I really should be working on Lost and Found, to all you readers who followed me from Young Justice Fanfiction. However, I've recently been under attack by plot bunnies, and homework, both of whom have kept me from writing another chapter until I get 'em outta my system (And by that, I mean completing them). This was done a little while ago, and I figured eh, what the heck? Might as well publish it.
It's done, sort of (I'm not really planning on expanding it), and there's no harm it sharing it for others to read.
On with the one-shot!
DISCALIMER: I own nothing. I think that's kind of obvious, just saying.
Rowan only felt a sense of horror as he watched her. The flames surrounded, illuminating her figure. She wore a black cloak, and her curly golden hair had a crown of fire on it. He couldn't see what else she was wearing because her back was to him.
He could see her fragile shoulders, her slender frame. She was too young. Too young. Yet there she was, standing alone against the King of Adarlan and the might of the Valg. Flames surrounded the room, wreathing it in fiery light.
He watched as the king bellowed something unintelligible, then was thrown back from the sheer force of the heat around Aelin. Rowan's Aelin. The one he had sworn to protect. The blackness of the Wrydgate shown behind her, the one dark spot in which he could see swirling shadows held at bay by her light.
She was fierce and brilliant, and Rowan wondered why did the brightest lights always burn the fastest? He supposed it was because the world snuffed out their light, until it was eventually extinguished. He could see three glowing white pieces in the gate. The spaces where the keys were long ago broken off.
Except there were three slivers of stone in the spaces, visible by the white outline from the whole they were taken from. Aelin turned to Rowan in that moment. The gold in her eyes was fire. She had a small smile on her face that was sad.
She looked at him, and Rowan looked at her. She was battle worn, that much was clear. She wore a tattered black tunic, gray pants, and black boots with brown laces, long black sleeves, and dark brown gloves.
Her sword, the one she had given to her so long ago in that cave, was at her feet. Next to it was the sword of her father that Aedion had given to her when he saw her again, shortly after her return form Wendlyn.
Her curly hair framed her face, and she was still smiling that damn smile at him. She turned away from him, shaking her head ever so-slightly, as if she was telling him to stop. Aelin lifted her arm slowly, palm facing forward toward the gate. Rowan was too far away, but he was running as fast as he could towards her. Something in him told him he'd be too late. Aedion ran behind him.
He watched as the King of Adarlan roared, yelled something about ending the line of Brannon (And it was true-she was the last of Brannon's line, the last of the Galanthysius House) and swung the sword down on her head.
Rowan screamed, as did Aedion, who was running a little ways behind Rowan. Then the world seemed to explode, the image of the sword coming down on her head burned into Rowan's mind.
A blinding flash of light happened. Rowan's ears were ringing as the last clear image went through his mind. Aelin collapsing on the ground, the fire around her flaring brilliantly, the keys glowing bright white, and then nothing.
Rowan sat in her tent, the army camped around her. She was looking at him hesitantly, like Rowan was still her teacher. The thought made Rowan's lips curl in amusement.
"You called me here, Aelin?" Rowan asked.
"I-I think I know what Elena meant when she mentioned it what it would take to close the Wrydgate. I understand now what I have to do." Aelin was definitely nervous.
Rowan raised his eyebrows, "Are you planning to do something reckless?"
She cracked a weak smile, "You know me, I'm always planning to do something reckless. But no, that's not it. Well, I suppose it is, in a certain way, but that is not the point."
Now Rowan frowned in concern, "Aelin, is there something I should understand?"
"Rowan, it is difficult to explain." Aelin answered immediately, then she took a deep breath. She shook her head slightly, and closed her eyes for a few brief seconds. She nodded to herself, and said, "You won't understand. Not until the end."
Rowan gave her a curious look. Her mouth was sealed shut, and it was clear she wasn't going to talk any longer. Her eyes were watery, but they were glancing at something else. Aelin's eyes had flickered involuntary onto her table, clustered with battle strategies. They fell on a single letter, and Rowan looked at warily. He glanced at her, and she seemed to be silently begging him not to ask; it was written all over her face.
There was a plea in her eyes, as well as a kind of hidden agony. Whatever it was she knew, it was not for him to know at the present moment. Rowan pursed his lips. He was annoyed she didn't trust him enough to tell him, but the fact that she wasn't telling him earlier. Rowan ignored that thought, as it nagged at the back of his mind, just out of reach.
Giving one last cautious glance at the letter, Rowan left.
Rowan opened his eyes slowly. His mouth was dry. He was caked with sweat. And he was as sore as an immortal fae warrior could get-which was pretty damn sore. He barely remembers much of anything that happens next.
They-meaning him and Aedion-met Chaol and Dorian. Both look pretty grief stricken, and it doesn't take much to figure out what happened. Apparently, they never even found the body. Aelin was dead. The sentence was foreign and strange in Rowan's mind.
Aelin never seemed like someone who would die. It had been a bit impossible to imagine her dead. Now she was dead . . . and there was nothing Rowan could do. The rest of the day, Rowan wandered around in a bit of a daze.
A letter is found. It's that damn letter, the one Rowan saw the night before Aelin . . . It was her will. Some things are said, others are discovered. Aelin reveals what it else it would take to seal the keys back into the gate-her fire, and her life. Rowan felt a numb sense of shock. That single, damn sentence she told him rang through his head.
"You won't understand. Not until the end."
She knew. She knew all along that she would die in order to close the gate. At that moment, Rowan had never wanted to hug her or strangle her more, then yell at her for what a stupid self-sacrificing idiot she was. How could he not have noticed? Rowan cursed himself, he was an immortal Fae warrior! How did he miss what she was planning to do? Why hadn't he asked her about that damn letter?
A simple question could have saved her life. The logical part of Rowan knows that's not true, really, her life forced was still needed to close seal the keys back in. And if Rowan, and the others had known, they would have done anything to stop her, making her job all the harder. Rowan knew this. However, in wake of her death, logic, and reason had somehow left him.
Rowan closed his eyes, breathing deeply, remembering her words. He could still hear her saying the words, see her mouth move to form them. Rowan knew he would be haunted by what he failed to see. That single damn sentence ran through his mind, taunting him.
"You won't understand. Not until the end."
Rowan wished with everything he had that he didn't understand.
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