#rowaelin

The light that spilt through the open windows of the royal suite was warm and golden, filtered by sheer white curtains and the soft hush of early morning in the palace. Dawn had barely broken, and already your eyes were open. 

You were pressed between two bodies, far too warm and far too unwilling to let you leave. Aelin was curling into your front, her leg hooked over your hip, face buried in your neck. Rowan was at your back, his arm heavy over your waist, his breath soft and even as it ghosted along your skin.

It was quiet. Peaceful. And entirely dangerous.

You had ten, maybe fifteen minutes to get everything in order before the palace staff expected to see the head maid in presentable order. You were expected to look immaculate and to appear behind the Queen’s shoulder like a shadow, composed and unreadable.

Not like someone who had spent the night tangled in their sheets, kissed breathless and worshipped.

You slowly and carefully slipped from between them.

Aelin groaned the moment she sensed your absence. “No. No, come back.”

“I can’t,” you whispered, already crossing the room. “Your breakfast is in forty minutes, and you’re not even bathed.”

“You can bathe me,” Aelin purred from the sheets, sitting up and looking as effortlessly beautiful as ever with golden spirals of hair curling over her bare shoulders.

You sent her a look over your shoulder as you slipped behind the folding screen, trying not to be distracted by her beauty. “That’s the problem, your majesty.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Within ten minutes, you were fully dressed. A deep forest green gown lined with gold thread, your hair left in its natural state, simply petted down to look presentable. You looked regal enough to stand beside a queen without drawing too much attention, yet invisible enough to be passed off as any other servant if someone looked too closely.

You pressed cool water to your cheeks, steadying yourself. There was no time to ache for them. You had work to do.

By the time you returned to the bed, Aelin was sprawled on top of the covers like a lazy cat, one bare leg hanging off the edge, the golden shift she wears to bed hardly covering her backside. She smirked as you approached with a robe.

“Come to kiss me good morning, darling?”

“Come to drag your arse into the bath, more like,” you replied sweetly, tossing the robe onto the bed.

Aelin sat up with a groan, letting the sheets fall to her waist. Her breathtaking eyes were sleepy and yet wicked. “You’re no fun when you’re professional.”

You tried to keep your expression composed as you helped her stand, wrapping the robe around her shoulders and guiding her into the adjoining bathing chamber.

“I am very fun when I'm not trying to keep your entire court from gossiping about the fact that their queen has her maid in her bed,” you said dryly. 

Aelin only laughed, and the sound echoed off the marble walls.

The bath was already dawn, deep and steaming, infused with floral oils and herbs you’d placed there to steep from the night before.

Aelin stepped in with a sigh, and you knelt at the edge, sleeves rolled up as you washed her hair, careful and practised with deep massages into her scalp until she was mewling obscenely. 

She leaned back against the tub and watched you with open admiration. 

“Do you have to be so good at this?” she murmured with tired eyes.

“It’s literally my job.”

“No, your job is to drive me insane by looking like that and pretending you’re not mine.”

Your cheeks heated, fingers hesitating in her hair. Aelin smirked, “Did I say stop?”

You resumed your work, focusing on the strands between your fingers, even as Aelin’s foot slid along the edge of the tub, offering you a glimpse between her legs.

“Stop it,” you warned, but there was no heat to it.

“Make me.”

She reached for your hand, pressed a kiss to your palm, and your breath caught.

The door opened behind you.

“She’s misbehaving again, isn’t she?” Rowan’s voice was amused, gravelly and smoky first thing in the morning. 

You didn’t turn; you were too focused on keeping your face composed as you reached for the oils.

“She’s refusing to let me get her ready,” you said primly.

“I am tempting her,” Aelin corrected, eyes sparkling. 

Rowan chuckled, and you could hear the sounds of his boots crossing the chamber. A moment later, his presence was at your back, warm and solid. You shivered when he brushed his fingers over your wrist.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered lowly against the shell of your ear.

You swallowed. “So do you. Now sit. I need to braid your hair.”

“I already–”, you turned just as he sank gracefully into the armchair near the vanity, a soft towel slung around his waist. Washed my hair. I’m all ready for you; you always do it better than I do.”

Rowan raised a brow, green eyes gleaming as he reached for a brush. “You usually do it.”

You sigh, mostly at yourself, and cross over, accepting the brush from his hand. He sat patiently, back straight, bare shoulders relaxed beneath your touch as you began to comb through his damn hair. As much as Rowan was a strong, independent male, the moment he sees your fingers caressing Aelins hair, he becomes jealous and comes up with any excuse to take her place.

Behind you, Aelinstretched in the bath, watching the two of you with a knowing smile. “You two look disgustingly domestic.”

“You’re just jealous she’s not braiding your hair right now,” Rowan grunted with his eyes closed, focusing on every touch that you provided. 

You worked in silence for a few more moments, your fingers careful and skilled as you wove Rowan’s hair into a simple warrior’s braid.

It should’ve been professional. It wasn’t. Not with the way his head tilted slightly into your hand, not with the way he turned to kiss your wrist when you were done. Not with the look he gave you, that quiet, worshipful look that made your chest ache.

“You should go help your queen,” Rowan said softly.

“I am helping her,” you say, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “By making sure she doesn't arrive at breakfast looking like she’s been in bed for half the morning.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Aelin called from the bath.

You turned, lifting your brow. “Out. Towel. Now.” 

She groaned but obeyed, standing in all her glory as you and Rowan admired her before wrapping her in a towel. She was dripping and smug as she stepped out of the bath.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you say with a twitch of a smirk on your lips.

“I’m lucky for a lot of things,” she said, voice quieter now, more real.

And when her hand reached for yours, you didn’t hesitate. You helped her dress in a royal blue gown with silver embroidery, soft velvet and silk. You fastened her corset, tugged her laces, arranged her jewellery, painted a soft flush on her cheeks, all whilst Rowan arranged subtle weapons upon her person. 

As you both moved, Aelin stole kisses. All while she whispered compliments about her two favourite people. 

When her hair was finally twisted and pinned, her lips painted, and her expression appropriately regal, you stepped back.

“Majesty,” you said with a practised nod.

Aelin stepped close, her mouth brushing your ear. “Lover,” she whispered, with wicked affection.

And Rowan, behind you, just smiled.

But when you opened the chamber doors, when your hand was on the handle and your composure perfectly in place, the three of you looked like nothing more than royalty and servant.

Just like you were supposed to. But the warmth on your neck? That was from Roan’s kiss. And the fire in your veins? That would always be Aelin.

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

The kitchens were already buzzing by the time you stepped in.

The scent of fresh bread, herbs, and strong coffee clung to the air. Steam curled from silver pots. Trays clattered, boots shuffled, and half-awake servants whispered to one another in that early-morning lull before Terrasen truly woke.

But the moment your voice cut through the noise – clear, calm, commanding – the room still. “Three trays for the high table. One plain, no spices – that’s Lord Darrow’s. Watch the wine goblets; he’ll notice if there’s even a spot on the rim.”

Several nods. People moved faster. You crossed the room with purpose, tightening the belt of your robe as you snatched a cloth and wiped a plate yourself.

“Have the Queen’s lemon water poured in her special glass this morning, with extra mint. Thank you, Geoffrey! Yes–that’s the glass, she needs a little love this morning,” you say to the young man before you carry Aelin’s crystal cup that she’d received as a gift for her last birthday. 

And then, a voice at your shoulder, “Well, well. If it isn’t Her Highness, the Terror of the Kitchen.”

“Fenrys,” you say flatly, already knowing who was there without turning to him. “I’m pretty sure I asked for useful hands to help this morning.”

He grinned, picking a slice of peach from a dish and popping it into his mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m simply here to protect the Queen, and the food just happens to be a bonus.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

Fenrys had taken a liking to you early on, long before he’d suspected your real relationship with Rowan and Aelin. He teased mercilessly, flirted often, and offered sarcastic commentary from every corner of the palace. But there was loyalty beneath it. A sharp, watchful intelligence. He noticed things others didn’t.

“What are the royals?” he asked, mouth full of grapes.

“Getting ready,” you reply, giving him a pointed look. Try not to say anything that makes Aelin launch her goblet at you this time.”

“That was once,” he said, offendedly. “And it was a funny joke.”

“She’d just had four hours of court meetings and a visit from Lord Solstice. Your joke was about a goat falling down the castle steps. Real classy.”

“Still funny.”

You rolled your eyes again, but your smile softened. It felt good to laugh in the mornings, especially when you knew what the day would bring.

Moments later, you carried the final tray out yourself, a detail no one questioned anymore. It gave you a reason to be in their chambers, to linger just long enough to check if Rowan had remembered to fix the collar of his tunic or if Aelin needed a second pin in her hair.

But by the time you reached the upper terrace, the one overlooking the eastern courtyard and the rolling hills of Terrasen, the high table was still empty. You set the tray down, turned–

And paused. There they were.

Standing at the far edge of the stone balcony, her head resting against his collarbone. Aedion stood just beside them, arms crossed, expression unreadable as he stared out over the land.

This moment was one shared most mornings if they could help it. Just a moment. To remember those lost. The hardships they’d suffered. To dream and pray and thank all of those who no longer walk the soil.

Turning back to the room, you found the servants and guards all with their heads lowered. Remembering the families, the friends, and the pain they had also endured.

It was a beautiful moment. One never disturbed.

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

Back in the main hall, you busied yourself with straightening cushions, adjusting silverware, and inspecting every single glass. The court will be arriving soon. Nobles with sharp eyes and sharper tongues. Eyes would be on the Queen and King, always. And by extension, on you.

You caught your reflection in the polished silver plate. Composed and regal as perfectly trained.

But your heart still beat like a second rhythm, one only two others truly knew. You pressed a hand lightly to your chest, steadied your breath, and stepped into place just behind the Queen’s chair.

When they entered, Aelin, Rowan, and Aedoin, no one would notice the way Aelin’s hand brushed your waist as she passed.

But you would. And so would Fenrys.

Conversations ebbed and flowed throughout the hall, chairs scraping back in hasty retreats. Breakfast was never quiet in Terrsaen. The high table bore gold-rimmed goblets, polished fruit bowls, flaky pastries, and gleaming silverware.

Around it, the court tried to behave itself, tried being the operative word.

You moved silently around the Queen’s side, adjusting her glass, topping off the coffee she hadn’t touched, ensuring the lemon water was the correct temperature.

Rowan barely glanced at his plate. You saw it in his stillness, the alert tension in his shoulders, as he scanned the room, listening without seeming to.

Aelin leans back just slightly as you reach over her, adjusting the angle of a tray. “You smell too good,” she whispered under her breath.

“You majesty?” you asked sweetly.

Her smirk was lethal. “Nothing.”

You gave her the look, the one that said, “not here, not now”, and moved behind her once more, hands folded neatly at your front. Her fingers brushed your hand under the table. You didn’t move. But your pulse fluttered wildly.

Across from you, a round-faced lord with thinning hair and a high-pitched voice spoke directly to Aelin, as if he thought his tone didn’t carry insult.

“You look… well-rested this morning, Majesty,” he said with a polite smile that did little to mask the suggestion behind his words.”One might think you’d been sleeping instead of handling the unrest in the South.”

Aelin’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Careful, Lord Halron. You’re starting to sound like someone who thinks he could do better.” The room stilled at her tone. 

“Perhaps someone should remind Lord Halron that women can manage both diplomacy and sleep without his permission,” you said mildly, with an elegant raise of your brow as you just couldn’t sit and keep your mouth quiet.

Every head turned. Aelin froze. Rowan went utterly still. And Lord Halron turned a delicate shade of red. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m sure you do,” you said, making sure to flaunt a gracious little smile, the rage spiking in your chest that it took all of your energy not to throw something at his thick head. “Though not as often as you beg the council to take your opinions seriously.”

The silence that followed was delicious. Aedoin was the first to recover; he let out a sharp, barked laugh and quickly masked it as a cough.

Fenrys, seated near the edge of the table, coughed loudly into his cup, covering his grin with suspicious effort.

Lord Halron looked seconds from combustion.

Aelin reached for her goblet and drank, only the faintest shimmer of amusement in her eyes.

But it was Rowan who glanced toward you, that unreadable stare locking onto yours across the table. His jaw flexed.

And gods above, the head in his gaze nearly sent your knees weak. Not anger. Lust.

He was undressing you with his eyes in the middle of a royal breakfast.

You dropped your gaze before anyone could notice, but not before Fenrys cut a sharp glance between the two of you.

Thankfully, Aedion leaned in toward Hhalron with a wolfish smile, breaking the tension. “Tell me, Lord Halron– when’s the last time you won a debate in court? Or do you prefer being spanked by the Queen’s maid instead?”

That drew a round of startled chuckles from nearby nobles, and a chorus of forced, diplomatic coughs. Lord Halron’s face deepened in the shade as his rage erupted.

“It’s one thing for you to speak out of turn, General,” he said sharply to Aedion, who continued to grin at the man’s outburst. “But I won’t be publicly humiliated by some… servant girl pretending to have a voice at the royal table.”

And there it was. The shift was immediate.

The air turned sharp as steel. Not just the court’s tension–no, something far colder.

Rowan stood instantly, silent as snowfall but radiating lethal intent. His face was calm, too calm, his eyes glinting with quiet, deadly rage. 

Aaelin didn’t rise. She didn’t need to.

She simply tilted her head at Halron, her smile razor-sharp and causing the man to drop his stare submissively. “That ‘servant girl’, Lord Halron,” she said smoothly, voice chilled, “commands my household. She has earned the trust of the Queen of Terrsen, of the King, and every member of this court whose opinion actually matters.”

You didn't move, not even as your pulse roared in your ears. You stood just behind her, shoulders straight, eyes calm because Aelin had just named you more than staff.

And Halron knew it.

“Is that a threat, Your Majesty?” he sneers, but his voice cracked.

Rowan stepped forward then, slow and quiet, gaze locked on the man like a predator's eyes on its prey. “No. this is.”

A beat of silence passed. Then Rowan leaned in and whispered something too low for anyone to hear – Except Haloron.

The colour drained from the man’s face, standing abruptly.

“Fenrys,” Aelin said idly, lifting a slice of buttered toast to her lips.

“Yes, Majesty?” Fenrys said as he rose from his seat, his eyes already gleaming with heat.

“Escot Lord Halron out. Kindly. Firmly.”

“With or without his dignity?”

“Up to you.”

“Marvellous.”

Fenrys strode toward Halron with the casual menace of someone who wanted the man to resit, but Halron wisely turned on his heel, practically tripping over himself to leave. The doors slammed shut behind him.

And the moment was over.

The atmosphere remained lively and bright as if nothing had even occurred. With everyone's eyes now not cast on the drama, you could take a steadying breath. 

Aelin sipped from her glass, her smirk was lazy now, satisfaction humming in her eyes as Rowan returned to his seat beside her. “Your mouth is going to get you in some trouble,” she drawled, voice quiet enough only you could hear.

You stepped in to adjust her place, adding more grapes, your hand brushing her shoulder, her fingers catching yours just briefly. “You love it.”

“I want to bite it.”

You nearly choked on air, knees buckling ever so slightly.

Rowan, who had not turned to his mate, leaned over her, pouring more juice into her glass, allowing him to speak lowly to you, “You keep speaking like that in court, and we might have to show you our appreciation with an audience.” 

You didn’t answer, couldn’t with the way you were trying to keep your features neutral, despite the way your cheeks were heating.

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

The morning air was crisp as you stepped beyond the castle gates, the faint scent of pine and wild mint clinging to the forest path. The trail between the castle and the lower town was well-worn and well-guarded.

But today, the shift had changed. You had insisted you didn’t need an escort; you’d walked this path dozens of times every week. It was safe.

Aelin had insisted on having someone else attend to inspect the crates being delivered to the city kitchens; however, you had spare time, especially as she and Rowan were spending the afternoon training, something you were wholly ill-skilled in.

A small, routine errand. An excuse for some peace and quiet.

And it had been until it wasn’t.

You’d barely crossed the laurel archway that marked the forest’s edge when you heard them. Footsteps behind you. Slow and deliberate.

You turned and froze.

Lord Halron stepped out of the trees, his cloak dusty and torn, his face still marred by a darkening bruise along his jawline. You recognise it instantly, Fenrys’ parting gift. 

Two men flanked him, both strangers, both armed. Not guard. Mercenaries.

Your mouth dried.

“You're far from the high table, Halron,” you said calmly, spine straightening.

He smiled, or tried to. The bruise pulled oddly at his skin. “So are you.”

You didn't reach for the dagger hidden in your boot. Not yet.

“I could scream,” you said quietly, the confidence in your voice wavering.

“You could,” he agreed, voice dripping with venom. “But I don't doubt that Queen would want her little pet involved in another scandal. And anyway, it's not like there’s anyone around to hear.” 

You took a slow step back, hand brushing your cloak.

“I wasn’t planning on hurting you,” he continued, curling like a dog. “Until you opened your mouth in front of the whole court. You humiliated me.”

“You humiliated yourself,” you said coldly. “By speaking like a coward, to the queen no less. I just helped you finish the performance.”

Maybe, on reflection, your goading and taunts weren’t warranted, but you often spoke before thinking.

His smile vanished. He nodded once, and the two men moved.

You barely ducked the first blow, a fist meant for your face, but the second mercenary caught your arm in a brutal grip and wrenched it behind your back.

Pain lanced through your shoulder. You cried out in shock and fear.

“Still have that smart mouth?” Halron hissed, stepping closer and gripping your cheeks until pain sparked through your jaw. “Let’s see if you’re still so quick-witted once you’re reminded where you belong.”

You spat at his feet. “Terrasen won’t blink before ending you. Think before your next move, Halron.”

“Then you’d better not tell them,” he whispered, too close. The guard holding you twisted your arm again, not enough to break it, but enough to make fire bloom behind your eyes.

Then a sharp thud, a fist into your ribs, quick and surgical. You folded forward with a gasp, knees buckling. Stars burst behind your eyes. It wasn’t the worst pain you'd ever felt, but it was deep and wrong.

“That's enough,” Halron ordered, glancing around. “We don't need her broken.” 

The guards released you. You instantly dropped to your knees, hand clutching your side, the air refusing to return to your lungs for one long, frozen moment.

Halron crouched beside you, his shadow cutting across your cheek. “You’ll keep your mouth shut now,” he said softly. “If you don’t want your Queen to be responsible for a scandal involving her previous maid caught alone in the forest with disgraced men. You know how rumours spread.”

You met his eyes. And smiled. “You should have killed me if you really wanted to cause a stir.” He flinched, just slightly, at your confident tone. 

Then leaned in closer, breath hot against your ear as he held your chin in a fierce grip. “I know where your family lives.” Your entire body went still. “I know the street. The market stall your parents own. That farm where your grandparents reside. I know what time your cousins walk to school.”

He pulled back, eyes dark. “So let’s not pretend you’re invincible. You don't get to play the martyr when you've got people worth hurting.” 

And just like that, everything changed. Your entire body gave up the fight.

“Tell the Queen,” he said quietly, “And I’ll make sure someone else pays for your sharp tongue.”

He stood and left you kneeling there in the dirt.

~~~~~~~~~~

The forest was beautiful that day. Sunlight filtered through the golden leaves, leaving an ethereal beauty across the floor. The birds chirped overhead, the wind brushing over your skin gently.

And with every step, pain lanced through your side, destroying any chance that you had at admiring your surroundings.

You wrapped your arm tighter around your ribs, the thick wool of your cloak doing little to ease the deep, blooming ache beneath. Breathing fully hurt. Walking hurt. You weren’t sure which part of your body throbbed more: your shoulder or abdomen. 

Each step was a carefully calculated lie.

Left foot, breathe. Right foot, mask it.

Again and again, and you didn’t cry then. You didn’t let yourself, not while Halron’s voice still echoed in your ears, whispering names he should not have known.

Your fury had burned at first, but now, it had cooled into something unsettled. You had decided immediately that you couldn’t tell anyone with the risk feeling too real.

By the time you reached the rear entrance of the castle, the sun had begun to sink lower, painting the courtyard in warm amber hues.

You avoided the main halls. Too many eyes. Too many chances to be noticed.

Instead, you slipped into the servants' wing, a hallway of polished stone and narrow doors. Until you nearly collided with Lysandra. 

The shifter paused mid-step, brows knitted as she caught your uninjured arm gently. “Gods, sorry–” then her eyes narrowed. “Are you limping?”

You straightened, ignoring the strike of pain that came with the movement, “No, I just twisted my ankle a little in the market, you know how the cobbles are uneven.” 

“Are you sure? Did something happen?” she asked softly. Lysandra’s eyes scanned your face, and it was evident that she didn’t believe you.

“I’m fine,” you lied with a surprisingly calm voice.

“I need to bring the supply list to the kitchens. They're waiting on my approval.” You offered a quick smile. “I’ll catch you later?”

Lysandra watched you for a beat longer. Then nodded. “Come by tonight,” she said gently. “Even if it’s just for tea. You don't have to talk.” 

You squeezed her hand before moving on.

You made it as far as the old linen room. The one no one used anymore, tucked between stairwells, just before the Queen's wing.

And that’s where you let yourself fall. Not hard. Not fully.

Just on the edge of a crate, hands pressed to your stomach, jaw clenched as the tears came, hot and furious tears that slipped down your cheeks and into your cloak.

You cried for the pain in your ribs, the strain in your shoulder, the truth that for the first time, Aelin and Rowan hadn’t been there to protect you, and you were terrified.

But only for a minute did you break as you wiped your face, standing slowly and pulling your cloak tighter.

All you needed to do was breathe, smile and serve. It was a simple job to complete.

You were almost back in the Queen’s chambers when Fenrys turned a corner and spotted you. His steps slowed instantly as his golden eyes scanned your face, and then your posture.

“You’re walking like you’ve been stabbed,” he said, the tone between jesting and concern.

You offered a soft laugh, “It’s been a long day.”

Fenrys frowned as his eyes still searched your body, looking thoroughly, “Has something happened?”

You paused, just long enough for him to know you were choosing not to answer, “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

He stepped closer, “Listen-”

You cut him off with a look, “Don’t. I’m fine.”

Fenrys exhaled, frustration clear on his face. Thankfully, he didn’t push, just simply stepped aside and let you pass. 

“I’ll be watching and don’t think I’ll be letting this go.”

“I know.”

You made it to the queen’s chamber just as the door opened and Aelin and Rowan entered together, sweat-slick and flushed from training, laughing about something you didn’t catch.

Their eyes found you instantly. Aelin’s smile deepened. “There you are.”

Rowan’s gaze sharpened slightly, as it always did, noting your presence, cataloguing your state. But your mask was already on.

“I just returned from the market,” you said easily, brushing imaginary dust from your sleeve. “The Eyllwe shipment arrived. Spices all accounted for.”

Aelin leaned into Rowan’s side. “Remind me to gift them something extra this solstice.”

Rowan nodded, but his eyes hadn’t let up yet.

You dropped your gaze, stepping forward, already beginning to help unfasten Aelin’s cloak with soft, steady hands.

No tremor or flinch—just silence and the slow, steady countdown to when everyone would finally snap.

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

The evening moved like clockwork.

Aelin bathed while Yu prepared her nightwear. Rowan stood shirtless at the far window, brushing down his damp hair after a sparring session that left a line of redness across his ribs. You caught glimpses of them as you folded linens, every flex of his shoulder causing something to stir low in your stomach, as it usually did. 

Tonight, you could hardly stand up straight without your ribs aching. Still, you smiled through it.

“You’re quiet,” Aelin said lazily from the bath. She lounged in the scented water, eyes half-lidded, golden with firelight. “Too tired to tease me?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, your Majesty.”

Rowan snorted.

Aelin frowned slightly. “You didn’t correct me. Usually by now, I’ve been scolded twice.”

You looked up briefly and forced a small smile. “Maybe I'm being merciful.” 

She narrowed her eyes at you but thankfully didn’t press. 

When she stepped from the bath, you were ready for her robe. You helped dry her off in silence, but not the uncomfortable kind. Your shoulder twinged sharply when you moved to brush out her hair, and you had to swallow a gasp.

Rowan saw it. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes lingered a little too long, and you felt the weight of his attention even as he crossed to the table.

Aelin, still facing the mirror, caught your reflection behind hers. “You staying tonight?”

You hesitated, just for a moment. But it was enough.

“Not tonight,” you said as carefully as you could. I'm tired. And I have to help the kitchen staff early.”

Aelin turned, robe tied loosely around her waist. “You're always up early, and that's never stopped you before.”

Rowan folded his muscular arms tightly across his chest. “She's lying.” 

You shot him a fierce look. “I'm not.”

“Yes, you are,” he said calmly, stepping closer. “You've been lying since you came back from the market.

“Stop.”

Aelin stepped in then, her hand soft on your arm, the wrong arm. You flinched before you could stop it, breath catching.

Aelin’s brows lifted, but Rowan’s expression didn’t change, and the room dropped ten degrees.

“You’re hurt,” Aelin said softly.

“I’m not,” you whispered, stepping away from her. “I swear. It’s nothing–”

“Don’t lie to us.” Rowan's voice was low and dangerous. “You think we wouldn’t notice?”

You backed up a step, too fast, too sharp, and pain flared in your side. You winced, biting your lip.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said, eyes wide now. “Please. Please just let it go.”

“You come back, flinching in pain and expect us to sit quietly?” Aelin asked with concern etched on her beautiful face. “Talk to us.”

You shook your head. “I can’t. I-If I tell you, you’ll–.” You stopped.

You couldn't finish. Aelin stepped forward. Rowan didn’t move, but you could feel his presence, steady and coiled. 

“Did someone hurt you?” she asked quietly.

“I can’t,” you repeated, voice cracking, facade fading away.

Rowan’s voice was near your ear now. “Tell me who–”

“Stop–”

“We’ll hand it. We always do–”

“Stop!” you snapped, voice rising. And then you flinched.

Your body twists, trying to shield your side. But the motion was too fast. White-hot pain ripped through your ribs and shoulder. A ragged sound tore from your throat, not a scream, but close, a strangled cry.

You dropped to your knees, one hand pressed to your ribs, the other bracing on the cold stone floor. Breathing turned shallow. Panic surged.

Both of them were on you instantly. Aelin dropped beside you, handshoering but not touching. Rowan crouched close, his voice suddenly gentle.

“Where?”

You shook your head.

“I'm going to touch your side. Just to check,” he said with all the patience in the world.

“No! Don’t–please–”

You were shaking so violently that it was causing more pain to shoot down your side.

“I can’t,” you whispered. “I can’t say it.”

You couldn’t breathe, which was the worst pain of all. It was everything and completely overwhelming to the point that the air refused to reach your lungs. You were gasping, but nothing came. No air and no words as your throat locked up. 

Everything was spinning.

Rowan’s voice cut through it, firm but low. “Hey–Hey, look at me. Look at me, love.”

You barely heard him. Aelin’s hand hovered near your face, her voice steadier than it should have been. “You’re okay. You’re here. No one’s going to hurt you.”

But the fear was louder. You tried to speak, to say sorry, to explain, to lie again, but your body shook violently, and nothing came but a slight, desperate sound. You flinched when Roan reached for your side again, a protective curl overtaking your spine.

Your vision was going black at the edges.

Then, the door slammed open. “What’s going on?” Fenrys demanded.

His voice was sharp and unguarded for once. 

He didn’t wait for permission. He crossed the room in two steps, crouched low beside Rowan, his eyes taking over your form like a prying predator assessing the damage.

“She’s panicking,” Aelin snapped, trying to keep her tone soft, but her panic was there, too.

“I know,” Fenrys said tightly,” I can feel it. I saw her earlier. I knew something was wrong.” 

Rowan touched your face, cupping it gently between both hands. “You’re safe. Breathe with me. Just breathe.”

You were trying. But panic clawed at your chest, your ribs burning from the effort.

“It hurts,” you choked. “It hurts–I can’t–breathe–”

Aelin’s palm found yours. “Then don’t talk. Just listen to us.”

“Here.” Rowan moved behind you, gently, so gently, and sat down with you between his legs, his chest pressed to your back, his arms a cage around you. “Lean into me. I’ve got you.” 

You were still trembling, but his warmth helped ease the sensation. Then he took a deep breath and, using his magic, forced crisp, chilled air into your lungs. His steady heartbeat against your spine, his breath brushing your ear. His hands, large and callused, rubbed soothing circles over your uninjured arm. 

“Well done, love,” he encouraged, continuing to help you breathe.

Aelin moved in front of you, crouching low. Her expression had softened, still fierce, still glowing with silent rage, but now focused on you as nothing else mattered.

“Darling,” she said softly. “What happened to you?”

You shook your head, tears tracking down your cheeks. You couldn’t.

Rowan didn't push; he just held you tighter, supplying you with fresh air. 

But Fenrys watched you, and he knew.

He looked at your body, where you clutched your ribs, where your shoulder sagged too low. He looked at your ashen face, open and terrified. 

And his expression changed.

Something cold settled over him. His posture straightened. His eyes went flat and deathly.

“Who touched her?” he asked quietly, not even looking at Aelin or Rowan.

Having calmed down enough from the panic attack, you were exhausted, physically and emotionally, so that you couldn’t stop the word from slipping past your lips. 

“Halron.”

Rowan went very still behind you. Aelin didn’t move either, her face unreadable, her eyes suddenly like chipped glass. Fenrys let out a breath.

“I’ll get a healer,” he said softly.

“No one but Yrene,” Aelin snapped.

“She’s not in the castle.”

“Then someone she trained. I don't care who, but if they don't have golden hands, I’ll gut them at the door.” 

Fenrys didn’t argue. He only met your eyes, his softening just slightly.

“I’ll fix it,” he promised. And then he was gone.

You stayed cradled against Rowan, barely aware of the minutes passing. His hands never left you. Neither did Aelin.

She brushed sweat-damp hair from your brow, her voice softer than the silk you kept folded in her wardrobe.

“You should have told us.”

“I couldn’t,” you whispered. “He said he knew about my family. He threatened them. He knew such specific details, I had no choice but to believe him.”

Her lips pressed into a tight line, but she didn't explode. She didn't roar, break glass, or summon fire. 

Instead, she reached forward and pressed her forehead to yours.

“You’re ours,” she whispered. “And no one hurts what's ours.”

Rowan hummed in agreement behind you, a low sound of quiet, brutal promise. You were safe now. And someone would pay for what had been done.

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

You didn’t remember falling asleep. But you woke to soft voices, the scent of lavender, and a pair of cool, careful fingers pressing just below your ribs.

Your body jolted, but you were held gently in place, Rowan’s hands anchoring your hips.

“It’s alright,” Aelin's voice reassured beside you, her fingers brushing over your forehead. “You’re safe.” 

The healer, young, quiet with golden embroidery along her sleeves, didn’t meet your eyes. She was respectful, professional, and had been carefully chosen by Fenrys from the list of those Yrene had personally trained. 

“She’s bruised, not broken,” the healer said gently, her hands glowing faintly as she passed them over your ribs. “Deep bruising here, shoulder strain. Pulled, but not dislocated.”

Rowan’s jaw clenched. You could feel it in the way his hands curled around the blanket.” Pain level?” the healer asked you, voice soft and calming.

You hesitated. “Seven.”

Rowan made a sound, quiet, low and furious.

She said, bruised,” Aelin said under her breath, but her tone was tight. “Not impaled.” 

You almost laughed, but it hurt to breathe deeply, so you didn’t.  

Soon, the healer had wrapped your ribs in special bandaging and placed a warming pouch across your shoulder. You were fading quickly from exhaustion, as your body ached in ways you hadn't experienced before. 

As you eventually attempted to sit up, Rowan stopped you, “You’re not sleeping in your quarters tonight.”

“But I–”

“No.” Rowan’s one word left no room for argument. 

“You’ll stay here,” Aelin added, fluffing the pillows behind you and pulling the blanket up higher. “With us, end of discussion.”

“I don't want to be a burden,” you admitted with a whisper.

Aelin’s eyes flashed. “You’re not.”

Rowan shifted closer to the bed, one hand brushing your uninjured arm. “We’ll breathe easier with you here.”

You nodded, throat tight.

There was a knock at the door. Fenrys slipped in without waiting for permission.

“They're in the dungeons,” he informed Aelin and Rowan. “Halron and both his men. We caught them trying to slip downriver.”

Rowan’s body coiled.

“They’ll live long enough to answer for what they did,” Fenrys added, gaze flicking to you. “But they’re done. You’re safe.” 

You managed a small smile. “Thank you.”

Fenrys gave you a short note, nothing more, but it held the weight of loyalty. He didn't stay long after that. There was a quiet understanding in the room now. Halron could wait. For now, you were what mattered. 

Later that night, Rowan lifted you gently into the centre of the bed, his movements careful, his hands never leaving yours. Aelin crawled in beside you, wrapping herself around your uninjured side like a shield. 

They didn't press. Didn't touch you with hunger or demand, only with comfort. 

Rowan’s hand cupped the back of your neck. Aelin’s lips brushed your temple. “You’re not alone anymore,” she whispered. “You never were. We’ll always keep you safe.” 

And with both of them at your side, one heartbeat steady against your back, the other warm and soft against your front, you finally allowed yourself to drift off, safe and surrounded. 

~~~~~~~

It had been four days since they returned from the dungeons. You hadn’t asked. You hadn’t needed to.

Aelin and Rowan had vanished that morning with no explanation and returned just before dinner. Blood-soaked and silent, eyes hard and satisfied. They hadn’t tried to hide it from you. Aelin had kissed your temple before bathing, still streaked in crimson. Rowan had cradled your face in his blood-stained hands and said, “They will never hurt you again.” 

You had been at a loss for words and were only able to nod. And everyone, from courtier to guard, had seen the blood. Seen your lovers returned, marked and triumphant, having made an example. 

The court learned quickly, hurt the Queen's maid, and they bled. 

Now, four days later, you were losing your fucking mind.

Your ribs still ached faintly, and your shoulder was stiff, but you could move. You could breathe. And yet they insisted on rest.

You were tired of resting.

So when you found the sitting room scattered with books and scrolls, you took your chance, tidying, straightening, ignoring the little voice in your head that warned you not to stretch too far.

You were halfway through refolding a blanket when the door creaked open behind you.

You froze. Then slowly, very slowly, turned around.

Rowan stood in the doorway. Arms crossed. Brows raised.

Aelin stepped in behind him and surveyed the scene.

Her lips quirked. “Oh no.”

You offered a sheepish smile. “I was bored.”

Rowan didn’t speak. He just strode forward, scooped you up effortlessly, and sat down on the chaise with you draped across his lap like a misbehaving kitten.

“I'm fine,” you said, muffled by the arm he tucked your head beneath his chin. 

“You were told to rest.”

“I have been resting–”

Aelin dropped into the cushions beside him, dragging her legs across both of yours. “Don’t lie to us, darling. You’ve been plotting your escape since yesterday.”

“She alphabetised your personal library last night when we weren’t looking,” Rowan added.

You blinked up at him. “You noticed?”

“His eyes narrowed. “The books are not in author order anymore; it looks ridiculous.”

“Yes, but now you can easily find which books you’re looking for–”

Aelin laughed, rich and warm, and leaned in to brush your lips with hers. “You’re such a menace.”

“You flushed, grinning. “Can’t help it.”

Rowan’s hand slid slowly along your thigh, grounding you. “And what happens when you push yourself too soon?”

You sighed, “I get lectured.”

Aelin nipped your bottom lip gently with her sharpened canines. “You get punished.”

That made your breath hitch.

Rowan smirked, just faintly, the dark tattoos etched across his face shifting with the movement. “Do you want to be punished, sweet thing?”

You swallowed. “I…”

“You want to be touched,” Aelin said, lips now brushing the shell of your ear. “You’ve been aching for it.”

“I didn’t want to rush you,” you admitted softly.

“You’re not rushing us,” Rowan said, his voice low and gravel-soft. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Aelin slid off the couch and knelt between your legs. Her fingers skimmed up your arm as she looked up at you with a wicked grin, “And now you’ve been bad.” 

“Very bad,” Rowan agreed, tugging your dress slowly up your thighs. “Disobeying orders and putting stress on bruised ribs.”

You whimpered as Aelin pressed a kiss to your knee, moving higher. “Can we? We’ll make sure to be careful,” she asked, eyes suddenly softer, her hand brushing the bandages at your side.

You nod quickly. Rowan adjusted your body in his lap, cradling your back, “You tell us to stop, and we stop. Immediately.”

“I trust you,” you breathed.

This was all they needed.

Aelin was playful first, always was. She lifted your dress in slow, deliberate folds until your thighs were bare to the cool air. Her fingers traced teasing paths, skipping over where you wanted her most.

Rowan didn’t rush either.

He turned your ace to his and kissed you deeply, not demanding, not rough, just claiming. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek as he kissed you like you were made of silk.

You whined softly as Aelin’s mouth pressed to the inside of your thigh.

“Such a needy thing,” she whispered, smiling against your skin. “Always pretending you don’t like being looked after.”

“Brat,”  Rowan muttered, but fondly. He flung one arm around your waist to support you, and the other moved lower, sliding between your legs.

You gasped, soft and instinctive as his fingers stroked your already soaked core through your undergarments.

“You’re dripping,” he growled, voice tight with restraint. “You like being scolded, don’t you?”

Aelin chuckled. “She likes it when you growl at her. Don’t you, love?”

You mewled as she kissed over your hipbone. “Yes.”

Rowan pulled your panites down slowly, dragging them along your thighs, and passed them to Aelin with a smirk. “Trophy,” she said, tucking the lacy material into the cleavage of her dress.

Then her mouth was on you. And all self-control shattered.

Her tongue was sinful. Licking you slowly, starting lower and rising, caressing your clit in pressured circles that had your hips rolling, chasing more friction.

Rowan kissed your temple, holding you close and whispering praises into your skin. “So good, our perfect girl.”

“She tastes better every time,” Aelin said between strokes, voice thick with pleasure.

Rowan let one hand slide to your breast, kneading carefully, never pressing where the bruises still lingered. “Ours,” he whispered again. “You remember that, don’t you?”

You nodded desperately, hips arching into Aelin’s mouth. She moaned into you, and the sound broke you.

Your orgasm hit fast, white-hot and dizzying. You clutched Rowan’s tunic, cried out Aelin’s name and let the wave crash over you with no shame.

They didn’t stop.

Rowan lifted you into his arms, carried you carefully to the bed, and laid you down like you were glass. 

Aelin stripped out of her dress and crawled in beside you, kissing your throat. 

“Ready for more?” she asked, eyes gleaming and wild.

“Please.”

Rowan undressed wth unhurried precision, and when he knelt between your legs, cock hard and throbbing, you swore you’d never seen anything more beautiful.

He pressed a hand between your thighs again, slicking you up once more. “You’ll take me slow.”

You nodded, happy to do anything that came out of his mouth.

His first push still stole the air from your lungs. He moved gently, lowering himself and entering you inch by inch, careful to keep his weight off your ribs, one hand stroking your cheek, the other tangled with Aelins as she held you from behind. 

“You’re everything,” Rowan groaned, beginning to thrust. “Every gods-damned part of you belongs to us.” 

“Say it,” Aelin encouraged, her mouth against your shoulder. “Say who you belong to.”

“You,” you gasped, arching your back, thighs tightening around Rowan's hips. “Both of you. I’m yours.” 

“Good girl,” they said together.

Rowan didn’t change the pace, no matter how much you begged or tried to roll your hips.

“Please,” you cried out, nails digging into the tattoos covering his back. “Faster, harder–”

“No, he demanded, voice dark but tender. “You're still healing. I won't hurt you.” 

His thrusts stayed steady, slow and deep. Hitting all the right places, dragging it out, making you feel every inch of him. His restraint was maddening, beautiful. And then Aelin’s fingers flipped between your thighs again, circling your clit in tight, expert circles.

“Don’t pout,” she purred against your throat. “We’ll give you everything. Just like this.”

The pleasure hit so fast that you sobbed.

Rowan hissed through his teeth as your walls clenched around him, his control finally snapping as he groaned and thrust deep one last time, filling you with a low, broken growl of your name.

You barely had time to breathe before Aelin slid down between your thighs. “Let me taste,” she whispered, her eyes molten. 

You whined, overstimulated, but she didn't wait.

She spread your legs gently, kissed your inner thigh and devoured you. Tongue flicking over where Rowan had just been, fingers curling deep as she worked you to your third orgasm. Your cries were helpless, trembling under her mouth.

And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more–

Rowan moved behind her, pushing her gently onto her elbows, spreading her knees as he dropped to the floor behind her.

His tongue met her soaked cunt at the same time your orgasm crested again. 

Rowan licked Aelin with slow strokes of his tongue, all whilst Aelin moaned into your clit, her fingers pumping inside you, her lips tasting your shared pleasure. 

She was relentless, to the point that when your final orgasm hit, you were boneless, collapsing into the bed.

They curled around you afterwards like they were made for it, Rowan tucking you to his chest, Aelin curled behind you, arm slung over your waist. Her face pressed to your neck. 

“I’ll never let anything happen to you again,” Aelin whispered, brushing her finger over your collarbone.

“You’re safe,” Rowan reiterated tenderly, his lips to your temple. “Forever. With us.”

💚🩵🤍🩵💚

You were a fool. A complete and utter fool.

Nearly a year of pining after Aelin and Rowan, your Queen and King, had led to nothing.

Nothing but one night, months ago in a packed inn when you’d been nestled between them after hours of making you feel pleasure like never before.

Since that night, you’d kept a small flame of hope alive that Aelin had meant that they wanted you, to be with you. They’d asked you to take a room in the castle, only a few minutes walk separating you from their personal tower. Aelin had mention something about saving you the time of fighting the now busy streets of Orynth to reach the castle greenhouses each morning as her reasoning for offering the room, when you had a perfectly comfortable cottage of your own inside the city walls. And you’d continued to visit other towns and cities to help with the ongoing rebuilding efforts, still just the three of you, your magic speeding along fields of wheat, ripening entire rows of tomato plants to perfection as your Queen and King saw to any other needs their citizens might have.

But you’d not shared a room again, no twist of fate forcing the opportunity once more, or the married couple simply asking you to join them. It was glaringly obvious to you now that there was no reason to keep hoping, and that you needed to leave your foolish feelings behind before you were hurt further. Yet… you couldn’t manage to tear your eyes away from their place on the dance floor.

Winter Solstice was here, and a ball had been planned to celebrate the first free winter of Terrasen. You’d tried and tried to keep your eyes from wandering to them, whether they were on their thrones or mingling with the crowd, but you failed all night. And now they were dancing, each movement followed by sparks of Aelin’s fire, sending your mind straight back to the night you’d had with them.

The two of them together were perfect, bodies full of grace and sharp personalities, souls that had intertwined completely, near immortal and everything you’d ever wanted. And you…

You were mortal. Skilled with the plant magic you wielded, but nothing else that would impress anyone, or make you vital to their kingdom. Aelin had called you pretty, but you were nothing compared to her own beauty.

Tonight would be the perfect time to make your escape, to find a town or city that would welcome you, to run away from the feelings that rushed through you at the mere thought of Rowan and Aelin. You’d planned to leave already if the conditions were right, but… you wanted to see them, one last time.

And now that you had, it was time to grab your things from your room in the castle, then from your cottage in town.

You calmly made your way to the entrance of the great hall, taking one last glance at the couple you’d fallen too deeply for when they were completely off-limits. Rowan dipped Aelin in his arms as the song ended, kissing her deeply before pulling her back into a standing position.

A sigh, and then you were gone.

The stairs up to your room were uncomfortable in heels, but you made your way up and back down in under fifteen minutes. Laughter and music poured from the great hall as you passed through a hallway nearby. It was easy enough to slip out the castle doors and through the streets of Orynth to your house, dodging revelers who’d had a bit too much to drink as you did.

Familiar wooden walls greeted you as you shivered in the cold of your house, but you didn’t bother lighting a fire in the fireplace seeing as you’d be long gone in a few minutes. A match lit two candles on your living room table, lighting the room well enough. You sat to remove the heeled boots you’d worn tonight and warmed your toes between your hands, the soft fur lining not enough to stave away the chills that Terrasen’s winters brought.

You reached for your socks, only to pat around on the couch and realize that you hadn’t grabbed a pair of socks, and you rolled your eyes at yourself. A hiss left your lips at the biting cold of the wood floors beneath your feet as you darted to your bedroom, sitting on your bed to tug the wool socks on, and then another pair for good measure. There may be a merchant’s carriage waiting to take you to Rosamel, but the journey would be long and freezing. No use in risking your toes when you had plenty of socks to bring with you.

Your hands set to packing the two other bags you could bring with you, stuffing in as many clothes as you could while your mind wandered, worries piling on one after the other. What if the Lord of Rosamel turned you away? What if you were allowed in, but couldn’t find housing? What if-

An insistent knocking on your front door snapped you out of your thoughts, annoyance flitting through you.

Who would come calling for you at midnight?

You thought about ignoring whoever was at the door, likely a confused drunkard, until the knocking turned to pounding.

“Y/N, please let us in,” a voice called, muffled but familiar. If Aelin was here…

The door swung open, revealing your Queen and King who looked panicked, if that was even possible. “I… What are you doing here?”

“The better question is what are you doing here, Y/N?” Rowan growled before prowling past you, opening each door and checking each room as if he was searching for someone.

Aelin’s hands grabbed one of yours, her warmth chasing away the chill that had settled into your bones. “Why did you take your things from the castle, Y/N? I thought you liked staying there…” Her voice was soft, softer than you’d heard it since that night.

“I did, but I-”

“Why are your bags packed?” Rowan asked after emerging from your bedroom, a furious look on his face. “You were going to leave in the middle of the night, just like that?”

Your heart stuttered as fear swept over you, doubling in intensity when you saw a matching look on Aelin’s face. “I- I didn’t want-”

“What, Y/N? You didn’t want to say goodbye before leaving for some incredibly urgent reason, or you didn’t want us?” The last word was said with such pain, the emotion reflected in Aelin’s eyes. You could hardly breathe as she pinned you to the spot with her stare, the gold in her eyes shining in the candlelight. “Which is it?”

“I…” You couldn’t break her stare, couldn’t escape the want that flooded you whenever you were near them, couldn’t help the tears that fell from your eyes. You didn’t want to confess, but it was the only way that they would let you go. “I want you too much,” you whispered into the space that separated you, resisting the urge to look at Rowan, see the disgust that was likely building in his eyes. “I’ve always wanted you too much, in the wrong way when I knew that you were married, mates.” Your voice cracked on the last word, the knowledge that you could never compete with a bond like that having already shredded your soul long before tonight. “I think- I think I love both of you, but I need to leave Orynth. I can’t… It hurts too much, to be around you.” Your voice had quieted to a whisper before you stopped talking, finally pulling your eyes away from Aelin’s.

You stared at the floor as you waited for Aelin to drop your hand, for the two of them to storm out of your house.

It didn’t happen.

Aelin tugged you closer, only letting go of your hand to wrap her arms around you. “Y/N.” She said your name like a prayer, and a shudder ran through you. “I can’t believe…” she laughed softly. “I want you too much. I can barely breathe without you, barely think around you.”

“We’ve felt for you since that morning in the greenhouse,” Rowan said, his warmth behind you now, his arms caging you between them. “You’re irresistible in every way, Y/N.”

You were silent in their hold, your mind trying and failing to comprehend what they’d just told you. They… Since the greenhouse…? But why wouldn’t they-

“I don’t… You- why didn’t you tell me?” you asked with a frown on your face.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Aelin asked, her eyes meeting yours when you finally looked up again. “We weren’t certain that you truly wanted us, and, well…”

“Aelin’s not the best at handling negative consequences,” Rowan whispered in your ear, the grin he was wearing obvious without even looking at him, and he chuckled when Aelin glared at him over your shoulder with no heat in her eyes.

“You wanted for Y/N to come to us, Rowan,” Aelin said with a roll of her eyes. “I suggested offering you part of our closet and guaranteed snuggles every night, but… I guess we played it too safe, if you thought we were so uninterested that you needed to run away.” There was regret in those stunning eyes as her arms tightened around you. “Please don’t run.”

The words were so quiet, murmured like a prayer into the space between you, filled with the vulnerability that your Queen so rarely showed.

“Stay with us, Y/N. We need you.” Rowan’s words were just as soft, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “We want you.”

You let out a whimper as you melted into their arms, your forehead resting on Aelin’s shoulder. “You can’t talk like that,” you mumbled into the fabric of her dress.

“Why? Is-”

It was easy to cut Rowan’s worry off as you whined, “You turned my legs to jelly. I can’t go back to the castle if I can’t walk.”

Two chests heaved with laughter around you for a moment, arms squishing you between them more tightly before silence fell again. The three of you stood in the quiet for minutes, listening to each other’s breathing.

“So, you’ll come with us?”

“Mm,” you hummed. “You mentioned space in the closet…”

“I’ll burn all of my clothes if it means you’ll be with us.” Aelin’s lips pressed to the crown of your head as you giggled at her.

“She doesn’t need that much space, Aelin,” Rowan teased.

“Hey!”

“Don’t get rid of your clothes, you look too pretty in them. Especially that pink nightgown you wore,” you sighed, nuzzling into Aelin’s neck. “Definitely don’t burn anything like that.”

Two fingers brought your chin up until you were an inch from Aelin’s face, a pleased look in her eyes and a smirk on her lips. “Oh? Should I take you with me when I go shopping for new ones? I’d love to have your input, maybe buy some pretty things for you to wear, just for us. Does that sound good?”

You couldn’t stop the way your heart thumped harder, imaginings of the silk and lace that Aelin would, without a doubt, look stunning in and out of. You didn’t think you could speak anything but gibberish with how close she was, how tightly Rowan was pressed to you, his arousal obvious against your lower back, but you managed a nod, Aelin’s slim fingers still beneath your chin.

“Good girl.” Soft lips pressed to yours, the contact making your knees go weak. It was a short kiss, full of promises that would be fulfilled later, in the warmth of their- now your- rooms. Once your lips parted, Rowan shifted behind you, turning your head to claim your mouth with his own, more demanding than Aelin. You were breathless when you parted, thankful for the two sets of arms now holding you up. “Now go put anything else you want to bring with you tonight in your bags, we have a warm bed waiting for us.”

Aelin’s smile alone could bring you to your knees, but with their confession and your own out in the open… You nearly fell the moment your Queen and King pulled away, your knees saved from bruising by Rowan’s arms wrapping around your waist. “Are you alright?”

Your cheeks flushed as you nodded. “I don’t know if I can walk,” you sighed, your flush intensifying when you saw Aelin’s grin.

“That’s fine, my love. Rowan can carry you,” she said, grin widening when Rowan scooped you into his arms with no warning. “We’ll come back to get the rest of your things tomorrow, and you can wear something of mine tonight. Or nothing at all.”

You pressed your thighs together, knowing exactly what the look in her eyes meant.

There would be little, if any, sleep tonight.

💚🩵🤍🩵💚