~17~

Athril didn't know where his life had gone so desperately, so horribly wrong. He had been alive for longer than any other living being in Erilea, and yet no one had any stinking idea. He had lived for nearly three millennia now, making him one of the oldest living Fae in the world. But according to the stories, the myths and legends that both he and Brannon had created, he, Athril, had died millennia ago.

At first, the lies and deceptions had merely been to keep him safe from his beloved Maeve. Yes, Athril had once dearly loved Maeve, and it was the biggest regret of his life, considering what she had eventually become. At the time he had had no idea whatsoever that Maeve was queen of the Valg, not queen of the Fae. But even then, he had seen traces of those spider-like tendencies, the streak of cruelty that run as deeper than a well, writhing darkness within her, and just knew that no matter how much he loved Maeve, he could not spend another moment with her. Despite his love for Maeve, Athril suddenly knew that he had to leave her. And the best chance of Maeve leaving him alone in peace lay in faking his own death.

And so, he and Brannon had devised a trap for Maeve when the three of them infiltrated the armies of the Valg, leading Maeve to believe that she had killed her own lover. It had been such a simple trap that Athril sometimes still had trouble believing that Maeve had fallen for it. After that, Athril had had no choice but to go into hiding, lending his assistance to Brannon, and more indirectly to Terrasen, wherever possible as spy and courier.

Despite everything, Athril had never minded the fact that everyone believed him to be dead in those early days. He had devoted himself to serving King Brannon and Terrasen. And when Brannon was on his deathbed, he had made Athril swear that he would watch over and protect his descendants. Athril had felt as though he had no choice but to agree, for he had never had a family of his own, and he had always loved Brannon's children and grandchildren as though they were his own.

But once Brannon's grandchildren had passed into the Afterworld, Athril had allowed his memory to fade away as well, as never had a close relationship with any of Brannon's other descendants until now, until Aelin. And so Athril's continued existence had eventually faded into nothing but myth and legend. In fact, Athril had been happy to let himself fade away into anonymity. What with Maeve being as dangerous as she was and not agreeing with world politics, Athril was finally willing to let everyone believe the rumours of his death. Besides, he was tired of being a spy, tired of being a double agent on occasion.

And then Adarlan had invaded Terrasen ten years ago, and Athril had felt the need to come out of hiding, felt the need to protect the kingdom his dearest friend had loved so fiercely. Before Athril had been able to step out of the shadows and make himself known to the world once more, the entire royal family of Terrasen – Brannon's last living descendants – had all been assassinated. He had grieved for Brannon, as his friend, knowing just how much his friend had loved his family and his kingdom, not knowing that young Princess Aelin – now Queen Aelin – still lived.

So Athril had remained in the shadows during the war and re-emerged only once Erawan and Maeve were dead and gone once and for all. And once the war was over and peace was declared, Athril had once again resumed his place in Terrasen's court as spy and double agent. For a while after the war had ended, it seemed as though there was no need for spies or double agents in this new world. At first he didn't care though, he'd been that glad to see a Galathynius restored to the throne of Terrasen, he had been willing to do almost anything to serve the Crown. Athril would have welcomed any position that had been offered to him.

After almost a year of boredom, Athril had finally been dispatched to Rifthold, Adarlan, to deal with the rising threat against his Queen and her consort. As this was his first time playing spy, playing double agent in so long, the case was of higher importance and much higher stakes than he had imagined or could have possibly predicted.

Athril had always considered spying to be like a game of chess, a game of strategy and tactics. At the time Athril had thought he had known what he was doing going into it, but ever since returning to Terrasen a fortnight ago he had realised that he had been in way over his head. Lyria had always held all the cards, even if she hadn't known it at the time. In a way Athril felt that Lyria was better had spying on people and manipulating them than he was, which was a fact that he bitterly hated.

Athril had only ever wanted to serve Terrasen's monarchy, to make himself indispensable to the royal family, to make them see why Brannon had placed so much faith in him, so much trust in him. Instead his actions could very well lead to the downfall of the last surviving members of Terrasen's royal family.

He had found himself to be a much worse spy than he had been three thousand years ago. A much worse double agent than he had been three thousand years ago. Athril didn't know how he would ever be able to look his queen in the face again, his shame was too great.

That day Athril had told Lyria that Aelin and Rowan were expecting their first child together, he had just been bluffing. He hadn't actually known that Aelin was pregnant, he had just been trying to get Lyria to show her hand, trying to attempt to get to her capitulate and stand down. He had had no idea that Lyria would retaliate like that, had had no idea that Sam was already so thoroughly under her control.

If Lyria had truly managed to gain the upper hand and managed to carry out her threats against Aelin and Rowan, it would be all his fault. Athril would have no one to blame but himself. He knew that no one blamed him for what had happened, but deep down he would never be able to forgive himself for the mistakes that he had made these last few months.

His actions had put Aelin and Rowan and their unborn child directly in harm's way. He had brought a traitor straight to Orynth, and had presented the traitor as a firm ally. A firm ally that he had 'saved' from the claws of the enemy. He had brought Sam Cortland directly to Orynth, believing that the compellability magic that Lyria had woven over him had broken. He had brought Sam right to Orynth, not knowing that it was exactly what Lyria and the boy had wanted, what they had needed in order to carry out the next steps of their plans.

Athril hadn't been able to believe the horror that he had felt that day in the throne room when he had realised that Aelin was indeed pregnant and Sam had been discovered as a traitor. He hadn't realised straight away that the spells Lyria had cast on Sam were still intact and in working order. No, to his greatest shame he'd thought that the years Sam had spent imprisoned had made him grow bitter and had warped his mind almost beyond repair.

The arrival of Endymion Whitethorn had court at changed that perception entirely, particularly when he had explained how Lyria's gift worked. He had been stupidly naïve when he had thought that simply removing Sam from Lyria's constant influence and presence would break the spells that Lyria had placed upon him. He had been dreadfully naïve to think that mere distance would be able to remove any lingering traces of Lyria's magic.

Yes, he was glad that Sam had been revealed as the traitor he was and imprisoned before he could pass any pertinent information to Lyria. He should he glad that that the brand of compellability magic Lyria used only created a one way bond when used on humans, he should be glad that Lyria still didn't know that Sam had been captured.

But he wasn't. Because it was all his damn fault. None of this would have happened if he hadn't been so damn soft hearted. He should have left Sam to Lyria's whims in Rifthold. But no, he had to be so dam soft hearted and just had had to feel sorry for him.

He should have known better than to let his emotions get the better of him during a mission. And in that moment Athril swore that if he ever received another mission, another spying job, he would not let his personal feelings get in the way of the job. He would remain professional at all costs. For he had let his emotions get in the way of doing the job this time, and look what it had gotten him. A lying, spying traitor who was more than willing to plunge a knife into his back, and had fallen in love with a witch. He didn't even know if Manon would even still want him after this debacle.

Athril must have been talking aloud to himself without realising it for he was surprised to hear a voice reply. "I wouldn't worry about that if I were you, Athril. Despite the divide between the species, witches are still women, and women are notoriously forgiving, especially when the people they love are involved," the voice said calmly.

"I must be dreaming," Athril muttered to himself, shaking his head as though to clear it. "I could have sworn that I just heard voices in my head. Brannon always did say hearing voices no one else could hear was a sure sign of madness."

"You're not dreaming, and you're not going mad," the voice said. "Open your eyes, Athril, and look around yourself for once and for all."

As slowly and hesitantly as possible, Athril opened his eyes. There, crouched before him, was Chaol Westfall. "There you are," Chaol said faux cheerfully. "Not so mad now, are you?"

"What are you doing here?" Athril questioned, trying not to let his anger show. He had come to this very spot to be alone after all. So he wouldn't have to interact with anyone. How dare this mortal man interrupt his peace and quiet? "How dare you—"

"How dare I interrupt your sullen ranting, your bitter sulk?" Chaol finished the question for Athril, making him snarl. "For your information, every single person in this palace is sick and tired of your gloomy and hostile behaviour. If you want to brood, that's fine by us, but at least have the decency to keep it to the confines of your suite, and not bother anyone else by it."

Athril just stared at Chaol in utter shock and disbelief. When was the last time someone had spoken to him so honestly and frankly? It must have been one of the witches on the trip northward, he thought in surprise. But when was the last time a human had spoken to him like this? For the life of him, Athril couldn't remember. He just stared at Chaol, wondering where he was going with this.

"Yes, you made an error of judgement when you brought Sam here with you," Chaol said calmly, though his voice was edged in bitterness. "But then again, a lot of people have made mistakes. I know I have. My biggest mistake was blindly serving the monster who called himself King of Adarlan, and his son Dorian for so long. And you don't see me beating myself up over it anymore – I accepted my mistakes and flaws and moved on with my life. Even Aelin has made mistakes in her life. So you've made one dreadful mistake about this. But continuing to beat yourself up like this isn't going to change anything. Be a man and attempt to fix this whole mess so Aelin won't have to live the rest of her life looking over her shoulder in fear. If you actually want to do something constructive, there's a meeting in the council chamber in half an hour to discuss our next steps."

At that, Chaol turned on his heel and walked off in silence. Athril just watched him go, wondering just where the man had gotten a personality transplant, then he wondered whether he was the one who needed the personality transplant.