This is for my lovely chum Esther, who wrote the prompt for this story.

This place is filled with memories.

There are the memories of the things that happened in this library. The part it played in my life; fighting the Valg here, discovering Dorian's power, finding The Walking Dead. And, more treasured, the simpler moments; sitting for hours with Chaol as he watches me read, hunting down an elusive volume Dorian recommended, the lazy hours I spent in here as King's Champion.

There are the shadows of memories from other libraries. The huge royal library in Terrasen, the fire that leaps from my throat when I scream, the bookstores I have visited over my years in Rifthold. And, more treasured, the simpler moments; sitting for hours with Sam as he watches me read, hunting down an elusive volume I'd wanted to read in Terrasen, the lazy hours I have spent with books as my companions.

There are the whispers of memories from other people. Someone's wife or son or mortal enemy immortalised in a character, deep poetry born of people's tragedy, journal after journal written by historians. And, more treasured, the simpler moments; a bookmark left in an ancient tome from a reader who will never return, fingerprints in the dust along the spines at the back of the library, the lazy hours marked by the worn parts of armchairs.

I feel all these things as I walk through the rows of books. We ride to Terrasen tomorrow, so I have no time to pick up a new book. I am simply walking through these halls for the sake of walking, to feeling the past pressing up against me, to remember the grief I have left behind.

The sun is crawling behind the horizon, and it casts dappled crimson light between the shelves. For a second, the library is burning with sunlight. Orange sun shifts between the books, igniting the floor behind them in a golden hue. The high, arched ceiling is a blaze of crinkled red and yellow, each ornate beam warping the rays so that the mural above writhes. The huge windows at the end of the library screech with light, pouring magnificent colour into the room, framing a hazily silhouetted city. In the blazing dusk, Rifthold almost looks beautiful, the Avery shimmering with gold, the streets carpeted with wine-coloured sun.

My eyes become accustomed to the shifting glow, and for a second I see moving shadows behind one of the bookcases. A librarian perhaps? I wonder if I can get a guided tour. Nothing is more satisfying than hearing people talking about the things they love, especially when it is a shared passion. I prowl closer, not wanting to disturb him if he is reading.

As I approach, I begin to make out two familiar voices. Muffled by distance and the wall of books, I cannot make out the words, but I can distinguish Dorian's soft voice and Rowan's dark rumble. I didn't know they were close. They haven't spotted me yet, and I wonder if I can prank them. Not that the Queen of Terrasen should plan such a thing, but I suppose when you're a fire-breathing bitch-queen you have to live up to your reputation occasionally. I cackle silently to myself as ideas begin forming in my mind. I creep closer, cursing my human form for its clumsiness and mortal attributes. No chance of shifting without being spotted, however.

I slink closer, as quietly as I can, thanking my soft boots for their silent soles. What shall I do? Fake a fire? No, Rowan will know it's me. Push a bookcase over? There's no guarantee they will react fast enough to protect themselves. Perhaps I can just leap out on them? Far too childish, and I don't want to waste such an opportunity like this. Maybe I can fake an injury? Not that I've ever been a good actor…

Tiptoeing to the other side of the bookcase nearest them I continue scheming, eavesdropping on their conversation.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, I just…"

"I know, I know. It will be terrifying to rule. You have to be strong for your people though Dorian. They need to know you will be a good king."

"I don't know if I can be though." Dorian sounds broken and ashamed as he ways this, part of my heart goes out to him. I know how he feels.

"Chaol has a few weeks before he sets off, he can help you. I'm sorry, Aelin has done all she can, but she deserves to get back to Terrasen."

Oh, Rowan.

"I'm not suggesting I keep her here a second longer. She should have gone weeks ago, and I am so grateful that you stayed. All of you."

"It's the least we can do"

There is a long moment of silence.

"Dorian… If there is anything I can do. I know Aelin will have a lot on her plate sorting out Terrasen, but as much as I can be spared, I want to help you"

"You don't have to. I'll manage."

"I know what it's like to be controlled by a monster"

I feel a pinching feeling in my eyes, hot and angry. I try not to think of all the things Maeve made Rowan do. And to give me his blood oath so soon after… he trusted me so much. He must have loved me, even then. Subconsciously, I touch the tattoos snaking down my back. It is easy forget the sacrifice of those around you.

And Dorian, Dorian. Trapped with a monster's mind. Still fighting. He was so much stronger than the king. Perhaps his icy magic served him well. He has endured so much. And he has so much more to do, as King. Perhaps he will help us against the Valg. I cannot guarantee it. He is so strong against them. He has been inside one of their minds. He has lived for all his life with one possessing his father.

If I think about it, in his own way, Dorian has been fighting the Valg for all his life.

I cannot help him come to terms with the things he did when that thing was inside his head. I always had a choice about which blood I soaked myself with. Even as King's Champion, I could choose my actions. I forget they did not have that luxury. It is easy forget the pain of those around you.

But Rowan knows what it is like, to have to do things you hate, because of the monster that has its grip on your blood. He knows the wrenching feeling between your soul and you mind. The endless torment of helplessness. The way you have to keep fighting. What can I do to help them?

My cheeks are seared with tears, hot and angry. I hate Maeve. I hate the Valg. I have myself for forgetting what they have been through. Oh, Rowan.

"I wish you could stay, Rowan, but Aelin will need you. It has been too long since she was in Terrasen, and I think she will need someone to help her."

"I am glad to call her my Queen."

"I am glad you are there for her. You're a lucky man."

I hear Rowan's soft chuckle. "I don't forget it"

They move on, going towards the exit. The sun is dipping deeper, below the window ledge, and I can see the ghosts of stars in the sky. At a distance I follow. Winding back through the castle to our room. The rose-colored light calms me as I walk. I try not to think of the things they said, of the things they have done. I try not to hear the pain in their voices, even still. I try not to think too hard about Rowan helping Dorian, and supporting him, as I blindly ran his country. I fail miserably, aching as I think about all the things Rowan has done. For me, for my friends. It is easy forget the sacrifice of those around you.

I burst into our room. Rowan is standing by the hearth, half-dressed, braced against the fireplace. I rush to him, throw my arms around him. I try to stop sobbing, but all I can feel is his soft skin around mine, the fact he is cradling me without even asking what is wrong, the way he stokes my back tenderly. I am glad to call him mine.

Oh, Rowan.

"Oh, Aelin" he whispers, kissing the top of my head. "Tomorrow, we will go home."

Home. Blue and green and beauty and wilderness and home. With Rowan and Aedion and everything I didn't have before. Home, home, home. How much I have wanted this, feared this. How long I have missed my beautiful Terrasen.

It is easy forget your own sacrifices when you make them every day.