Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Burning.

An intense, skin peeling, hair singeing, earth melting burn .

That’s the only sensation Aelin knows. The only one she’s known for a while now. For all of the five months she’s been in Maeve’s grasp.

The burn of her iron box, iron chains, and iron mask. The burn of whip across her back, her shoulders, and her legs. The burn of her fire, restlessly waiting and building under her skin.

A sudden BOOM and the shaking of the earth beneath her reminds Aelin of where she is. In her box, next to the battlefield. So close to Rowan, to her mate. Her husband. She can feel the bond between them, more alive than it’s ever been. She knows he’s fighting to get to her. She almost cries out with the joy of it, with the joy of knowing she’s within his reach. But she can’t get distracted. She has a job to do.

Maeve brought her to the final battlefield, most likely to distract Rowan. But what Maeve didn’t know was that that move just helped further Aelin’s plans. As long as Manon follows through, everything will be fine. Well...relatively fine. Erilea will be safe. Terrasen will be safe. Her court will be safe. Rowan will be safe. That’s what matters.

Aelin shifts in her iron coffin. It’s standing upright, leaving her wrapped in chains and curled in the fetal position at its bottom. She pushes herself up and can’t keep herself from crying out as her skin stretches over her painfully thin body and tugs at the wounds from the lashings she received just hours ago.

Blood, sticky and warm, coats the sides and bottom of her box.

Blood. That’s what is needed today. An irony, considering how much she’s shed in these past months at Maeve and Cairn’s hands. Now, the timing is finally right. Her blood is going to free her from them.

Aelin lifts her hand and her iron shackles clang. She gathers some of the freshest blood from the walls of her iron coffin with her fingers. She hears the faint roar of a wyvern on the battlefield. Now . It’s time.

She takes her bloody fingers and starts to frantically write. She scribbles with her blood, all over her shackles, as her hands shake with fatigue and hunger. Not words. Wyrdmarks.

Her hand stops. And her shackles click open, one by one. First the one around her neck. Then her hands. Then her feet. And then her iron mask falls into her lap. Aelin is free.

She reaches up, biting her lip to keep from crying out again, and then inscribes the same wyrdmarks on the lid of her box.

It clicks open.

And Aelin tumbles out.

……………………………………..

Rowan feels the exact moment when Aelin falls onto the grass surrounding her box.

He feels her joy at being free, but also her inescapable sadness of the sacrifice she knows she must make. He feels her wonder at the sensation of the earth below her once more, but also the excruciating pain as the stale breeze brushes along her open wounds.

Aelin...Oh, Fireheart.

Rowan’s breath catches in his throat. She wears little but the binding around her breasts and trousers torn off at the knee. Her wounds...Oh Gods, her wounds. The grass around her is already stained with red. Her bones stick out at every angle.

Oh, Fireheart.

He is so distracted by the sight of her that a Valg soldier nearly beheads him. Rowan jumps back, fending him off in time to start fighting his way through the battlefield towards her. His queen. His carranam. His mate. His wife .

……………………………………..

The second she regains her bearings, Aelin searches the skies. Searches for a small wyvern. She feels her mate’s gaze on her, but refuses to turn her head. She can’t be distracted.

There. Abraxos. And Manon on his back, dressed in full battle armor and swinging a mace. Abraxos beats his wings, racing towards Aelin at top speed.

Just as they pass over Aelin’s head, a small, cloth-wrapped package drops to the ground in front of her. Manon pulled through. It’s time.

Aelin crawls forward and grabs the package, too weak to push herself to her feet. The rope surrounding it comes loose with a few quick tugs, and the cloth falls away.

Its contents pulse with an insistent darkness that Aelin has only seen once in her life. In her hand lie all three wyrdkeys, along with the all-too-familiar Eye of Elena. Aelin draws a sharp breath. She knows...she knows what she must do. But sitting there, her back throbbing and stomach aching, fear builds up in her gut.

It rises without notice, quickening her breaths and blurring her vision. Images flash before her eyes. Dreams that will never be lived. Moments that will never be seen. New books, fresh chocolates, and shared memories. Two crowns, side by side. Fresh tattoos sprawling up her back and stomach. The Staghorn Mountains standing tall and proud underneath a summer sun. The streets of Terrasen, once again teaming with life. A small hand in hers. A tiny head of silver curls. Her and Rowan, fast asleep on their bed, with another tiny body curled between them.

Aelin takes a shaky breath, holding back a sob. She’s doing this for Rowan. For Terrasen. For the future of the entire continent. She’s spent the past 10 years hiding from her destiny. She’s done running now.

She closes her eyes and reaches deep inside herself, into her endless well of magic. She dives down, down, down. The wyrdkeys and Eye of Elena in her hands begin to warm. Her fire has been building, constantly growing. She kept it quiet, hidden under the iron that caged her. But each time she was let out for punishment or for amusement, she fed her fire. Now, it is well tended into a careful rage, massive and ready to explode.

The objects in her hand grow even hotter. The sounds of battlefield around her fade into the background, but she hears Maeve’s distant shouting as she realizes that Aelin is free. Aelin opens her eyes. The Eye and the wyrdkeys are glowing a deep orange, and getting brighter and brighter with each passing moment.

Suddenly, there is a tug, deep inside her. She looks up. There, not even fifty feet away from her, is Rowan. He has almost made it through most of the Valg in his path. The wyrdkeys are painfully hot now, searing through her fingers. She locks eyes with Rowan.

I love you.

Fireheart, don’t.

I’m sorry.

No!

And then she lets go of her fire.

It bursts out of her like a storm, lighting up the entire battlefield. A ripple of her flame flies out in every direction, and every single Valg drops like a stone. Every. Single. One.

The fire encircles her, whipping around her like wind in a hurricane. Her hair flies furiously with it. A wreath of flame rests upon her head, and her eyes have turned the color of molten lava. Aelin can feel the fire. It burns, rippling under her skin and through her body with a pain she’s never felt before, even through all of her whippings. The wyrdkeys and the Eye of Elena are nothing but a ball of liquid fire spinning in her hands.

In the back of her mind, Aelin can hear Rowan shouting for her, attempting to reach for her through the flames surrounding her, but being held back by Lorcan and Gavriel.

“Aelin! Aelin !”

Gathering up every last bit of magic left within her, reaching to the very bottom of her well, she releases one final burst. A blinding light explodes outwards from the welded lock in her hands, spreading across the battlefield. One by one, the Valg bodies, Erawan, and Maeve, flicker and disappear, leaving behind nothing but grass stained black with their blood.

The flames surrounding Aelin flicker at the same time, fading away. The lock in her hands becomes nothing but a useless piece of metal. It falls to the ground. And so does Aelin.

Her court remains frozen around her. The remnants of their army, the Bane, the Silent Assassins, Galan Ashryver, Ansel, and more stand, waiting.

Rowan is the first to move. He drops to the ground next to Aelin, frantically gathering her into his arms. She remains limp.

“F-fireheart. Fireheart, please,” he pleads in a broken voice. “You can’t leave. To whatever end, Aelin. You promised.”

……………………………………..

Moments after the world goes dark for Aelin, it becomes bright again. Bright, and painless. But, it’s a world without Rowan. Without her mate. At the thought of his name, at what he must be feeling as he looks at her dead body, she feels as if her heart might finally crack. Aelin wishes she could go back to the dark, blissfully unaware.

But kneeling before her, with tears in her eyes, is the most beautiful woman Aelin has ever seen. She has hair made of fire, and skin the color of glowing embers. Mala Fire-Bringer.

“Are you here to tell me it’s over then? I’m dead?"

Mala smiles tearfully. “No, Aelin of the Wildfire. I’m here to give you a choice.”

“What kind of choice? If it’s about what kind of residence I’d prefer in the afterlife, one with a library and chocolates would be nice-”

“A choice between life and death. It was said that the descendent with Brannon’s fire in her must be the one to rid Erilea of Erawan for good. But the descendent must go willingly. She must sacrifice herself, knowing that she will die, and completing her task anyways. If those requirements are met, she will be given the option to return to her previous life as a reward for her bravery.” Mala takes Aelin’s bony hands in her own. “Tell me, Aelin Light-Bringer, do you wish to stay here, pain free? Or do you wish to return to your mate?”

Images flash through Aelin’s mind. Aedion, holding Lysandra in his arms as tears run down their faces. Elide, frozen in shock and grief. Dorian on his knees. Rowan, in his torn and bloodied battle armor, clutching her lifeless body to him, vicious sobs ripping through his body as he rocks her limply back and forth.

“I want...I want to go home. I want to go to my family. To Terrasen.”

Mala smiles knowingly. “You’ve been so, so brave Aelin. Thank you.” She presses a kiss to Aelin’s forehead. And the world goes dark again.

……………………………………..

Rowan has never felt a pain quite like this. Never something so soul crushing and heart wrenching. Not even after Lyria’s death. Aelin’s heart no longer beats. And he couldn’t do anything to stop it. She’s gone, he will never hold her warm body to his again, he will never fly through the skies of Terrasen with her racing below him on horseback, he will never rule by her side, they will never raise a family together, he will never see her smile again–

And then she moves.

It’s just a twitch of her hand in his at first. Then the movement of an eyelid.

“Aelin?” He whispers hoarsely.

And then he hears her heart start to beat again.

“You stupid buzzard. You thought I would leave you by yourself?” Aelin croaks, opening one eye slowly.

There is a clamor as her court, Ansel, Galan, and the others scramble to her side in joy and shock.

But as Aelin grins up at Rowan, and Rowan grins back, nothing else in the world exists but the two of them.

……………………………………..

Elsewhere…

“It’s time for you to go,” the woman with the fiery hair and glowing skin says.

“Go where?”

“Go home. To the one who misses you.”

……………………………………..

The next morning, in the forests outside of Adarlan, four strangers wake up beside each other.

Two of them, a broad-shouldered man with dark brown hair and a beautiful woman with turquoise eyes surrounded by a ring of gold, embrace lovingly.

The third, a dark-skinned young Eyllwe woman, rises slowly and takes in her surroundings.

The fourth, a young man with sun-touched skin and messy brown hair, simply looks bewildered.

After that morning, nothing will be the same again.

Chapter Text

“But, if we station fifteen of the guards from the gardens and the back wall to the front of the castle,” Chaol argues, “We’ll have less problems with...unwanted visitors.

Dorian, Chaol, and Nesryn are seated at a table in Dorian’s chambers at the end of the day, gathered around a map of the castle grounds. The setting sun gives the room an orange glow, and glints off of the gold thread in Dorian’s deep blue tunic.

Ever since the end of the war against Erawan, many citizens of Adarlan have been showing up at the castle doorstep, trying to make their way in so they can express their gratitude to the King personally. But it has been more than six months since Aelin defeated the Valg and was simultaneously resurrected, and the novelty of these visitors is quickly becoming a nuisance.

“No, no. I don’t want to give the citizens the wrong idea. I am not my father. If we station that many new guards at the front of castle, it could bring out old insecurities of the way my father’s guard operated. I don’t want to scare them away, I just don’t want them to keep getting into the castle unnoticed,” Dorian replies, rubbing a hand over his face and ruffling his messy black hair.

Chaol gives an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry, Dorian, I know this isn’t your first choice, but how else are we supposed to keep them out without increasing the number of guards stationed at the front of the castle?”

“I said NO, Chaol!” The room rings with silence after Dorian’s outburst, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap,” he amends, “I’m just frustrated.”

Suddenly Nesryn leans forward, placing her hand on the map in front of them and motioning towards the front of the castle. “What if we station those fifteen guards at the front of the castle, but inside of it instead in the entrances or outside? Behind the doors and in the front hallways,” she proposes, “That way we have extra security in the front to keep people out, but the guards are in a place where they can’t be seen by the citizens and therefore can’t stir fear in the city.”

Both men are quiet for a moment, stunned, and then Chaol reaches over to place a soft kiss on Nesryn’s lips. “This is why you’re Captain of the Guard.” Dorian rolls his eyes as the two lovebirds exchange smiles.

Now that the matter is settled, the three friends relax into their seats. Dorian snatches a biscuit from a plate at the end of the table.

“So,” Chaol starts, “When is Manon visiting again?”

Dorian chokes on his biscuit. “U-um, in a month, I think.” His cheeks flood with pink.

“We’ll probably miss her then. I doubt we’ll be back from Terrasen yet.”

“Is the royal wedding so soon?” Dorian asks.

“Dorian...I told you last week. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. Our things are already packed.”

“Right, right. Sorry, I’ve just been distracted. I wish I could go with you. Give Aelin and Rowan my best, will you? Oh!” Suddenly Dorian shoots out of his seat. Chaol and Nesryn watch, bemused, as Dorian searches the bookshelves in the corner of the room like a madman.

After a few minutes, Dorian finds what he’s looking for with an “Ah!”, and returns to the table. He slides a thick novel across the table to Chaol. “When you see Aelin, give this to her. It’s my new favorite, I want to know what she thinks.”

Chaol can’t do more than nod before they are interrupted by a furious knocking on the door of Dorian’s chambers.

The three friends exchange a puzzled glance. “Come in!” Dorian says.

A flustered guard, Nyle, enters the room, quickly shutting the door behind him. “I’m sorry Your Majesty, they-they refused to listen, they just insisted, they–”

“Slow down, slow down,” Dorian says, standing from his seat once again. Nesryn and Chaol quickly follow. “Who? What’s happened?”

“You have visitors, four of them, Your Majesty, Phelan and I tried to tell them you wouldn’t be seeing anyone but they just refused to listen, and I thought I would at least see if Your Majesty would be willing to meet with them.”

“Nyle, how many times do I have to tell you, you can call me Dorian. Now, who are these visitors? And at this time of the day? It’s almost sundown.”

“That’s the thing, sir, two of them claim to have known your father. And one claims to have known you personally. That one, along with another are looking for...for Celaena Sardothien.”

Dorian’s face darkens as he replies cautiously, “Very well. Tell them I will see them. But if they have any harmful intentions, I want them out. Immediately. Anyone who knew Queen Aelin as Celaena Sardothien is a possible threat.”

“They’re right down the hall, sir, Phelan is with them.”

“Bring them in.”

Nyle rushes out the door after a quick nod, and Dorian, Chaol, and Nesryn exchange concerned glances. Within seconds, there is another knock at the door.

“Come in,” Dorian says, standing behind the table with his hands resting on the back of a chair. Chaol and Nesryn move to stand at attention at his side.

The door opens slowly and two people enter, accompanied by Nyle. “I thought I would bring these two in first,” Nyle says, “They were calmer than the other two.”

The two visitors are adults, well into their thirties. One, a man, is broad-shouldered with dark brown hair and a trimmed beard. He looks vaguely familiar to Dorian. The other, a woman, has a slight frame and blond hair, with...Ashryver eyes.

The woman speaks first. “We were told...that you know Aelin? Aelin Ashryver?”

“I do,” Dorian says cautiously.

Both figures seem to slump in relief. “Then it’s true, what we’ve heard? Aelin is alive?”

“She is, yes. She now rules Terrasen. And who are you, exactly? How do you know her?”

Both seem to hesitate, before the man replies, “We’re...Rhoe Galathynius and Evalin Ashryver. Aelin’s parents.”

Chaol cautiously draws his sword and Dorian barks out a laugh. When both visitors stay straight-faced, Dorian steps out from behind the table. “That’s impossible,” he says, “Rhoe and Evalin died more than a decade ago. Their bodies were found in the bed of their summer house with their throats cut open.”

“I know...and we were. Dead, I mean,” replies the man who claims to be Rhoe, “But a few months ago, something happened. There was a burst of magic, and then Mala appeared to us. She said something about going home, and the next thing we knew we were waking up on the ground in the forests of Adarlan.”

Chaol and Nesryn, still behind the table, look on in disbelief. Dorian is silent for a few moments. “How many months ago, exactly, would you say you woke up in Adarlan?” He finally asks.

“Six, maybe? It took us a while to find our way out of the forest with the other two, and then we were bouncing around from inn to inn, trying to figure out where we were and when we were.” Dorian freezes, making the connection. Six months ago...is right around the time that Mala resurrected Aelin. Perhaps, Dorian thinks, their story has some truth. “Maybe,” Rhoe continues, “You want to see the two that came with us, before deciding not to believe us? One of them...she claims to know you.”

“Very well.” Dorian nods to Nyle. “Have Phelan bring them in.”

Nyle raps his knuckles on the door, signalling Phelan to bring the two other visitors.

The door opens once again.

First, a young man, appearing to be maybe 16 or 17 years old, steps in. His scruffy brown hair falls over his forehead. He wears nothing but a simple dirty white shirt and trousers.

“And I suppose you used to be dead as well?” Dorian asks with no small amount of disbelief and mockery in his voice.

“Yes, actually.”

Chaol scoffs and steps forward to ask, “You’re one of the ones who claims to know Celaena Sardothien, aren’t you? What’s your name?”

“Sam. Sam Cortland.” Dorian and Chaol visibly pale at the words, but before they can respond, the fourth and last visitor steps in. Her hair that was previously always in a flawless braid falls in waves over her shoulders, and her previous wardrobe of dresses have been exchanged for an old tunic and trousers, but Chaol and Dorian would recognize her anywhere.

Nehemia Ytger.

Chaol’s sword drops to the ground with a loud clang, and Dorian falls unceremoniously into a chair, his face now deathly white. “Oh Gods.”

Chapter Text

Sam sighs as he falls onto the bed he’s been given for the night. It’s been a long day. After finally convincing King Dorian and his two friends that what they were saying was the truth, the seven of them – the King, the Captain of the Guard, the King’s Hand, the King and Queen of Terrasen, Nehemia, and himself – talked long into the night, until the candles were nothing but stubs.

Celaena. No, Aelin , Sam thinks. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, former lost heir of Terrasen and now its Queen.

The Celaena that Sam remembers...she doesn’t fit the image of Aelin that the others have been telling him about. Not at all. He remembers Celaena as a cruel, beautiful, quick-witted assassin. Not this...passionate, friendly, savior-of-all-of-Erilea that everyone else seems to think she is. He’s been trying to reconcile the two personalities, but Sam still doesn’t know quite what to think.

Sighing, Sam sits up and rearranges his body on the bed so that his head actually lays on the half dozen pillows at the top of it. He burrows under the mounds of rich, heavy blankets and looks across the room at his belongings in the corner. He doesn’t have much; he certainly didn’t have anything but the clothes on his back when he first landed in the forests around Adarlan. But the King has supplied him, Nehemia, Rhoe and Evalin with fresh sets of clothes and personal items to put in their saddlebags for the long journey north. The journey that starts bright and early tomorrow morning, Sam thinks. After a few short moments, he turns in his bed, settling onto the plush and luxurious mattress and falling into a restless sleep.

……………………………………….

The clop of horse hooves shakes Chaol from his sleepy stupor once more. He’s leaning against a stack of hay in the stables, waiting for the stable boys to bring out fresh horses for the journey north. Every few seconds his eyelids flutter shut before he snaps them open again, his body jerking. The sweet smell of hay, straw, and oats wafts through the air. He, Dorian, and Nesryn had talked with the new visitors for hours and hours the night before, and he and Nesryn had very little time to sleep before they needed to get out of bed to finish preparing for the trip.

Even now, as Chaol pushes himself off from the stack of hay to retrieve the first two horses from the stable boy, the first few rays of sun are only just starting to pierce the thick layer of fog that coats the castle grounds. He gives a curt nod to the stable boy, taking the horses’ reins and tying them to posts outside the stable to wait for their riders.

By the time all six horses are tied and waiting, Chaol sees their four guests making their way across the castle grounds to the stables. They’re all in fresh clothes. Nesryn found a beautiful Ellywe dress somewhere in the castle for Nehemia to wear. Sam and Rhoe are in simple, but fresh tunics and trousers. Evalin wears an elegant women’s tunic and long, flowing trousers.

As the four approach, Chaol notices the dark circles under their eyes and the weary trudge of their steps, and makes a note to tell Nesryn that they will probably have to make camp early tonight. Once they are in earshot, a conversation between Nehemia and Sam filters into Chaol’s ears.

“–how, though? I still don’t understand why she was in the King’s castle in the first place,” Sam was saying.

Nehemia’s face is stoic, only the slight turn of her mouth reveals her irritation. “She was chosen to be the King’s Champion.”

“ Yes, I know, you already said that,” Sam replies, his voice taking on an exasperated tone. “But why was she even chosen for that? How did the King know how to find her?”

Nehemia pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger as they reach Chaol and the horses. “Dorian found her. And that’s a story for another time,” Nehemia says with finality, parting from Sam and moving to stroke the neck of an elegant gray stallion several feet away. Sam lets out an unintelligible sound of frustration, running his hands through his damp, newly-washed hair. He storms away, violently packing his things into the saddlebags on the side of a dappled brown mare.

Evalin and Rhoe are quiet as they approach. They each give Chaol a tired nod and smile, before placing their belongings in the saddlebags of two of the horses, side by side. Before long, Nesryn and Dorian join the others. With the sun not fully visible on the horizon yet, the whole party remains groggy with sleep as finish packing, climb on their horses, and begin their journey out of the castle gates, through the sleeping city, and into the wilderness.  

……………………………………….

It takes two days for the company of six to begin talking with each other. They travel with nothing but the sound of their horses’ hooves for some time. Each night they stop in silence and lay out their bedrolls, eat cooked wildlife speared by Chaol’s sword and curl up beneath their blankets, exhausted from the day’s ride.

After they begin moving again on the morning of the third day of their journey, Evalin guides her horse to walk beside Chaol and Nesryn. “Tell me about her,” is all she says.

“Sorry?” Chaol says, startled and not sure what she means at first.

“Aelin. We...Rhoe and I,” she replies, glancing back over her shoulder, “We remember her as a...spirited little girl who never left her cousin’s side and wrecked havoc all over the castle. But what is she like now? She was your friend, right?”

Chaol sighs. “In a way she was, yes. And she still is. There’s so much to say about her, and about what she’s been through...I’m not sure where to start.” He fiddles with the horse’s reins in his hands. “She’s still spirited, she had to be to survive what she has. She’s kind sometimes, but has a definite mean and stubborn streak in her. Because of the things she’s seen, she doesn’t trust easily. That’s why this wedding is so important, bec–” Nesryn cuts off Chaol with a sharp look and kick of her boot.

“Wedding? There’s a wedding? Is that why you two are going to Terrasen?” Rhoe questions. In the midst of Evalin and Chaol’s conversation, he had pulled his horse up behind them.

Chaol scratches his three day-old scruff awkwardly. “I-I’m not sure if…” He looks over at Nesryn, as if asking she thinks it would be a good idea to continue. They had planned to not reveal everything about Aelin too quickly so that her parents and two friends wouldn’t be too shocked. But now that he’s started, there’s no way to avoid it, and Nesryn reluctantly nods. “Well, there is a wedding. A royal wedding. That why we were travelling there in the first place.”

“A royal wedding? Between who?” Evalin asks, pushing back a thick strand of hair that had fallen from its fastenings atop her head.

“It’s Aelin’s wedding.”

“W-what?!” Sam splutters from behind them, choking on the water that he had been in the middle of gulping down.

“Aelin and her mate, Rowan, are getting married.” Chaol says, ignoring Sam’s incredulous reaction.

One of Evalin’s hands go from her reins to her mouth in shock and joy. “She found her mate?”

Chaol nods with a soft smile. “Those two would do anything for each other. Technically they are already married, this is just a ceremony to make it official in front of Terrasen. They’ll both be getting coronated at the same time.”

Evalin is speechless, her eyes shining with joy. Then Nehemia speaks up from behind them for the first time, “So she’s taking him as her King? Not just a consort?”

“No, not a consort,” Chaol answers, “She’s always insisted that the two of them are equals, and wants it to stay that way.”

“Aelin,” Evalin begins, “She always dreamed...and imagined what it would be like to find her mate. When she was little she would ask us to tell her stories of mates, mates who had found each other against all odds. We would weave tales for her every night before she went to bed. We always wondered if Aedion might be her mate...but I suppose not. I can’t-I can’t believe that she actually found him.”

Nesryn and Chaol exchanged surprised glances. They knew that Aelin loved Rowan more than life itself, but they had never considered her to be a secret romantic.

“There’s a lot more to the story,” Chaol says, “I’ll tell it when we settle down for the night.”

……………………………………….

The rest of the day could not have gone more slowly for Rhoe, Evalin, Sam, and Nehemia. They want to hear more about the woman Aelin had become in their absence. But finally, the sun begins to sink behind the trees and Chaol and Nesryn tie their horses in a grove of trees for the night.

It isn’t until rabbits are roasting over a roaring fire that Chaol and Nesryn sit down and Chaol begins his story.

The four guests gather around the warmth of the glowing flames. “The night that you died,” Chaol starts, directing his first statement towards Evalin and Rhoe, “Aelin was found half-drowned and half-frozen on the banks of a river by Arobynn Hamel.” Sam flinches, recognizing the name, and hating it. “Arobynn Hamel was the King of Assassins, and ran the Assassin’s Guild in Rifthold. He rescued her and took her in as one of his own. She became his protege, rough hands and cruelty shaping her into the infamous Adarlan’s Assassin, Celaena Sardothien. I think...if Sam wants to fill in some of this story, he can,” Chaol says, looking towards Sam.

“Is that how you knew her? You were with Arobynn Hamel?” Evalin asks Sam. Her and Rhoe are holding hands tightly, their faces pale.

“Yes, I...I was already at the Assassin’s Guild when she arrived. We were Arobynn’s favorites. She actually hated me for most of the time I knew her,” Sam says with a reminiscent smile, “And I hated her for a while too. I thought she was spoiled and stuck-up...but somewhere along the line I actually-I fell in love with her. Everyone seemed to know how I felt except her. Arobynn was always sending us away on assignments together, and she would fight with me over every little thing. I think...I didn’t know what had happened to her before at the time, what her past was, but I think that because of what happened to you,” he says, referring to Evalin and Rhoe, “She was afraid to get close to anyone, so she pushed people away.”

“When did things change between you two?” Nehemia asks, remembering Celaena’s tearful and grieving face when she spoke of Sam during their time in the castle.

“It was after Arobynn sent us on an assignment to look at slaves for him...she refused to allow the transaction to take place and convinced me to help her set the slaves free. Arobynn beat her unconscious when we returned and had his men hold me back – I think that’s when she started to realize how I felt. Arobynn sent her away to train with the Silent Assassins. When she came back we ended up sharing how we felt with each other, and we planned to leave Arobynn to travel away from Erilea and start our lives somewhere new.”

“She never-she didn’t tell you about us? About Terrasen?” Rhoe asks.

“No, all I knew was that she was from Terrasen and that her parents were dead.”

“What happened then? Why didn’t you travel away with her? How did you end up...dead?” This time it’s Nesryn who asks the question.

“We had one job left to do, an assignment that would secure us the money we needed to free ourselves from Arobynn and build a life together. We had to go after Ioan Jayne and Rourke Farran, the two most notorious crime lords in Rifthold. We had a plan, I was to go after Farran and she would take down Jayne afterwards. I got caught...and never came back. The night I left for the mission was the last time I saw her.” Sam’s voice wavers in grief and he bites his lip.

“I think I can tell you what happened next,” Chaol says quietly. A hint of anger lies in his voice and in the way he holds his shoulders. “Arobynn framed her. When she was wild with grief, he purposely let Jayne’s location slip, knowing she would go after him. The King’s men were waiting for her.” Sam’s face is tight with horror, and Evalin has silent tears slipping down her cheeks. “She was sentenced to nine lifetimes in the salt mines of Endovier,” Chaol chokes out.

“No. No, no, no please tell me she escaped.” Sam’s eyes are wild now and Evalin has buried her face in Rhoe’s shoulder. Nehemia, already aware of the story unfolding, dips her head in sadness.

Chaol simply shakes his head. “She was in Endovier for a year.” Evalin lets out an anguished cry and Sam stands abruptly, stumbling away from the others around the fire. They let him go, and he makes his way to a nearby river bank before vomiting up his dinner and sinking to the ground. He sits there for hours, knowing the others must be preparing for sleep already. This is my fault. I should’ve seen it coming, I should’ve fought back- The sound of a branch cracking nearby shakes Sam from his thoughts and Nehemia sinks to the ground next to him, her beautiful dress rustling as she sits.

“Did they hurt her?” Sam asks.

“Yes.”

“How badly?”

“When I knew her she still had nightmares on bad days. She had three long scars from whippings on her back. She hated the dark.”

Sam buries his face in his hands. “It was my fault,” he mutters, “I should’ve been more careful. If I had made it back, we would be making a home far from Erilea by now.”

“From what I’ve heard,” Nehemia says, “Nothing could’ve stopped Arobynn from his goal. He wanted Celae-Aelin to himself. You would’ve been killed some way or another, and he would’ve punished her somehow, Endovier or not. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

When Sam is silent for a while, watching the water in the small river they sit in front of trickle by, Nehemia speaks again. “She told me about you. She cried when she did, but she told me. She told me about the rivalry the two of you had, and the many years it took for her to recognize your kind heart. She missed you, more than anything.”

Then, Nehemia reaches out. She lays her delicate but strong hand atop Sam’s where it rests in the dirt. The two of them sit together in silence for a while, watching the sky lighten with the morning.

……………………………………….

As the days pass, each night the six travelers gather around the fire. Bit by bit, Aelin’s story falls into place.

Chaol speaks of how he and Dorian retrieved Aelin from Endovier to become the King’s Champion. Nehemia tells Sam, Rhoe and Evalin of the time she spent with Aelin during and after the competition, and the kind woman who emerged once they became close. She tells them of her sacrifice.

Chaol then picks up the story again, describing Aelin’s deterioration after Nehemia’s death. How she raked her nails across his face in anger. At this, Nehemia doesn’t know whether to cry or smile. He tells them what he knows, how he sent her away to Wendlyn and she was picked up by Rowan Whitethorn. How Rowan took her to Mistward and trained her on orders from Queen Maeve. Rhoe and Evalin both react strongly to this, worried about what Maeve might’ve done to their daughter to get her hands on her powers. They learn that Rowan and Aelin hated each other for a while, their jagged edges rubbing against each other. But they were both broken, and they started to fit together. To heal each other. Rowan helped Aelin remember what she was fighting for and taught her to control her magic, and Aelin smoothed away Rowan’s rough edges.

Both Nesryn and Chaol speak of Aelin’s miraculous and shocking return, and her emergence and acknowledgement of her status as the lost heir of Terrasen. Of the fight to return magic to Erilea and to bring down the King. They fill in what they know of what happened while they were on the Southern Continent.

When Chaol reveals that Aelin sacrificed herself for her people and her country and was captured and tortured by Maeve, all of them weep. Nesryn steps in again, telling details of the final battle, of Aelin’s ultimate sacrifice and resurrection, and of the sound that escaped Rowan’s chest when he saw his Queen fall.

But eventually, as they make their way towards Terrasen, the four of them begin to understand the woman Aelin has become. They accept her upcoming official marriage to Rowan – Rhoe with a few fatherly reservations, of course. They come to know all she has done and sacrificed for Terrasen and those she loves. And they couldn’t be more proud.

Chapter Text

“Aelin! Aelin, the sun has been up for hours. Get up!” Aedion’s voice is muffled through the door of Aelin and Rowan’s massive bedroom. Rowan groans sleepily beside her and buries his head in her neck.

“If we ignore him, do you think he’ll go away?” Aelin whispers, the remnants of sleep clinging to her voice.

“Aelin! Now!”

“Shhhh…” Rowan’s breath warms Aelin’s neck and shoulder as he tries to shush Aedion’s obnoxiously loud voice and huffs.

“I swear to all the Gods, if I open this door to something indecent, I will murder both of you. I don’t care that you’re getting married today.”

At the reminder of the wedding to occur in a few hours, Aelin can’t help but grin. Until, of course, she realizes that Aedion is about to open the door and neither her nor Rowan are covered by clothes or blankets. Frantically, she pulls the sheets from where they had been discarded at the end of the bed the previous night and yanks them up over both of them, disturbing Rowan’s position as her big Fae blanket and causing him to let out a sleepy sound of protest. Ignoring Aedion’s yammering on the other side of the door for a moment, Aelin looks down at her mate. Although his eyebrows are pulled together in irritation at being woken, his eyes are still closed and his entire body is spread on the bed like a sack of potatoes, his limbs intertwined with hers. The fact that Rowan can be so relaxed and content with her after...the events of the war...it warms Aelin’s heart, and she can’t help but press a fond kiss to his forehead.

Unfortunately, Aedion interrupts Aelin’s musings by pushing the bedroom door open in an infuriated huff. At the sight of the two mates tangled together under the sheets, he sighs in exasperation, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair.

“You both need to get up. Now . Your wedding is in only a few hours!”

“Technically...we’re already married,” Aelin argues half-heartedly.

“ Yes , I know, but this is an official ceremony. To show Terrasen that we’re on the path to recovery. And you’ll both be crowned. I have to go meet Chaol and Nesryn to show them the way to the castle, and if you stay in bed, you’ll never get ready in time and I’ll be waiting to walk you down the aisle and you won’t be there and Rowan won’t be waiting for you at the other end and I’ll just be standing there and the whole thing will turn into a massive disaster and–”

“Gods, Aedion. Fine . If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the one getting married in front of the entire city, not me. We’re getting up, okay?”

Aedion scowls and doesn’t move. “Promise me,” he says as Aelin rolls her eyes.

“I promise, Aedion. As soon as I can get this buzzard up,” she replies, causing Rowan to pinch her side in retaliation, “we’ll get dressed and I’ll go find Lysandra and Elide to get ready for the wedding. Okay? Now, get out.”

Her cousin lets out a breath. “Okay.” He leaves the room and closes the door behind him reluctantly.

As soon as he’s gone, Aelin rolls over to face her mate. His eyes are wide open now and they meet hers without hesitation. “Good morning,” he says, his voice low and rough, with the undertone of a fond smile.

“Morning.”

“Should we really get up?”

“As much as I hate to say it...we are going to be getting married and crowned in front of most of Terrasen today. And I’d rather not see my cousin die prematurely of stress and rage.”

Rowan heaves a large sigh, kisses Aelin deeply, and pushes himself from the bed to gather his clothes and dress himself. Aelin swears she can feel the touch of his lips on hers even minutes later, when she is dressed in a casual tunic and on her way through the halls to Lysandra’s room to get ready.

……………………………………….

The day Nesryn, Chaol, and their guests reach Orynth, the sun is high above them and the sky is an impossible shade of blue. They make their way through the cobblestone streets of the city, their horses’ hooves clopping loudly on the stone.

Summer is approaching, so a warm breeze drifts through the air. Newly hatched bugs flutter lazily on their small wings. Bright and colorful birds, native to Terrasen, dart back and forth through buildings and alleyways.

And the people...Chaol cannot help but marvel what a difference a year and a restored Queen made on Terrasen. The last time he saw the people of Terrasen, they were starving, desolate, and clinging to any piece of hope that they could.

Now they are magnificent. They are everywhere – hanging silver and green banners over the streets, draping vibrant streamers from their balconies, darting out of doors and pushing carts full of fresh food. The smell of freshly cooked bread hits Chaol’s nostrils. Children are laughing, dressed in their best clothes and running from alley to alley, chasing each other and avoiding the scolding looks of their mothers. Somewhere nearby, a dog barks. The city is full of noise and excitement, obviously thrilled that their queen is soon to be married.

Chaol glances to his left and right. Nesryn watches everything attentively. She remains stoic, but Chaol knows her well enough to know that she is amazed by the activity and vibrancy of the city. Wide grins split Evalin and Rhoe’s faces, and Chaol knows they couldn’t be happier to see their citizens happy and thriving. They both wear hoods to disguise their identity for now – they don’t want to shock anyone too soon. Nehemia simply sits atop her elegant stallion and watches with wide eyes. Sam seems to not be able to decide what to watch. His head darts from side to side, taking everything in with awe.

Before long, they reach the blinding white castle of Orynth. From the ground, Chaol thinks it seem high enough to touch the clouds. All six of the visitors dismount in the shade, a few meters away from the closed castle gates.

“Stay here,” Chaol says, absentmindedly rubbing a hand through his scruffy brown hair. “Aedion is supposed to meet us. I’ll go talk to him first so he isn’t too shocked when he sees you. Ryn, can you make sure they don’t wander off?”

“Yes sir,” Nesyrn replies with a mock salute. Chaol leans over and presses a quick kiss to her lips before turning away and striding toward the guards at the castle gates. There are just two of them, but they stand to attention as he reaches them. They wear silver and green armor to commemorate the upcoming wedding. “Captain Westfall, welcome. The Queen and her court have been expecting you,” one of the guards says. He must recognize me from the war , Chaol thinks. Indeed, he notices a long, wicked scar reaching across the man’s forehead, indicating that he had most likely seen a lot of fighting on the battlefield during the war.

“Thank you,” he replies, “Is there any way you could send Prince Aedion down? He was supposed to meet us but he must have been delayed. We brought some unexpected guests with us, and I think it would be best if he could warn Aelin before she sees them.” The guards peer at the other five visitors curiously.

“Absolutely, sir,” the second guard says before slipping through the gates and jogging through the front courtyard to the massive doors to the castle.   

……………………………………….

Less than ten minutes after they dismounted, a member of Aelin’s court emerges from the castle and heads towards Aedion at the gates. Evalin recognizes him as a court member due to his striking green tunic, the sword at his side, and the small golden circlet atop his head.

As he gets closer, Evalin leans forward and squints, hoping to recognize him. The man’s hair is shoulder-length and golden, and his nose is slender with a small crook.

He looks a little bit like...Oh my gods , Evalin thinks, Oh my gods. It’s Aedion . She reaches for Rhoe’s hand out of reflex, and it is clear he’s recognized Aedion as well, as his face is two shades paler. Chaol and Aedion grasp arms and embrace, grinning and casually conversing.

Suddenly Chaol’s hand reaches back to scratch his neck nervously, and Aedion’s face drops in shock. Chaol must have told him that we’re here.

……………………………………….

“Captain,” Aedion greets.

“Prince,” Chaol replies. The two shake hands and grip each other in a tight hug, slapping each other on their backs.

“How have you been? How’s Nesryn? And Dorian?”

“They’re great, actually. Nesryn came with me. After everything that happened during the war...we’re slowly recovering. Dorian is still doing...something with Manon. I’m not sure how that’s going to end, but he’s happy. How is everyone here? It seems like the city has certainly been busy preparing for the big day.”

“It’s great, isn’t it? I’ve never seen people so excited about something before. Aelin and Rowan are...still recovering. But they’re better. I don’t hear their nightmares as much anymore. Rowan is more relaxed than he used to be – less overprotective.”

“That’s great,” Chaol says, genuinely happy for his friends. “Listen, Aedion…” he continues, “I’m not sure how to put this in a way that you would believe.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just...we brought a few guests with us, and I really don’t think they’re who you’d expect.”

Aedion stiffens. “Do I need to be worried for Aelin?”

“No! No, no, it’s not like that. It’s...well, they used to be dead. But apparently Mala resurrected them at the same time as Aelin. They ended up in Adarlan and found their way to the castle. They arrived just before Nesryn and I were leaving, and we volunteered to take them here. To Aelin,” Chaol explains nervously.

“What does Aelin have to do with this? Did they know her?”

“Yes. And you knew some of them too.” Aedion stiffens.

“Who are they?”

“Two are them are Sam Cortland and Nehemia Ytger.”

“Excuse me?!” Aedion exclaims. His face drains of color.

“I think you can guess why I thought it would be best to meet with you before we saw Aelin. I don’t want to shock her too badly.”

Aedion nods absentmindedly. “Yes...I think I will let Rowan know first, after the wedding and coronation. Who are the other two?”

“I think it might be better if you saw that for yourself,” Chaol says with caution.

“Very well.”

With Aedion at his side, Chaol makes his way back towards the area where the five other visitors and their horses stand.

Now that Aedion knows who some of the visitors are, he can identify Nehemia by her dark skin and hair, and notices a brown haired young man beside her who he assumes is Sam Cortland.

When they reach the group, Chaol calls to Nesryn, and she and the two other guests turn around from where they were gathered.

Every single bone in Aedion’s body goes numb.

Because before him stand his adopted parents – those who took him in when he lost his mother. The woman who wiped his tears when he woke up from nightmares and the man who taught him how to hold a sword.

Evalin Ashryver and Rhoe Galathynius.

Chapter Text

Once Aedion gets over his shock, he lets out an incredulous laugh. It comes out sharply, almost like a dog’s bark. His adoptive parents are here, right in front his eyes, in the flesh, back from the dead. He can hardly believe it. And Aelin... oh Gods, Aelin . She’s going to be so happy.

At the thought of his cousin’s future joy when she finds out that her parents are now alive and well, an ear-to-ear grin splits Aedion’s face. Tears well up in his eyes, and he rushes forward to embrace Evalin and Rhoe at the same time that they move towards him. The three meet in the middle, hugging each other as if they can hardly believe their eyes. They’re a family again. All they need now is Aelin. But first...it’s time for a wedding.

……………………………………….

Bells are ringing.

They echo through the streets of the city, telling its citizens it’s time, it’s time, it’s time .

And Aedion is running. Oh Gods, oh Gods, shit, he thinks, I’m going to be late . He spent too much time reuniting with Rhoe and Evalin, and meeting Aelin’s old friends. He forces his legs to pump faster. The walls of the castle flash through his vision as he races past them. As he hurries around a corner, his boots sliding on the newly-polished floors, he nearly smashes into a servant girl carrying a load of towels in her arms.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he yells, already halfway down the next hallway. Up a flight of stairs here, down this corridor, turning another sharp corner, and there . The massive wooden doors to Lysandra’s chambers are open. Lysandra herself is standing in the doorway.

Her dress is a deep green to compliment his tunic. Its soft velvet fabric shimmers in the light from the torches in the hall. Her dark curls are wrapped around each other, piled on top of her head. One strand falls from its fastenings, brushing against her pale cheek.

She takes his breath away.

“I swear to all the gods, Aedion. One more minute and you would’ve been late.” Her arms are firmly crossed on her chest. Oops .

“I just–downstairs, they,” Aedion struggles to get the words out as he tries to catch his breath.

“Do you have something to say?” Lysandra seems both amused and pissed off.

“It can wait until after the wedding, I don’t want to distract Aelin,” he replies, finally regaining his breath and straightening his tunic.

“She’s ready,” Lysandra says, and then gestures for Aelin to step out of the room.

When Aelin steps into the light, it takes all of Aedion’s willpower not to cry. No more , he thinks. No more tears, no matter how happy they may be . His cousin is stunning. And she looks happy...happier than he’s ever seen her.

Her wedding dress is a work of art. It’s an off-the-shoulder, floor-length gown, fraught with lace. Small strands of green and silver fabric are woven throughout the skirt of the dress to represent Terrasen and to match her husband’s tunic. Her hair is swept up to the top of her head much like Lysandra’s, with more elaborate twists. Many of her scars – old and new – are on display, but she wears them proudly.

“Time to go?” He asks after a moment. His cousin nods. She steps forward and takes his arm.   

……………………………………….

After meeting with Aedion, the six visitors to Terrasen refresh themselves in a nearby inn.

The wedding is to take place in an enormous square right in front of the castle – the largest in Orynth. As the bells toll, they hurry down to the courtyard, hoping to get a spot close to the ceremony.

The summer heat is beating down with the sun, and Sam is already beginning to sweat in his thick tunic. He follows Chaol, Nesryn, and...Aelin’s parents. He still struggles to call her Aelin in his head, but it’s been getting easier.

Perhaps once I see her , he thinks, it will be better . Logically, he knows that she is older now, and in love with someone else. Her Fae mate, no less. But a small, irrational part of him, deep inside, still harbors a bit of hope that once she sees him...her old love...she might change her mind. Sam chases away his thoughts with a scowl and a shake of his head. Nehemia, walking beside him, shoots him a questioning look, but he waves her off.

Nehemia...intrigues Sam. She’s normally rather quiet, but when she does speak she is certainly not soft spoken. He wonders what she and Aelin were like when they were together. Were they really so close? The only female that Aelin knew when she was with Sam was Lysandra...and they never got along.

Nevertheless, Nehemia is interesting. In the bright summer sun and in her fresh, new Ellywe dress, Sam thinks she looks like some sort of ethereal princess. She is a princess , he reminds himself.  

As the group walks closer, they peek over the heads of the people in front of them, trying to get a good look at the groom, who already stands at the altar. When they finally glimpse him, Sam stumbles and nearly falls flat on his face. “Why-why is he,” he stutters, bewildered, “He’s huge!”

Next to him, Chaol’s eyes shine with amusement and he can’t hold back a chuckle. Nehemia’s eyes widen at the sight of the great Rowan Whitethorn, although Sam suspects the look to be one of admiration as opposed to one of surprise. Sam scoffs.

Suddenly, the crowd around them moves, parting. Several feet away, two golden heads appear at the start of the aisle. Sam, Nehemia, Rhoe, and Evalin can do nothing but watch in awe as Aedion walks his cousin down the aisle.

“She’s beautiful,” Evalin whispers, taking Rhoe’s hand.

All six of them have to hold back tears.

……………………………………….

The tolling of the bells grow softer and softer, stopping completely when the two cousins reach the end of the aisle. Rowan takes Aelin’s hand from Aedion’s with a nod and a soft smile. Finally, the two mates face each other. Both of their hands are now linked between them. Softly, hidden from the crowd, Aelin gives her mate’s hand a squeeze. As the priest begins the opening part of the ceremony, he squeezes back.

Ready, buzzard? She quirks an eyebrow and his heart gives an extra thud in his chest.

Are you? As always, their silent communication is flawless.

Yes .

To whatever end.

To whatever end , Aelin replies.

Suddenly, the priest addresses them, “Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn, are you prepared to join together today, as man and wife, King and Queen?”

“We are,” they reply in unison.

“With this wedding, you promise to take each other, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, through war and through peace, for eternity.”

“We do.”

“Please recite your individual vows now.”

They both nod, and Rowan exhales shakily. They lock eyes. “Aelin, Fireheart,” he begins, “I will admit, when we met, neither of us left the best first impressions.”

You mean when we met you were a grumpy bastard and I was drunk on a rooftop in Varese. Aelin inserts silently. Rowan smothers a laugh.

“I will also admit,” he continues, “That I thought you were insufferable. I saw a kindred spirit in you, and I hated it. At that point in my life...I wanted to stay isolated from the world. And I could already tell that you would be the one to bring me out of it. When I first saw you on that rooftop in Varese, I knew you were just as broken as I was.” Rowan takes another shaky breath. “I should’ve known it right away. I should’ve known that the connection I felt between us was more than just one between kindred spirits, or later, one between carranam. I should’ve recognized the tug of the bond between us as something besides the pull of a blood oath. And I’m sorry...I’m so sorry that I didn’t see it sooner.

“My past had broken me–so much so that I didn’t even recognize my own mate. But you saw past those jagged edges. You saved me, Aelin.” Rowan’s voice is trembling now, and two tears slip down Aelin’s cheeks before she can stop them. The kind of tears that have fallen before you even realize you were about to start crying.

Her heart is full, her face is warm, her city is around her, and her family is by her side. Happiness , she thinks. This is what happiness feels like. “You saved me,” Rowan repeats, “And I will never stop saving you. I will be here with you. To whatever end.”

And then it’s Aelin’s turn. She takes a moment to wipe the tears from her cheeks.  “Buzzard. The day you found me in Varese, all I wanted was to see Maeve, get the information I needed, and disappear. I didn’t want any more friends. I was done. I wasn’t...living. I had just lost one of my best friends. I was lost, and you found me. I didn’t expect the trip to see Maeve would evolve into months and months of training sessions, of being beaten into the dirt and forced to get back up again. You helped me to live again. And no matter how hard I tried to resist, you became my friend. I started to care for you.

“You brought me out of the darkness I had fallen into, and taught me how to use my fire for good. The lines between us kept blurring. Eventually, I fell in love with you. I don’t know when it happened. It might’ve been within weeks. Maybe it was months. All I know is that it took me much too long to realize it. And even longer to realize...that you were my mate. You were the one I was destined to be with, to love, for the rest of my life.

“It took a threat to your life to make me realize it. When I saw that arrow go through your shoulder, I felt it too. And then I knew. And when I was taken–” her voice cracks, “I was terrified. But I knew I could get through it. I knew I could, because there was that bond, burning between us. And even if I didn’t make it, I knew it would all be worth it. It would all be worth it, because you would live, and Terrasen would live. Because you’re worth it.” Tears fall down Aelin’s cheek with each blink. But she’s smiling. Rowan grins back at her, his eyes shining. “But now I’m here, and I’m not leaving. Never again. I’m here with you, to whatever end.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius. You may kiss.” And they do.

Before their kiss is over, Evangeline and Lysandra are walking down the aisle towards them. Each female holds a pillow, and on each pillow rests a crown. The crowns of the King and Queen of Terrasen. The last time they sat on the heads of Terrasen rulers, it was on the heads of Aelin’s parents. At the thought, Aelin takes an uncertain breath. Rowan, of course, always in tune with her, squeezes her hand in encouragement.

When they reach the altar, Lysandra steps in front of Aelin and Evangeline steps in front of Rowan. The priest, along with a high-ranking lord of Terrasen, stand to the side.

“Place your right hands gently upon the crown,” the lord says. He seems quite old; his cheeks hang like the jowls of a dog, and his gray eyebrows move like they are a living creature. Aelin and Rowan each place their hand on the crown that is held in front of them. Aelin’s is very intricate – its base is a simple ring shape, but from that base stretch dozens of tiny, thin gold pieces, twining together to look like the branches of a young tree. Rowan’s is nearly the same, but with thicker branches.

Now, the priest steps forward. “Repeat after me,” he says.

“I, as leader and sovereign of the great country of Terrasen, promise to uphold my position of leadership with integrity and thoughtfulness.”

Aelin and Rowan repeat the words solemnly, their hands on their crowns.

“I swear,” the priest continues, “to never invoke war unless absolutely necessary. To always keep the interests of the people at heart. And to never rule unjustly or cruelly.”

They repeat.

Finally, the priest cracks a smile. “You may now place the crowns,” he says to Lysandra and Evangeline. Lysandra and Aelin exchange grins as Aelin is crowned as Queen. Evangeline lifts the crown in her hands gently towards Rowan, and he bends down to accept it.

Rowan and Aelin straighten. They clasp hands and raise them above their heads to the cheers of their people. The King and Queen of Terrasen, united.

Chapter Text

Aelin is running. She’s out of breath, not from racing up the stairs of the castle – but from her uncontrollable laughter. It’s bubbling out of her like the little bit of champagne she downed at the ceremony outside...which is probably contributing to her giggles.

Her wedding dress is trailing behind her, and the stone floor of the castle is cool beneath her bare feet. She lost her shoes at some point, she doesn’t remember when.

Her hand is slick and sweaty from the heat, but her fingers are intertwined with Rowan’s as she drags him behind her. He’s laughing too, quieter than she is, but still...the very sound of it makes Aelin’s heart swell even further than she thought it could. She can’t remember herself ever being this happy before. Here, in her castle, with her mate, her husband, her king.

She looks back at him as they stumble around another corner, on their way to their quarters. His eyes are folded up at the corners from his smile, and twinkling with mirth.

They hurry up another staircase, spiraling around and around and around, bare feet slapping on the stone, and then they reach their quarters. Without pausing for breath, Aelin unceremoniously shoves open the double doors, drags Rowan through the sitting room and into their bedroom, locking the door behind them. She wastes no time, and shoves Rowan down onto the bed.

They don’t emerge for a long while.

……………………………………….

“Where’s Aelin? Have you seen Aelin?” Aedion has asked almost every single member of the court. The ceremony is winding down, the dancing has stopped, and Aelin and Rowan are nowhere to be found.

“Aedion? Hey!” Fenrys calls him over, standing by the cake table with Vaughan. “Are you looking for the happy couple?”

“ Yes ,” Aedion says exasperatedly, “There are...guests from Adarlan here to see Aelin, but she disappeared after the dancing stopped.”

Vaughan smirks, taking a sip of a strangely colored drink. “She and Whitethorn left in quite a hurry,” Fenrys answers, “To...do things. You know, special things that people do when they love each oth-”

“Okay! Okay. Please don’t continue that sentence.” Aedion rubs a hand over his face. “To their quarters, I assume?”

“That’s what it looked like. Are you really going to interrupt them?” Fenrys raises his eyebrows.

“No, I’m not an idiot,” Aedion says with a chuckle, “But her parents really want to see her, and I’m not sure how to explain this to them.”

Vaughan chokes and spits out his drink. “I’m sorry, her what?!”

Aedion sighs wearily and gestures, pointing to a shady corner at the other side of the courtyard. There, Chaol, Nesryn, and the other four guests are looking around anxiously.

“Oh, Gods,” Fenrys says.

……………………………………….

Two hours later:

Aelin and Rowan are sprawled out on a massive, soft rug in front of the dark fireplace in their bedroom. Their chests rise and fall rapidly in tandem, sweat coating their bodies. It’s as they’re laying there in silence that a cautious knock sounds on the door.

“I’ll bet you ten coins that it’s Aedion,” Aelin says with a smirk.

Before Rowan can offer a retort, Aedion voice comes through the muffled door, “I heard that!”

Rowan snorts, pushes himself up, and gathers his pants from where Aelin had flung them earlier.

“Aelin! Open the door. Please . There are some people who want to see you. And I need to warn you first, so you’re not...too shocked.”

Rowan stiffens as he is buckling his trousers. “What do you mean, shocked?” He asks.

“Please, just open the door. After both of you are clothed, of course.”

“One minute,” Aelin huffs. She hunts around the room for her scattered undergarments, and throws on a simple yet formal pair of tunic and trousers. Rowan unlocks the door and swings it open.

Aedion steps in. “Aelin,” he starts, “I’m not sure how to…” he trails off, twisting his hands together. Aelin crosses her arms.

“Spit it out, cousin.”

“You know when Mala brought you back?” he asks. Rowan’s fists clench.

“Yes? What about it?” Aelin’s voice remains steady, although hidden ghosts lurk behind her eyes.

“It turns out that you weren’t the only one she resurrected. She thought...as a reward, I guess, to resurrect some of your loved ones who had died.”

“Excuse me?” Aelin says very softly.

“Your parents, Nehemia Ytger, and Sam Cortland are all downstairs waiting to see you.” Rowan chokes on his own spit, doubling over coughing.

Aelin’s face is dangerous. “That’s not a very funny joke, Aedion.”

Aedion blanches. “It’s not a joke, I swear. I didn’t believe it either, at first. Chaol said they showed up in Adarlan right before he and Nesryn were set to leave for the wedding. But...it’s definitely them. And they really, really want to see you.”

Aelin’s knees start to buckle, and Rowan is right there, scooping her up and setting her down on one of the chairs by the fireplace.

“Can you just-” Aelin’s voice chokes up a bit. “Can you just give me a minute?”

“Sure,” Aedion says softly. “We’ll be in the sitting room in my quarters whenever you’re ready.”

He leaves, softly shutting the door behind him. Rowan sits on the arm of the chair, pulling her into his side. “Do you think it’s a trap?” Aelin asks.

Rowan is silent for a moment. “I trust Aedion’s judgement,” he says finally, “If Aedion says that it’s really them, then it is.”

Aelin lets out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

Rowan doesn’t reply, and when Aelin cranes her neck to look up at him, he doesn’t meet her eyes. “Rowan, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Fireheart. Are you ready to go downstairs?”

Aelin recognizes the false tone in his voice and narrows her eyes. “What’s wrong?” She demands again. This time it’s Rowan’s turn to let out a breath.

“Nothing.”

“If you’re worried about Sam, I swear to all the gods I will push you off this chair.”

Rowan’s answering swallow and continued refusal to meet her eyes gives Aelin her answer. She shoves him off the chair, and he lands on the rug with a disgruntled thud. But then she gets off of the chair as well and kneels before Rowan, taking his face in her hands. “You buzzard,” she says. “What did I tell you just a few hours ago? I’m here with you, to whatever end. I know that sometimes, after all that we’ve done, it’s hard to think that you deserve all of this. I have those days too. But you deserve this, Rowan. Happiness. The fact that Sam may or may not be alive changes nothing. Sixteen-year-old Celaena loved Sam. Yes, I still care for him. But I love you. You are my mate, my husband, and my king. I am never leaving you. Do you understand?”

Rowan can barely hold himself together enough to nod. He presses his forehead to Aelin’s, and the two of them gather themselves before making their way to Aedion’s rooms.

……………………………………….

Aelin’s heart is beating faster than it’s ever beat before. Her hands are shaking a bit as she stands outside the door, so she twists her fingers tightly together. What if this isn’t real? What if I wake up and this was all a dream? Aelin thinks. What if it is real? And they can’t look me in the eyes after all I’ve done? All the blood on my hands...Oh Gods-

Rowan’s hand on her back interrupts her thoughts. He’s silent beside her, letting her think things through on her own, but his hand starts to rub gentle circles on her upper back. Her heartbeat slows a little. She takes a deep breath. She knocks. Aedion opens the door.

Aelin walks through the doorway, sees her parents standing by a window, looking back at her with tears in their eyes, and she crumples to her knees. Her hands cover her mouth as she tries to hold back her sobs.

She can still remember the sound of her father’s voice as he told her stories before bed. The feel of her mother’s fingers running through her young curls. An image of a bed wet with blood running from slit throats flashes through her mind. But they’re here, right in front of her.

“Mom?” She says in the soft, broken voice of a child. Evalin lets out a cry and hurries to Aelin, gathering her in her arms. There’s so much more of her now that she’s grown, but she still fits in her mother’s arms. Both of them weep, and Rhoe wraps his arms around them as well. Their smell...that was one thing Aelin had forgotten. That warm, comforting smell that makes her think of home , and safety , and mom and dad .

Aelin reaches up a hand to clear her blurry eyes from tears. That’s when she sees them. Sam and Nehemia. She sees them on the other side of the room, over her mother’s shoulder.

Nehemia has a hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. She’s smiling. She looks exactly like she did the morning before she died. Sam is by her side, staring at Aelin and her parents with wide eyes.

Oh Gods. After everything, they’re here. Right in front of her. Her breath catches in her chest. Rhoe and Evalin, noting the direction of her gaze, step back for a moment. Aelin takes a small step. And then another. And then she is running, throwing her arms around Nehemia’s neck. “Fleetfoot missed you,” she murmurs in her ear, because she can’t think of anything else to say. Nehemia laughs as she cries, gripping Aelin back tightly. And then Nehemia steps back too.

Aelin looks at Sam, and Sam looks back. She reaches a hand out, as if to touch him, to make sure he’s real, but drops it at the last minute and instead wraps her arms around him. He feels exactly like he felt when she did this for the first time in Skull’s Bay. He’s frozen, not quite sure what to do with his arms. She pulls back and looks around the room at her assembled family. At some point, Rowan had slipped into the room behind her. He’s smiling at her.  

She knows they’ll all have to have a talk later, about where they all fit in this new world. She’ll have to clear things up with Sam, catch up with her parents, and yell at Nehemia for leaving her and then hug her again. But for now, just being here with them again is okay. Everything is okay.

Chapter Text

The euphoric moment is interrupted with a small, strangled laugh from Nehemia. Aelin’s grin falters and she glances over at her recently-returned friend. Nehemia seems flustered, and she quickly looks away from Aelin. But not soon enough for others to notice where her gaze had fallen.

On Aelin’s neck.

Oh. Oh. 

The spot on her neck where Nehemia is now pointedly not looking at...is exactly where Rowan’s teeth had latched onto during certain activities less than an hour ago. Aelin shoots a glare at Rowan from across the room. It seems you may have left a mark .

Rowan blinks and then grins deviously. I won’t apologize .

Evalin is hiding a smile behind a slender hand, but Rhoe is flushed red and frowning uncomfortably. Aelin glances back at Sam. Behind an indifferent mask and blank expression, Aelin can see a mix of sadness and anger whirling in his eyes.

Suddenly, Aedion snorts. “If any of you are planning on staying, you’d better get used to this kind of thing. Let me tell you, just last week I walked into the kitchens at midnight, hoping to steal a quick snack, and the two of them were–”

“ Aedion ,” Aelin warns, sending him a withering glare. He shuts his mouth abruptly, trying to hide a mischievous smile. And that’s when the door opens.

“Aedion, can I – Oh. Hello?” Lysandra, still in her beautiful gown that she wore to the ceremony, bursts into the room without hesitation, addressing her demi-fae lover, but stops when she notices that there’s other company in the room.

Sam chokes on air. “Lys-Lysandra?!”

Oh no. 

Lysandra, still standing by the door, turns pale as snow. “Dear Gods,” she whispers, “Is this a dream?”

“Lysandra, darling,” Aedion begins, stepping forward to grasp Lysandra’s hand, “Would you step outside with me for a moment?” She nods slowly, her eyes still fixed on Sam with shellshocked expression. Aelin notices that the hand that Aedion isn’t holding is shaking slightly. Lysandra and Aedion disappear into the hallway and their footsteps fade as the two of them move further into the castle. Leaving Aelin, Rowan, Evalin, Rhoe, Sam and Nehemia alone together.

The four guests watch the King and Queen of Terrasen expectantly, obviously hoping that one of them will say something, or at least lead them to their rooms for the evening. The setting summer sun gives the room a warm orange glow.

Rowan is the first to take action. He steps towards Aelin’s parents, and she inhales sharply. But Rowan doesn’t say anything. He places one hand over his stomach and one over his back, and bends at the waist.

Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius bows before Evalin Ashryver and Rhoe Galathynius, the parents of his wife, mate, and Queen. “Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, at your service,” he says. “I...will be forever grateful for the beautiful daughter you raised. She’s changed my life. In more ways than one.”

When Rowan finishes speaking, Evalin smiles warmly at him and steps forward, wrapping her arms around Rowan’s large frame. Aelin can’t help but smother a smile behind her hand at the look on her husband’s face when Evalin hugs him. He looks positively bewildered, mouth gaping and eyes wide, too frozen to return the hug. “Thank you ,” she whispers in his ear, “For taking care of her. For loving her. For standing with her.”

While he’s fairly open with Aelin and their court, Rowan has never been a very warm or inviting person and, as a result, rarely receives hugs. He doesn’t quite seem to know what to do with himself when Evalin withdraws, but Rhoe, a portrait of fierceness with his brows close together and his arms crossed, draws Rowan’s attention away.  

Rowan is never the one to let himself be intimidated by others, and he faces his mate’s father, stretching his arm forward for a handshake. Rhoe hesitates for a moment, searching Rowan’s face for something. He seems to find it and his body language loosens as he reaches out to firmly shake his new son-in-law’s hand.

……………………………………….

A little while later, Rowan and Aelin are making their way through the castle halls with Evalin, Rhoe, Sam and Nehemia to show the guests to their rooms for the night. But, before they arrive at the first set of rooms, they notice a head of light hair popping out from a room in front of them down the hall. Fenrys .

“Fenrys, my boyo!” Rowan calls after him. “I have to say, your performance during the wedding was most spectacular.” Fenrys turns, startled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replies with a scowl.

“Oh? Are you sure?” Rowan asks, “Does the word flowers ring a bell?”

“ Don’t ,” Fenrys warns, pointing his finger at Rowan. With that, Rowan loses his composure and lets out a booming laugh.

The four guests look around questioningly – they’d been paying too much attention to Aelin during the wedding to notice much else. 

“Fenrys lost a bet with another member of my court, Lorcan,” Aelin explains, “And he was forced to act as the flower girl, or flower guy, in this case, at my wedding.” 

“He had to carry a basket of flowers down the aisle and sprinkle them across the ground as he walked,” Rowan continues, still chuckling.

Fenrys grumbles angrily. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” He asks pointedly.

“Yes, yes. We’ll let you be,” Rowan says. The group of six start to walk again, leaving Fenrys behind, but not before Rowan can make another comment. “I think I see a flower petal in your hair!”

Fenrys sends a rude gesture after his friend.

 ……………………………………….

They reach the rooms meant for Aelin’s parents first, and Aelin follows them, leaving the others out in the hall.

As soon as they enter the sitting room, Evalin takes Aelin’s hands in her own. “Your...your hands,” Evalin says. Her eyes well up. “They’re the same size as mine. The last time I saw you, your hands were so small...I could fit both of them in just one of mine.”

“Mother, I…” Aelin chokes up before she can finish her sentence.

“Oh, Aelin, you’re so strong. So beautiful. We’re so, so proud of the young woman you’ve become. No matter how many scars these hands have now.” As Evalin speaks, the tears that have been building in her eyes finally spill over her cheeks. And yet, those same cheeks are nearly split in half with a brilliant smile. “And, of course, you’ve done quite well for yourself, in terms of your handsome gentleman.” Her fingers brush the bruise on the side of her daughter’s neck. Aelin blushes but grins.

Her father clears his throat uncomfortably at the reference to the activities Aelin had been partaking in with her husband earlier, but nevertheless, he steps forward and shares words similar to those of his wife. When he finishes speaking, he takes a large step forward and wraps his arms around Aelin, lifting her clear off the ground.

“Are you...will you both be staying in the castle? With me?” Aelin asks after her father places her back on the ground. Her parents smile. 

“If you’ll have us,” her mother replies. And the matter is settled.

When Aelin re-enters the hall, Rowan is bright red. She gives him a questioning look. Do you enjoy being ravaged in broom closets? He asks.

Aelin nearly stumbles. What?

Nothing… Rowan’s eyes are twinkling. Nehemia was just telling me some interesting stories.

Oh Gods.

……………………………………….

Nehemia’s room is just down the hall from Rhoe and Evalin, so they stop there next. Aelin opens the door into the sitting room and follows Nehemia in. Her heart is pounding.

The two friends stand across from each other, staring for a few moments, unsure of how to begin.

“Aelin, I–” Nehemia starts to speak, but is interrupted by a fierce punch to the shoulder from Aelin, nearly knocking her to the ground. 

“ Never ,” Aelin growls between her teeth, “Never do that again.” Nehemia stares back at her, eyes wide. “ Never keep me in the dark like that again. You were…” Aelin’s voice breaks with emotion. “You were there for me, and then you weren’t, and I saw your body, and…” She straightens suddenly. “That hurt. When you didn’t tell me what was going on, when I found out you were hiding things. I know...I know that that was how it was supposed to happen, that Elena was behind a lot of it. I love you, but if we are to remain friends, you must promise never to do anything like that again.” Aelin’s expression is solemn. There is a moment of pause, and Nehemia nods.

“Will you...will you be staying here? Would you like to? With me?” Aelin asks.

Nehemia hesitates, but shakes her head. “No...I’ve missed you dearly, but I also miss my parents. My siblings. My home. I’ll stay here for a few more days, but soon I should be heading back to Ellywe.”

“You’ll come back to visit, though? You promise?”

 “I swear it.”

Aelin, no longer able to restrain herself, jumps forward and throws her arms around Nehemia, trying not to cry. “If you die again, I will resurrect you myself and murder you again.” Nehemia simply wraps her arms around Aelin in turn. Aelin can smell her. That familiar scent that goes along with her friend, reminding her of mornings of chocolate, giggling conversations, and a warm dog.

As if sensing her train of thought, a lump in front of the fireplace awakens and begins to move. The shape rises, sniffing the air and turning towards the two girls. The air is filled with barking and whining sounds as it races towards them.

“Fleetfoot!” Nehemia shouts.

……………………………………….

The rooms that have been prepared for Sam are one floor down, but it’s not a long walk. The three that are left – Sam, Aelin, and Rowan – reach the door within a few minutes.

Before following Sam in, Aelin squeezes Rowan’s arm. I’ll be right out. 

He nods. I understand .

Aelin’s heart eases at this. Rowan knows she would never do anything to hurt him or to damage their relationship. He trusts her to act on her own wishes while alone with her former lover. He seems slightly unsettled and shifts on his feet as she turns to open the door, but he pushes back his territorial instincts. Aelin couldn’t love him more in that moment. 

As soon as the door closes, the awkwardness sets in. Neither Sam nor Aelin are quite sure where to look. Aelin moves, as if to take his hand, but thinks better of it. She lets Sam take the lead. She knows he’s uncomfortable – he recently returned from the dead to find that the girl he loves is an immortal Fae Queen who is married and has a mate. She remembers the conflict she saw stirring in his eyes earlier.

After a few moments of awkward silence and not meeting each other’s eyes, Sam speaks.

“Are you...are you happy? With him?” He asks. His voice is quiet and unsure, but he meets her eyes now. 

“Yes, very much so,” Aelin says, smiling.

“So there’s no chance? For us, I mean.” 

“No,” Aelin replies softly. Now, she does take his hand. “I loved you Sam. I loved you with all my heart. There were times, after your death and before I realized what Rowan was to me, that I wondered if perhaps you had been my mate. Thank you, for giving me the chance to love and be loved, after my parents died and Arobynn shaped me into a killer. And I want you to know, I missed you so much after you were gone. But the memory of you was what kept me strong while I was in Endovier. I would tell myself, over and over in the darkness, my name is Celaena Sardothien. And I will not be afraid .”

“I missed you when I was gone too,” Sam chokes out, “I had hoped that...there would be room for me in your heart when I reunited with you. Now I see that there isn’t. But, as long as you’re happy, as long as he treats you well, that’s okay.” 

“Oh, Sam. There is room in my heart for you. I do love you. Just...not in the way that I love Rowan. I love you like I love Aedion, and Fenrys, and Nehemia, and Lysandra. And know that you will always have a place here, in this castle and in Terrasen, for as long as you would like.” 

“Thank you,” Sam replies, “But I think perhaps I won’t be staying here. At least for a while. On the way here, Nehemia invited me to come with her. To travel the continent and see Ellywe. I think I might accept that offer. I’ll stay for a few days and I’ll leave when she does. I’ll visit later, but I think I need time. To move on, and to find out where I belong in this new world.”

Aelin nods. “I understand,” she says.

Before long, she is wishing Sam and good night and shutting the door behind her.

……………………………………….

Just minutes later, Rowan and Aelin are in their nightclothes – Aelin in a scandalous gold nightgown and Rowan in nothing but a loose pair of pants – and settled in their bed. The sun has set, but the moon shines into their open window, lighting their room alongside the lantern by their bed.

Aelin is sitting up and leaning on a pillow, entirely focused on the book in her hand. Rowan has his head on her stomach and his arms wrapped around her. His eyes are closed and he lets out a soft sounds of contentment, similar to a cat’s purr, as Aelin’s free hand runs through his hair and scratches at his scalp. 

Soon, minutes turn to hours, and Aelin is forced to put her book away as her husband’s soft snores and the weight of her tired eyelids interrupt her focus. She slides down in her husband’s grip and burrows under the covers, resting a hand on his bare chest and closing her eyes. 

And as she drifts away into the oblivion of sleep, all she can think is the future looks good . 

Chapter Text

4 years later…

“Rowan?! Where are the godsdamned cakes?” Aelin shouts across the kitchen. The two of them are helping the cooks (including Emrys) prepare things for the arrival of their guests, Sam and Nehemia.

“I put them in the ice box, love.”

“Oh really?”

“...yes?”

“Then why, might I ask, is the ice box EMPTY?”

“Um…”

“Rowan!”

“I didn’t touch them, I swear!”

Aelin glowers at Rowan from the other side of the kitchen. Suddenly, the sound of giggling spreads through the kitchen. Aelin’s eyes narrow. The slapping of tiny feet on tile floors gets louder and louder until...a tiny, 3-feet-tall, giggling blur of blond rushes by her.

“Oh no you don’t!” Aelin exclaims. She reaches down to snatch at the arm of her nephew before he can get past her. He shrieks, squirming and laughing violently as he tries to escape his aunt’s grip. “Caden, where do you think you’re going? You know better than to run around the kitchen like this.”

Caden shakes his head vigorously. “Not telling! Secret!” He says, his curly blond hair bouncing around his round, 3 year-old face. Rowan walks over to the two of them, a fond smile on his face. He kneels down next to Aelin, facing Caden.

“Caden, did you have anything to do with the missing cake?” He asks softly. A tiny giggle escapes Caden’s lips before he claps his little hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “Caden…” Rowan tries again.

“It was daddy’s idea!” Caden blurts out.

“Caden, come on!” Shouts a voice from the servants hallway behind the kitchen. Aedion.

Aelin lets go of Caden, storms past the tables covered in half-prepared food, yanks open the door the servants hallway and disappears around the corner. When she reappears, she’s pulling her cousin along behind her by the ear. In Aedion’s arms is the missing chocolate cake. “Aelin, Aelin, come on, it was a harmless prank, just a little bit of fun between a father and a son-” Aedion is pleading as Aelin drags him over to Rowan and Caden.

“I don’t care about your idiot pranks, Aedion ,” Aelin growls, “I care that we have cake to eat when our guests arrive. Now put the cake down .” She enunciates each word carefully, her face bright red with anger.

Rowan clears his throat behind her. “Aelin, can you come talk to me for a second?” He takes her by the hand, attempting to pull her attention away from Aedion. After a couple seconds of glaring, Aelin relents, following her husband to a secluded corner of the kitchen. Once they're alone, she sighs. Rowan gently turns her to face him, taking her hands in his.

“Fireheart, what’s wrong?” he asks, “It’s not like you to lash out at Caden like that.” Aelin avoids his gaze and the skin around his eyes crinkle with concern.

“I’m sorry,” Aelin says. Her shoulders slump. “I don’t know what's wrong with me…I guess I just didn’t sleep well last night, and I’ve been busy with all of the preparations for tonight and I haven’t had much time to eat. I also haven’t been feeling too well lately.” She rubs one of her eyes with the heel of her hand. Rowan sighs and puts his hands on Aelin’s shoulders, massaging gently, watching as the tension leaves her body. She leans forward until her forehead is resting on his chest. Both of them might’ve stayed in that position for another hour, if not for the sudden whisper coming from behind them.

“Aelin, can I borrow you for a second?” It’s Lysandra’s voice, coming from the doorway into the main hallway. She nods wearily, detaching herself from Rowan as he watches her go with concern.

Once both girls are far down the hallway, safely away from prying Fae ears, Lysandra stops and takes Aelin by the arm. Aelin, still feeling sluggish and drained after her outburst in the kitchen, looks at her in confusion. “What’s the matter?” She asks.

Lysandra looks hesitant, but says, “I couldn’t help but overhear what happened in the kitchen.” Aelin cringes, but Lysandra continues. “It wasn't like you Aelin. And I was thinking it could be possible that...well, when was the last time you had your monthly cycle?”

Aelin hesitates, and her eyes widen. “Shit,” she swears softly.

“How long, Aelin?”

“Two months, I think? I didn’t even think about it, everything’s been so busy lately.” Her face is a mix of emotions. “Do you think I could be…”

“I think you should see a healer.”

……………………………………….

Less than an hour later, Aelin is pacing around the bed in her and Rowan’s bedroom. Lysandra, sitting on the end of the bed and watching her, has been trying in vain to get her to calm down for several minutes.

“Aelin, please–”

“What if he doesn’t want this? I know he told me that he wanted to have children with me, but what if he was just trying to make me happy?” Her voice is soft but she speaks quickly, almost under her breath, wringing her hands in front of her. “What if it just brings back memories or Lyria? Will he–”

“Aelin!”

Aelin freezes mid-step and looks at Lysandra. Her eyes glint dangerously.  Lysandra sighs. “Thank you. Now please , sit down.” She pats the bed next to her. Aelin pauses for a moment before joining her friend. As soon as she sits, her shoulders slump and she rubs her hands over her face tiredly. Lysandra places her hands on Aelin’s shoulders, turning her friend to face her. “Aelin, look at me.” Aelin raises her eyes. “I promise you, Rowan will be thrilled. This is what both of you have been waiting for. He loves you very, very much. You have to tell him.”

Aelin bites her lip. Her hesitancy is uncharacteristic, but Lysandra understands. “I promise ,” she says again.

Aelin finally smiles, before throwing her arms around her friend. “Thanks, Lys. Love you.”

……………………………………….

An hour later, after careful planning and packing, Aelin finds Rowan talking to Aedion in the Great Hall. With a pack of picnic food over her shoulder, she leans up against the side of the doorway to the Great Hall, tilts her hips and sends a sultry wink to Rowan, who is watching her over Aedion’s shoulder.

Rowan holds up a finger, pausing Aedion in the middle of what he was saying, and strides over to Aelin. He arches an eyebrow in question.

Without words, Aelin beckons Rowan to follow her and spins around, heading back down the grand hallway that she came through. Rowan follows her with a smirk and a shrug. They walk in silence for a few minutes, wandering through corridor after corridor until they reach the back of the castle. Waiting for them in the back gardens are two magnificent Asterion mares, snorting, stomping, saddled and ready to go.

Rowan chuckles and eyes the mares appreciatively, but still says nothing. Aelin swings herself into the saddle of the closest mare and ties her pack in front of her in the saddle. She gives a simple wave of her hand towards the second horse and arches her brow at her husband. He takes the cue and hauls himself into the saddle. With a hidden grin, Aelin digs her heels into the sides of her horse and leans forward. The mare takes off, and Rowan quickly follows suit.

They take quiet side roads though the city, avoiding as many people as they can as they gallop. After less than an hour, they reach the edge of the city and enter the woods on the edge of the Staghorn mountains.

At some point along their journey, Rowan realized where Aelin was taking them–a small clearing at the foot of a waterfall. They had found the place during their first few months as King and Queen of Terrasen, when they were exploring and needed a place to get away from the bustle of the castle and relax, and had returned several times afterwards for romantic outings.

Their horses wander down the quiet grassy forest paths. It’s early afternoon, and the hot sun is filtering through the leaves of the trees around them, throwing shadows and patterns across the tree trunks and the ground in front of them.

Before long, they arrive at their secret hideaway. Mist flies softly overhead from the waterfall, cool and purified after flowing down the massive Staghorn mountains. They dismount and secure their horses, leaving them to graze. Aelin, smiling softly, takes Rowan’s hand and leads him to the edge of the waterfall. He waits until they both sit down and she starts to unpack the picnic food to speak.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are we just going to eat in silence?”

Aelin pauses in her unpacking, her hand holding a sandwich in mid-air. She sets it back in the basket and slowly meets Rowan’s gaze before letting out a breath. Holding eye contact with him, she reaches back into the picnic basket as if she’s reaching for a different sandwich. But that’s not what she pulls out. Instead, she lifts out a small bundle of cloth and sets it in Rowan’s lap.

“Okay…” Rown says, picking up the cloth. It unrolls in his hands, forming a small tunic. The kind of tunic that would fit a toddler. It’s green with gold embroidering along the sides. Rowan’s forehead furrows in confusion, but then his eyes widen. He looks from the mini tunic to Aelin and back again. “Are you...Aelin are you–” his voice cracks and he cuts off, blinking rapidly “Are you…” he trails off again, too overcome with emotion to finish the question.

Aelin nods and smiles tentatively. “Yes,” she murmurs, “I’m pregnant.” Her eyes are shining with tears, hope, and a little bit of fear. He stares at her in shock for a moment, but then smiles wider than Aelin has ever seen him smile, and gathers her to his chest. Aelin lets out a sob of relief, and they clutch each other, laughing and crying together. Rowan’s hands stroke her hair, and she buries her head in his shoulder.

“We’re going to be parents,” Rowan whispers in disbelief.

……………………………………….

By the time Aelin and Rowan return to the castle, the sun is low in the sky and the guests have arrived. They stroll into the great hall hand-in-hand, and are surprised to see Sam and Nehemia in a similar position, hand-in-hand by the large fireplace, chatting with Aedion and Lysandra. Both Sam and Nehemia are glowing, leaning into each other. No one has noticed the entrance of their King and Queen yet, so Rowan pulls Aelin to him and fondly kisses her on the cheek. They wander over to their friends and family with secret smiles on their faces and in no particular hurry.

After all, they have thousands of years ahead of them.