Rowaelin oneshots

17 au

Rowan felt like an idiot in a suit. A fish out of water, if you will. He much preferred his training sweats and quites often no shirt. He liked to feel the sting of the wind.

However, when in Rifthold . . .

Yeah, this mission apparently required stealth and buisness suits. D: But Rowan could deal with that, because later that night in their raid of the vault, he would be playing the long standing champion for the right to play in the ring. All he had to do was beat him, and then Maeve got the right to buisness partner with the King of Assassins in Rifthold.

It was going to be a breeze.

Fenre nocked on the door again, and a man in a suit came to answer.

Immeadiately Rowans eyes assessed the man - the King Of Asssassins. He was average in height, with neatly curled brown-red hair. He lookd to be not that much older than Rowan, but he knew that he was at least in his early thirties.

He was carrying an array of weapons, visible and not. Some, such as the Rapier at his side and the knife strapped to his thigh, were visible only to scare. Others, such as the hunting knife he could see stashed in the sole of his boot, were there for his use, and his alone.

All in all, he looked like the kind of man he could see Maeve in an alliance with.

Evil in the mind.

"Come in," he guestured ino his hallway.

As we walked the halls, and the rooms became obvious, it was clear to Rowan that these people bathed in luxury. That although at night they may creep out and kill, their daily lives were much more relaxed.

"That's the third lounge, that's the indoor pool, the games room, that one leads down to the vaults, and that one -"

There was a loud thump from the room he was guesturing too, and he cut himself off, "well, maybe just don't go in there."

And with that, Rowan had to go in there. But as they walked on, a figure emerged from it to join them. The girl - and they were defininently female - was wearing a red silk dress with a plunging neckline, and golden embroidery climbing up the curves of her hips and chest. However, her face was distorted with a mask, and her boots were clearly combat boots, and knives were neatly strapped to the insides of her wrists and could be wielded with a flick of the wrist.

A dangerous beauty.

"Arobynn," she purred. "You weren't going to leave me off the tour, were you now?"

He glared at her, "shouldn't you be in the gym?"

"Trying to book your day around mine, are we? And no, I was booked in the gym but esteemed Mr Cortland told me we had guests, and I had to meet and greet."

Both of them sent fake smiles their way and Rowan gulped. This kind of politics was not in his skills range.

Lorcn cleared his throat, "I believe lunch was the plan?"

"Yes," smiled the girl, who is currently being eyed up by Fenre, and Rowan had to wonder if she knew what Fenre was thinking, because he did, and it didn't sit well in his head.

"The dining room is this way," Arobynn pulled them into a room. "And seeing as Missy is so eager to join us, I'll add a spot to the seating arrangement."

His glare at her told wonders along the lines of, you'll pay for this later.

The girl - now known as Miss Sardothian - smiled bright and fake, and plopped down on the chair right of the head of the table. Rowan didn't know how, but he ended up next to her, perched on the edge of his chair so as not to accidentally bump arms with her.