So exams are finished, and I decided to write another chapter...I hope you enjoy :)
...
It had been exactly two weeks and one day-fifteen days, five hours and twenty three minutes-since Aelin had left for Adarlan. Not that he was counting, of course. Oh, Rowan knew exactly why Aelin had to leave him behind: his fae heritage would have been a fluorescent marker setting him apart. And he would die before stooping as low as eating rats to survive. He was an immortal, and he had standards. He wasn't the carranum of Fireheart, the Queen of Terrasen for nothing. He just needed to get back her throne.
So after sitting on his ass for exactly one day, he had gotten fed up with waiting and decided that he did, in fact, want to help repair Mistward. That had taken him two weeks. And now here he was, bored out of his immortal mind, and waiting for Luca to come back with a message from Varese, the hometown of House Ashryver. Rowan wasn't expecting any help from the royal bastards, but Emrys had pleaded with him to ask for aid. He claimed that Aelin needed allies. He claimed that the Wendlyn royal family would help if it meant dethroning Adarlan once and for all. And he claimed that Rowan was being a selfish arrogant bastard for refusing to see the truth.
Rowan had almost punched Emrys there and then, but he had participated in enough battles and campaigns to know that Emrys was right. When your enemy had access to two wyrdkeys, Valg princes and a large ruthless army, you had to lift up your game. Rowan and Aelin needed all the powerful allies that they could find, even if it came in the form of a cowardly family that had refused to help when their Terrasen relatives were being butchered.
His hawk circled around Mistward, helping with the patrolling, and waiting for Luca's ass to arrive. Rowan chided himself for not going instead. They had argued about it for days, but Luca, Emrys and Mikhail had all agreed that Rowan would probably rip out their royal throats if the Ashryver's had angered him. Rowan disagreed, but Luca kept talking, and talking, and talking. It was so annoying that Rowan simply agreed to shut him up. Luca had smiled, and Rowan couldn't shake the feeling that he had been played by a sixteen year old boy.
Rowan wished Aelin was here. She was always better with people than he was. And recently, Rowan had started to feel an emptiness inside his soul, one that he suspected was due to his separation from her. He still found it strange, waking up and not feeling Aelin beside him, not hearing her sleepily murmur to him to let her stay in bed for just a minute longer. Rowan could feel the part of his soul that was tethered to her call out, agonizing from its separation from its other half. He had not felt like this for centuries, not since Lyria had died. The similarity between his bond with Lyria and what he now felt with Aelin confused him. To be honest, it scared the hell out of Rowan too.
His hawk squawked, the keen eyes spotting Luca, at last, from overhead. Shifting into his fae form, Rowan hurried to greet Luca.
He was lost. Lost to the shadows, to the wind, to the ice. Ice…yes, he could remember the ice once. Freezing the world, and the panic…he had destroyed everything, and no-one was there to see it. No-one except…her. She should have been revolted, should have felt fear, the same deep cut-throat fear that froze his mind, his body, his soul. That same fear he could feel ripping him apart now, exploiting and controlling. Yes, she had loved him, and now she was gone. He felt hollow…empty. Nothing could compare to the hurt of that loss, because no loss could ever be that great, that haunting.
And so the thing inside of him took control, seeing through him, using him. He didn't care…he couldn't bring himself to care. Not even when the thing and him moved through innocents like they were grass, and he was a wild fire, igniting them, burning them out. He could feel the warm blood on his hands, on his body, as the thing and him killed and leeched on life. Again and again and again. Over and over and over. And he found it disgusting, so, so disgusting, that he felt a pinch of pleasure from the acts. They were the only reprieve that he could find from the bitter melancholy, the deep tear in his soul, and the oblivion that he had fallen so deeply into.
"…Isn't she meant to be in Wendlyn?" The man with the shoulder length dark hair, the one there on the day Aelin had snapped faltered. She could practically hear the wheels turning in his head; practically see him putting the puzzle pieces together. He knew who she was. Aelin smiled, vicious and full of promise. I will kill you. The man sank to his knees.
Aelin studied the man, taking in the brutal looking scar that decorated the length of his cruel looking face. Adarlan will do that to a person. "My queen," he whispered, staring at Aelin's eyes. Ashryver eyes, of brightest blue, ringed with gold.
Aelin glared at Chaol, demanding answers. "Celaena…Aelin, this is Ren Allsbrook."
Aelin Ashryver Galathynius lowered Goldryn, and sheathed him at her waist.
Ren Allsbrook. The name sounded familiar. Aelin remembered an Allsbrook…from Terrasen. Ren…Ren was from Terrasen. The slight tilt of his eyes, the grim unsmiling mouth. That was all that remained of the Ren that Aelin had known from her childhood. The spoilt, annoying bastard. And yet, here he was. And so was she.
Here was a man that had survived the Terrasen butchering, had joined up with the rebels and had fought against Adarlan's rule. Aelin had almost killed an ally. She would not forgive Ren for his involvement in Nehemia's death, but she could not ignore someone from one of Terrasen's royal houses either.
"Ren, this is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. The rightful queen of Terrasen."
They wound up at Aelin's old apartment, the one she had shared with Sam. Being back here brought back memories, both good and bad. There was the couch that Sam had kissed her so fiercely on, the very same couch that Arobynn had sat in when he had delivered his gut-wrenching news. I'm so sorry Celaena. But he wasn't sorry. It was all his fault, and one day, he would pay. Aelin would be the one to do it-gutting him, skinning him, bringing him closer to hell with every single painful second. Oh, it would be gloriously long, without any gloriella to numb the pain. And Aelin would enjoy every moment of it.
The apartment looked pretty much the same since the last time Aelin had seen it, and yet it felt different. It felt lived in and smelt of people that she knew, and yet didn't. Yes, that was her precious teacup, and was that...
Fleetfoot ran towards her, she golden fur a blur as she jumped onto Aelin's body and knocked her onto the ground. Aelin laughed as Fleetfoot licked her face-excitedly and desperately, as if she was afraid Aelin would leave her again.
They clung to each other, the queen and her dog; both joyful at their reunion, as if a missing part of their souls were complete again. It was the first time Aelin Ashryver Galathynius had felt true happiness since she had left Rowan and stepped onto the shores of Adarlan.
Later that night, Aelin snuck through her apartment, trying not to wake Ren up. She needed to speak with Chaol-alone and without Ren eavesdropping throughout the entire conversation. Aelin crept to the couch that Chaol was asleep in, and tapped him softly on the shoulder. He was instantly awake, his hands reaching for Demaris beside him. "Shhh," Aelin whispered. "I need to talk to you."
Chaol gave Aelin a sceptical look. "It's the middle of the night, Celaena. Some people need their beauty sleep."
Aelin glared at him, and Chaol sighed. "Where do you want to go?"
Where do you want to go? It was such a simple question. Where would Aelin take the man that she had once loved? Where was a good place to give him back his ring, and to tell him that they would no longer work? Certainly not to her bedroom: that was too intimate. But they couldn't talk here, and outside was out of the question. Not the bathroom, nor the kitchen, or godsforbid-the closet. Bedroom it was, then.
Chaol followed Celaena into her bedroom. He felt weary, and worried. Why did Celaena wake him up in the middle of the night? What was so important that Celaena couldn't wait until tomorrow to tell him? Celaena sat on her bed, her blue satin night gown a surprising contrast to the purple of the bed sheets. Fleetfoot jumped onto her lap, and Celaena stroked her fur softly. Celaena pointed to the chair, and Chaol carried it from beside Celaena's desk, and placed it in front of the bed. He sat opposite Celaena, waiting.
Aelin brought out the ring that she had been fingering on the trip back to Adarlan. The amethyst ring that Chaol had given her on Samhuinn, it's presence both a comfort and a reminder of what she had lost and gained since meeting him and Dorian at Endovier that day. She had debated over what she would say to Chaol once she had returned. She decided that she would have to get it over with sooner, rather than later. Why delay the inevitable?
"Chaol," she began, slowly stroking Fleetfoot's fur. "I know that it wasn't your fault that Nehemia died."
Chaol froze. Was this what the nightly waking was about?
"But what happened…it changed me. I know you cared for me, and I cared for you. I still do."
I love you, Chaol wanted to scream. I love you Celaena. Please stop. Stop, stop, stop. It was the moment Chaol had been expecting and dreading ever since he had sent her to Wendlyn. He knew deep down that Aelin would never choose him, and he had come to terms with it. But hearing it from her own mouth…
Chaol opened his mouth. "My trip to Wendlyn, my experiences there…" Aelin continued, before Chaol could argue. Rowan's face flashed in Aelin's mind, and she could feel him here, urging her to continue. "I changed…for the better. And I realised that what we had…it was special, but…"
Aelin paused, her mouth suddenly dry. She had run out of words to say. She didn't know how to express feelings that she couldn't come completely to terms with. Not yet. Silently, Aelin leaned over and returned the amethyst ring back to Chaol.
...
I hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to review/fave/follow :)