.19.

Professor Flitwick's illness did not generate the same amount of shock or outrage as Hermione's attack on Feyre had. Instead, plenty of people just reasoned it away, as though to make themselves feel better for not noticing how ill he was.

But for all the students from Erilea and Prythian, the news came as a tremendous shock. Professor Flitwick had been their champion from day one. He had been there for them all when they needed them the most. He had stood up for them to the Headmistress, had defended them to the rest of the staff and students. Still defended them, in fact, to Malfoy and posse in particular nearly every day.

"I don't know what I'll do if he dies," Aelin said miserably in the Room of Requirement one day. "I can't lose someone else. Too many people close to me have already died."

"If Professor Flitwick dies it won't be your fault, Aelin," Rowan said gently, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Rowan's right," Aedion said, noticing that Aelin, near tears, still looked unconvinced. "When it comes down to it, I think that Flitwick has been dying for a while."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Do you remember at the start of the year, when we were planning on teaching the rest of the school about the worlds we come from?" Aedion waited until his cousin nodded before continuing. "Professor Flitwick said that he wasn't long for this world. I think he knew, even then."

"Are you sure, Aedion?" Aelin said softly. "I always kinda thought that Professor Flitwick might just have been trying to frighten us."

"I don't think so," Dorian said kindly, passing Aelin a hot mug of coffee. "Old Flitwick has been looking quite ill for several months now. I don't know how or why no one at all noticed before now."

At hearing that, Aelin seemed to sink down into her chair, slouching uncharacteristically.

"Why do you dread Professor Flitwick dying so much?" Rowan asked tenderly. He hated seeing Aelin so clearly upset, so obviously distraught.

"I – I don't know how to explain properly," Aelin muttered, staring determinedly at the ground.

"Take your time."

"Do you remember me telling you about my Great Uncle Orlon?" Aelin mumbled.

"Vaguely," Dorian admitted. "Didn't he die or something?"

"As a matter of fact, Dorian, Great Uncle Orlon was assassinated along with my parents, when your father invaded my kingdom," Aelin said in a tone of icy cold, tears threatening to spill.

At her words, Dorian hung his head embarrassedly. He was still deeply ashamed of his father's actions. He didn't care that his father had been invested and inhabited by the Valg for years. Who on earth would do such evil things? Who on earth could do such evil things without so much as blinking? Even though it was the demon inside him doing those things, not his father, Dorian still hated him with a passion.

"Professor Flitwick reminds me of Great Uncle Orlon. Personality wise, at least," Aelin said softly, voice barely above a whisper. "So kind and caring. Norturing and loving. I never heard a bad word from either Great Uncle Orlon, or Professor Flitwick. Nor a stern or rude or mean or nasty word either."

"But what does this have to do with you not wanting Professor Flitwick to die?" Dorian asked confusedly, ignoring the glares of Aedion and Rowan.

"I never… I never knew where Great Uncle Orlon was buried," Aelin whispered, starting to cry. "I never got to say goodbye to him. Not to him, not to my parents. I doubt Adarlan bothered to bury them in the royal cemetery. But … I never got that last chance to say goodbye to them. And that hurts more than anything. You wouldn't understand, Dorian."

Dorian's heart broke upon hearing it. He'd known that Aelin had been raised by a psychopath upon the deaths of her parents, but he had always just assumed that she'd been to parents' funeral at least. Had assumed that she'd had been able to say that last final goodbye to them. But now, at last, he started to wonder why he'd always assumed that. He'd known that Hamel had found her within hours of her parents' deaths. How could he be so profoundly stupid? He felt like kicking himself.

Rowan glared at him over the top of Aelin's head. "Go, just go," he snapped at him, stroking Aelin's hair. "I'll deal with you later."

Dorian didn't miss a beat. He just stood up and ran. He couldn't deal with all this shit right now. It was just too much. No one should go through what Aelin had. She had been mentally and physically abused by the man who had raised her for years. If you could even call Hamel a man. It was no wonder that she was so messed up in the head.

And Dorian blamed himself. It was stupid and irrational, but Dorian blamed himself. It was his father that had conquered Terrasen and slaughtered Aelin's family. Not him. It was the father he hated that had destroyed Aelin's life. His father, who had stolen Aelin's childhood from her.

But in the midst of his pain and self-loathing Dorian was unable to separate his father's actions from his own. Dorian had known what type of person his father was, he had known of his father's atrocities. Dorian had known of the crimes his father had committed, and yet he had just sat back and he had just sat back and done nothing.

If only he had spoken up, if only he had done something, then Aelin's family might still be alive. If only he had done something earlier, than so many hundreds of thousands of people would still be alive.

His father had conquered their entire continent, had slaughtered hundreds of thousands of people. And then forced millions into slavery. And then his father had seen fit to slaughter those slaves in cold blood. He would not have stopped until the entire world bowed to him. If only he had seen fit to speak up earlier, than perhaps none of it would never even have happened in the first place. And he, Dorian, had had the nerve to call himself Aelin's friend. In some ways, Dorian truly hated himself.

It was stupid and irrational, but Dorian couldn't get the thoughts to leave his head. Was this how Aelin had felt all these years? he wondered as he ran down the corridors. Was this how she had felt for all those years after the deaths – the murders – of her family? Was this how she had felt when there was no one left who cared about her?

Dorian didn't know where he was or where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get out of there. He had to find a way to atone. But the question was how? There was no way in hell he could atone for all of his father's atrocities. But he had to at least try. Dorian knee that he had to try, even if it took until his dying breath.

Suddenly Dorian rounded the corner and ran into something. Dorian looked around, blinking, once more aware of his surroundings. After a moment or two, Dorian realised that what he had ran into was Chaol. What with how busy he had been recently, he had almost completely forgotten about his old friend. He had completely ignored him for a few months now. With a start of surprise Dorian realised that he couldn't even find it in himself to regret their estrangement. Which was odd in itself, as Dorian and Chaol had been friends ever since they were children. Almost like brothers, in a way.

"What, exactly, are you running away from like a bat out of hell?" Chaol asked. There was no judgement in his voice. Only pure curiosity. Somehow that just made it worse.

Dorian didn't say anything for a moment, just stared wildly at his – former? – friend. "Aelin," Dorian finally ground out. "Aelin is what's wrong."

"What's wrong with Aelin? Is she okay?" Chaol asked, his voice and posture tense with worry. It felt like being hit with a lightning bolt. Until that moment, Dorian had forgotten that Chaol was Aelin's ex-boyfriend. Of course he was going to jump to the wrong conclusion.

"No, she's very much not okay," Dorian spat bitterly. "She is sick with worry. Over little old Professor Flitwick of all people."

"It's not that surprising," Chaol said, relaxing instantly. "Seeing him like this probably reminds her of losing her family."

"Aedion's her cousin, and she didn't lose him."

"That's beside the point, and you know it," Chaol sounded uncharacteristically sharp. "Emotional loss like that never, ever leaves you. Aedion spent years believing Aelin was dead. Even now, he's terrified that she'll vanish in a puff of smoke. That sort of pain never leaves you. No matter how long it's been."

"She didn't even go to her own parents' funeral."

"You didn't know?" Chaol honestly sounded genuinely surprised. "Aelin never explicitly said so, but it was pretty simple to figure it out, especially as the timeline in which that old bastard Hamel found her was far too small. Besides, if your father had known that she was still alive, he would have had her killed too. Did you know that her parents and Great Uncle were murdered in their sleep? They were found dead in their beds. Aelin actually woke up between her parents' bodies. Covered in their blood."

"She said that's why she's so upset about old Flitwick. Because he reminds her of her Great Uncle, or something." Dorian rolled his eyes. "Pretty stupid if you ask me."

"It's not that stupid, not when you stop and think about it," Chaol said gently. "When we arrived here, the amount of persecution we all suffered just because we were different was completely irrational. Professor Flitwick defended us although he had nothing to gain from it. Aelin was still dealing with everything that she went through during the war. She was really struggling with everything. Professor Flitwick took her under his wing."

"Flitwick doesn't have wings," Dorian grumbled.

"It's a figure of speech," Chaol snapped. "Besides, I can tell that isn't the only thing that's bothering you. You can't hide anything from me. So out with it."

"When Aelin said that she had never been to her parents' funeral, and that she didn't even know where they're buried," Dorian said heavily, "all I could think about was finding some way to atone for the crimes of my father."

"If you want to be a better man than your father, Dorian," Chaol said coldly, "than I suggest that you be a better man than him. You have it in you to be a better king than your father was. Or at least, you used to."

"Do you really think that I can be a better person than my father?" Dorian said in a timid, little voice. "Tell me honestly."

"Yes," Chaol said frankly. "I think that you do have that potential. What I do not know is whether you've lost that potential after the war. If I'm being brutally honest, sometimes I feel like I don't know who you are anymore." And on that note, Chaol stormed off in the opposite direction, irritated as hell.

Dorian was left staring after him, mouth gaping. He couldn't understand what Chaol was talking about. Was he a better man than his father or not? Did Chaol believe in him or not? Was Chaol even still his friend? Dorian hoped that they were still friends. In that moment Dorian realised that he actually missed his old friend. Why had he stopped talking to him in the first place? He couldn't remember. He couldn't even remember when he had stopped talking to him. It had just happened. But Dorian missed his friend more than he thought possible. Sad as it was, Dorian found that missed his friend more than he missed his own father.

That thought was chased out of his head by the memory of Aelin sobbing for her parents and Great Uncle in Rowan's arms. Had it really been mere minutes ago? It felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. The look of retribution in Rowan's eyes. And suddenly, Dorian was running, desperate to get away before Rowan or Aedion found him. He hated having to deal with either of them when they were in a temper. Seeing either Aedion or Rowan angry was scary enough when it was just the one of them, but when it was both of them together, the effect was downright frightening.