Rowan hadn't slept for days. His eyes had circles under them and his legs were weary from walking so far. But he couldn't stop. Every moment he spent resting was another moment that his Fireheart was in pain. So he didn't rest, instead he kept walking towards the growing castle in the distance. Where Maeve was. With Aelin.
Four days later he reached the castle and was surprised to see the gates open. With Aelin locked up, did Maeve not think there were anymore threats? Did she not care? He didn't care. He just kept walking.
He was on the third floor, and still no sign of his mate. Where was she being kept? Then he heard the screaming. All of a sudden his lost energy from months of sleepless nights came back to him and he sprinted to the door where the noise had come from. Rowan was swept into an iron net.
He kicked and screamed, but nobody answered. He growled and tried to send his magic out, but the iron consumed his attempts. He was powerless, and he had failed Aelin. Rowan decided to catch up on some sleep. He dreamed about his wife.
Rowan woke up from his slumber in a dark room. As his eyes adjusted his fae sight helped him make out a shape in the corner of the room. It was the iron coffin. "Aelin." he called. A hoarse voice whispered back, "Please stop Maeve. I'm broken as it is. I don't need to dream about him again."
Rowan almost sobbed when he heard his Fireheart answer. "Aelin, I'm really hear. Please don't break. If you're going to break something, let it be this net I'm in." Aelin cried out in pain "STOP! I CAN'T TAKE IT!" Rowan didn't answer. He didn't know what to say, and when he heard crying, he cried as well.
When Rowan saw the light he was happy. What was left of Aelin said nothing. When Cairn came in, Rowan growled. What was left of Aelin said nothing. No snarky comment, no joke, no sarcasm. His Aelin was gone, replaced with some puppet.
"Enjoying your stay?" asked Cairn, talking to him. "What have you done to her?" was all Rowan said. "Well you'll find out when I open this box, won't you." was his only reply. Then Cairn opened the coffin.
What came out wasn't even recognizable as a person. It was a mess of blood, flesh, muscle and even some bone. Her eyes were blue holes in a red sea, her lips just bleeding masses of skin. She was wrapped in chains that had created giant purple welts on her legs, hips, wrists, and neck. Her hair was cut in a tastelessly jagged bob. The worst thing about it though was her back.
What had once been three scars painted over with words in the old language, dark, beautiful and loving, was now gone. Rowan's lovely art had been destroyed and turned into a hideous blotch of blood with the occasional black mark. Cairn smiled. "Admiring my work, are you? I knew you'd like it. I call it 'Dead to the World'. Lovely, isn't she?"
Then Aelin was led out of the room, being hit by a whip every now and then, and leaving Rowan.
Again.