Prompt from Tumblr by throne-of-feels. I'm really sorry if Rowan is slightly OOC. I tried, guys! Please forgive me (begging face). Anywaysssss, enjoy!
Rowan gripped the note tightly, silently cursing Aelin as he strode through the streets, trying to ignore the passers-by who took one look at Rowan's tattoos and looked hastily away. He tried even harder to ignore the people who bowed to him, their Prince Consort.
For the first time in months, Rowan had woken up to an empty bed, Aelin's side unusually cold. She probably has a council meeting; Rowan had thought to himself as he got up and started dressing. It wasn't until Rowan had started to brush his hair, the small diamond encrusted brush (Aelin's personal favourite) getting caught in the snags, that he realised that Aelin had left him a note on her pillow.
It was pink, of course. And if Rowan knew Fireheart, his carranam and mate well enough, it was lavender scented. Rowan brought the note up to his nose and sniffed. Yes, definitely lavender.
In Aelin's swirly, yet slightly messy handwriting, it read:
Rowan, pick up the dress that I ordered at Geirn's boutique. Oh, and I need some new books to read. I'll trust your judgement.
Love, Aelin
Rowan groaned out loud, cursing Aelin in his head. He did not need this. Gods above, he had plenty of important things to do today. And yet…Rowan realised that he couldn't face Aelin knowing that he had placed his work above her.
Rowan smirked at himself. Gods, he was becoming sentimental. Aelin would laugh in his face, except she was the first one to say "I love you".
Shaking his head, Rowan threw on his black cloak, sheathed his daggers at his waist and shoved a few gold and silver coins lying around the table into a coin purse, dropping it into his cloak pocket. Honestly, how much could books and a dress cost?
Rowan looked around the town, trying to identify Geirn's shop out of a sea of identical shops. The town smelt like pine and snow, mixed with morning dew and dust. Aelin had told him once, when she had snuggled up against his chest after they had made love for the first time, that he smelt like Terrassen, like pine and snow.
Rowan had secretly sniffed himself after Aelin had fallen asleep, but he couldn't detect it. He had told Aelin about it later, and she had laughed, claiming that he did in fact smell like pine and snow. And then began to trail soft kisses on his jaw. Honestly, Rowan had forgotten what he had said later, he only remembered the wicked grin on her face and his exhausted state afterwards.
Rowan continued walking down the dirt road, his shiny and newly polished boots gradually becoming a dark grey colour. He knew that some of the people were probably wondering why the Prince Consort was out shopping alone, without any guards to protect him. Rowan almost considered it a personal dare-a challenge. Was anyone game enough to take on an immortal fae warrior with centuries of experience?
Rowan reached a store with windows advertising long elegant gowns with green and white sign that read Geirn's in cursive blue print. Rowan almost sighed in relief. He would probably kill himself-or Aelin, actually probably Aelin-if he had to walk further, had to put up with more stares and bows.
Rowan strode through the door, hearing it fall back into itself with a loud clank. The seamstress looked up, and almost dropped the dress that she was embroidering. She got up, her pale blond ringlets falling across her face as she bowed low.
"Your Highness," she stuttered, her cheeks colouring as she tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ears.
Gods, Rowan hated being bowed to. It was bad enough being a prince in Maeve's court, but now…being married to the Queen of Terrasen did have some set-backs.
"Call me Rowan," he said, making sure to lighten his tone. Don't growl, he told himself sternly. Be friendly.
"Of course, Prince Rowan," the woman said awkwardly. "Are you here for Queen Aelin's dress? We could have shipped it to the palace, Your Highness."
Of course they could've. Honestly, if shipping was possible, why did Aelin send him off on this errand?
"It's no trouble," said Rowan evenly. "I was just in town."
The woman nodded briskly, and rushed to the back of the store, quietly shifting through a rack of dresses. Rowan looked around the store, taking in the rainbow assortment of gowns hanging along the walls. It was a simple shop, yet elegant and well designed.
The woman returned with a silver gown threaded with gold, the sleeves a delicate silvery lace. "Here you go, Your Highness. I hope the queen likes it."
Rowan gave the woman a small smile, taking the dress into his hands. "How much does it cost?"
"Queen Aelin already paid for it," she replied, her eyes on the beautiful dress in Rowan's arms. "It's my best work yet."
"Thanks," said Rowan, turning his back on the woman and heading out the door.
Now he just needed to buy the books. There were at least three book stores on the street, and Rowan walked towards the quietest one-the one that promised the least amount of noise.
Aelin didn't specify which books she wanted, so Rowan picked out random ones. He chose a few romances, some fantasies and a historical novel. Rowan made sure to choose the books with titles that sounded like sex was involved. Aelin especially enjoyed those kinds of books, though only the gods probably knew why.
He carried the tower of books to the counter, trying to balance the books without them dropping. The bookseller smiled when he saw Rowan, and bowed his head in respect. "Prince Rowan! What a lovely selection of books."
"They're for Aelin," he said awkwardly, feeling the need to explain the abundance of romance novels in the pile.
"Ahhh," the man said, nodding. "The queen does love to read."
Rowan stood quietly, as the man wrapped the books in paper and placed them in bags.
"That comes to seventy five silver coins, Your Highness."
Rowan almost spat in surprise. Seventy-five? Were books really that expensive? Rowan took out his purse and counted.
All of his gold and silver coins came up to seventy. "Shit," Rowan cursed, feeling around the purse for any remaining coins. There were none left. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why didn't he bring more money?
"Is everything alright, Your Highness?" the man asked, a worried and slightly shocked expression on his face.
"Yes," Rowan said hurriedly. "I left my coin purse in my carriage. I will be right back."
"Your Highness could take out one book," the bookseller suggested, already reaching for the bag.
"No, no," said Rowan heading towards the door, dropping the gown next to the books along the way. "I will be right back."
After the door slammed shut, Rowan began to walk around the town, trying to inconspicuously search for dropped coins, while appearing to be out for a stroll.
What would the people think if they saw their Prince Consort looking for money on the street like an urchin?
Rowan looked in sewers and crates. He looked under trees and under carriages. He even tried to feel around on the ground for coins hidden amongst grass. No luck. Rowan almost gave up on all hope when he saw a shiny gold circle a few paces away.
Rowan ran towards it, uncaring of the curious eyes fixated on him. He had stopped caring hours ago, when he realised that coins didn't magically grow from trees.
He picked up the coin, its edges filled with dirt and rocks. Finally! Rowan pocketed the coin and ran back towards the location of the book store.
It was closed.
Shit.
Rowan looked around the street and realised that it was dark and mostly devoid of people.
He growled in frustration. All those hours wasted, and he still couldn't get the books.
And that gown… Gods above, Aelin would burn him alive.
Once Rowan returned to the palace, he found the whole place quiet and dark. How long was he out? Was the entire palace asleep? The guards nodded to him as he entered, and Rowan returned the gesture.
He entered the unusually quiet palace, trying to think of an explanation for Aelin.
Rowan was lost in his own thoughts and almost jumped out of his own skin when the entire palace suddenly erupted in light and hundreds of men and women dressed in suits and ball gowns shouted, "happy birthday Prince Rowan!"
Rowan looked around, dumbstruck, and caught the mischievous grin of his mate. She was wearing the silver and gold gown, and on a table beside her sat the books that he had tried to buy that day.
Rowan felt a faint blush colour his cheeks and the entire audience smiled as Aelin walked over to Rowan and kissed him.
"I hate you," Rowan hissed as he broke the kiss.
Aelin planted another light kiss on his cheek and said, "happy birthday, Rowan. And I hate you too."