Rowan was thankful for the lack of traffic, which allowed him to have the streets to himself. After a quick stop at his house to grab the present, he could see Aelin’s car parked in front of Orlon’s house.
Maisie bounced with anticipation on her car seat the entire time. When she hopped off the vehicle, the lack of height to reach the doorbell didn’t deter her—she banged on the door with all the strength her tiny fists could muster until her mother answered the door.
“Maisy Daisy!” Aelin yelled, her tone high-pitched and overjoyed, and she swept her daughter off the floor with ease, hugging the squealing child tight.
It all happened so fast Rowan hadn’t even reached the porch himself. He stood halfway into the garden, watching the scene unfold as he held a gift he hadn’t purchased nor chosen.
After peppering Maisie’s face with kisses, Aelin whispered something that made the child bolt inside—probably to greet her mother’s family, who were somewhere inside, even if Rowan couldn’t see them.
Aelin didn’t comment on the package he held.
Instead, he said, “You told me you had a shift.”
“Technically, I’m still on call for the next…” Aelin checked the analog clock on her wrist, nose wrinkling. “Seventeen hours.” She shrugged and pointed at the enormous backpack leaning against Orlon’s living room wall. “I just have to stay within distance; they’ll call me if they need an ortho.”
“But you’re here.”
“Look, I would’ve demanded my half Yulemas with Maisie, okay? You know I would. But it’s Yulemas—everyone has their own plans. If—when—I get called, I’ll have no one to watch Maisie for me.”
No one except Maisie’s own father, who lived a block away.
Rowan stared, motionless, a question stuck in his throat: why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you ask me?
He didn’t need to voice it, though, no matter how much he felt like screaming at her for it.
It’s co-parenting 101, after all.
As much as he wanted to scream at her for how dumb her plan was, Rowan couldn’t.
He knew he would’ve done the same.
Aelin stood before him, shoulders drawn back and chin high, waiting for a blow that would never come. What would he even say to her?
Before Rowan could think of something to break the deafening silence, Maisie barrelled back and crashed into her mother’s leg.
“Happy Yulemas, Mommy!”
“What?” Aelin snapped back into herself and looked around, feigning confusion with the overdone theatrics her daughter loved. “I thought we had Yulemas last year!”
“No!” Maisie yelled, giggling. “We have Yew-mas every year. It’s the laws of fiz-icks!”
The laws of physics. “Who taught you about that, Maisy Daisy?” Rowan asked, forever baffled by the little girl.
Despite this, she paid him no mind, pulling her mother into a drawn-out account of everything that occurred at tonight’s Yulemas dinner at Enda’s, and also mentioned Princess Cottonelia.
It was only then that he could pay attention to Aelin. She wore minimal makeup and no jewelry, ready to leave at a moment's notice the instant the hospital needed her.
It hardly affected her at all. Objectively speaking, there isn’t a time when Aelin is not breathtaking. Even when she was a sweaty mess after hours on end of strenuous training, Rowan could barely keep it in his pants.
In fact, Rowan had not kept it in his pants. Maisie was living proof of that.
The color she added to her cheeks wasn’t the same shade from when she gets riled up or after a run, and neither did the paint on her lips resemble the redness it gets after…
He shook off the thought.
What soothed him is that even an objective observer would find Aelin beautiful, perhaps even more so without Rowan's long-held but suppressed feelings. Which was what mattered at this point: Rowan was indifferent to Aelin’s staggering beauty.
Her looks were an objective fact about her, and it made sense that he felt attracted to the mother of his child—his body decided they’d produce viable offspring, which they did, and it made his dick involuntarily light up. This said nothing about his feelings, which he was glad of.
Getting over Aelin was the best thing he’s ever done for himself.
“Oh, wow, honey. You have a lot to say about this Yulemas party, huh?” Aelin interjected when Maisie took a slight break from her endless talking. If later she confessed to only grasping half of it, Rowan wouldn’t judge her; Mala knew that one of his side gigs was toddler translator—a role he didn’t quite excel at.
“My head is little, and there are lots of thinks inside! They hafta get out!”
Aelin hums and nods, doing her best to take the little girl seriously, keeping her lips pursed for a moment so she doesn’t laugh. “You’ll have to tell me everything, then.”
Still crouched down because of their daughter, she looked up at Rowan. “Don’t you want to come inside?”
Yes. At Enda’s, he was too busy with obligatory small talk and preventing Maisie from causing any damage—he was starving by now, and the food at Orlon’s was always delicious.
“Better not,” Rowan said instead. “Thank you, though.”
With his gaze fixed on Maisie, he cleared his throat and directed a meaningful look towards Aelin’s Yulemas gift. “Did you forget something?”
The child’s eyes became bright with excitement, and she was quick to correct her error by taking the gift and then presenting it to her mother.
“For Mommy! Happy Yulemas,” Maisie said as she clung to Aelin’s neck like a baby koala.
Aelin thanked her daughter, eyes brimming with emotion as she clutched the present to her chest. Her eyes lingered on the tag for a while, studying the written content and the crooked lines of Maisie’s hand-drawn heart.
“Tell Rory I said thanks.”
Rowan’s eyes bug out of his skull. “How—I mean—”
“Wild guess.” She grinned. “And it’s not your handwriting on the note—penmanship too good.”
Rowan had a history of taking offense at sentences like this; however, his handwriting was quite bad indeed. In his defense, it was a legible scrawl.
He snorted. “That’s fair.”
“I didn’t get you anything. Sorry.”
“I didn’t either.”
Aelin opened her mouth to speak, but Aedion showed up in the living room, greeting Maise in a loud and excited manner that sent the little girl into a fit of giggles.
“Look who’s here!” he cheered. “I couldn’t believe my ears when Darrow told me you’d just arrived.”
Aedion continued, “Come on in! Darrow and I were just telling Kyllian about Colonel Perrington’s affair with that new lieutenant. I bet you have all the juicy details.”
“Thanks, but I should probably head out. Call me if Aelin gets summoned, though.”
“What? Nonsense!” Aelin’s cousin slapped his shoulder in a friendly manner and practically shoved him inside the house, no questions or consent asked.
Well, his stomach wasn’t getting any fuller, and he had all the juicy details.
Rowan turned around, looking for Aelin’s face as Aedion led him inside. She held Maisie close to her chest, her eyes misted with appreciation and tenderness as she scented her daughter’s baby cologne.
Thank you, she mouthed.
A small tilt at the corner of his lips was the only response he gave her.
Rowan couldn't recall if he’d wished Aelin a merry Yulemas or not, but he knew she was having one now.
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oh someone told me something useful yesterday. she said she’s been thinking about her tbr less as an overwhelming list of books she Must Read and more like she’s cultivating a wine cellar. making a rich collection that will provide the perfect thing when needed. a bottle will get uncorked when the time is right
literally for last year’s Rowaelin Yulemas Swap but uhhh….happy Yulemas @sassyhobbits ? LOL
Read PART I HERE
Word count: 5.5k
Warnings: talk of death and depression.
Aelin awoke with a gasp, having the remnants of green eyes and wisps of silvery hair lingering in her vision. It wasn’t enough to be plagued by thoughts of Rowan during the day, she had to be taunted with him during the night, too.
Aelin spent the day prior thinking about what Lysandra had said- she deserved to be happy. Aelin, on a fundamental level, knew that was true. But she also couldn’t help herself from feeling the need to run away. It wasn’t just that a relationship or caring for someone was scary, though that was definitely part of it. Her parents were gone, leaving her behind in a world that was not made for people to navigate alone. Aedion’s mom was gone, Dorian and Chaol, while still alive, were distant since the entire love triangle debacle in Rifthold a few years prior. The only constant in her life was Aedion but he was family, seemingly obligated to be there for her.
What if Rowan was the same as everyone else? What if he left her, her heart shattered in pieces with no way to clean it up? If he got to know her and found out that her baggage wasn’t worth the weight it took to bear it? She knew her therapist would tell her that she couldn’t think like that and that she was putting feelings and emotions into the situation that were only hypothetical.
No, she decided. She couldn’t start something with Rowan right now. Despite having decided on moving back to Orynth, the process could take quite a while. She needed to find a job, an apartment, needed to start her life back up here before she could get into a relationship or care about anything in that way.
Pushing thoughts of Rowan out of her mind, she put on her best pair of comfy leggings. Later that evening was the skate night in the town square but before they went there, she was spending the day baking with Lysandra and Gavryn, something she was wholeheartedly looking forward to. She just hoped her traitorous thoughts would leave her alone.
- - - - -
“Aelin, you literally just get on the ice. I promise you’ll be fine!” Elide yelled over the music and crowd.
Aelin was not going to be fine. She hadn’t skated since she was a teenager and even then, it never seemed to come easy to her. The crappy hockey skates that the rink had also didn’t help matters. She was going to fall on her ass and make a huge fool of herself by the end of the night, she’d be willing to bet money on it.
“I’m trying,” she ground out through gritted teeth.
It was easy for Elide to say, the smaller woman had her brute of a boyfriend to help steady her. Unfortunately for Aelin, that courtesy did not extend to her, the giant, crotchety man hating her for some unknown reason.
Tentatively, Aelin put her bladed boot on the rink, clinging heavily to the side board. She glanced a look at the crowd to make sure no one was in her way. Her cousin and Lysandra were skating with Gavryn between them, the boy doing way better than she currently was.
Elide reached for her hand as she and Lorcan glided by, catching it slightly only to slide away as Aelin still held onto the wall. The small gesture was enough to throw Aelin off balance and she wobbled back and forth a few times. She probably looked comical standing there on the ice but Aelin’s embarrassment would have to wait until later. For now, she just had to survive.
Taking a deep breath, she told herself that she could do it. It was just gliding on the ice, nothing more, nothing less. Dropping her hand from the wall, she gave herself a push to propel herself forward. Luckily, no one was in her path. Unluckily, no one was in her path and, therefore, there was nothing to stop her as she careened forward. Wobbling, she tensed every part of her body in the hopes that it would slow her down. It was no use, she was going to collide fully with the barrier at the end of the rink. A glorious crash and burn for the famous Aelin Galathynius. At least she got to mend things with Aedion before she died, she thought.
Before she could crash into the wall, a pair of warm hands gripped her waist, pulling back on her lightly while turning them away from the wall. The hands briefly left her waist before a flash of green and silver entered her peripheral vision.
“Need some help here?” Gods, his rough, accented timbre was enough to send chills radiating throughout her body. Rowan had a smile on his face as he made his way to her front.
She was unintentionally breathless when she answered. “I–thank you. Gods I thought I was a goner there.”
Rowan let out a deep laugh, the corners of his eyes wrinkling slightly. “No problem. Always happy to help a princess in need.” Aelin rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. “I do, however, find it hard to believe that you don’t know how to skate.”
Aelin let out a breath. “I know how to skate. It’s just been a while. Rifthold doesn’t really have cool enough weather to do this kind of stuff and the last time I went skating was–” Aelin paused. “Well, it was with my parents, I guess.”
A look of understanding crossed Rowan’s face, but his gaze held no pity. Instead, determination settled in his features.
“Take my hand, Aelin.”
“I really will be fine. I think I’m just going to sit down for a bit.” She was about to make for the wall but he quickly glided in front of her.
“Aelin. Take my hand.” His eyes were soft when she met them and his voice held a slight hint of humor. There was no judgement, nothing but softness and determination. Oh how the town will talk, she thought.
As if he knew her thoughts, Rowan raised an eyebrow. As if you truly care?
She narrowed her eyes and in that moment, she decided, fuck it. She placed her gloved hand into his own and as she did, a brilliant smile overtook his features.
Rowan’s grip was steady as he guided her through the crowded rink. It was all Aelin could do to hold on tight and allow him to pull her as he skated. It was nice, she thought, having someone looking out for her.
Rowan sped up slightly and skated directly in front of her, turning mid-skate to face her. A shock of anxiety shot through her. “You’re going to crash!”
Rowan chuckled. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about everyone else, just keep your eyes on me, okay?”
Aelin nodded, taking a shaky breath.
“Now put both of your hands into mine.” She did as he asked. “Close your eyes.”
His statement only made her eyes open wider. “What!?”
He smiled, somehow calming her with just a look. “Do you trust me?”
Aelin blinked, then nodded.
“Then close your eyes, Aelin.” She did as he asked, shakiness still lingering in her hands. She was sure Rowan was able to feel the nerves vibrating throughout her body. She never used to be afraid of skating. But it seemed since her parents died, even the smallest thing that gave her any type of anxiety made her whole body shake. Fear wasn’t just fear anymore, it was almost debilitating.
“Have you been on this rink before?” She was about to answer, half opening her eyes. “Don’t look. Just keep your eyes closed.”
“Yes, I have. Long ago.”
“So you know that it’s just a rink. It’s just ice and these people around you are probably people that you’ve known your whole life.” Rowan paused. “Tell me about them.”
“Who? The people on the ice that I can’t see because my eyes are closed?”
He huffed a laugh. “Your parents, smartass.” His voice was quiet, empathetic.
Aelin sighed, keeping her eyes closed. “They were the best. Dad was always a workaholic but he did it all for us, for my mom and me. And Aedion. He didn’t know his dad so my dad sort of stepped into that role. It’s why we’re like siblings.” A small smile made its way to her face.
“And your mom?”
“My mom was…she was the best. She was gentle yet fiery, strong yet emotional. My dad always said that I’m a lot like her. I mean, I look like her, for one thing. But my personality is so much like hers, too.” Aelin let out a huff of breath. “Sometimes, we were too alike. We butt heads a lot but it was never permanent. I actually got my nickname from her. Fireheart.”
With her eyes closed, she could see them–how they were back then, and how they would be now. Maybe her dad would be here, helping her skate. Or maybe she would never have become fearful of skating in the first place, making large circles around the rink on her own. Her mom, with small pops of grey spread throughout her blonde hair, would be watching from the sideline, saying that she was getting too old for skating, that she’d break a bone.
“I miss them,” she admitted. “I miss them a lot. We used to come to the rink every year around this time. I think that’s why I’m so anxious.”
“It’s normal to miss them. It’s normal to grieve and to shy away from doing things that you did with them now that they’re gone.” Aelin opened her eyes and met his green ones. “Everyone grieves in their own way, there’s no right or wrong way to do it. Sometimes, people feel ok after a month, sometimes it takes them years and years. Sometimes, they never get over it. It always sucks, though. No matter what.”
“You sound like you have your own story to tell.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
His eyes felt like they were boring into her, like they could see everything that she was and is. Yet he didn’t look away, except to make sure their path was clear. “Aye. My parents, like yours, died when I was young. And my girlfriend passed away, as well.”
“I’m so sorry, Rowan.” She meant it. She never wanted anyone else to feel the way she felt ten years ago and every year since, even if, selfishly, she felt a pang of jealousy at the mention of his girlfriend.
“Thanks. It was about eight years ago now. But it still hurts. I still replay every interaction we had, thinking that maybe if we hadn’t fought, she wouldn’t have been driving to her parents house. That she’d still be here with me.” He took a deep inhale. “But I also have to remember that it wasn’t my fault and that I deserve to be happy. I didn’t control her actions just like I can’t control anyone else’s now except my own.”
“Is that why you moved here to Orynth?”
“Yes. It took me a few years after her death to decide what to do. But I felt like I had no one left in Doranelle. I figured a fresh start was what I needed, so I moved here. Left my cousins behind, though I’ve since talked to them and they’ve come to visit me a few times.”
Understanding dawned on Aelin. “That’s why you look at me like that.”
Rowan’s brows rose. “Like what, Princess?” His tone sounded almost suggestive, probably to make up for the heaviness of their conversation.
But Aelin wasn’t having it. “Like you see me. Like you understand everything that I’ve done. And you don’t judge me for it.”
Rowan looked down, the first time it seemed like he was having a hard time meeting her eyes. But when he looked back up at her, his gaze was unbending, resolute. “I do. I see you, Aelin.”
It was her turn to avert her eyes. Shyness overtook her. She wasn’t used to men being so direct in their feelings with her.
Rowan inhaled quickly and she could’ve sworn she detected a faint tremor to his hands. “So, Fireheart, huh?”
Aelin’s heart swelled, hearing her old nickname. “Yeah, Fireheart.” She said nothing more, didn’t need to. She was sure Rowan could hear the wistfulness in her voice.
“Well then, Fireheart, are you aware that you’ve been skating on your own for the last few minutes?”
Aelin’s brow furrowed as she looked down to her skates. Rowan was still holding her hand but very lightly, more there for moral support than for actual balance. Aelin let out a laugh before the panic set in again. Now that she was aware, her balance once again became wobbly and her blade caught in a deep groove. She would’ve gone flying toward the wall if an arm didn’t make its way around her waist again.
“I’ve got you,” Rowan murmured. Once again in his arms, she couldn’t help but notice how good it felt to be held by him. Not only his strong arms, but his scent, his warmth, his unwavering steadiness. “I won’t let you fall.”
She couldn’t help but think that his words were a double entendre, a sign that maybe she could take this step with someone–with him.
The cheerful, upbeat music changed into a slightly soothing ballad and Aelin noticed that many people were exiting the rink. The ones left there were pairing off, families forming small huddles and couples embracing. She was about to suggest they follow suit and get off the ice when Rowan interrupted her. “Dance with me?”
When she looked at his face, she swore she could see a flush on his cheeks, not just from the cold. She nodded and allowed herself to be pulled into his strong arms. They didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. The song was a balm to both of them, allowing them to be content just as they were. Aelin moved so that her forehead was resting on Rowan’s chest, meeting only just below his clavicle. She could hear the beat of his heart and the movement of his breath. Calm. Soothing. Home.
Rowan’s cheek came to rest along her hair and she could’ve sworn that he placed a gentle kiss to her head. Then lower, his cold nose buried itself into her neck, his soft lips brushing the skin between her coat and her hat.. She never felt so…warm, content. It had been years since her mind had gone quiet like this. She couldn’t help but think that it was something she could get used to.
They stayed like that for a while, the soft melody of the song lulling them into a rhythm it felt like they’d been dancing to their entire lives. Surrounded by the sea of dancing couples and families, Aelin felt…hopeful. Not only did she not feel alone, she felt as if this was where she was meant to be.
But another thought crossed her mind right after the first. She couldn’t do this. She was leaving tomorrow, for fuck’s sake and she had no idea when she would be back. Sure, Rifthold was a 6 hour flight from Orynth and long-distance relationships had been done with more distance but it felt…wrong. She couldn’t do this to Rowan after he just told her the reason for his presence in Orynth was losing an ex-girlfriend. It could be months…years before she got all of her shit together to move back home.
She jolted her head back suddenly, reality rushing over her like a cold bucket of water.
Aelin knew what she was going to say; what she should say. But when she met Rowan’s confused gaze, she lost her words. “I–I..”
“Aelin? What’s wrong?” It was all she could do to hold herself back from bringing her fingers up to his brow to soften the furrow that appeared there.
“Nothing! I just…I need to go.”
Rowan cocked his head but didn’t let her go quite yet. She tried to back up away from him, forgetting that she was still on the ice and couldn’t exactly go anywhere. One of Rowan’s hands tightened on her waist slightly while the other came up to cup her face. “Take a breath, Aelin. You’re breathing fast.”
Aelin did as she was told but couldn’t seem to get enough air into her lungs. “Can you please help me over? I just–I need to go.”
“Of course. But…” Rowan looked conflicted. “If I said or did something wrong, please tell me. I’m sorry if I was out of line asking about your parents or dancing or–.”
“No. You weren’t. I’m just…well, me. It’s not you.” Aelin felt as though she was going to cry any moment and she really needed to get to the bench so she could take these damn skates off. The lights were too bright, her skates too tight, the crowd too loud. She needed to be anywhere but here at the moment.
Rowan glided her over to the bench, helping her to sit on the near-icy surface with ease. He started to bend down to help her untie the knots in her laces but she quickly pulled one foot up to do it herself.
“I’m fine, really. I got this. Thanks for helping me tonight.” She couldn’t shake the tremble from her voice or stop her hands from shaking as she clumsily untied her skates.
Rowan was stoic and silent by her side. She swore that the expression he wore was hurt but she couldn’t be sure. Hell, of course it was hurt. She basically rejected the man on what may have been the nicest night she ever had in front of quite a few people.
As soon as she was done unlacing, she stood up quickly and started making her way to the skate return to get her shoes. She turned back only once, giving what she hoped was an apologetic smile, then hastily made her way through the crowd in nothing but her socks.
If she had turned back again, she might have saw the few staggering steps Rowan took in her direction.
- - - - -
Back at Aedion’s house, Aelin stared at herself in the mirror, at the streaked mascara now running down her face. Gods, why was she like this? She ran away from something that felt so damn nice the first chance she got. Rowan didn’t deserve that. He deserved someone who could give him everything he wanted. And while she would have liked to believe that could’ve been her an hour ago, now she wasn’t so sure.
A soft knock sounded on the bathroom door. “Aelin?” a distinctly female voice called.
Lysandra. Shit. She thought she’d be alone here, could wallow in the misery she continued to cause for herself.
“Aelin, I know you’re in there. Please open up?” The woman’s voice was loud enough to hear though there was no anger or disappointment in her tone.
Reluctantly, Aelin unlocked the door and turned the handle, taking in the stunning brunette on the other side.
“Oh, Aelin.” As soon as Lysandra’s arms opened for her, Aelin returned her friend’s embrace. She couldn’t help the sobs that escaped her chest. “Shh, let it out. You’re okay, you’re safe, I’m here for you. Just let it out.”
So Aelin did. It had been a while since she trusted anyone enough to hold her like this while she wept. If she had told 18 year old Aelin that the first person to do so in 10 years would’ve been her high school enemy, she would’ve cackled then keeled over. But Lysandra’s embrace felt like something that was holding her together, something she absolutely needed.
Once her sobs died down, Aelin pulled back slightly, looking into Lys’ green eyes.
“Let me make you some tea and then we can talk, okay?”
Aelin nodded once and allowed herself to be pulled toward the kitchen.
“Aedion and Gav are still at the skate night. I saw you make a quick exit and Rowan looked a little confused so I figured I’d come and see if you were okay.” Aelin flinched at the mention of Rowan’s name.
Setting a steaming cup in front of her, Lysandra took the seat opposite her and took a sip from her own cup. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to but I think it would help. Whatever it was that happened.”
“Nothing happened. And that’s the problem.” Aelin let out a sardonic laugh.
Lysandra just looked at her, no judgement on her face.
Aelin sighed, taking a sip of her hot tea and allowing it to ground her. “I ran. That’s what happened. I ran away from him.”
“Why?”
“Because…because I was feeling too much? Because I’m leaving tomorrow and it’s not fair to him? Because…because…” Lysandra waited patiently for Aelin to sort out her thoughts. “Because I could really see myself caring about him and I–I’m scared.” And there it was, the final piece of the incredibly messy puzzle that was her life. Maybe that’s the reason why it never worked out with anyone else. She was always a version of herself that she thought they wanted her to be. But with Rowan tonight…she was just Aelin. Just Fireheart. And that scared her more than anything.
“I can’t imagine what you went through these past years, Aelin. And I’m sure you went to hell and back before coming back to Orynth. But you’re one of the strongest people I know.” There were tears in Lysandra’s eyes, glistening in the low light of the kitchen. “I don’t know many people who would be able to go through what you did and come back home and still be a whole, beautiful, shining person. Because you are, Aelin. You might not think that about yourself but you are a light to the people around you. Just like you were a light 10 years ago. Hell, most of my favorite memories were when we were verbally sparring in debate class.”
Aelin let out a chuckle.
“When you first got here last week, you were…reserved. It was a little scary actually.” Lysandra raised a brow and had a slight uptilt to her lips. “I thought maybe you just grew up, got calmer. But then you started spending more time with us and I saw you light up again. And I think half of that was just being back here, being around your family again. But I think that a big part of that was also being around someone who knew loss the way you do. Maybe you don’t know him that well, maybe you don’t think you deserve him, I don’t know. But I will say that from an outside perspective that you’ve come alive since you’ve known him. What you do with that information is up to you, I’m no meddler.”
Aelin let out a watery laugh. “That’s a big fat lie.”
Lysandra managed to look a little sheepish. “Ok, maybe I’m a little bit of a meddler. But I would never do anything that you didn’t want me to do. So if you tell me to back off, I will, and I’ll never mention Rowan again.” Lysandra reached over to take her hands. “But if you want support, I’m here. You need a listening ear? I’m here. You just need a shoulder to cry on? I can be that for you.”
Aelin let out a strong breath. “I think right now, I just want to curl up on the couch and watch a movie. And I can figure the rest out later.”
Lysandra’s laugh was hearty, breaking through the relative silence of the house. “Now that, I can definitely do.”
- - - - -
She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry.
As she stood in the middle of the airport, locked in an embrace with her favorite cousin, she realized that Aedion, however, was indeed crying.
“I’ll be back soon, I promise.” If her voice gave a few hiccups, well…that was no one else’s business.
“I know. I just–I’m just gonna miss you.” Aedion gave a sigh and stepped back slightly. “I’m gonna miss you a lot.” He wiped the tears that were tracked down his face, not even the least bit ashamed of crying in such a public place.
“I’ll miss you too. But as soon as I get back to Adarlan, I promise that I’ll call and I’ll immediately start looking for jobs and apartments.” Because, yes, she had told her family her plans to move back to Orynth once they returned from the skate night the night prior. Aedion picked her up off the couch, spinning her around. So it was safe to say that he was very excited for her. Lysandra gave her a look that told Aelin she already had a suspicion. And Gavryn was quite literally jumping for joy. Or, he would’ve been had he not been tired out of his mind and immediately started crying. “I so happy,” were the exact words she could make out through his sobs. She rewarded his show of emotion with a bear hug and snuggles until the little man fell asleep in her arms.
“I know you will. But remember that you’re always welcome to stay with us. Especially if it means that you’ll get here sooner.”
Aelin let out a huff of laughter. “I know.”
She gave everyone a last round of hugs, saying her farewells and trying again not to cry. Waving them off, she stepped through security. Though her bags might feel heavier, her heart didn’t. She mended things with Aedion, got an amazing new best friend, and got to meet her nephew, all of which served to put a little ball of light in her chest.
There was still one piece missing, though. The piece that she was able to not obsess over only due to the hectic nature of the morning. Rowan.
She didn’t like how she left things. She was embarrassed to say the least. But she also didn’t have time to pack up her things and also say what she wanted to say. It was one or the other and, unfortunately for her heart, the packing had won out.
It was a regret she would have to live with–not fixing how she left things with Rowan. Maybe when she was back for good, she could try. Try to apologize. Try harder to open up. Try to be the person Rowan deserved.
Gods, she’d known the man a damn week and she was already a blubbering mess over him. This certainly didn’t bode well for her return to Adarlan.
So instead of thinking of all the ways she could’ve mended things, all the things she could’ve said, Aelin decided to get a giant, doughy croissant while she waited to board her flight. The croissant was heaven. It made her almost forget that she was leaving her family all over again. To commiserate, she decided to scroll through pictures on her phone.
Gavryn in his Yulemas jammies.
Gavryn putting the star on the tree.
Gavryn and his ginormous pink teddy bear.
Gods, she loved this kid.
The last picture took her by surprise. She hadn’t even meant to get the second figure in the picture, but he was there nonetheless. Gavryn was sitting at the table in Rowan’s shop, painting his little masterpiece. But leaning against the wall toward the back was a familiar silvery-haired man, watching her nephew with such a soft look on his face, it almost made her want to cry.
She wasn’t about to be a creep and zoom in on the figure in the middle of a crowded airport so she threw her phone in her bag and waited to board her flight. Time passed quickly as she was lost in her thoughts. Before she knew it, she was dragging her carry-on behind her down the aisle.
E, F, G…ah, here it was…row H. H1, the window seat, of course, her favorite.
She was prepared to settle in for a nice nap and one of her favorite playlists when the seat aside of her shuffled with a warm body.
She closed her eyes as she inhaled the familiar pine and snow scent. Home.
With that, her eyes popped open, whipping around to her seat neighbor.
“Rowan?!”
He gave her a sheepish smile.
“Wha–but you–how…what?” Great, she was back to being a bumbling mess.
He chuckled at her fumbling.
“You left without saying goodbye.”
“So you bought an entire PLANE TICKET?!”
Rowan rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, Lysandra said–”
“I fucking knew it. Not a meddler, my ass,” Aelin mumbled.
“In her defense, I stopped by the house, hoping that you were still there and when she told me that you had left already, I was about to turn around and go home.” Rowan pursed his lips. “But then she said that there was an empty seat next to you on your flight home.”
“Lysandra is a certifiable sociopath, I swear.”
“And thank Mala for that. I prayed that I could get here in time. And here I am.”
“Here you are.” Aelin knew her features softened at the vulnerability in his tone.
A moment of silence permeated the air, neither of them knowing what to say.
“Rowan, I–”
“If you’re going to apologize, please don’t.”
“But I–”
Rowan’s warm hands came to cup her face. “Aelin, I get it. I promise.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
He sighed. “Probably something about how you were scared and overwhelmed and it was too much too fast. And I get it, ok? You don’t have to explain it to me, Aelin.”
“Actually, I was going to ask if you brought my requested Yulemas present with you.”
Rowan’s breath left him all at once in a huff. “Smartass.”
Aelin’s face quickly turned somber. “But yes, that is what I was going to say. Somehow you nailed it. Somehow you always nail it.”
Rowan’s thumb stroked her cheek. “I nail it because I get you, Aelin. You might have to put on a show for everyone else, but I see you. We’re so alike and Gods, this is going to sound crazy–”
“Crazier than getting a plane ticket after a week of knowing someone just so you could talk to them?”
“It was that or ask Lysandra for your number and I thought that would’ve been creepier.” The small dimple shone through on his cheek at his smile.
“Finish your sentence, Rowan.” She was surprised at the softness in her tone. Aelin’s eyes met Rowans, silently taking in the different shades of green in his iris.
His smile was shy. “I was going to say that it feels like we were always meant to meet. We understand each other in a way that couldn’t be anything but fate. And if this was anyone else, I would realize how crazy this all sounds. But I’m saying this with the utmost truth.”
Aelin took the hand that was stroking her cheek in her own, bringing it down to hover over her heart. “If it was anyone else, I would tell you how crazy you sound. But you’re Rowan.” She shrugged, as if his name was explanation enough.
“And you’re Fireheart.”
She smiled at that. At the nickname that laid dormant for so long. Rowan using it at that moment felt like a warm hug, like coming home.
“Can I kiss you?” Rowan’s voice was quiet, the hope in his voice threatening to stab her in the heart.
She nodded, tilting her face up toward his.
Gently, oh so gently, the softness of his lips met hers. It was the answer to a question she had been asking for so long. The quenching of a longing that transcended all time and space. It was over before it really began but it was enough. And to know that they now had a six hour flight ahead of them excited her. Just to be in his presence, to hold his hand, to fall asleep on his shoulder excited her.
He slowly drew his face back. “Everyone on this plane will start gossiping if we continue like this.”
She smiled at his cheekiness. “They already are, I reckon.” So she shrugged and pulled him back for one more kiss before settling down for the flight. She had no idea what the future would bring. When she would find an apartment. When she would officially move back. But it was okay because she knew that in coming back to Orynth, she came back to herself.
A/N: thanks for joining me for my first and last fic or 2025 😂 not sure if I’ll keep writing for Rowaelin since it’s sort of died down but maybe?
I know you mentioned ToG dying down, but if you write anything, I'll read it. They are still my favorite!! And your writing is AMAZING! Thank you for the wonderful story!! 😊❤️
I think your kids are lucky to have a parent who both respects their learning capabilities and adjusts to what works for them, and also who has respect for others and reading comprehension. Sorry for the disrespect you received in the comments but, seriously, keep up the good work.
I really appreciate you saying that! After all the hate, I seriously thought I should just delete my comment and move on with my life. We are just trying to do what's best for our kids. So many people missed the main point and that's fine. I just wished I could have explained it better. You reaching out and saying this really means a lot to me!! Thank you so much!! I wish you all the best!! <3
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“Together, Fireheart,” he said, pushing back the sleeve of her tunic. “We’ll find a way together.” He looked up from her exposed wrist. “A court that will change the world,” he promised.
I will always love how obsessed Rowan is with Aelin during kingdom of ash, people are dropping like flies around him and his pov is just "Aelin Aelin Aelin. I love my mate, Aelin. Let me chop this valgs head off real quick. Aelin ❤️🔥"
Idk if this is a popular opinion but the Throne of Glass series is just light years ahead of all of SJM’s other stuff! ACTOAR and the city ones are just unreadable but I re-read TOG every summer bc for all it’s flaws, it’s this rich fantasy world with vivid characters and interweaving narratives that feel distinct and build together in a really beautiful way. Also, the themes are just never not relevant.
I think the writing fell off bc she clocked into the badly-written-smut-shadow-daddies as a profit maker and just leans on that shtick for everything. When you stop thinking about plot and theme and focus on avenues to reach the next sex scene it shows. The writing suffers! And it’s so silly! You can have both! Do both!
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y’all ever read a fanfic that you cannot believe an author just wrote for free?? what an honor it is to read a piece of someone’s soul they shared out of nothing but love for a piece of media. what a privilege it is to be allowed their talent because you share an interest!!
i literally live 10 miles from shitterton and i can confirm that the council had to replace all of their signs with rocks because they kept getting stolen.
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Throne of Glass AU in which Erawan never returns. He stays in the coffin in Morath, bound by the lock forged by Mala. Aelin grows up in Orynth with her family. The King of Adarlan is never taken over by the Valg and is not evil. He and his kingdom are wary of magic wielders though. Maeve is still Valg and still a manipulative, scheming bitch.
Rowan x Aelin eventually. Cannon typical violence. Starts off as Teen, but eventually rating will escalate to Mature.
Masterlist Ao3 link here
Secrets Uncovered
The warehouse apartment was still steeped in chaos when Sorscha arrived. Her healer’s satchel swung from her shoulder as she stepped through the door behind Ress and Brullo, her usually serene face drawn tight with urgency. Chaol came in behind them, his eyes already narrowed, scanning the room for threats—or perhaps just signs of Aelin’s latest destruction.
Aelin didn’t move from Rowan’s side. Still in her Fae form, she crouched over him protectively, one hand braced on his chest. Her golden hair tumbled over her shoulder like a mantle of flame, her eyes fixed on Sorscha with quiet, dangerous intensity.
The moment Sorscha stepped into the apartment, Aelin blocked her path with a sharp glance. "He hasn't woken," Aelin said. Her voice was low, controlled. Dangerous.
Sorscha swallowed. "I'll do what I can. Let me see him," she said gently. Her voice, somehow calm despite the tension, brought Aelin’s gaze to her fully. After a heartbeat, Aelin nodded and shifted aside.
Aelin led her to the bedroom where Rowan lay, unmoving and pale, a faint sheen of sweat along his brow. His breathing was shallow but steady. The arrow had been removed, the wound cleaned, but it was deep, alarmingly close to his heart.
As Sorscha knelt beside him and opened her satchel, Aelin hovered, arms crossed, every movement radiating protectiveness. Her magic simmered just under her skin.
Sorscha worked quickly. She peeled back the blood-soaked tunic and inspected the wound beneath the bandages Aelin had hastily applied. When Sorscha's hands brushed Rowan's bare chest, Aelin's lips curled almost imperceptibly.
"You need to let me work," Sorscha said gently. Aelin gave a single nod, stepping back half a pace but never looking away. The arrowhead had missed Rowan’s heart by inches, but the damage was deep, ragged. The bleeding had slowed, but Fae or not, the injury was serious.
Chaol turned toward Aedion. "What happened?" he demanded.
Aedion kept his voice even. "We were gathering evidence in the Assassin’s Keep. Arobynn confronted Aelin. Rowan was on lookout. He was shot while trying to warn us."
Chaol’s brows shot up. "And then she burned the place down?"
Aelin rose slowly, stepping into the conversation. "I didn’t go there looking to fight. But he attacked me. We were outnumbered. Rowan was nearly killed. I didn’t mean to, I just lost control."
Chaol bristled as he looked her up and down. "You’re in your Fae form. You’re drawing attention, Your Highness. Stirring up panic."
"I’m protecting my people," she snapped. "People who’ve been hunted through these streets like animals. If Arobynn—"
"This is Adarlan!" Chaol snapped. "And now the Keep is gone. Everything has to start over. That building held records we might never recover."
Aelin's voice dropped into a dangerous hush. "You didn’t even know where the Keep was until I arrived. Don’t act like you’ve lost some treasure trove of intel that you never had,” she replied. She couldn’t believe the nerve of him.
“How many more assassins would have been sent after me? And possibly after Dorian? Do you think those leads will protect him once his magic is discovered?" Aelin could feel her fire emerging. It was no longer just simmering.
Chaol glared at her, jaw tight. "You’re interfering where you shouldn’t be. You’re not supposed to be waging your own war in our streets."
Aedion stepped between them, voice like iron. "Enough. You’ve said your piece, Chaol."
With a furious breath, Chaol turned away. "I need to make sure the fire doesn’t spread. You need to leave Rifthold, as soon as Rowan can travel. Otherwise, I’m going to the King. This has gone too far."
He left with Brullo in his wake. Sorscha, however, remained a few minutes longer, Ress staying to accompany her back to the castle. She carefully packed away her supplies and gave Aelin a soft look.
"He’ll recover quickly with his Fae healing. The wound was deep, but the arrow missed anything vital. A miracle from the gods, if you ask me. One inch and it would have been straight into his heart. He needs rest. At least a day or two."
Aelin nodded, swallowing against the knot in her throat.
Sorscha gave her a small smile and patted her arm. "He’s strong."
And then she too left, her presence vanishing down the stairs.
Once the door was closed and silence fell over the warehouse, Aedion turned to Aelin, arms crossed.
“You’re mates.” He said it gently, but firmly.
Aelin looked away.
"You felt it, when he was shot," Aedion said. "You buckled like someone hit you."
Aelin walked back to Rowan’s side and resumed her silent vigil. “It doesn’t matter either way. He’s bound to Maeve. Forever. He’ll have to go back to her.”
Later, when the moon had risen high above the Rifthold rooftops and the city began to sleep beneath its shroud of soot and silence, Aelin remained.
The apartment was dim, only the flicker of a single lantern casting golden shadows across the room. Aelin remained sitting on the bed for a long while, watching Rowan's chest rise and fall. He was still pale, still unconscious, but breathing steady now. She hadn’t shed her Fae form—couldn’t. The scent of ash and blood clung to her, and her magic still crackled beneath her skin like it was waiting for another fight.
She didn’t realize Aedion had stepped away until she heard his footsteps on the stairs, leaving her in silence.
For once, there was no one demanding answers. No fire to extinguish. Just Rowan. Her Rowan. She moved carefully, quietly, and with an almost embarrassed glance at the door—though no one was watching—she lay down atop the blankets beside him, curling in toward his warmth.
His body radiated heat, even in unconsciousness. And his scent—pine and snow—wrapped around her like a balm. Home.
Aelin tucked her head against his shoulder, one hand resting gently on his sternum over the bandages. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “Please be okay.”
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, hers easing with every heartbeat she felt beneath her palm.
She didn’t know when her eyes slipped shut. Only that at last, in the quiet darkness, Aelin Galathynius slept.
~~~~~
Rowan woke to pain.
It clawed its way up from his chest, sharp and insistent, and for a moment he didn’t know where he was—only that something had gone terribly wrong. His breath hitched as he tried to move, and then—
Warmth. A hand.
Not his own.
He blinked against the heavy weight of sleep and pain. The flickering hearth cast low, amber light across the small room. He knew it, vaguely—the apartment above the warehouse. But none of that mattered when his eyes found her.
Aelin.
She was sleeping next to him, surprisingly still in her Fae form, curled up in the narrow bed, her face turned toward him, her golden hair falling in waves across her cheek and shoulder. One hand rested lightly on his chest, just over the wound, as though she could protect him even in sleep.
Her breathing was steady. Calm.
She looked like peace.
He felt anything but.
The last thing he remembered was the arrow slamming into him—then the scent of fire and the taste of her panic in the air. That gut-wrenching sensation in the bond they’d both tried to ignore for weeks now, the one that tethered her pain to his.
Gods, he had felt her magic as the world went black—blazing and frantic and raw. Had felt her reach for him through it.
Rowan swallowed hard, wincing.
She’d stayed. That alone should have steadied him.
But it only twisted the knife.
He shifted slightly, careful not to jostle her. Her fingers flexed at the motion but it didn’t wake her. She sighed in her sleep, her brow twitching. He knew her well enough to know that even in rest, she didn’t find true ease.
Not when the weight of the world was still squarely on her shoulders.
The bond between them pulsed softly—an ember barely glowing. Still alive, though they refused to speak of it. Still there, no matter how many times they danced around the truth of what they were to each other.
He reached out slowly, brushing a knuckle across her cheek.
“Mala help me,” he whispered.
He didn’t mean with the wound.
He meant her. This impossible, reckless princess who both infuriated and anchored him. Who’d burrowed into the heart he’d long since closed off and refused to leave.
She murmured something in her sleep, shifting closer, her hand sliding more fully over the scarred muscles of his chest. He tensed, then forced himself to stay still.
He wasn’t ready for this. For what came after. For what it meant that she’d lain down next to him, with all the fury and terror of that night behind her, and still chose this bed. Chose him.
And yet—he didn’t move away.
Couldn’t.
Not when the scent of her fire wove around him. Not when her magic whispered across his skin, familiar and painful and everything he didn’t know how to ask for.
Tomorrow, they’d have to leave. Tomorrow, they’d face the consequences.
But tonight… he let himself watch her sleep, as the ache in his chest became something entirely different.
Something terrifying.
~~~~~
Rowan woke late the next morning.
Aelin was seated beside him on the bed when he stirred, and Aedion stood at the window. The minute Aelin heard Rowan move, she turned.
Rowan blinked at them. “How long was I out?”
Aelin stood and stretched, yawning. “Two days.”
His brow furrowed. “And the Keep?”
“Food and water first,” Aelin said, walking out and returning a few minutes later with a glass of water and some breakfast. Aelin lifted the water to his lips. He swatted her hand away, grasping the glass himself and wincing as he did so.
“Just stop being an insufferable brute and let me help you, Rowan,” she said, swatting him back.
Aelin then proceeded to feed Rowan breakfast, bite by bite, Aedion watching for a moment before smirking and walking out. Rowan couldn’t help but notice the roughness of her calloused fingers as they brushed across his lips. And when she finally looked up at him, her turquoise and gold eyes meeting his gaze, his heart nearly stopped in his chest.
Thankfully Aelin had shifted back into her human form. She wouldn’t be able to sense the subtle physiological changes in his body that only Fae senses could detect.
Mala help him, he was in such deep, unending shit.
He wanted her. Badly. Wanted to ravish her wholly. He supposed Mala had answered his prayer, since presently he could barely move from the pain.
Somehow he made it through Aelin feeding him breakfast. She left to bring the dishes to the kitchen and he took the time alone to take a few deep breaths and try to calm his racing heart.
She murmured briefly to Aedion, and a few minutes later they both returned and filled him in on their escape from the Keep, the documents they’d gathered, the confrontation with Arobynn.
“The Keep is gone,” Aedion said with a faint grin. “You should’ve seen her. She lit it up like a solstice bonfire.”
Aelin grimaced.
Rowan wondered what had happened that had brought about Aelin’s shifting and fire. She still could not shift on command, which meant that she must have felt mortally threatened. Arobynn.
Then Aedion told Rowan about the healer, Sorscha, who was apparently Prince Dorian’s lover, and the meeting with Chaol.
Rowan’s lip curled faintly. “Let me guess. He was grateful and gracious.”
Aelin let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, so gracious.” She held the glass of water so that he could drink. Rowan tried to
He accused me of interfering in Adarlan’s affairs and stirring up trouble. Said the fire set their investigation back.”
“And he bristled like a slapped cat when he saw her in her Fae form,” Aedion added, smirking. “Didn’t like that one bit.”
“He’s worried,” Aelin said, more carefully. “He’s still loyal to Dorian, and he’s doing what he thinks is best. But... he’s also blind to how much bigger this is than just Rifthold.”
They stayed for one more night, Aelin sleeping beside him in bed again. She had insisted she wouldn’t be able to sleep if she was worried he might need something.
The next morning they packed before dawn.
The warehouse had become a danger—not just a place of shelter and strategy, but a beacon for trouble. The assassin's keep smoldering in ruins had sent a message louder than any whispered rumor. Their presence in Rifthold was known, their mission exposed. Aelin could feel it in her bones, in the tension that lingered behind each movement, in the way Rowan's hand always hovered near his blade even in sleep.
Rowan moved slowly, carefully, still pale from the wound that had nearly killed him. But he was upright, armored, and as dangerous-looking as ever despite the faint stiffness in his movements.
Aedion watched him closely, jaw tight. “You shouldn’t be on your feet yet.”
Rowan raised a brow. “Try stopping me.”
Aelin, cloaked and armed, stood between them. “We don’t have a choice,” she said. “The longer we wait, the more likely it is that the assassins regroup and retaliate. We need to move.”
They agreed on a route out of the city—one that would keep them away from guards and known assassins' routes. Once beyond the Rifthold borders, they would no longer need stealth. They would sleep in inns, travel by less grueling roads. Aelin wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.
The morning passed in silence, broken only by the clatter of hooves and the rustle of cloaks as they rode out. Lysandra and Gavriel had departed nights before. They should easily be back within Terrasen’s borders by now. The warehouse—now empty—was left behind like a discarded skin.
As the city shrank in the distance behind them, Aedion rode up beside her.
“We need to talk about him,” he said.
Aelin glanced at Rowan ahead of them, his cloak billowing in the wind. “What about him?”
“There are diplomatic consequences,” he continued. “Whether you acknowledge it or not. This isn’t just personal, Aelin. You’re a crown princess. You will be a queen of the realm. Every tie you make—every alliance you form—ripples beyond you. If you let this fester without dealing with it—without claiming it—”
“I know, but--” she said quietly. “I don’t know what to do. Regardless of my personal feelings, there are very few ways this doesn’t end in war with Doranelle. And I can’t--”
“It’s okay, Aelin,” he said. “I understand that it’s complicated. I don’t want to burden you. Just know I’m here for you. For anything.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Aedion.”
“Does he know?” Aedion asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied.
“That might be a good place to start,” he suggested.
He didn’t press her further. Not that day.
By the time they crossed the border into Terrasen, the sun had begun its descent and the air had cooled with early signs of autumn. They stopped in Perranth, in the warm, well-guarded manor of the Lochans. Warm meals. Clean beds. No ghosts in the shadows.
For the first time in weeks, Aelin let herself breathe.
Elide
The Princess and her two companions spent a few days recovering. Prince Rowan needed rest to recover from an injury. Elide didn’t fail to notice the way Aelin remained close to him—hovering in the shadows of his healing, guarding him with wordless devotion. Interesting.
Elide arranged a messenger to send word to the King and Queen of the group’s whereabouts, and plans to return to Orynth the following week.
Elide brought them tea one afternoon and stayed to help go through some documents Aelin had retrieved from the ruins of the Assassin's Keep. Names, numbers, codes. Payments. Orders.
The sun streamed in through the tall windows of her family’s sitting room, casting a golden hue across the weathered documents spread out across the long table. Aelin leaned over a parchment, brows drawn, while Aedion muttered curses under his breath at the crumbling ink on another page. Rowan sat nearby, reviewing lists of transactions and coded correspondence.
And Elide… Elide barely said a word.
She sat on the floor, legs tucked beneath her, a short stack of ledgers and letters balanced on her lap. Her dark eyes moved slowly, carefully, absorbing every mark. Her fingers trailed lines of cramped handwriting with quiet precision, lips pursed as she murmured names and dates under her breath.
No one noticed when she stilled. When she sat up a little straighter.
The page in her lap bore a list of aliases, trade routes, and coded symbols beside each name—so easily overlooked as the usual cloak-and-dagger nonsense from the Guild. But Elide had seen these symbols before. Once, in a diplomatic record her Uncle Vernon had hidden away. The same odd motif—a winged serpent curled around a sword.
Melisande.
Her heart beat faster, but she kept her voice steady when she spoke. “This name—L. Bardingale. It appears three times in three separate ledgers, always linked to different Guild payments.”
Aelin looked up. “So?”
Elide lifted another document, this one with the crest of a merchant company burned into the top corner. The company crest belonged to one of the most powerful merchants in Melisande, Benzo Doneval. “And here—this list of cargo. It came through ports only accessible to high-tier nobles or royal family members. There’s only one Doneval with that kind of access in Melisande.”
Rowan raised a brow, leaning forward. “Are you saying Melisande’s royal family is funding Guild operations?”
“I’m saying,” Elide said carefully, “that someone with close ties to the Queen of Melisande is either moving funds through aliases or shielding those who are. This alias—L. Bardingale—matches the initials of Leighfer Bardingale, who until recently was married to Benzo Doneval. Bardingale is a good friend of the Queen of Melisande.”
Aedion let out a low whistle. “That’s a hell of a reach, Elide.”
“Maybe,” she said softly. “But the handwriting on these ledgers matches a note I read from Doneval once when I worked for Vernon. And the symbols… I know them. He used them to mark which parcels could bypass inspections.”
They were all silent.
Aelin slowly pushed back from the table. “You’re saying this woman—Bardingale—might be behind some of the money that funded my assassination attempt?”
“I’m saying,” Elide replied, voice steady, “she’s the only name here that fits all the pieces. And if I’m right… then this wasn’t just a Guild hit. This might have been political.”
Rowan let out a long breath. “And Melisande has always eyed Terrasen’s northern ports.”
Aelin nodded slowly. “And they sent spies to Orynth when I was little, to assess whether I would be a threat to the Queen one day. If this is true… then this war’s already begun. Just in shadows instead of swords.”
Elide didn’t smile. She didn’t gloat.
She simply returned to her papers, eyes sharper than ever.
hiiii, if anyone's seeing this post— five years later, I'm here once again to offer my services as a fanfiction writer. I'm aware that a lot of my previous readers are no longer active, and the fandoms I used to write for may have gone inactive, and the demand for fanfiction decreased but if anyone's still interested, here are the fandoms I've written for before:
A Court of Thorns & Roses (not really tho, tbh)
Throne Of Glass
The Crown Prince
And the new ones:
Pride and Prejudice
The Vampire Diaries
Be it oneshots, long fics, anything else, I don't need validation; just tell me if anyone's still reading fanfics for any of these fandoms.
If anyone wants to be added to the tag list for any of these fandoms, please let me know! I'm adding my old taglists to ask in case any of you are interested as well.
kianamaiart
blakekathryn
jacobvanloon
theartofmadeline
turnnoffyourmind
discoholicmusic
andulkaphoto
