Prompt: Rowan taking Aelin to a lake in the woods and them teasing each other and laughing and then woah are they making out? Oh golly would you look at that now they're making out. Those crazy kids. (via anon)

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"You know," Aelin muttered as she skirted around a rather large rock, a silk cloth covering her eyes, "there are far easier ways for an impromptu training session. I don't particularly like trekking through the forest blind."

Rowan chuckled, his breath warm against her neck. "What would be the fun in that?" The small hairs at the back of her neck prickled with his nearness, and she very nearly shivered.

"You're not going to feed me to some lake creature, are you?" she inquired warily, "because that will certainly dampen my plans to be crowned queen."

He clucked, "The poor creature will probably spit you out immediately considering how sour you are." Aelin scowled, making sure to step extra hard on his foot.

She sensed something in front of her a moment too late in her distraction but there was the slightest pressure on her waist, and Aelin awkwardly sidestepped the fallen log.

Rowan poked her. "Pay attention."

"I am," she complained. To you, she added silently. She was infinitely glad her eyes were covered. At least he couldn't read her thoughts. Aelin didn't know if he would be angry or disgusted. "Stop distracting me."

He pinched her, and Aelin knew he was frowning again. "Do you ever stop glowering? Chaol and Aedion are afraid of you as it is." She spun swiftly, but Rowan barely missed a step. They were close now, she could feel the heat of him and hear the drumming beat of his heart and… he didn't seem to be breathing. She cocked her head to the side, ears straining… but, nope.
"Are you–" she began, then stopped.

Aelin could sense the predatory intent on him and it set her pulse on edge. "Are we hunting?"

"No," he said and Aelin relaxed, "but there seems to be an awful lot of Little Folk watching us." She smiled slightly, and Rowan sighed. "What–"

The Little Folk that had followed them converged on him in a wave. Aelin could hear his yelps as he was dragged under a sea of minuscule bodies. "Princess," she heard the growl. Laughing, she ripped the blindfold off and ran.

Aelin couldn't hear him–Rowan was too skilled for that– but as the forest quieted as if it were holding its breath, she wondered what madness had convinced her angering a centuries old Fae warrior had been a good idea.

She glanced right and left. He was not in sight either, but the pine and snow scent of him was near and the low threatening buzz of storm winds made the short hairs on her arms prickle with delicious anticipation.

The princess darted forward the moment he lunged, his broad hand grazing a path down her spine as she hurled herself around another tree. Panting, he regarded her with slitted green eyes. "You won't get away with this," he promised, smiling with eerie calm.

Aelin raised placating hands. "It was a joke–" but Rowan pounced and she rolled away. "I thought you were supposed to protect me," she said, after she had gotten her breath back, still edging away from the warrior who seemed to be able to prowl closer and closer without moving.

"You ordered them to attack," he murmured, the softness to his tone much more menacing than his usual growls, and Aelin wondered if the heat had made her hallucinate the bedroom eyes he was currently employing to pin her to the spot. She blinked, and it was gone. Yup, she had definitely imagined it. "Since you clearly threw me to the wolves, I don't see how you need me to be your protector."

The princess took a step back, but the dirt collapsed from under her feet and she had only a second to contemplate her imminent death and the horrified look on Rowan's face as he reached for her before she was sucked into the darkness.

It was barely a second of freefalling before a hard body encased hers and they thumped unceremoniously to the ground. Aelin was on top of him and at the moment it seemed the most hilarious thing in the world, to be alive.

Rowan did not laugh with her and he seemed to grow almost angry as she chuckled. He flipped her, so his body pinned her to the dirt. "Are you crazy?" he breathed, his face too close for her to avoid the naughty, naughty thoughts that came to mind. Aelin knew he could read everything on her face, but she was past embarrassment so she decided she might as well throw caution to the wind.

Her lip pressed into his, a soft feather light touch, barely anything. Rowan's hands tightened on her wrists, his green eyes burning bright in their dim surroundings, but did not respond.

Aelin hadn't expected her feelings to be returned– after all, he already had a mate– but it didn't stop her heart from clenching around her throat like a vise. She dropped her gaze, ashamed. "Sorry," she muttered. Not sorry, not sorry, not sorry.

Rowan was still, so still Aelin wondered if he had died from shock and revulsion, but when she peeked up at him, he was still staring at her, unreadable. She had struck him speechless. Aelin wanted to laugh, but she was afraid it would sound more like a sob.

Sighing, she rolled to her feet. They were in an underground lake of sorts, not unlike the one below Bald Mountain. Glow-worms shed twinkling lights and they were arranged perfectly into the constellations. How…

The Little Folk. Of course. She shook her head with a rueful grin. They had probably planned all of it.

"Aelin…"

She stiffened as he came up behind her, but when Rowan reached for her, Aelin flinched. "Don't." Her voice was cool, indifferent. She could hear him swallow and hated herself for being so attuned to him.

Aelin dove into the lake, to clear her mind. It was warmer than she expected as she surfaced with a gasp. Rowan cut a dark silhouette against the light of the glow-worms and his fists were clenched at his sides. He took a step towards her, but she dove under again if just to avoid him longer.

She sat on the silt at a shallower end. The water stirred above her head and she tilted her head back, letting the water drain the tension away from her muscles.

A strong hand clamped around her arm and dragged her to the surface. Aelin shook him off with a thrash. "What are you doing?" she snapped, around gasps of air.

"If you knew how long you were down there you would not fault me for worrying," Rowan snapped back, his tanned face drawn. He gripped her shoulders, hard. "What is wrong with you? Is it because…" he trailed off as Aelin gazed at him steadily.

"Because of what?" she asked frigidly. "Because I threw myself at you?"

His shoulders hunched. "You don't need this distraction right now. You need to concentrate on your training–"

Aelin cut him off with a sharp little laugh. "I know what I need, Rowan, and I need you."

"You have me," he said quietly.

She cocked her head. "Do I? I couldn't have read this so wrong. Tell me you don't love me. Tell me Lyria is the only one in your heart." He said nothing.

Aelin moved away. In a flash, Rowan was in front of her again. His lips found hers and suddenly even without the water, she was drowning. Her legs went around his hips as Rowan pressed her against the wall, all teeth and tongue, madness and fury.

His canines grazed her throat, her breath hitched and Rowan paused a moment, his harsh breaths fanning against the sensitive skin below her jaw. He pressed a soft kiss to the place where her neck met her shoulders.

Aelin murmured his name and she thought she was prepared for it, but when his teeth pierce her throat and the last barrier between them was broken, there was nothing but a soft golden light and then she was floating across an expanse of velvety clouds bearing her up, up, up. Mine, the teeth said. Mine, mine, mine.

Rowan shuddered against her. "Not possible," he breathed. But the truth was plain and the rope that bound their souls together glowed against their skin. He stared at her as if she was his air, and salvation and then they were kissing again, this time soft and slow. As if they had all the time in the world.

Aelin twinned her fingers into his hair as they breathed and explored, each movement a dance. Together, each reverent motion said to the world. Together.

Above them, the Little Folk gathered, crowding in around the trap they had constructed, clapping excitedly as they chattered in a childlike coos and babbles. There was a flutter of wings and a shooing motion and a netting of soft leaves were placed over the mouth of the hole.

Mated, they said.