Chapter Text
Aelin Galathynius likes to consider herself an artist. Her masterpieces often require an immense amount of precision, patience and skill. Even the slightest mistakes can topple her whole plan, shattering it into pieces like glass.
It's a good thing she's the best in the business.
She's always had a fascination with pretty things, and she absolutely loves the thrill of adventure. It's for this particular reason that Aelin loves her job so much.
Being the most wanted art thief in the world does come with some downsides, however. It means there are constantly people wanting to bring her in. Aelin has to admit she gets a lot of satisfaction at seeing her alias at the top of every newspaper after a big job.
Being the best also means that she's wanted by a lot of other people as well. People with money, to be exact. In fact, some of her favorite jobs have been for the filthy rich wanting a piece of decor for their living room.
But for her, it was never about the money, though it does help make things a lot easier.
For her, she does these jobs because they're fun. Countless teams of FBI agents tracking her every move until she slips off their radar, having them curse the day they almost caught Celaena Sardothien. It excites her.
Though many have tried and failed over the years, there has only ever been one person to even come remotely close to bringing her down.
Rowan Whitethorn is a bit of a weakness for her, if she was being honest. She couldn't help but lead him on whenever he gets close, letting him think she's within his grasp. Something about how he operates just fascinates her.
Their last interaction was at the Royal Gallery of Orynth. She had swiped one of the priceless portraits for a fake weeks prior, and wanted to see her finished product.
Walking into the art museum for the second time was a breeze, the authorities not even sparing her a second glance. It was almost too easy. One would think that after someone stole millions of dollars worth of art, they would have at least upped their security.
That is, if they were even aware they had been stolen from in the first place. Sometimes it took weeks or even months for anyone to notice her fakes. And when they did, she made sure she was long gone.
Agent Whitethorn had always noticed, though.
Walking up to one of the many benches facing the wall, Aelin delicately sits down, smoothing out the miniscule wrinkles in her dress.
She knows he's there, watching her every move. She doesn't acknowledge him, though. Let him think she doesn't notice him, that he has the upper hand. Aelin has to fight the smile blooming on her face at the thought.
His confidence has always been something she admired in him. He follows leads that are nothing more than a hunch, determined to bring her to justice. And determined, he is. Whitethorn is known for breaking many big cases, putting a lot of the most wanted criminals behind bars himself. It's part of why she loves toying with him so much. She knows that he won't rest until he catches her.
She loves the attention she gets from the feds and the press. Or maybe it's just his attention she enjoys having.
Someone sits down in the seat beside her.
"Beautiful, don't you think?" She asks, tilting her head to the side, studying the frame mounted on the wall.
Rowan Whitethorn hums to himself before he speaks. "Yes," he says. "Though it just doesn't compare to the original. It's a shame this cheap replica is all people will see."
Cheap replica? As if. Aelin spends hours making sure every last detail is perfect in all of her replicas. Down to the very last paint stroke. Rowan probably wouldn't know fine art if it hit him in his annoyingly handsome face.
She knows Rowan is just taunting her, and she chides herself for getting worked up about his stupid commentary. She doesn't care what he thinks about her. Not even a little bit... And yet…
He can say whatever the hell he wants about her and her craft. Even still, Aelin thrives on validation. And seeing the look on his face every time she slips away from him yet again is enough validation for a lifetime. She lives off of it.
"I can hear you plotting from here, Whitethorn." Aelin says, her gaze still trained on the painting.
"Just thinking about how I'm going to arrest you is all," he replies.
They both know he has no power here. None of Celaena Sardothien's heists are tied to Aelin Galathynius. To the rest of the world, Aelin Galathynius was an art history student at the University of Orynth, working part time at the cafe across campus. The authorities think they are looking for a woman with short red hair, not a platinum blonde, blue eyed woman.
The only person to ever get close enough to be able to recognize her face was sitting next to her. Normally she would be concerned with someone knowing her true identity, but if he really wanted to turn her in, he would have figured out a way to do so by now.
Maybe he's just waiting for the right time, or for enough evidence. Or maybe he just enjoys chasing her as much as she does slipping away.
Aelin sighs dramatically and rises from the seat gracefully. She glances over her shoulder as she starts making her way towards the exit, her heels clicking on the marble floors.
"Until next time then," she says as she saunters past Rowan. His eyes track her the entire time, and she feels his gaze burning into her as she walks away from him yet again.
As she leaves, she swears she hears him whisper a curse under her breath. Aelin smiles then, wondering when next time will be.
Aelin just can't resist events like this. The sparkling lights, the dresses, champagne, the art. Something about being so close to it all just thrills her.
The Royal Adarlan Gallery was hosting some kind of charity event at one of the many high end hotels tonight. She couldn't really remember what the event was for or whatever these rich people's money was going to. She only came here for one thing, really.
There was no need to go out if her way to blend in tonight. The authorities know Celaena Sardothien wouldn't dare coming out to such a public gala. But Aelin Galathynius, however…
The dress she picked out is a floor length, shimmering gold piece. The neckline is barely modest, but it's nothing compared to the back of the dress. It's almost completely nonexistent, leaving her back mostly bare, save for the bits of fabric keeping the dress together. It's slightly over the top for an event like this, but Aelin couldn't care less. Not when he was here. In fact, she picked this specific dress because she knew that he would be in attendance tonight.
As if the thought alone had summoned him, Aelin feels his presence at her back. It was almost like a sixth sense. She could always tell when he was around, or if he was watching her. He doesn't speak yet, and she knows he's taking his time checking her out.
She wants to see his expression, so she turns and faces him.
His face is carefully neutral, but she knows how to read him by now. His eyes give away everything he's feeling, and she knows she was right about the dress choice.
He clears his throat as his green eyes finally make their way back up to her turquoise ones. "Care for a dance?" He asks, extending his hand towards her.
Aelin smiles sweetly, placing her hand in his. "I thought you'd never ask."
They make their way to the open space where a few other couples were dancing to the live orchestra nearby. Rowan's hand remains holding hers, while his other finds its way to her back, his fingers on her bare skin setting her aflame.
They move along with the music, and Aelin is pleased to discover that Rowan is quite a beautiful dancer. He spins her around gracefully, while still keeping her close to him.
They don't talk for the entirety of the first song, instead choosing to take the time to study each other. They barely break eye contact, only doing so when Rowan spins her in time with the dance.
It isn't exactly the first time they've been this close to one another. Aelin could easily recall a time when they were perhaps even closer. The memory of that night, so similar to this one, brings a smile to her face.
Rowan seems to notice where her train of thought has headed as she grins at him. He frowns, trying to hide his amusement.
"That won't happen again," he tells her, though his mind obviously betrays him as his hand flexes on her back and he pulls her closer to his chest.
"Oh I'm sure it won't, Whitethorn," Aelin says sweetly, looking up at him through her eyelashes in a way she knows drives him crazy. Judging from the way his jaw clenches, she knows she's successful.
"A bold move coming out here tonight, Celaena," he deflects.
Aelin smiles at him again, choosing to play the innocence card. "And why is that"
Rowan finally breaks eye contact to glance around the crowded room. Though he's no longer looking at her, he pulls her impossibly closer, leaving mere centimeters between them. This close, she can practically smell the soap he uses.
His eyes make their way back to hers and she sees his answer in his irises, in the way he holds her. Because I've got you now.
Aelin cocks an eyebrow. Is that so?
Rowan oozes confidence in everything he does. She admires that about him, but she enjoys toying with him too much to let this opportunity pass.
Aelin plasters on a sickeningly sweet smile. "We both know how this night is going to end, Whitethorn."
"With you in handcuffs," Rowan says simply. He realizes his mistake a second too late. She can tell he regrets the words immediately after saying them aloud.
Aelin grins at the shift in the conversation. "Oh don't tempt me with a good time, agent Rowan Whitethorn," she says, drawing out his name slowly.
Rowan scoffs, but his usual bravado has faltered and she can see right through him. "You know what I meant."
The song starts to come to an end and Rowan spins her around one last time. As they come back together again, faces mere inches apart, Aelin leans in to whisper, "promises, promises, Whitethorn." She can't help but laugh quietly to herself.
Rowan's eyes track her the whole way as she removes her hand from his and saunters off to one of the secluded corners of the room. She only looks over her shoulder once, sending him that look of hers that always has him tripping over his own feet.
Aelin smiles, knowing she has him right where she wants him. Just like always. She doesn't turn around again–doesn't need to to know that he's close behind her.
Aelin Galathynius has stolen a lot of things in her life. Priceless jewels, art, money. But she's never really wanted anything as much as she's wanted this man. Maybe it's just an obsession of hers–wanting the one thing she cannot have. Or maybe it's the way he looks at her, talks to her, holds her. The way he sees Aelin and not Celaena.
She makes her way down the dimly lit hallway and around the corner towards one of the elevators. Rowan trails quietly behind her as the voices of the crowd soften into silence, only interrupted by their echoing footsteps. Every single time they encounter each other, Aelin slips away from him. And every single time, Rowan follows.
Aelin is positive then. If there is one thing that she's absolutely sure of in her life, it's that she wants Rowan Whitethorn.