Hello and welcome to my first fanfic in ages. I read Heir of Fire this weekend twice and just couldn't believe how much I loved it or how Celaena could possibly have left Rowan behind! This piece is the result of my mind being stuck in an Heir of Fire loop. There may be more installments, there may not, I just had to get this out of my head.

Disclaimer: All credit for the amazing Throne of Glass series goes to the wonderful Sarah J Maas, of whom I am totally in awe!

Phoenix

The return journey to Mistward took Rowan considerably less time than the outward journey had. That should have been a good thing, would have been a good thing, in the past.

Instead his blood was boiling with frustration which was only exacerbated by the silence surrounding him. Even the chill of the night air gliding over his feathers, the biting cold of his magic deep inside, none of it could cool his temper.

Centuries of life had taught him patience but that just crumbled away in the face of this injustice.

She had left him.

He was a protector, a warrior and yet right now he was helpless. Aelin had sailed back to Adarlan, to the very city where that monster sat on his throne, and left him behind as she put herself in danger.

He understood her reasons, both the ones she'd said out loud and the more private ones she'd kept to herself. He would stand out in Rifthold, anywhere in Adarlan for that matter. Even if the Fae that had lived there in the past hadn't left, he was nothing like them with their gentle, joyous hearts. As for his animal form, a hawk would be no good to Aelin in the challenges ahead. But at least he would have been with her, to reassure her and remind her that she was never alone.

But Arobynn Hamel was her own, private, demon. Rowan had gleaned that she was hiding the truth from herself, of Arobynn's involvement, when she first told him the story of her incarceration in Endovier and the heart rending events leading up to it. But in the weeks since the attack on Mistward, since her final encounter with the Valg princes, he had seen a change in her. Completely by accident, the Valg had given her a gift and had created their own perfect enemy. After breaking every shred of resistance she had left, the Valg had forced her to relive her most harrowing and formative memories. Again and again, until eventually, she had seen the truth of them, become a true phoenix rising from the ashes.

Yes, he understood that Aelin, no, Celaena had to face Arobynn herself. Alone. This was Celaena's fight. She had to defeat him, as Rowan himself had defeated the beasts that had killed Lyria, all those years before. The wyrdkey had simply pushed her into action, not made the decision for her. Arobynn Hamel had signed his own execution the day he took Sam from her. All that had changed was the timing.

The foothills of the Cambridge Mountains swept by underneath, blanketed by the night as he continued his journey, his mind lost in thought.

He was old and had lived through much but listening to the stories of her life, that blink-of-an-eye that was her life, had made him take a closer look at his own.

When Lyria had died, had been murdered in their home that should have been a safe place, he had lost all sense of self. The next decade he had barely been more than an animal, a creature of grief, anger and self-loathing. He had welcomed the suffering that came with being Maeve's blood-sworn servant. There were no choices to be made, no freedoms, no rights and no blame. His mate had died for Maeve's wishes, for his own arrogance. The least he could do was make that sacrifice, that loss, mean something by making his servitude to Maeve complete. Rowan had spent the next centuries trying to claw his way out of the abyss that was his grief, knowing that he didn't truly deserve to ever escape it.

All that had started to change after he met Aelin.

In the beginning Rowan had thought that the girl he'd been charged with was nothing more than a spoiled, undisciplined brat. He knew, now, that she was that, but she was also so much more. The angry, mouthy child he had met was nothing more than the crumbling shell left behind after the toll her life so far had taken on her. Like the phoenix, she was burned to smouldering ashes, nothing solid left, just smoke to remind the onlooker what she had once been.

Emrys had been right to take Rowan to task about his attitude toward her. Every word the old man had said was true. Aelin did need someone to hold her hand, to pull her back up when she fell, to help her become a woman who would change the world, not someone to slap her down time and again as he had been doing. It shouldn't have taken the old story teller, a mortal who had lived a fraction of the life that Rowan himself had, to point that out, and Rowan was ashamed that it had.

Slowly, Aelin had become an indelible part of his life, her presence at night enough to keep the guilt and it's nightmares away. The sound of the steel in her voice, weak but growing stronger every day, had begun to shake the walls he'd put up, enough for him to take another look at himself. Enough for him to hear the echos in the empty space inside of himself that Maeve had created, where his soul should have been.

He had deserved the pain of Maeve's enslavement, had deserved every moment of it. But in the light of the wildfire that was Aelin's heart, he had seen a new future, a new way to repent for his failure. One that didn't require his soul as payment.

There were thousands of people, innocent people, suffering just as Lyria had because of the tyrant who sat upon the glass throne. Some of them murdered for their magic, their husbands, wives, children and parents killed as they were forced to watch. Others were enslaved in Callacula or Endovier where death was a blessing, for being rebels, for believing in a better world. He couldn't help them but Aelin could. Aelin would. And when she gathered them he would be there, to help her and to take the ones like himself, those who burned with revenge and give them the skills to claim their own retribution.

When the time came Rowan knew he would stand at Aelin's side. And it would be Aelin. Celaena Sardinien who had taught Aelin so much would be laid to rest with the King of the Assassins and Aelin would finish becoming the Queen she was always meant to be, Celaena just another facet.

He would stand at her side, fight at her back, until one of them took their final breath. Rowan would be her right hand, he would make sure that she always had someone to trust, who would see her for her and not the expectations of the world.

It chafed more than he could put into words that she had gone into danger without him but he would do what he could for her here, even if that was just to keep the demi-fae of Mistward safe, to train them for the war that was looming ever closer.

Maybe one day when he faded into the Afterworld, he could face Lyria, look her in the eye. Nothing would ever fix the mistakes of the past but maybe he could prove to her that he had become a better man, one who deserved the chance to apologise.

Thanks for reading ?