finale
xvii
for haley
She sits atop a throne carved from the bones of the dead and stares at the looming doors engraved with intricate patterns. The sunlight makes the doors look like they're shining - and they are, an almost unnoticeable glow. Unnatural.
Aelin is waiting for them to open. There's a sudden flap of wings, and she holds her hand out as the raven perches on it. The bird croaks as she strokes its feathers.
"They've come," she says softly, and the bird ruffles his feathers in agreement. Killian hops to her shoulder as the Eye of Elena gleams at her throat, turning a blue deeper than the color of the amulet that hangs low, almost at her navel.
She stands in welcome just as the doors slam open; a group of people spill in, eyes widening as they take in her castle. It is different than what they have been expecting, she knows. The Amulet of Orynth hums through the fabric of her dress, and a cold wind drifts through the room.
I claimed you, a voice whispers, raspy and ancient, but you have claimed me as well. Do not forget.
She smiles to herself. "I don't," she breathes before spreading her arms and raising her voice for her visitors. "You have come."
She recognizes the first male; he steps forward cautiously and kneels, as he should. Rowan Whitethorn - she remembers him well. He has not changed; the Rowan she once knew is still there in the determined glint in his eyes, green like the pine trees that grow around her home, in the tall, broad build, in the long silver hair, and most of all in the winding tattoo that climbs up his arms and neck - words to represent a different time. Her own tattoo still exists - as does another, different one.
"Aelin," he rumbles, but she's running a critical eye over the rest of his party. Aedion - her cousin, her brother, her protector, tall and lanky and alert, dragging his eyes between her and the shadows. A ghost leopard prowls between the legs of her companions, tail whipping back and forth as golden eyes peer at Aelin. Only three.
She cocks her head and smiles, cold and sharp. "Rowan," she purrs, taking a step forward. Killian caws, and she lifts a hand for the raven to perch on.
"To the mountains," she murmurs, trailing a finger along ink-black feathers. "You know my orders. Be careful." Killian lets out one last croak and lifts off, darting out of the throne room. She watches him go.
Her guests watch, too, curiosity lighting in their features, but she catches their attention again. "My guests," she calls boldly, opening her arms again. "my friends. Tell me, why have you come?"
The air zings with a taste of magic. Aelin relishes in the power of the Wyrdkeys, feels them hum to a tune of her own making. And, oh, it is not the Wyrdkeys themselves that make her dangerous - no, it is her control.
"Stop this madness, Aelin," Rowan says, and she takes another step. Let her show them her prowess. "Why?"
"Why what?" She wants to hear him say it, wants to see what he thinks of her deeds. She wants to see what has become of the person who once accepted her for who she was - every dark, monstrous part of her.
His voice does not shake as he says, "This. Conquering a land, marking it as your own. Acting as if you are invincible, infinite - as if you are a goddess."
"Am I not?" she asks idly.
His jaw works, and he bares his teeth. "You are not, Your Majesty. I don't know what happened, but you are not the Aelin I know, and you certainly are not the Aelin I love." Here, his voice trembles dangerously, and Aedion puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Peace, Rowan," he murmurs. "We are not here to fight. Aelin.. what happened to you?"
"This is my duty," she cries. "I am fulfilling a promise!"
"You are not fulfilling some promise, you are taking over the world," Rowan yells, and the leopard hisses at him, tawny eyes brightening in anger. He has crossed a line, it seems. Perhaps their little group does not quite see eye-to-eye. Then he pauses and bows his head. "I'm sorry. I just.. want you back."
The world darkens at the words, anger fizzing through her body, filling her veins. The humming of her magic fills her, thrums in her body and pulses to a frenzied beat around her. The Amulet of Orynth begins to glow.
"You want me back," she says, and her voice is as cold as she feels. An invisible wind picks up around her, and marks on her skin begin to glow, faint blue. The shadows seem to crawl closer, consuming the throne room. "You want me back."
He doesn't - he doesn't want her back, he wants the person Aelin Ashryver Galathynius once was, not who she is. And that makes all the difference.
"Rowan…," Aedion says haltingly to his shieldbrother, but he does not draw his weapon. As much as he is loyal to him, Aedion's bond to her is far too strong. Her lips curl up at the thought.
"I am not yours to keep, Rowan Whitethorn," she hisses, and she draws Goldryn. The red eye gleams the color of blood, awakening, as if it senses her wrath. "and you do not command me." Lysandra backs away slowly, her feline face drawn in a snarl. If Aelin attacks, so will she.
Rowan drops to his knees in front of her and begs. "Please, Aelin," he whispers. "Please."
She steps closer and closer until she stands in front of him, her dress pooling like a midnight shadow around her. "Rowan," she says simply. He does not look, and her voice softens. "Rowan."
She puts her hand to his cheek, and he touches her wrist, shuddering when his fingers meet cool skin as if it will disappear. Her name slips through his lips reverently. He smells like pine, and snow, like...
Her gut stirs. Her kingdom. Terrasen.
"Would you forgive me for all that I have done?" she asks him, hollow and empty and devoid of warmth. "Would you let me go with you - would you take me home?"
"Yes," he breathes, and she can hear the hope in his voice, the trembling of newborn gods and centuries of the blood of nations. Pine-green eyes meet her own.
Her sword bites into his neck as fire erupts across the figure knelt before her. She lashes the light of a thousand sunrises at him, glowing embers and blue flames. Smoke billows, thick clouds of it that taste like lotus.
"This is my home now," she whispers to the ashes. "You were a fool not to realize that."
She raises her eyes and watches Aedion and Lysandra. Waits. But they do not move as she turns her face to the sky, listening. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the voice whispers, and she smiles. They used to call her the champion of light, the child of the sun. Now they call her the queen of darkness, claimed by night. They are not wrong.
"Aelin," Aedion says, and he, too, drops to his knees. He bows to her. Aedion - loyal, bravehearted Aedion, reckless and wild. Lysandra watches, her eyes lightening in thought. How interesting.
"Aedion," she purrs. "Do you wish to join me?"
"For you," he tells her. "I would do anything."
She extends her hand, and he takes it. Then she's crashing onto him like a tidal wave, wrapping light around him. "Swear," she whispers into his ear, her teeth elongating, ears sharpening. He shivers against her. "swear yourself to Queen Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, ruler of Terrasen, handmaiden of Death." A cold wind curls around her shoulders, brushes against her cheek like an icy kiss.
"I swear," he says without hesitation, and the bond that is hanging by a thread between them burns brightly. A promise fulfilled.
"Then rise," she orders. "Rise, and together we will build a court that has only been dreamed of. We will remake the world."
He stands, and the queen and her protector join hands.
Hahahahahaha. Haha. Ha. This was so fun to write - not to mention I had Disclosure - Magnets ft. Lorde playing the entire time (and Halsey ofc) while I was writing and it was so great gah.
I love dark!Aelin. Expect to see more of her.
achieving elysium