Only You

Storms

She had been reading a smutty romance book in bed when Rowan had knocked at the door. It wasn't late enough that it was strange someone was knocking at her door, but she had assumed it would be Lysandra or Aedion, so she had been surprised to see Rowan standing there.

She had observed him over the last week, during training, during dinners and lunches, during their morning chats, and she had come to the conclusion that he did not like to smile. It was such a small observation to remember, but in her week of knowing him she could recall only a handful of smiles; and now she thought about it... most of them had been aimed towards her.

"I know it's late, but I was going to go for a walk, and I thought perhaps you would join me?"

She had to admit, the sound of being alone with Rowan was appealing. The more time she spent with him the more she found herself longing for the time she could spend with him again.

"A walk sounds lovely." She slipped on the boots that had been thrown on the floor with a wave of her hand had snuffed the candles and fire out in her room.

They walked in comfortable silence as they made their way through the palace, thankfully bumping into no one. The night was cooler than it had been in a while, the moon hidden behind thin wispy clouds. They wound their way down the sprawling gardens, past the training ground and towards the forest edge. The path extended through the forest, lit with small faelights and as they headed towards the trees she couldn't help but feel the butterflies that erupted in her stomach. Perhaps Rowan had sensed her sudden nervousness or he wanted to fill the silence. "Do you like it here? In Terrasen?"

She wasn't sure anyone had asked her that before, but she didn't hesitate in her answer. "I love it. I mean, of course I wish to see other places and experience new cultures... but Terrasen is my home, it always will be." She glanced towards him. "What about you? Do you like Doranelle?" It felt like a loaded question. If they accepted the mating bond Rowan would have to move to Orynth, and if he loved Doranelle...

Rowan contemplated the question for a moment, his brows furrowing slightly. "I have been to many places in my life, seen every country on this continent. Doranelle is..." He thought for a moment longer. "Doranelle has never felt completely like home."

She felt his sadness for a moment, before it disappeared. "Why do you stay there? I mean, if you are not bound to it... why not move somewhere new?"

"I had my reasons for staying I suppose. I had been a warrior for the old queen of Doranelle... and had been married."

She flinched at his words. She had not expected to be affected by his past relationships... but married.

"She died a hundred years ago." She saw the sadness that had flickered so quickly return. She did not know what possessed her to do it, but she grabbed his hand and squeezed. The touch was gentle but somehow her whole body was awake and she was basking in this glorious male before her. She could have sworn he shivered at her touch. Neither of them went to let go, and so they continued in silence for a few steps, their fingers entwined. The simple touch was electrifying and her magic hummed within her.

She finally said, "what happened to her?"

"She was murdered by a group of men who had strayed from their military base." He tightened his grip on her hand. "I was not there, and she died because she did not know how to protect herself."

It made sense then. Why he had been so pushy about her learning how to defend herself. "I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago."

She shrugged. "Loss like that sticks with you. Aedion's mother was like my own and when she died... I don't think I've ever quite got over it."

They settled into the comfortable silence again, slowly meandering through the forest path. The night was quiet, the humming of summer evenings had disappeared giving way to the stillness of autumn, even the creatures that roamed the forest floor had gone into hibernation, sheltering from the harsh Terrasen winter that was to come.

"I'd like to have a proper evening with you. Not training where everyone sits and watches, or morning tea where the maids gawk at us. I want to take you to dinner or to the theatre." Rowan had stopped, turning to her, his hand still entwined with her own. "I don't know how to do this properly." He laughed.

"Dinner or the theatre sounds wonderful, Rowan." She squeezed his hand and they gazed at each other. She had felt the bond there the past week. His presence was always lingering, even if they weren't in the same room. And despite their distance, or rather, Aelin's distance to Rowan, she still felt the pull of him. Training in the mornings had unintentionally become her favourite thing to do. When she was in meetings or entertaining other Whitethorns; she would always think of their mornings together. The way their magic seemed to dance together, how it seemed to play. Rowan had never mentioned their magic in that way. In fact, Rowan was not really a talker... She had realised that he just liked to observe. Whenever she caught herself staring, he would be staring right back— not always at her, but others. In one of his rare cases of openness he had explained you could learn a lot about a person by just watching them. She didn't mind his quietness, in fact sometimes the silence was nice.

"What are you thinking about?" They had continued their stroll, hands still entwined.

She smiled sheepishly at him. "You."

She felt their bond then, a real, tangible thing between them. Her initial reservations seemed to be miles away as she walked with Rowan.

"If it's any consolation, I think of you as well." He squeezed her hand. "You're... not what I expected."

She heard that a lot. "Better or worse?"

"Definitely better." They stopped at a gate that led to the cobbled road into the city. "The only things I knew about you were that you were young, could have a bit of a temper and the heir to Terrasen's throne."

"I didn't realise I had such a boring reputation."

Rowan laughed. "You have plenty of time to change that."

They remained in silence as they both gazed at the distant city lights.

"Are you disappointed it's me?"

Rowan turned fully toward her. She hadn't intended to ask; but he was over three hundred years old and she was barely twenty. Rowan had travelled the world and she had only left Terrasen a handful of times. It was hard to see how Rowan would see her as anything other than a girl.

"Is that what you think? That I'm disappointed?" He ran his free hand through his locks and shook his head. "When I lost Lyria I thought that was it. I was ready to spend the rest of my life alone, always mourning what I had lost that day." He took a breath. "And then I saw you in that throne room and I had purpose again. I look at you Aelin and I feel alive. And I know you want to take things slow; and I will respect that. But it's taking all of my strength not shout it to the world that you're my mate. Every part of me wants to confirm the bond and be with you as I'm meant to be. Disappointed is the last thing I feel, I am elated that it is you. And I will wait for as long as you need, even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust I will wait for you."

Aelin did not know when she had begun to cry, but she felt the tears drip on her cheeks and she went still as Rowan gently brushed them away. His calloused hand so tender as he did. She leaned into his touch, revelling in the closeness.

"Aelin?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I kiss you?"

She looked up at him, his eyes hopeful. He was magnificent, Aelin thought she could look at him forever. She didn't need to think about her answer. This male in front of her was her forever, and she would be a complete fool to let him go. To think she had been hesitant of him, of this.

"Please do." She half cried half laughed.

Rowan laughed with her and leaned in closer, his hands coming to cradle her face. His touch so feather light it made her shiver. Her heart began to race, it was the calm before the storm. She could feel his breath on her lips, her eyes fluttered closed, and the world went still at that whisper of a kiss. The world went quiet, like the silence between lightening and thunder. They were so close, so close to that kiss she had not even realised she had dreamed of. She had never wanted something so much, the waiting was insanity.

"Aelin?"

The thunder came.

Sam stood on the other side of the gate.