AN: Thank you all for being so patient with me as we embark upon this final stretch of IDWTW! I think there will be approx. 15 chapters left until the end (and we’re already over 300k lololol). This signals the beginning of the end, and there’s a lot to unpack in this one. I really enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it. I’ve been waiting for this reveal for LITERAL YEARS. I hope it makes as much sense to you as it did for me. 5k words of getting into it. See you on the other side. Can’t wait to hear what you all think!!!
Based on the prompts:
Person A: “I’m glad you are here.” Person B: “Really? Admitting that you missed me, are we?”
Aelin forced a smile and saw it reflected back on her cousin’s face as he rounded the corner toward her table. Her mind was reeling. What the hell was Aedion doing here? Of all places to be on New Year’s Eve, the tiny diner on the suburban outskirts of Orynth was the last place she thought she’d find him. And that wasn’t even taking into consideration the extremely surprising company he was keeping.
Adion’s blue-gold eyes crinkled at the corners as he scrunched up his face in a carefully constructed expression of surprise and joy as he wrapped her in a giant bear hug, pulling her out of the booth and into his thick embrace.
“What the hell, Aed?” Aelin muttered into his ear as he squeezed her tighter.
He ignored her, simply putting her back onto the floor with an ungraceful thud and ruffling her hair, as if she were a small child. She poked at his side and simultaneously stuck her tongue out in his direction, expressing her annoyance in the only way she knew how, causing a genuine sliver of joy to appear in his turquoise eyes.
Hey! I know its been a while so click on the master list if you want to catch up or even start. Im going to try to start updating more frequently in the next few months. Thanks to everyone for reading!!
Aelin woke with a start to the sound of her phone ringing.
“Shit.” She swore, quickly realizing she must’ve fallen asleep after her conversation with Fenrys. She hung up on the call, silencing that obnoxious ringing as she sat up in bed. Aelin hadn’t bothered to check who it was, but she knew she’d figure it out if she went back downstairs.
It was probably Lysandra, calling to make sure Aelin wasnt already passed out drunk somewhere. It wouldn’t be the first time. Groaning internally, she picked herself up off the bed. Despite her falling asleep, the duvet covers looked unruffled. Still, she fluffed the pillow briefly in an attempt to ease her own discomfort at sleeping in Dorian’s room.
With one last look to confirm that the room appeared undisturbed, Aelin closed the door shut behind her. She made it halfway down the staircase when the exhaustion hit her. It was a familiar feeling, like when you were abruptly waken from sleep to attend a six am practice at school. Still, she clung extra hard onto the railing for a moment in order to gain her bearings once again.
As her eyes finally focused, she could make out the throng of high schoolers in the living room below her. Her eyes adjusted to the colourful lights as she scanned the area for a familiar face. She saw Lorcan first, and then Rowan beside him, the latter scowling. At first it didn’t seem odd, Rowan was always scowling at something. She took another few steps down the stairs, and with closer examination, realized something was wrong.
A new sketch featuring a scene from Kingdom of Ash where Aelin and Rowan take a quiet moment during their cave treasure pilfering to exchange rings! This was voted on by my Patreons for the August Sketch-a-Wish!
*high squeaky mocking voice* “You don’t actually want to live in a fantasy world.Those characters are so traumatized…”
Ok thanks, except I’m in the real world and I’m still getting traumatized and I don’t get to ride dragons here so ehhh maybe, I don’t know, just possibly.. I might be okay with just a tad bit of sword-themed-trauma.
Friendly reminder that Rowan Whitethorn is one of the most respectful Sarah J Mass men.
Words can’t describe how much I loved reading about him and how he felt about Aelin. He was full prepared to allow her to marry someone else if it meant saving Terrasen. He respected her decisions despite his feelings towards her. And an honourable mention goes to the gold nightgown scene where he told her they should wait before they truly got involved with each other. Now that’s a real man right there.
I really like to write, but I’ve never written a fic. I don’t know where to start and I can’t seem to be able to come up with a solid idea. Like I really want to write a rowaelin one, but I don’t know what I want it to be about except that it’s going to be a modern AU.
Does anybody have any tips or ideas for me? I would be extremely grateful for any help!
Also if anyone wanted to check out my work I have it posted on Wattpad, it’s called ancientdaisy56
This is all just my personal opinion so take this as you will
Dorian: Would love pop music. Like One Direction, Shawn Mendes, the top 40? All his jam. I also think he would be the kinda guy to be constantly singing Tik Tok songs annoying the hell out of his friends.
Rowan: He would love RnB. All the relaxing vibes would help him keep his cool around Aelin. I feel like he would like Khalid a lot and I’m not just saying that because he’s the only RnB artist I know lol.
Aelin: She would definitely listen to Doja Cat and Megan thee Stallion. It’s Girl Boss music and she is the girl boss. I also get the vibe she would enjoy listening to Queen. I don’t know why, but I think it fits her vibe.
Chaol: He would probably listen to Imagine Dragons and Twenty One Pilots. He would also say he hated Dorians music, but would secretly love jamming out to One Direction because lets be honest that shit slaps.
Aedion: Definitely a classic rock guy. Journey, AC/DC, and Van Halen would all be up his ally. Maybe even some Billy Joel. And we all know Aelin would force him to listen to her music so he would secretly have a playlist of the songs he likes.
Lysandra: Harry Styles. Her favourite album would probably be fine line with the self titled album as a close second. She would also enjoy some Coldplay, more than likely their earlier stuff.
Manon: She would listen to Panic at the Disco. Not High Hopes, while she would like it, her favourite era would be I write Sins not Tragedies. Billie Eilish would also be her jam, especially her newer stuff.
To leave this island forever and not have to worry about being discovered anymore.
I wasn’t always this macabre, but two thousand days of checking over my shoulder and wishing for a man’s murder has dulled the wishful excitement I felt when I first got here.
Five years ago, I was grateful to even be alive.
I couldn’t believe a stranger give up everything for me and the others–couldn’t believe she’d agree to fight this battle because of my decision.
I have to actually remind myself to still be grateful to her, if I’m being honest.
Because sometimes I think about that night all those years ago, when she showed up in the darkest part of the night to kill me. When she’d held the knife with a trembling hand and told me that the price for betraying Arobynn Hamel was my life. When we discovered together that she couldn’t bring herself to kill me.
Sometimes I think it would be better if she would’ve just done it.
At least it would’ve been over.
At least I wouldn’t have to spend years on an island, living the same day over and over again. I think that’s what’s driving me mad, beyond anything else.
The predictability of my time.
Every day, I follow the same routine. The routine she laid out for me in a hushed whisper.
I wake up and go to the small café a mile down the road to watch the news. And every day, I pray to see Arobynn Hamel’s face next to to the words, “Breaking news: billionaire crime boss found dead.”
Because that was her only stipulation.
That the ten of us would stay on the island, hidden from sight, until news of his death was announced. In exchange, we got to live.
She’d warned me it would take a long time.
She’d told me to not get complacent.
And then she’d whispered what she planned to do.
Even now, over five years later, the words she’d whispered while shoving a plane ticket and a new passport into my hands were crystal clear.
“The devil isn’t going to go down easy.”
~Aelin~
The shaft of her recently-fashioned shiv was cold in her hand as she silently grabbed it from under her pillow.
The soft clink of the bars shutting again told her whoever had just snuck in her cell was now locked in with her.
Unfortunate for them.
She wasn’t afforded the luxury of a clock, but she knew it was the middle of the night. Normal visiting hours were far over. There was no one here but the bored night guards, four janitorial staff, and rows and rows of sleeping inmates.
And the idiot trying to sneak up behind her bed.
She kept her eyes closed as she listened to the quiet steps walk closer and closer. Right when she was about to turn around and attack, they stopped.
Then the weirdest thing happened. It sounded like whoever it was slid down the wall directly across from her bed.
A killer wouldn’t do that.
Curiosity piqued, Aelin turned her head to see who and what was going on.
It was dark in the cell, but she’d recognize that shock of silver hair anywhere.
“Rowan?” she whispered, so quietly she almost didn’t even hear herself. “What are you doing here?”
He didn’t respond, but the way his muscles tensed told her he’d heard her.
Slowly, she sat up so she could see him better and maybe figure out what was going on.
For the first time in a long time, he looked less than perfect. Far less than it, actually.
His hair was going every possible direction, like he’d been running hands through it and pulling on it. He was wearing a gray t-shirt, rumpled dress slacks, and tennishoes that weren’t even tied.
But that wasn’t what worried her most. It was the way he was sitting completely still and silent.
He didn’t even look like he was breathing.
“Hey,” she tried again. “What’s going on? Look at me.”
Another few heartbeats passed, and then he slowly shook his head.
“Please, Rowan. Just look at me.”
He winced, like hearing her say his name physically hurt him.
And then his head came up.
Deep green eyes met hers, and even though it was what she’d wanted, what she’d needed, Aelin instantly wished he’d look away.
Because with one look, she knew he’d figured it out.
He knew, and the pain and turmoil in his eyes… she’d put that there.
She’d seen him angry and sad and happy and everything in between, but she’d never seen him, or anyone else, look so broken.
He looked completely and utterly broken as he sat before her.
“Rowan,” she whispered, shaking her head even though she didn’t know why.
He bowed his head again, seemingly unable to even look at her.
“Ro,” she whispered, dropping to her knees in front of him.
Almost like the old nickname broke something inside him, Rowan’s shoulders started to shake.
And then he sobbed.
It was the kind of sob that couldn’t possibly be held in. The kind that made her heart clench and tears brew in her own eyes, the kind that told her how much pain he was in.
Tears ran down her cheeks as she put a hand on his arm. He shook off the touch like it burned him and looked up at her again.
“I ruined your life,” he croaked, the tears on his face reeking of self-hatred. “I ruined your life.”
She shook her head. “No, you didn’t.”
Anger bled into his tone. “I put you in prison for eight years for murdering people who aren’t even fucking dead, Aelin. I didn’t listen to you, didn’t look hard enough. I’ve had the clues you left me for eight years. We were in love, and I didn’t even try hard enough to… I… please explain to me how I didn’t ruin your life.”
“You did not ruin my life, Rowan,” she told him again, meaning every word.
“Eight years of your life, gone because of me. I don’t even understand how you can look at me.” He huffed a laugh, but he was far from amused. “No wonder you hate me.”
His chest was heaving, his hands were in fists, and his stubble-crested jaw was damp with tears.
And she’d thought he hadn’t cared.
Aelin felt like a fool–a horrible, stupid fool–for ever doubting him. For thinking him indignant.
Because this was technically what she’d wanted. What she’d plannedto happen.
She’d wanted it to hurt, had wanted him to feel an ounce of what she’d felt when he’d led the case against her.
But it wasn’t what she wanted anymore.
Moving slowly, Aelin crawled onto his lap, put her hands on the side of his face, and lifted his gaze to hers while she said, “Arobynn Hamel ruined my life, not you.”
He shook his head, breathing heavily. “No-”
She cut him off by wrapping herself around him.
Like she was trying to heal physical wounds, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his head to her chest. She sank into him until there wasn’t an inch of space between them. Her hands wandered over his back as she held him tight to her.
He was stiffer than a board at first, but eventually he sagged against her, wrapping his arms around her in return.
It was like he was drowning in the sea, and she was the only thing preventing him from being swept away. He shook, his entire body trembling, and his arms became a vice around her.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered after a moment.
She shook her head, but it didn’t matter. He said it again, and again, and again, until his voice was hoarse and broken.
Aelin ran her hands over his back slowly, and just held him as pain he’d felt for eight years seemed to reach a crest.
Eventually he stopped crying and just laid against her, warm breath fanning across her collarbone.
“I’m so sorry, Aelin,” he whispered yet again.
“Please stop saying that. None of this is your fault. You aren’t the reason I’m in prison.”
“Yes, I am,” he insisted, shifting beneath her. “But I’m getting you out right now.”
He looked up, eyes bright with new-found purpose, and wiped the tears off his cheeks like they were distracting him.
“What?”
He nodded quickly. “We can bring those people back, and you can get your life back. I know it’s not the same, and I know I can’t get you these years back, but-”
“No.”
He paused. “No?”
She shook her head. “I can’t leave yet.”
“Leave? What the helldoes that mean?”
“It means I still have shit to do here. I’m not leaving before it’s done.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re acting like this is a hotel, not a high-security prison. And what do you even mean?”
Aelin had the good sense to feel a little guilty as she slowly got to her feet and walked to the wall at the back of the cell. A few well-placed taps later, it swung open.
Rowan’s mouth dropped open, then closed, then repeated the whole routine like he couldn’t decide what to say first.
He apparently figured it out, because it opened again so he accuse, “I knew you were robbing me! Where the fuck is my bed?”
She sighed and rubbed her temples. “That’s what you care about right now? Seriously?”
He grumbled something as he got to his feet and leaned into the makeshift doorway in the wall.
It took him a few moments to examine the ladder leading down to the tunnel, and then he straightened and looked at her again with a mixture of confusion, awe, and understanding on his face.
“You’ve been sneaking out this whole time.”
She nodded.
Most of her escapes had been in the past six months, but she’d occasionally left in the years before to check on something or track down a lead.
“You beat up your roommate so they’d put you back in solitary.”
Aelin nodded again.
“But how did you know they’d bring you to this cell?”
A small smile pulled on her lips. “Look again,” she told him, gesturing towards the open brick door.
He stuck his head in the hole again and couldn’t stifle his surprised intake of breath as he saw the other ladders.
He came back in the cell, and the expression on his face made her bite her lip to hold back a smile. “You… you tunneled intoprison?”
“Into every solitary cell,” she confirmed.
“When? Why?”
“One of my old jobs for Arobynn was to break a client of his out of solitary. I knew which cell he was in, but… getting locked up is kind of a right of passage for my former career, so I figured I’d plan ahead and give myself a way out, should I ever need it.” She smiled. “Hamel never could figure out how I did it, so it’s safe for me to use now.”
Rowan spent a long moment looking at her. “That’s… genius.”
“I tend to be,” she agreed.
They were both silent for a minute, then he said, “You need to tell me everything. Enough of both of us wasting time assuming what the other is thinking. We need to get everything out in the open, and we need to do it now.”
Aelin nodded, knowing it was true.
It was time to either finally trust him or kill him, and just the thought of the latter made something inside of her twist so hard she felt nauseous.
She nodded to the tunnel, not wanting to have the following conversation overheard by any prying ears. He nodded and followed her down, closing the door behind him.
When she knew they were alone, she started to explain.
“Maddison Kliff, my first so-called victim, funded her campaign for senator with money from Arobynn Hamel.”
Rowan’s eyebrows went up in surprise, but he nodded for her continue.
“He gave it to her, with the caveat that when she won, she’d vote against renewable energy for Rifthold. He has millions in oil, so when she did the exact opposite and voted for the green plan that switched the city to 70% electric, he took a pretty hard hit.” She took a deep breath. “The day after the vote, I got my orders to kill her.”
His jaw clenched.
“I went that night, thinking I could do it. Thinking I’d get it over with and never think about it again. I snuck in her townhouse and had everything set up.” She let out a laugh. “But then I realized my deal with Arobynn covered tenof Sam’s jobs. If I killed Maddison, and did a good enough job of it to get away with it, I knew he’d put nine more names on the list.”
“So you didn’t do it,” Rowan said, like he already knew but needed to hear her say it.
“So I didn’t do it.”
Aelin ran a hand through her hair, starting to pace. “I ran. And then I went back the next night with a suitcase, a new ID for her, and a plan.”
“Why Aruba?” he asked.
“I’d done all that research for our trip,” she said, a pang of sadness shooting through her at the memory of planning their first vacation together. “I didn’t have time to research another place. And I never told you, but the house I wanted us to rent? You kind of… own it.”
“I own a house in Aruba,” he repeated slowly, his tone making it clear he didn’t understand.
She rolled her eyes at his tone. “Arobynn might be a bastard I’d love to put in a grave, but he paid me well. I was eighteen and didn’t know what else to do with the money. So I bought a house.”
“In Aruba. In my name.”
She nodded. “No one can trace it back to you. It’s hidden in an off-shore corporation, owed by another off-shore corporation, but technically, yes, you’re the owner. It was going to be your Christmas present.”
“You bought me a house,” his lips twitched. “For a Christmas present.”
“I was in love with you,” she muttered. Then pointed out, “My lack of shopping impulse control really isn’t the point of the story.”
He rolled his eyes, still fighting a grin at her antics. “Please continue.”
“Right. So I sent her to the house in Aruba and told her to stay at the house with anyone else he wanted me to kill. I told her to not say a word to anyone besides those people, and that I’d be forced to actually kill her if she did. If Arobynn finds out they’re alive, he’ll send someone for me.”
She explained the list next. “He requires proof of all completed jobs, so I kept the "murder weapons” and made sure the crime scenes had enough blood to indicate the person couldn’t still be alive. It was mostly fake, but I took just enough blood from each of the victims and mixed it in to make it realistic enough to fool DNA scanners. Then I put the weapons in storage lockers he owns and wrote the numbers down so I wouldn’t forget them.“
Rowan nodded, most certainly remembering that part.
He was doing a good job of hiding his emotions, but she still saw how heavily this all weighed on him.
Everything he’d been feeling for eight years was hitting him at once, and while explanation made sense, it probably didn’t make him feel any better about the role he’d played in all of this.
He confirmed it by asking, "Why didn’t you tell me?”
He asked it almost casually, but she didn’t miss the pain he couldn’t keep from seeping into his voice.
“I wanted to,” she breathed. “Gods, I wanted to. I know now you investigated before giving the list to the cops, but to me, it looked like you found it and just turned me in. You never asked me. And you looked at me… you looked at me like you thought I was guilty. I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”
Rowan went quiet, regret and shame coming off of him in waves so thick she almost choked on it.
“How is all of this going to play out?” he asked, seemingly trying to force himself to think about something else. “And what do you have to do that you need to be in prison for?”
She hesitated, suddenly not wanting to tell him.
Not out of a lack of trust, but because if she told him… he’d realize she’s guilty of the crime she’s in prison for. He might go back to hating her, back to thinking her a horrible person.
And she just got him back.
She’s pulled from her thoughts when he reaches a hand out, slowly gripping her jaw to tilt her face to his.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, the words final.
Of course he knew what she was thinking just from looking at her face. He always was a little too astute.
A part of Aelin wanted to put on a brave face and act like that wasn’t exactly what she’d been worrying about, but a bigger part wanted him.Wanted him to see that even after all this time, she needed him.
So she forced down the witty jokes and sultry smiles she usually used as ways to hide her vulnerability and looked up at him.
“Promise?”
He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “I promise, Aelin.”
His hand was still on her face, and he leaned in until his forehead rested against hers. “I’m never going to leave you again. I’m so… I’m so fucking sorry I did in the first place. I should’ve come to you, or at least listened when you told me you were innocent.”
“I’m sorry I thought you didn’t fight for me,” she said back. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
They’d both done things they regretted, but Aelin knew that now, no matter what, he was telling the truth. He wasn’t going to leave her.
The knowledge felt like a weight lifting off her shoulders, and just to lighten the mood, she whispered, “And I’m sorry I stole your bed.”
He pulled back to glare at her. “You’re going to explain one day how you even pulled that off. But I’d like the answer to my other question first.”
Aelin took a step back and ran a hand through her hair.
“Arobynn Hamel dying is the endgame, Rowan. I have to stay in prison so I can kill him and have an alibi no one will question.”
He paused, and for a moment, her fears skyrocketed, so she rushed to explain, “As long as he’s alive, those people have to be in hiding and I have to look like I killed them. Once he’s dead, I can bring them back without worrying Arobynn will kill them. Or me.”
He gave her a strange look, but she spoke before he could, explaining, “It’s why I’ve been in prison for so long. I would’ve killed him and ended it years ago, but I only found him a couple months ago. He’s been in hiding ever since I was locked up, because the FBI knew I was one of his and started looking for him.”
“Okay, but Aelin-”
She cut him off. “I know it’s insane and not at all ideal, but I need you to leave me in here. Just until he’s dead, and then it’s over.”
He stepped forward and grabs her shoulders, shaking her slightly.
And then he did the weirdest thing.
Hesmiled.
“What the hell do you look happyabout?” she demanded. “I’m being serious-”
It was his turn to interrupt her. “Aelin, if that’s the stipulation, you’re already free.”
Unease drifted through her stomach. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s already dead.”
Shock rushed through her so fast and thoroughly, her vision swam and she swayed in his grip. “What… what did you just say?”
“That’s why I came today, now. I actually figured out you were innocent two days ago, but I wasn’t going to come until I could tell you with certainty I was getting you out, and I knew you couldn’t bring everyone back without risking your life. I’ve spent the past 48 hours planning a jailbreak and a way to sneak you to somewhere the US doesn’t have extradition.”
He grinned again. “But then it was announced on the 11 o'clock news tonight that he died last week of pneumonia complications. His family kept it private because they wanted a small funeral, but he’s dead, Aelin.”
Still feeling the weight of shock, she argued, “He’s not dead.”
“But he is.”
“No,” she insisted, pushing away from him and starting to pace again. “He can’t be dead.”
His face softened at the panic in her voice. “Aelin, I know you wanted it to be you, but-”
“No, Rowan, you don’t understand. I mean he cannot physically be dead, because I haven’t finished killing him!”
It was his turn to be shocked.
“What do you mean you haven’t finished killing him?”
She took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. “I’ve been poisoning him since the day I figured out where he holes up. Turns out he has kidney problems and goes in once a week for dialysis. I show up and add a little… extra to his medication. The last time I went was less than a week ago, and while he might have been sick, he most definitely was still alive.”
Besides that, what were the odds that Rowan figured out her “victims” were still alive, and just two days later Arobynn croaks?
It would be one hell of a coincidence, and Aelin learned long ago to not believe in those.
His eyes went wide. “What? You mean he faked his death? Why the hell would he do that?”
“Because,” she said slowly, dread forming like a lead ball in her stomach as she realized what this meant for her, for the ten people whose lives she’d traded her freedom for. “I told Maddison and the others to wait for news of his death before coming back. I told them that until he was dead, they weren’t safe.”
She shook her head, whispering, “I told them to watch the news.”
Rowan realized what she was saying and cursed.
“He knows.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
Lemme know in the comments if you want to be tagged!
Part 5 will (realistically) be out in the next three weeks. Sorry for the slow updates; school is consuming all my time and energy.
There was something decidedly pleasant about sneaking out of prison.
It was the thrill, she supposed.
She’d always been a bit of an adrenaline junky, and there was nothing that matched up to the excitement of breaking out of a maximum security prison with no one being the wiser.
Aelin ran through the tunnel, her steps sure and soundless, a smile blooming on her face. What she was doing shouldn’t give her such joy, but along with being a thrill seeker, she’d always been just a little bit vindictive.
Or maybe a lot.
The map of the tunnels was still crystal clear after all this time, and she had it memorized down to the number of steps it took to get to the right turn.
It was a three hour run. Two underground, then one through the city out into the suburbs.
While the first two hours were definitely not fun, it was the last hour that was tricky.
Avoiding cameras, not drawing any unwanted attention, dressing so no one could see her face without looking too much like the criminal she was.
It was also more exhausting.
It was an hour of sprinting across rooftops, sprinting through town, then sprinting some more.
It was a little funny to her that the journey to where she needed to go was more difficult than actually breaking into the building.
She had a set of scrubs stored in a nearby lockbox, along with a wig and a few prosthetics to make her look more like Ansel, one of the nurses working the night shift.
The security guard, Shelly, was prone to reading romance novels during her shift and never questioned why she occasionally thought she saw two of the same person wandering around.
It was no different tonight.
Once she had everything in place, Aelin strode confidently through the halls, grabbing charts and nodding like she knew what the hell she was looking at.
No one stopped her, no one questioned her.
When she got to the room and chart she wanted, she slipped inside soundlessly and crept up to the bed.
Despite the ever-present urge to hurry things along, she stuck to her plan and kept the dose the same.
The person on the bed never woke up, never noticed her slip an extra drug into the IV bag hanging on the wall.
Silent, efficient, traceless.
Just like she’d been taught.
Leaving was even easier than entering.
She waited until real-Ansel had been out of the guard’s sight for a while, then walked out the back door of the facility like she hadn’t just committed a felony.
One of the few crimes she actually deserved to be in prison for, ironically.
Then she ran back, hiding in the traffic camera’s blind spots and ditching the wig along the way.
It was a little stupid and drawn out to do it this way, not to mention unbelievably cruel, but Aelin had always had a flair for the dramatic.
Plus, like she said: exciting.
~Rowan~
Doubt is a strange emotion.
It starts small, so small you hardly even realize it’s there.
And then, over time, it grows and grows like a fungus, eventually becoming something that you think about all the time. Something that kills you.
Rowan didn’t believe in doubt.
His problem had never been with not believing in himself, it’d always been with the opposite affliction: over-conviction.
He believed things so fully, so deeply, it was hard to see it any other way.
It was what made him such a good lawyer. As the top public prosecutor in the city, he had a reputation for being impossible to win against.
He convinced himself of the defendant’s guilt so completely, the jury had almost no option but to believe him.
He hadn’t always been that way, he didn’t think. Argumentative and stubborn, sure. His mother could attest to that. But never so unflinchingly self-assured. So alright with deceiving himself if need be.
If he had to guess, he’d say it’d started two months after the day of Aelin’s trial.
He hadn’t been lying to her four days ago; every word had been the truth. He’d worked his ass off all those years ago, trying to find something that would help him either clear her name or at least fucking sleep at night.
He’d given himself a timeline, deciding that if he couldn’t find a single lead in two months, there probably wasn’t one. Two months, and then he’d let it go.
He didn’t regret stopping his hunt–he’d seen what an obsession could do to someone.
And when that day had come, he’d thought he was ready. He’d exhausted himself working both her case and the ones he was assigned, burning the candle at both ends and sleeping in the office more nights than his own bed.
There’d been nothing to be found. The evidence, the testimonies, the medical examiner’s reports… they’d all pointed to Aelin.
So eventually he’d forced himself to stop looking.
But the sight of her swinging between the two court police officers, fighting for just one more second with him with a desperation he’d never seen from her… he hadn’t known how he could just forget something like that.
The image followed him, haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw hers. Lined with tears and disbelief and so much hurt he felt like invisible hands were wrapped around his neck.
So he’d hardened himself against it.
He’d repeated the pieces of evidence against her, told himself she was guilty until the words were easy to say, forced himself to visualize the crime scenes of her victims whenever he thought of her.
Piece by piece, he’d swapped out the months of positive memories they had with stone cold facts.
And it had worked.
After a month, he could sleep again. After a year, he hardly thought of her and when he did, it was with disgust.
Yet now, over eight years later, he found himself with just the slightest amount of doubt again.
It was the same nagging, incessant feeling he hadn’t been able to shake eight years ago. Back for round two, apparently.
At first, he’d played it off as nerves from their conversation. She’d worked him up so much he’d admitted how much he’d once loved her and said things he shouldn’t have.
His body was reacting to the sadness in her eyes, the surprise that had bloomed when he’d told her he’d fought for her. It was emotion, nothing based in logic, that made him want to start looking again.
At least that’s what he told himself.
But four days later, he found himself on the couch–he really did need to give up and just buy a new bed–staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep and not being able to.
Because… well because what if she was telling the truth?
Why else would she have told him that story?
What had he missed during all those late nights spent hunched over her folder?
The questions grew and grew, until that once-little shard of doubt started to slowly drive him mad.
The uncertainty, no matter how small it had begun, had grown to be almost irritatingly large and unavoidable.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said. The breadcrumbs that apparently only hecould find.
What did that mean?
And why couldn’t he just let it go?
“Fuck!” he yelled, throwing his blanket off and storming to the closet.
Like a love-struck idiot, he’d kept a box full of the stuff she’d left at his apartment during their relationship. The stuff that wasn’t evidence, at least.
If it was something only he could find like she’d said, it was probably something only he had access to.
He dropped the box on his kitchen table and opened the lid.
Then cursed when the first thing he saw was a pair of red lace underwear. That was the lastthing he needed to be thinking about and remembering.
Especially when he’d barely been able to resist the temptation to kiss her in that interrogation room.
Something about the way she’d looked at him after he’d told her he’d fought for her all those years ago had rattled the grip he had on his control hard.
She’d seemed so… sad. So hopeless. It had brought out the urge to comfort her in whatever way he could.
Hearing about her childhood and how she’d been raised by Arobynn Hamel hadn’t made it any better. Truthfully, it’d broken something inside of him.
She’d always been so positive around him–a ray of light he’d felt was put on this earth just for him.
And all the while, she’d been forced to live with and work for one of the most notorious crime syndicate members of all time.
He’d always known she hadn’t had a good childhood, but there was a difference between foster care hell and an actual house of horrors. Rowan couldn’t even imagine the things she’d seen. Been forced to see, to do.
She made it out, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath.
But had she?
If what she’d told him was true, she’d killed those people because she’d been forced to.
It hadn’t been her choice.
But there was something else about her, something he couldn’t stop thinking about.
The secret she’d eluded to, the one that apparently only he had the key to solving.
A secret she’d promised would explain everything.
He tossed the underwear on the table, vowing to ignore them.
Then threw them in the trash a minute later when that became impossible.
You’re such an asshole, he told himself, shaking his head. It’s been eight years.
Even if thatpart of their relationship was most definitely memorable.
“Jesus,” he laughed, running a hand over his face. Why was he even thinking about that?
Maybe it was the look in her eyes four days ago, or maybe it was simply that Aelin had been an important part of his life. He’d never forget the connection they’d had. Maybe it would always be a part of him.
But that was ridiculous, because he’d been connectedto plenty of women since. Plenty of gorgeous brunettes and redheads.
For some reason, he hadn’t been able to date a blonde, but that didn’t mean anything.
He was over her.
Obviously.
Forcing his thoughts away from Aelin, he grabbed the next thing in the box.
Her address book. Maybe she’d left a note in there?
He flipped it open, scrolling through blank page after blank page. Her cousin’s address and phone number were there–both of which he confirmed with police records–but other than that, it was blank.
The next thing he found made the ache in his chest expand to a soul-sucking hole.
It was a travel brochure for Aruba.
The edges were frayed from how much she’d flipped through it, and notes in her handwriting were scribbled throughout the pages.
He remembered this, all right.
He’d woken up one morning, a morning that seemed like a lifetime ago, to find her laying on top of him, leafing through the travel pamphlet with a huge grin on her face.
“We’re going to Aruba,” she’d whispered in lieu of a greeting, leaning down to press her lips to his.
“Why?” he’d asked back between kisses.
“Because it’s the perfect place to hide from your real life,” had been her laughed response.
She’d planned a trip for them at Christmas. Their very first trip together.
Every time they saw each other, she’d shown him a new page or told him about a new activity she wanted to do.
In general, she was a happy, excited person, but he’d never seen her so thrilled over anything like she was that trip.
He’d hidden it better, trying to play it cool, but he’dbeen excited, too.
He’d pictured her on the beach, running in the sand and smiling and laughing and drinking from a coconut. He’d imagined sneaking to the beach one night and making love to her in the ocean.
He’d imagined getting down on one knee and asking her to be his travel partner for life.
She’d been arrested two weeks before they were supposed to leave.
He tossed the little magazine back into the box, shaking his head to clear it of the memories and long-lost dreams.
The only thing left in the worn box was books.
Aelin had volunteered at a publishing house, trying to get hired as a fiction editor, and she’d always had a book in her ridiculously heavy pocket book.
She’d given him a few of her favorites, claiming that if he ever wanted to know the “real her,” he had to read them.
A statement that made a lot more sense now than it used to.
He grabbed the one on top and leafed through it, going through the pages and scanning.
When that didn’t yield anything, he flipped to the back of the book and looked at the inscription she’d written him.
March 1
Rowan,
I know you’re not a fan of fiction, let alone romantic, feminist fiction, but I hope you’ll read this and fall in love with Elizabeth’s character like I did.
Aelin
He turned the book over and looked at the front again, then flipped through it again, then went through the whole process again.
Why did he feel like something about this didn’t add up? And why was this,of all things, what she’d left as a breadcrumb?
He didn’t figure it out until he reread the inscription for the fifth time and realized the date she’d written.
March 1st.
It was wrong; she’d given him this book on his birthday in February. He remembered because he’d laughed about her giving a grown man a romance novel for his birthday.
Why had she put March 1st? And why did that date stand out in his mind?
Stomach dropping, he finally figured out why that date was so important. It was the date of the first murder.
Maddison Kliff, a state senator who controversially wanted to fund renewable energy in the upcoming year, had been murdered the morning of March 1st eight years ago.
Breadcrumb.
He grabbed the next book from the stack, Wuthering Heights, and flipped to the end.
Almost the exact same inscription, except the date was April 13th, and the inspiring character was Linton Heathcliff.
April 13th was the day another victim died.
Rowan’s heart started pounding, so hard he thought he was going to either pass out or go into cardiac arrest.
What was the connection between these dates, characters, and victims? Rowan could feel it in his gut that this was what she’d been talking about. It had to be.
He flipped through the books again, looking for something else, but there was nothing there. Nothing was underlined or highlighted, and the books were all in brand-new condition, no pages were bookmarked.
“What are you trying to tell me, Aelin?” he whispered, rubbing at his temples.
He made a list of all the dates and characters, stared at it until he thought he’d go blind, and tried to think like her.
Except her mind was a complex puzzle he’d never quite solved, so that didn’t give him anything besides a headache.
He looked in the box again, hoping to magically find another note or something that explained everything in simple, idiot-proof terms.
But all that was there was that damn Aruba magazine.
It’s the perfect place to hide from your real life.
The words came rushing back to him, so suddenly and violently it was like his subconscious had been shouting it for a while.
Was that it?
Maybe the connection wasn’t only between the dates and characters, but it also had something to do with Aruba.
Maybe that was where this secret, whatever it was, was hiding.
Knowing he was probably grasping at straws, Rowan grabbed his phone and called the one person who’d help him.
“What the hell do you want?”
“I need a favor, Gavriel.”
He heard a heavy sigh. “Like a we’ve been friends for twenty years favor or like an I’m the Chief of Police favor?”
“The latter,” Rowan answered.
“Dammit, Rowan, you’re going to get me fired one day.” That was what he said every time. There was a long pause, then, “What do you need?”
“Flight manifests from Rifthold to Aruba from ten different days eight years ago.”
Gavriel caught on quickly. “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a former flame of yours, would it? One currently serving time for ten murders from eight years ago?”
“Of course not,” he lied, knowing he was busted.
Another sigh. “You need to let this go, kid.”
Rowan ran a hand over his face, knowing that wasn’t possible. Not when, for the first time since he’d been assigned this God forbidden case, he had a lead.
“Can you help me or not?”
“I will, as long as you promise to drop it once whatever you’re chasing ends up to be yet another dead end.”
Knowing he didn’t have another choice, Rowan agreed.
Gavriel told him he’d send them over, then said softly, “I know you loved her, Rowan, but it’s time to move on.”
It’s not that easy, he thought, thinking once again of Aelin sitting in that tiny cell, skin pale and hair too long.
“Thanks for your help,” he said instead, hanging up before the lecture could continue.
A few minutes later, he was printing out the passenger lists from all the Rifthold to Aruba flights on each of the ten dates.
Starting with August 1st, he went through, passenger by passenger, and looked for an Elizabeth.
There’d been three direct flights to Aruba that day, so by the time he found it, his eyes were so tired he almost missed it entirely.
But there was a name that stuck out, one that was straight out of his copy of Pride and Prejudice.
Seat 14C had been occupied by Elizabeth Darcy, and she’d flown directly from Rifthold to Aruba on August 1st.
Rowan’s jaw damn near hit the floor.
His hands shook as he highlighted the name, writing the victim’s name next to it to keep it straight in his head.
His mind whirled with possible explanations, but he didn’t let himself think about anything except the next date.
With a sinking feeling in his gut, he went through the passenger list for April 13th.
And sure enough, Linton Heathcliff was on one of the flights. In the same damn seat.
“Holy fuck,” he whispered, grabbing the next sheet of paper.
He went date by date, flight by flight, and by the time he’d located every character, he was sure of what he’d found. What she’d left for him.
It wasn’t a breadcrumb,it was the whole goddamn loaf.
Rowan barely made it to the kitchen sink before his stomach emptied as an explanation of what had really happened eight years ago started to form in his mind.
He didn’t have all the pieces, but the ones he did have made him literally sick to think about.
Her insistence on being innocent, her begging him to look again, telling him only he could find the clues… it all made sense.
The doubt he’d been struggling with for eight long years suddenly disappeared, replaced by a certainty so swift and thorough and all encompassing, it almost took his breath away.
She hadn’t been lying.
She hadn’t killed those ten people.
She couldn’t have, because…
“They’re still alive.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
dun dun duuuuun
part 4 out next Friday (sorry for the slow updates I’m in summer school)
Synopsis: Aelin Galathynius never thought of herself as a vengeful woman. Until her boyfriend not only testifies, but leads a case against her that lands her in prison for the rest of her life. Post I-Love-You’s. He didn’t believe her, and she’s about to show him that not only is she innocent, he made the worst mistake of his life betting against her. To a woman with nothing but time, life’s just a game, after all.
The cinderblock wall dug into her back uncomfortably as she reclined against it, the air in the room was stale, and she hadn’t showered in two days. By any measurement, Aelin Galathynius was far from her best.
And yet she somehow managed to look perfectly at ease–happy even–as she lounged in her cell, toying with the ends of her too-long hair.
It was a ruse, of course, just a little trick to piss off the man currently stomping into her space. By the flare of Rowan Whitehorn’s eyes, it worked.
“Hello, Rowan,” she greeted pleasantly, giving him a little smile and acting like it wasn’t taking everything in her not to use the makeshift knife under her pillow to gut him like the spineless coward he was.
She could tell, even across her 8x12 cell, that he was gritting his teeth and fighting a similar action.
The heel of his expensive Italian loafers clicked as he walked across the space to the small table and took a seat at the steel chair in front of it. He tried to push it out further, but stopped when he realized it was bolted to the floor.
“Aelin,” he said back, none of the so-obvious anger he was feeling present in his voice. “Been a long time.”
Eight years, six months, three weeks, two days, and thirteen hours.
Not that she was counting or anything.
She nodded her agreement, reclining further on the bed and crossing her legs as if she was in the finest dress she owned, not a faded orange jumpsuit.
“What brings you to my side of town, Rowan? Here to finally switch sides and represent me?”
Dressed in a two-thousand dollar suit and tie, hair perfectly gelled back, he looked like he was successful a lawyer meeting with a wealthy client, but they both knew the last thing he’d ever do was work for her.
“You know why I’m here.”
She did indeed, but she still said, “I must be exceptionally smart to know why you’ve come all the way here-”
“Cut the shit,” he snapped, finally losing a bit of his cool. He regained it quickly, though, and continued, “I want to know how you did it.”
She frowned at her split ends. “Did what?”
Rowan waited until she looked at him to respond. “You know what.”
Sighing so deeply it should’ve rattled the walls, she said, “I can’t believe I’ve spent the last eight years thinking you underestimated my intelligence. You clearly think I’m some sort of oracle genius.”
Rowan mimicked her sigh, and she bit her lip to stifle a laugh.
Probably trying to stall, he spent a moment looking at her cell, at the completely bare walls and lack of photographs. All she had was the tally marks drawn in pencil on one wall and a dusty chess set sitting on the table.
When he’d taken inventory of those two things, he sat and just looked at her.
It was clear she wouldn’t admit to knowing exactly why he sat in front of her, and he was simply putting off being the one to fold.
Predictable, proud little man.
Eventually, he took his loss and said, “I want to know how you managed to rob me from inside the most secure prison in Rifthold.”
She smiled, a full, undulated smile she hadn’t used in a long time.
She’d been planning this moment since the day the bars had locked behind her, and it felt damn good to finally see it come to fruition.
According to what she’d heard, definitely not what she knew from personal experience, the private vault in Rowan’s apartment had been broken into. Apparently, only one thing was missing: an antique dagger that had been handed down in the family and was now worth over a million bucks.
“Why do you think it was me?” she asked, still smiling.
He gritted his teeth some more, and she internally snickered at the idea he’d have permanent tooth damage because of her. Something else to remember her by.
Green eyes spitting flames at her, he growled, “You left a goddamn business card.”
Aelin forced her eyes up to the empty bed above her head, trying her hardest not to laugh. “Maybe I’m being framed?”
“Your fingerprints were on it.”
She did laugh then, then laughed some more when his eyes narrowed. He looked like he was about to strangle her. “Rowan, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m incarcerated.”
She gestured around them to her cell to prove her point.
The bastard just smiled.
Of course he knows that, she thought bitterly, forcing her hand back to her lap and away from where it’d started to creep toward the pillow.
“So how would I rob you?” she asked, getting her mind back on track.
“That’s what you’re going to tell me,” he demanded angrily. “I want to know how you got out of here, got all the way across Rifthold, broke into my apartment, and stole from me without any surveillance camera picking it up.”
Aelin ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it just right. When she caught sight of the impatience on his face, she fluffed it some more and readjusted the thin jacket on her shoulders.
It was always too damn cold in this place. She hadn’t been warm in almost nine years.
Because of him.
Just for that, she fluffed her hair some more.
Then she said simply, “I didn’t.”
“Stop lying!” he shouted at her, eyes flashing.
She wasn’t, but that was besides the point.
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes like he’d won. “I got my cousin to-”
“Aedion spent the night in Wendlyn. His travel is verified, and there are at least a hundred eye witnesses that witnessed him singing karaoke all night. Stop. Fucking. Lying.”
Once again, she wasn’t lying.
Aedion sure as hell hadn’t been in Wendlyn last night. She’d just wanted to make sure his alibi was air-tight as planned.
Sighing again, she asked, “Rowan, even if I did do it, why the hell would I tell you about it?”
His jaw worked for a moment, and she could tell whatever he was about to say was difficult for him. “I’ll get time off your sentence if you tell me what you’ve done with it.”
She tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help it.
It burst out of her, full and uncontrollable, and she flopped over on the dirty mattress and howled for a good few minutes.
He glared at her, looking for all the world like he was experiencing a portion of the rage she was made of, but regardless of the threat in his eyes, she took her time composing herself.
“I’m serving ten consecutive life sentences, you idiot.”
One for each and every one of her “victims.”
“I’ll make it nine,” he offered generously.
“Even if I was a cat, that’d still leave me dying in a prison cell. Offer me something else.”
He just glared at her, unwilling to give her anything she could actually use or want. Just like she’d expected.
“That’s what I thought. So no, Rowan Whitehorn, I’m not accepting your little deal. You can think I robbed you all you want; hell, you can even know, in your famous gut, that I did it.” She tilted her head, a cruel smile filling her lips. “But it isn’t about what you believe, it’s about what you can prove. Isn’t that right?”
His eyes shuttered at the words, and just like that, they were sucked into the memory of all those years ago.
~Eight years ago~
~Rowan~
Rowan rolled over, edging away from the woman next to him carefully as to not wake her.
Her hair was spread out on his chest, her soft hand was on his stomach, and her leg was draped over his. By all accounts, she was all over him.
And it felt so fuckinggood.
He’d never met anyone like Aelin before. Anyone so full of life, so hilariously open.
It was like she was constantly on fire, flitting from one place to the next with endless energy and jabs about him being too old and slow.
“What are you going?” she murmured, nails digging in slightly to keep him where he was.
“To get some water. Go back to sleep.”
He leaned down and kissed her brow, and she sighed happily and rolled over. Like a total cliché, he watched her sleep for a moment, trying to get his feelings under control.
They’d been seeing each other for less than a year, but he couldn’t imagine his life without her. He was in love with her, and if the way she acted and smiled around him was any indication, she loved him, too.
He ran a thumb over her cheekbone, smiling when she tilted her face into his touch.
He was whipped, and he didn’t even care.
Rowan shook his head at himself, pulled on a pair of boxers, padded to the kitchen, and held a glass under the faucet.
Then frowned as it sputtered.
He figured he’d at least make himself useful, knowing damn well she would never agree to call the plumber when she could “figure out how to fix it herself on Youtube.”
So he knelt down in her kitchen and opened the cabinet door, trying to see what the problem with the pipe was.
Except he never got that far.
His eyes got stuck on the piece of paper sticking out under a false piece of wood covering the back panel.
Knowing it was wrong to pry but somehow unable to stop himself, he tugged the paper loose.
Then fell backwards to his ass, heart hammering and brain spinning as he read it over and over again.
The list of names wasn’t long, but all ten of the people on it were highly distinguished members of society.
And they were all dead.
He wouldn’t know that, since the death of the last person on the list wasn’t even public record yet, but he was the attorney working with the police to find the killer.
Why did she have this list?
And what did the numbers next to the names mean?
One way or another, he knew he had to find out. He also knew he couldn’t ask her. He was in too deep, too unbiased to know whether or not she was lying.
He didn’t trust himself with her, so he’d have to go the traditional route.
He took a picture of the paper quickly, tucking it back where he’d found it. He snuck back in the room to get dressed, leaving her a note he had to go to work.
He thought he was going to be sick as he left her apartment, a feeling suspiciously similar to dread coiling in his stomach.
There was only one way she could know that last name, only one explanation that made sense.
But he hadto know for sure. Had to know if he’d been an idiot this past year; an idiot who’d spent almost every night sleeping next to the killer he’d been searching for.
So he started investigating his girlfriend.
Six days later, he found the security deposit boxes and the murder weapons inside, still covered in dried blood that would be matched to the victims. All with Aelin’s prints on them.
Two days after that, the woman he’d thought was the love of his life was arrested on ten counts of murder.
Despite the tears she shed, despite the promises she made to him, despite the love she claimed to have for him, Rowan told the cops everything.
Even though he couldn’t imagine her killing anyone.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe, it matters what I can prove.”
That was the last thing he’d said to her, right as she was being dragged out of the court room and yelling at him to believe her.
The truth of the matter was that when it came down to it, he didn’t trust her enough. The facts were against her, everyone on the jury had been against her, and in the end, Rowan was too.
~Present~
~Aelin~
Rowan shook his head, almost like he needed to clear it from the memory they’d obviously both been immersed in, and she smiled.
She hoped what happened all those years ago still haunted him, hoped he went to sleep at night thinking about her and the betrayal he’d served to her on a silver platter.
The first year of her sentence, she was so lost in emotion–in the rage and confusion and deep, deep hurt–that she couldn’t bring herself to do anything.
He hadn’t even bothered to ask her first. That’s what had hurt the worst.
He’d seen that stupid, stupid list and had jumped to the first conclusion possible.
She knew it had looked bad, had looked like she was guilty, but she’d thought that if the worst happened, he’d at least ask her to explain before slapping the cuffs on her.
But he hadn’t. She’d gone to prison, and his career had exploded into stardom from the success of the case.
“See, Rowan, when you refused to accept any other explanation other than the easy one, you made a mistake. Because I didn’t kill those people.”
He rolled his eyes. “Aelin-”
“And I’m not only going to prove it,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “I’m going to ruin your precious little life while I do it. Just like you did mine.”
She stood, put a hand on the steel table, and leaned over him.
“If you want it to stop, all you have to do is drop these bullshit murder charges and issue a public apology for locking me up in the first place.”
He stood too, so close his loafers brushed the toe of her dusty, prison issued sneakers.
“That’s never going to happen,” he promised, voice uncompromising and angry.
Aelin smiled, having predicted his reaction down to the facial expression.
His pride, she’d decided, would be the first thing to go.
She reached around him to slide the pawn on the chess board forward, leaned in even further, and whispered, “Let the game begin, then.”
A new sketch featuring a scene from Kingdom of Ash where Aelin and Rowan take a quiet moment during their cave treasure pilfering to exchange rings! This was voted on by my Patreons for the August Sketch-a-Wish!
Real question though what do you think Dorian and Chaol’s “final” conversation before he and Aelin did the whole Lock ceremony in KoA was about??? Like Aelin couldn’t hear them and I’m nosy
Okay so I just wanted to show y’all who I imagine Aelin as , once I found her she was literally the perfect person to use! Her eyes are naturally Blue/green and is stunning
As much as I love how the mating bond snaps in for couples .. SJM has to stop making everyone mates. It Just defeats the purpose of it being RARE and special. It should be something that surprises everyone, but it Just feels like everyone has one-
Okay so I need Sarah to start writing about the next generation- And a crossovers Cause I need Nyx and Aelin and Rowans daughter to be the most POWERFUL COUPLE to exist. Thank you.
