#royal rebels

[stardustlegacy-cosplay]

"Scream your heart out on the ultimate stage! Royal Rebel's Hard Rock!" 🎙💥

Roa Kirishima: me

📸 & 🖌: OH3-Studios

[mariaofdoranelle]

The Circus

Rowaelin Month 2022 — Day 4: Royalty/Modern Royalty AU

I made this so anyone is able to read it, but it’s inside the Royal Rebels universe! Before they had a Fae queen to kill lol I loved writing this so much

Warnings: language, NSFW, chipped tooth

Word count: 2,9k

|/\| |/\| ｡･ﾟ･(ﾉД`)ヽ(￣ω￣ ) |/\| |/\|

“Aedion, you know I hate the circus.”

“Still, you go there every year.”

“Because you make me.”

“Should I start counting how many times a year you make me go to the Royal Theatre?”

“That’s not the same!”

Aedion only sighed and didn’t say a thing. He didn’t need to, they both knew he accompanied Aelin in all of her public appearances, worrying about her safety ever since they were children.

The reason she was avoiding the circus this year had a name, a warrior’s body and a royal household: Rowan Whitethorn. Her cousin Galan decided to bring him and Fenrys to Orynth, and Aelin was the only person smart enough to doubt his intentions. Queen Maeve’s nephew was in her kingdom, plotting something in her castle halls and distracting Aelin with his teeth and tongue. She didn’t know about his political goals, the only intention of his she was sure of was the one Rowan showed in the bedroom, and Aelin had no idea how to feel about that.

After hearing Aedion’s plans, she got ready and left before he came back to retrieve her and meet everyone at the southwestern gates. During their walk, Aelin would have to either make small talk with Rowan or hear Aedion inquire him about war stories. Their destination was too far to stand this.

The circus was in an area which one could clearly see the Staghorn Mountains behind the afternoon skies, and Aelin was always mesmerized by Terrasen’s sights. There were a lot of announcements and chatter going on, so her Fae sense of smell led her to the food. After buying a snack, she just wandered around without entering any attractions.

Aelin didn’t know what got into her, but she decided to enter the small line to see the fortune-teller. The inside was a bit dark and had lots of candles and crystals, but the woman sat behind the table rooted Aelin to the spot.

“Elide, what the hell are you doing here?”

Her friend shrugged. “I came into this tent and there was no one here. Then a guy came right after and asked if I could read his fortune.”

“And you said you could,” she presumed, clearly amused.

“Yeah, why not? The poor guy was a wreck, he could use some encouragement.”

Aelin cackled. “Come on, then. Tell me my fate, fortune-teller.”

Elide did a show of closing her eyes and breathing deep, just before gripping a crystal ball and shuddering like she was receiving divine intervention. Then she exhaled and slowly opened her eyes, looking directly into Aelin’s eyes.

“You have a complex, flourishing love life.”

That was one way to make Aelin’s heart race. Jerking on her seat, she blurted, “How in hell do you know that?”

Trying to hide a smile, Elide bit her lip. “Fenrys told Ren who told me.” She giggled. “I miss you at breakfast, by the way.”

Relaxing but still a bit apprehensive, Aelin asked, “Do you think I’m making a bad move?”

“You’re asking me if he’ll kill you in your sleep?”

“Oh, come on!”

“He could be on a quest to kill you, but I really don’t think that’s the case.” Aelin frowned, making Elide continue. “I’m serious! It’s not his fault he has a creepy old aunt. Besides, the Ashryvers like him.”

Aelin pouted. “I’m paying you to read my fortune, not to defend a Whitethorn.”

Laughing, Elide objected, “You aren’t even paying me!”

Trying and failing to suppress a grin, Aelin slammed a few copper coins into the table. “Fortune. Now.”

Elide tilted her head up and cackled. Then she recomposed herself in a serious tone and revealed, “You’re getting laid tonight.”

“Fuck you!”

“No, dear, that’s your fate.”

Aelin was torn between laughing and gaping at her friend’s bluntness, but she shook her head in mock-disapproval. “Kids these days have no respect for the royal family.”

“You better lick my boots, Galathynius. I’ll have a chair in your council in no time,” Elide snarked.

Snorting at the ridicule threat, Aelin jerked her head towards the exit. “Come on, before the real fortune-teller shows up.”

The two of them just roamed through the circus, making each other taste different snacks and gossiping—mostly about a love triangle between a guard, a cook and a horse groomer. One of the perks of living in a castle with hundreds of people was that things never got boring. The downside of it: you could quickly become the talk of the castle. Just like Aelin was last week, when she burned Rowan’s door out of anger. Oops.

The people strolling outside became progressively scarce, all of them heading towards the sword-thrower. It wasn’t their favorite attraction, but Aelin and Elide decided to check what was that commotion about.

They entered the tent to find nothing more than a shirtless Fenrys Moonbeam making a spectacle out of his apparent task of throwing swords. First Elide, now Fenrys. What was up with her friends wanting to work at the circus?

Apart from the knife-thrower’s poor assistant, there was also small band with string instruments. The task was clear: get a blade and throw it around the girl. However, Fenrys mas making a spectacle out of it. He danced while spinning, flipping and twirling the knives through the air, and Aelin didn’t know if people were more focused on his skills or on his bare upper body. Even the assistant he was pretending to aim at was swooning. Fenrys was sharing the stage with the actual sword-thrower, but Aelin didn’t think anyone noticed. He was the real show-stopper.

Besides, Fenrys had to put some oil in there, there was no way his abs were so shiny. By this sight, Aelin began to wonder what the hell happened at Rowan’s army base for the two them to be so ripped. Aelin’s lips parted as she pictured it. Was it the hundreds of years of intense training? For Mala’s sake, were all of his soldiers like this?

A calloused hand gripped her hip, snapping Aelin out of her thoughts, and when she closed her eyes, the only thing she could feel was its weight and a scent of pine and snow.

“I can smell your thoughts from here, and I don’t like them,” a raspy voice breathed in her ear.

Rowan’s canines ran against Aelin’s neck, but without piercing it. Not quite claiming, but still made her shiver.

Turning her face to meet Rowan’s, she found his darkened eyes firm into hers.

“Can’t I appreciate the sight?” she provoked right before turning her gaze back to the stage.

“Don’t tease me,” he said while running a possessive hand against Aelin’s body.

Her breath hitched, and she leaned against him, grinding her bottom against his building arousal. If he wanted to play with fire, she was fine with it. And Aelin expected no mercy from him after she bit back.

Grabbing her chin and yanking her face towards his, Rowan commanded, “Outside. Now.”

The snark comment was on the tip of her tongue, but Aelin knew it’d just prove his point further if she picked on his less than charming manners when it actually turned her on. Just to have the last word and tease him further, she pressed harder against Rowan and licked her lips, inviting him to follow her with her best attempt at bedroom eyes. If someone noticed what they were doing, she didn’t care by now. Light-headed, Aelin didn’t even ponder on how she was aching to replay what they did together that same day, just a bit before dawn.

It wasn’t hard to find a safe space, since the whole circus stopped to watch Fenrys. As soon as they were secluded enough, Rowan trapped her against a wagon and kissed her.

His hands were everywhere — her face, breasts, waist — and it still wasn’t enough. Aelin was filled with ecstasy, but it was never enough when it came to Rowan.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered. And then brushed his thumb against her nipple through her clothes, whispering on her ear, “Milady.”

Aelin’s whole body shivered, and she quickly obeyed. Calling her that was a low blow, and Rowan knew how to use it. She unfastened her pants just enough for him to sneak his hand in, and kissed him again.

“Eager much, Princess?”

“Shut up.”

Slipping his hand inside her clothes, Rowan darted two fingers between her folds and squeezed her clit between two fingers, his grip precise enough to make her cry out with pleasure.

With one hand slightly choking her neck, he commanded, “I want no sass while I’m having my way with you, do you hear me?”

Aelin nodded, hoping he didn’t notice the new flush of warmth spreading below her waist.

Keeping eye contact, Rowan slipped two fingers inside her at once, making her muffle a moan on his shoulder. He maintained a rhythmic pace, applying extra pressure on that spot that made her see stars. Aelin’s heart was pounding, and she felt intoxicated by his touch.

She pulled his hair, kissing and biting his neck without piercing it. Ever so responsive, he growled and added a thumb to his ministrations, pressing her nub. Aelin was writhing, her legs too shaky, and she held Rowan tighter to support herself.

“Do you like being fingered at a dirty circus, Milady?”

“I hate you so much,” she said between moans.

“I thought you agreed to be a nice little slut today, Princess.”

But Aelin didn’t answer this time. The growing burning sensation she was feeling peaked, and she tried to not be too loud as her walls spasmed around Rowan’s fingers.

Panting, she was staring at Rowan expectantly, but he sucked his fingers to swallow her juices and did nothing more.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“No.”

Aelin’s jaw went slack, incredulous. “What do you mean, no?”

He made a show of looking around. “You really think I’m gonna fuck you in here like a stray dog?”

Aelin gaped at the stuck-up bastard. She didn’t even know why she bothered with him. Walking slowly because her underwear was too wet, they made it back to the sword-throwing area, but the show had already ended.

As soon as they found the guys, Aedion smelled the air and looked so disturbed it was amusing. “Seriously, Ace? Now?” he whisper-yelled.

Aelin sent him a cocky smirk, making her cousin look at the setting skies, mutter something and leave to seek Galan and Fenrys.

It turns out they were close to the most crowded food vendor: the one selling beer. Deciding to indulge a little, Aelin gulped down a cup of this thing that tasted like... nothing. It was very watery, with no flavor whatsoever. That beer was very different from what she used to taste at the castle, but it would do.

In no time, Fenrys reappeared with something she couldn’t identify, and almost shoveled it in her face. The smell she scented made Aelin’s eyes go wide. “How did you find this?”

He brought Fae beer. It was so strong only a few places were allowed to sell it in Orynth.

“Just ask the vendor for Temis’s blessing. Tip from the hot magician’s assistant,” Fenrys replied with what Aelin was starting to recognize as his trademark smirk.

She shook her head in reproach and amusement at the same time. Temis, the Goddess of Wild Things, is probably insulted by now. “This is illegal, you know?”

“Oh, no!” Fenrys gasped and placed a hand on his chest, pretending to be horrified. “Someone should tell the Royal Family.”

Aelin cackled and gulped her Fae beer down.

Managing to find a table after a while, Galan asked for them to update him on the castle gossip of the moment. Elide’s narration was so good it held everyone’s attention, even if most of them knew the story already.

“So after she and the guard finally got together, she found out she’s pregnant of the cook and—“

“She’s lying,” a deep voice interrupted Elide’s explanation.

All heads turned to Rowan. The place was packed and loud with drunk conversation in the background, but the table stopped to stare and wait for him to explain.

“Her pregnant scent has Fae tones. It’d make more sense if the guard was the father, since he’s the only one with noticeable Fae blood among the three,” Rowan said like it was an obvious conclusion.

Dear Mala. Rowan Whitethorn was a gossip. Aelin did a mental note to think about this later.

Everyone in the table froze, too stunned to comment this new twist, until Aedion shook his head and exclaimed, “That bitch!”

“Hey!” Elide shouted before coming into the woman’s defense. The table erupted, every one having a different opinion about this gossip that would change absolutely nothing about their lives.

Her cousin Galan, always the quiet one, just offered a candy apple he’d just bought, which she gladly took. Aelin generally got involved in those kind of arguments, but watching Elide lose her shit in a shouting match with Aedion was too good and rare to interfere.

It was an apple with a hard, sugary cover that tasted absolutely delicious. She bit it without giving much thought, focused on the argument in front of her, but there was a small part of the candy apple that wouldn’t dissolve. Aelin spit it in her mouth and frowned at what she saw. It didn’t look like part of the apple at all.

“Aelin.” Galan called her attention, his shoulders shaking with a repressed laugh. “Your front teeth.” He put a hand covering his mouth, trying to look serious.

Running her tongue against her front teeth, Aelin noticed something.

A gap.

Holy rutting Mala.

Her front tooth was chipped.

Aelin gaped, trying to make sense of it, until she noticed Fenrys’s attention was on her. When their eyes met and he looked at her shocked face, he started guffawing so loud some people started staring at him.

Aedion stopped mid-argument to see what was going on and his eyes widened. She instantly closed her mouth, but it was too late. He started laughing along. “Oh fuck,” her cousin said while wheezing, “Your parents are going to kill me.”

“Fuck you!” she shouted. Aelin hated when people acted like Aedion was “in charge” of her.

Always observant, Rowan just got up and beelined to her.

“Give me the tooth.”

“What the fuck are you going to do with it?” Was this part of Maeve’s plan? Stealing teeth?

Running a distressed hand through his hair, he fumed, “I have soldiers. This won’t be first one I fix. Now give me. The fucking. Tooth.”

Rowan looked disgusted by how sticky the piece of tooth was from all the candy Aelin had, but took it anyway.

“Okay, now clean it.”

“With the beer?” How in hell was she supposed to do it?

Sighing, he had the tooth in one hand and used the other to pinch the bridge of his nose. “With your water magic.”

Oh god, he had no idea, had he? Aelin furrowed her eyebrows, pushing herself to her limits, and sent all of her water magic towards his hand.

And watched a single drop of water fall above the tooth, doing nothing to clean it.

“Can you at least cooperate?” he scolded.

Aelin recoiled on her seat, blinking at the bastard’s audacity. “That’s all I can do,” she hissed, “But if you want me to burn it to a crisp, count me in.”

Frowning, he murmured to himself, “People weren’t kidding when they said it went all to the fire.” He blinked. “Wait a minute.”

One of the drunk patrons that noticed what happened overheard Rowan asking the vendor for some water, and decided to help by screaming, “BOWL OF WATER FOR THE TOOTHLESS LADY!”

Rowan didn’t take long to clean that small piece of tooth and arrange their seats so he could properly stick his hands inside her mouth in the least sexy way imaginable. When Aelin placed a few spots of fire around them to help, he scoffed. She knew his Fae vision was more than enough, but it was dark and the stakes were too high for her to risk anything. Aelin couldn’t afford to become the Toothless Queen.

While Rowan’s magic glued Aelin’s teeth back together, the patrons watched it expectantly, like it was one of the circus’s attractions.

“You go, silver dude!”

“Do you think he’ll make it?”

“I hope he does. Marrying is hard for the toothless.”

“I thought he was her husband.”

“He could be my husband.”

They were either too drunk to notice her features or too focused on her chipped tooth, but thankfully no one seemed to notice the fire magic or Ashryver eyes that distinguished her as Princess Aelin Galathynius. At least one small mercy.

After a few minutes, Rowan’s hand retreated, and the gap wasn’t there anymore.

Rowan Whitethorn had just fixed her tooth, in a circus, with a crowd watching them, and he actually did a good job.

Fenrys stood on a chair and announced, “THE TOOTH LIVES!”

The whole place erupted, cheering and asking for another round of beer as they celebrated... whatever they were celebrating.

A few people started to shook Aelin’s hand and ask her to smile at them and show the tooth, so she directed herself away from the vendors, finding Rowan on her way.

“For what it’s worth, you don’t look that bad toothless.”

The remembrance of her own public humiliation made Aelin groan. “That’s the least sexy thing you’ve ever done to me.”

Rowan smirked. “You won’t be repeating that later tonight.”

general + royal rebels tag list:

@morganofthewildfire

@elentiyawhitethorn

@leiawritesstories

@throneofus7

@a-man-with-both-hearts-broken

@swankii-art-teacher

@rowanaelinn

@thegreyj

@autumnbabylon

[mariaofdoranelle]

Royal Rebels — Prologue

Masterlist

I’m so so happy to show you this! I was going to wait a little more to post, but I got a little eager today and I already have an outline and 15k words so what’s the point of waiting? Lol

I’m going to use my general tag list now for the heads up and then make a different one for this au so let me know if you want to be tagged!

The prologue will be right below the synopsis. I hope you like it!

CW: cursing, small fire

Word count: 2,2k

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

When Queen Maeve starts taking merciless measures to save Doranelle from an economic collapse, two old enemies, frenemies with benefits, lovers, acquaintances, Princess Aelin Galathynius and Prince Rowan Whitethorn, must reunite to reach one goal: kill Maeve without starting a war. However, as they get closer to the Fae Queen, Aelin and Rowan might need to overcome old issues and wounds in order to work together efficiently, considering how quickly they could become the prey.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

One year before

As Aelin sauntered into the closet she kept exclusively for her arms and armor collection, she mused about the line between loving a weapon and becoming one. Among her pieces it was easy to spot ones that were historical, personalized, jeweled, blades made of watered steel, armors made of gold. The room was big enough to have a small party inside, but Aelin didn’t want to stall. She took a deep breath, picked a dagger and some other blades and left.

Sneaking out of the castle wasn’t news to her, but she still got a little thrill on the first moments out on the streets. No guards, no bowing down or tiptoeing around her, not one person afraid of the Fire-Bringer. As much as Aelin looked forward to her future as a queen, she loved to be able to blend into the streets and just get lost in the crowds sometimes.

Thankfully, she didn’t need to ask directions to get to her favorite blacksmith. Aelin knew she could hire a small team just to forge and take care of her weapons if that was her wish, but she preferred to be discreet and take care of them herself. Every little thing Aelin did ended up being attached to her fire magic and reinforced people’s ideas on how she would act as a ruler, whether the opinion was good or bad. Her military power had been proved enough since her childhood, adding it to the attachment she had to her weapons and training... It would be too much, specially when Aelin’s temper occasionally got the best of her. Terrasen was a peaceful kingdom, if she tried hard enough, people would realize she could be a good match for a queen.

But she was used to it now, Aelin thought as she walked down the streets of Orynth and bought whatever street vendors tried to sell her, fulfilling her father’s exhausted wish that If you insist on sneaking out, at least help boosting the economy. When the sunlight got stronger and her skin started to tingle, Aelin thoughtlessly tugged at her magic, but stopped before her hand was filled with bright flames.

Anyway, her weapon situation wasn’t a real problem. Aelin could still do her thing. It just needed to be toned-down, so people wouldn’t perceive her as The Bloodthirsty Queen. However, that didn’t stop her from showing off to the few people she trusted, her cousin Galan being one of them. He was a bit late on his trip to visit her, something about two friends surprising him in Varese. She didn’t remember the details in the letter anymore, just told her court lady to include those friends in the arrangements.

Entering the costumer’s antechamber, Aelin waved at the blacksmith’s assistant, who already knew what she was there for. He immediately blushed and then waved back, but stumbled on a few boxes on his way because he kept looking at her while walking. Aelin only stopped to analyze her surroundings when an intoxicating smell of pine and snow assaulted her senses. When she looked for the source of it, there was a set of pine green eyes staring at her, sending a thrill on her body that made the flames beneath her skin dance.

Aelin had absolutely no control over her legs when she walked to him. It wasn’t even like her to flirt with random people. If anything happened, she would just tell herself she slipped and fell on hot stranger’s lap. “Well, that’s a fancy sword you have picked.”

Hot nice-smelling stranger had a tiny smirk on his lips before he opened his mouth and closed it again and looked at her thoughtfully. “Are you familiar with them?”

Aelin leaned on the table and stroked gently the blade closest to her. “Familiar enough to be one of Brullo’s favorite costumers. You seem like potential competition.” Aelin tilted her head, making her neck visible as her hair fell to the side, and sized him up.

Pine green-eyed stranger set his sword with a pine green hilt on the table and angled his body towards her, reducing their distance. “Is Brullo the blacksmith or the assistant? Do you think I can compete if it’s the latter?”

Aelin’s breath halted. “I think you can handle it just fine.”

Aelin could clearly see hot stranger’s pupils dilating until it swallowed most of his irises. “I assume you’re from Orynth.”

“I assume you aren’t.”

“No. I’ll be here for a handful of weeks, probably. It’s not up to me.”

“And that requires this gigantic sword?”

He twirled the sword on his hand. “I left mine at home, and you never know the next dragon you’ll have to slay.”

Was Hot Stranger a fantasy book reader too? Aelin smirked at him. “Are you here on vacation or on duty?”

Rowan glanced at a blonde Fae who had just neglected the weapons he was choosing to flirt with another costumer. After a deep sigh, he answered, “A mix of both.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Is that so?”

Hot Stranger snorted, “Sometimes you have to stop people from making a disaster.”

They were interrupted by the assistant coming with Aelin’s new dagger, which was absolutely stunning. Its size was perfect for her to carry around, and the blade was simple, slim and silver. However, the hilt was ornamented with gold in lots of small, wavy forms that looked like flames. She had payed in advance, so she put the blade away after admiring it for a little longer. Hot Stranger was looking thoughtfully at her when she focused back on him.

“What’s your name?”

Aelin hoped he didn’t see her fidget while she replied, “Celaena. Yours?”

“Rowan,” he said before slightly biting his lips, “Where can I find you in Orynth?”

She tilted her head and grimaced. “You won’t.” She wasn’t happy with that answer, he really seemed like a good ride. However, Aelin couldn’t. Rowan was completely off-limits. If her cousin Aedion or her father even suspected she had escaped the castle to buy weapons and ended up flirting with a foreign Fae stranger twice her size, she’d never see the end of it.

His brows furrowed. “Well, that’s a shame, Celaena.”

She took a deep breath. “Indeed.”

On her walk back home, Aelin kept replaying the moments with Rowan in her head, but she was sure it was because she was bored. In fact, she was so bored she got ready early reading in her room until Aedion picked her up.

“Excited, Ae? You’re not even late,” He said with raised eyebrows before linking arms with her.”

“Shut up. You know Galan is my second favorite cousin too.” Aelin was nodding at people they passed by with her chin raised as Aedion laughed in the middle of the hall.

When they entered the Throne Room, Galan’s party was already there. She smiled broadly at him and sent a tiny wave, until she swayed a little on her steps and her mouth fell open.

By the side of her cousin, was Rowan from the blacksmith and his blonde friend. Rowan was already blinking quickly at her, as if checking his own vision. When his friend whispered something to him, he gulped and straightened his posture immediately. Adding it to the sword she saw earlier, it was easy to tell he was a military man. He could be a general from a remote area of Wendlyn, that would explain why she had never seen him when visiting Varese. That thought made her smile, and when they looked back at each other, he nodded at her with a hint of a smile. Aelin didn’t even worry about lying her name to him, she seemed to be pretty much forgiven.

She had noticed Aedion eyeing her suspiciously, but she didn’t care. The announcement of the guests was mostly brief, but the longer it kept going, the more she became curious to know what he did back in Wendlyn with her cousin. Aelin’s heart started racing as Rowan started being announced.

Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle

Wait, what?

How in hell did Maeve’s nephew get inside her castle?

Aelin sensed Aedion’s body tense besides her, too.

Maeve, the creepiest person Aelin had ever known, even though she had only read letters from her. Asking her to visit Doranelle so they could get to know each other since Aelin was born.

Queen Maeve of Doranelle, the person Aelin knew was up to no good when it came to her.

Aelin had never set foot in Doranelle for a reason, but its Queen had found a way to sneak her people into her castle.

No fucking way.

After the guests were sent to their rooms, Aelin and Aedion locked themselves in a broom closet away from prying ears and started an emergency meeting.

Aelin blurted, “Do you think he’s trying to kill me?”

Aedion clenched his jaw, making some facial muscles jump. “Over my dead body.” He seemed to mull on something while started to crack his knuckles. “We should kill him first.”

Aelin’s eyes went wide. “Are you out of your mind? He’s the most powerful Fae alive, completely war material if we kill him out of the blue.” Her body stilled. “Maybe that’s exactly what Maeve wants.” Aelin was definitely not going to be the queen who murders her guests on their first day visiting.

As if sensing her thoughts, Aedion offered, “I can kill him if you want. Take the blame and shit.”

“No. Don’t.” Aelin’s thoughts were unfocused, her heartbeat racing as she thought on other solutions, but their hands were tied. Aelin started scratching her forehead. She didn’t know much, but of one thing she was sure.

Maeve’s best lackey was here on a mission, and her idiot cousin had just led him inside.

She knew Doranelle and Wendlyn were political allies, but she didn’t know Galan and the Whitethorns were freaking buddies.

Aelin was going to dismember Galan. And then incinerate what was left of her cousin.

One moment she was with Aedion, the other going towards the Guest Wing, her cousin hot on her heels. She didn’t need to ask which room he was at, the trail of his steps was easy to follow.

“Excuse me, boys. Would you mind staying back for a little while?” She said with a sweet smile at the castle’s guards stationed beside his door, who complied without a second thought. “Wait for me here, Aedion. You’ll know if you need to come.” Aelin stared at Rowan Whitethorn’s door for a few seconds and took a deep breath. It was going to be fine.

Then she set his door on fire until it burned to a crisp and barged into his room without announcing herself. But if you really thought about it, the fire was announcement enough. Despite her big entrance, Rowan didn’t even bat an eye at her. In fact, he was sat on a couch, tending for his daggers. Shirtless. But she wouldn’t be affected by his shirtlessness. It was absolutely disgusting, the way she could trace the movement of each muscle as he wiped—

“Good evening, Celaena,” he sneered her alias, “Can I help you?”

“Absolutely.” She sat on a chair across from him, her posture perfect as she assessed him.

Rowan raised his brows at her.

“I didn’t get to compliment your choice of sword at the blacksmith earlier.” She tilted her head. “Tell me, Whitethorn, apart from fictional dragons, which other fire-wielder creatures do you plan to kill with it?”

“I believe my plans didn’t work out the moment I reached Varese and was dragged here by Galan and Fenrys.”

Aelin’s pulse got even faster. Seriously? Was that really the best he could come up with? “Why would I trust Maeve’s killing dog?”

It was easy to spot Rowan’s nostrils flaring and the way he clenched his jaw. “I like to think I’d spend my time with something more challenging than murdering an attention-seeker little brat.”

“Then what are you here for? Watch me? You know, you must be very important to Her Immortal Majesty if she put you on nurse duty.”

He snarled, “I was not. Sent. By. Maeve.”

Aelin got up from her chair, her eyes wide. “I don’t believe you.”

Rowan rose from his couch too and scoffed at her, “Are you always this paranoid, Princess?”

“So, you come to Terrasen while your aunt has an scheduled visit to Adarlan and expect me to believe you have no hidden agenda?”

Rowan took a deep breath and said in a carefully controlled tone, “I command armies. Strictly. Do you see any troops here? Because she wouldn’t send me as a spy.”

Aelin squinted her eyes at him, trying to recall every detail in their exchange earlier. “Then what is the disaster you have to prevent?”

“Have you met Fenrys?”

Her eyes went wide. “Are you kidding me? He has charmed half the Court already!”

Rowan pinched his nose. “Of course he did.”

Aelin drew herself up to full height and narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t trust you, Whitethorn. And I don’t give a fuck about your relationship with Maeve. As long as you lead her armies and benefit from her government, I’ll be monitoring you.”

She didn’t know who stepped inside the personal space of the other, but they were close. Dangerously so. Their short breaths were mingling as they studied each other’s enraged faces. Aelin took a step back and started to leave, but not without hissing, “Don’t you dare think this conversation is over.” Too bad she couldn’t slam his door.

TAG LIST

@elentiyawhitethorn

@rowanaelinn

@leiawritesstories

[mariaofdoranelle]

Royal Rebels — Chapter 1: The Drunken Decision

Masterlist

I told myself I’d keep posting on a weekly basis, but tomorrow is a holiday where I live, so it’s kind of the weekend again, right? Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: mentions of death and brief mentions of torture.

Word count: 4,3k

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Doranelle was grieving today, but that didn’t stop Queen Maeve from being absorbed on the latest royal gossip Lady Remelle had heard of. Honestly, Rowan had no idea how was he managing to be there as he tried to even his breathing and get a hold on the dangerous thoughts he was having. But the more he tried to restrain himself, the more his pulse quickened and his head hurt from gritting his teeth so much.

His cousin Sellene kept glancing at him with a weird look on her face from across the table, and that was when Rowan knew he couldn’t be there anymore if he didn’t want to do something he’d regret. He abruptly stood in the middle of dinner and excused himself but, as expected, he wasn’t being let off the hook that easily. How dare he leave dinner early when his friend had been executed the day before. Or at least that was his thought as he heard Lady Remelle follow him outside of the castle and quickened his footsteps.

“Ro! Why are you leaving so early?” She asked in a lowered voice while stroked his arm. His bitten nails were close to slicing his skin when he took a deep breath for the millionth time that night.

“Remelle. Leave me alone.”

“Are you still upset over Vaughan?” It had been less than 24 hours ago, but there was no need to remind her of that. Lacking a response, she tilted her head as her eyebrows drew together. He didn’t want to make eye contact and see whatever emotion she was trying to convey him. “He committed treason, Ro. You know Maeve had to do—”

“He was trying to help his people!” And there goes his self-restraint.

“By stealing from the castle to support a bunch of half-breeds! You know how this people are, if you make it too easy for them, they’ll just stop working.” Was she for real?

“The people are starving.”

“Because they don’t work hard enough. Do you have any idea how many seamstresses I’ve had the past decade? They’re a bunch of lazy half-breeds who refuse to do even mild labor.”

“I can’t see any other reason why someone wouldn’t want to work for you.” He didn’t even expect her to get his sarcasm.

“Exactly! You see, I know he was a kind Fae. But you can’t let them have it too easy.”

“So she killed someone who vowed his life to her because he was helping her people too much?” Rowan hoped Remelle, just this once, could take in the rage in his voice. But he wouldn’t do anything with the rush of adrenaline filling his veins. Not here, not now. He’d love to tell himself Remelle was just dumb, but he knew she wasn’t. She was a wealthy Fae who only cared about herself. Queen Maeve loved to surround herself with those.

“When you put it this way, it makes even more sense. He vowed his life to be loyal to her. If he’s not loyal, he loses his life. I don’t get why you’re upset.”

By the time she stopped talking, his breath was probably too loud to a Fae ear. He started cracking his knuckles as is thoughts were completely murderous. Remelle being set on fire. Remelle being attacked by Vaughan’s osprey form. Remelle being publicly killed instead of Vaughan. Not liking where his thoughts were headed, Rowan shifted into his hawk form and flew away.

Even though the goal was to calm himself down, flying has never been the same ever since Rowan visited Terrasen last year. It was a purely logical thing, the rivers and valleys sprawling toward those great northern mountains—it was paradise for a hawk. So much better than flying at Doranelle.

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Orynth’s castle for itself was a sight to see, with its enchanting towers made of opal stones, but for Rowan the real show-stopper was the place’s geography. He was looking for Fenrys, but wasn’t even minding his missing friend, delighted with just the wind and the smell of the trees. Rowan wondered what would be like to fly at the Oakwald Forest or in the Staghorn Mountains.

At a small table outside, he could see the Princess and a golden dog, both sitting alone with a chessboard. She was just watching him fly with crossed arms, but her eyes held a challenge impossible to ignore, so Rowan decided to look for Fenrys one last moment before joining her. Currently trying to prove someone, maybe herself, that Rowan was sent to murder her, a Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was the most irritating living thing he had ever met. In fact, Rowan wished he was really sent to kill her, just so he could be done with it and go home. They haven’t talked alone ever since the door incident and, for some reason, he was curious of her. Rowan could be very detached, but Aelin was capable of getting under his skin in a matter of seconds. For now, his only goal was to prove her wrong by not killing her... As hard as that was.

Sat at the table, he watched Aelin set the chessboard with a bored look on his face. That female could be as gorgeous as she was annoying, but he wouldn’t give her the pleasure of acknowledging that.

“Fenrys left you for today. He went to Ren Allsbrook’s room last night, and today Ren asked his servant to send every meal to his room, enough for two.” Honestly, Rowan was surprised it took Fenrys three days to do this.

“How in hell do you know this?

“Servant gossip. Philippa knows everything. Which color do you want?”

“The black pieces.” Let the princess start the game. Rowan didn’t need that to win. “Does she know about my door?”

“I’m afraid the whole castle knows, Whitethorn. I’m sorry about it.”

“You’re not.”

“I really am. But only because it was made from a rare type of tree. I’ll be the Little Folk’s queen too, I don’t want to upset them.” Rowan hid his hands on his lap, under the table. He wouldn’t give Aelin the satisfaction of seeing how clenched they were, how easily she got under his skin. Of course the Princess wasn’t sorry for barging into his room and accusing him of plotting her assassination. But he wouldn’t let her rile him up just because that was exactly what she wanted.

“Is the mutt yours?” He needed to change the subject and act civil. Immediately.

“Fleetfoot is a part of the family and she’ll be treated as such.”

“Are you serious right now?” Aelin just raised one eyebrow, making him sigh. “Is that... Her Royal Highness Fleetfoot Galathynius?” he said in a carefully controlled tone.

The mutt barked and flicked her tail before Aelin could answer. In the meanwhile, Rowan’s knight captured Aelin’s pawn. The sight of Rowan’s winning board relieved his anger a little.

“I’m surprised you haven’t burned the chessboard by now, Princess.”

“Oh, please. I won’t waste my finest board with a lowly prince desperate to win Queen Maeve’s favor,” she hissed with flared nostrils

And there it was. Rowan could feel his whole body tense and the increase on his pulse speed, but he wouldn’t give in. Even if every cell in his body was currently telling him to punch her in the face. He noticed the lack of guards where they were, it would be the perfect place and time to murder her if that was his goal. If Aelin was trying to play some sort of sick mind game with him now, he wouldn’t let her know she was winning.

“I think you’ll be shocked when you find out the world doesn’t revolve around you, Your Highness. One thing Terrasen beats Doranelle is the council, especially its ability to protect the people from spoiled monarchs and their temper tantrums.” Just for a dramatic effect, Rowan’s pawn captured one of Aelin’s.”

“What a refined way to insult me, Prince. I thought I was just an attention-seeker little brat.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile, her knuckles as white as the knight she had a death grip on.

“I think you’re much more layered than you’re giving yourself credit for.”

“And I think you’re much less brave than the legends give yourself credit for. Tell me, Whitethorn, would you be sitting there now if you didn’t know that I’ll send the whole Bane to bring me your head if you lay a single finger on me?” No. She’d be heading for the healer by now if he could have his way, and she knew that.

Through gritted teeth, Rowan snarled, “Can’t kill me yourself, Princess?”

However, she lifted those maddening blue eyes at him and raised her eyebrows. “I just killed your queen.”

“Is this a threat?” Rowan didn’t care about Maeve, but it added up to his annoyance. Also, it was the expected response from him.

Aelin gave him a triumphant smirk. ”You were so sidetracked by the lack of guards and little pawns I gave you to kill, you failed to see what was right in front of you. You need to do better if you want to play this game with me, Whitethorn.

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Rowan roamed over the city without thinking about destination or time, just feeling the wind caress his feathers until he spotted Fenrys on a street and navigated towards him. After shifting back to his Fae form, they stared at each other until Rowan broke the silence.

“Where are you going?”

Fenrys just shrugged. His reddened eyes helped to portray a haunted look Rowan rarely saw on his friend.

“Come on, we’re getting hammered,” Rowan mumbled.

When they got to the tavern and the first few rounds of beer came, it was easier for them to keep a conversation going. Fenrys leaned back and asked with a tight smile, “Do you remember when Maeve sent Vaughan on a journey to the Southern Continent, about 30 years ago, and he just kept flying until the situation solved itself?”

Rowan mused, “Yes, that costed him a lot, though.” He had no idea why Vaughan swore the oath if he was always trying to rebel against Maeve. Suddenly, his throat thickened. His limbs became heavier. He understood Vaughan more than he was willing to admit. Rowan had commanded Maeve’s armies himself for long enough to know how brutal and unfair the campaigns could be. The things she could do out of spite. Another deep breath. It was hard to get a grip on his emotions today, so he just pretended to pay attention to Fenrys’s blabbering until he calmed down. Rowan was just a non-essential prince doing the only thing he was fit to do. Stop working would only cause him more problems and make no change. Or that was the thing he was used to tell himself, at least.

When Rowan focused back on his friend, Fenrys was already eying him thoughtfully, “How are you?”

“Fine,” he said between clenched teeth.

Fenrys raised his eyebrows, “Really?”

One of the perks of being friends with Fenrys was that he could be so annoying it allowed Rowan to focus his irritation somewhere else. “Your point is? You’re fucking miserable.”

“I’m grieving. But I’m cheerful. Glass half full and shit.”

“Okay, then.”

Fenrys ordered more beer before turning back to him. “When was the last time you felt happy, Ro?”

Eleven months and two days ago, but Rowan just shrugged. “You?”

“When we went to Essar’s vineyard and I played with the baby chickens,” Fenrys gave him a faint smile, “They’re probably dead by now, anyway.”

That had been a few years ago, but Rowan didn’t feel like pointing it out, “And they probably became ugly adult chickens before dying.”

They both slumped on the chairs before Fenrys swallowed down the rest of his beer and continued, “They’ll always be cute baby chickens to me, though. And very much alive.”

A fleeting idea crossed Rowan’s mind, “You know who should die instead of them?”

That piked his friend’s interest, “Who?”

“Maeve,” Rowan only mouthed to make sure the other Fae at the tavern couldn’t hear him, but it was enough to make Fenrys still on his chair with wide eyes. And then blink a little. Finally, he relaxed on his chair and grinned like the devil.

“For Hellas’s sake, Whitethorn. I never thought you had it in you.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow, “Scared, boyo?”

“Hell, no. Let’s do this.”

After a lot less planning than they should have made, they settled on using Rowan’s rank to borrow a few weapons from the army base closest to the castle. The plan went smoothly until they bumped into Essar’s sister, another Commander, on their way out of the base. Both way too armed for a weekend night.

“Hey, Rowan. Fenrys. What are you two doing here in the middle of the night?”

Rowan snarled, “We’re on a mission.”

However, Fenrys cheerfully explained the situation “We’re going to kill Maeve,” right before he crossed his arms and almost fell on his ass while trying to lean on the wall. Rowan stared blankly at his awfully relaxed friend, his disbelief stopping him from noticing the huge grin the female wore.

“Good,” she snickered after a few moments. Until she paled completely. “Fuck, are you going to do it now?”

Fenrys lifted his chin and grinned broadly. “Yes, ma’am!”

She turned to Rowan. “You know this is a suicide mission, right?”

His voice was completely flat as he retorted, “We’re going to be fine,” and dragged Fenrys out of the army base.

As they walked their way to the castle, Fenrys’s steps seemed to be more steady as the realisation of what they were about to do seemed to sober him up a little. Too little for what they were going to do, but Rowan himself was drunk enough to pretend not to notice this.

Fenrys’s laughter was booming on the streets as he managed to say, “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

Honestly, Rowan hadn’t felt this determined in a long time. “We’re warriors. Serious ones. We defend our kingdom. We’re doing our jobs.”

Fenrys eyed him thoughtfully as me mused, “You’re serious.”

“I am.”

For a moment, Rowan actually thought his friend was being serious until Fenrys beamed at him.

“You should drink more. You’re no fun sober.”

A deep sigh. “This isn’t supposed to be fun. We’re on a quest to free Doranelle.”

“What are we supposed to do after Maeve’s dead? Are we taking over the country?”

Rowan hadn’t thought much about it. For him, it was already implied Sellene was taking the throne, as she was next in the line of succession. But he still wanted to hear his friend’s thoughts. “Do you want to be a king, Fenrys?”

“Fuck, no. I would swear the blood-oath to you, though.”

“Nah. I don’t want to be king.” His sentence was as true as it could get. As much as he had all the royal education along with his cousins, Rowan knew he was only good for one thing. Plan, attack, kill. Over and over for centuries until he settled into a routine. His friends and family would say he’s detached, but there was one thing he did they couldn’t complain. Plan, attack, kill. He was definitely not king material.

“So we’re back to square one. What are we doing after she dies?”

“We give the throne to Sellene.” He didn’t know how she would deal with this, though. She has always been the most pressured in the family because of her position. “We can handle this later. Call it Step 2.”

“Cool. We just have to get through Step 1 before I throw up.”

Was he for real? “You drink too much to be such a lightweight.”

“I’m not a fucking—“

“Shut up, we’re here,” Rowan interrupted with a hushed voice. Maeve kept her castle surrounded with so much Fae disguised in their animal forms it looked like a fucking farm in the middle of the woods. They were being heavily watched now.

Rowan clutched his poorly embroidered Spidersilk handkerchief and for a moment he didn’t repress any thoughts about who gave it to him. There was no turning back now, either he or Maeve were going to die, and she was the only person he knew would love both outcomes. When he pictured her receiving the news of whatever happened tonight, the mirth on her turquoise and gold eyes was the only thing that flashed into his mind before he let it go and entered Doranelle’s castle.

At first, they managed to walk through all the common areas without being suspicious. But when they approached Maeve’s personal wing, one of her watchdogs creeped out of the shadows.

Onyx eyes were narrowed at him when Lorcan Salvaterre snarled, “Whitethorn. What are you doing here? Spill.”

Rowan tilted his head and crossed his arms. “Are you still licking Maeve’s boots, Lorcan? How long will it take before she deems you enough to be a blood-sworn?”

“Fuck. Off. Now tell me what you’re doing here. Now.”

“We,” Fenrys swayed a little on his feet and pointed at himself and Rowan before continuing, “Have a mission. And we need to talk to Maeve. About it. Our mission.”

Lorcan seemed terribly amused at Fenrys. “Is that so? Can you tell me more about it?”

Fenrys inched closer to the enemy and sent him a conspiring smile as he added, “But it’s secret. Can you keep a secret?”

“Sure,” Lorcan said behind a fake smile. Rowan knew it was fake because Lorcan Salvaterre never genuinely smiled, but his terrible acting skills seemed to be enough for Fenrys.

“We’re here—“

He didn’t finish the sentence because Rowan put an air shield around Fenrys to stop anyone else from listening to his idiot friend. What the fuck was he thinking? Fenrys kept gesturing at Rowan any nonsense he could muster as Lorcan crossed his arms and looked expectantly at them with squished eyebrows. When Rowan closed his eyes and pinched his nose to take a deep breath and calm himself down, Fenrys took it as a cue to teleport him to a shieldless part of the hall and cheer, “We’re here to kill Maeve!”

And that’s when everything went black.

Rowan was sat when he woke up, and his whole body was covered in iron shackles and chains. Fenrys looked pretty much the same. Queen Maeve was sat on her throne with one of her creepy owls, and he could sense, more than see, the guards and blood-sworn lurking by.

Maeve looked at them and sighed. Heavily. “I think we all know that was the dumbest assassination attempt I’ve ever seen,” she pinched her nose, “And I’m the world’s oldest Fae.”

He didn’t feel like mentioning it now, but this was one of those rare moments Rowan actually agreed with his queen. As if sensing his thoughts, Maeve leaned back and continued.

“I always knew Fenrys would eventually do something that stupid in his life, but I never expected this coming from my best Commander, Rowan. Being thousands of years old is terribly boring. I thought defeating you could be a little more exciting.” After hundreds of years of working for Maeve, this was the closest he got to a compliment, and it was actually disturbing to him. If Maeve thought highly of him, it was probably because he had been doing something wrong. His stomach started quivering as he began to feel unclean. He didn’t show any sign of his unease, so she took their silence as a cue to continue.

“You should consider yourselves lucky for Vaughan’s death. The only reason you’re getting out alive is because I can’t kill two nobles and a prince on the same weekend.” He kept still, refusing to give Maeve the satisfaction of seeing him recoil. Looking at his right, Fenrys looked murderous, his jaw so clenched it could break stone. Maeve analysed him and smiled broadly. “I’m not killing you, but you’re officially exiled. Permanently. I don’t need to tell your bank accounts, every property you own and what’s inside it belongs to Doranelle now, right?” She smiled. “Good.” Well, Rowan didn’t give a shit about his property or bank accounts, but he found it hard to believe any king or queen would like to have their armies trained by someone who was exiled for committing treason.

For someone as private as Maeve was, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut tonight. Thankfully, she eventually gestured requesting one of her blood-sworn and came to a halt. “I think you’ve heard enough talk about treason on the last 24 hours, and Cairn has been terribly bored lately, you know? I should finish our meeting and go.” Was it supposed to scare him? He just wanted to get it over with and go.

Maeve started giving instructions directly to her blood-sworn, but loud enough for them to hear. “You’ll keep them entertained, consider it the closure of their spree. Whips and daggers only, but I want both healed enough to walk. Dump them at the border by dawn.” He bastard started grinning wickedly at them as Maeve walked out and sing-sang, “Have fun!”

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It was a week later, and both Rowan and Fenrys were healed enough to wander on the lands between Doranelle and Wendlyn.

Rowan crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at his friend. “Are you sure the Ashryvers will welcome us in Varese?”

Even though they were friends with Prince Galan, Wendlyn and Doranelle politically kept a good relationship. It wouldn’t be a good move to take the two of them now.

“Don’t worry, Birdie! Live a little!” That was Fenrys’s umpteenth try to cheer him up since the exile. At least he got it right. Rowan wasn’t pissed about the exile in itself, but he was very worried about where they were going to live.

“If you call me Birdie one more time, you will be the one who won’t live a little.”

Fenrys barked a laugh. “We’ll be fine, Galan will love the surprise.”

His eyebrows immediately creased. Had he misheard his friend? “What do you mean?”

Fenrys rubbed the back of his neck as he stared ahead for a while. “They love us! We’re like part of the family.”

Rowan stopped dead on his tracks. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you telling me you didn’t even tell them we were visiting?”

An impatient huff, then he replied, “Why spoil the surprise? We’ve never needed it before.”

Rowan’s eyebrows shot to the sky. “Fenrys. That was before we tried to kill their political ally.”

Fenrys’s shoulders seemed to loosen up a little as he gave a heavy sigh and groaned, “What’s your plan, then? If they don’t take us, we’re fucked.”

Very true. Maeve wasn’t a very friendly queen, he had befriended very few people on his journeys abroad. Lord Suria, maybe? They had bonded a little over war tactics and weaponry on his brief trip to Terrasen. Being Maeve’s enemy now, maybe he could get a nice enough military position without causing a turmoil in the royal family, if he was lucky. He could keep it in mind as a last resort.

“We’re close to Mistward. Emrys and Malakai would welcome us. We go there, spend the night, send a letter to Galan and wait until we have a response.”

Fenrys rested both hands on his hips and tilted his head at him. “You’re not half as bad as a strategist, Prince. This month’s shenanigan could’ve fooled me”

Rowan’s lips twitched a little and they resumed their journey. They were closer to Mistward than he calculated, arriving there by the middle of the afternoon. It had been years since he last visited Emrys and Malakai, but the fortress’s sentries hadn’t stopped him. In fact, to be welcomed there after becoming an official traitor to his country was… Interesting. Even though Mistward wasn’t Maeve’s territory, it was still full of people who intended, at least initially, to live in Doranelle. He made a mental note to investigate the fortress’s relationship with Maeve later.

Rowan didn’t even care to enter through the front door, Fenrys was hot on his heels when he entered the kitchen first, already knowing Emrys would be there. Everything was just as he remembered, except that Emrys was alone. The preparations for dinner would probably start soon. When they crossed the threshold, the old male was already on his way to greet them.

“Prince Rowan! Fenrys! What are you doing here? It’s good to see you, even if it takes an exile for you to visit me.” Emrys’s comment didn’t sound snarky, but it still was something uncomfortable to hear. It had been at least a decade before he last visited Mistward, with no excuse whatsoever for that.

It was a few minutes of conversation and exchanging news mainly between Emrys and Fenrys, but Rowan managed to make a comment every now and them. However, Rowan completely zoned out of the chat when he scented a familiar smell. A hallucination was the only explanation possible, but it got stronger each time until he couldn’t ignore it anymore. Jasmine.

Emrys’s face perked up. Rowan’s turned slack. Fenrys started to eye him curiously. “Oh! There’s someone I want you to meet.”

The closer she got, the more of her scent he could pick up. Like lemon verbena.

“She’s staying here for a few months. I’m close to her mother, so she’s like a niece to me.”

Rowan started to smell the embers as her gaze on him seemed to ignite the room.

“This is Celaena.”

At his side, Fenrys barked a laugh at Rowan’s expense. The traitor.

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[mariaofdoranelle]

Royal Rebels - Masterlist

[on hiatus]

Mistward but Aelin and Rowan wants to kill Maeve instead of impressing her.

Or

When Queen Maeve starts taking merciless measures to save Doranelle from a crisis, two old enemies, frenemies with benefits, lovers, acquaintances, Princess Aelin Galathynius and Prince Rowan Whitethorn, must reunite to reach one goal: kill Maeve without starting a war. However, as they get closer to the Fae Queen, Aelin and Rowan might need to overcome old issues and wounds in order to work together efficiently, considering how quickly they could become the prey.

Enemies to frenemies with benefits to estranged to reluctant allies to lovers

Warnings: violence (but nothing gruesome) and NSFW

Canon divergences: Adarlan never tried to take over Erilea. Rowan isn’t a widower, and he works as a Commander, no blood-oaths.

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Read it on AO3

Prologue

Chapter 1: The Drunken Decision

Chapter 2: The Peace Attempt

Chapter 3: The Dagger

Chapter 4: The Glee Tea

Bonus chapter for Rowaelin Month: The Circus

[mariaofdoranelle]

Royal Rebels — Chapter 2: The Peace Attempt

Masterlist

I tried to make this the least info-dumpy I could, but we really need to know what brought Aelin to Mistward lol anyway I hope you like it!!

Warnings: angst, language, very low violence

Word count: 4,1k

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Stop burning your hair

Aelin dropped the dishes she was already aggressively scrubbing and hissed, “Stop infiltrating my mind.” She had a feeling their true identity would be known soon, considering the amount of times Dorian worked on his magic whenever he couldn’t smell anyone close.

“I need to practice Maeve’s powers with someone. Preferably before your hair fall off.”

Aelin groaned. “I’m just straightening it.” She couldn’t wait to go home, where her hair didn’t get frizzy because of the humidity. Where she had a protein-based diet that helped her training, even though Emrys was a miracle worker with the few resources he had. God, it had been a bit more than a month since Aelin left the castle, but she missed Phillipa’s dessert trays terribly. Her servant would be scandalized if she saw the way Aelin was keeping her clothes now.

I won’t get mad if you decide to go back, you know.

Aelin jumped on her spot and swore while clutching her chest. Dorian seemed firm, but she had known those shuffling feet for years. “If you’re using mind tricks to make me quit the mission, it’s working. This is getting beyond creepy, you’re teaching me how to block this thing first thing tomorrow.” Aelin looked around the kitchen and tried to keep her voice light when she said, “Besides, this isn’t even how it works. My mom told me it’s more like a story she tells in your head.” Dorian was frowning at a pile of cups and cleared his throat. Aelin had avoided this topic for hours, now the only thing she could do was brace herself for what was coming.

“Maybe your friends from Doranelle could give us some information on her.”

Oh, now he decided to use his voice? She could feel Dorian’s gaze on her, but decided to focus back on scrubbing the dishes. It was impossible not to hear the gossip about Rowan’s exile, but she didn’t know how much of that was true. Was he just faking this situation, like he did in Terrasen? Was he never lying about the motives that led him there? That seemed unlikely. Aelin would be lying if she said the idea of bumping into Rowan again hadn’t crossed her mind as she planned her journey along with Dorian, keeping last spring out of her mind was harder every inch she neared Doranelle.

Aelin’s thoughts were racing, but they still weren’t going anywhere. When Emrys introduced her to Rowan and Fenrys earlier that day, she just greeted the two and rushed to the vegetables. Fast and indifferent. But she was so shocked she did a terrible job cutting them, so Dorian used his phantom hands to cover for her. She ground her teeth as her whole body tensed. Trying to figure Rowan out had been too distracting last year, she couldn’t afford to go there again considering the urgency of the mission she had now.

“They’re not my friends,” she eventually acknowledged.

“You wound me, Celaena.”

Both Aelin and Dorian jerked to the source of that interruption. Fenrys had just teleported to the kitchen, since the doors were too creaky for someone to sneak up on them like he did. Fenrys Moonbeam, in all his blonde, tan, smirking glory. Just like Aelin and half of her castle remembered. But probably in different ways.

Their intruder leaned on a wooden table. He wore his trademark smirk, but there was something off about it. “I smelled something burning across the hall and figured you’d be here.”

Dorian just looked at Aelin and he didn’t need to infiltrate her mind again for her to know his thoughts. I told you so. Then he looked around the room and said, “I’m going to get my beans.”

Seeing Fenrys’s confused face when Dorian left, Aelin added, “Dorian’s addicted to anascaul beans. He brought a pack and we cook it at night.”

“I remember them. They only grow in harsh winters, right?”

“Yeah.”

Fenrys was running his thumb through a smashed corner of the table. God, that was awkward. Aelin was feeling a pang on guilt about what she said before. Despite being wary of him when they first met, she really liked Fenrys. She shouldn’t let him get caught in the crossfire between Rowan and her. Aelin took a seat and settled another beside her for Fenrys.

“How’s life as an exile?”

That owned her a small smile. “Better than I imagined. Rowan and I have plans to grovel to Galan so he can give us a job.” He sat beside her and sighed. “I don’t give a fuck about not living in Doranelle anymore. Being poor really sucks, though.”

Aelin chuckled a little, but then asked, “Do you regret doing it?”

Fenrys frowned and bit the inside of his cheek. “No. In fact, I wish I had stood up against Maeve sooner. If I could go back in time, the only thing I would change is the way I did it.”

“That was so dumb,” Aelin giggled, and then the two of them were chuckling at Fenrys’s disaster of a murder attempt.

“I thought you were loyal to her.” As much as she wanted, Aelin couldn’t bring herself to ask what she was actually aching to know. What happened in the past year? What made Rowan change his mind? As if sensing her thoughts, Fenrys was the most solemn Aelin had ever seen him when he answered her.

“I’ve always been loyal to Rowan, not Maeve.”

Aelin was scrambling her mind for an answer when Dorian came back and filled a pot with his beans. Fenrys’s eyebrows went to his hairline.

“What the hell are you doing, pretty boy?”

“Cooking my beans,” Dorian said with a shrug.

“You need to sort and rinse them first.” Fenrys grabbed the beans and spread them on a kitchen towel. “You know, I’m a farm-bred warrior. If you two need anything, just tell me.”

Aelin raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you happen to know how to make shoes? I asked Emrys where could I find a pair, but he just gave me two blocks of wood and some leather hides.”

Fenrys’s cackle boomed through the kitchen as Dorian bit his lip trying not to laugh at his friend as well. In fact, Dorian better not laugh at her. When she came to him, he had absolutely no idea what to do with the tools too.

“When I say I was raised on a farm, I actually mean a massive manor in the southeast.” Fenrys grimaced at them. “Anyway, you can buy shoes in the city, but it’s a day trip. And I don’t mean just peasantry life, you can count me in for whatever thing you’re doing, it’s not like I have a job to keep me busy. I’m sure Rowan feels the same.”

Aelin paled as her mind started racing. Fenrys gave her two kicks in the gut as he sorted beans like it was nothing. One for figuring out her intentions, another for suggesting she would ask for Rowan’s help.

Fenrys cocked his head with an amused smile. “Should I believe you came here just to enjoy the weather?”

“That was the same thing I was asking myself in Terrasen.” Aelin refused to back down.

Dorian interjected. “Please. Don’t. I’ve read about this discussion too many times in Aelin’s letters already.”

Fenrys leaned back on his chair. “Don’t worry, pretty boy. If I remember correctly, Aelin and Rowan had a truce.” Fenrys smirked at Aelin while answering Dorian.

“A peace treaty,” she said through gritted teeth, “That was very brief and ineffective.”

“Maybe we should make another peace treaty tomorrow morning.”

Every instinct Aelin had was telling her to back out, but she couldn’t. That was Dorian’s mission, not hers. When Aelin looked at her friend, he was looking back at her, uncertainty filling his eyes and she knew why. As much as Dorian didn’t want to do anything that made her uncomfortable, they were both eager to go home. Talking to people who last week were close to Maeve would be beneficial.

“I’ll be at the upstairs study tomorrow morning after breakfast. If you and Whitethorn decide to go or not, I don’t care.”

Fenrys opened his mouth, but then glanced at the table and turned back to Dorian. ”You need to discard the broken beans as well.”

Dorian wore a pinched expression, but still let Fenrys teach him how to treat his beans. Good. Aelin’s mind was still going in circles, she had less than one night to recollect herself and plan their next meeting. There would be time to hang out with her friends later.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Entering her arms and armor closet, the first thing she noticed was Rowan sat on a cushioned chair, unbothered by being requested to a mysterious meeting with Aelin of the Wildfire at a room filled with weapons. Aelin herself knew grown men who would be pissing their pants by now.

“Thank you for your assistance, Philippa.” Aelin had every intention to keep this conversation as private as possible. That was why, even though she had picked her most trusted servant to escort Rowan to one of the most secluded areas of the castle, Philippa had to be dismissed for this conversation.

Having no idea how this would go, so she decided to eat first.

“Won’t you at least drink the tea, Whitethorn?”

“Is it poisoned?”

Aelin gazed at him, sending a too-sweet smile. “Would you drink it if it was?”

Rowan glowered at her, but poured himself some cardamom tea.

“Are you too good for the food also?”

“I don’t like sweets.”

Aelin wrinkled her nose. “Disgusting. I should’ve seen this coming from you.”

Rowan took a deep breath. “Why am I here?”

“We’re here for a peace treaty,” she prompted while straightening her posture and picking a sword that was near her.”

He raised his eyebrows. “In here?” Looking around, he said, “Your father failed to show me this room of the Royal Armories. It’s quite impressive.”

She hoped Rowan couldn’t see how happy his comment made her. Aelin’s closet was her baby. A smile began to form on her face, but then she gripped the sword tighter, as if it would help her control her emotions. “Do you want peace or not?”

“You know, provoking me until I try to kill you is a terrible tactic. After five days of this, I’m still not sure if you want to have a reason to officially execute me, or just banish me from Terrasen.”

Aelin sighed. “Honestly, I’d be happy with either.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “That’s... Not surprising at all. Go on with the truce.”

“Treaty.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

Rowan bit his lip. “Forgive me, Milady. What does this treaty entail?”

Aelin had to glance away to her sword. This wasn’t about Rowan, she just had poor reactions to being called milady. Clearing her throat, she explained, “I’ll give my best to stay out of your way, but for every day I leave you alone, you must train at least two hours with General Ashryver and The Bane. I don’t need to mention that if you try to kill me, the peace treaty is over, right?”

Rowan pursed his lips and leaned back on his seat, crossing his arms. “Why are you doing this?”

“You and I aren’t the only ones being affected by this feud.” Which meant her family and the council were pissed ever since she burned his door.

“So you’re telling me that you’ll stop whether I agree with this or not, the only difference is that I’ll have to work now.”

“Wrong. The Treaty is the only guarantee that I’ll leave you alone.” Actually, he was right. Somehow, the people at the castle started to like Fenrys and his dull bastard friend, making her look like the paranoid one. She’d think of another tactic soon.

He raised one eyebrow at her. She narrowed her eyes at him. If this was a battle of wills, she wasn’t going to give up soon.

Rowan sighed. “What makes you think your cousin will agree to train with me?”

Aelin had to hide a snort. If only he knew. Leaning back, she answered, “Let’s say he’s an admirer of your legacy as a warrior. All of the glaring you receive from him is out of loyalty. If you agree to be at peace with me, you’re at peace with him too.”

Rowan pressed and wet his lips as he considered her offer, which made her mirror his movement and immediately focus back on the sword on her lap. Just to give him some visual privacy until he surrendered.

“Okay, then. I agree with your terms.”

They both got up from their seats. Aelin offered a handshake, but immediately regretted it as his touch sent a thrill through her body. A little breathless, she established, “The Whitethorn-Galathynius Treaty starts now.” She tried to burn his hand a little, but he used his ice magic to block her attack while sending her a knowing look and swallowing. The bastard.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

On the next day, Aelin woke up knowing what she had to do. Eat while cooking by snatching little bits of the food here and there, and then be the first to get at the meeting. Except that, when she got to the hall, it was easy to scent a trail of pine and snow leading to the study.

When she opened the door, Rowan was sat on one of the four wooden chairs available, behind a equally wooden desk. He didn’t portray any emotion, and neither did she. In that moment, Aelin was nothing but a blank mind and a pounding heartbeat.

“I wasn’t expecting to meet you again, Celaena.”

“Didn’t you eat?” Aelin moved one chair, sitting right in front of him with crossed arms.

“I drank water.”

She rolled her eyes. By her lack of response, he demanded, “What are you doing here?” Why did he fucking care? Rowan didn’t even have a country to protect or call his anymore.

“I went to visit Galan in Varese and my friend dragged me here.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Isn’t that your standard answer, Whitethorn?” He didn’t let out a single sign of his emotions, but she knew his hands would be likely pressed into fists, hidden behind the table. He seemed to be better composed today. Rowan’s reputation made him sound pretty apathetic, but Aelin was quick to disagree on that. From the first day, it hadn’t been difficult to rile rim up.

“Is this why you called this meeting?”

Aelin took a deep breath and looked right into the green eyes that seemed to swallow her whole. “Why should I trust an old nemesis who committed treason?”

Rowan blinked, but maintained eye contact. “You shouldn’t. At least I wouldn’t.” He sounded so genuine it threw her off-balance. Again. So she blurted the first thing that crossed her mind.

“If I knew your murder attempts were so poorly executed, I wouldn’t have put up that much of a fight about your visit.” Aelin meant that as an insult, but it was easy to see Rowan’s poor reaction. At first his eyes sparkled, followed by a twitch on his facial muscles that for a millisecond tugged on the left end of his lips. If anyone had taken their eyes off him for a blink, they would miss it. But Aelin didn’t. After schooling his face into neutrality, Rowan narrowed his eyes at her. On that exact moment, both Fenrys and Dorian entered the study.

The blonde male gave them a wide grin and turned to Dorian, saying, “I told you Rowan would be here already! I know the drill sergeant like the back of my hand.” Said drill sergeant just gave an exasperated sigh.

“So, where was she in the story?” Apparently, Dorian meant business today.

Rowan tilted his head at him. “The Princess refuses to tell me anything.”

“Why would I explain to you what I’m doing here if you never deigned to tell me what the fuck you were doing in Terrasen?”

“Are we really having this discussion again?”

“Fuck you!”

Rowan’s eyes crinkle as he seemed to say with his gaze, You’d love that, wouldn’t you?

Aelin’s face flushed with embarrassment, anger, something else she wouldn’t dare think about. “Now that I think about it, I can actually kill you, you know? Maeve doesn’t give a fuck about you. In fact, now there isn’t a soul that cares about you enough to start a war,” she snapped.

“Go on, then.” Rowan’s shoulders were completely strained, and she could see the vessel on the right side on his neck that gave a slight appearance when he was angry. He explained through clenched teeth, “Don’t you want to kill me? Kill me. Now.”

Yes. She wanted to kill him. Badly. Aelin had waited an entire year for this, didn’t she? She frowned at him and rose from her chair, clutching the dagger she had hidden underneath her clothes. Taking hesitant steps towards him, she bit the inside of her cheek. He was looking at her without moving a single muscle to fight. After so long, would she kill in a study in the middle of nowhere? They should probably schedule a duel or—

Dorian decided it was a good idea to interrupt her murder and cleared his throat. “Maybe I should begin the meeting?”

Fuck, she was the worst friend ever. Dorian actually wanted something from Rowan, and she nearly killed him. One second more and he would be dead.

Then, Dorian started fill the boys in, telling them in detail about how Maeve sent his father a letter notifying her first visit in six hundred years to discuss a partnership between Doranelle and Adarlan. And how his idiot father thought it was an amazing idea. A few months later, she was very well received. The Glass Castle’s hospitality was so great she felt free to play with the King of Adarlan’s mind until she enslaved him with a blood-oath. It didn’t even take five minutes of her time. When she turned to Dorian to do the same, he shifted into a cockroach and ran for his life. Maeve tried to catch him, and even tried to murder him by stomping on his roach form, but then Dorian managed to run and reach Orynth to seek help. And there they were.

“Fuck.”

That was Fenrys’s only response as he stared into the void with a very pale face. When he clutched his stomach, Rowan got up and put his two hands on his friend’s shoulder like it was an involuntary response.

“Fenrys has an emotional stomach. I’m healing him so he won’t throw up,” he explained after receiving equally puzzled looks from Aelin and Dorian.

“Yep. That’s the only reason I keep him around.” Rowan looked at the ceiling and sighed, but it was clear he was trying to stop his cheeks from twitching.

Dorian tilted his head at Fenrys. “You’re in the army.” He wasn’t anymore, but Aelin didn’t feel like pointing it out.

“Yeah, that never helps.” Aelin hadn’t seen him like this in Terrasen, but maybe it was because things were pretty smooth over there for him. For a moment, she wondered how it must have been for him doing Hellas knows what on Maeve’s behalf.

Rowan cleared his throat. Still with his hands on Fenrys’s shoulders, he made eye contact with Dorian and asked, “How are you?”

“Determined. I didn’t do enough to protect my country. That won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Rowan looked at both Aelin and Dorian now. “What are you going to do?”

She sighed. “The council gave us six months to solve this however we like, but their main condition is that we can’t start a war.” Rowan raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. Yes, she knew it was an impossible task. She also knew she could totally do this. Peacefully. Because she was a peaceful future leader. Which made her straighten her posture and continue, “That’s why we’ll kill her very discreetly.” Doranelle couldn’t start a war against Terrasen based on a suspicion, right?

“The same way I tried to kill Maeve very discreetly?”

Aelin squinted her eyes at the buzz-kill. So typical of Rowan. She could enter the castle, kill the bitch, make it look like a robbery or maybe a very sudden deadly disease, and leave. No one would question it, the female was old as dust. Literally four thousand years old. The oldest Fae alive. Could a tree outlive her? Aelin had no idea.

Fenrys tilted his head. “So discreetly you didn’t bring Aedion? I’m surprised he didn’t hide on the ship so he could come with you.” Aelin bit her lip. Yeah. About that.

Aelin could sense the laughter Dorian was repressing, but he swallowed it and said, “Of course he came.” But then his body started trembling, and he could barely manage to complete, “With the whole Bane!” Aelin’s cheeks immediately flushed. She would kill Dorian. In his sleep. And she’d tell people it was Maeve so she could kill her to allegedly avenge the death of her best friend.

Fenrys was cackling, but managed to joke at her, “You want to discreetly kill Maeve with an entire army behind you?”

Aelin gaped, incredulous. He was not as funny as he thought he was. “Excuse you. They’re in Varese! Until I send for them or Aedion grows too impatient.” But then she smiled at their friends’s amusement. Her overbearing parents made The Bane cross the ocean because they were too worried about leaving her alone with Dorian. It was so ridiculous she started laughing with them too. Except for Rowan, of course, only stared at them, paying close attention to the conversation.

After they recomposed themselves, Dorian carried on, “And there’s the part where Aelin and I disagree. She wants to study Maeve’s defenses and strike, but I’d rather pull some strings to degenerate her reputation as a queen first, so no one will come after us if things go bad.”

Fenrys’s laughter got bitter. “Her reputation as a queen is already fucked. The peasants pay five different taxes, the city’s too violent because everyone’s starving, the nobles want to help Maeve before everything goes to shit but she won’t let them. Do you want me to keep going?” Seeing his friend was better already, Rowan took a step back and and blinked at Aelin and Dorian a few times.

“So you two came to a foreign land you’ve never visited with a massive army you don’t know what to do with and thought it would be a good idea to plan along the way?” After his angry remark, the room was deadly silent.

“I have many plans,” Aelin barked after a few moments.

“You have many ideas and absolutely no consistent plan.”

Aelin glared at him. “Do you want to tell me a few tips on how to kill the most heavily guarded monarch in the world, then? Because that worked out so well for you!” Aelin hadn’t noticed she was screaming on her feet until the room fell silent and she was being stared at by everyone. Great. She took a few steps back, leaned on the wall with crossed arms and glared at Rowan.

He only took a deep breath. “I’m sending for Sellene.” His cousin? That works side by side with Maeve? What the fuck?

“You’re kidding me.”

“I won’t act behind her back again.”

Aelin gaped. He didn’t seem to be kidding. “Did I invite you to be my killing buddy?”

Before anyone could answer her, a demi-Fae with unusually nice clothing and very deep onyx eyes entered the room, making Aelin hiss, “This room is already being used.” It was Rowan’s fault, he air shielded every room he was in, and then no one could know it was being occupied by the noise. She could sense Rowan’s shield on her skin, and in the next second the demi-Fae slammed her face-first on the wall, pinning all of her limbs. At first, Aelin froze. Her heart was pounding as she thought of what to do. No one knew her real identity, and Mistward rarely received visitors.

Without thinking much further, she barked at demi-Fae stranger, “That’s fucking rude, I just moved in here!”

Rowan was already up from his chair when he demanded, “What the fuck do you want, Lorcan?”

So considerate of him to start negotiations when Aelin’s face was already flat against the wall.

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[adudelol-writing]

day three: set up for failure

Ryan checked his web fluid, making sure both sets were full. He nodded to himself, shaking his hands and activating the sticking ability, not sticky powers, and launched himself up onto the wall before climbing up it. 

Inferno sent him a note earlier that day, stuck to his 12th story apartment window, saying there was a big bust involving Lust, Wraith, and Sloth. Ryan got to the top of this building, looking towards the old electrical grid. He got there a few hours before the heist was supposed to happen. He hoped Inferno would have shown up, but the note did say that she might be busy in a different hit with the other Sins.

He sighs, sticking to just watching the old electrical grid by himself. 

So, we're just going to wait here until midnight?

Well, not fully alone. Ronwe, the symbiote-like creature bonded with him was here as well. Ryan takes a deep breath, laying flat against the roof. "I mean, yeah. I want to make sure all of them are there when we go in." Ryan stretches his shoulder blades, cracking his upper back. "And, y'know, maybe Inferno will show up. She was the one who told me about this."

You think she's talking to Doctor Strange?

"I don't think so? Last I knew they were taking separate paths at the moment — came to a stalemate type situation with this." 

A few hours passed, and honestly, Ryan was bored. Stake outs are boring; at least Ryan had Ronwe to talk to. "Alright! It's a quarter past midnight, our time to strike. Cover my 6?" 

Always.

Ryan swung down into the building. Unlike what seems like every other spider-person who fell into New York City, he doesn't have any superpowers to rely on — just his own trinkets, fighting skills, and if all else fails — a massive experimenting-on-aliens gone-wrong friend. 

Heart beats on the right. Sounds like only two.

Two? Ryan thought there were supposed to be three. He shook his head, creeping onto the ceiling and sneaking into the vents. He followed the duct system down the right hallway, and crawled into the room. He silently takes off the ventilation cover, crawling onto the ceiling. The two people in the room weren't talking — Ryan couldn't even see them. He moves to the other side of the room, to the other side of the pillar before gasping. 

There were… there were bodies. Hostages, who were shot in the back of the head. Lust, Wraith, and Sloth were tied to the central pillar, two of them knocking out and… Sloth, he had a large bullet wound through his skull. 

What the fuck happened???

Ryan dropped down onto the floor, reaching into a pocket on his hoodie and pulled out a small folding knife. He started to start to cut through the rope — at least he could save the last two — before pausing as he heard a laugh he knew.

"Well, well, well, the spider's walked into the lion's den." Ryan whipped around, looking for the source of the sound. "Expecting something? Oh, no. No, no. I wouldn't find myself in your situation, you see. I bet you found Sloth and the civilian's, now."

"Why would you do this to them?!" Ryan shouted.

"Oh, my. I knew you were young, dear Ryan, but that is a ridiculously stupid question," the disembodied voice of Doctor Silas says, echoing throughout the room. Ryan freezes — how did that monster learn his name? "Cat got your tongue? Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. Oh, dear me, how could I forget? One moment."

Ryan tensed, arms brought up into a defensive stance. "I don't know what game you think this is, but— you've killed real people!" 

Silas barks out a laugh at that. "Oh, that was the point, Spider. Now, shall the show get started?"

Ryan didn't even have a moment to respond before a loud shrieking sound started rattling off the walls. His hands were instantly brought to his ears as Ronwe went mental with the sound — breaking off of Ryan's body every which way, screaming out in pain. Ronwe could die from this sound, he needed to get out of here. 

The spider took a step forward before collapsing onto his knees. The sound felt pressurizing, like it was crushing him, increasing the gravity. He was sure Silas was speaking, but he couldn't understand— couldn't hear as tears fell from his eyes. 

And then there was white. And then was the explosion.

[adudelol]

writing royal rebels first draft.. scary