ROWAN

- Lydia Martin 

— She felt too scattered, and everything was beginning to feel like too much. She’d made an attempt to sleep, but sleeping when she was angry never really went well, so she’d eventually opted to skip sleeping altogether and slipped out onto the terrace after an hour of lying on the couch. It wasn’t like she needed to sleep anyways.

   She’d started out reading, focusing on the pages so her mind wouldn’t wander too far, but even trying to focus on the book was too hard, and she found herself letting her thoughts stray to the ceremony, the bond, as she stared out at the city. It wasn’t fair. She’d never wanted attachments, and sure, she’d agreed to the wedding to stay in Rome, to stay with her relatives. But she hadn’t agreed to a soul bond. She hadn’t agreed to anything that would tie her to anyone for the rest of eternity, at least in that way. 

   She tried to force herself not to think about how much she wanted to rip someone’s throat out, and instead made herself focus on the view, on the city, for some time, before finally dragging her attention back to the book she’d grabbed.

   But by morning, she’d dropped the book on a step, not having processed any of the words, and was back to staring out at the city. Her mind was wandering through all of the things she’d done in her youth, and trying to decide if she could get away with repeating some of it here.

   Eventually, she pulled herself away from the edge of the terrace and stepped back inside, stopping in her tracks when she realised that both Rowan and Rosalie were awake already.

And in all honesty, his little tantrum hadn’t helped much with the wildfire of fury inside him. But it did put his rage on a simmer, gave him a little more time to devise the most creatively painful ways a werewolf could die in and Rowan was still very much determined to kill the damned mutt as he walked back home from the outskirts of the town.

It was a relief neither Rosalie, nor Luna were in sight when he walked through the door, though any hopes that they’d absconded were quickly pushed aside as unfair. It wasn’t their fault, not this, at least, and Rowan needed to focus on the real enemy. He sneaked into his bedroom to change out of his stupid suit and have a shower, before braving the shitstorm this new development had made out of his life. 

He could add to the list now, along with everything else, him fucking off minutes after they were married, as what was wrong with their relationship. Not that there was much of that going around, but the odds of any flourishing were dwindling rapidly.

Maybe he should apologize.

Or maybe he should tell them to get the fuck out of his house.

It wouldn’t break the soul bond, but at least he wouldn’t have them around as constant reminders. And besides, his ring wasn’t on a trigger finger, he could quite comfortably do without one out of ten.  

“I’m making breakfast,” he announced, as his eyes fell on Rosalie and then Luna, standing at the terrace door. “Omelet. Anything in particular you like on yours?” the question was directed more towards the one who needed to eat.  

Luna’s softly-spoken statement grated on his already overwrought nerves. She seemed more uncertain and awkward than fire-spitting angry, and Rowan didn’t know what to do with that.

What was worse, was that her doubt seemed to be rubbing off on him, as well. There was a part of Rowan that wanted to reassure her and sure, it could be argued that it would be obvious even to him that being an asshole about this whole situation wouldn’t help one jot, or maybe it was that stupid, fucking soul bond messing with his mind and policing his behavior.

They needed to find out everything they could about soul bonds before he went insane. And in the meantime, the way to keep himself on the razor sharp edge of control was by keeping himself busy as he stomped around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and pans, starting the coffee, and turning on the oven. “Do any of us even know anything about soul bonds, other than what those dipshits said? Because I can fucking guarantee it’s not the whole story.”

- NS

     morrigan was worried. there was no point in denying it ― she wanted her kids to have their ‘happy ever after’ on their own terms and now it was taken away from them, of course she was worried. it could go in so many wrong directions. before, it was more of a concept, but today it was getting real. and yes, rowan told her they are working it out and she wasn’t going to put her fingers into that ( it helped that she knew rosalie ― and that the princess knew how many twisted spells morrigan was able to perform with a snap of her fingers ; not that she was going to threats her or luna… not without a reason.  ) 

Rowan had spent the night flying, under the cover of darkness, just in case the war wasn’t truly over (he knew peace couldn’t last), but he’d returned with the sunrise, cleaned himself up, didn’t touch any alcohol and changed into the slate grey suit he bought specifically for this.

Could he live with making another choice?

His family was in Rome, things here were stable here for better or worse, for however little they lasted. It was still better than out there. And although they were still  afterthoughts to him, Rowan still felt a prick of guilt when he considered the possibility of humiliating them by not showing up. Or showing up without bothering to look at least presentable. He wasn’t so sure about Luna, but he felt confident Rosalie would care how he dressed on this day, with the whole city showing up to see them wed. It wasn’t the end of the world if he put on better clothes for a few hours. They weren’t even that uncomfortable.

But he was still struggling with the tie as he stood in front of the window, letting the breeze ruffle his hair. He wasn’t even remotely nervous. He was furious. He was so angry he could spit fire, and the problem with that was that he did not mean it in the metaphorical sense. He felt ready to burn down the whole city. Part of him thought it preferable to going through with this.

Dragons didn’t shackle themselves to others – his love was either freely given or not all. And right now, there was no love to speak of.

As if to prove him wrong, the door opened, soft footsteps alerting him of another presence and he turned sharply, the air which had shimmered with the heat he was giving off, suddenly clearing as his eyes fell on his mother. Expression softening slightly, Rowan clamped down on his instincts, controlling himself with some effort. His skin was still hot to the touch as she put her much colder hands on his face, but at least he wouldn’t burn her.  

“Can you please help me with this?” he gestured at the skinny tie around his neck. “I can’t figure out the knot,” Rowan had managed not to wince at her wistful words. He’d been a man for centuries and she’d helped raise him up, so if she felt like she needed to be a little maudlin right now, he wouldn’t be cruel about it. He was getting married, after all, and he hoped Morrigan, at least, could find reason to be hopeful, for he sure as shit wasn’t.