Rowaelin Oneshots (Throne of Glass)

Ink (Part 2)

Aelin padded across the rug to their connected bathroom, carefully maneuvering around the creaky floorboards to avoid waking the brute sprawled across her sheets. Rowan barely slept at all these days, so he needed these peaceful mornings with no meetings or no nightmares to survive. Half the time she awoke crying and shaking wrapped in his arms, his voice in her ear whispering comforting words. It was nice, of course, to have him there to ground her through the flashbacks- but it bothered Aelin that in the mornings she could see the bags forming under her eyes, the moments he would just zone off, staring into space. It was obvious that he was up long before or long after her nightmares would wake her. It bothered her even more that she was probably the reason for his exhaustion. The torture from Maeve had nearly broken Aelin, she needed to remind herself that it had nearly broken Rowan too.

She stopped herself from tracing a finger against the black tattoos on his lower back as she walked by. His body fell and rose with his steady breathing- she would forever thank the gods for that. Taking the last steps, she reached the bathroom door and closed it behind her.

When the bath water began to cool Aelin finally got out and dried herself off, cautious not to let her eyes linger on the horrible disfigurements marring her flesh. The bands on her wrists, she had accepted, the lashes on her back, she had worn like jewelry- these new markings were hideous, she could find no grim beauty in them. Aelin had thought Rowan would think the same. He would hate them, not because they were ugly but because they were constant reminders of where she had been hurt. Yet he didn't, merely because they were a part of her.

Aelin bent down to rub her leg dry with a soft towel, catching a glimpse of her obliterated back as she stood. Something like dread curled in her gut. Hopefully, the tattoo would help. If the piece of art Rowan had designed wasn't enough to make her beautiful, nothing ever would be.

After getting dressed in loose pants and one of Rowan's massive shirts, that Aelin had to knot at the back just so she wasn't tripping on its hem, she waltzed out of the closet. Her bare feet not making a sound.

Her mate sat among crinkled sheets, Rowan's tanned chest gloriously bare, the hair he hadn't bothered cutting in months hanging over his eyes, "You're wrinkling my shirt."

"I'm going to take it off soon anyway."

She saw his muscles tense, his gaze landed on her with predatory focus. Aelin smirked, rolling her eyes, "I meant because of the tattoo, buzzard."

Rowan inhaled deeply, releasing the sheets he had clutched in his fist, "You chose a tattoo?"

Though she had, she still wanted to know his opinion. "Which do you like the most?" Aelin asked.

There was no pause or hesitation, "Whichever one makes you feel the most beautiful." when her answer did not come he continued, "If you aren't sure about either of them I can design something else."

"No," Aelin reassured him as she drifted to the desk the designs were laid on. She plucked one off the table, "I want this one."

Using it as an excuse to step closer to Rowan, Aelin stepped in between his legs. She handed him the paper. Rowan laced their fingers together and looked at the design. He observed it for a moment. She knew he wasn't analyzing the design but debating voicing something.

Finally, he opened his mouth, "That's a lot of ink Aelin-"

"I know." she snapped.

He grimaced, looking up at her, "The problem isn't the ink, if you do this it will take several days." Again he paused and looked down at the design.

Aelin rolled her eyes, "Oh, just say it already."

He drew in a deep breath, "I'm not comfortable with doing it all in salted ink." Rowan must have seen the protest written on her face because he quickly offered an explanation, "You already have done your tribute with the previous tattoo," she looked away in exasperation and using a finger he brought her chin back so she was forced to meet his eyes, "just because the tattoo is gone doesn't mean the tribute is too." he finished softly.