Chapter Text
Part I
There were about a million other things Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle would rather be doing than taking five months out of his life and training a spoiled eight year-old princess in magic.
He supposed five months really wasn't that long in the lifespan of an immortal but five months every year for ten years until the princess reached maturity would be… tedious to say the least. But, his queen commanded it and he could not refuse.
The bad blood and distrust between Queen Maeve of Doranelle and the Galathynius’ had been well known through the lands for centuries. No one really knew what caused it, but Rowan had heard stories here and there, most of which were utter nonsense and faerie tales. But, the tension was there and that was undeniable. Which was why he was heading to Terrasen, the stronghold of the Galathynius line.
When Evalin Ashryver Galathynius had given the kingdom of Terrasen an heir, Rowan's queen was instantly intrigued. The mixing of the Ashryver and Galathynius bloodlines had a promise of power, and his queen wished to know just what manner of power the young princess held. She had been sending correspondence to Terrasen since the birth of the princess, trying to convince Evalin to bring her child back to her homelands of Wendlyn, but every time, she refused.
Until recently.
Something made Evalin and her husband Rhoe change their minds, but only partially. A compromise was reached. The princess wouldn't travel to Doranelle to train. Rather, they requested that Maeve send someone of her choosing to train the girl until she was mature and had a handle on her powers.
Maeve chose Rowan. He wasn't quite sure why. Yes, he tended to be easier to work with than Lorcan, but he wasn't a kind or patient teacher. Rowan figured she would have sent Gavriel, who had infinite patience, or maybe even Fenrys, who, although annoying at times, was the kindest among them all. Either of them would have been a more obvious choice to send to train a child.
But, his queen requested that it be him. And one did not question Queen Maeve's orders.
Which was why he was riding up to the towering stone fortress of Orynth. His keen eyes could make out countless sentries posted along the walls, a small cabal of what were most likely well-trained guards surrounding the royal family, ready to greet him.
Rowan, despite his centuries of travel, had never been to this continent before, let alone Terrasen. He found the vast mountain passes capped with snow and the sprawling tangle of the Oakwald to be… pleasant, he supposed. The air was crisp and cool, so much cooler than Doranelle. There were worse places to spend months of one's life.
Rowan slowed his horse down as he reached the congregation. He quickly recognized Orlon, King of Terrasen. He gave off the air of a once mighty man. He had managed to keep some of his physique despite his aging. Atop of his steadily graying hair was the antler crown.
Beside King Orlon was Prince Rhoe and his wife, Evalin. Rhoe was tall and strongly built, deep brown hair and eyes that watched him warily. Around his stern mouth was a well-kept beard, which appeared to have a few streaks of white in it already.
Evalin was lovely. A kind face and Ashryver eyes. Her golden hair was loose and fell down the back of her pale green gown.
And, standing at her legs, was Rowan's cause to be here. Eyes that matched her mother's were narrowed slightly at him, an unseen fire dancing in the gold ringing her pupil. Her golden hair was up in a few twists and braids. She wore a simple deep green velvet dress with the Terrasen stag stitched on the bodice in silver. She wore a circlet fashioned into thin antler horns.
Rowan dismounted his horse, booted feet slamming into the dirt ground. The weapons he had stashed on his being jangled and clattered together. He yanked back the hood of his dirtied cloak before bowing before the royal family.
“Your majesty,” he spoke before straightening.
“Welcome, Prince,” the king spoke. “I hope your travels were well.”
“That they were, your majesty,” Rowan said. Though the trip was long, it wasn't difficult. There had been no hidden dangers on the road, no particularly bad weather save for a little rainfall here and there.
“We are all certainly happy to have you here,” the king continued, though Rowan could tell from Rhoe's hard gaze and the guards that they were not as happy as Orlon made them out to be. They were only tolerating his presence because they had to. “My dear niece is most excited to begin her training,”
The king’s sparkling eyes looked down to his niece fondly, the girl mustering up a tiny smile to her uncle in return before her eyes were back on Rowan, narrowed yet again.
Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.
The unrelenting flame in her eyes told him one thing.
This wasn't going to be easy.
…
Aelin studied her new mentor carefully.
He was tall, towering even, and built with hard muscle. A warrior through and through. His green eyes held no joy or spark in them and were busy assessing every detail of his surroundings. His shoulder-length silver hair was tied back to the nape of his neck, giving the princess a clear view of the wicked tattoos that descended down the left side of his face before disappearing under the collar to his tunic. She could tell it was written in the Old Language, but Aelin hadn't been taught how to read it. And the pointed ears… Fae. Aelin had only seen a handful of Fae before, not counting her when she accidentally slipped into her Fae form.
Aelin was eyeing the gleaming hatchets attached to his hip when Aedion whispered from beside her.
“That's the Rowan Whitethorn.”
Aelin pursed her lips in annoyance. Ever since Queen Maeve had sent word of who would be traveling to Terrasen, her cousin had been talking non-stop about this Rowan Whitethorn. Apparently, he was a renowned warrior. He couldn't have been that good if she had never heard of him.
“He once killed a war lord with a table,” Aedion murmured while the prince and her uncle conversed.
“With a table?” Aelin hissed back, moving her lips as little as possible so her parents wouldn't scold her for speaking when she shouldn't. “Did he squish him? Like a grape?”
Aedion’s answer was simply an incredulous face.
“Come, you will be shown to your rooms,” Orlon said. “We will give you time to rest and freshen up before dinner.”
Rowan bowed his head once again. “Thank you, majesty.”
His eyes traveled to Aelin once again. The princess searched for any hints of laughter or kindness in them but only found coldness.
She hated him already.
…
The rooms Rowan was given were good enough. Perhaps a bit finer than he was used to but good. He had a small balcony that overlooked the immense landscape or Terrasen. Perhaps he would take some time to fly over the mountain tops, to feel the cold, northern winds.
But, tonight he was expected to dine with the royal family. And tomorrow morning, he would begin Aelin's training.
So, he bathed and scrubbed the grime from traveling off his body before changing into his cleanest tunic, which probably wasn't quite fit for dining with royalty but he wasn't here to make niceties. He would dine with them tonight as was polite and customary. Rowan needed to make a good impression and stay in the Galathynius’ good graces. Maeve, although she was satisfied with the compromise they made for now, still longed to see Aelin herself one day. For that to happen, Terrasen would need to trust Doranelle. It was partially Rowan's job to ensure that happened.
While he waited to be summoned to dinner, Rowan used his spare time to clean the cache of weapons he had brought along. They weren't necessarily dirty, but the process was somewhat soothing.
He was in the middle of cleaning his pair of hatchets when there was a sharp knock on the door, alerting him that the time had come for him to try and be civil. He was essentially a prince in title only. When Rowan was younger, he had gotten basic court training, enough to get him by, but he had left that life behind. He would gladly take killing fields over political parties any day.
It was a young, scrawny boy who had come to fetch him. The boy had taken one look at Rowan’s opposing figure, which took up nearly the entirety of the doorway, and had paled slightly. He didn't look the warrior in the eye once as he led him to the dining room.
The stone halls of Orynth could have easily been cold and unwelcoming, but the king ensured they were not. Torches lit the halls, making sure no corner was left in darkness. There were paintings and tapestries decorating the walls, but nothing too extravagant. Rowan rather liked it. He had visited palaces where every spare inch was stuffed with overt displays of wealth. Satin curtains, gold chess sets, silver tea cups… but not here, even though Terrasen could be considered the most powerful and prosperous kingdom on the continent.
Rowan was the last to arrive to the dining room. The royal family was all sat down. Orlon at the head, an older man to his right. Darrow, Rowan assumed. The king's lover. Across from Darrow was a empty seat, which Rowan assumed was for him. That put him between the king and Rhoe. Beside Rhoe was his wife. The children were at the end of the table.
The young princess was still eyeing him warily as he took his seat. Across from the princess was a young boy, a handful of years older than her. Aedion Ashryver, then. The boy favored to take the blood oath to Aelin once she became queen. They looked terribly alike, same coloring down to the matching eyes. If Rowan didn't know any better, he would assume they were siblings.
He doubted the pair were aware about the short-lived marriage negotiations between the two. Maeve shot it down rather quickly, Rowan wasn't sure why. His queen’s reasons were her own… but looking at the two, some part of Rowan felt a slight sense of relief that Maeve turned it down. He had heard that the Ashryver boy was deeply loyal to his cousin and was in training to become a soldier, a warrior even. There was a wildness in his eye that told Rowan that the boy wouldn't enjoy court life one bit.
The boy was watching Rowan closely with intelligent eyes. There was something painfully familiar about the boy, but before Rowan could ponder it further, Rhoe spoke.
“Good evening, Prince,” the man spoke.
“Good evening, your highness,” said Rowan, nodding his head in recognition.
“How fares things in Doranelle?” Rhoe asked as the servants around them began to move and bring out the first course, a simple beef stew.
“Prosperous,” Rowan said simply. There wasn't really much else to describe. They were at peace. Crops were flourishing, trade was plentiful.
“What of Mistward?” Evalin asked. “Do you know of a man named Emrys?”
Evalin Ashryver had spent time in the fortress of the demi-Fae before she returned to Terrasen and bore Aelin. Rowan knew of who she spoke of. One of the demi-Fae who lacked in abilities that would catch Maeve's eye, leaving him to spend the remainder of his life at Mistward. He had spoken to him a few times.
“Mistward fares well,” Rowan said, though it had been a good four years since he stopped by. “Emrys seemed content the last time I saw him. Recently mated, actually.”
Evalin beamed. “If you see him again, please send him my regards.”
“Of course.”
As they ate the first course, there was idle chatter. Relatively simple questions about Doranelle, nothing too invasive. A question about how Maeve was, which put a bit of tension in the air, which Rhoe then tried to cut through by changing the topic slightly as their dishes were cleared away.
“Have you experience training younglings?” the prince of Terrasen asked.
Rowan could tell that Rhoe was extremely protective of his family, especially his little daughter. It would explain why he had been looking at Rowan like he was some half-wild beast the moment he arrived.
Rowan leaned back in his seat slightly. “I have trained children a handful of years older than your daughter. Thirteen, perhaps.”
The princess cut him a sharp look that seemed to say Don't talk about me like I'm not here.
Rowan looked away from the young princess back to Rhoe. “But, the training I did for them was for battle. They needed to be older then. For magic, the earlier she learns to control her powers the better.”
“And will you be training her simply to control her powers or how to fight with them?” Rhoe asked.
Rowan hesitated a moment, not sure how to answer the question. He had not received orders on how to specifically train the girl. “Would you like for her to learn how to use her powers for battle?”
The prince of Terrasen didn't answer right away. He simply glanced to his wife and then to his daughter. The girl's eyes held a stubborn spark in them at the thought of using her powers to battle, to protect. He then looked to his king. Orlon gave a nearly imperceivable nod.
Rhoe let out a long breath before looking back towards Rowan. “Yes. I want her to be able to protect herself and others, with both magic and blade, if you would be so willing.”
There had been no command to train the girl in weaponry, but there had also been no order against it. Rowan knew that it was always good to be trained in steel alongside magic. Magic can run out, leaving the wielder defenseless. Rowan had seen it plenty of times on killing fields. Talented magic users whose well ran dry, who weren’t skilled in blade, and met their untimely end.
“As you command, your highness.”
The next course was brought out. Herb roasted rabbit and potatoes. Even Rowan, who didn’t consider himself a glutton, felt his mouth water at the smell of it.
From the end of the table, a plate was placed before the princess. She inhaled the savory aroma deeply before her face screwed up slightly. Not in distaste but rather-
The girl let out a mighty sneeze that shook her entire body, and, in a flash of white light, shifted.
Rowan looked closely at the girl’s other form, at her now-pointed ears and slightly elongated canines, but her face was still scrunched up as she dragged a hand down it.
“Ow,” Aelin whimpered slightly, running her tongue over the gums around her canines. From across the table, her cousin snickered in amusement.
Rowan looked away from the girl back towards Rhoe and Orlon. “Can she control it?”
“No,” King Orlon said. “It happens at random.”
“I can speak for myself, uncle,” Aelin piped up, mouth still moving in a way that told Rowan she was trying to get used to the change.
Orlon looked to his niece fondly, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “Of course you can, Aelin.”
The princess cut Rowan a hard look once again that said If you have a question about me, ask me, you brute.
“When do you expect to begin her training?” Evalin asked.
“As soon as possible,” Rowan said. “Tomorrow morning, even, if that is alright with you.”
“The sooner the better,” Rhoe said. “Tomorrow it is.”
…
Dinner ended and the children were dismissed to allow the adults some more time to discuss adult things. Essentially, Aelin and Aedion were on their own to keep busy until someone came to wrestle them into a bath and then bed.
“I can’t believe you get to train with Rowan Whitethorn,” Aedion complained for perhaps the fifth time that day. “You don’t even know who he is.”
“I know he’s cranky and old,” Aelin grumbled. “Which means that I’m not gonna have any fun for five months every year for ten years.”
Aedion made a face. “So ungrateful!” he reached out and tugged on the point of his cousins ear, which she batted away testily. “At least you can bond about pointy ears.”
Aelin snarled at him.
“You’re always so much angrier when you’re in this form,” Aedion commented.
“Maybe you’re just extra annoying,” another voice added as Ren Allsbrook fell in step with them.
“He’s right,” Aelin said, looking towards the dark-haired boy. He was about the same height and age as Aedion. The two boys used to always be at one another’s throats, fighting over a future blood oath that would be Aelin’s to give away in the future. But, when it became apparent that Aedion would be the one to take it, their rivalry toned down to good old-fashioned male competitiveness that drove Aelin absolutely mad.
“What’s he like?” Ren asked Aedion, eyes glimmering with curiosity.
“Exactly like you would think,” Aedion said, barely concealed excitement on his face. “He’s huge. When he showed up, he was practically a walking armory. Fae blades and hatchets.”
“Does he really have the tattoo?”
“All down the side of his face to the tip of his fingers,” Aedion confirmed. “I wonder if it really is a list of all the people he’s killed.”
Aelin let out a very unprincess-like groan, throwing her head back dramatically. “All I hear is Rowan this and Rowan that. I haven’t had a full conversation with him yet and I’m already tired of him!” she looked sharply at the two boys who would be members of her court one day. “If this is going to be what I hear for the rest of the night, I’m going to my rooms.”
She didn’t bother saying farewell before breezing down the hall away from the boys, mind already on the book she had sitting on her bedside table.
“So ungrateful!” Ren commented as he watched the princess leave.
“That’s what I said!”
…
Aelin bathed and slipped into her most comfortable nightgown. She spent an hour or so thumbing through the pages of the book she had been reading before the sun set and the night turned cool. A fire was lit in the hearth by a maid who disappeared as soon as the flames began devouring the wood. It was just Aelin and the fire, the crackling embers whispering to her through the darkness, calling to her, to the wildfire in her veins.
Aelin’s eyes were glued on the fire as she tossed the blankets back and crossed her room, the stone floors cold under her bare feet. The princess kneeled before the hearth, close enough that she could feel the heat dancing across her skin. The light from the fire drowned her face in a warm glow and set the ring of gold around her pupil molten.
The fire whispered to her, beckoned her to come nearer, to taste the power that she had in her blood. Aelin reached a hand out to the writhing, gold flames that caressed and kissed at the skin of her palm without burning. The fire snaked and twisted her way up her forearm, dancing between her fingers. The power in her blood jumped and danced in delight at the use, but it wanted more, more, more-
“What are you doing?!”
Aelin gasped and jumped at the voices, not hearing anyone enter, too engrossed in her own magic. The fires quickly winked out as if they were never there.
Aelin’s mother and father were standing in the doorway, horror on their faces.
“I-I’m sorry,” Aelin stuttered, scrambling away from the fire, her powers once again shoved back down inside of her.
Her parents crossed the room, Rhoe scooping his daughter into his arms and lifting her from the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed, Evalin lowering herself beside him.
“You know it’s dangerous,” Rhoe said. “You could have burnt down your entire room. You remember what happened with the books.”
“I remember,” Aelin said, voice cracking. She still carried the guilt and regret in her for every page she had accidentally turned to ash.
“It’s going to get better, Fireheart,” Evalin said softly, soothing her daughter’s hair. “That’s why Rowan is here. He’s going to teach you how to use your magic, then nothing bad will happen again.”
“I don’t like him,” Aelin grumbled.
Rhoe’s laughter rumbled through his chest. “You haven’t even known him a day.”
“I can already tell he’s old and cranky.”
“Well, he is over three-hundred,” Evalin smiled.
“Three-hundred?” Aelin breathed in amazement. It was almost too much for the girl to comprehend. “Will I live that long?”
Rhoe and Evalin glanced towards one another briefly. They had heard the whispers through the castle, from scholars, from the few Fae that passed through. They can read the signs, her power. They say that she was predicted to Settle.
“Perhaps,” Rhoe said. “But we won’t know for many years.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a few more moments before Aelin spoke.
“I’m scared,” she admitted, still clutching onto her father’s tunic. “What if-what if I don’t learn to control it? What if I hurt someone?”
“Aelin, you can do anything you set your mind to,” Evalin said. “You’re smart and strong and stubborn.” She accentuated that word with a little pinch to her daughter’s side that made her giggle. “You will master your powers, and knowing you, you’ll go above and beyond.”
Aelin managed a small smile.
“Now, it’s high time for you to get some sleep,” Rhoe said, placing his daughter under the covers and tucking her in. “You have a busy day tomorrow.”
Rhoe and Evalin both pressed a kiss to the crown of Aelin’s head.
“Goodnight, Fireheart,”
“Goodnight,”