Disclaimer: See previous chapters.

A/N: Warning: Mild language.

CHAPTER 13

With two weeks to go until Coronation day, Aelin's days became increasingly full.

They were filled with fittings, rehearsals, listening to bricks of pre-ascension paperwork— including the official designations of her new court members— endless council meetings for pressing end-of-war matters that ranged from the kingdom's shortage of food to visiting the wounded soldiers still in the palace's halls and arranging for the families of the deceased to be notified.

In the middle of all that, Aelin was doing her best to give Rhoe the attention he needed whether by cuddles or playtime. Plus, either carrying or keeping hold of his hand everywhere she went.

While busy, the days were pleasant overall.

But the nights were filled with terror.

Sunsets began to tie knots in her shoulders. The endings of dinners made her struggle to keep her meal from reappearing.

Once her family would settle into their beds, she'd take to studying the brail books from Wendlyn until her chest would tighten from the unwelcome thoughts that began to creep in.

Then she took to pacing. Pacing the room until the breeze she was creating woke her son.

After the first and only night of attempting to get Rhoe to sleep in his own room resulted in nothing but tremors and tears— and not just Rhoe's— the grand chaise lounge next to the balcony doors in their bedroom became his bed.

Aelin looked up from her studying at her desk at the delicate snore and smack of lips that issued from her four-year-old. A soft smile graced her features when he readjusted in his sleep to stretch out. When Rowan reclined on that chaise, he had to keep his knees bent or his feet would hang off the end. But another of Rhoe could fit on there before the bottom of its length was reached.

She wondered if he would get hers or his father's height once he was grown. Her smile changed directions. She didn't want to think about him growing up just yet.

"Are you coming to bed anytime soon?" Aelin jumped at Rowan's whisper and tender caress of her shoulder. He apologized and quickly pulled away.

Since the end of the war, Aelin had been pushing herself to allow her mate's touch. Some. But she hadn't managed to exactly embrace it yet. She at least wasn't snapping his head off at unexpected touches anymore. A major victory in her book.

But Rhoe wasn't warming up anymore to Rowan and she faulted herself for that… partly. Fenrys presence was also a catalyst. Yet, Aelin knew she hadn't been doing much to encourage any bonding between them with her discomfort still on full display whenever Rowan was around.

So, she pushed herself. But she couldn't help the reflex. Not when every shadow still held Cairn's confident figure and every touch sparked memories of unspeakable pain and shame.

Not when she had yet to uncover the truth about the past five years from her husband.

Dismissing his apology with a non-committal grunt, Aelin went back to her books. She flipped past the first page of a new chapter. "I'll join you after I finish this chapter."

"Must be an intriguing book to keep you up past two."

Was it that late already? She reached out to the brass clock to her right and felt for the flat antler-shaped hands. Big hand on the… four… and little hand… past the two. Huh. She hadn't even realized it'd been that long.

Now that she thought about it, her back was incredibly stiff. She placed the book's ribbon in the page and leaned back to stretch against the chair's cushy buttoned back with a muffled groan.

Rowan kept his steps and voice quiet, mindful of their little one, as he headed back to the bed. "Why are you keeping yourself up so late recently?" He stopped at the nightstand and put out the candle with a puff of his magic. "With all the meetings and appointments you're being dragged through, I'd expect you to be snoring at dinner."

Aelin rolled her head toward the balcony doors. The moon was shining brightly enough for her to make it out tonight despite it only being half-full. She wished she could make out the stars.

It'd been years since she'd seen them.

"The only time I see anything perfectly anymore is in my sleep," She reluctantly confessed, "And most of what I dream…" She shut her eyes, then turned them to Rowan's still outline sitting on their bed.

"They're all about Doranelle?"

She nodded and chewed on her lip. "It makes me feel like that's—" A cold laugh, "Like that's my only reality."

Rowan lowered himself slowly against the headboard. "Because that's the only thing you can see clearly."

"I can't see your face, your expressions, Aedion's, Lysandra's… Rhoe's." She looked toward his sleep-still blanket covered form. "I can't see what anyone's wearing. The colors of… anything. I can't even see the damn sky!"

An owl's distant hoots drifted into the room and she raked her fingers through her hair, shoving it back from her face. "What I always see though, in vivid detail, is their faces. Maeve, Cairn, Con—"

Aelin wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold. Exposed. She wouldn't finish that list.

"It makes me question if this isn't the dream instead. And every time I wake here, I'm really falling asleep."

Her breathing hitched. Shoving against the memories and the desk, she walked into the bathroom.

Aelin was the only one that heard as she leaned against the closed door and quakingly whispered, "I don't want to wake up to them anymore."

A finger with her day-old blood under its nail, stroked down her cheek and lingered across her collarbones. "Where should we start today, Aelin?"

Cairn's pain-promising voice had Aelin lurching up—dagger drawn— and assessing the shadowed room. Movement directly to her right had her twisting body and blade.

"Easy, Fireheart," Rowan soothed from beside her on their bed, shutting a worn book in his lap. "You're safe."

Panting through clenched teeth, Aelin shifted her blade away to the various dark shapes around. All furniture: Her desk, dressers, chairs, bookcases. No sadistic monsters.

A soft sigh and rustle of blankets to her left had Aelin lowering her dagger. The scent of honey and cotton drifted to her; her son. Pine and snow on her right; her husband. Her family. There was no one else.

Shakily, Aelin sheathed the dagger and slid it back under her pillow. Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she continued to scan the room and muttered, "I heard him. I felt—"

Rowan set the civic book he'd been skimming— Rare magic Vol. II: The outlawed— down on the nightstand and watched his mate absently check herself over for her old bonds; Something she did many times a day now when she thought no one was looking.

"That has to be a record. You were barely asleep an hour before this dream hit."

Aelin kept rubbing her wrist as she mouthed, 'A dream.'

Rowan had to fight the intense urge to hold her. To comfort and shelter her. To chase away the memories. He knew she wouldn't allow it though. Instead, she allowed the memories to chase him away.

She grabbed the shaggy throw off the foot of the bed and turned to sit on the edge of the mattress. The throw went around her shoulders. A slow exhale. "You can get back to your reading."

"Are you okay?"

Aelin was still for a few breaths. Without so much as a backwards glance, she stood from the bed and crossed to and out the balcony doors.

For four more nights they continued in the same routine: Aelin would keep herself awake for as long as absolutely possible. Once asleep, it was never long before she'd awake from a nightmare or terror. Sometimes screaming, sometimes shaking in tears, and other times entirely frozen in panic. Rowan would attempt to calm her each time but Aelin would brush it off— brush him off— and go out on the balcony. And Rowan would give her the space she wanted.

Some nights she was joined in bed or out on the balcony by Rhoe when he awoke from his own bad dreams.

But when she exited out to the balcony the following night, Rowan followed.

Careful not to disturb his son's soft and steady snoring, Rowan eased the glass door open and slipped out.

His mate's cloak covered back faced him as she gazed out—or rather attempted to— over the snow-covered field and forest beyond. Her land. Rowan knew it pained her to finally be back and be unable to see it. He knew he wasn't the only one that felt like she had still yet to truly return.

Though she didn't turn at his approach, her voice still reached him as she quietly asked, "Is Rhoe still sleeping?"

"Like a log."

Rowan leaned against the railing beside Aelin and watched the smoldering light dancing in her palms. It flared and settled slightly. Then again. And again, in time with her breaths. Though he couldn't see past the deep hood to her face, he didn't need to read her to understand she was grounding herself.

He'd never seen her use this exact technique before; The magic combined with measured breathing. From how unhindered her breathing was now as opposed to minutes ago in the bedroom, it seemed to be quite useful.

"It must be a relief to access your magic so freely again," Rowan said.

"Somewhat."

Rowan quirked a brow. "But not entirely?"

Silence.

Sighing, Rowan brushed snow off the top of the broad railing and gathered his courage. Every day was getting busier for the both of them as her coronation neared and he was sure it would only increase afterward— at least for the next couple of months.

Rowan wasn't sure he could take another minute of this distance between them much less months. So… "We need to talk, Aelin."

She stilled. "About?"

"About us." Rowan studied the bits of the constellations that peaked out through the dense clouds. "About the last five years."

The flames in her hands winked out. "I'm not talking about the last five years."

"We need to."

Aelin clenched the railing along with her jaw. Snowflakes that made it past the fog of her breath sizzled when they hit her skin.

"I need to, at least," Rowan amended. He angled himself towards his mate. "They won't leave you—those years. So, I'll join you in them."

Aelin's silence was now deafening.

"I miss you, Fireheart." He covered her smoldering hand with his. "I want you back here with me."

Aelin slid her hand away and didn't break her stare into the void. "What changed?"

Rowan looked at her sideways. "Changed?"

"What made you want me back all of a sudden?"

"It wasn't sudden." He crossed his arms. "I've missed you—wanted you back— every second since the beach."

"But what?" Aelin spun toward him. "You were just too busy here contenting yourself with my look-alike to do anything?"

Rowan straightened. "What are you talking about?"

Aelin scoffed and turned back to gaze out over the snowy field. "Forget it."

Rowan had to clamp down on a frustrated growl. This was impossible. She was impossible. "You're jealous of my being with Lysandra? That's what you're mad about? Something you told—no— ordered us to do?"

"I said forget it," Aelin coolly.

"Is that an order too?" As soon as the snide words fell past his lips, he regretted them. He cursed and raked his fingers through his bedraggled hair. This was just going perfectly. "I'm sorry—"

"I'll be back inside in a minute," She cut him off tonelessly. Coldly. Her hood covered face turned a fraction of an inch. "Good night, Rowan."

The words and wind cut right through him. "You're dismissing me."

"Yes."

Rowan looked his mate over and found her more unreadable than ever. An iciness gripping her that had nothing to do with the snow.

He gave a stiff bow. "My Queen."

Turning on his heel, Rowan strode for the balcony doors. Crushing the door knob beneath his hand, he paused and said over his shoulder, "You may prefer to not resolve what's between us, Aelin, but I still actually care about our marriage. If you want to only keep pretending for Rhoe then so be it. I'll play along. But I think for the sake of what we had…" His voice caught. "I at least deserve to know what poisoned your heart toward me."

The snow owl calling in the distant trees was the only sound.

Fine. Rowan pulled the door open and took one step inside the warm room.

"Where were you?"

The low words had almost been swallowed by the wind but they stopped him dead in his tracks. Rowan turned to see her back still to him. Her cape flinching in the wind the only part that wasn't statue-still. "What?"

"Where… were you?" Aelin turned slowly. Her eyes were flat and filled with unshed tears. The wind blew a few strands of hair out of her hood.

Rowan took a step back out and away from the door.

"Five years, Rowan." Their eyes met across the distance. "You left me for over five years."

"Around two months—before I even knew I was carrying Rhoe— Maeve told me you were seen here in Terrasen. With me—with Lysandra. I wasn't sure if it was true or if she'd just said it to torture me further. But then months more went by. And more. And I realized you weren't coming."

Neither of them noticed that the snow had stopped falling. Neither cared.

Aelin took a step closer, posture rigid. "Where were you when I gave birth to our child—shackled in a cell?" A shuddering breath. "I didn't even get to hold him afterwards. Maeve claimed him as hers—as her heir— and then walked out with him."

Rowan lowered himself to the nearest ottoman. The snow blanketing the furniture seeped into his sleep pants but it didn't register.

"Where were you for the countless hours I bled under that sadistic bastard's tools? The countless hours I called for you?" Aelin continued, "Where were you when I was—when Connall—the guards—?"

She looked away with a sob and tugged the cloak tighter and tighter around her until the fibers could give no further. "I pleaded with them to stop. I begged them. But they—they wouldn't!" A choked whimper, "And it hurt."

Rowan recalled the shape she'd been in when he'd found her. The grim looks between the healers in Wendlyn. The extensive amount of time they'd spent working under the blanket on her lower half. He'd never been under the impression that her assailants had gone easy on her. And he'd witnessed enough victims from previous wars to know that the worst pain— no matter how many or how little wounds on the body—was always in the soul.

"I held out through every damn thing they put me through for you. For Rhoe. For Elide and Aedion and everyone here."

Rowan remembered the words spoken years ago: Everything I do is for Terrasen.

"I don't regret that." The owl's calls were answered by another before the forest went quiet. "But you accused me of not caring for our marriage anymore, and I have to ask what happened to "Whatever end"? Because I thought it meant together. But instead, you left me. You chose our end."

"I didn't. I came, Aelin." Rowan crossed the veranda and reached for her hand.

"No!" Teeth bared, Aelin slammed back into the banister. Tears continued to spill down her cheeks and caused her voice to waiver, "You came when it was convenient for you. When I was needed for the war's final push. Where were you when I needed you?"

"Looking for you." The tears long since gathered in his eyes finally spilled over. "I was looking. Everyday."

"Bullsh*t." A broken sob buried the heat of the word.

"I was. I never stopped. It was agony knowing— sometimes feeling— what they were doing to you and not being able to do anything about it." Rowan looked down at his hands. "I've never felt so helpless."

"When I came here to Terrasen it was to answer their calls for aid— as you'd told me to do— and to check for updates from our allies of any sign or hint of Maeve that I may have missed. Then I immediately went back out. I wouldn't sleep here. I wouldn't eat. I wouldn't stop searching."

"But never Doranelle?" Aelin asked, unswayed. "I didn't move, Rowan."

"We searched Doranelle multiple times. It was completely uninhabited until that final time. I thought Maeve must've been keeping you somewhere else before that but—"

"I didn't move." Aelin repeated to the ground. "Maeve left for the keys. Whatever she'd been doing to keep us hidden must've lifted."

Aelin fell into a contemplative silence, her cloak remaining securely wrapped around her, and gazed back into the void over her shoulder. Into the west.

Rowan knew she was still trying to find her way home. Still lost. Only two feet away and she was still lost. Separated by a distance neither of them had created. Yet, unlike the past half of a decade, Rowan could see her now. He could see her pain and he shared in it. What'd been done to his mate… What she thought he'd decided to leave her to…

Shakily, Rowan reiterated, "I never stopped looking for you."

Their red-rimmed, glistening eyes met. "You didn't?"

"Not once."

Aelin choked on another sob and stretched a trembling hand out. I missed you.

Rowan took her hand and kissed it, his knees threatening to give out at any second. I missed you more.

Aelin wiped at her unceasing tears. Buzzard.

Brat.

A wet laugh bubbled out of Aelin and she allowed Rowan to embrace her. Tightly.

"I swore I would find you. And I did, you're here," Rowan squeezed her tighter. "But not nearly soon enough. And in that I failed. I failed you."

Aelin tried to fight the images flashing through her head. "I needed you." She pulled back to stroke the tears from his cheek. "But I still need you, Rowan." I still love you.

I never stopped. Rowan pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm here, Fireheart."

Minutes, priceless minutes, then an hour passed and they continued to simply hold each other. Their tears finally ran dry just as the grey early morning light began to announce the new day.

Now laying together atop a damp lounge chair, Rowan ran his fingers tenderly through his wife's silky hair. Everything about the moment was too wonderful to be real. Maybe he was still out searching the globe. Maybe he was dreaming in a mosquito infested jungle still separated from his family. He begged the gods that if this was a dream to never let him wake.

"I thought I would feel better once I fought Maeve, once I killed her." Aelin confessed quietly. "Thought I'd feel freer. But I don't."

Rowan remained silent, continuing to stoke her hair.

"Now they're all only memories but they're still… wounding me." A slow exhale. "How do you fight a memory?"

"You drown them out with new ones." Rowan tightened his arms around her. "Happy ones."

"I think Rhoe will help with that."

"Definitely. And about Rhoe…" Rowan nuzzled her and grinned softly. "We have a baby."

Aelin hummed into his chest. "Surprise."

"Just when exactly were you going to tell me?"

"When I knew." Aelin sat up and looked toward the bedroom doors. "He was a surprise to me too."

Rowan already couldn't bear knowing what she was going through all these years but then finding out she'd been pregnant too… He steered the conversation to a lighter side. "I don't think he likes me."

"He doesn't like any new people. Give him time," Aelin laid back down and reached up to flick his nose, "Scowling less might also help."

Rowan scowled.

"You're doing it right now, aren't you?"

"No."

"Liar." Aelin snorted. "He also saw you 'hit' me and I think he picked up on my discomfort around you back in Varese. He's quite protective of me."

Rowan tensed. "Did he see them hurting you?"

"Once… the day I was blinded. And another time I think he only heard."

"He saw them blind you."

"No, they took him out before that. Fenrys and I had created a storybook for him that Maeve found. As punishment she made him watch as they… broke my hands." She was quiet before she gave a slightly wicked cackle. "He bit Maeve."

Rowan's smile was feral. "That's our boy."

A/N: Chapter 14 coming as soon as possible. Check out the outtakes story in the meantime? Until next time ~V