Disclaimer: See previous chapters. Still not mine.
TRIGGER WARNING: Moderate torture and blood from a bite. Please read with caution. Also NOTE: "Metacarpals" are the part of the bones in the fingers that go from your wrist to your knuckles.
Chapter 6:
The chains smacked and scraped harshly against the surfaces as she was briskly ushered through the halls. Her labored breathing echoed within the confines of the hood.
Five right turns. Four left. Two staircases.
When her closest guards tighten their grips slightly on her arms, she suspects they're approaching the destination. Familiar rough stone turns to slick marble beneath Aelin's bare feet. A sharp stop, and the sack is torn from her head—taking a few hairs with it.
The well-known scent of fresh cotton and honey hits a split second before his voice rings throughout the throne room in recognition, "Mama!"
Cold dark of nightfall engulfs the spacious room, disrupted only by a few flickering flames. One of which danced wildly in a short brassier directly beside the arm of the occupied throne—beside the ancient queen and the child on her lap.
Panic shot through Aelin at the sight. From head to toe, she scanned her son's form intently. There was tautness straightening his posture but thankfully—for the sake of the female holding him—there were no signs of injury. Still, Aelin's lips pulled back into a defiant snarl behind the mask as she finally lifted her gaze to Maeve.
Shadows scattered across the stern face of the monarch. The train of her thin onyx gown hauntingly pooled on the dais around her feet as though spun from her magic rather than silk. As Maeve's fingers clenched on the throne arm's edge, someone's foot slammed into the backs of Aelin's knees. The mask and irons smacked against the marble floor sharply as several hands forced her the rest of the way into a complete bow.
Rhoe's surprised gasp reverberated in the quiet space. He pointedly scolded the guards, "That's not nice!"
A brief huff of laughter escaped Aelin at the innocent remark. She and Fenrys had just started teaching Rhoe about when it is or isn't appropriate to hit; it seemed he was beginning to understand well enough.
A grunt was pulled from her as another hand buried itself in her hair and jerked her back up, settling her on her knees. She lifted her gaze back again to Rhoe, who was squirming to get down. Maeve easily kept hold of him though and her mouth curved into a mirthless smile as she said, "I discovered a secret from my heir today," Her hand abandoned it's grip on the throne to reach behind the toddler. She lifted up a lovingly worn book from her lap, "Your gift."
The sight of the familiar pages caused a knot to form in Aelin's core.
"Of course, while this was very interesting," The dark queen weighed the book in her hand, "What I discovered from Fenrys intrigued me more. As Rhoe—I believe it was—proved further when you entered here... you've been seeing him behind my back. Frequently, from Fenrys' report. And not merely visiting, but filling his head with this false reality," Her eyes narrowed dangerously, "And it is false, for the child is a prince of Doranelle, my heir, not a prince of Terrasen. And not yours, though you seem to have forgotten that part of our bargain."
Aelin's knuckles turned to white as the skin strained tightly over them at the possessive words, but she kept silent.
"I will ensure you remember after today. I have already dealt with Fenrys for his treachery and have modified my command to him concerning the child," Maeve kept her attention on her prisoner and slightly caressed Rhoe's soft tunic clad stomach, "Fenrys was to cease bringing him to you once the child was no longer in need of nursing. I believed that would be understood. But apparently, my wolf needs a constant leash. Thus, as of today, he is forbidden from aiding my heir to see or have any form of contact with you."
"And as for this," The storybook was lifted higher and Maeve gave it a quick inspection, "This is now but a memory."
Aelin started forward with a silent cry of 'No!' on her lips but was yanked back firmly by her guards. She could do nothing but watch as the book that was toiled over for almost a year, that told of a story more precious to her than any riches, that became the security blanket and hero of her baby's sleepless nights, was fed into the fire.
"No! My book!" Rhoe's squirming instantly changed to struggling then, arms reaching out desperately for the book that was quickly fading to ashes in the brassier, "THAT'S MY BOOK!"
He looked back and forth between Aelin and the fire in building distress. Crocodile tears soon begun to race down his delicate flushing cheeks. One hand shoving at the resolute arm around his waist, the other still reaching toward the flames, he wailed, "MY BOOK! MAMA!"
A short sob broke out of Aelin at the pure heart-break in his voice.
When the last of the book crumpled away, Rhoe dropped his arm. He leaned forward and threw his hands over his eyes. Wailing cries slowly morphed into deep breathless sobs. Tear droplets that escaped his trembling fingers polka dotted his light brown trousers.
"Starlight," Aelin called gently, shakily, "It's okay, the book can be re-made—"
"Re-made? By who, Aelin? Certainly not by you or Fenrys," Maeve interrupted coldly, "As I stated before, for his part in it, Fenrys has received his punishment. Don't think that this—," She gestures to the still flaming brassier where the book's ashes lay,"—was all there was to yours."
The grip on her hair finally releases and Cairn steps around to face Aelin—the familiar heavy hammer in his hand.
The remaining guards shove her down again, bent at the waist. Cairn kneels to the side, still facing her, and snatches the chain linking her wrists. He gestures to one of the guards behind her and he comes to her other side. Together they flatten out her hands on the smooth tiles and Aelin snaps her head back up. She protests in horror, "You're going to make him watch this?"
Unphased, the dark-haired Fae queen only glowered in answer.
Aelin's eyes dart down to her son, and she makes herself swallow her rage at the situation. Rhoe sniffed pitifully and wiped at his running, red tipped nose. Tears still dribbled down his face and Aelin softened her tone again, "Rhoe. Close your eyes," His blue-eyes stared down at her questioningly but she pressed on, "Close your eyes. Don't watch, Starlight."
Sliding the young prince closer on her lap, Maeve ordered, "Begin Cairn."
Once she saw Rhoe cover his eyes again, Aelin ducked her head. She stared at the loose threads hanging from the hem of her battered white shift. There were four of them, all different lengths, laying on her thigh. She counted those and the others resting on her opposite leg as she felt the cold metal of the hammer touch the base knuckle of her index finger.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale—
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap... WHAM! CRACK.
Aelin jerks and clamps her jaw shut hard on the shriek that wrests its way up her throat, muffling it as best she can.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Nine threads on the other side of the hem.
The hammer slides over the base of her middle finger next.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap... WHAM! CRACK. WHAM! CRACK.
The three-year-old jumped at the first agonized scream that tore out of his mother and he dropped his hands from his wide eyes.
A string of saliva hung suspended out of the mask, a trembling breath causing it to waiver and fall.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
Aelin struggled to regain her bearings after the unexpected double hit. Cairn had broken the expected knuckle and then three of the bones that met together at the base of her hand. Son of a—
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap...
Aelin twitched reflexively as the hammer tapped on her thumb's base knuckle.
Inhale, exhale, inhale—
SNAP!
This time Aelin's tortured scream entwined with a frightened one. She panted roughly through the pain that radiated from her crooked pinky finger.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap...
"No!" Came a high pitched tearful cry from the dais, "Stop!"
WHAM! CRACK. WHAM! CRACK. WHAM! CRACK.
"MAMA!" The two screams coincided again. Rhoe struggled and pushed desperately at the pale arm holding him, terrified sobs wracking his small form, "LET GO! I WANT MY MAMA!"
Arm vibrating with the constant rolling pain shooting through, Aelin dropped her weight to her opposite elbow. Her breaths labored out of her hotly. She would kill them for this—for making him witness this— and she would take her time.
Links clattered and a small cry left her as Cairn carelessly pushed her shattered and swollen hand back towards her. Aelin took in the multiple colors blooming on her broken hand. She couldn't move her fingers, couldn't feel them, only pain.
The guard's grabbed her untouched hand and spread it out like the first one. The weight of the hammer's steel head ran over the skin, tracing her hand.
"Hmm, which one should I start with this time..." Cairn pondered excitedly, entirely ignoring the ongoing hysterical crying behind him, "Want to pick the finger, Princess?"
Her blazing blue-eyes met his hungry ones. Aelin jerked her hand to show him which finger was reserved for him but the guard held her in place. Cairn's grin only spread wider as he seemed to read the message in her eyes. He returns his attention then to his work. Hammer stopping on the little finger's top two joints.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap...
Aelin tensed. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale—
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap...
A nervous exhale tumbles out.
WHAM! CRACK. WHAM! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK.
Her voice pierces the night air again as the thumb's base knuckle then remaining metacarpals were all smashed.
A different sharp cry sounds from the throne this time. Aelin lifts her head, sobbing through her teeth, in time to see two little feet hit the top of the dais. Maeve sits alone, gripping her forearm where blood seeps out from two small puncture marks.
Rhoe makes it all of three steps down— wiping his mouth— before Maeve waves a guard over. He's scooped up in the male's arms with his foot in mid-air over the last step. He twists and pushes against the guard's grip in frustration, "No!"
The guard strains his neck back as one of Rhoe's flailing arms almost nails him in the face. He looks to Maeve for instruction, wincing as the toddler's screaming rises in volume again.
Maeve presses the fabric of her skirt against her wound and says, "Take him back to his room," Her soulless gaze turns down, "Say goodbye, Aelin."
A deafening rushing fills Aelin's ears then and her guards increase their grip as she strains forward. Everything goes silent. There's movement around her but all she sees is her son.
His mouth is open, calling for her. His light, tiny eyebrows furrowed. Dazzling eyes swimming in terror. Soft silver strands swaying over his forehead. Shaking hand outstretched over the guard's shoulder toward her. She's unaware if he can even hear her but she says her love to him over and over. He blinks— wobbling lips still forming her name in a scream— as they turn the corner into the hall and more tears slide down adding to his soaked cheeks.
Aelin falls limp. Three drops of water hit the floor below her but the sudden numbness doesn't allow more than that.
There's a pressure at the back of her head and soon the mask falls from her face. The grips on her shoulders ease when the toes of Cairn's boots come into her line of vision. One boot plants itself onto her chest and shoves her onto her back.
The two guards shift their holds, now pressing her onto the pristine tiles. Sounds fade back in.
"—where the keys are, Fire-bringer, and I will consider sparing you from this portion of your penance," Maeve offers.
Aelin ignored her and watched as Cairn accepted a gleaming metal bowl from a pale servant. The third guard took a spot behind her. The warm skin of his calloused palms came upon either side of her head, restraining. Cairn walked steadily back over, eyes on the bowl.
The substance's strong scent within it assaulted Aelin, registering in her mind; Acid. Her chest tightened and hands spasmed as she tugged against her snug shackles.
Cairn knelt beside her and set the bowl down with a plink.
At Aelin's silence, Maeve sighed, "Your will would impress me if it didn't exasperate me so," She tilted her head considering the bound female in the dim lighting, "On the day the child was born, I made you an offer; the keys or the child. You chose the keys. And yet, you still managed to have them both. It doesn't work that way, Aelin," The crackling of the fire was the only sound as she let the statement sink in, then finished, "This is your punishment, as well as insurance that you will uphold your end of the deal from now on," Her skirt rustled quietly, letting it drop from her injury, and settled back against the throne, "You may proceed, Cairn."
Aelin saw him, out of the corner of her eye, pull on a thick glove and out a tattered rag from his pocket. The liquid made a light splash as he dipped the cloth in. She swallowed audibly and resumed focusing on her breathing.
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
Cairn reached down and braced her eyes open then lowered the soaked cloth.
Before one last ear-splitting scream, the shadows of the writhing fires on the stone ceiling, the guard's stoic face, Cairn's eager expression, and the sagging cloth were the last things Aelin Galathynius saw for a long time.
A/N: Hi, hi, hi readers! Just want to say thank you again for all your continued support. You all keep me writing! I don't want to give too much away for the story so I'll just say; don't give up hope yet! Many good things are VERY soon to come. And if any of you are feeling that Aelin being permanently blind is a dealbreaker for you, (spoiler) don't worry, she won't be. Not for the rest of the story anyway ;) Love you all! PLEASE KEEP THOSE REVIEWS COMIN'! Until next time~ V