Firebringers in the Night : a ToG and ACoTaR Crossover (DISCONTINUED)

6. In Search of Lost Peace

Rowan

This was a bad idea.

As if it wasn't enough that his life was literally broken, and that every damn thing he saw reminded him of Aelin so much that even thinking was painful, he now had to deal with a group of adults wandering around like lost children. The more time that passed, the more he found himself focusing on why he agreed to an alliance in the first place: They seem resourceful, and you need help. But now, in hindsight, it was probably the worst decision he had ever made in his significantly long life.

They seemed to need his help more than he did theirs. The male was still pissed as hell about the crashing-in-his-face incident, his mate was trying very hard to keep it all together, and all of the others were watching their leader like a hawk. Rowan couldn't help but be surprised at how a male who seemed like he had a lot of power, actually 'allowed' his 'subjects' to behave like that. But again, they didn't seem like the general king-and-court group of people.

Even though he tried not to do it, so as to avoid any more excruciating pain, he couldn't help but compare these people to Aelin's cadre. It seemed like the blond female named Morrigan would get along extremely well with Lysandra, and the short-haired female, who looked like she was going to punch him in the face any moment now, would really get along with Manon. He bet that the silver-haired witch would love to have a who-can-brood-and-look-more-mean-while-being-a-real-softy-inside competition. It seemed as if the cadre meeting this group would more or less turn into a sparring contest.

Well, if they didn't manage to destroy everything by the end of whatever this was, he could actually have a chance at knowing who these people really are. There was no way he was going to buy their lost-group-who-don't-know-anything act. Even though he hated admitting this, they looked like they could actually have some well-functioning brains. How does someone like that royally screw up and end up at a place they barely know? Especially with practically every person who has a specific role in their little circle accompanying them. Something was wrong, but he wasn't going to waste his time saving and analyzing a group of complete strangers. I have to save Aelin - every damn time, the same thing flashed across his mind. It was like it was burnt into the back of his head. He didn't know what to do, he couldn't figure out where she could have been taken, and he just could not bear with the lost group anymore.

Rhysand

This was a terrible idea.

Neither of them knew the male or anything about him, especially if they could trust him or not. Besides, he had literally attacked him. And it's not like they could just sit and wait for him to help them get home.

Velaris is in midst of about a thousand repairs, and apart from that, disappearing when alliances are on brink of a cliff is not exactly the best idea. After the war and after all that his people have lost, Rhys cannot even imagine any reason barely good enough for not being there for them. He knew that Feyre didn't want him to blame himself, but there had to be something he could have done to prevent this, to protect the peaceful and blissful life that the city of starlight gives to its people. Peace. It almost seems like a foreign concept now. All the war, all the blood shed, all the people who sacrificed their lives, all the pain - how was it not his fault? Had he not told the human queens about this serene place, it would still be intact, the streets would still be ecstatic and alive, not mourning. Feyre would be taking art classes just because she wanted to, and children would be painting just for the sake of doing it, not because there was unbearable pain in their lives and the burden was too much. They are just children, and no one deserves to suffer so much that it becomes a necessity to just let go.

And it was not as if any of this helped him figure out how to return to the Night Court. It was just too much to process, too much to think about, very little time to do anything, and also keep up with the Fae warrior who still seemed skeptical of their story. Rhys had to do something to earn his trust.

"Are you here with a particular object in mind, or do you just go around forests flying in people's faces?" That did not sound good at all. And apparently, it was terrible beyond repair, because Mor was looking at him like he had just grown two heads.

"It's none of your business. But, as I mentioned earlier, you keep the stupidity to a minimum and help me, then I'll help you return to wherever the hell you came from", was all he got in reply. He was surprised, though. He didn't think he would get anything beyond an irritated look. Well, at least he now knew that the male was desperate and flustered enough to not keep up a mask. He had thought about being the High Lord of the Hewn City, but had decided to go along with just being himself (with the regular inner walls, of course) because he was just too mentally exhausted to have to keep up the persona. But, as it seemed, 'just Rhys' has trouble filtering his thoughts before they come flooding out his mouth.

"Fair enough. And my Inner Circle is supposed to be helping you with what, exactly?"

He saw frustration flash across the male's face as he seemed to realize that we couldn't actually help if we didn't know what we were supposed to be doing. Deciding that it actually was our business, he started with a story, and the way his expression softened, Rhys knew to tone down the usual amount of annoyance and mocking that seemed imbibed within him. And so, the Fae prince began.

"Once upon a time, in a kingdom long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom... very much."