Disclaimer; I do not own the blossoming Throne of Glass series. I wish I did, but I don't, so I'll have to live with it and be happy with the fact that I can pounce on any and all works published by Sarah J. Maas whenever I please.
Hi scary fanfiction lovers, random people just poking their heads into this website, and all other people who do not fit into those two specific categories.
A random one-shot from Aedion's POV, whilst they are travelling from Rifthold to Terrasen. Did anyone else wonder what they did in those few weeks? After all, being them, there is no way it was just endless riding for the entire time-span. Considering how our lovely Lysandra just adores toying with Aedion, I thought I'd give this approach a shot.
Oh, and for the spoil-sports who will probably be thinking, 'But cats hate water, Fury!' I would recommend you go and very closely study a tiger in a zoo. Not all cats despise water! You stereotypical people.
Anyway, now that I have ranted for a little bit, enjoy!
Of Course
'Aaaugh!' An almighty splash interrupted the peaceful gurgling of the mountain stream. Birds ceased their chirping, animals raced for cover, and the very wind seemed to still for a moment.
General Aedion Ashryver floundered in the freezing current, a string of foul curses escaping his mouth as he searched for a foothold. The rock beneath him was slimy and treacherous, and the rumbling, animalistic laughter to his left wasn't helping. Lysandra.
The fury he felt was just another mask as he finally righted himself, Fae senses half-drowned and sputtering as the burly male struggled to retain his balance. Still the shifter sat, her great, snowy body the picture of feline grace as her own amusement shook her shoulder-blades, pale green eyes crinkling. A snow leopard, her new favourite animal, apparently. Lysandra adored anything with big claws and even bigger teeth.
Without becoming a wyvern, something even Lysandra wasn't sure she could do, this was about as big and terrifying as it got.
Which, of course, suited her just fine.
Aelin, his Queen, his cousin, his friend, had somehow appeared at the former courtesan's side without his notice. Aedion sneezed, at last capable of detecting the not-quite-anything scent of Lysandra and his cousin's crackling embers scent. Rowan, according to his Fae hearing, was within listening range, and trying to supress his immortal humour.
Aedion decided he had had enough. Slowly, he fought his way through the raging current of the stream, dripping water and wobbling slightly with each step. Lysandra and Aelin barely paid him any heed, still laughing at the half-drowned general.
They never noticed when he scooped some of the crystal clear liquid into his massive hands, creeping closer, careful not to lose any.
Nor did they see it coming when he flung the water at the white, furry head.
The shifter roared in outrage, leaping up faster than the average human eye could follow and pouncing on the massive figure in the stream, shoving him fully underwater. Aedion thrashed in the woman's grip, but in this form Lysandra was simply too large for him to move. Especially when he was beneath her.
Lysandra held him under for a few moments longer, those pale green eyes glinting with triumph and mischief, before releasing him and disappearing in the spray of bubbles. Aedion came up only a heartbeat later, sputtering and coughing and swearing loudly. He glanced pleadingly at Aelin—who found this whole situation to be utterly, "roll on the floor laughing" hilarious—but she only regained control long enough to stand and give him a look that very clearly meant, You deserved that, you hulking brute, before stalking over to the damp snow leopard.
Of course she sided with Lysandra. Of course Rowan had to appear from the patch of clear sky overhead in a brilliant flash of light and see just how helpless he was around these two demon-women. Of course Lysandra had to delight particularly in taunting him. Of course Fleetfoot had to come bounding over and smother him before he could make it to the bank.
Thoroughly drenched and teetering precariously on the rocky stream bed, Aedion dragged himself up onto the grass, the absolutely massive golden dog shaking glittering spray all over him as she padded past. He collapsed right where he was, gasping slightly and rolling onto his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his cousin turn to Rowan and engage in yet another one of their silent conversations. He still found that perplexing. Was it because of the blood oath? Or . . . something deeper?
Aedion shook his head and closed his eyes. The fresh, clean scent of the thick mountain grass tickled his senses.
For a moment, he just lay there, breathing in the calm of his surroundings, smirking as he heard someone—Aelin, no doubt—blow a raspberry.
But then he heard a thud and a squeal, and leapt into a battle position. He whirled to face whatever threat had slipped by his Fae defences, but instead. . .
Instead, there stood Rowan, the picture of immortal and unyielding strength, with a certain shrieking queen hoisted effortlessly above his head, as if she were some kind of sacrificial offering. The ancient Prince glanced up her with pine-green, depthless eyes, a smirk sliding across his features as he loosed a short breath and literally tossed her into the icy water, right over Aedion's head.
Aedion twisted to follow the movement, watching the young woman cartwheel through the air and land with a splash right in the middle of the foaming stream.
It was a thing of wild savagery, Rowan's roaring laughter.
Another day with the new Court of Terrasen was drawing to a close.
Hours later, all utterly soaked and shivering, the group sat around the small fire, a still-confused Evangeline stroking Fleetfoot's dry, silken coat. She had slept through the whole event, even when the dog had followed Rowan's hawk to the bloodbath of the water fight.
Rowan was glowering, his slowly growing silver hair hanging limp over his eyes. Aelin was coaxing as much heat as she could out of the small fire, too tired to bother completely wresting control from the natural blaze. Lysandra, mercifully, had shifted out of her snow leopard form and lay close to the fire as the pretty black dog she sometimes became.
And, of course, Aedion was chuckling behind the snoozing "dog" and humming a bawdy tune under his breath, grinning as he plotted revenge.
Of course.
A/N; There you have it, people! Thanks for reading, and please review! If you don't, I'll drag Rakkaan over here and let her maul you. Deal?
*dark shape lurks in the background, flashing teeth and snarling*
Not yet! Go back to your own story!
*snorts irately in Fury's direction and stalks off*
If you want to know who this Rakkaan character is, then go to my page and check out my other stories!
Bye, guys!