Newly arrived in Terrasen, Aelin thought she could cope with the past. Right up until she saw the dried blood.
And because every other fanfiction does this, I'm pretty sure I have to say that all characters belong to our lady and savior, Sarah J. Maas.
Thanks so much to the reviewers who reviewed the last chapter, loving the support!
To whoever reviewed the story idea (sorry, my computer's acting weird and it won't show me the reviews or who reviewed it, but my phone gets all the updates): Great idea! I can definatly work on that, but it may be a while before I can get it out. (I'll try to find a way for Dorian to be alive. I have some ideas running around in my head. We all love Dorian. No guarantees though). Until then, I hope to appease you all by adding more one-shots.
The manor was overgrown with wildlife. It teemed with plants of all types native to Terrasen. Trees roped themselves around the house, the bush so thick that she had to cut through them with one of her spare swords. She would never insult Damaris or Goldryn by using them to cut plants like the average machete. They were far more precious than that. Aelin continued through the unkempt house and hovered right before the kitchen doorway. It was a simple wooden door decorated with small wooden carvings in the shape of swirls. It was a door she had walked through many times, often to steal some chocolate cake after dinner.
Aelin wiped her eyes. She would not cry. She had accepted her mistakes from the past, right?
She had stolen away from their camp two days away from Orynth to come here, to the manor where everything had gone wrong. She had reasoned with herself that she had simply needed some closure after what had happened in the spring. No matter what she told herself about closure and whatnot, she couldn't find it within herself to turn the doorknob. She couldn't do it. She wasn't strong enough to take one step into that kitchen. Aelin sighed and quickly wiped her eyes with her fingers again. Nothing but a coward, she thought and smiled bitterly. How ironic that she was so scared of the scene that lay beyond the door, so scared when she had created scenes such as that. Had little children been ushered away by nursemaids when they had heard her clopping up on a horse? Most likely. They had most likely watched the assassination and become a monster because of her.
Aelin crashed down onto the rotting wood of the floor, sat crisscross, and stared at the kitchen door. It was a barrier between her and the nightmare. She felt like a child that hid under the bed when storms thundered and the sky lit up.
She had snuck out of the camp when everything had fallen silent and her travelling companions' breathing had regulated. Rowan hadn't even stirred when she had disentangled herself from the sleeping roll beside him and stalked off into the woods. She supposed it was a compliment to her sneak ability, though honestly she suspected he'd find her soon. He was probably up and searching for her right now in his hawk form.
Probably worried sick like a motherly hen because I snuck out after bedtime.
Aelin snorted and heaved herself up with a grunt. She was a queen. And not just any queen, the Queen of Terrasen. And she would not be afraid. Aelin reached for the door handle. She turned it and beheld the scene inside.
It looked like a historical slaughter fest. Blood had dried on the walls, creating a diverse and painful dotted pattern that centered on one focal point. And there. There, strewn over the floor like some prized display, lay the skeleton of Lady Marion. The skull lay a few feet away from the body, surrounded by a dried pool of crusted, brown blood.
Aelin, Queen of Terrasen, sank down to her knees and stared blankly at the divided bones of her nursemaid. And she stayed there.
The sun had nearly risen when the sound of wings flapping near the entrance of the manor met Aelin's ears. She didn't acknowledge the flash of light that followed it, nor the quiet footsteps that padded up behind her and halted.
No, her mind was centered on the atrocity that lay before her.
It was foolish to blame herself. She had been a child, albeit a demi-fae with fire magic, and a child who had lived an extravagant life could not have withstood the force of a grown man. If he'd even been a man.
And even though she knew she was a fool, some small, irritating, traitorous little part of her heart still held Aelin responsible for what had happened that night in the very manor that had now brought her to her knees.
"Aelin," Rowan whispered. It wasn't a question, it wasn't a plea for her to come back, or a command to face the truth. It was a reassurance. It was so she knew that he was there for her, as always.
He moved to sit beside her, but she held up her hand and tried to swim out of the riptide that had caught a hold of her.
"I just… I had to see," she said and stood up. Rowan shifted closer to her and caught hold of her hand. He didn't ask her questions, but she could nearly feel his curiosity flow through the air around her. It was layered with numerous feelings of pity and odium. Not directed at her, but more so of the sight of Lady Marion. It was pity at the sight of her severed skeleton, and odium at the thought of how someone could've done this to get to a child.
She herself was split. If it had been a demon, or a man acting out of misplaced loyalty for the king of Adarlan, then she loathed the man who had clopped up on horseback. But if it had been a hired killer… Well, assassins didn't ask sentimental questions. She knew this all too well. It might as well have been her. A scene flashed before her eyes, obscuring the skeleton. A crying child and the child's parents, begging. Not for themselves, but for their sole heir. They were begging her to let their seven-year-old son survive. The contract Arobynn had given her had stated that she had to kill all family members…
A shudder ran through her and Rowan's grip tightened on her hand. She had not forgiven herself for the monster she had been. She had only forgiven herself for turning into it.
"Fireheart…" Rowan whispered, trying to break through to her. All she could see was her blade plunging into the mother's throat as the son and father had watched… She'd ended it quickly for the father and child… Not out of pity, but at the disgust in their eyes… She had not been able to take it…
"Aelin!" She blinked at the sound and the movement of Rowan gripping her shoulders and shaking her. Rowan's pine green eyes bore into hers and his silver hair gleamed in the rising sun. Her head drooped down and hit his upper chest.
"Together, Fireheart. Remember," he murmured into her hair. She nodded in understanding and clasped his hand, tugging him out of the deteriorating manor. She had to get away from the kitchen.
Each step away from the building held some invisible hold on her sanity. The walls in the manor had been suffocating, even though the rooms were quite large. She had never liked small spaces. Past experiences with cages and sewers swayed her already nonexistent optimistic view on them.
She led Rowan to a trail that cut through the forest, a trail she had walked on many times with her father and mother in the summer when everything and everyone was carefree and light, so unfamiliar with the horrors that were to take place in the years to come. As they walked through the pines, she could've sworn she saw little eyes watching them through the branches of the trees and heard the occasional rustling of shrubs. Rowan seemed unaffected by the sounds and sights and continued to relent to being pulled through the forest to some unknown destination. They walked for about fifteen minutes on the trail to the destination that had taken her seemingly forever to run to. They were both silent throughout the hike.
And it was silence that found her when Rowan reached towards one of the branches on a tree beside them and tugged a faded cloth off the tree that looked as though it had been ripped straight off the wearer. His knuckles were unnecessarily white as he clutched the cloth and looked straight at her.
"It smells of you," he said carefully. Aelin nodded and mutely watched as he took a few steps forward towards another tree with particularly sharp branches and found a ripped cloth in that one as well. They continued down the trail to the river and both of them noticed the numerous pieces of that shredded nightgown in numerous trees. It was strange to think that, even after ten years, the forest still had signs of that night, signs of her. It confirmed that what had happened had indeed happened. That everyone had been murdered and was gone.
All the while, Rowan looked as if he was about to murder every single branch for scratching her. It was a balm to her heart, to know that someone in the world cared for her. It was a blessing to have him as her carranam. He was her gift from the gods, despite him being a territorial fae bastard.
They came to a stop at the cut rope bridge. She sat down between the posts, dangling her legs over the cliff as the nostalgic river breeze swept up to blow at her hair. Though she had nearly drowned in the River Florine, she had always loved the river and had often picnicked beside it with her family and Aedion in the summers. She gave Rowan a grateful look and patted the spot beside her. He conceded and dropped down beside her, weaving his arms around her shoulders. She leaned her head against him and nodded her head for him to commence.
'Why?' was the first, logical question. Why? Why had she gone to the source of her collapse? Because she thought it would bring her closure. Her gut had drawn her to the place. She had some misplaced trust in her gut, apparently. She looked at him then, and saw the words written in eyes.
I would've gone with you, if you'd asked me to.
Well, you did turn up eventually.
He glared at her and turned to face the other side of the ravine, where the rope bridge hung like a ladder down to the river.
"When will you start realizing that your court is here to help you?"
"My court is here to help defeat the demon king and afterwards help rule a kingdom. You are here to help me. You are my carannam for a reason."
"I can't help you if you decide to sneak off in the middle of the night without alerting anyone or at least taking someone with you so the forest or something in the forest doesn't attack you." She huffed and didn't reply, for he knew what her response was to every statement concerning her safety. He would just never listen.
"And I should add that the carranam bond flows both ways, Princess."
The burning within her had quieted with his words, but she couldn't forget Lady Marion. They sat quietly for a few more minutes and watched the river that had swept her away flow fast and strong between rocks and fallen debris. It was a while before he spoke again.
"Aelin, it's never a good idea to go back to the site of a nightmare. I speak from experience from… from when I found Lyria. You should have told me, maybe even Aedion, that we were nearing this place. If he weren't so mesmerized by Lysandra, he would've noticed that we were close to the manor." He tilted her chin up with his thumb and looked into her eyes as she lay her thoughts out for him to pick up at any time. When he lowered his thumb, he pulled her close and whispered into her ear.
"We do what we must to survive. We've both seen death and caused death, whether it's for others or ourselves. But you've shown me that to dwell on the past is to not move on. We're nearly at the top of the abyss, Aelin."
She sat there with him, drinking in the sight of the river from the top of the ravine.
Nearly there.
A phantom wind embraced her and she rested her head on Rowan's shoulder, thankful to have him to help her climb out of the abyss.