Nameless ( A Court of Mist and Fury and Throne of Glass Crossover)

The Spring Court

The jasmine and crackling embers that hung in the air told Rowan that this was home, this was were he was meant to be. And of course, it would mean nothing if not for the body beside him, the female who had stolen the blankets she was now wrapped in, from him, in the middle of the night. He would grumble and growl at her when she woke up, but he didn't mind much, the cold was his element, the warmth was her's. Plus, her chronic coldness always gave Rowan reason to wrap her in his arms. 

Only a puff of golden strands strewn across the pillow showed, but her stubble curves showed that her back was facing him. Aelin groaned and shifted, her arm sliding out from under the sheets, a stark purple bruise wrapped around her wrist, and his gut twisted, in rage, in fear, in the need to touch and hold her. Rowan was afraid of what those blankets concealed, what he would find imprinted in her flesh, but he needed to know. So he reached a hand out, brushing back her hair, and pulled the blanket from her neck. Revealing the burns and scars he had not protected her from, and the hand prints that he saw peeking from the nape of her neck, the imprinted fingers wrapping around her shoulders. 

And the two matching puncture wounds on her throat.  

Rowan's head snapped up, and he groaned, his thigh and bicep pulsed in draining pain. His arms hung limp against shackles that chained him to the walls of the dark cell. A cell made for holding fae. The clamps around his calves kept him on his knees. He tugged an arm and sharp pain spread as skin tore, something, he could feel, was draining his magic.  

Delicate footsteps sounded and Rowan stiffened, a square of blinding light was revealed, the silhouette of a proud female stood in the center.  As his eyes adjusted he saw the blue shade of the dress with the deep hood, concealing her face, except the glistening lips that were stretched in a pleasant smile. 

Thin tanned hands reached up and pushed her hood back,  golden hair framing her face painfully reminded him of Aelin. 

Her eyes flickered to his now bleeding wrists, "The shackles are lined with a ashwood spikes, it's draining your magic." she took a step towards him, "That's why even such a strong fae male like you is unable to escape." 

Another step towards him, close enough his head tilted back to read her features, "Plus, you lost a good deal of blood from the arrows."

The female's hand crept closer and closer until it rested on Rowan's bare shoulder, tracing up to his wound, "I am Ianthe, by the way." 

He said nothing. 

Ianthe's hand left his arm, idly reaching for his hair, playing with the long silver strands. Rowan snarled at her, and yanked against his shackles. 

She ignored him, tracing her finger down his cheekbones, his jaw, "Why were you in such a rush, Hawk?"

"We will destroy you all" Rowan growled at her. They had her here, and he would get to her and then they would make them pay. Make the blond male who had forced himself on her pay, in blood. 

Ianthe's thumb tugged at his lip and he snarled, snaking her off. 

"Interesting," was all she said "Welcome to the Spring Court." she gave him a sultry smile, "The Highlord will see you soon." 

Then she left. 

Minutes later the sound of more footsteps traveled to the dark room, before the door was opened, the scent hit Rowan. The scent he had been waiting to smell, cut grass and spring flowers. He felt himself slip into the familiar killing calm, and he felt a whirlwind grow in his gut, fighting against the ashwood, pulsing with the pain. 

The door swung open and a male walked in, flanked by two guards, but Rowan didn't look at them. He ran his eyes over the male, each inch made the wind grow wilder, till he reached the green eyes, lighter than his. And though the ashwood pushed and squeezed, the rage pushed harder and his magic released, as ice and wind. 

The ice burst forward covering the walls, his skin, his shackles in small crystals that reflected the light, the force of the wind sent the guards and male stumbling, and reaching for weapons. Rowan didn't know how long his magic would last but he reached for the air in the male's lungs and stole it, took it with him. 

The male fell to his knees, just like Rowan wanted, and clawed at his throat, chest heaving as he braced a hand in front of him, lowering his head to the floor.

The guards whirled to the Highlord, one kneeling down in an attempt to help him in some way. The other rushed towards Rowan plunging a dagger into his side, he gasped, the air returning to the male's lungs as it left his. 

He didn't look at the knife in his side, or the guard who had put it there, he kept his eyes on the heaving male, as he rose his head snarling at the guards, "Whip him."  

-

"You smell of the night court." The male said, Tamlin was his name. It was what his guards had called him. 

"I'm not from the night court." Rowan seethed, the skin on his back tearing at every flinch of muscle. 

Tamlin paced in front of him, hands clenched in fists, "Then where are you from?" he growled. 

"I'm not from any of your courts, I'm not from your world, and I don't give a shit about your politics." Rowan spat. 

Tamlin paused as if he something had occurred to him, "What is your name?"

"Rowan."

He surveyed Rowan, "Why are you here then." 

To get his mate back. To kill Tamlin, to tear him apart for what he did to Aelin.

Rowan said nothing. 

Tamlin stepped closer, "Do you happen to know a Celaena?"

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Pretty short and not my best :( , but hope you enjoyed!!!