~21~
Athril wasn't sure why he was still hiding from everyone, especially when there was currently an emergency war council that he could have been a part of. Should have been a part of. He knew that people would be beginning to ask where he was by now, but at the same time he couldn't care less.
He still didn't know how to forgive himself, how to face his queen, knowing what the consequences of his actions were. If he hadn't insisted on bringing Sam Cortland to Rifthold with him and the Thirteen, hadn't made sure that he had been placed in the dungeon cells after it had been made clear that he was a traitor, then Terrasen wouldn't be facing war so soon after the last one. Especially while they were still rebuilding what had been destroyed.
Athril had heard what Chaol Westfall had told him about not blaming oneself for the mistakes you made and moving on, but Athril couldn't bring himself to forgive himself. He still very much blamed himself for his mistakes. He should have seen better, known better.
Athril didn't see it himself, but he was not the only one to blame for bringing Sam to Orynth. But he was the only one who was blaming himself. The only one who hated himself for it and was refusing to leave his palace suite of rooms.
Despite, or perhaps because of his desperate sulking streak, Athril was the only one who was not willing to see that life stood outside the palace, in the city. Unable or unwilling to see that the citizens of Terrasen adored their queen and were more than willing to fight for her. They were willing to fight for her, even if he was not.
"Still sulking about, I see," a voice said as someone entered the suite. "Talk about pathetic. I thought you were more of a man than this. I thought you were stronger than this."
Athril looked up from where he was lying on the bed, groaned, and then looked away again. It was though the sight of the white-haired witch queen gave him physical pain to add to the mental pain he was enduring.
And in a way, that was true. Seeing Manon just brought back the memories he was trying to suppress. Of the shame he was struggling to forget.
"For such a illustrious warrior spy of legend, sulking this is worse than contemptible. In fact, it's downright laughable," Manon mused aloud. "What must the celebrated Brannon Galathynius think of you now? What must he think of the way you failed his last living descendant, his kingdom?"
Athril just grunted again and attempted to shield his eyes from the light leaking in from the open doorway. After spending so long in the pitch black had wrecked his eyesight. Manon had also struck upon the one thing that kept him from killing himself right now. He was far too ashamed to be able to face Aelin in this life, and was far, far too ashamed to face Brannon in the Afterlife.
"Ashamed, are we?" Manon purred silkily. "Too ashamed to face your queen? Too ashamed to even attempt to atone for a sin that my entire coven also made? A sin we committed in order for you to be able to bring the Cortland boy North, a journey that went much quicker due to the fact that you were flying on wyverns?"
At that, Athril stopped his groaning and grunting. He had been so completely self-absorbed that he had entirely forgotten that Manon Blackbeak and the Thirteen had been the ones to transport Sam Cortland and himself northward. If it weren't for them, the journey north would have taken far longer that it had.
And in that moment, Athril had to wonder that if it had been just him and Cortland traveling by themselves, would Cortland had made it clear that he was a traitor before they reached Orynth? If that had happened, Athril would have had the time to take the proper precautions before they made it so far.
"I made the same mistake you did, Athril," Manon said a bit more gently. "I, like you, trusted Sam Cortland. I took him at face value, and did not even attempt to look beneath the surface. Yet, I am not beating myself up over it. None of the Thirteen are. So why are you? Why can you not forgive yourself?"
Athril merely looked away, unable to explain himself, even to himself. "I always knew that Crochan do-gooder nonsense would rub off on you, Manon," he muttered unwillingly. He didn't deserve sympathy. He didn't deserve to have anyone in his life, least of all someone as wonderful as Manon.
"I don't deserve you, Manon," Athril muttered, still not looking at Manon. "I don't deserve happiness, not after what I did."
"For gods' sake, Athril!" Manon snapped impatiently, finally losing her temper. "All you're thinking about is yourself! What about what I want? What about what I deserve? Have you thought about that at all during your moping and sulking? No! Have you thought once about your Queen, who is living in fear for her life? No! You have not! Because all you have thought about, all you have bothered thinking about, is yourself! Have you thought once about the army that is about to march on us, the lives that will be lost? No, you have not! Talk about selfish! Right now, I don't think I can be with someone who is as self-absorbed as you are. I can't be with someone who doesn't put me first. I cannot be with someone who doesn't see me as a priority, someone who doesn't love me the way I love them."
At that, Athril finally looked up in shock. Never before had Manon said that she loved him. Never before had she implied that she loved him the way he loved her. He had been in love with her for months now, but had never dared to openly admit his feelings. The closest he had come had been that last day in Oakwald forest, the day before Sam had been ousted as a traitor. In the aftermath of what had happened, Athril had almost forgotten the hope he had felt in that moment. But hearing Manon's implication that she loved him, brought it all rushing back.
"Does that mean… Are you saying… You love me?" Athril whispered, starting to go into shock. "You love me the same way I love you? Forever and always?"
"For heaven's sake, Athril, be a man for once. Be the old you. The Athril I know you can be," Manon snapped, growing more impatient by the minute. "Besides, I never said that I love you. Just that I can't be with someone who doesn't love me. I've already been there once already, with Dorian. He didn't love me. With Dorian, it was more about ownership. And I don't think you love me either, right now, judging by the way you are acting."
Athril felt his heart plummet in that moment. He should never have told Manon let he loved her, should never have let himself be so vulnerable.
"I wouldn't worry about something so trivial as feelings right now," Manon went on mercilessly, not a single hint of affection in her voice. "Her Majesty wishes to see you privately."
Aelin. To officially meet her for once and for all. After all that he had done… After all that had happened… The mistakes that he had made… Athril felt sick to his stomach at the mere thought of seeing her.
"I can't," Athril forced the words out, feeling as though he were choking on them. "After everything that's happened, after failing the way I have, I just can't. I can't face her. Not now, not ever."
"We've been in Orynth for nearly a month," Manon said in a monotone. "And apart from that first day where the boy was revealed to be a traitor, you haven't had a single audience with the Queen you claim to serve and obey. You can't put it off forever, Athril. The longer you do, the worse – the harder – it will be for you."
"You don't understand, Manon!" Athril yelled – shouted at her, really. Athril was even more ashamed of himself than he was in that moment. He had never shouted at a woman before in his life. "You have no idea of the sort of mental anguish that I'm going through. And I can't bear to face her. Not now, not ever. I don't care if you call me coward for it. I don't care about any of it. Not anymore."
"So you would rather be a self-acknowledged coward for all of eternity?" Manon said, a hint of shock in her tone for the first time. She hadn't realised that Athril's sense of self-loathing ran so deep. If she had, she would surely have checked in on him far sooner. She had thought that Athril would have gotten over it by now. Instead, she had allowed him to wallow, which may very well have been an extremely bad idea.
"Yes, I would," Athril murmured, moving his gaze back toward the window. "I just can't stand living anymore, but I'm too cowardly too end my own life."
"I hadn't realised that your mental health had gotten so bad," Manon said quietly to herself. "I was hoping that it wouldn't come to this, but it's time for you to meet your Queen."
The words must have been some sort of code that Athril didn't understand, couldn't understand, as the door to his suite was suddenly broken down by Asterin and Vesta. Athril sat bolt upright in shock at the sight of the two witches he had not seen in weeks now.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Athril snapped, shocked out of his mind. "Why can't any of you just leave me alone, the way I want you to be left alone?"
"You've been left alone for too long," Vesta said, stony faced, stony voiced. "If you are left alone any longer, you're likely to do something stupid. Beyond stupid."
"What do you care what I do," Athril grumbled loudly. "You have made it perfectly clear that you never liked me."
"I don't like you," Vesta snapped angrily as she stomped forward. "I never have. But at the very least, you're slightly more tolerable than the Adarlanian King. But as I'm sure you already know, orders are orders."
Asterin smirked at him, a smirk that was tinged with a sense of menace. Menace and loss. "Unfortunately for you, we have our orders. And we don't exactly care what you want anymore, not after you've spent the majority of the last month doing nothing but think about yourself."
Athril was about to protest but before he could so much as open his mouth, the two witches had stalked forward and yanked him harshly off his bed.
"What on earth do you think you're doing?" Athril snarled as the witches began to drag him across the suite and then through the palace corridors.
"Aelin wishes to see you, Athril," Asterin snapped at him. All of the Thirteen were out of patience with Athril. In fact, many of them had only put up with him so long for Manon's sake alone. But patience was certainly thin on the ground. "So you are going to see her. We're taking you to where you've been summoned to see her."
"Don't my wishes count for anything in this?" Athril inquired, more than a hint of bitterness in his tone. He was certainly growing tired of having his wishes and wants ignored. Right now, Athril wanted these witches to leave him alone for once and for all.
"No." Vesta grunted. "Everyone in this entire damned palace is getting quite fed up of your sulking. It's been making everyone miserable."
"I haven't been that bad!" Athril protested, struggling as they dragged him along, nobles and servants alike grinning and leering at him.
"Yes, you have," a new voice said. Athril started, jerking against the witches' tight grip on him. From the corner of his eye, Athril saw a familiar face glaring harshly at him.
Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin's consort. If he was now dealing with him, than he was in more trouble than he had originally thought. Yes, Athril thought in that moment. Everyone in the palace really was fed up with his behavior. He'd just been far too stupid to see it. Too stupid and too self-obsessed. He could see that now.
Rowan Whitethorn was pissed off. After all he had heard about the legendary Athril he had honestly expected more from the warrior. He had assumed that warrior would be more like the heroes he had admired so greatly while he was growing up. But over the last month, his admiration had gradually faded.
He had certainly never expected Athril to lock himself away, blame himself so entirely for something that wasn't his fault. Yes, he had been pissed off about Athril, Manon and the Thirteen bringing Sam Cortland to Orynth, even before Cortland had been revealed as a traitor. He had been worried about how his presence in the city would affect Aelin, given that she had once loved him, and had spent the last few years believing him to be dead.
But he had not expected Athril to sulk so thoroughly about it, when it was so clear that they had been taken in. He had assumed that be made of sterner stuff, be more of the warrior that he had once idolised – not so much of a coward.
Both he and Aelin had had enough of his brooding and moping. Out of respect for the warrior, Rowan had tried to convince Aelin to give Athril the time to come to terms with what had happened on his own terms, to give him the chance to be the warrior he knew Athril to be – but her patience had long since evaporated, as had his.
He knew Chaol had attempted to convince Athril to come to terms with what had happened had get over it, but he hadn't. He had merely ignored Chaol's advice and continued to brood.
So, in turn, he and Aelin had decided to give up on Athril, had drag him back to the land of the living – no matter what it took.
As he and the three witches led Athril into the private chamber where Aelin was waiting for them, he saw Athril pale, as though he was starting to realise the level of trouble he was in.
