So I've been rather guilty having this stuck on Word docs for so long without uploading for you guys to enjoy. This is a standalone, multichapter fanfic and has nothing to do with my Assassin's series so sorry for those who were looking forward to another one. I guess you could say that this is a alternate version of The Assassin's Brother, but Homecoming is A LOT more killer, angry assassin (Yup, there's going to be slight Chaolaena bashing so heads up).
This was inspired by the part in Heir of Fire where Aelin told Rowan she didn't know whether Aedion would hate her for becoming what she did and I think part of Aelin is afraid of what Aedion would do to her if they met, hence, "an unconventional meeting".
On to the chapter...
...
Slender hands twinned around Aedion's arm, tugging him insistently to a halt. He spun with a scowl. He was already late for his meeting with the captain and had no time to dawdle, nor coin to spare for the vagabonds the slums of Rifthold had in abundance.
A delicate, feminine face peered up at him with a hazy smile. Aedion's scowl dropped. The girl nearly swayed into him, and he reined in a curse, as he steadied her with a hand. The familiar scent of sweet smoke of opium wreathed her like a cloud.
Soft light poured from a neighboring establishment and his keen ears picked up the lilting strains of a harp, hushed laughter. She was so young– couldn't have been older than Aelin– a courtesan already?
Her lashes fluttered up at him, exquisite green eyes wide and gleaming. "Won't you stay, milord?" she purred, slurring the words. The courtesan's shoulders were bared, her thin robe cinched with a string of a belt.
Aedion was no stranger to those activities–had bedded more women he cared to count– but always with their enthusiastic consent and adequate protection.
He gently pushed her away. "Not today." Not ever.
She pouted, full luscious lips pursing in childish defiance. "I will make it worth your while," the courtesan whispered huskily. She drifted closer, trailing a light finger down his chest. She played with the buttons at his naval, crooking a finger inside his shirt to invite him closer. Aedion retreated a step.
"No thanks," he muttered averting his eyes, as the robe dipped even lower. The courtesan heaved a tragic sigh.
"Pity, you're such a young one as well. Knew it was too good to be true." She patted his arm. "I respect your loyalty, milord. Your wife is one lucky woman." The girl gave him a sad smile.
Aedion opened his mouth to protest. He had no wife, he wanted to clarify, but the girl had already left.
He heard the captain behind him as Aedion watched the young courtesan try her luck with another man. "What does it say about your city," Aedion said quietly, "when girls are sold to a brothel to pleasure rich men, just to be cast away once their beauty fades?"
Chaol's jaw was clenched. "Is that not why we are fighting? To change things?"
Aedion watched him. "Is Aelin and your prince the only reason you aid our cause, or is it guilt that drives you for all those years you have neglected your city– your country."
"I am– I was the Captain of Guard," he said through gritted teeth. "The royal family was my concern first and foremost."
"The common people are always to be first and foremost, Captain. Adarlan bred honour and loyalty into you. You expect me to believe you changed allegiances for a woman?" Aedion challenged.
Chaol whipped to face him. "Get one thing straight, general," he breathed, eyes alight with fury. "I have not switched allegiances. I have and always will side with my king." Grief etched lines over his face, making the captain seem almost world-weary, decades old. But he was a child compared to him. The captain won't ever know the hate of his people. The Northern Wolf. Adarlan's whore.
In Aedion's opinion, Dorian's death would be deserved. The Havaillard family could burn for all he cared. In fact, Aedion would dance on their graves, damning them to hell– but his queen would care if her friend died. Aelin would care very much, and Aedion would do anything, even go back into those blasted dungeons to rescue the prince if it saved his queen even the tiniest bit of unnecessary pain.
It had been nearly a month since the captain and Ren had busted him out of prison, but Aedion could still remember the pressing darkness, the dank air, and clank of the iron shackles as it sealed his fate. The only thing that had got him though was thinking upon his cousin's quiet strength. The remarkable dignity it must have cost her to be convicted as a criminal and sentenced to slave for the very empire that had slaughtered her family and kingdom. A princess of her people. A slave.
Aedion's hands shook just thinking about it. They itched to kill, to destroy. A hand strayed to the empty loop in his belt, one that once held the Sword of Orynth. He had failed that mission too. Aelin will never hold her father's sword. Her heirloom.
Chaol stayed silent as if sensing the roiling blackness Aedion's consciousness had turned into.
"Any news of her?" he asked numbly, changing the subject. There had been no news of Aelin since the Battle of the Cambrian Mountains. Not a hint to her whereabouts. It was as if the past few months had been a dream.
The captain seemed to hesitate, and Aedion glanced at him sharply, shoving him into a small street. He surveyed the alley. A scorching glare, a flash of teeth and all the alley's occupants found elsewhere to be.
A wave of hope surged through his veins and for a moment he could finally breathe– breathe through the agony of the past weeks. His eyes fluttering shut, a shudder ripping though his body. Aelin. Steeling himself, Aedion braced himself on the wall and turned toward Chaol, opening his eyes. "Why didn't you immediately say something?" he snapped. "What did you learn of her?" He felt his fingers tremble and he shoved them into his pockets. "I– is she alright? Hurt at all? Gods above," he muttered, pushing off the wall to pace. Maeve had to have done something with Aelin so close to her.
"She– I think she's back," Chaol said faltering under the general's fervor. "There are rumors on the street– that Arobynn Hamel was killed. There is no information on his successor, but we shouldn't get our hopes up. It was just a rumor after all. We will only be able to find Celae– Aelin if she wants to be found."
Aedion squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply. She was finally within reach. Aelin. He took a shuddering breath, his throat closing up and nodded. "Then we'll go for your prince first. It shouldn't be hard to poke around to determine if he's still alive."
The captain flinched. "He will be. Dorian has to be," he said tightly.
Aedion slowly raised an eyebrow. "And if he isn't?"
Chaol tossed him a tired glare.
"We will wait for Ren and his old man, Lord Sol and his brother to join us," Aedion said resolutely. "Then find out whether Ren's spies have discovered anything, before we strike."
"Agreed."
...
Aedion slowed his breathing as he crouched near the castle wall. "We need to climb the fence," he murmured for the benefit of his companions. "Beyond this point is a sewer gate. No guards patrol here." And just because he could, he said, "Perhaps the esteemed royal guards are lax."
Chaol hissed out a breath, but said nothing.
"How did you ever find this place?" Sol inquired, the first civil response Aedion had gotten from him all night. The moon illuminated the trickling, muck-filled river beyond the railings and the rugged stone of the shadowed archway– their ticket into the castle.
"I didn't," Aedion said shortly. "The queen did."
Murtaugh narrowed his eyes. "I thought Maeve was hiding her in Doranelle." Chaol shot Aedion a warning look. Tread carefully, he seemed to say.
The general weighed his options, as they turned toward him for an answer. "There is strong evidence that she returned to this continent," Aedion said at last.
Ravi raised an eyebrow. "So you have seen her?" Aedion didn't answer, and silence reigned for a moment, before Ren came to his rescue.
"I don't see how the Queen's return has anything to do with this mission," Ren said in his usual irritable manner.
Ravi's face shifted into one of quiet calculation. "I tend not to trust things I cannot see with my eyes, Lord Allsbrook. And the gods know I would hold the word of a traitor with as much regard as I would the King of Adarlan's." he said, with a pointed look at Aedion.
Chaol and Ren braced a warning hand on the seething general, but he shook them off with a growl. Sol reached for his sword as Aedion snarled, snapping his teeth at the younger lord of Suria, "My allegiance has always been with my queen. These years have changed nothing."
Ravi stayed far, far away from Aedion's reach–smart man–but his eyes burned with cold fury. "I would trust the word of Adarlan's whore–" Aedion lurched forward, but Ren and Chaol kept a tight grip on his arms, as he strained toward .
Sol clamped a broad hand on his brother's shoulder. "Be rational, Ravi," he murmured. "We can't afford to antagonise him. Aedion is the commander of the Bane and, ultimately, has the queen on his side." The lord of Suria sniffed. "He was always her favorite."
Chaol cocked an eyebrow at Aedion, and he grunted, but offered no explanation. With a final scorching glare at Ravi, Aedion swung himself over the railing. He landed soundlessly and stalked toward the archway. The others followed suit with a little less grace; they made muffled thumps as they landed. The sewer gate groaned as Aedion heaved it open and they all froze. When no resulting shouts came their way, they descended into the beckoning darkness.
"Ren, light a torch," the general commanded. Stone struck stone, a spark, and the damp stone walls flickered into view. The lord's face was drawn behind the guttering light.
"There's something not quite right about this place," he muttered.
Ravi snorted, "Scared of the dark?"
Ren huffed. "Hardly," he retorted. There was a shuffling sound, akin a to something dragged across the floor. Aedion lifted a hand. They quieted. "What–" Ren whispered.
Aedion cocked his head. "Do you hear that?" He strained his ears, as they crept forward, nearing the three passages. When nothing jumped out at them, Murtaugh let out a weak chuckle.
"Well that was anticlimactic." He coughed in the damp, frigid air, the sound amplified by the damp stones. Aedion almost whipped around to order the old man to quiet down but... there was something strange about the darkness of the passage on their left.
His heart thudded, his senses screaming at him to run– to run and not look back. Shadows pulsed, globs of it sliming his way, tendrils testing the air. Ren was right. Something was very wrong. Aedion tried to take a breath– hadn't even realized he was holding his breath until the putrid scent of death and decay drifted into his nostrils, closing his throat. "There's something wrong," he got out, backing away. "We have to leave. Now."
"Seriously?" Ravi demanded. "We came all the way here to cringe away from a few pesky shadows?" A stray breeze moaned around them, dousing the torch, and away with it, their only source of light. They descended into blackness. Aedion could hear the slow trickle of water, Murtaugh's rapid breaths.
"Gods, just light it again," Ravi snapped, but Aedion could hear the nervous energy behind his tone. There was a soft clack of nails against stone. Murtaugh muttered a steady stream of prayers under his breath.
Aedion swallowed, hard. "Light it now, Ren. Light it now!" There was a flare of light and Aedion grabbed for the torch, directing it toward the empty hole of darkness.
He didn't dare move.
"Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods," Murtaugh whispered, as the thing took another step toward the light in Aedion's hand. Sol swore.
Its teeth clacked together and Aedion backed away, the others pressed up behind him. The creature swung its head from side to side searching for the retreating bobbing flame in his hands. It was barely humanoid, smooth grey skin stretched over a distorted body. Its limbs bent like one of an animal, and black fangs glistened in a deep drooling mouth. Fangs used to crush and disembowel.
Aedion's substitute sword whined as he drew it as quietly as he could. "What is that thing?" Ravi whispered. Chaol was pale. The thing lifted its head and sniffed with slitted nostrils. Its eyes were black and cold, unfeeling in its hunger. The stone sparked as it dragged a clawed hand across the ground, strong enough to tear a chunk of stone.
Ren exhaled sharply.
It snarled, baring its teeth as it sank down on its haunches preparing to lunge. Ice spread through his veins, as Aedion calculated their options. If the creature charged them, it would break their legs and gods know what damage those fangs could do. No, he would lead it into one of the side corridors and the others could attack from behind.
The creature's roar echoed in the stones as it sprang. Time seemed to slow as Aedion dove to the side, narrowly missing the claws that ripped past his chest.
Something whistled past his ear and an arrow imbedded itself deep into the monster's flank. It howled and whirled on Aedion, claws tipped with blood. With a flash of steel, Ravi ran it through with his blade, and Sol shuddered as it made a wet, sucking sound. The body slumped to the stones.
"Nice kill," a feminine voice commented from the shadows. They whirled to face the newcomer, weapons brandished. Ren drew his twin swords as Sol and Ravi palmed wicked hunting knifes, their faces like stone. Black blood from that god-awful creature trickled from Ravi's blade, but still she drifted closer, unperturbed, her black cloak swirling around her like a wraith. A crossbow was slung across her slim shoulders and a flash of silver alerted him to more weapons strapped along her frame.
Aedion hoped their dim surroundings disguised his burning ears as he angled his blades into a better position to slice her throat. How had they not heard her arrival? He prided himself on his superior senses. As if in response to his thoughts, Chaol gave him a long look.
"Few roam the tunnels with a ridderak about," she murmured, stopping her advance when a few feet separated them. "You must either be extraordinarily brave or awfully foolhardy." Her cowl covered most of her features, but Aedion could still make out the angular slope of her cheek, the tinge of red to her lips. She prodded the creature's carcass with a boot. "The ridderak didn't bite any of you, did it?"
She eyed Ren as he covered his side and angled his injury away from her. The woman took a step toward the lord, but Murtaugh leveled his dagger at her without a second thought. She stopped and sounded almost reproachful as she said, "Their bite is laced with lethal fast-working poison. Killing me will not save your friend."
The old man wavered.
Chaol gently took Murtaugh's arm. "Let her," he murmured. The woman paused and gave the captain a slow nod. His lips parted and Chaol seemed on the verge of saying something, but he shut his mouth and returned the gesture.
She examined Ren's wounds with deft hands. Ren braced his body against the wall and worked to keep his face expressionless as a stranger's hands probed his body. A lifetime passed before she straightened. "You were only clawed a bit."
Murtaugh let out an explosive sigh of relief. "So he is fine?"
She shrugged languidly. "If he hasn't shown signs of dying yet, he'll probably be fine. But it'll be best if you leave. Who knows what kind of monsters dwell here?" Her words brought a shudder down Aedion's spine even as a memory tried to free itself from the pits of his consciousness. She was so familiar to him somehow. He furrowed his brow as he stared at her. When had they met?
"That sounds awfully like a threat," Murtaugh said softly.
Their surroundings brightened as the woman lit another torch. Strange, Aedion had not seen her light a match. "I know what you are trying to achieve tonight," she said equally quiet, "and trust me when I say that it will not go well for you. If you think the ridderak is the worst you have faced– laughable by the way– I kindly suggest you turn around now."
Ravi spluttered. "If you are implying we are weak–"
"Lord Ravi," there was a smile in her voice, "I mean no disrespect, but you don't even know what you are fighting against."
His teeth shone white against the light as he gaped in silence for a moment. "You know my name."
She emitted an unladylike snort. "Yes, I clearly would risk my neck following strangers around the city. You would be surprised how many tongues will come flapping your way with the proper incentive."
Ren hissed as he pushed away from the wall. "Did the King send you?"
The woman laughed quietly. "No, but I'm curious as to why you would think so."
The lord flushed as the others glared. He'd damned them all by admitting the king was after them.
She reached into her cloak and they all tensed, lifting their weapons. The woman held out her gloved hands, placating. "It's only a calling card."
When her hands reached for her cloak again, Aedion's grip tightened on his knife, but he did not strike. He... couldn't.
A weight pressed hard against his chest and somehow– somehow he understood on an inner level that if he killed her now, he would regret it for the rest of his life. It was a ridiculous notion, but it was as if his cousin was there in the moment. A warm, soft, feminine presence hovered by his shoulder, gold brushing his cheek. Relax cousin. Now's not the time.
The woman's hand emerged with something dull and flat. "Seek the Mistress Brackyn. "
Chaol took the card, his hands running along the embossed edges. "The patroness of arts?"
"Sometimes," she said ambiguously.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sol demanded.
"Let's just say she's a patron of many things. You may find her a useful ally to have." The woman started to back away. "She is very good at getting things done. You must leave before you are caught."
"Why should we trust you?" Sol asked, guardedly.
"I just saved your lives," she said drily, inclining her head toward the arrow in the ridderak's body. "I'm a busy woman, milords. The night's still young. I've got places to be, people to save," the gold sword at her side gleamed, "monsters to kill."
Sol's eyes flicked to Aedion. She knows too much. That woman can't live.
"Where are you going?" Ren asked with narrowed eyes as she edged closer and closer to that damned archway. "Did you not see the thing that just came out of it?"
Aedion shook his head in response to Sol. If she's going into there, she's going to get herself killed anyway.
"I've faced horrible creatures," she told them, "things your greatest nightmares would shield from. This–" she gave the ridderak another kick, "–was nothing compared to some of them." She made to turn away.
Aedion could sense the roiling power in her movements, the potential of danger just beneath her surface. There was something about her that called to him and Aedion took a step in her direction. "At least tell us your name," Aedion said roughly. "Who are you?"
Her feet stalled at the threshold of the archway, and Aedion held his breath. He was oddly at a loss. Even the others quieted. She did not look at them as she said wistfully, "You know my name."
"I–"
Hardening , the woman cut him off. "There are things better left alone, general." She finally turned. Aedion could feel dark, enigmatic eyes peering at him through the hood. "We will meet again," she said with surety, "and until then..." She trailed off and shook her head. "Stay alive."
...
Hope you enjoyed!
OH! And I created a Throne of Glass centric blog on tumblr: wishingonthenorthstar. Or if you feel extra bored, littlebriarosa is my writing/personal blog. Feel free to ask me anything!
-Silverleaf