A/N: Now onto the main plot. I kinda want to write what the women got up to because that would probably mostly them forcing a reluctant Manon (reluctant but somehow eager enough to make new friends) to try various human/fae pleasures. But instead you'll get the Hangover-esque results because, well, that fits the action/adventure part of this story better.
Disclaimer: I do not own Throne of Glass
A Discovery
The men left their campsite at dawn, despite many sporting hangovers the like of which they hadn't seen in many years. Out of habit the remaining members of the Cadre had gotten up, spurring the human men to get up and pack out. The hike back to the city only took two hours, and slightly less for Rowan, who had decided to attempt to work off his hangover with a run. It never worked, but he figured he would keep up his tradition.
Near the gate to the city he saw a puddle of blood on the ground. He willed himself to sprint the hundred meters to Orynth. He needed to know what had happened to his city.
Rowan skidded to a halt as the smell of the blood hit him: it smelled a shocking amount like Gavriel's blood. It was where he'd died nearly a year ago. But that was impossible.
A guard flagged him over. Rowan didn't turn to see if any of the men were on his heels. He approached the guard.
"Your majesty," the guard said in amazement. He panted, as if he'd run to greet the King. "There's some- someone you need to see. He's in our healing quarters. We haven't notified the Queen yet, as we just discovered him at dawn."
Rowan's heart began to beat faster as fuzzy memories of the night before ran through his head. But it was just a story, and he couldn't remember for the life of him whose names were spoken and by whom. But, this morning, he hoped it wasn't a story.
The guard seemed nervous as Rowan followed him into the infirmary. Rowan's eyes widened as the story seemed to be true. There, on a cot, was a living, breathing, Gavriel. He appeared pale from blood loss, but the bandages on his neck were clean – the bleeding was stopped.
"Is he expected to survive?" Rowan asked the guard.
A healer came out from a side room, drying off her hands. "Yes, your majesty. He'll survive this time and is stable for transport to the Palace's quarters."
"Call a cart to transport him when Aedion arrives to escort him," Rowan commanded them. Aedion, the one with the largest hangover of them all, would have to get over it quickly. "I need to see the Queen."
He left the room and shifted so he could fly towards the palace, suddenly sober.
Rowan flew into the King's (now Queen's) garden and shifted immediately. He opened the door to their room, dropped his supply pack, and opened the door to their parlor. The scene was nothing short of what he expected: a more debauched but somehow more civilized version of the men's night.
His Queen wore a skimpy silk ensemble. She was splayed on their best chez lounge next to an empty box of chocolates. If she wasn't drooling onto a pillow (and the room wasn't full with equally as exhausted women) he might have been turned on. Lysandra, in ghost leopard form, played pillow to Elide. Ansel of Briarcliff, who held a half-empty bottle of wine in her hand, was slumped on an overturned chair. Petrah and Bronwen were laying on the floor across the room near Fleetfoot. Manon, crown still on her head, was on a couch, an empty box of chocolate to match Aelin's lying near her mouth. Various types of lingerie and dresses littered the back of the couch behind her, as if the girls had tried to dress her up. As best he could tell she was now naked under the blanket.
The room was strewn with bottles of wine and chocolate wrappers. Plates and board games were left out. The piano's lid was left open, exposing the white keys. Various ornamental weapons were out on display – and by on display Aelin apparently meant thrown at a wall in some drunken contest. He'd deal with the carnage later. Now he needed to set things in motion, and fast.
He knew Marion Lochan was one of the names mentioned by Lorcan – the only one he could remember. He remembered where she'd died and how. Now he needed to get a healer there and fast to save her life. The former estate was a good hundred miles away if he remembered correctly – a couple hours by wyvern, and a few days by horses. He didn't know the exact location, but he could direct a wyvern and rider to follow the river to the ruins. Manon was out of the question (he wasn't about to mess with a potentially hungover witch queen), but he could try Lysandra in wyvern form and Petrah.
Lysandra went first. He pet the top of her head, hoping that would be enough. Gods, it was weird petting his mate's best friend. Lysandra's eyes opened and he beckoned her to the bedroom. She raised one eyebrow but followed gently such that Elide's head wouldn't hit the floor hard. Petrah was easier to wake up and direct, but had the same suspicious look on her face.
Once in the bedroom she shifted into human form, a human form wearing an even more scandalous ensemble than Aelin. "Yes?" The sleepy shifter asked.
"We need your help. I need you to shift into a wyvern and fly to the estate where Aelin's parents died," Rowan said hurredly toward Lysandra. "As soon as possible. And I need you, witch, to follow with your wyvern. I'm fetching a healer to go with."
"What's this about?" Lysandra asked, nonplussed.
"I'll explain later. The sooner you go, the better," he said, stomping out to the infirmary to find a healer for them. "Meet me in the aerie. Petrah, find a saddle for Lysandra." He could feel the womens' stares after him.
Lysandra was shocked to find not one, but three, badly injured people exactly where Rowan had directed her. Petrah helped the healer off the back of her wyvern and to the cluster. Two individuals, the female bearing a striking resemblance to Aelin and the male sharing more than a passing resemblance, were hunched over a third. All three were in what appeared to be nightclothes.
The two who were still upright turned around, surprised to see anyone anywhere near them. Their faces turned to fear when they saw the wyverns – and moreso when they saw Lysandra shift into human form.
"Are you here to finish the job?" The man asked. He tried to stand to confront her, but he was too weak.
Lysandra looked at them, seeing that both the man and the woman were far too injured and weak to do much. Blood soaked the front of their clothes from the slashes on their necks, though both appeared to have stopped bleeding. "No, we're here to help you. The King sent us."
"The King? The King of Adarlan would never," the woman choked out. "Or Orlon?"
Lysandra didn't know how to answer that.
The healer was already looking at the figure on the ground. With the man and woman away from the body, Lysandra could now see that the woman had to be Elide's mother – which would make these two Aelin's parents. But they were dead. They had been dead. For more than 10 years now. Lysandra would have to question Aelin.
Petrah began to forcibly examine Rhoe and Evalin. The two were too weak to resist a witch. She looked towards Lysandra. "The wounds are deep, but not immediately deadly. It appears the female used what fae healing magic she has to staunch the bleeding. They'll still need help, but it can wait until you can get them back to Orynth."
Aelin's parents – a source of her stubbornness and will to live.
"I'll need time to heal her more before we can safely bring this one back to Orynth," the healer declared, looking at Marian Lochan. "Bring the other two back first."
"I'll wait," Petrah said. "I'll bring back the healer and this woman."
Lysandra nodded.
"Where are we going?" Rhoe demanded to know. He moved in front of his wife to protect her.
"To the palace in Orynth," Petrah told them.
"Taken by a witch and a shifter?" Evalin added skeptically.
"A witch that is the right hand of the witch queen and a shifter that is your daughter's closest friend and advisor," Lysandra replied.
"Our daughter?" Evalin asked hopefully. "She's alive?"
"You'll see her if you come with with me," Lysandra said.
"We can't trust you," Rhoe said. "They're lying," he told his wife.
"Your only hope is to go with her," Petrah said. "So get on her back or you'll die."
The two appeared skeptical, but as Lysandra shifted into a wyvern they were forced to climb on her back.
After sending off the wyverns and a letter to his cousin in Doranelle (if Gavriel was resurrected, surely Connall was as well), Rowan returned to his chambers to talk to Aelin about the situation.
The room was slightly more chaotic than it had been. Bronwen was awake and drinking water from a newly delivered pitcher. Elide was missing, and presumably the one throwing up in the bathroom. Manon was walking around naked, entirely unashamed and looking for her clothes from the night before – or at least not the dresses the women had tried to force her into. Aelin was now lying on her back complaining that it was too bright outside.
Ah, yes, of all the nights for people to be resurrected, it had to be last night. All of them were truly at their best today.
He stalked over to the chez lounge and his wife. "Aelin. Wake up."
"No, buzzard," she moaned. It wasn't a sexy moan, just a hungover one. "You know I have today off for a reason."
"You're Queen," Rowan said, picking her up and bringing her to their closet. "You have no days off."
Somehow Aelin managed to wriggle out of his arms. "What's this about?"
The other women were watching them now.
"Last night – something happened last night," Rowan replied.
"Did you kill someone?" Aelin barbed back.
"No, no firehart," he said, wonder coming back to his eyes. "We resurrected someone – at least one person."
Aelin, and the others in the room, where suddenly very awake and very interested. "How, exactly?"
"Lorcan. I guess that old legend of the Oakwald was true," Rowan told her.
"Which – oh," Aelin replied. "That was just a story."
"It's not," Rowan insisted. "For Gavriel is lying in our infirmary, healing from a shallower version of the very injury that killed him."
Aelin's eyes went wide. "Who else?"
"I don't know," Rowan replied. "We were all too drunk to know. I've sent Lysandra and Petrah with a healer to site where Marian Lochan was felled. I vaguely remembering he said something about someone for Elide."
"When?"
"Thirty minutes ago," Rowan told her.
"Take me to Gavriel," Aelin said softly. "I need to see for myself."
The other women began to dress more quickly. Elide was now out of the bathroom, staring at Rowan, her eyes full of the same wonder in his. In a flurry of activity Aelin had shoved herself into simple trousers and a warm tunic. Elide dressed in one of the dresses hung on the couch, and then forced Manon to do the same. Bronwen and Ansel were still dressed from the night before.
"Bronwen, Ansel, go to the aerie and wait for the wyverns. We'll be up soon," Aelin proclaimed.
In the halls downstairs they ran into the other males, hungover and freshly returned from the wilderness. Aelin pulled Aedion after her towards the infirmary. "No time to explain."
"What?" Aedion said, equally as reluctantly as Aelin had done this morning.
"Lorcan," Aelin panted. "The story. That legend – from Oakwald."
They ran ahead of the others and barreled into the infirmary, earning looks from the healers. Aelin's eyes scanned the room and found what they were looking for: a lump in one of the many now-empty beds. Golden hair peeked out from under the blanket.
Aedion threw the blanket off his father. He was shocked to see the male breathing, asleep under the magic of a healer.
"Explain," Aedion said.
"You know what happened last night better than I," Aelin said. "Unless you got as drunk as the rest of us."
"I – Just – It was just a story. A bedtime fairy tale or something told around fire pits," Aedion said.
"Which is apparently exactly what Fenrys did," Aelin replied. "And then Lorcan fulfilled the conditions, or that's Rowan's best guess."
"How many?"
"I don't know. I can't remember anyone whose name he said," Rowan replied.
Fenrys, following up, replied. "I know Gavriel and Connall."
"Good I sent a letter to Doranelle already," Rowan told him. "I assumed he would be found soon enough to be healed, given where he died, but I knew you would want to see him."
"Can I go there?" Fenrys asked permission.
"Wait until we get a reply," Rowan told him. "I asked them to send him to our court if alive, to get him out of the place where he was held for so long." He glanced at Aelin, knowing that would have been her choice.
Fenrys sighed in disappointment, but took the point.
"I'm staying here," Aedion said.
Aelin nodded. "I'll leave you to it. Rowan and I have business." She grabbed his hand and dragged him off to figure out what kind of shitstorm they were about to deal with.
An hour later the aerie was full. Manon stood by Abraxos, watching him eat the full sheep carcass they'd hunted on their morning flight. Bronwen watched the wyvern next to the queen.
Elide stood anxiously, Lorcan standing solemnly at her side. Fenrys stood off by the top of the stairs.
Abraxos lifted his head and looked to the north. Everyone's attention shifted to the wyvern flying in. It was Lysandra. Petrah and her wyvern were nowhere in sight. Anticipation built as the wyvern neared. Everyone was shocked when the wyvern entered the aerie with a couple aboard, no Marian, and no healer. They helped the couple off Lysandra nonetheless.
As soon as the couple was safely off her back Lysandra shifted to her human form. "Petrah will bring Lady Lochan later – when it's safe."
Elide was the only one to approach the couple, who were looking somewhat suspicious as they looked around at the unusual crowd: an ironteeth witch queen, her crown alight, standing next to a crochan; several legendary fae males; a human woman; an actual wyvern; and the shifter that delivered them.
"Safe?" Elide asked.
"She needs more healing before we can bring her here," Lysandra said. "They said it might be another hour or two. Where's Aedion?"
"With his father," Fenrys answered. "Going to see them?"
"No," Lysandra responded. "I'm exhausted. And hungover. I'm going to rest." She left he aerie.
"Aedion?" The woman whispered.
Elide addressed them. "He's downstairs, your highnesses," she said.
"And you are?"
Manon raised an eyebrow.
"This is Rhoe and Evalin Galathynius – Aelin's parents," Elide explained. "It's very nice to see you again, I'm Elide Lochan."
The couple both looked shocked. "E- Elide Lochan? Last we saw you you were –"
"It's been over a decade since you died," Elide replied. "I'm sure Aelin will explain later. For now we need to get you to the healers."
"Not until we get introductions," he said warily. "Why are there witches in this castle?"
Manon looked to Elide to figure out what to do, but Elide looked at her to indicate she was handling this. "This is Manon Blackbeak Crochan, the queen of witches and the one to unite them, along with her cousin Bronwen Crochan. Manon is one of Aelin's allies."
"And them? The fae? They're Maeve's warriors," Evalin said.
"No longer," Elide said. "They are now blood sworn to Aelin. Maeve is dead." She stood as proud and tall as possible to convince them she was an authority – someone they could trust. The actual Elide. "Fenrys is one on Aelin's closest confidants, while Lorcan is now my husband."
Evalin's eyes widened. "You're married?"
"Most of us are," Elide replied. "But that's for another time."
Fenrys picked Evalin up, much to the chagrin of Rhoe. "I'm bringing her to the infirmary. Lorcan, care to take her husband?"
"No," both men said simultaneously.
"I may be injured, but Evalin healed me enough to walk," Rhoe said. "Assuming the infirmary is in the same place it used to be."
It was a slow procession to get the Evalin and Rhoe to the infirmary given Rhoe's injury, but he insisted on walking. Inside it was a struggle to get both of them into the cots. They insisted on being examined without being treated like they were injured. While they were calmer and more dignified in their approach, it was eerily similar to something Aelin would do.
Aedion, in a quiet corner watching his father sleep, noticed the ruckus at the doors and moved to check it out. Once he noticed who was at the doors he began to walk quickly. He stared for a couple seconds before wrapping them up into a hug.
"They weren't lying," Evalin said as she smelled Aedion's hair. It was really her nephew in her arms.
Rhoe joined in on the hug, happy to have someone familiar in his arms.
"You're injured," A healer scolded.
"Has – has anyone told Aelin yet?" Aedion asked as he backed away, astonished to see his aunt and uncle again.
"No," Fenrys replied. "She's taking a bath and making herself presentable after making sure all the rooms were ready. She couldn't stand the idea of greeting the long dead while smelling like wine." He didn't mention that Rowan was with her. "But I can go get her, or at least Rowan."
"Then go," Aedion said. "She should be here."
Fenrys left.
"I suppose you have a lot to tell us," Rhoe said to Aedion.
"It's mostly Aelin's tale to tell," Aedion told them. "But later. Although she's just as stubborn, she wouldn't like that you're refusing healing."
Ten minutes later a very wet Aelin, a dress clinging to her body as if she hadn't bothered to dry off before flinging it on, came barreling into the infirmary. "Where are they?" She demanded to know, not bothering to look. When she did it took only a couple seconds to find them. She ran over to their cots and fell between them, tears falling down her face.
Her parents reached down to hug her, and she stood to reciprocate.
"I have so much to tell you," she said.
"We know," Rhoe said. "But we'll wait. The healers say it will be another few days of healing before we can leave the infirmary. Then we'll have time, all the time we need." He leaned over to kiss her forehead.
They heard footsteps behind their daughter and saw a large fae male enter the picture. He placed a hand on Aelin's shoulder and she looked up at him before returning her gaze to them.
"Mom, Dad," She paused, nervous. The male didn't seem any more comfortable. But they'd noticed the rings, and they knew introducing him to them was probably scarier to her than it should have been. "This is Rowan, my husband and mate."
Rhoe extended a hand to him. "Welcome to the family."
Evalin reached up to embrace her son-in-law, trying to abate her caution.
"Thank you," Rowan replied warmly. "I'll let Aelin catch up with you, I have a few things to-"
"Stay," Aelin commanded him.
And stay he did, as Aelin attempted to catch her parents up on the last ten years of her life.
Harding found something– or rather someone – in the basement of the Assassin's Guild when he went to check on his prisoner that morning. It was another prisoner, one beat so badly he couldn't recognize the young man. It was Tern that eventually identified him: Sam Cortland, a man several years dead, but the second most promising guild trainee next to only one Celaena Sardothein. Not only that, but Sam was Celaena's lover.
It was Tern that called for the healer. "He'll be an asset to the guild in more way than one. Don't let him know Celaena's alive." Then he began to draft the letter to the palace, knowing the king would allow it to find its way back to Celaena somehow.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed.