Aelin's Coronation

AN: So the idea for this fic came about when I was trying out a writing app and this was the first thing I thought of. I never intended to do anything with it, but I started adding to and revising my original 500 words at about midnight last night. This was the result.

I'm also posting this on tumblr (link to be added later) and AO3: /works/11520768 (username is ashryverblue if the link doesn't work, which I suspect it won't) so any kudos/hits/notes etc on those platforms would be appreciated if you can be fucked.

For those who have read or are interested in my other ToG fic, Slipper of Glass, I may try to work on the half of Chapter 3 I started back in March 2016 again tonight, so there is the slight possibility of an update. I also have a few ideas for some ACOTAR stuff which may appear here and on AO3 at some point this summer.

Thanks for reading!

Her name was Aelin. Aelin Fireheart, Aelin of the wildfire. And she would not be afraid.

Aelin had been waiting for this day for years. She supposed she had always thought she'd be... wiser by now. That somehow, the pain and blood and tears, the wars, the years of fighting would have shaped her into a queen. A Queen of Terrasen. But she wasn't. Or at least, she didn't feel like it. She had seen her coronation day as some far off point on a distant horizon. She had imagined a different version of herself, an Aelin that was graceful, polished and conscientious. Court trained. Regal. But underneath her elegant robes, she still felt like the person she had always been. Yet everything had changed, and she would never be any different, but she would never be the same either.

She'd never be ready for this, she'd never be prepared. She'd never know completely what she was doing. Perhaps she would learn as she went along, she mused. Perhaps she would get to a point and something would click into place. That was the thing, she didn't know. Maybe that was what was so overwhelming about it. Maybe that was the whole point.

Aelin walked slowly towards the throne. She could see her court, and the courts of the rest of Erilea. She spotted Prince Galan of Wendlyn, her cousin and ally standing tall and proud. The King and Queen of Eyllwe, smiling warmly, and the recently reinstated monarchs of Fenharrow and Melisande. Ansel of the Western Wastes was also in attendance, fiercely resplendent in the wolf carved armour Aelin had first laid eyes on in the Red Desert when she was just seventeen. Aelin almost missed Elide on Ansel's other side, and Aelin noticed with a start that she was crying, tears of joy streaming down her pale face. And there was Queen Manon Blackbeak, and the rest of her Thirteen, to represent the Ironteeth-Crochan Witch Alliance. Manon's eyes met Aelin's as she passed. Asterin Blackbeak's intense gaze burned as she flashed Aelin a wicked grin from her Wing Leader's side.

Dorian, not more than a foot from Manon's side, smiled kindly at her. Aelin beamed right back at her friend, remembering briefly the spoiled Prince who'd freed a self serving assassin from Endovier more than two years ago now, and she felt a strange rush of gratitude towards him, and a twinge of pain in her heart for all they both had lost. At his side stood the Captain of Adarlan's Royal Guard, and Aelin surprised herself by wanting to throw her arms around him. For being what she had needed, once. For setting her life on a course that had in part lead her to stand where she stood today. Chaol did not smile, but he did not need to. She felt, looking at him there, that he understood. He saw her as she was, and he accepted her for what she was. Aelin could see in his all too familiar brown eyes that he wished her well, and she hoped with all her heart that he was happy.

Aelin stepped up onto the dais, facing the throne. The throne that had been hers since before she was born. She could feel the weight of her people's eyes on her back, the gold dress she wore cut low, her scars and tattoos in full view, golden hair plaited back so her pointed Fae ears were also visible.

An assassin's hood no longer sheltered her from judgement, from sight. She gave her people everything she was, as they gave her all the trust they had left to give in return.

Aelin glanced to Rowan and despite his impassive expression and strong warrior stance, his green eyes held love. To her left, she saw Lysandra, Evangeline hiding in her skirts. The shifter smiled widely at her queen, giving the reassurance that only a true friend could.

She reached the Throne of Terrasen, and the Heir of Fire, the Queen once of Shadows, but now of Light, turned to face her Ashryver cousin, the sword of Orynth sheathed at his side and the Terrasen crown jewels in his hands.

It had seemed fitting that Aedion be the one to conduct the ceremony. He was a prince and warrior general of Terrasen, and there was no one else Aelin felt could do it. Aedion had been here for her all along. He had truly seen her from the beginning and loved her even when they were apart, and the kinship and camaraderie between them could never be replaced or replicated.

Aelin knelt before the throne, her cousin behind her.

"Do you, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, swear blood, loyalty, and honour to the kingdom of Terrasen?"

The pause felt like it stretched out for an eternity. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was it. This was what she had been fighting for since the beginning. Since Nehemia's death, and perhaps even before. Aelin sent up a silent prayer to honour and thank the Princess of Eyllwe. She wished her friend could be here today. This was what she was meant for, this was the path she had been walking for years, long before she was willing to accept it. This was for Nehemia. This was for her parents. This was for Sam. Most important of all, this was for herself.

She felt so aware of herself in that moment. Of who she was and what she was. She was the same girl she always had been. Headstrong. Passionate. Beautiful. And yet she was also a woman, a woman who was utterly different and new. Honourable. Brave. Powerful. That was the woman she saw in the faces of the people she loved when they looked at her. Her allies and friends. Her court and her family. A woman worthy of being called Queen.

"I, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, swear my blood, my loyalty, and my honour to the kingdom of Terrasen. I promise to serve and protect its people for the rest of my immortal life, and I will use every last drop of my power if that's what it takes to do so." Aelin bowed her head.

Aedion lifted the crown from the platter beside him and placed it on her head. Aelin felt the weight of the crown, the responsibility it held that had once frightened her so much, but no longer. She could bear it, she could hold it, and she would not falter.

"Rise, my queen," said Aedion.

So as she rose, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius turned to face her people, and she was not afraid.