#tog au

[eve-laan]

Can I say something?

Life is really cruel from the moment you realize that Joe and Nicky are the only ones who don't have a flashback of them fighting in the past, like in the crusades and such. We had a tiny scene of them in character in Andy's flashback in the past, and that's it. I SWEAR, I would kill to see a flashback of them fighting when they first met or of them together walking around the world in the past.

I want to see Nicky and Joe just like two peasants

[thimbleandakiss]

hey! Could you write a fanfic based on the dreamscape Maeve created for Aelin of she and Rowan courting in doranelle? It was one of the dreamscapes that showed how things might have been had Erawan not been re-awoken. I recall a steamy bit in a natural pool?

Painless Paradise

Rowan Whitethorn x Aelin Ashryver Galathynius

Summary: In a world where Erawan is never awoken, and the Galathyniuses settle their differences with Maeve long enough to allow her to visit Terrasen, and later train Aelin under the skillful hand of Prince Rowan Whitethorn, how different would things have turned out?

Content: fluff, mild cursing, romance, suggestive ending

Cross-posted to Ao3

Playlist 1 used to write and Playlist 2 used to write

Aelin watches them arrive from the balcony of her room in the palace at Orynth. 

The envoy from Doranelle stretches for leagues. Fine horses–Asterion, no doubt–wagons of treasures Aelin can’t imagine, and more fae than anyone in the west have seen in their lives. 

She wonders what kinds of magic they brought with them. How many of them possess a fire like hers? Water, like her mother’s? 

“Your highness!” The exasperated huff from further in her room has Aelin turning and grinning. 

“Elide,” She hums, stepping back inside and closing the glass doors behind her. 

“Don’t give me that look.” Her handmaid, and closest friend, plants her hands firmly on her hips. “You know as well as I that you should’ve been in the throne room ages ago.”

“And miss seeing them arrive?” Aelin protests, even as she allows herself to be dragged through her palace chambers and out into the hall. 

“You’re third in line,” Elide reprimands, looking Aelin over. Her lack of comment about her appearance tells Aelin she’s put together enough to spare her that lecture, “Your appearance reflects on all of Terrasen-”

“Elide,” Aelin laughs, shaking her head. “The flag bearers haven’t even reached the gates of Orynth.”

The dark-eyed lady raises an eyebrow. “These aren’t the envoys you’re used to, princess.”

Aelin stares at her as they walk side-by-side down the sprawling palace halls, various staff members running back and forth in a scramble to get all last-minute preparations ready. 

“Are you going to elaborate, or…?” Aelin prompts. 

Elide rolls her eyes, “These are fae , Aelin.”

Aelin blinks again. 

Elide groans, nudging her toward corridor just behind the throne room. “They sent a few ahead in their animal forms. At least two of which were birds.”

Aelin purses her lips in understanding. She hadn’t thought about it. 

Elide’s about to shove her through a door before she pauses. “Oh! Shift.”

“Excuse me?” Aelin cocks her head, looking at the woman over her shoulder. 

“The king decided it would make a good impression if all royal members who are able were in their fae forms.”

Aelin frowns, but punches through the thin, metaphysical veil that separated herself from her immortal body. She barely has time to process the change, the elongated ears and canines, the sharpened senses, before Elide shoves her through, and Aelin picks her way between the members of her family behind the antler throne. 

Several annoyed glances are tossed her way and she just grins at them in return before taking her place beside her cousin, Aedion. 

“How kind of you to join us,” Aedion whispers in her ear and Aelin replies by subtly kicking his shin. 

Aedion chuckles and grins, shoving her shoulder. 

Before either of them can escalate it out of control, the throne room doors swing open, and Aelin and her cousin straighten with a snap. 

Two wolves, one white, one black, strode in first, shifting into two powerful males as they passed the threshold, a blonde and a raven-haired respectively. They split apart in perfect unison, falling to their knees, one fist to their hearts. 

Then comes a male who radiates a sort of darkness, a golden lion at his side, and an osprey on his shoulder, who follow in the footsteps of the previous two, shifting the moment they cross the threshold and fall to their knees. 

Aelin cocks her head in curiosity. The one hadn’t arrived in animal form. By choice? Or is he like Aedion, lacking one? Did Maeve accept demifae into her inner circle?

The questions that fill Aelin’s head come to a sudden halt as a white-tailed hawk soars into the room, shifting and kneeling a few paces ahead of the five others in one fluid motion. 

He catches Aelin’s attention immediately, and she subconsciously straightens. With his silvery-white hair and green eyes that she swears briefly flicked to hers before he fixes them on the marble floor, Aelin decides in that moment that he’s the most beautiful male she’s ever seen. 

“Welcome, Prince Rowan,” Orlon begins, his deep, kind voice filling the space, “And all of Maeve’s inner circle.”

The six took that as permission to rise. They’re all dressed in fine, exotic fabrics, the silver-haired prince–Rowan–sporting a tunic of silver, embroidered in emerald. 

Pleasantries and courtly speech Aelin can’t be bothered to pay attention to are tossed back and forth, all the while she can’t stop staring. 

Thanks to the heightened senses of this form, Aelin can scent this new male from where she stood. He smells of pine and snow. He smells of home. Something in her chest tugs forward. 

She’s jarred suddenly from her trance when she hears her name. 

“...Aelin, my niece, would be happy to show you the grounds.”

Aelin barely restrains herself from spouting I would?

Instead, she strides gracefully forward, stepping off the dais and dropping into a curtsey before the foreign prince. Silently, she thanks the gods for Marion Lochan, and all the lessons on courtly appearances she’d taught her, even if she’d spent every single one of them complaining. 

When she rises, Rowan takes her hand and brings it to his lips in a practiced motion. Something in Aelin tells her that he, too, hadn’t enjoyed whatever lessons in court he’d received. 

The muscles shifting beneath his tunic, and the tattoo curling across the side of his face speak of strength. Power. Danger. And some wicked little part of her, buried deep in her heart, stirs at that promise. 

~*~*~

“I… trust your journey was smooth?” Aelin asks, leading Rowan through her favorite part of the palace: the gardens. 

Roses, carnations, marigold, and more types of flora than Aelin can name are flourishing in the sprawling courtyard. 

“Not a bump,” Rowan replies, a sparkle of hidden humor in his emerald eyes, his voice a deep kind of rumble that has Aelin attempting to memorize the exact cadence with which he spoke. 

She curses herself for this awkward tension. Both of them seem determined to keep up the kind of manners expected of them, and both also seem to feel just as suffocated as the other by those expectations. 

Rowan’s five bond-brothers have forgone the tour in favor of assisting their queen in her own arrival. Aelin is excused from being present to greet her, in part because of her duty escorting the foreign prince around the palace, but mostly because the grand banquet officially welcoming their guests from Doranelle wasn’t for another couple hours. 

Aelin turns, grasping to find some way to keep up a conversation, to find Rowan watching her curiously, hands clasped behind his back, posture impeccable. Looking at him, Aelin subconsciously straightens her own shoulders, determined to impress. 

Even still, she cocks her head, a slow grin spreading her lips. “...What?”

“Nothing,” he says, quickly pretending to admire a nearby hydrangea. 

“Don’t give me that,” Aelin demands, striding forward and bending to try and catch his eye again. “I can almost hear your thoughts.”

When Rowan’s eyes meet hers, she gasps. I’m thinking you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen . 

Forget almost. She can hear his thoughts. 

Rowan’s lips twitch. He pulls his arm out from behind his back, a sunset rose resting delicately in his scarred palm. 

After a moment in which he seems to be contemplating something, he lifts that flower, fingertips scraping against the skin of her forehead as he sweeps her golden hair aside, tucking it behind her ear and leaving the rose in his wake. 

Aelin turns her head, trying to pretend to be unaffected. 

But Rowan sees the way she subtly brushes her fingers over the soft petals when she thinks he’s not looking. 

~*~*~

That evening, sitting beside her cousin at the high table, Aelin marvels at the spread before her. She’s never seen anything quite as grand, not even when the king of Adarlan had come over a decade ago. 

“So…” Aedion begins, glancing at the flower still tucked into her hair, fork scraping on his golden plate. Aelin groans internally. She knows whatever is about to leave her cousin’s mouth will make her want to punch something. “I take it your garden frolic with prince-”

“One more word out of your mouth,” Aelin cuts in with a purposefully polite tone, “and I will set your trousers on fire.”

Aedion gasps with mock offense, laying a hand on his chest. “In front of your new friends? That’s awfully un-princess-like.” 

Aelin can’t help but snort. 

The noise in the grand hall is so much louder than usual. Seldom in her fae form in such crowded places, Aelin’s unused to being able to clearly hear the conversations from even across the room. And, of course, she immediately decides to use this to her advantage. 

Tuning in to her parents’ and older relatives’ conversation with Maeve down the table, even their hushed voices are as crisp as if they’re sitting right next to her. 

“She has such potential,” Evalin is saying, “but no one in Terrasen is skilled enough to help her tame that explosive a power.”

Aelin has a sneaking suspicion they’re talking about her, and she subtly nudges Aedion, telling him he’d better start listening. 

She can hear the smile on Maeve’s perfect mouth as she replies smoothly, “Doranelle has many masters willing and happy to teach the young princess. Some of my own have already volunteered for the position.”

“We’d have to send Aedion with her,” Rhoe muses. 

“And Elide,” Aelin’s mother adds. 

“Who are among these volunteers?” Orlon asks.

“Two of my blood-sworn. Fenrys was the first,” Maeve takes a sip from her wine, “but I think the position better suits Prince Rowan.”

Aelin chokes on the water she’d been casually sipping, causing several heads to briefly snap in her direction. The tips of her pointed ears burning, she slowly sets down the chalice, ignoring her cousin chuckling beside her. 

“Your offer is generous,” Orlon says carefully, “I’m sure Aelin will be pleased to hear of it.”

“We will have to consider it,” Evalin adds tightly, like she’s worried about something. 

Though she dares not look, Aelin is sure her father has gripped his wife’s hand. She does, however, look up at Aedion. His turquoise eyes shimmer with a mix of apprehension and excitement, reflecting what she feels herself. To be allowed into Doranelle, trained by one of Maeve’s most powerful warriors… The idea feels like a fever dream. 

“This is the best thing for her, my love,” Rhoe murmurs soothingly. 

Aelin glances over to where Maeve’s blood-sworn sit together just to the side of the high table, only to see Rowan already looking at her. He has a small smile on his lips, like he, too, has been listening in. 

“I know.”

~*~*~

Face set in a wild grin, Aelin races through the woods after the white-haired prince a stone’s throw in front of her. 

She’s been on the eastern continent for almost four weeks now, and it’s better than she could have ever imagined. They’ve been staying in a fortress called Mistward, tucked in the forested foothills of the mountain separating Doranelle from the mortal lands. 

Rowan pushes her harder than anyone’s ever pushed her before. To him, she isn’t a princess, isn’t untouchable. 

And gods, it is refreshing . 

Already, she has more control over her wildfire than ever, able to keep bonfires lit without much thought at all. She knows how to make it all light and no heat, or hone her fire into a blade so hot the air around it wobbles. 

But by far, her favorite has to be these romps in the woods. When she meets Rowan in their usual clearing, he beckons her with a little smile before taking off into the trees, and she has little choice but to shift and chase . 

Last time, he led her to a meadow blooming with more wildflowers than Aelin could name. 

This time, as she breaks through the treeline, hardly out of breath, Aelin finds Rowan already perched on a large stone bordering a forest pool as clear and blue as her irises. 

“And here I was, thinking catching you would be challenging,” Aelin teases, trying not to gaze around with too much wonder. 

“Trust me,” Rowan says, slowly removing his belt and the impressive array of weapons he carried on his person at all times, “If I wanted to challenge you, I would.”

He peels off his shirt, and Aelin can’t help but admire the way his tattoo spills across his face, over his shoulder, and down his arm. Well, that and… a few other things. 

Kicking off his boots, Rowan slips into the water, moving to tread in the center of the pool, staring at Aelin as if daring her to follow. 

Smirking, Aelin strips until she’s left only in her underthings, not bothering to turn away, and taking immense satisfaction in watching the immortal fae warrior’s ear-tips dust with pink. 

She briefly debates running and jumping into the pool, but opts instead to slowly walk in until her feet can no longer reach the bottom. In fact, despite being able to perfectly see hers and Rowan’s bodies suspended in the water, Aelin cannot see the bottom. 

Aelin dips her head back to soak her long, golden hair, slicking it away from her face, and looks up again to see Rowan staring at her in a way that makes her skin feel warm. It’s not the same kind of look she’d seen in the eyes of oily foreign court officials, who gazed at her body and imagined all the things they could take from it. 

No, as she looks into his eyes, she can see him picturing all the things he’d lay down for her, the cities he’d raze, the armies he’d demolish. 

“You’re the most perfect creature I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he murmurs, eyes flicking back and forth between her own. 

Aelin subconsciously drifts closer until she can feel the water displaced by his swishing legs. That unbearable tension that’s existed between them since the day he arrived at Terrasen pulls taut again as she lifts a dripping hand to his face, fingertips brushing over his tattoo. 

“And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Aelin whispers in reply, eyes drifting to his lips a moment before his calloused fingers brush underneath her chin, and he pressed those lips against hers. 

The first thing that strikes her is how right this feels, and a thought tickles the back of her mind. A thought so delightful, she places both hands on the sides of Rowan’s face and pulls him closer to her, drifting back over to the rocky bank of the forest pool so he can press her against one of the large, sun-warmed boulders. 

The thought that this male is hers . Hers on a level no human connection can ever hope to reach. 

And there, back against the stone, Rowan’s body over hers as his pointed canines sink into the tender flesh where her neck meets her shoulder, Aelin feels the mating bond snap into place.

[stark-park]

If The Old Guard had Pokémon - Joe

When choosing Pokemon I’ve gone off aesthetics, personality, lore, but most importantly: vibes. Given their skill and immortality, I imagine they’d also have pokémon that are in training, or are used for more specific situations, so I couldn’t just choose 6. I’ve also made sure they have at least 1 pseudo, 1 fossil, and 1 that can mega evolve. (Credit: character art made on picrew, the artist’s tag is extraA, I then edited.)

Joe is a fashionista, an artist, and passionate beyond belief. He feels with every part of his being. I associate him with yellow and pink, so yes, those colours feature heavily here, they’re the colours of joy and passion. He can also be incredibly stylish and suave. He is definitely someone to give his mons nicknames, and I imagine they’d be adjectives like Vermillion, or names that mean things like friend.

Main / Battle Team

Sandslash - Ground - his ace, to represent his scimitar.

Pyroar - Fire Normal - He just suits lions; protective of the pride, fierce but cuddly (supportive head bonks).

Kommo-o - Dragon Fighting - his pseudo-legendary.

Cradily - Rock Grass - His fossil Pokémon. This choice was mainly aesthetics but also for type coverage. Shiny version because it’s pink!

Vivillon - Bug Flying - This mon comes in so many variations, I just know Joe would want the whole set, if not to catch then just to draw. I ended up choosing this pink one, but the sunset and savannah colourings were also beautiful.

Wigglytuff - Normal Fairy - Big eyes, big emotions, and I can imagine them painting together.

Alternative / In-Training Team

Aerodactyl - Rock Flying - A prehistoric Pokémon that also happens to be his chosen mount. It’s a formidable choice and cool as fuck.

Vulpix - Fire - Look at this little cuddly, curly-tailed girl and tell me this isn’t a perfect choice for Joe. She has the puppy dog eyes that would make anyone agree to anything.

Gastrodon - Water Ground - Two main reasons: this mon adds a good type coverage that his team was lacking with the water, and also, pink! Another reason is the fact that this mon has regenerative abilities, which is something the immortals would love - it would make them feel less alone and unnatural. (He may or may not be on the lookout for an East Sea variant for Nicky…)

Flaaffy - Electric - Yes another pink shiny mon. And the normal version would be fine too as Ampharos is yellow, but I just think Joe has the patience and luck to find shiny Pokémon 🤷‍♂️

Solrock - Rock Psychic - Sun!

Stufful - Fighting Normal - It looks cute and cuddly but it’s incredibly dangerous. Seems like a mon that would thrive in an environment with an immortal tbh.

I think The Old Guard would have an appreciation for legendary Pokémon, understanding that they’re also trying to do their best, so wouldn’t have any on their team. They would actively try to stop people from catching these types of mons. That being said, it doesn’t mean they haven’t encountered any from time to time.

For Joe, I can imagine he was having a bad day and it only got worse with the appearance of Ting-Lu - one of the legendary Ruinous Pokémon, and he’d rather forget the whole ordeal please. Tapu Koko was again, another unwanted encounter. It was actually going perfectly fine, with the mon curious about what Joe was painting, but then he stopped to enjoy a nice romantic beach day and that’s when disaster struck - Tapu Koko is known for it’s quick changing temper. Apparently Joe and legendaries don’t mix well, unless there’s a good distance between them.

He enjoyed his sighting of Ho-Oh - the rainbow pokemon. I imagine Joe is someone to always point out a rainbow and one time it just so happened to have a legendary bird at the end of it (that the others missed). And then there was the time they were crossing the sea and he saw a green and purple flying pokémon he’d never seen before, so he drew it quickly. He then lost the sketch and saw it in a museum two hundred years later with the plaque “possibly the first recorded sighting of Tornadus, the Cyclone Pokemon - unknown artist”

[zairaalbereo]

Room for Love — Part 2

Find all pages of Room for Love on tumblr

Read it all on Ao3

And then they were flat mates! 🥳

If you’re wondering how short of a comic this will be: Estimates are at 15+ pages. I have drawn/sketched nine so far. 😳 So thank you to everyone who’s been so encouraging! 💗

[shadowhandss60]

“Hey! Watch where you’re going-“

“I’m fairly certain you ran into me.”

*

*

*

A little Manorian meet-cute moment 🖤

(Art by me)

[leiawritesstories]

When We Think of Love

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 11 & 12: Song Fic & Forbidden Love @rowaelinscourt. inspired by "Soul Tied" by Ashley Singh

Word count: 3k

Warnings: angst. and pain. the song is quite sad. i'm so sorry.

A/N: this is a sort-of Regency era AU, so the language might be a little weird hahaha. also, Frederick got out of the basement. enjoy...?

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

Even though the gown was the latest fashion and only had two layers of skirts with a single underskirt and lightweight wore structure holding up its shape, Aelin felt weighed down by the fine silk that draped her frame, its rosy pink color completely at odds with the grey numbness clouding her mind. 

“You are a vision,” her mother announced, sweeping elegantly into Aelin’s dressing chamber. Evalin Ashryver, Duchess of Orynth, never walked. She floated, and she had taught her only daughter to do the same from the time she could stand. “But why are you pensive, my dear?”

“Simply lost in thought, I suppose.” Aelin painted a soft smile onto her lips. “Mayhap I am a bit nervous for tonight.” 

“As it is well you may be.” Evalin touched her daughter’s satin-gloved hand with her own. “I recall clearly the day my own parents announced my betrothal to your father. I declare I may not remember anything else from that evening.” 

Aelin gave the skirts a gentle shake, letting the fine silk drape more fluidly over the subtle hoops rounding out its shape. “Let us hope His Majesty is pleased with the arrangement, yes?” 

“Of course he is,” Evalin said, brushing away Aelin’s underlying concern. “The prince is the most advantageous match we could have made for you, Aelin dear, and Orlon has long been looking at the benefit of a military tie with Anielle. I know the two of you have only met a handful of times, but there will be ample time for you to become acquainted during the wedding preparations.” 

“I suppose there will be.” Aelin shifted her gaze back to the mirror, resisting the urge to reach up and rip the delicate silver tiara from its perch atop the coils of her hair. She was fourth in the succession for the throne of Terrasen, and she had grown accustomed to the ways in which her family demonstrated their royal position, but there were ever so many moments when she wanted nothing more than to abandon the crown and its weight and flee into the depths of the Oakwald. 

There, parted from society, she could be with her love. 

A soft knock rapped on the door, and Aelin’s lady’s maid entered, curtsying politely to Evalin. “Pardon, milady, Your Grace, but His Grace is ready.” 

“Thank you, Kaltain,” Aelin said. She turned to her mother. “We likely should not keep Father waiting; we know how quickly he disappears into his study if he does not have to make an appearance.” Evalin laughed softly and led Aelin out into the hallway and down the stairs, finding Rhoe waiting at the base of the sweeping staircase, fidgeting with his gloves. 

“Ah, there you are,” he said, looking up. “You look so lovely, my Fireheart.” He squeezed Aelin’s hands and leaned in to whisper into her ear. “I would embrace you, but your mother might strangle me for crinkling your dress.” 

She snickered. “She very well might.” 

“None of that unladylike noise,” Evalin hissed, prodding Aelin with her paper fan. She nodded at the pair of footmen by the double doors leading to the ballroom. “Shall we?” 

“I am as ready as I can be,” Aelin whispered as she placed her hand on her father’s arm. “Only help me not to fall.” 

“Of course.” Rhoe let Evalin glide into the ballroom, nodding and smiling and exchanging greetings with the swarm of beautifully dressed nobility gathered there, and at the swell of the small orchestra in the corner, he led Aelin into the throng. 

She fixed her smile firmly in place but coasted her gaze over the sea of blurred faces, seeking an anchor in the pair of pine eyes that seared into her soul. Catching Rowan’s gaze, she let loose a fraction of her anguish, silently crying her grief to him across the sea of elegantly clad gentry. 

Please forgive me.

~

Rowan Alexander Whitethorn, heir to the Duchy of Doranelle, had known Aelin since they were both small children. His family estate bordered her family holdings, but his father had only recently been elevated to the title of Duke, honored for his many years of service to King Orlon. Rowan vividly remembered the day he had first met Aelin—he was ten and she was seven, and she was a golden-blonde blur of motion on the back of a silvery mare galloping through the forest between their lands. 

“Whoa, there!” he cried in his childish voice, and he caught up with her as she managed to rein in her horse. “Are you quite alright?” 

She gave him a stare far too imperious to be coming from a young girl and tossed her hair with a sniff. “Kasida and I are perfectly fine, even though we are alone. I do not need to slouch along at a snail’s pace like my governess insists.” 

Rowan couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Pardon me, but I can’t imagine you…slouching along like that, miss…” He trailed off. “Um…” 

Her stare melted into a bright smile. “I’m Aelin. My papa is the duke of Orynth.” She held out her small hand, and he shook it. 

“And I am Rowan. My father is the duke of Doranelle.” 

“So we’re neighbors!” Aelin beamed. “I ride away from my governess very often, and I like this forest quite a lot.” 

“I like the forest too,” Rowan admitted. “It’s quieter than the manor.” 

“Sometimes I dream about living in the forest forever,” Aelin said, an odd kind of yearning flickering across her face. “But anytime I even mention it, my mama scolds me for reading too many faerie stories.” She shrugged. “I still like riding here.” 

“Miss Aelin!” The high-pitched cry echoed through the trees, and Aelin sighed. 

“That’s my governess. I ought to go and find her before she gets lost.” She smiled at Rowan again, and he felt the warmth of it in his soul. “It was nice to meet you, Rowan!” 

He managed to mumble some kind of farewell as she turned her horse around and rode off, only forming proper words once she was out of sight. It was nice to meet you too, Aelin. 

She had told the truth about riding in the forest often, and it became a habit of theirs to ride through the woods together, trading stories of what they were doing and wondering what the Oakwald, the near-mythical forest that spanned western Terrasen, would be like. As they grew older, Aelin’s stories turned from school lessons to etiquette lessons, and she had such a knack for imitating the stuffy old people at her family’s banquets that she made Rowan cry from laughter. Still, he allowed her to practice her lessons and her dancing with him, ignoring how frequently she trod on his toes when she was learning a new dance. 

And their childhood friendship turned into a partnership of sorts, a series of stolen moments of freedom and secret glances across a ballroom or dining room when their families were at a gathering together. Since she was not yet out in society, she was still largely overlooked during those events, and she was free to send him into stitches of laughter with her impersonations of the visiting nobility. He even asked her to dance several times, and she pretended to be a simpering debutante but still counted the music under her breath. He caught her any time she stumbled, and he caught each of her smiles too.

He was eighteen when he realized he had fallen in love with her. 

But she was only fifteen, so he kept it to himself, forcing himself to stay within the lines of friendship yet falling more in love with her every time she flicked a hidden glance at him during a long, boring dinner. She grew a bit more distant over the next few years, caught up in her mother’s constant lady lessons and working so hard—too hard—to be the portrait of a perfect lady, but at her eighteenth birthday ball, he worked up the courage to ask her for a dance. 

The smile that broke across her face, as bright and warm as it had been since the day he met her, kindled a wildfire in his heart. And late that night, hidden in a little-used gazebo in a corner of the Galathynius estate’s gardens, Rowan Whitethorn kissed Aelin Galathynius for the first time, and his heart surged towards hers.

Aelin made her debut at twenty, a few years later than traditional, but her parents had wanted her to wait a while longer so that society would be anticipating her debut. After all, she was fourth in line for the throne, and her marriage would undoubtedly be a topic of gossip and news from the moment she became eligible. Rowan longed for the day when he could bring her flowers and walk beside her in public, when he could finally bring the years of his love for her into the light of day, but he hesitated at the thought of exposing that delicate piece of his heart to the scrutiny of society and of Evalin Ashryver. For Aelin’s mother was a well-respected duchess, but he had seen the effects of her demanding nature on her daughter, and he feared the repercussions of her disapproval. 

He suspected, as he knew Aelin did, that one day their secret courtship would either have to be brought into the light of day or be torn apart by circumstance, but neither of them had wanted to address it. The unspoken bond between them was too precious, too beloved to be so shattered. 

Since her eighteenth birthday, he had courted her in secret, stealing precious moments and pieces of her heart beneath starry skies, foggy mornings, and shaded corners. He guarded every tiny bit of her with his life, from the letters in her tidy script that he kept tucked into his jacket pocket to the faint trace of her perfume that lingered on his collar when she kissed him. Although he could not shout his love for her from the rooftops, he reveled in their masked touches, in the flicker of humor in her eyes when she caught his gaze, in the echo of her laughter when he took her to the empty greenhouse on his family’s land and danced with her there under the sunset. With every encounter, he felt his soul drawn more and more towards hers, felt more and more as if his life were irrevocably tied to hers. 

And when he saw her across the ballroom that evening, when he caught sight of the tiara in her hair and the proud smiles on her parents’ faces and the man in the military jacket standing beside her mother at the front of the ballroom, when her eyes caught his and an ocean of anguish opened in them for a brief, wrenching moment, he felt that tie fracture. 

~

Aelin’s first kiss had been Rowan. 

Her first everything had been Rowan, the only one close enough to her heart to hold its fragile pieces and treat them with tenderness rather than callousness. From laughter-filled memories of her childhood to secret, stolen moments in the gardens during banquets and balls before her debut, to the all-too-few snatches of time she had been able to steal with him after her debut, when she wanted nothing more than his kisses and his gentle, reassuring words. 

She’d known for a long while, deep in the back of her mind, that her marriage would be a political one, for she was high in the line of succession. While it was unlikely that she would ever inherit, since Orlon could just as easily name someone else as his successor, her parents still strategized over which eligible noble could marry their daughter. They had settled on Prince Chaol Westfall of Anielle, the third son of the Prince of Anielle and a well-respected military officer. For him, marriage to Aelin was a massive step up, because he was so far down in the succession for the throne of Adarlan that he’d probably never known he was in line. For her, the marriage would secure military ties between Terrasen and Adarlan, a powerful alliance of nations. 

She did not know the man save for a few cursory meetings. 

At least, she supposed as she walked up to his side, he was not terribly hard on the eyes. He was even passably attractive, if a lady was drawn to brown-haired men in military uniforms with all the apparent personality of boiled potatoes. 

“Your Highness,” Aelin murmured, dipping in a graceful curtsy to Chaol. “It is an honor.” 

“The honor is entirely mine, Your Royal Highness,” he replied, bowing low. 

With a flourish, Rhoe and Evalin turned out towards the assembled crowd, Aelin still with her hand on her father’s arm. The crown quieted, and Rhoe smiled warmly. “We have delightful news for all of you this fine evening. Our daughter, Aelin, has accepted the hand of Prince Chaol Westfall in marriage, and with all good hope, they shall be married in two months’ time!” Applause rippled through the ballroom, and Aelin mentally prepared herself for an evening of simpering congratulations. Beaming at her, Rhoe lifted her hand from his arm and placed it ceremonially into Chaol’s hand, linking the hands of the young couple. 

“Would you like to dance?” Chaol asked, polite but also perceptive—he’d picked up on her unwillingness to be faced with a string of saccharine compliments from the noble ladies. 

She flicked him a crooked grin. “I would love to.”

He led her onto the polished parquet floor and swept her into a waltz, his steps sure and practiced, quick and light on his feet. She must have murmured in surprise, because he grinned, the expression almost boyish. “I took dancing lessons too, once upon a time.” 

“I almost forgot you were nobility under all that military regalia,” she teased. To her pleasant surprise, she found it easy to make conversation with Chaol, albeit mostly small talk and nothing about important issues. As the dance drew to a close, she skimmed her gaze across the ballroom and, once again, caught Rowan’s tormented eyes, his look a caress of her heart. 

Determination sparked suddenly in Rowan’s expression, and he meandered through the crowd, joining the queue of congratulatory nobility, but when he reached Aelin, he bowed like any other eligible gentleman and reached for her dance card. “Might you have a dance for me, my lady?” 

“I believe I do,” she said lightly, pretending this was just another ball and he was just another man who had asked her to dance. Chaol, who had no idea who Rowan was, simply shook Rowan’s hand and accepted his civil words, not noticing the well-concealed grief beneath the congratulations. 

Rowan escorted Aelin onto the dance floor, and he placed one gloved hand at the curve of her waist and took her hand in his free one. As he led her through the sweeping, intricate curves of the dance, he subtly tugged her just a fraction closer than appropriate, just an inch nearer to the unsteady pulse of his heart. “Did you know?” he murmured, and her fractured heart cleaved further at the anguish that pierced his words. 

“No,” she whispered, and she looked into his eyes, baring the depth of her own anguish to him. “I did not.” 

His gaze flicked out the open windows, glancing for an instant towards the expansive gardens, knowing the privacy they could steal, if only for a moment, out there. “One moment?” he asked, turning her smoothly in a circle so her skirts flared out in a perfect arc. 

“One moment,” she agreed, and she folded the mask of happiness back across her face. Rowan bowed over her hand as the dance ended, his lips just barely skimming the satin of her glove. He let her walk back towards Chaol, towards her parents, and he took an opposite course, stopping to dance with another young lady before he covertly stepped out a side door and disappeared into the gardens. 

Aelin waited a few more minutes before she touched Chaol’s shoulder and whispered to him that she needed a moment for relief, and she quietly slipped out a different side door, one that led directly to a refreshing room. Before she could reach the powder room, though, she turned down a different hall and went outdoors, entering the gardens through a little-known side gate. Her heart guided her down the familiar paths of the labyrinth, and she found Rowan in an alcove near the center, seated on a stone bench cast half in shadow by the faint sliver of moonlight. 

“Rowan,” she breathed, heart thumping unsteadily. 

In a rushed blur, his lips were on hers, his arms firm and strong around her waist, supporting her as her legs buckled. She cupped the back of his head and kissed him hard, desperate, the ache in her heart poured into the press of her lips, the curl of her tongue. When she drew back, tears shone in her eyes, but she tipped her head back so they could not fall. 

“I love you, Rowan,” she whispered. Simple, true, broken. 

Tenderly, his thumb stroked the line of her jaw. “I love you, Aelin.” Simple, true, ruined. “But you are betrothed.” He took a single step back, wrenching himself away from the woman who had brought warmth and healing and love into his life. Wordless, she could only nod, every regret and wish that shone in her eyes tamped down by the force of duty. 

She straightened her skirts, righted the dainty tiara in her coiffure, adjusted her gloves, and with one final lingering heart-searing gaze, she left the alcove, heading back into the manor, back towards her family and her betrothed and her duty. So too Rowan turned and walked out of the gardens, but he circled the side of the manor, went into the drive, and signaled his coachman. He climbed into his carriage, closed the door, rapped on the roof, and set his course for home. 

Where his own arranged betrothal awaited him.

~~~

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[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - Ch. 1

Fic masterlist

Oh, hi, guys! Welcome to my new hyper fixation!! *fireworks* *champagne glasses* *me smiling like a maniac*

I really hope you like this new au! My other ones are still in progress, I’m just really excited about this lol

Warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking, mentions of sketchy cigars, mentions of a fistfight, mentions of a sprained ankle, promises of smutty times

Words: 3,3k

This party was falling apart. Literally.

Uncle Orlon thought it was a good idea to bring Aelin to this year's Aviator's Ball, so she could meet her future bosses with a little less pressure. At first, it was all fancy uniforms, expensive drinks and small talk. Now that it was past midnight, some of the older officers with the highest ranks had left—Like Orlon and Darrow—, a drunk major knocked down a massive flower arrangement, and the guy Aelin was flirting with had offered her a very sketchy-looking cigar, which she politely declined.

When two lieutenants started a fistfight, Aelin knew it was time to go.

She speed walked through the crowd of people, and even bumped her shoulder against the party planner's, who was going toward the brawl. The poor girl.

When she finally stepped outside, it felt like she could finally breathe.

"Staying out of trouble?" A deep voice asked her. Aelin looked around until she found an officer leaning on the side of the stairs that led to the garden. With his face lit up by the moonlight and eyes sparkling as they studied each other, he was breathtaking. Or at least that was Aelin's first thought when she saw him.

Aelin walked towards him. Staying out of trouble was Uncle Orlon's only request, but she also didn't want to look bad in front of her future bosses and future coworkers. That sounded like a suicide mission.

"Seems like that's what you're doing."

The hot officer chuckled. "Turns out being locked up becomes really easy when you're in the military. Specially when you make yourself some unruly friends."

"Have you ever been to the guardhouse?"

"Fuck, no."

She leaned against the wall on his side and shook his hand. "I'm Aelin."

"Rowan."

Turning fully towards him, she flipped her hair back a little to expose her shoulders and cleavage. "It's really hot in here, isn't it?"

Rowan got sidetracked by her exposed skin for a millisecond, then his eyes snapped back to hers. "You think so?"

"I know so, and I think it's because of—"

"Global warming, I know. God, this city gets hotter each year."

"What?"

He tilted his head. "You don't agree? This city's weather is hell."

Aelin clamped her lips together and tried not to laugh, even though her shoulders were shaking already. "I was going to land a pickup line, Rowan."

"Oh." He blushed, and it was the most adorable thing. "I thought we were talking about carbon monoxide."

Aelin chuckled. "Well, you ruined my pickup line now."

"My roommate teaches me a lot of those, but I won't use them."

"Why?"

Rowan leaned sideways on the wall and smirked. "Because I'm not trying to pick you up, I'm feeling like pinning you down instead."

She looked up, gaping. Aelin could kill that blunt, sassy grin of his. Or kiss it. God, she really wanted to kiss him now. Since he noticed her minutes ago, actually.

It was beautiful, how that smirk melted as his eyes darkened. The fabric of his uniform under her fingertips and Aelin's hands going up until they reached the lapels and clenched.

With both hands on her waist, Rowan was already one breath away from her when he closed their lips together with small, tentative brushes. At least until Aelin closed her arms around his neck and almost crushed their faces together, deepening the kiss.

His hands were everywhere. Her hips, her waist, toying with the straps of her dress. All that clashing and flicking and grabbing was making her heartbeat go wild. When it became too much, Rowan grabbed her upper arms and mentioned to lean away, but Aelin gently bit his lower lip to stop him.

Stay here, she conveyed.

He gave her small, gentle kisses and rested his forehead against hers, both heavily breathing against each other.

"You're not someone's wife, right?"

"What?" she breathed. Aelin's mind was still foggy from the kiss, she must've heard the wrong thing.

He swallowed and slid his hand down her arms, squeezing her fingers at the end. "That's why Fenrys got into a fistfight at the party. He made out with another officer's wife."

Aelin leaned away to properly look at his face, trying to understand what was going on. First, who the hell is Fenrys? Second, did he just stop their kiss to ask if she was married? Because he was avoiding a fistfight?

She sighed. You know what, that was fair.

Shaking her head, Aelin wiggled all her ringless fingers.

His eyes assessed her lack of uniform. "Someone's daughter, then. I think that's even worse."

A troublesome smirk was her only answer. Well, she was someone's great-niece, but it became almost the same if she considered Orlon raised Aelin since she was eight.

Looking up, Rowan cursed under his breath. Probably calculating his chances of being punished for this if her date—Brigadier Galathynius, not that he knew it—discovered. Proving her theory right, he asked, "They outrank me, right?"

Aelin raised her eyebrows. "You want to fuck me or not?"

"What?" His eyes widened, then he flinched. "Fuck, sorry, babe." He trailed kisses from her jaw to her lips, tugging her closer by the waist.

She hummed. That was much better.

"Do you want to leave before this party burns itself to the ground?" He whispered in her ear.

She chuckled. "Sure."

They were silently walking wherever he was leading her. One-night stands were so awkward sometimes, but Aelin was feeling good about this one. There was something comforting about Rowan, but she was failing to point what exactly. At one point, their hands accidentally grazed, but he kept them there and slowly intertwined their fingers.

Aelin hid a grimace when she saw his car, though. "I live in the village." She pointed in the direction of one of the military villages they had close by. "We can go by foot."

"You think I'd drink in front of all my bosses?"

He had a good point. It seemed like he was the only officer who cared, though. She had no idea how he understood her concerns so quickly, but Aelin didn't want to think too hard on this.

"I thought you should know I just moved in and my house is... lacking." He scratched the back of his head. "If you don't mind."

"Oh." She tilted her head. "We can go to my place, if you think that's better."

His shoulders dropped in relief. "You're sure it won't cause trouble?"

"I know my way around those security cameras." Aelin waved him off and leaned her side on his car. "But I still need to know what's lacking in your house."

Rowan's cheeks went crimson in a heartbeat. "I have a bed, it just hasn't arrived yet."

Aelin started cackling, her body trembling with laughter as he stared at her with the corners of his lips tugging up.

"I physically have a matteress, though!" He yelled over her laughter and opened the car, "And a great wall."

Things got quieter inside the car, so it was Aelin's cue to update her boyfriend, who was a little back and forth between Doranelle and Rifthold these days. He never told her about his one-night stands, which she didn't mind, but it felt wrong to sleep with someone without telling him.

Aelin: found myself a hot officer for the night

Aelin: we're going to my place

Dorian: how hot is he

Aelin: 8,5 maybe?

Such a horrendous lie. Aelin never graded her boy toys above 9 because she felt better if only her actual boyfriend was a 10. Truth was, if Dorian is a 10, Rowan is at least a 12. Actually, he was so handsome it made a lot of sense grading him above maximum score.

Dorian: nice

Dorian: have fun babe x

Rowan cleared his throat when they arrived at the village. Quickly tucking her phone back inside her purse, Aelin gave the directions of her house and made him park two houses before.

They silently walked together, until she stopped him on the border between her house and the neighbor's.

"I'm assuming you don't want to get caught by the cameras, since you're so scared of my uncle."

His eyes sparkled now that she satisfied his curiosity. Or maybe made it worse. There was no way to know. "An uncle, then." Rowan raised his eyebrows. "I'm not scared of him, but it would be nice if you could assure me he won't put me in the guardhouse for this."

Aelin snorted. Orlon couldn't hurt a fly if he wanted to, and even Darrow was a huge softie inside. But just the thought of sneaking out a little with her hot officer sent a thrill down her spine, so she kept her mouth shut.

"This wall we're in, it's a blind spot." When Aelin looked at Rowan, he was the most focused she'd seen tonight. An airman ready for battle. "We'll follow that path until we reach the porch, then we climb on the first window. It's my cousin's room, but he doesn't live here anymore. Then I'll check if the coast is clear, and my room is the one right next to it. Got it?"

Rowan nodded, eyes still calculating their path.

"It's the only way to get inside without getting caught on camera," Aelin added.

"This sounds like my training."

Aelin made eye contact, her chest a little more thrusted out than before. "Is the reward as good?"

"Not really, no," he muttered, his eyes on her lips.

"Well, you'll have to work for it, Officer," she said before tugging his arm towards the low fence they needed to climb.

~~

From the moment Aelin decided she wanted to become a doctor, she knew she'd work at the Air Force General Hospital.

This was the place she came to get her first casket when she was nine, after falling from her rollerskates. The place Aelin reached for when she got a little too drunk at seventeen, and made Aedion flirt with the doctor so she wouldn't snitch on them to Uncle Orlon. She was comfortable there. It felt familiar.

During those early daydreams about her own life, Aelin never thought about the moments she'd wish she worked somewhere else, though. They were nothing more than fleeting thoughts, she loved her job. But they still happened on days like this.

When Aelin opened the X-ray images on her computer, the boy's ankle didn't seem to be broken. One small blessing.

His eyes went wide when she told him so. "But it feels like it is."

Aelin gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's just a sprain, but I'll prescribe you some painkillers and—"

"Good, now we can go back to training," his instructor interrupted.

A death glare was Aelin's only response before she continued, "And I need you to rest that feet for two days—"

"Absolutely not!" The unwanted instructor cut in again, making the boy freeze on his seat. "What's the point of painkillers if he can't even exercise?"

"Captain Whitethorn," she hissed, "I believe I am the doctor here."

He slowly turned to that terrified boy. "Do you mind giving the doctor and I a moment to speak?"

"No." Aelin got up before he could. "Captain Whitethorn and I can talk in another room." She pointed at his swollen ankle. "You rest that feet."

Rowan followed her to an empty room two doors down, and they closed the door, it was like... It was like every other day, actually.

"You." He pointed a finger at her. "Do not question my authority in front of my students, Lieutenant."

"And you." She pointed a finger back. "Do not question my authorithy as a doctor in front of my patients, asshole."

"I was not trying to—"

"Yes, you were!" Aelin screamed this time. "Every day, you question what, when, how—"

"Well, maybe I wouldn't need to question if you just—"

"If I just what?" She opened her arms, tired of this. "If I just acted exactly like you?"

Rowan just stared at her with that intense look of his.

Aelin took a deep breath. She wouldn't put sense in Rowan's head by screaming. She never did.

"Luca—"

He raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? You're trying to guilt trip me by using his first name?"

"It's his first week here, and he's already in the hospital, Rowan! He's a teenage boy! He's someone's kid!" Aelin yelled, her tone increasing with each argument.

"Don't you even think about mentioning my daughter! He's the one who enlisted. I'm just doing my job."

She sighed. "I know you are, but your teaching techniques..."

He scoffed. "Don't act like you didn't love my teaching techniques back then."

"Fuck you!"

There were two loud bangs in the door before Aelin's tiniest, angriest co-worker barged in.

"You two." Elide's finger darted between them before she continued. "Seriously? Again?"

Rowan didn't dare point out that he was being talked down by someone with a lower rank than his. He knew better than to argue with Elide.

She continued, "I'm going to discharge your patient, and you two are leaving. Now."

Aelin looked at her watch. Fuck, they needed to rush if they didn't want to be late.

She turned to Rowan. "I'll be in the car in 5." And stopped. Aelin slowly turned to Elide and said, "Tell the patient that Captain Whitethorn told him to go home and come back in two days."

Rowan clenched his jaw, arms already crossed, but said nothing. He knew he had no chance with Aelin and Elide together.

The drive was pretty silent after that, but not exactly comfortable. She knew their fight hadn't ended yet, but it had to for now. They needed to look composed for this.

They heard the deafening sound of children screaming before the car could park at the Air Force school, made specially for the children of the Air Force personnel. It wasn't one of those fancy Montessori schools with hyper-specialized teachers, but it was a good school right next to the village they lived in. It was the best choice for them.

Rowan didn't think so. And he always let her know that, from big arguments to the classic arms-crossed-and-narrowed-eyes thing he was doing now.

She wouldn’t acknowledge his dissatisfaction now, though. They walked together until the pre-K area, which was separated from the big kids', and it took no time at all until a soft set of limbs wrapped themselves around her legs.

Aelin crouched down to talk to her daughter and adjust that messy hair, taking it out of the front of her gorgeous deep green eyes, when Maisie's jaw fell. And she shrieked.

"DADDY!" Was the only thing she screamed before jumping on Rowan's arms, always ready to catch her. "You said you couldn't pick me up today."

Maisie's hair was completely her own, Aelin noticed as her daughter had her back turned at her, on her dad's arms. Not as pale as Rowan's, not as golden as Aelin's. She had Aelin's nose but, apart from that, Maisie looked like a small Rowan Whithethorn with chubby cheeks.

She was just waiting for her face to be right next to his and... yep, there it is. Copy, paste, add childish features. Genetics sounded a lot simpler than what she studied in college while looking at those two.

Rowan was spinning her around, and Mai's squeals of delight were almost deafning. For the first time since seeing Rowan today, Aelin felt like smiling.

They had conflicts, yes, but Aelin couldn't deny that he was a great dad. She had never resented Rowan for being the parent with the stronger genes, or Maisie for being so much like her father. On the contrary. She even thought it was cute, especially when she saw her daughter's little frown or her shy demeanor with strangers. Maisie's a Whitethorn through and through, or so Rowan's family point out every time they meet.

"How was your day, hun?" Aelin asked on the walk back to the car while brushing her little girl's hair back with her hand.

"I got the littlest, babiest grapes today." She stopped in the middle of the parking lot and opened the lunchbox. "Look!"

Inspecting it, Aelin noticed Maisie's littlest, babiest grapes looked like a car ran them over. "What happened to them?"

She took the lunchbox back and frowned. "I don't know. I slept with them at nap time to protect them, but it didn't work out."

Aelin's lips were clamped together, trying hard not to laugh. That little girl probably squished the poor grapes to death. Rowan seemed to think the same, from the way the corners of his lips were tugging up. Noticing Aelin's stare, he gave her a small smile while ruffling their daughter's hair. She quickly looked away.

They never picked her up together when Maisie was in daycare, but they were doing it as an encouragement now that she was still adapting to preschool.

She always missed one parent while in another's house, even if she spent no more than three days in each house and had daily goodnight calls. Every morning was a different meltdown because she says she doesn't like school, so promising Maisie that both parents would pick her up was a good way to stop a tantrum. Some days, at least.

Their daughter was asleep in the car seat, exhausted from preschooler life, so they kept quiet while Aelin drove Rowan back to base for his night class.

"I'll call you," was the only thing he said. Not goodbye or thank you for the ride.

Aelin knew she meant he'd call Maisie for their goodnight call, but she took the bait anyway. "No, you'll call Maisie."

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose, and Aelin could feel her body go tense again. He was the one annoyed, really?

"I don't understand why we keep having the same conversation over and over."

"Me neither, is that so hard to stop calling me and use the f—" she glanced at Maisie, still asleep. "Fucking parenting app?" Aelin whispered.

"You know what?" He leaned closer to her, hand resting on the car panel. "It is. I hate that app."

"I. Don't. Care. I can't have you calling me several times a day to ask stupid shit like if I packed Maisie's lunch."

Rowan frowned. "That kind of comment isn't helping, Aelin. In fact, it makes me even more concerned."

Was he implying that Aelin didn't care?

Heat flushed through her whole body as she saw red. "Get out of my car."

He didn't.

"Now!" Aelin whisper-yelled, still trying not to wake Maisie up. "Don't you have a student to screw or something?"

Rowan's eyes widened, and every feature of his face slowly started looking consumed by rage. From his glare to his reddened face.

He held back, though.

"You know what?" Rowan unfastened his seatbelt. "I can't talk to you when you're like this."

"Great." Aelin knew she had gone too far. She'd think about it the day she actually cared.

"And I'll call you as many times a day I want whenever you're with my daughter."

He got out and slammed the car door.

Rowan's body went taut at the same time Aelin flinched. They both knew what was happening now.

"Mommy, where's Daddy going?" Their daughter asked a moment later, rubbing her eyes.

Maisie's lips started wobbling the second she noticed Rowan was leaving, and she was wailing even before he could get into the backseat to soothe her. He kept saying that he'd see her at their goodnight call later and tomorrow at the pickup again, but nothing seemed to work.

Resting her head on the steering wheel and taking a deep breath, Aelin tried to think of something. The best bribes were always ice cream or more screen time. She needed to pick her weapons wisely.

@aelinchocolatelover

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[linaxart]

Guitarist Joe for @theartguard July theme Music 🎸