for old times' sake
rowaelin month day 6, prompt: “the firstborn arrives.”
post-canon fic
a/n: the beginning is a little Aedion/Aelin-centric but has more Rowan content toward the end. also this was supposed to be purely fluffy shenanigans, but it got a little deep oops
wordcount: 3.5k
tw: language
Aedion Ashryver was going out of his godsdamned mind.
When he had received the message at Caraverre after nearly a year of his cousin commanding him to stay away—saying there was nothing for him to do in Orynth and that he was to enjoy his time with his wife in their territory—telling him to rush to Terassen’s capital city to an attend to an urgent matter, but not specifying what that matter was, he had been filled with nothing but dread.
Lysandra had tried to calm him to no avail their entire, frantic journey, where they had only stopped to rest when when their mounts were on the verge of collapse, riding hard and fast for Orynth until they were aching and sweating on at the outskirts of the city’s towering white walls.
It had been nearly a decade since the war against Erawan and Maeve, but Aedion still woke some nights in a cold sweat after nightmares darkened his sleep with images of his blood-streaked hands as he fought outside Orynth’s walls, or Lysandra lying in a cot with fiery hatred in her eyes, or his cousin trapped in an iron coffin across the sea.
So, he didn’t think that the fact that his first reaction upon receiving the vague message was a sense of wrongness that made it hard to breathe, a fear that coated his bones and weighed him down, was all that unwarranted.
Even as Lysandra tried to console him, he could see the worry weighing on her, too, the bitten cuticles, the dark circles under her eyes, and the sight hit him like a blow to the gut.
He knew it was probably nothing, that if something was truly wrong, he would know somehow, either through the blood oath or the bond that had always tied him and Aelin together.
Still, arriving at the palace and being led to the waiting chambers outside the Queen’s suite without being given any information—other than that the queen had ordered them to wait there until further notice—had made him want to bash his head against the wall, even more so when the servant who had escorted them darted away before he could shake answers out of him.
He and Lysandra had been pacing a rut in the marble floor of the chambers for an hour when the doors they had entered through flew open and a disheveled Elide and Lorcan had stumbled in, smelling like horse. They must have ridden in from Perranth, then. Before they could even exchange pleasantries, the air near the wall had rippled, and Fenrys had appeared, panting, wasting no time before asking, “Does anyone know what the fuck is going on?”
They could only shake their heads. Elide and Lorcan apparently had been away as long as they had, Aelin dissuading them anytime they asked to come back to Orynth. And Fenrys had just returned to the continent days ago, getting the message to return while resting in Suria after his journeys across the ocean.
Any servants that passed outside the closed doors scurried away before they could demand answers.
There was also no sign of Rowan, either, which had the pit in Aedion’s stomach growing every moment that passed without seeing the silver-haired prince, knowing that he out of everyone would give them an honest response. But he never showed.
So now, nearly three hours after he had first arrived, they still had no fucking clue why they had been summoned so urgently. And, from his spot sitting against the back wall of the chambers, facing the narrow hallway that led to the private rooms of the suite, Aedion was damn near losing it.
Even Fenrys was on edge, having shifted to his wolf form at some point during the afternoon to begin pacing the perimeter of the room.
Hell, even Lorcan, despite keeping his usual stoic facade plastered on his face, seemingly bored was clutching Elide’s hand as tightly as she was clutching his.
Aedion had just closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, when he heard footsteps, this time from further inside the suite, instead of passing by outside. He shoved himself to his feet, heart crawling into his throat.
A door down the hall opened, and Lysandra straightened out of the corner of his eye.
More heavy footsteps, getting closer and closer, and then Rowan rounded the corner, his hair a mess, like he had been running his fingers through it, and eyes on his hands in front of him. It took him a few steps for him to look up and notice there were others in the room, and when he did, he pulled up short, blinking blearily at them all, silver eyebrows pinched together.
It was then Aedion inhaled sharply, identifying the coppery smell that now permeated the room.
Though he had seemingly wiped it from his hands, the scent of blood still clung to him. Aelin’s blood.
Fenrys growled. Aedion was going to be sick. Something was wrong, of course something was wrong, why else would they all be called here without being told anything—
And then, when Aedion met Rowan’s gaze, taking in the male’s red-rimmed eyes and the drying tear tracks on his cheeks, every thought eddied from his head.
He swayed, falling back against the wall behind him, as if it could hold him up, could stop this from happening. Lysandra’s hand landed on his arm, but he barely felt it.
Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods.
But despite the evidence that he had been crying, Rowan looked more bewildered than devastated as he took in them all, as he felt the tension in the room, which somehow made it all worse. But after a moment where they all simply stared at each other, understanding dawned on the prince’s face, the pieces seemingly clicking together as he shook his head.
Then he cracked the smallest of smiles.
Why was the hell Rowan smiling?
Apparently, Lorcan figured it out first, barking out a sharp laugh that popped the silence. The dark-haired warrior shook his head, then, to everyone’s shock, he strode across the room and pulled Rowan into a tight embrace.
Aedion was going to pass out if somebody didn’t explain this very second what was going on.
Fenrys, apparently, shared the sentiment, shifting in a flash of light and taking a step toward Rowan. “Rowan, what the fuck? Where the hell is Aelin—?”
Rowan only pulled back from Lorcan, giving him a nod of what seemed like gratitude as the demi-fae returned to Elide’s side, and held a hand up, cutting Fenrys off.
It was then Aedion heard it.
The soft, shuffling footsteps, cloth scraping on stone, from deeper in the chambers, growing closer.
Rowan let out an exasperated sigh, and called over his shoulder, toward the footsteps, “I suppose this is your doing?”
Another shuffle, then a sharp outtake of breath that had Rowan turning back toward the direction he came from, concern flaring on his face. Some of the tension in him eased when the shuffling started up again.
“What can I say? I was feeling nostalgic for some old-fashioned scheming.” The sound of Aelin’s voice, weak, but alive, had Aedion closing his eyes even as his heart continued stuttering.
“I told you to wait in bed.”
“And miss the culmination of months of planning? I don’t think so, buzzard.” Another several steps. “Also, before she left, Yrene told me that I could take a short walk down the hall if I was feeling up to it.”
And then Aelin rounded the corner, hobbling, and Rowan reached out to pull her into his side, and Aedion’s heart lurched in his chest.
His cousin looked utterly drained, dressed in a simple shift, her hair hanging in tangles around her face.
But there was a light in her eyes, a quiet joy radiating from both her and Rowan that he had completely missed in his panic.
And the source of that happiness was right there, nestled to her chest, wrapped in a soft blanket.
A baby.
A baby.
“Everyone,” Aelin cleared her throat. “I’d like you meet Eliora Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, Princess of Terrasen.” Aelin glanced up at Rowan, who was smiling down at her, love blazing in his eyes. “Our daughter.”
A daughter. The first child of their court, of their better world.
Aedion’s vision blurred as he dropped his head back to rest against the wall, mind spinning, doing the math in his head. He hadn’t known she was pregnant. Aelin had first shooed him and Lysandra away just over a year ago, around the same time Fenrys left on an overseas diplomatic mission and the Lochans returned to Perranth to oversee the building of an orphanage there. And considering the length of Fae pregnancies, she must have been planning this from the moment she found out she was expecting, one last grand reveal to scare them all shitless. Suddenly, all those missives from Aelin telling them to stay away these past months—and the lack of contact from Rowan, who seemed just as surprised as they all did—made sense.
He was definitely going to be sick.
Everyone—except Lorcan, who was still chuckling softly—also seemed to be at a loss.
Until Lysandra, already sobbing, squealed, “You bitch!” then threw herself at Aelin, ignoring the way Rowan tensed and Aelin angled the baby so she wouldn’t be crushed in their embrace.
That was all the invitation everyone needed, and they all moved forward to encircle the new parents.
Except Aedion, who hung back, still trying to calm his pounding heart as he watched them all ooh and ahh over the newborn. Elide was the first to hold her, even as she berated Aelin the whole time for not telling anyone, before the baby was passed around the circle. Aelin had to keep a hand on Rowan’s chest the whole time, the male’s fists clenched at his side, as if restraining him from snatching his daughter back to the safety of his arms. To Aelin’s absolute delight, the baby—little Eliora—woke and started crying when she was passed to Lorcan, and Aelin took her back from him, swaying her side to side and humming.
Motherhood looked good on his cousin.
The relief and happiness of the moment made his knees wobble.
As she shushed the little girl, Aelin’s eyes scanned the room, no doubt looking for the missing member of their little family. When they finally landed on Aedion, still leaning against the wall as the rest of their court fawned over the new princess, and understanding flickered on her face, followed by a hint of guilt.
She held up a single finger in his direction—one moment—and he gave a weak nod, not even sure he could cross the room to meet her if he wanted to.
She handed to baby to Rowan, who looked down and cooed—cooed, the famously brutal Rowan Whitethorn, whom Aedion had heard stories about since he was a wee boy, whom Aedion once watched suck the life out of dozens of Valg soldiers with nothing but a wave of his hand, cooed—at his daughter, eyes bright.
Aelin took a moment to smile at them, expression fond, before hobbling in his direction. Fenrys tried to step up and give her his arm, but she swatted him away, and Aedion pushed off the wall, somewhere between wanting to strangle his cousin and pulling her tight to him and never letting go.
“Hi,” she murmured when she finally stood in front of him.
He smiled, throat tight. “Hi.”
They both stared at each other for a moment, before trying to speak at once. “I’m sorry I scared you—” at the same time he blurted, “Congratulations—”
They both laughed a little, the silence between them a little awkward, before Aedion decided to address her statement.
“I just… When we got here, and nobody would tell us what the fuck was going on…” He ran his hands through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. “I assumed the worst.”
He opened his eyes in time to see her wince, jaw working. “I’m sorry. I truly am.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I got too caught up in the whole idea and didn’t think it through. And I hope you can forgive me.”
He forced a laugh out. “Did my little cousin just admit she was wrong? Someone get a scribe in here.”
She slapped at his arm. “Ass.”
He sent her a grin, the last of his worry fading as he took her in, the exhaustion lining her face not enough to dim the radiance oozing from her. And when he looked over his shoulder to see Rowan still rocking the baby in his arms, making faces at her, he found he couldn’t stay mad for long.
“Holy shit,” he whispered. “A baby. You had a baby.”
They certainly were not the only children of Terrasen any longer, lost and scattered to the wind.
She bobbed her head, and her eyes were bright. “I did.”
Emotion formed a knot in his throat. “A princess.”
A broken laugh left her, and then she stumbled the last few steps to him, and he pulled her to his chest. They stayed like that for a few moments, clutching each other.
“I wish you every happiness, cousin,” he murmured low in her ear.
When Aelin pulled back, her eyes were glassy with tears, and her smile was wobbly. “Back at you.” She cleared her throat, putting her hands on her hips. “Now, enough of this. Come meet your niece.”
~
Aelin stood in her rooms hours later, well after they had bid their family good night. Even though she knew she should lay her daughter in the bassinet by their bed, she was still clutching a sleeping Eliora to her chest as she faced the open windows to the balcony when she felt her mate enter and ease the door closed behind him.
“Was that really necessary?”
Aelin smiled to herself, closing her eyes, knowing he was talking about the little surprise she had pulled. She was honestly shocked she had pulled it off, months and months of reassuring her court that they weren’t needed and evading Rowan’s questions as to why their family had yet to visit, though he certainly hadn’t been complaining about having the palace to themselves, not having to share any fussing duties.
“Nothing like stopping everyone’s hearts in their chest to really make me miss the good old days.” Rowan huffed, moving closer as Aelin went on. “Things were getting a little too lax around here. It’s my duty as queen to remind everyone to stay on their toes.”
Rowan laughed outright at that, and Aelin opened her eyes, still facing the city of Orynth sprawled out before her from her view at the top of the tower. “You say lax, I say peace at last.”
Aelin waved the hand not cradling their daughter. “Same difference.”
Rowan padded closer to her until she could feel the heat of him behind her, and she leaned back into him. Slowly, he wound his arms around her from behind, careful of jostling her still sore body, muscles aching from the labor earlier that day despite the little healing her drop of water magic had provided, granting her a bit more mobility than if she didn’t have it, according to Yrene.
She hummed in content, and Rowan started stroking his hands up and down her arms. “You really got us good.”
She scoffed, leaning her head back against his shoulder, relishing in his warmth. “You’re just bitter I didn’t loop you in.”
He growled softly, the sound reverberating through her bones, and she shivered. “I just want to be prepared, so when Elide looks at me like she wants to skin me alive because she thinks I’m in on it, it’s actually warranted. So, yes, next time, a heads-up would be nice.”
“Next time? My, my, someone’s awfully optimistic.”
He nipped at her ear playfully, knowing full well that they had always been on the same page about a big family, even though labor wasn’t something she was looking forward to experiencing again anytime soon.
“You have to admit, the looks on their faces were absolutely priceless.”
“Oh, absolutely, totally worth getting my hand nearly broken during labor.”
She laughed, pinching the hand he had rested on her stomach, and Eliora stirred a little in her arms at the sound.
“Hush, little one,” Rowan whispered, reaching down to stroke her cheek with his thumb. “Momma and Dadda are here.”
Her eyes pricked at the words, a smile drifting across her face, a smile that faded as the minutes went on in quiet. She knew her mate was just soaking in the moment, but Aelin…
Despite her joking, she wasn’t sure the haunted expression in Aedion’s eyes was one she would soon forget, the tightness of his mouth and the paleness of his skin she had glimpsed in the brief moments before he had spotted Eliora.
Rowan, picking up her change in mood, ever so gently pulled her closer. “I’m sure Aedion will forgive you for the shock… eventually.” His voice was still light, teasing her, but the small circles his fingers made on the arm that was holding Eliora were soothing, reassuring. It’s okay.
Aelin sighed, her voice small. “Sometimes I think I’ve gotten so good at pushing those… those wounds down and ignoring them that I forget they might be a little closer to the surface for the others. I didn’t even think…” She swallowed. “I didn’t even think that his mind might go there.”
Rowan hummed, bringing one tattooed hand up to brush a strand of light hair back from Eliora’s forehead, and the baby gurgled softly in her sleep. The sight had her heart twisting. “Pushing them down?”
Of course her mate would narrow in on that one bit of what she said. Her chest warmed, even as her throat grew tight.
It wasn’t often she liked talking about this, even with Rowan.
“Like, they’ll always be there, you know?” He nodded, and Aelin took a moment to collect herself before going on. “And I think…” Rowan kissed the top of her head in encouragement. “I think that’s part of the reason I didn’t tell them. Yeah, I wanted my dramatic entrance, but more than that… I didn’t want to get their hopes up. Just in case.”
And there it was, the truth she knew deep in her soul: a tiny, scarred part of her that had been brutalized time and time again, one she had tried to desperately to stifle, had been terrified the whole pregnancy that this would be ripped from her, from them, like so many things had been before.
When she felt a drop of a tear on her bare shoulder, without having to turn around and meet his gaze, she knew that her husband got it. Neither of them had ever thought that this, the little light cradled against her chest, would ever be in the cards for them, and they had fought tooth and nail to make it happen.
And she was beautiful. Perfect.
“But I think maybe it’s moments like this…” Without realizing it, Aelin had started crying again, too, and she swallowed hard, looking down at her husband’s arms wrapped around her, her daughter snuggled tightly in her arms. “Maybe it’s moments like this that make all of that worth it?”
At that, as if on cue, Eliora opened her eyes and let out a piercing wail, and Aelin couldn’t help but give a watery laugh as she began rocking the princess from side to side. Rowan chuckled, too, even if the sound was a little rough. “Seems someone has a penchant for dramatic moments… wonder who she got that from.”
“Obviously from you,” Aelin deadpanned, and he chuckled again even as tears continued to fall. “I mean she killed it with her timing earlier. Arriving a few hours before everyone else did? Couldn’t have planned it better if I tried.”
“Great, so now there’s two of you.” Rowan’s voice was dry. “Gods have mercy on my soul.”
Aelin laughed, tears finally easing to a stop, and Rowan wiped a few stray ones from her cheeks before tightening his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head. When he spoke after a few minutes of swaying to calm Eliora, his voice was soft. “I know what you mean. Even though sometimes, on days like today especially—” he cupped Eliora’s head in his calloused hand at that “— it’s hard to believe it’s real, it’s all just… such a gift.”
And that was all that needed to be said, really.
So, as she stood in her chambers, overlooking the glittering lights of her city below with her mate at her back as they soothed their baby girl back to sleep, she knew what she had said earlier had been right.
If this was the result, then it had all been worth it.
