#Queen Evaline Ashryver

[acourtofquestions]

TOG series up to EoS spoiler alert:

So, Maeve had no way of knowing when Aelin would appear, all she knew was her face (I think) maybe a name at most.

The interesting thing is she talks about trying to get Evalin to bring her as a child (but she wouldn’t have looked like Aelin yet as a child) so how would she even know?

My theory is like how Emrys said Aelin looks just like Evalin. While the Ashryver eyes probably helped Maeve follow the line, I think it’s why Evalin knew Maeve & ran so far, I think she experienced the similar prowling Aelin always felt; that Maeve was looking for something else, might have even mistaken Evalin as Aelin at first.

The other reason I find this idea interesting: there is one other character told they look just like someone else. Aelin’s paralell. Manon. And in a game with all the old players it’s very interesting that you have Manon and her near-twin/doppleganger Rhiannon Crochan. And the Aelin, Evaline, Elena line.

[justreadertings]

Bad Dreams

Ok this is just a quick thing that has been sitting in my drafts forever, and I finished it up now! I wanted to share it because despite how amazing New York was... I MISSED MY MOM!!! and I missed you guys! so here’s some writing lol. Also I love Canon Aelin, and Mom Aelin. Ok, enjoy!- Magee

Masterlist

Tw: mentions of torture, vibes of “slipping through my fingers” from Mama Mia

Aelin was not bored. Gods bless her, if she ever was. No, she was just… waiting. 

The castle was quiet, and she was perched atop her throne, drawing pictures in the wooden armrest. It was the first moment of peace she’d had all day. Being queen was a tiring, all consuming job. She closed her Ashryver eyes. Something would come along soon, demanding her attention. But for right now… this was nice. 

Her brief peace was ended with the careful opening of the throne room doors. Her eyes stayed closed as the door shut. She didn’t even want to know what was about to be asked of her.

“Mama?”

Her eyes opened. Being a mother was a tiring, all consuming job. But she adored it even more than being queen of her great nation. 

“Yes, Evalin dearest?” 

Her eldest, sixteen in age, stood proud in front of her. She was a picture of Aelin herself, with her features and cunning, but with the tan of her father- and the calculation of him, as well. Evalin was his perfect warrior. She was to make the fiercest defender of Terrasen the world had ever seen. Yet her sweetness had come completely from her namesake, her soft edges reminding Aelin and Rowan of the beauty of childhood without threat of war.

“I wanted to ask you something,” her daughter said, eyes earnest. 

Aelin eyed her child’s leathers, her messy braid and sweaty brow. “What did Uncle Fen tell you this time?” Aelin should have never allowed Fenrys to train her daughter in the art of defense. He was nothing but a gossip. 

Evalin smiled, fondly. “No, it wasn’t him.”

Aelin made grabby- hands toward her. “Don’t just stand there looking at me,” she joked. “Come here to me. Let me kiss on you.”

Evalin did come to her, but she batted her hands away. “Ugh, I’m all sweaty. Leave me alone.”

“You’re no fun,” Aelin pouted. She poked her daughter’s cheek as she perched on the arm of her chair. “Just like your papa.”

Evalin scowled like Rowan, too. Still, Aelin combed the top of her child’s head. She was grateful for the quiet of the room. It was so rare that she got time alone with just her eldest. Evalin was her world. All her children were. Aelin thanked every god who was still holy, who still had a say in this world, that she was around to create such wonders. They were her greatest accomplishment.

“I had a dream,” her daughter told her.

Aelin frowned at Evalin’s serious tone. “What about it worries you?”

“It was-” she began. “I tried to run it out. Tried to beat it out. But I just… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?” Aelin tried to clarify. She’d had to work on her patience greatly in parenthood.

Evalin bit at her fingernails. Aelin remembered what it was like being sixteen. Granted, her life experience and her daughter’s life experience differed wildly- thank the heavens- but still. She knew Evalin had to be nervous about something. 

“It was about you.”

Aelin shifted. She ran a soothing hand down Evalin’s back. “What about me?”

Evalin covered her eyes, as if she had a headache. “It was… you were locked up.”

Aelin’s blood froze. “I was locked up?”

Her child nodded. “You- I think something happened to you. You kept…” her throat bobbed. “You were screaming. For papa. For anyone. And just- screaming.”

Aelin’s eyes filled with tears. She wrapped her arms around Evalin, and brought her to sit on her lap as if she were still as wee as the youngest, Eire. 

Evalin stared at Aelin’s eyes. Her dusty hands reached out to her mother’s face. “Mama…”

Aelin wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to compose herself. “I just… I used to have dreams like that.”

“Like what?”

Aelin’s voice turned soft, and she thought about her daughter’s namesake. “Memories. Things I should not know, should not remember. And dreams of my mother.”

They were quiet for a moment, and Aelin could have sworn Evalin was five again, sneaking into her and Rowan’s bed for soothing. “Why did I have that dream, mama?” Evalin’s voice broke. 

Aelin swallowed, wishing Rowan were beside her. He was always better at these harder conversations. “You know about the war,” Aelin began.

“You saved the world,” Evalin said, nodding. 

Aelin’s heart warmed. “I suppose you could say that.” She traced her daughter’s beautiful face. “But it did not cost nothing. I made sacrifices. I-” she paused, reminding herself of all the beauty that had followed her out of the darkness. “I wanted to save Terrasen. Before anything else.”

Her daughter nodded, listening thoughtfully like her papa. 

“But I had to make a choice, once. To save Terrasen or myself.” Her eyes filled with tears. “And the world deserved better than what it had. I wanted that world, a better world, for my people. For your father, your aunts and uncles.”

It was not to hurt her feelings, but Evalin asked, “it meant you were sacrificing us, too.” Her daughter looked so much like her husband, then, both devastation and calculation in her Ashryver eyes. “You would not have… me, Eden, Elyntia, Elspeth, even Eire… we would not have existed.”

Aelin’s hands shook around her daughter. “And I thank everything powerful in this world that that future did not come to pass.”

Evalin tilted her face. Sadness graced her features. “You gave up so much.”

Warm tears pressed Aelin’s eyes. “Yes, baby. I did.”

Then, Evalin just scooted down further, settling in her mother’s lap. Aelin pressed her lips to her daughter’s head, regretting time for making her baby grow so fast. Still, she could rock gently, and her first born laughed against her chest as she sang the folk song that put Eire to sleep every night. It was the same song she’d sung to all of her beautiful, wonderful cabal of children.

“Can you stop growing?” Aelin whispered against her daughter’s hair.

Evalin squeezed her. “I’ll try, Mama.”

Thanks for reading! It IS gonna be pre-tech week and then tech week (I know, excuses excuses) but I’m gonna try to get both a chapter of Till Death Do Us Part out AND hopefully Coffee Shop Rules. We’ll see. Ok byeeeeeee

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[shallyne]

SJM NextGenWeek

Evalin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius

Evalin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, daughter of Queen Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius and the Queens consort Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius. She is a character that is not fleshed out yet but one thing is for sure, she is a trouble maker and stubborn to the core.

[longsightmyth]

Hello! I've been very confused about Aelin's family tree and who isn't and is related, like who the parents and siblings are. If it's not too much to ask, could you explain it to me?

Hi! If you mean Canon Celaena, she has no siblings. On her mother's side she has plenty of relations though, some of whom have their blood relationship spelled out in text (Mab is textually Celaena's great-grandmother) and some of whom do not (is Galan Celaena's first or second cousin?)

We know that Aedion's unnamed mother is Evalin Ashryver's first cousin, because Aedion has Mab's eyes and Evalin and his mother are stated to be cousins. Since Mab is Celaena's great-grandmother, the only blood relation Aedion could be is her second cousin via his mother, who has to be Evalin's first cousin. Whether Evalin and Glaston (Galan's father) are first cousins or siblings depends entirely on whether the previous monarch of Wendlyn was a woman or man: if it was a woman, they could be siblings because Celaena's inheritance of Faerie Queen of the West has to come to her unbroken through the female line. If it was a man, Evalin and Glaston have to be first cousins for the same reason.

Rowan is descended from Mab's sister Mora a ton of unspecified generations back.

On Celaena's father Rhoe's side, we have his uncle Orlon and Orlon's partner Weylan. There is a deceased sibling for Orlon in there somewhere, obviously.

Further we have a descent from Brannon Galathynius and Mala the fire goddess, who had Elena Galathynius and presumably other children, since Elena was never queen of Terrasen. She married Gavin Havilliard, who ruled Adarlan via a land grant from Brannon Galathynius, apparently not to his daughter but to his daughter's husband. Celaena and Dorian et al are related on that side of things, but also later on a havilliard had to marry back into the galathyniuses at some point in order for Elena to be Celaena's ancestor as stated by the text.

That probably didn't clear up a lot, but hopefully some. I know too much about throne of glass.

[house-of-galathynius]

Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy! 

Chapter One 

Prologue: The Night Before

The moon was high in the sky as Aelin made her way through the palace courtyard and towards the river that ran beyond. It was well past the time anyone would be out here. She was confident in her abilities at keeping hidden as she strolled down the path and stopped as she reached the waters edge. 

In the winter she wouldn’t even hesitate at crossing the river. Terrasen winters were harsh and bitterly cold. Parts of the river where it flowed slowly would freeze over from mid-December until February. But it was September, and that meant the water was running freely; so Aelin had no choice but to jump in and swim quickly across. If it wasn’t for her fire magic that was able to dry her off within seconds, she would hate that crossing more. 

She checked behind her, ensuring no one was following and quickly made off into the night. 

The walk from the palace into the city itself was not long if you were taking the normal route. For Aelin, she would have to go the long way round; traipsing through thick brush and woodland to reach the edge of the city. 

After too many scrapes and close encounters with the ground she saw the distant lights of the city. As she entered the city walls themselves she marvelled at the white stone buildings and the way they glowed in the moonlight, the streetlights flickering in the shadows. It was louder here, the taverns only just opening for the night. A group of Fae stumbled down the street, arm in arm, laughing at each other. 

Aelin knew she was privileged, to live in a palace, to have maids and cooks and cleaners. She was happy there, with her family. But sometimes, when she would sneak off to see Sam, she wished she could have a life like this; a life of freedom, to do what she wanted whenever she wanted. The stolen moments with Sam were ones she cherished. 

She approached the large store front, a dark wooden sign hanging above the door reading Little Library of Orynth. The real library of Orynth sat above the city, it’s walls protected with magic to ward off any unwanted attention. And whilst Aelin loved that library, she came to find the old librarians there to be too strict, too stuffy, to fully enjoy the books they held. 

She had found Sam’s library years ago; when it was not Sam’s library. Her father had taken her there to browse the collection of romance books which were not available elsewhere. Since then, she had come back more times than she could remember. 

Sam had always been there, in the shadows of the towering shelves and the dusty books. It hadn’t been until she was eighteen and Sam twenty that they had crossed paths properly. They had bonded over their mutual love for a series of books and had continued from there. It had been two years and every moment she had with Sam was precious.

She gave a few gentle taps on the oak door and waited. It was only a few seconds later when Sam was there, a smile on his face, dust covering his clothes and his hair messy. His classic look. 

“You really need a haircut.” She grinned at him and placed a kiss on his cheek. 

“And you really need to learn time management.” He kissed her right back and pulled her into the darkened library. 

“I was trying to get away sooner, but Aedion was complaining about his new training—“ she trailed off. “You don’t need to hear about Aedion’s boring life.” 

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer. She took in his scent, old books, leather and a faint hint of lavender, before bringing her lips to his own. 

She lost herself in the softness of his lips, the way he caressed her head as she leaned into him. Her hands found his hair and slid through the messy locks. 

Sam broke away first, his hand finding her own, and slipping his fingers through hers. “I have a treat for you.” 

“I hope it’s chocolate. Kasper has me on a diet.” Kasper was her trainer, and he had put her on a new diet, to try and curb her appetite for sweets. 

Sam laughed. “Kasper can try, but we both know you will not be stopped when it comes to chocolate.” He continued walking, up the stairs and into the apartment above the library. It was rare to find somewhere like this in the city. Most buildings would house two or three shops over several stories; people’s homes were found just outside of the city walls, tucked away amongst the foothills of the Staghorns. Sam had been lucky. The old man who had owned this place before him had converted the floors above into a large, airy apartment. The ceilings were high, dark oak beams jutted across the ceilings, the walls a light beige, and the floor an old herringbone design, worn with years of footsteps. There were little touches of Sam dotted around; a painting he had purchased on a trip to the Southern Continent, a large rug which Aelin had bought him for his birthday. Scattered amongst his things were her own. Books, shirts, a hairbrush which perched on the mantle. She could imagine living here with him, and sometimes it hit her that none of this was permanent, that her love with Sam would one day have to end. 

“It’s not much, but I found it when I was digging through some old trunks of books I found.” 

Aelin snapped away from her thoughts and looked towards Sam who was holding a badly wrapped book. She took it from his hands, turning it over, shaking it to check that it wasn’t, in fact, chocolate. 

“What’s the occasion?” She sat on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her. 

“Does there have to be an occasion for me to get the woman I love a gift?” She blushed at the words. It was still felt foreign to her, the concept of love, and the idea that she was in love with Sam and he with her. And every time he said he loved her, it would fill her with a warmth that she couldn’t describe. 

She hastily unwrapped the book and her breath caught in her throat. “Sam… this is—“ she opened the cover. “This is too much.” 

“I saw it and immediately thought of you. It’s from Eyllwe. I remembered you used to have a friend from there and you had always said—“ 

“I love it, Sam. Thank you.” She swept her fingers over the patterns and ridges of the leather, admiring the detail in the small book. The fact he had remembered Nehemia, that he had remembered what she had meant to Aelin… her heart swelled. 

She didn’t know what to say, so she showed him instead. Slowly peppering kisses along his jaw, lower. 

And lower.

He moaned at the feel of her. A sound that sparked something within. The lazy touches became faster as they both raced to take the others clothes off first; which were hastily thrown to the floor, neither caring where they landed. They were wrapped in each other’s embrace, their mouths moving together, Sam’s soft hands caressing her curves leaving warmth wherever he touched. Her breath was heavy as she let Sam pull her across the room, never straying too far from the other. 

They were moving towards the bed; groans mixed into the frantic kisses, their touches fevered and rough as they made up for the two weeks apart. But Sam was gentle as he laid her on the mattress, his eyes devouring her. She heated at his touch, as he showed her all the ways he had missed her. 

And when they lay there later, Sam’s head on her shoulder, his fingers trailing patterns along her skin, she didn’t think she could want anything more than she did right then. 

The two of them dozed on and off, until Aelin’s stomach growled. Sam huffed a laugh at the sound. But neither of them made to move, they stayed wrapped in each others arms for a while longer. Sam was the first to break the silence.

“Run away with me.” Aelin balked at the invitation. Turning her head to look at Sam. He was looking back at her. “I know it’s insane; but just listen…” 

He stood from the bed, rummaging to find some pants. Aelin watched his movements as he made around the room gathering up papers and books, before he laid them on the bed in front of her. “I’ve done my research. We could head to the Southern Continent and with the money I have saved and the inheritance from Terrance I can buy us a house with enough land for horses, enough room to raise children. It would be perfect, and the Southern Continent is beautiful, I know you would love it, Aelin.” Of course she would love it. And she was sure she would love the life that Sam was proposing, but in her soul she knew that it was a dream, one that would likely never be able to come true. She hated to ruin the bliss they had been in, hated the look on Sam’s face as he saw her hesitation. She shook her head once, clearing her mind, trying to think of the easiest way to say that his dream would always be a dream. But the words didn’t come. 

Sam spoke again, “I know it’s insane. And you would be giving up a lot, I know. But there are other people who can take the throne Aelin.” He took her hands in his, eyes wide with excitement. “People have given it up for less.” 

“What of my family, Sam?” Aelin stood then, grabbing the clothes that were strewn across the floor. “I love you Sam; you know that. But it’s one thing for me to be sneaking around with you here in Orynth, but to runaway from here completely?” She shook her head. “I could not do that to my family… to my kingdom.” Sam’s face fell, she saw the defeat in his features. “Is it not enough that we have each other right now?” 

“Of course it is. But then what happens when you have to marry, when you have to produce heirs for the throne?” This had been a conversation she had wanted to avoid at all costs. She would be expected to marry, and her family would certainly not let her marry Sam. There was also the other small problem of her immortality. “We pretend that everything is perfect, we have our stolen nights, and we ignore the dark cloud that has been over us since we began this thing.” 

“Can we not do this now? Please.” Aelin put on her shoes. “I have to go. Guests are arriving tomorrow and I need some sleep.”

“So we’re not going to talk about this?” He looked so hurt, so devastated at her leaving. 

“Not tonight.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” 

And then she was gone.

[acourtofcouture]

Evalin Ashryver Galathynius, Princess of Wendlyn and Terrasen, 4/?

[merakimax]

"Fireheart, why do you cry?"

"Because I am lost. And I do not know the way."

- 'Throne of Glass' Series, Sarah J. Maas

[ifitwereamovie]

Richard Madden as Rhoe Galathynius

Elizabeth Lail as Evalin Ashryver

Chad Connell as Cal Lochan

Janet Montgomery as Marion Lochan

(map ©️ 2015 Kelly de Groot)

[therandomfandomgal-insta]

Aelin’s mother is Demi fae. Her father is human.

How the heck does that make her fae??? With full powers and shifting and Settling? She’s 1/4 fae!!! That’s not how Punett squares work!!! I am very confused!!!

— please don’t repost on Instagram, Facebook, or any other social media (tumblr reposts allowed, though) —

[acourtofquestions]

There was nothing that could be done to fix her.

And she was ... she was ...

A whimpering noise came out of her, lips trembling so hard she had to clamp down to keep the sound inside.

But the sound was in her throat and her lungs and her mouth, and when she took a breath, it cracked out. Once she heard it, everything came spilling into the world, until her body ached with the force of it.

She vaguely felt the light shifting on the lake.

Vaguely felt the sighing wind, warm as it brushed against her damp cheeks. And heard, so soft it was as if she dreamed it, a woman's voice whispering, Why are you crying, Fireheart?

It had been ten years--ten long years since she had heard her mother's voice. But she heard it then over the force of her weeping, as clear as if she knelt beside her. Fireheart--why do you cry?

"Because I am lost," she whispered onto the earth. "And I do not know the way."

It was what she had never been able to tell Nehemia--that for ten years, she had been unsure how to find the way home, because there was no home left.

Storm winds and ice crackled against her skin before she registered Rowan sitting down beside her, legs out, palms braced behind him in the moss. She raised her head, but didn't bother to wipe her face as she stared across the glittering lake.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked.

"No." Swallowing a few times, she yanked a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose, her head clearing with each breath.

They sat in silence, no sound but the quiet lapping of the lake on the mossy bank and the wind in the leaves. Then-- "Good. Because we're going."

Bastard. She called him as much, and then asked, "Going where?" He smiled grimly. "I think l've started to figure you out, Aelin Galathynius."

[justreadertings]

what must be wrong with me for my mind to create a scene where Sam is peacefully sitting or reading in the afterlife, only to have Nehemia come running in, waving her hand frantically, he gets up and follows her to where she finds Rohe, Evalin, Marion, and Cal, for Nehemia to say "its bad" and for them all to find where Aelin is in the world saying "it was all borrowed time anyway but I still wished we had more of it"

for them to put all their energy into her fight, to push their love down to her

anyway... therapy has NOT been successful

[primenebulas]

Got my parents hand writing of Evalin's words to Aelin in chapter 12 of KOA tattooed on Sunday. 💕 😭🥰

[enchantedella]

Evalin & Aelin

Like mother, like daughter.

[a-court-of-fire-and-ash]

Throne of Glass Revelation

*Tower of Dawn Spoiler*

You know how Maeve is a Valg Queen? The reason she didn't want Aelin’s parents to get married was because she didn't want the healing from the Ashryver line and the fire from the Galathynius line to mix as fire has the ability to destroy the Valg and healing ability’s can “cure” someone inhabited by the Valg. 

[acourtofcouture]

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Princess of Terrasen, 5/?

[leiawritesstories]

The Assassin And The General

Word count: 2,469 

Warnings: it’s still pretty angsty. Language, some violence, mentions of more violence/blood/death/Arobynn, grief, and some other painful things. But also Aedion! Yay!

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aedion Ashryver wrapped his fur-lined cloak around himself and waited, eyes trained on the rolling hills that marked the border between Adarlan and Terrasen. He’d been oddly silent since moving himself and half the Bane out here, as if he were searching his mind for what he remembered of Terrasen’s only surviving direct heir to the throne. He was so young when the plague swept through Orynth, a boy of only eleven to Aelin’s nine years. They were practically siblings, raised together from the day Aedion arrived in his Fae father’s arms, barely a year old, and was welcomed into the Galathynius family. He and Aelin had been the terror of the castle together, her quick mind and his penchant for strategy combining to create a never-ending stream of pranks. 

And then the plague struck. 

Aedion and Aelin both had escaped illness, but Rhoe and Evalin had not. The children had stayed by their bedside near constantly, Aelin suddenly turning more serious than he’d ever seen her be, pleading with her parents to recover, to stay, to ascend to the throne like she knew they were destined to do. King Orlon had fallen ill as well, earlier. His illness was brief, so ravaging that there was little the healers and doctors could do beyond easing his pain. The king of Terrasen had died peacefully in his sleep, his pain numbed by a tonic from one of the healers. Everyone had thought that Rhoe would ascend to the throne after an appropriate mourning time, him being next in line, and then he and Evalin fell ill. Their illness...lingered. It broke Aedion’s heart to see little Aelin pleading with her parents, to see her parents reassuring her that they would be okay when everyone knew, after a certain time, that they would not recover. 

Only a few days before they passed, Rhoe and Evalin called Aelin into their rooms alone. She emerged crying, but carrying herself with the posture of a crown princess. That night, she’d told Aedion that she was going to be the queen. She’d cried, the pain of watching her parents leave this world and the fears of what becoming queen would involve crashing over her, and he’d just held her through her sobs. When she’d calmed down, Aedion knelt to face her, holding up his dagger, and sworn his eternal loyalty to her, slicing the blade across his palm to seal the vow. 

Eyes red, back straight, Aelin had accepted his blood oath, slicing the blade across her own palm to seal their bond in shared blood. 

Unconsciously, Aedion rubbed his thumb across the scar on his palm. Where the hell are you, Aelin?

~

Celaena had planned every step of her journey into Terrasen meticulously, from the supplies she needed to the cover story she’d spread. Arobynn needed to be convinced that she was following his orders, or...

She stopped the thought of what could happen if Arobynn wasn’t convinced before she could think it. 

As far as everyone in her unit knew, Captain Sardothien had heard rumors of a group approaching the Adarlan-Terrasen border, and she’d headed off to investigate. If she found anything, there’d be no trace by the time she returned. So far, that story was enough to keep Arobynn’s leash from tightening, so she stuck with it and prayed to whatever gods existed that it held. 

Pack strapped to her back, weapons tucked into every holster on her uniform and hidden in her boots, her sleeves, her thigh sheath, Celaena pulled her heavy winter gear on over her leathers, formally left Nox in charge during her absence, and headed out, soon vanishing into the hills that rippled across the Adarlan-Terrasen border. The landscape was quiet, almost serene, the greens and grays and browns blanketed with snow. Early spring had only just begun to spread across the Staghorn Mountains, pockets of green beginning to appear from beneath the winter’s coverings, and the air, though fresh, remained bitingly cold. She wore her Fae form, the immortal body allowing her to cover far more terrain in a shorter time than her human form, and as she ran through the hills, the landscape blurring past, she felt...joy. She felt free for the first time in years, free to run through the starkly beautiful mountains in her Fae body, free to run towards her cousin, towards her homeland, towards the promise of shattering Arobynn’s spell. 

Not quite two hours into her journey, she felt it. She’d crossed into Terrasen.  Unbidden, an ancient, depthless well of fire surged within her, the iron fist that had become her magic’s constant companion thrown aside. 

And Celaena burned with her flames, releasing the wildfire in a tiny, contained bubble of gold, allowing her fire to break free for the first time in years. Alive with the rush of controlling her power on her own, Celaena closed her eyes, speaking to the fire that lived within her. Tendrils of burning reds and oranges and golds snaked up her arms, caressing her skin, weaving into a circlet of living flame around her brow. 

Hood thrown back, the crown of fire burning brightly on her red-blonde head, Celaena Sardothien traced a finger down an old scar on her palm, reaching out for an old blood bond that would lead her to someone she hadn’t seen in ten years. Someone who could help her bring Arobynn’s unholy spell crashing down on his worthless, cruel head. 

Aedion Ashryver. Feared general of the Bane. Her bloodsworn cousin. 

The blood oath, dormant for so long, shifted, tugging her faintly to the east. So Celaena turned eastwards, crown of flames blazing, and headed off to bring Erilea’s tyrant to his death. 

~

She scented the small camp before she saw it, the unmistakable odor of a squadron of men carried to her immortal nose on a soft breeze. Wrinkling her nose, she strode forward, soon approaching the sentry standing at the edge of the camp. Poor little fellow took one look at her Fae body, at the burning gold ring in her eyes, at the crown of flames ringing her head, and sprinted into the camp, looking as if he’d piss himself at any minute. 

Celaena chuckled to herself, sauntering into the camp bold as brass. After all, she technically had the authority to enter any of Terrasen’s military camps as she pleased, her being the heir apparent. Aelin being the heir apparent. 

Booted footsteps crunched in the snow behind her, faltering as they drew near. She turned, meeting the emotion-choked gaze of a man with eyes twin to her own, a man who took one more hesitant stride forward and fell to his knees, tears pooling in his eyes. 

“Aelin,” Aedion breathed, her name settling over her like a familiar blanket. 

“Aedion,” she whispered, her voice threatening to break despite her best efforts. 

He crushed her against his chest in a heartbeat, his strong, familiar arms wrapping around her. She returned his embrace just as fiercely, careful not to let her wildfire crown singe him. His pulse thundered in her pointed ears, the joy and relief and a hundred other emotions of reuniting with her setting his blood afire. 

“I thought you...I thought...” He trailed off, unable to form the words. 

“I’m very much alive,” Celaena--Aelin--reassured him, grasping his hand in comfort. “I left Orynth to avoid being taken in by the advisors.”

He shuddered. “A wise decision. Here.” He held open a tent flap. “We can talk here.”

“No one would disturb the general in his private tent?” she smirked, raising an eyebrow. Fuck, she knew. 

“No indeed!” he smirked right back. 

She chuckled, the sound so achingly familiar yet so changed with age, and seated herself in one of the two chairs, letting her wildfire crown fade away. “So Aeds, what do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Specify,” she deadpanned, folding her hands. 

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Tell me--tell me where you went, all those years ago, and then we can talk about the spell.”

So she told him how she traveled to Rifthold, how she ended up in the Assassins’ Keep, how she was trained--all of her training, the beatings and the missions and the agony she endured at Arobynn’s hands--how she went to the Academy on her own time and money to learn about her wildfire, how she was so, so beyond lucky that she’d learned to lock the power away and display only an ordinary fire gift. 

“If he knew, if anyone knew, I’d be dead.” Simple, cold fact. 

And she told him of her spying on Arobynn and his inner circle, how she’d figured out their plans before they acted, how she was helpless to resist once the spell slammed into place, leaving Arobynn master of all the magic-wielders within the spell’s confines. 

“So where are the borders?” Aedion asked, peering at the notes she spread across his desk. 

“Here.” Aelin traced the lines she’d inked, the outlines of the massive region which Arobynn controlled, the area where his unholy spell was active. “It stops at the Wastes, at the sea, at the edge of Eyllwe, and here at the Terrasen border.”

“Why Terrasen?” It was a logical question. “Why doesn’t it extend into Terrasen?”

“No pillars,” Aelin replied, tapping the marks she’d made at the corners of the spell. “He cast the spell so its pillars were the ancient temples, and--”

“And there aren’t any ancient temple ruins in Terrasen,” Aedion finished, his general’s mind catching on.

“Exactly.”

“So you’re planning to take out the temples?” 

“One by one.” Fire sparked in Aelin’s eyes. “Or all at once, if we had the numbers to do it. But no, it’ll have to be one by one. Or at least...” She trailed off, speculative. 

“At least one of the northern ones before striking at the one in Rifthold?” Aedion asked.

Her eyes jerked to his. “How--”

“Take out the center, and the borders will fail.”

Aelin’s eyes welled up, hearing her father’s gentle wisdom in her cousin’s voice. “Yeah.” She sniffled. “Gods, I forgot you studied with...with Father.”

“Taught me near everything I know,” Aedion murmured. “Right. So what’s your grand plan, Ae? You can’t possibly be planning to burn the place down.”

“I can’t burn the place down, you idiot,” she snorted, her old snark reappearing, “not when I’m back under that shithead’s control.” 

“That asshole prick,” Aedion grumbled, ire flaring in his eyes. 

“So, naturally, we’ll just have to plant charges and stage an accidental fire that just so happens to spark one of those charges.”

“Accidental?” Aedion raised both his brows. “Little cousin, nothing you do is ever accidental.”

“Shut up,” she shot back, “it’ll look like an accident. And by the time he finds out, the spell’s borders will already have shrunk, so he can’t do shit about it.”

Aedion whistled softly. “Brilliant.” 

“Don’t flatter, Aed. I’m not some general you’re trying to woo into your bed.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, a blush flaring up. 

Aelin just chuckled. “Lighten up, Aed. You know I won’t betray any of your... activities to anyone.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Shit, I just wish the rest of my men weren’t so godsdamn terrified of approaching my tent, though.”

“Afraid their poor eyes will fall upon something they don’t want to see?” Aelin teased. 

“And of what’d happen next,” he grumbled. 

“Fair enough,” she snorted. “So, General Ashryver. Are you willing to potentially sacrifice yourself and your men on a crazy suicide mission led by your slightly unhinged assassin princess?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he swore, dropping to one knee. “Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, heir to Terrasen, I pledge to you my sword.” He drew a blade from its sheath along his spine, and she sucked in a gasp. The Sword of Orynth laid in her cousin’s hands, its ancient, scarred bone handle balanced atop his open palm. 

“May your blade never falter,” she intoned, voice steady despite the emotion clogging her throat at seeing her kingdom’s famed sword. Aedion sheathed his sword and stood, clasping her hand. 

“Will you send word?”

“As soon as we’re ready,” she promised. “Look for the messenger bird to arrive.” 

He nodded, so much shining unspoken in his eyes. Instinctively, he embraced her once more, clinging to his cousin, his queen, lost for so long but returned crowned in flames, ready to face and conquer the darkness spread across the continent. 

“To whatever end, Aed,” she promised, the Galathynius family motto coming so easily to her lips. 

“To whatever end,” he swore, the blood bond between them thrumming. 

As Aelin exited the camp, she passed through the rest of the Bane, gathered speechless at the sight of their queen. So she ignited her crown of flames once more, walking through her soldiers with a straight back, head high, the promise of a new dawn burning in the flames wreathing her head. She heard their reverent whispers, the soft chants that escalated into full-blown war cries, the Bane promising their swords, their strength, to their queen. Heart overflowing, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius left the Bane’s small camp and headed back towards Endovier, back to her legion and her duties and the temple in the city. To the promise of blasting through one of the spell’s pillars. 

To freedom. 

~

Aedion watched Aelin disappear into the hills, watched that crown of blazing flames grow smaller and smaller until it vanished into the snowy terrain. Then he turned back to his men, giving them orders to remain just where they were. He sent a small squad back to the main camp, ordering the rest of the Bane to move out and establish camp a few miles away from this one, so the whole legion was close to the border, waiting for Aelin’s signal. 

The screech of a hawk ripped through the sky, drawing his attention away from giving out orders. A white-tailed hawk swooped overhead, diving down to perch atop one of the tents. Aedion narrowed his eyes at the bird, the enhanced senses he’d received from his Fae father prickling. His nostrils widened, sniffing at the breeze, catching a tang of pine and snow and winter stronger than could be considered ordinary for early spring, even in the Staghorns. 

Before he could make another move, another guess, the hawk hopped off the tent pole, fluttering down to the ground. There was a flash of light, and then Aedion was looking into the slightly bemused green eyes of a pure Fae male taller and broader than him. His eyes narrowed, then widened in sudden recognition, the male’s silvery hair and the tattoo winding down the side of his face and disappearing into his fur-lined clothes distinctive, marking him...

“Prince Rowan Whitethorn,” Aedion greeted the male, bowing from his waist. “What brings you to the Bane’s camp?”

~~~

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