Fell Back Into Throne Of Glass

Aelin sat nestled under Rowan’s arm, both of them waiting at 6:58 p.m. in that forgotten temple. The sun was setting in different hues of blue and orange past crumbled walls, and her lover’s fingers combing through her hair were the only reassuring thing that day; they said, I’m here. I’m here for you.

The rejection of her marriage proposal wasn’t taken to heart—marrying Rowan right now would be a mean to an end, that being living on her own terms. It didn’t surprise her that he didn’t want that for himself.

What did surprise her is that, after all that, he still agreed to fight her suitors. Just because I’m not getting engaged to you this month, it doesn’t mean that I want other dudes to, he previously explained, and there he was: waiting for Chaol and Dorian to show up. After scolding Fenrys for making duel propositions on his behalf, of course, but he was still here at the end of the day.

“So…” Dorian trailed, announcing himself, and beelined his way to them by dodging the temple’s ruins. “How many people did Rowan propose a duel to?”

“Gods.” Chaol coughed, keeping some distance behind Dorian. “I better not die in this shithole.”

Aelin grimaced, just now remembering his allergies—between ancient stones and the moss-covered floor, things weren’t looking good for him.

“Evening, suitors.” Fenrys paced before what was supposed to be the altar, hands clasped behind his back. “As an unofficial coordinator of Aelin’s courtship, I arranged this—“

“I thought it was Rowan’s idea,” Dorian interrupted.

“Rowan challenged you two on a thruel.”

“A what?” Rowan asked.

“A thruel.” The “coordinator” sighed. “A duel of three.”

Chaol frowned. “How does that work—“

“Perfect.” Rowan slapped both hands on his thighs to get up. “Swords or guns?”

Her lips parted slightly. So he knew his way around a sword and a gun both. That’s… fuck, that’s definitely hot.

Fenrys had a devilish grin on. “Guns.”

“But right now?” Chaol looked around, seeking reassurance. “We don’t want to frighten Aelin, right?”

“Don’t worry,” Aelin said, moving to find a better sight of the whole temple. “Aelin isn’t frightened at all.”

None of the men seemed excited about the thruel, but they stood still, waiting for Fenrys to retrieve the guns. Between her three suitors, her bodyguard gave each an odd-looking gun. Aelin squinted her eyes as an attempt to get a better look, make sense of their bulkier build and little kidney-looking black thingy on top. Then he pulled out a bulletproof vest of sorts, but it looked so flimsy.

Wait a second.

“We’re choosing my future husband over paintball?” Aelin shrieked, incredulous.

Not that she was actually marrying any of them, but she had to play the part here.

“Yes,” Fenrys said, eyes hard. “It is an act of bravery, since it bruises like a bitch, and the last thing I need is a prince and a lord dying on my watch.”

“Or two princes,” Chaol added.

Rowan snorted, barely managing to keep his thoughts to himself.

After Fenrys revealed the true nature of the thruel, her suitors had a new lightness on the way they carried themselves, each finding a spot behind the ruins so the game could start.

Dorian even winked at Fenrys, and Aelin had yet to find out what that was about. By the way Chaol’s jaw clenched as he watched, the thruel was heated before it even started.

“Game on!” their designated referee signed.

With cautious advances, Chaol focused on Dorian. The other man did the same, so keen on attacking each other that they seemed to forget that this was a duel of three.

Rowan, who hadn’t moved an inch, sent Fenrys a confused look. A shrug was the only response he got.

Chaol ran to a nearer pillar, firing off a series of shots before he slid into cover again.

“Shoot me!” Dorian shouted, got up from behind his cover, and theatrically threw his gun on the floor. “What’s a paintball bruise compared to what you did to me?”

“What I did to you?” Chaol’s gaze slid from Dorian to Fenrys. Uh-oh. He continued, “You think I should be sorry? Well, I am! I really am sorry I was so hooked on you it upended my entire life—“

“But we were so close!” Dorian said. “I was fighting for you, and I was this close to convincing my mother about our worthiness when I found out about this… ploy to marry Aelin. Seriously, Chaol? My best friend?”

“Oh!” The lord let out an incredulous laugh. “I’m sorry, I thought I was your best friend!”

“You might’ve been in the past, but I don’t love you like a best friend anymore!”

Chaol’s face softened. “You love me?”

The two went on, too wrapped up to notice Aelin leaning closer to Fenrys and whispering, “Should we give them some privacy?”

“Nah.” A pause so her friend could catch on part of their dialogue. “I’m too curious about why they were chasing you.”

Aelin thought it was out of parental pressure like in her case, which probably happened with them too, but it seemed to be also to affect each other. She met Rowan’s gaze from the other side of the temple, and the poor guy looked lost, still in his thruel position.

Dorian soon caught up on his lack of privacy and led Chaol out of the temple so they could talk more, and only then Rowan left his spot behind a ruin. “Did I win?”

Aelin sighed, a fake wondrous look on her face. “My hero,” she joked.

He laughed and tugged her to him, trailing pecks from her face down her neck.

“You won the last round,” Aelin admitted before picking up Dorian’s gun from the floor. “Wanna lose the next one?”

His eyes glinted with amusement. “Do you want to lose it?”

They had been on dates—as much as a hard-working outcast prince and a sheltered heiress could within the span of twelve days—but none of them were as interesting as paintball at an abandoned temple.

“Hey!” Fenrys shouted, running their way. “I wanna play too!”

A/N: i can’t believe that it's finally me and you and you and me just us and your friend Steve DODODODODODODO STEVE

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Fenrys’ POV

Chaol’s face looked surprisingly welcoming when Fenrys entered his bedroom’s antechamber.

“You have news from Aelin?”

Fenrys’ eyes sparkled. Straight to the point, as he liked it. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Did she like the gifts?”

“Well…” he picked on his nails, feigning nonchalance. “Her favorite one was a Cartier bracelet.”

“Interesting.” Chaol tilted his head, curious. “I don’t remember her following Cartier on Instagram in the research I did.”

He shrugged. “This just means someone else knows her better.”

“Your point is?”

“My point is that Aelin’s confused to why you agreed to this,” Fenrys lied. His point was actually to send these boys running, but he’d only ruin his agenda by disclosing it. “You either don’t want this, or you were definitely quick to forget about Dorian,” Fenrys not-so-subtly mentioned their scandalous affair.

The man’s face turned somber. “He was quick to forget about me too, wasn’t he?

“Wow.” Fenrys leaned on the wall, carefully trying to pick up on his cues. “So Aelin’s the next best thing, or you’re just trying to get to Dorian by chasing her?”

His jaw tightened. “Are you usually this indiscreet with people like me?”

“Not with people like you, no.” Fenrys looked at Chaol up and down, unafraid. “I’m more used to royal families, I didn’t know lords were so… touchy.”

If someone questioned him, Fenrys was just doing his job—protecting Aelin. She was currently being chased, without her consent, by two boys who, from the looks of it, were willing to marry this girl they couldn’t handle for a month when she was eighteen. Idiots, both of them.

Chaol sat on an armchair, legs crossed, but those tight eyes and flat lips failed to hide his anger. “I still don’t know why you’re here.”

To scare him away, though Fenrys was failing at that miserably. He scrambled his head for a new tactic.

“I…” he trailed, trying to buy some time. “The gifts.” Fenrys cleared his throat. “Aelin liked the Cartier bracelet better. You’re losing the gift battle.”

“And?”

“You’re actually my favorite in the courtship run, you know—“

“That’s hard to believe—“

“Shh. You are,” Fenrys lied, “I’m rooting for you. That’s why I’m suggesting you a new way to get her back, since you used to date.”

Chaol leaned back on his chair, finally interested. “Do tell.”

“Aelin likes her men with balls.”

“You don’t say.”

Fenrys narrowed his eyes at him. “Not literally.”

“What do you mean, then?”

“You could prove yourself to her in a duel.”

He’d face Dorian at the duel and give up on killing the man he loves. The shame of his surrender would send him flying back to Anielle. It was perfect. Fenrys came up with it in half a second, but it was flawless.

“A duel?! Isn’t the arranged marriage outdated enough?”

“She likes period romances.” Fenrys shrugged. “It’s the fastest way to her heart.”

“Nope.” Chaol got up, paced around his room for a second with both fists on his hands. “I’m not battling against Dorian. Not like this.”

Oh, fuck. Fenrys crossed his arms, keeping a smirk to hide his struggle. Think of something, think of something, think of something—

“Who told you the Cartier bracelet was from Dorian?”

It was, but Chaol didn’t need to know this.

The man’s eyes went wide. “Rowan,” he said in a pensive tone, low with realization. He paced a little more, frowning.

“A duel, really? That’s your best guess?”

Fenrys tsked, as if this was such a naïve question. “Do you know how often she rereads that Bridgerton book with the duel scene?”

“How often?”

“Often.”

Well, she did like Bridgerton, but Fenrys knew nothing about the series or if it had duel scenes. He was sure Chaol didn’t know either.

“Very well, then.” The man swallowed, not meeting the other’s eye. “Tell Rowan I’ll see him on Thursday at 7pm.”

˜˜

“At Mala’s abandoned temple by the Florine?” Dorian asked, fiddling with his handcuffs at his own bedroom antechamber.

Fenrys gave him a curt nod, glad that he found the prince at a time no one was close to hear. “Rowan will meet you there.”

Now, it was time to tell Rowan about the two duels he had queued up.

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Rowan’s POV

“YOU SAID WHAT?” Fenrys screeched in Rowan’s kitchen, a bruschetta halfway into his mouth.

He shrugged. “I said no. I’ve known her for a week, Fen.”

His friend put his food back on the plate, eyebrows raised at him. “You don’t think she’s marriageable?”

“She’s very marriageable,” Rowan defended himself, two hands up in surrender. It was curious how protective Fenrys was of Aelin, so he asked, “Do you think she’s marriageable?”

“Very much, yes.”

Interesting. “Do you wish you were one of her suitors, Fen?”

He snorted. “Fuck, no. I mean, she’s great, but I’m not in love with her or anything like that.”

“My point exactly.”

Yes, Rowan would love to get to know her better and see where it goes, but he’s not marrying Aelin after knowing her for a week. Especially not after finally fleeing from his royal duties.

“Bullshit.” Fenrys had a shit-eating grin on. “You’re half in love with her already.”

Lies. Rowan was approximately one-fourth in love with her. Half in love was too much for a week. Aelin was incredible, and she definitely fucked him like he expected his future wife to do, but it was too much too soon.

He wanted to get to know her better, wait until the thought of not having her by his side was absolutely unbearable; then, he could see himself popping the question. Not in a storage closet, and out of a sweeter sort of desperation.

Rowan liked her—way too much. It was even safe to say that he was smitten, as much as he hated this word. But apart from a title he barely had, Rhoe also wanted an amount of money invested in Gala Airlines that Rowan definitely didn’t have.

He wasn’t a proper suitor, he didn’t feel ready to marry her so soon, but if he let this go, he’d lose her—it’d be torture to fall in love with someone else’s wife.

After objectively explaining his thoughts on the matter to Fenrys, the man sighed as if he carried the world on his shoulders.

“Fucking Mala, do I have to do everything around here?!”

Rowan tilted his head, trying to understand his friend’s distress. “What—“

Fenrys held up a hand to shut him up, halfway out the kitchen already. “Just leave it with me.”

˜˜

Fenrys’ POV

The next day, Fenrys got to work to a full desk of poorly-wrapped gifts.

He called his co-worker instantly. “Seriously, Lor?”

Lorcan grunted, already knowing what this is about. “Not my job, Pup.”

He groaned, getting to work before work even started. Every single one of Aelin’s packages were to be checked before sent to her, but would it kill Lorcan to re-wrap the gifts nicely? You don’t send a half-closed Louboutin shoebox because you won’t bother to fit the shoes back in nicely, for Mala’s sake.

Fenrys works like a dog day and night, and does everyone ever recognize it? Absolutely not. His coworkers thought he had it easy because he let Aelin do things she wasn’t supposed to. As if. Guarding her regularly was hard, but imagine trying to protect a heiress gone rogue.

While he worked on the gifts, Fenrys did a little inspection to check which ones she’d like, and which ones would give her the ick. He removed the cards from the few ones that would certainly be her favorites.

Brimmed with designer bags, he managed the stairs to Aelin’s room, but had to knock on the door with his feet. “A package awaits your reception, Your Highness!”

When Aelin opened the door, her smile faltered as she notices the gifts—or who they were from. She opened one by one before asking, “The ones without the name tag?”

He grinned. “You’ll have to guess, Princess.”

From the way her eyes lit up, Fenrys made a mental note to slap Rowan later. He was penniless, yes, but he needed to up his game asap.

Fenrys cleared his throat. “I won’t be available for brunch today, but I’m sure Lorcan will love to gossip over macarons with you,” he joked.

“Oh.” Aelin frowned. “What’re you up to?”

“Just something I need to fix.”

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“You really are a prince, aren’t you?” Aelin whispered to Rowan while ushering him out of the party.

“Technically, yes, but not really.”

“How does that work?”

“It works really well after some family drama with a tabloid-obsessed aunt.”

Dodging her father’s acquaintances was easier than avoiding his men’s questioning looks. Well, that’s what happens when her father told a bunch of big guys that they’re entitled to every detail of her life: they believed it. But they wouldn’t cause a scene if she didn’t either, and that’s how she was able to move through the crowd effortlessly with a man that wasn’t one of her suitors.

“Where’re you going?” Lorcan hissed, one of her Rhoe’s most trusted and least subtle men.

“Out!” Aelin barked while dragging Rowan out the main doors. But the man’s eyes weren’t on her, and something dawned on her. He was the one who came with Fenrys from Doranelle, wasn’t he? Was he friends with Rowan too, or just acquaintances?

Out of the main venue, Aelin found a storage closet of sorts and shoved Rowan in it, locking herself inside with him.

He sighed, taking in the tiny room. “I didn’t know you liked it tawdry.”

She crossed her arms. “You were talking about family drama and tabloids.”

“When we texted last night, I thought you’d want my mouth for entirely different reasons.”

“Well, I—“

Aelin was silenced by his hand holding onto the back of her neck, tilting her head toward his.

He raised a brow in question. *What do you want?* he seemed to ask.

Well, fuck. This was such a cheap trick, but she could Google her answers later to figure it out. Neck-grabbing with those rough hands? Not so easy to do on her own.

Aelin closed the distance between them, and their hands found each other’s bodies like magnets. Rowan’s kisses were rough and hungry; when he backed her against a shelving unit and sneaked a hand up her thigh, Aelin grasped how thoroughly ravished she was about to be.

She lost sight of her initial goal completely.

˜˜

Rowan had one hand on her waist and another using the shelf to hold himself upright. They were both panting, breaths mingling in that near claustrophobic closet.

He grabbed a few napkins behind her to dispose of the condom, and that was her cut to fix her hair and smooth down her dress.

“Can you—“ Aelin was brutally interrupted by a kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

She peeked out the door. The only person close by was Lorcan, looking grumpier than ever.

“Psst!” she called him. “Yes, c’mere.”

“You missed dinner.”

“Your friend didn’t.” Aelin smirked with the memory. Him kneeling before her, face between her thighs, was definitely something. “What time is it?”

Aelin had no way of knowing—she didn’t have her phone with her, and Rowan would do anything to avoid their conversation.

“Late.”

“But is it too late?”

The man gave her a hard look, and it was all she needed to know—no, it wasn’t too late, but she should get back to the party before her dad notices it and incites chaos. Still, she got back to the storage closet and locked the door again.

“Round two so soon?”

Aelin crossed her arms. “Family drama and tabloids. Spill.”

“You’re not unlocking that door until I tell you, I take it?”

“Absolutely not.”

Rowan sighed, but conceded. Then, he went on about how much he disagreed with Queen Maeve’s contrarian policies, and the rupture it created between him and his family. About how he left Doranelle without looking back, and only remained as a prince in name, since the royal family wouldn’t rescind his title for the media havoc it’d cause—even if he wasn’t so much in the public eye.

Prompted by Aelin, he told her about how he found a remote job with his engineering degree and traveled the world with no royal privileges and no money—for a prince’s standards, at least—, met people who weren’t royals or billionaires. How he lived his life with no constraints.

She liked it. She wanted it. To live freely, to travel without a team of bodyguards who reported everything to her father, to be able to drive on her own.

Just like that, Aelin saw a new plan unfold right before her eyes.

Moving from her father’s highly-guarded mansion to Dorian’s or Chaol’s castle with a different set of guards was just trading one pair of shackles for another.

But Rowan… she could live like him. She could live with him—anywhere and everywhere, like he’s been living so far. Rhoe could be so blinded by her having a royal title he’d forget that her groom was penniless. Rowan didn’t sound like the type to hold her down, he sounded like the type who would let her live her own life, or even give her a divorce if she truly desired it, no politics involved.

She’d keep her money and her relationship with her father, but also have freedom. It was perfect. It was her best plan so far.

“Rowan…” she trailed, uncertain of his reaction to her next words. “Will you marry me?”

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The wind in Aelin’s hair brought a rare sense of freedom, and it only got better the more she picked up speed. Tipping her head back, she felt weightless in this quaint little avenue—

“You’re supposed to be watching the road!” Fenrys shouted in the passenger’s seat. He was usually much cooler than this, but her favorite Personal Protection Officer was being handsomely paid to ensure not only her safety, but her dad’s convertible’s too.

“I’m feeling the road, Fen!” Aelin said, head tipped back into the tangled mess her hair became in this drive.

“That’s not— Fuck. We’re here!”

She slammed her foot on the breaks, tires screeching while their bodies were thrown forward. The force in which the seatbelt pressed against her collarbone was near bruising, but Aelin was laughing when the car stopped.

“How did I do?”

Fenrys threw his head back, cackling. “Fucking awful, Princess.”

Aelin’s father never allowed her to have driving lessons because he believes it’s an unnecessary waste of her time. Now, at the ripe age of 21, she finally convinced one of her babysitters to cross Rhoe’s orders, and her skills were getting less lethal each day.

Out of the car, she waited for Fenrys to parallel park—the spot was small, and Aelin was still getting the hang of it—and took in the charming residential street. An array of colorful little houses facing a park. It was Orynth in June, so the cool breeze brought the freshness of blooming trees, the late morning sunlight burning into Aelin’s skin and feeding into her soul, much like the flowering scene around her. Her bodyguard mentioned to a white and green house with a tiny but well-kept garden up front.

When Fenrys said they’d meet his secret tech guy, she expected something a lot more sketchy than this.

He said a few things to a camera by the front door, and it automatically opened. Um, rude? She didn’t expect a butler, but even in mafia movies there’s someone to answer the door.

After locking the front door and going through the living room, Fenrys led her into another one, and the amount of screens was far from being the most surprising thing.

“Rowie Bowie!” the bodyguard called, arms up, happy to greet his friend.

The mysterious man looked up, and it knocked Aelin’s breath out of her lungs. Holy rutting Mala. When Fen told her about this ‘grumpy tech guy’, she expected a weird-looking smelly nerd, not a scary-looking tattooed hottie. She immediately straightened, one hand subtly attempting to realign the bird’s nest that her hair became after the drive.

“Don’t bother,” scary-looking tattooed hottie said, piercing green eyes briefly assessing her before they were back on the screen. “You look pretty disheveled like this.” And he smirked. Her poor panties.

“So…” she trailed, leaning on the nearest desk. Smooth. Be smooth. “Rowie—“

“Please, don’t call me that.”

“It’s Rowan,” Fenrys added, “But Rowie is much better.”

He rolled his eyes. “Absolutely not—“

“Rowan.” Aelin cleared her throat. “Did you get past the security system?”

Of her own house, she meant. Her father was strict, so it was easier to get an illicit second phone than to get past all the monitoring her official phone was under. But Aelin had just bought a new iPhone, which meant she needed someone to make this phone fly under her dad’s radar—Mala forbid if someone finds an undetected wireless device within the walls of her mansion.

“All six of them, yes.”

“SIX?” Fenrys’ eyes were wide, caught by surprise.

“Yes,” Rowan replied, “Wireless detectors, frequency scanners, NLJDs, all six of them. And my job would be a lot easier if you knew your own workplace before hiring me.”

Poor Fen. His main job was to guard Aelin, he never got into the thick of Rhoe’s security system.

Rowan extended the new phone towards her, but took it back when she reached out. “I took the liberty to download something to get around your…” a small wince. “security cameras. You can crop some previously-recorded footage make make it look like it’s live. You’ll see it in the tutorial.”

How sweet of him. Aelin smiled. “You didn’t need to, but thanks.”

Her dad had security cameras installed in her bedroom—not in her closet or bathroom, but it was still annoying. Lorcan, one of her father’s men, was in charge of it, but Aelin terrorized the guy out of watching her footage. After a stunt she pulled a year ago, it’d take a nuclear explosion to get him to check the cameras on her bedroom.

“How much was it again?” Fenrys asked, his eyes widening when he saw the price, then complained, “That’s not what we settled for.”

“Agreed.” Rowan’s eyes, aimed at the bodyguard, were hard as steel. “You made my work sound much simpler than it actually was.”

She frowned. “How much is it?”

Fenrys sent her an apologetic look. “Half the Hermès we were buying after this.”

It’s not that money was a problem for Aelin, but her access to it was rather bureaucratic. She couldn’t go out, spend money on a “shopping spree”, and come back without shopping bags.

She waved him off. “What’s the point of getting a new purse if I don’t have a phone to put in it?”

Still upset, Fen turned around to focus on the payment. With his back to her, Aelin got closer to Rowan, both hands on his desk.

“I might have some trouble with this new setup on my phone,” Aelin lied.“So, I was wondering if you could give me your number, in case I have any questions.”

“Sure.” Rowan’s eyes sparkled, not leaving Aelin’s as he got her phone back. “Anything else?”

“Actually, yes.” She tilted her head, a fake helpless look from under her lashes. “I’m not as good with online instructions, so you might need to come find me sometime.”

The dark look Rowan gave her sent a shiver down her spine. “Let’s say I do. Does your guard dog come in the package deal?”

Aelin smirked, not bothering to keep up with the naïve facade anymore. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

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