#ouae

Chapter 107: Bonus a Day with Jean

Yes, her cavalry captain always seemed to know what to do to help his Acting Grand Master. Even at the risk of his own expense. So, when that familiar shade of scarlet wearily strolled through her door late one night with a bundle in his arms and an exhausted “It’s Kaeya” left his mouth, panic laced through her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here? Work with me?” Arobynn was begging, his hands brushing her cheekbones as if he had the right to touch her that way. Celaena tilted her head slightly, looking over the unfortunately handsome face of the man that had pulled her from the river and taken her in. 

It was all she remembered, waking up freezing on the bank. At that point she was half dead and half frozen, on her way to becoming a human popsicle. But Arobynn Hamel had pulled her from the water and carried her to his Keep, tucked her into bed before a roaring fire and nursed her back to health. 

It was the nicest thing he’d ever done for her, because shortly after she got well, the emotional and mental abuse began. It turned sexual when she turned seventeen, and now that she was eighteen she couldn’t wait to escape his grimy, filthy hands. 

“You know I’ve always wanted answers. I’m going to find them,” she said firmly, nodding once before she stepped away. Her eyes shifted to Lysandra briefly, who nodded, and Celaena took a single step backwards before waving and disappearing down the front steps and away from her old life that she’d hated with such fervor. Now, she was headed toward her new life. Where she might find out who she was, or she might be able to be someone else entirely. 

~*~

The snow crunched beneath her boots as she tugged her hood up over her head and stuffed her hands into the pockets of the cape she wore. In true Celaena fashion, she was in all black with her golden hair plaited down her back. Her face was mostly hidden in shadows as she stalked down the sidewalks of downtown Rifthold, doing her best to avoid looking or talking to anyone.

Until she saw the puppy, chained to a fence and looking absolutely miserable. She looked starved and neglected — and something rugged so hard on Celaena’s heart that before she realized what she was doing, she as the puppy unchained and shoved inside her jacket. 

She walked like that for awhile, heading for the train station with the puppy tucked beneath her coat. Every so often it’s blonde nose popped out to nudge her chin, to lick her neck and mouth. As much as she tried not to, she couldn’t help but smile. The puppy was Godsdamn adorable, and if her paws were any indication, she would be huge. 

“If I keep you,” she whispered to the hound, “can I call you Fleetfoot?” Almost in response, she got another lick up her jaw and one straight into her nose. Celaena laughed, scratching the pup behind the ears as she approached the ticket booth. A bitter and grumpy looking man sat behind the glass and stared her down furiously like he would rather be anywhere but giving her a train ticket right now. “One for Orynth, please.”

“Identification,” he barked, and Celaena chewed on her lip. 

“I’m — I —“

“No identification, no ticket. NEXT!” Celaena nearly stomped her foot in irritation as someone pushed past her to buy their own ticket. Sullen and frustrated, Celeena walked around to the side of the ticket booth and stared at the dog in her arms, hoping that maybe she would find some answers in her big brown eyes. There had to be some way to get out of Adarlan and into Orynth without proper exit verification. The man hadn’t even let her explain, and she had half the mind to go back there and tell him that he didn’t have identification because she was an orphan, because she couldn’t remember anything before Arobynn Hamel found her freezing and half dead in a river. That she didn’t have ID because Celaena wasn’t her real name, merely a placeholder until she discovered what her real name was, and Arobynn had never cared to have her any fakes made because he’d been deadset on her staying with him until they both died. 

She had just started to give up, to try to find a job here somewhere instead of doing the awful things Arobynn would have her do — when a frumpy old woman approached, pointing down a weather worn path between some trees. 

“Go find Whitethorn. Rowan Whitethorn. He can help you with the identification,” the crone croaked, her voice a raspy and choked sound. It sounded… shady to say the least. But everything she had been up to for the last ten years was arguably shadier, so she stood, letting Fleetfoot down, and began to walk the broken down path. 

The path was so dilapidated that if she hadn’t been shown where it was, she may have missed it entirely. The trees hung low, often times causing her to duck beneath them or push them out of the way. Grass appeared between the cracks in the concrete. The concrete itself was buckled and broken almost everywhere, and if she wasn’t careful it was likely that she would trip and sprain an ankle or worse. In other places, it may as well have just been gravel. It was wide enough to have been a driveway, and when she broke through the clearing of the trees she understood why. 

A manor house, massive in comparison to the one she’d just left behind, towered over an overgrown lawn. It was immediately evident that nobody lived here. Vines overtook the outside of the home, snaking through broken windows and over the large doors so thickly that Celaena wondered if she would even be able to get inside. What would have likely been a perfectly manicured lawn had trees and bushes reaching for the sky, garden’s of dead flowers and waterless fountains with cherubs with broken hands. In its glory days, it would have been beautiful. Now, it was downright creepy. 

She forced herself to step forward, finding that the vines had been cut at the front doors and she slipped soundlessly through the cracks. The inside was only worse than the outside. Bits of the floor were missing entirely, so much so that she was nervous to step on them lest she fall down into whatever lay below, but the front stairs remained intact with their green carpets covering dark wood. The floor to ceiling curtains were moth eaten, some holes she could peer through into the courtyard below perfectly fine. Above, the once ornate ceiling was chipped and falling apart, bits of gold laying around her on the floor. 

“Hello?” She called, walking through the foyer. Deciding to go up the stairs, she carefully made her way up, up, up, until she reached the second floor landing where she listened carefully for any sign of this Rowan Whitethorn she had been instructed to find. It paid off, because down the hall she picked up on the rustling of papers and followed the noise until she reached the source. 

Peeking inside before announcing herself, she noticed a silver-haired man, likely not much older than she was, leaned over the desk in the center of the room. This room, unlike the rest of the mansion, had been tidied up. It was still completely falling apart, but it seemed like this room was visited often enough to warrant it being cleaner than the rest of the house. 

“Excuse me?” The man started where he sat, jumping to his feet and grabbing for a knife on the table. Celaena’s heart was pounding in her chest because of whatever it was he thought he was going to do with the knife. Arobynn had taught her plenty of self defense over the years, but against this man? She would be hopeless. His body was wrapped and hugged by pounds and pounds of muscle. Celaena was worried that even trying to run at this point would end with that pretty knife straight in her back.

“What do you want?” His accent she realized, was from Wendlyn and unfortunately lovely. 

“I’m looking for Rowan Whitethorn,” she said, eyes shifting over his eyes, his face. The tattoo that curved over the left side of his jaw and disappeared into his shirt. Celeana swallowed, hard. 

“Well,” the man drawled, sitting back down in his chair after presumably deciding she wasn’t a threat. “You found me.”  But the way he cocked his head to the side and appraised her made her think that maybe he had found her.

Chapter 94: The Stars Alighted Her

“Kae, it’s me,” his brother said, as though the blunette wouldn’t know. "It’s Diluc. I’ve come to take you home."

The Yulemas party at the castle in Orynth was by far the biggest and best party in all of Erilea. Hundreds of people filled the elaborately decorated ballroom, all laughing and twirling to the music that the orchestra played. There were at least thirty Fraser Fir trees throughout the space, and that was only in the grand ballroom. There were hundreds throughout the castle, something that the royal family and the employees of the estate loved the most about the time of year. Ornaments and tinsels in Terrasen’s silver were wrapped around the trees with ornaments of all colors dangling from the branches. Holly and mistletoe, ribbons and bows were adorning the walls along with long shimmering panels of fabric. Massive ice sculptures sat around the room, carved into a massive stag and landscapes of mountains.  Tables upon tables lined the walls, and were stacked full of any food that you could possibly dream of having, while a particular set of small hands were helping themselves to their second slice of chocolate hazelnut cake.

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, heir to the throne of Terrasen, swiped a fingertip’s worth of icing from the top of her slice of cake. She was giggling as she weaved in and out of the crowd, curls bouncing and the emerald skirts of her dress swishing about her ankles as she ran. The boy that trailed her was considerably larger and the other side to her golden coin,  calling her name with a laugh in his tone. Aedion Ashryver was hot on her trail, almost getting his fingers around the tail of her bow when she twisted and disappeared from view entirely.

“Mommy, look what I have!” She exclaimed, working her way into her mother's lap. Aelin looked up at the eyes that so perfectly mirrored her own.

“Are we ever going to get you to bed? At this rate you’ll have eaten so much cake, your father will have to roll you down the halls!” Fingers tickled at her stomach and sides, and Aelin let out such a joyous laugh that it had her father turning to join his wife and their only child. His smile was so bright that his eyes wrinkled at the corners as he dropped kisses to his daughter’s head, then a soft one to his wife’s mouth.

“Prince Rowan,” Rhoe Galathynius called to one of his guards, a young Prince of Doranelle, who immediately approached the Crown Prince of Terrasen. Aelin looked up at him from where she sat on her mother’s lap, unable to tear her eyes away from the bright green of his eyes. He was fifteen and training with the guard of Terrasen’s royal family, as well as assisting in Aelin’s magic training because he had wind and ice magic of his own. Rowan’s gaze shifted to the princess and he gave her a broad smile meant solely for her, one that she returned with just as much enthusiasm. If eight year old Aelin were to tell you a secret, it would be that she had a crush on Aedion’s best friend Rowan, and she loved it when he paid her any kind of attention.  “Would you find Aedion and ask him to-“

An Arrow struck King Orlon straight through his heart where he sat at the center of the long table. Bright red blood bloomed across his chest, and screaming arose throughout the ballroom as flame erupted seeimingly from nowhere. It sent a shock through Aelin’s heart as she had the panic that her fire had come out of control - but it wasn’t fire of her own doing. It wasn’t her fire at all.

A deafening scream shook Aelin to her core as she whipped her head toward her mother, for her father was crumpling to his knees where he had been taking a step toward Rowan seconds prior. Blood was pouring from his neck, littering the ivory suit he wore with crimson.

“Your highness, we must-“ Rowan started to speak to Aelin’s mother but was cut off by a blow to his shoulder that had him staggering back.  Rowan cursed as he yanked the arrow out, reaching for Evalin  by the upper arm and drug her and Aelin back toward the corridor. They were trailed by a few guards, but they were soon knocked to their knees, blood spreading over their backs as they faceplanted onto the marble. The burning castle smelled like ash and burning hair, the sight of a flaming man running into one of the trees the last thing Aelin could make out as the ballroom disappeared from view.

The screams were unbearable, the roar of the fire so hot that Aelin thought it to be burning her skin. Evalin’s fingernails were digging into Aelin’s arm where she held her so tightly but Aelin couldn’t complain as she ran with her mother, only to be swept up by Rowan’s arms. Her mother dropped a necklace around her neck and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Get her out, Rowan, get her out, I have to find-“ her words were lost as an arrow shot through her heart, followed by a knife making its mark in her neck. Aelin was screaming,  completely unaware when she started. Maybe all the screaming she had heard this whole time had been her own.

“I’ve got you, Aelin,” Rowan whispered into her hair, taking off down the corridor as two massive Fae men trailed behind them. Rowan threw arrows and knives of ice at their assailants, his speed only increasing as he ran. Faster and faster they went until he opened a door and shoved Aelin through it. “Run, Aelin. I’m right behind-“ his words were cut off by the door being slammed shut, the sound of bodies thwacking against the wood too loud. So she did as she was told. She ran.

The snow only made it harder as she sprinted, trying to summon enough of her fire to make a path and failing miserably. It was either too large a flame and she would get found, or too small to do anything significant and she wasn’t able to aim it well enough. She had never been able to control her fire, it was as wild and free as she was.

So she ran, struggling through the heaps and mountains of snow as she ran, and ran, and didn’t stop until she reached a bridge that covered the Avery River. She paused for half a second, her fingers closing around the necklace her mother had dropped around her neck. With a final glance back at the flaming castle; she took off across the bridge.

There was a loud crack, pain up her shins, and then she was free falling through the air until she splashed into the half frozen river. Her small arms and legs kicked against the current but she found it to be too debilitating, the movements of her arms slowing as she was finally swept under.

Nobody heard the Crown Princess scream, for it was drowned out by icy water that dragged her down into its unloving embrace.