How you doing, mis amores?

Love, A.

cant wait to ruin more of yalls dashboards😘 stay gay n feral babes -mae

links to henrys pov chapter:

part 1

part 2

@kitsune-kaos​

Remember, remember, the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot. I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot… But what of the man? I know his name was Guy Fawkes and I know, in 1605, he attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament. But who was he really? What was he like? We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught, he can be killed and forgotten, but 400 years later, an idea can still change the world. I’ve witnessed first hand the power of ideas, I’ve seen people kill in the name of them, and die defending them… but you cannot kiss an idea, cannot touch it, or hold it… ideas do not bleed, they do not feel pain, they do not love… And it is not an idea that I miss, it is a man… A man that made me remember the Fifth of November. A man that I will never forget.

Here it is! The final part. I hope you enjoy. :)

CW- Anxiety, Depression

Temporarily moving in with Aedion turned out to be the best choice Aelin had made in a while.

It wasn’t without challenges. Aedion was always hovering. Putting food in front of Aelin when she couldn’t stomach more. He made sure she went to sleep and woke up at regular hours. Even if he had to carry her from the bed and put her at the breakfast table himself.

Maybe it was the change of scenery, but Aelin started waking up frequently during the nights with no recollection of when or where she was.

She’d stumble around Aedion’s house deliriously searching for Rowan. Desperate for her familiar, safe harbor. Ambling around Aedions house, her confusion and distress only grew when she couldn’t find her husband. The anxiety would build up until Aelin was in the throes of a full-fledged panic attack. Similar to the one she’d had on the street the night of the blizzard.

Aedion somehow seemed to have a second sense for when Aelin got to that point. He would appear in his slippers and robe like a guardian at her side. She would melt into his arms, and he would slowly rock of borderline hysterical Aelin until she regained her bearings.

Remembering that Rowan was gone always hit her just as badly as it had the first time.

Aelin would ask Aedion if he’d seen Rowan. When her cousin looked at her with pained eyes, she would beg him to tell her. Clutch his robes. Shake him. Aelin would demand answers even as the broken pieces of her heart splintered again.

He didn’t need to say anything. The realization would always hit Aelin quick enough, sending her back into a depressed silence. So Aedion took her frantic pleas and thrashing limbs in stride. Sometimes he would join her in crying. Her cousin was good at concealing his emotions during the day, but his heart broke openly for her at night.

It would take well over an hour to calm her down again. Aedion never rushed Aelin or seemed bitter that she was taking away from the little sleep he got. When she settled down, her body would crash from the utter stress and exhaustion. He’d carry her like a child to her room and tuck her back into bed.  

Between Aelin and his infant son, the shadows under his eyes grew long and deep. He’d lean over the table in the mornings, head in his hands as he fought sleep. Lysandra wordlessly would poor him an extra thermos of coffee and rub the tension from his shoulders.

She felt so much guilt for burdening her cousin and his new family. They didn’t need another dependent under their roof when they’d just had a baby. Every time she brought up her concerns, a fire would light in their eyes.

“You are family, Aelin.” Lysandra had glared as she rocked a fussing Andre in her arms. “We don’t want you anywhere else but here.”

As much as Aelin worried, being with her family was helping. Her cheeks weren’t as sallow. She hadn’t realized how much weight she’d been losing as the hollow spaces of her body filled out once more. The shadows under her eyes were still there, but they were turning back into a light blue. Aedion’s soothing was allowing her to get more sleep than she’d been getting at the apartment.

Even Andre was helping. Assisting Lys with the care of her nephew gave Aelin something to do that wasn’t self-destructive. No creepy patrons were assaulting her or degrading bosses making life miserable. Just a tiny little boy with Ashryvver eyes who smiled when Aelin made a funny face and babbled happily in his bouncy chair.

The urge to write to Rowan ate at her. Aelin wanted to write paragraphs about Andre. Tell him about the Yulemas gifts they’d saved for her and the story Emrys had told her at Mistwards.

It was a slow death not talking to him. Still, she tried to refrain from picking up the pen. Writing the letters had become an obsession to shield her from reality. They kept an image of a living Rowan alive in her mind.

Aelin was slowly coming to terms with the truth.

Rowan. Her handsome, brave, kind husband is gone. Over a year had passed, and she knew that every waning day decreased the statistics that they would find him alive. Those odds had dipped below zero many months ago. She just hadn’t been ready to face that yet.

Two months came and went.

As the raging Terresan winter released the land from its clutches and the kingsflame began peeking from the ground- Aelin knew it was time.

She called Emrys and asked if there was room for her to work at Mistward. He’d responded enthusiastically and offered her a job on the spot.

Aedion had taken over the rent for her apartment. He claimed that she was under enough pressure and assured her that they were making enough money to cover the meager rent three times over. It was a generous gesture, but Aelin didn’t feel right taking money from her cousin anymore.

He and Lysandra didn’t take well to the news of her new job. They were wary of letting her go.

“Lin,” Aedion huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve been doing so good. Are you sure you are ready to go back?”

Aelin took a moment to really think over her answer. “I think so. I’m not a hundred percent, but I don’t think that will come for a long time.”

“If you want to move in on a more long-term basis, we’d be happy to have you.” Lysandra, her best friend, grabs her hand from across the table. “We love you. We love having you here. There is no rush to go.”

Aelin squeezes Lys’s hand. “I know. I love you too, but I’m ready to go home.”

She only had a single suitcase with her. It took no time to pack and load it into Aedion’s car. They drove home in comfortable silence, their collaborative playlist playing over the speakers.

It was a much more peaceful drive than the night Aedion brought her home. That car ride had been filled with emotion. Aelin was borderline hypothermic and numb from emotional torment. Her cousin couldn’t stop glancing at her, fear in his eyes. She’d begun to waste away and hadn’t even noticed.

Now, she was still mourning, but Aelin could see a future where she survived. Imagining a life without Rowan is still too hard for Aelin to linger on, so she lets Emrys’ words guide her. She decided to take it one step at a time. Aelin would learn to live again and make Rowan proud.

Aedion pulls her luggage from the trunk and hugs Aeling tightly. Planting a kiss on her forehead, he runs a calloused hand across her cheek. “Call me if you need me. I’ll be at your side in a heartbeat, cousin.”

“I love you too,” Aelin mumbles against his shoulder. “Take care of my nephew.”

“Of course,” Aedion gives her a final squeeze and departs. Aelin stands on the sidewalk and watches his car exit the parking lot and disappear from sight.

She takes a moment to prepare herself before going inside. The stacks of letters need dealing with. Some of Rowan’s things she knew should be boxed and put into storage.

It would hurt.

Aelin would have to force herself to let go, but it was for the best. She couldn’t let herself fall back in that pit of depression. No amount of her cousin’s nursing would bring her back a second time. It was now or never.

“You can do this,” Aelin whispers to herself as she sticks her key in the lock. Rowan wouldn’t want her to give up. So long as she reminded herself of that, she could survive.

The knob jiggles.

Aelin frowns. Pulling her keys from the door, she twists the handle, and it opens with no resistance. Had she left her front door unlocked?

Cautiously, Aelin steps inside and hears the lilting sound of Rowan’s vintage record player humming in the corner. The lights above her stove were lit, and her expensive candle was burning on the counter.

Shit.

Aelin creeps into her apartment. “Whoever is in here better get the hell out.”

“That’s no way to talk to your good friend.”

Aelin whirls around to find Fenrys sitting in her favorite armchair, his feet kicked up on the coffee table. “Honestly, I do you a favor, and you treat me like I’m a serial killer.”

His blond hair is freshly washed and braided tightly against his head except for a single strand hanging loosely beside his face. Fenrys has a cup of hot tea clutched in his hand, and one of her books propped open on his lap.

None of that bothered her. No, Aelin could care less if he broke into her house and used her stuff. What made her blood boil was the fact it was Rowan’s clothes he was wearing.

“Get the hell out.” Aelin throws her suitcase down and points at him. “Get out.”

“That’s not what you wanted last Yulemas,” Fenrys smiles as he slowly rises from the chair.

Aelin grabs the ornamental stag off her mantle and lobs it at his face.

“Woah! I’m just kidding,” Fenrys ducks and sets down his drink. “I have good news. You weren’t home, so I thought we’d hang out here until you came back.”

Tears burned Aelin’s eyes. “Get the hell out of his clothes. You have no right to touch his things.”

“Aelin,” his voice drops lower, and a genuinely worried expression crosses his face. “Listen-”

“Don’t tell me to listen.” A horrible sick feeling rises in her. She wasn’t ready. Aelin needed Aedion to come back. Needed Fenrys to take off Rowan’s things. She needed the fucking record player to stop playing their song.

She needed her husband.

“You break into my house. Take my dead husband’s clothes,” Aelin laughs lifelessly. “And you expect me to hear anything you have to say?”

“Aelin.” A warm hand grasps her shoulder.

The world stops.

She can feel the familiar callouses through the fabric of her shirt. Smell the scent of pine and fresh snow. Her name never sounded better than when it passed through his lips. Both syllables send a shudder through the faultlines of her soul.

Very slowly, Aelin turns around.

“Rowan?” She raises a hand to her beating heart. This couldn’t be real.

Rowan stands in the doorway of their bedroom. His green, knitted sweater no longer clings to the curvature of his arms. The sleeve hangs loosely around his thinned frame. His once beautiful hair is sheared nearly to the scalp, and bandages peek through the collar of his shirt.

The spark in his eyes is dimmed, but it grows exponentially as he soaks in the sight of his wife. His hand is still warm on her shoulder as it slides down her sleeve, and their fingers curl together.

Alive.

“I’m home,” Rowan’s voice cracks.

They are a collision of featherlight touches and starved kisses. Her husband’s lips are on her mouth, the corners of her lips, tracing the tear tracks down her cheeks. Aelin runs her hands from the back of his head, down his arms, up to his chest. She traces every new line and commits it to memory.

Whispered words pass between them. Aelin is sobbing, and Rowan looks at her as if she were water in a desert.

Aelin is pulled into his arms. Her head rests perfectly over his heart, and the thrumb of it beneath her cheek causes a new wave of tears to cascade down her face. For once, they aren’t from pain.

She’s so happy.

He rests his forehead against her hair. She can feel him inhaling her scent. Rowan’s hands tighten around her. “I’m home, Fireheart. I’m not leaving again. I’m right here.”

Fenrys disappeared somewhere, giving them privacy for their reunion. Her eyes glance around the room. Rowan’s slippers are on his feet. The fireplace is stoked. His things lay in various places around the apartment where she hadn’t left them.

“You didn’t call?” Aelin asks her husband. There’s a stab of angst through her overwhelming joy. Why hadn’t he told her he was home?

Rowan drags a hand through her hair. It’s grown out several inches from the last time he’d seen her. He’d always liked to play with her hair, even though he would deny it to his dying breath.

His hand stops on the back of her head, and a stressed sigh escapes his chest. “Initially, when I was recovered from the POW base, the field hospital I was located to was in a sensitive region, and communications were restricted.”

Prisoner. Aelin bites her lip and closes her eyes. She knew it was a possibility, but even in her darkest musings, she never let her mind wander down that road. There were a million questions on the tip of her tongue, but Aelin knew her Rowan. He needed her to listen. So she did.

“After that, I was sent to a medical facility in Wendlyn about four months ago. I could have called you then, but I wasn’t in good form. Physically or mentally. I felt like an entirely different person.”

Rowan was trembling. He sounded so pained, Aelin had to bite her tongue to keep herself from crying again. It was a futile effort. Rowan tilted her head up so he could look her in the eye, and there was nothing she could hide from him. “I missed you so much, baby. All I wanted in the whole damn world was to talk to you, but it would have killed me if you saw me like that. I wasn’t the man you knew, and I couldn’t bring myself to put you through that, so I called Fen.”

“He left to go get you,” Aelin said aloud as the pieces of his story came together in her mind.

Rowan sniffs heavily and rubs his eyes, “Yeah. He helped me get back to myself, back to a state of mind where I could trust myself to be around you. It was bad. I only came home last week, but you weren’t here.”

The dam broke. Aelin had never been much of a crier, but this last year had turned her into a walking rain cloud. “I’m so sorry. I should have been here when you got back. Shit.” Aelin rambled, “A lot happened, I just couldn’t-”

Rowan shushed her and wiped her face with his sleeve. “I know. You were with Aedion.”

Aelin blinks. “How did you know that?”

A real, genuine smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. His expression could only be described as adoration, even with the red eyes and blotchy face. “You left me a lot of reading material, love.”

“The letters,” Aelin is stunned for a moment. “You read them?”

“Every last one,” Rowan confirms with a weak chuckle. “They were addressed to me; I figured you wouldn’t mind. The last one conveniently told me where you went.”

Aelin looks away. Those letters were something so personal to her it felt strange that he’d actually read them. Even if he was the intended recipient. For some reason, she felt embarrassed. He’d been through literal hell, and he’d read through a monologue of her complaining about her life. It made her feel very small.

He cups the side of her face, “Don’t look away from me. Those letters-” Rowan cries in earnest, stuttering sobs rattle his chest. “There were moments where our life together seemed so far away. Like they were just happy dreams of a different life that didn’t belong to me. I was struggling with that feeling up until the moment I got home. It’s why I hadn’t called you yet.”

He presses a long, soft kiss to her lips that sends warmth down to her toes. “When I found the first letter? It was the first time I felt settled. I could hear your voice in every sentence, and they brought me back, Aelin. You brought me back.”  

Rowan clings to her. He murmurs gratitudes in her ear, and Aelin just holds him. Relishes the feeling of her best friend standing in front of her alive. She doesn’t know how long they stand locked in each other’s embrace. Only when their legs start to tremble and their crying subsides does Aelin nudge him through the doorway. Together, they collapse onto the bed and crawl up to the pillows. Rowan grabs his favorite blanket and pulls it around them.

His record player is still humming in the quiet, and light rain patters against the window of their room. For the first time in a year, that numbness that had threatened to claim her was nonexistent. Their home was filled with peace, and contentment saturated her down to the soul.

“Please, don’t ever leave me again,” Aelin whispers in the quiet.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rowan promises. “We have a whole life to spend together.”

Aelin looks at the desk across from her bed and notes the pile of opened envelopes. Over a year’s worth of letters filled with her daily ramblings and desperate pleas for her husband to return. Time served with pain and uncertainty.

Rowan wraps his arms around her as he drifts off to sleep as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear when he’s not looking. The road ahead of them isn’t smooth. It would take a long time for them to fully heal.

Aelin doesn’t care. She doesn’t know what she did to deserve this second chance, but she would be damned if she took a moment of it for granted. They could get through all of the obstacles to come so long as they were together. Rowan is the love of her life, and she would stay by his side. To whatever end.