This is another take on when Rowan got shot with the arrow, because I want to know what Aelin was thinking when she goes "They tried to shoot my. . . Rowan through the heart."
Chaol pressed his hands to the Fae's shoulder as hard as he could, guilt washing over him. The Prince could barely keep his eyes open, but he struggled towards Aelin, as she hurtled across the bridge, dragging the witch with her. Aedion bellowed at Aelin to run, and shifted his gaze to Rowan, who fought to sit up. "Keep down, you ass. If I let you die she'll kill me." Chaol looked away from the warm blood seeping through his fingers and looked towards Aelin, a few more steps- The Queen practically threw down the witch, and sprinted towards them, bloodied and beaten. Rowan lunged for her, but Aedion pushed him back down with a growl. Chaol looked towards Nesryn, who's lips were set in a grim line. Aelin skidded to a halt next to Rowan, dust flying. "Oh gods, Rowan-" Aelin's shoulders began to shake, and Chaol felt a jolt of pain as tears began trickling their way down her beaten face. The Fae blindly reached for her and she grabbed his hand. "Fireheart," Rowan murmured. Aelin looked at him, and rage, pure rage poured off of her. "What in Hellas realm were you thinking." She hissed. "Aelin, we need to go," Aedion whispered, grabbing her shaking shoulders. She snarled dangerously, but nodded. Aedion pushed past her, and looked to Nesryn, "Nesryn can you get the arrow out?" She nodded, and moved to Rowan, who was looking at Aelin as if he might never see her again. "Aelin, I'm going to find some bloodmoss, it will stanch the bleeding." Aedion's voice was calm, but Chaol knew it was only for Aelin's sake. Aelin merely nodded blankly, and retreated to where Lysandra stood, feet away from the wounded Fae.
Aelin stood by Lysandra, and forced herself to breathe. To think. The entire world was crushing in on her, suffocating her. Her eyes flicked to Chaol and a white hot rage shot through her. If he hadn't been so gods damned stupid, Rowan wouldn't have been shot, and they could have been halfway back to Rifthold, safe. But even that was burned away when Rowan gave a groan of agony as Nesryn removed the arrow. More of his blood pulsed out and she almost collapsed. Aelin knelt next to him, placed a careful hand on his other shoulder. "Rowan. I swear to all the gods-" Her voice broke roughly and he looked up at her, his green eyes hazy. She brushed back his hair, and continued on. "You have to stay awake, because we need you, and who else am I going to have to annoy the hell out of." Rowan laughed quietly, grabbing her bloody hand. She squeezed his hand tightly and looked around for Aedion. She knew--in her very soul-- that if Aedion didn't find that damned moss, Rowan would not make it. Across from her, Chaol pressed a large hand against Rowan's wound, and she almost screamed as she saw the blood seep from between his fingers. She jostled Rowan a bit, and his eyes snapped open.
Damn it, stay awake you Fae bastard.
His eyes seemed to whisper.
I will. I am. Don't worry, Aelin.
She snarled at his words. If he hadn't been so pale, so gods damned weak-looking, she would have slapped him.
I am your queen, and your carranam. You will let me worry.
Rowan managed a small smile, and she almost didn't hear Aedion bark at her to move so he could apply the moss. Then they were heaving Rowan up, and hauling ass out of the clearing.
Lysandra watched as they half carried, half dragged the Fae warrior through the Oakwald, repeatedly offering her assistance. The damned fools ignored her, and pressed on. Gods. As she looked at Aelin, her breath had left her body. The pain and fear and unadulterated fury that flickered across her drawn face made her step closer to the queen as they walked on, the only comfort she could offer. Distantly, the sound of Chaol quietly asking Nesryn to take over for him reached her, and she paused by her friend. As Chaol mutely switched with Nesryn, Lysandra watched as Aelin paled and swallowed, looking sick. "He needs to rest," she said gently, and watched as Aelin's fingers twitched towards Rowan. "We can't just camp out in the middle of the woods," Aelin's voice was hoarse, "He needs a healer." The captain looked towards Aelin, his eyes flickering, "I know where we can take him."
After an agonizingly slow walk, they finally arrived at a small stone country house; the Faliq's home. Then the sound of barking met Aedion's ears and he braced himself, but as soon as he saw the tentative joy on Aelin's face as the large golden hound raced forward, he eased slightly. Aedion had never seen his queen like this, and when she had screamed as that arrow had pierced Rowan's shoulder. . . Aedion paused as the door opened and a tall woman appeared in the golden light emanating from within the house. Her mouth tightened, and he saw Aelin reach for her sword, but- "Whoever put that bloodmoss on the wound saved his life. Get him inside- we need to clean it before anything can be done."
Aelin Galathynius sat beside Rowan in the spare room of the house, snarling if the midwife, Marta, even looked at Rowan funny. She flinched as Marta pulled a needle and thread through Rowans skin. The wound barely needed stitches, but the women had said she didn't want to risk it opening and exposing it to infection. Gods, she never in all of her life would've though she'd see Rowan like this; weak, and hurt. It killed her to see him like this, and again she was reminded how fragile life was. How fragile love was. "Done," the woman announced and faced Aelin. "You have two choices: you can either go wash up in the spigot, or you can sit with the pigs all night. You're dirty enough that one touch could infect his wounds." No, Aelin wanted to say, but she glanced at Aedion, a silent question. He nodded, he'd watch over him. She rose fluidly, resisted the urge to run her fingers over Rowan's uninjured arm, and stalked out.
The night was clear and beautiful as Aelin stepped out of the elegant home, and into the darkness that beckoned. The spigot was several paces from the house, and as she knelt before it, her arm twanged with pain. When she got back in the house she would ask for bandages. A witch. She had almost killed yet another witch. Aelin shook her head at the insanity of her life and yanked on the spigots lever, the sound echoing in the night. Taking her time, she washed of her arms, neck, face, hair, and hands. Then foot steps met her ears, and she cast a glance towards the house, Chaol clambered quietly towards her.
She didn't look up as he whispered, "I'm sorry." He cocked his head to look at her, but she kept her eyes on the lever of the spigot. Aelin didn't feel like talking, like moving. "I just wanted to end it for him. You were right-" She resisted the urge to snort, " All this time, you were right. But I wanted to do it myself. I didn't know I would . . . I'm sorry." She dared a glance at him, and stood, brushing away water.
"I saved my enemy's life today, " she said, because that was all she could think of, save for the image of Rowan's blood spraying on the temple stones. "They tried to shoot my. . ." Aelin paused. Paused, because she didn't know what to say. Her friend, her blood-sworn, her carranam, her lover, her . . Mate.
Mate. She felt icy disbelief shoot through her, but she continued, calming herself enough to keep going, not really wanting to face it, "Rowan through the heart. And I saved her anyway." Chaol's eyes shifted, "I know. I'm sorry." She gazed at the Stag of the North, and asked flatly, "Would you truly have killed him, if you'd had the chance."
Gods, killing Dorian. . She shut out another nightmare, and looked at him, waiting. "Yes. I was ready for it," he breathed. "We'll do it- together. We'll free magic, then you and I will go in there and end it." A look of confusion passed over his face, and he asked quietly, "You're not going to insist I stay back?"
Her eyes burned, and she swallowed hard. "How can I deny you that last gift to him?" "Aelin-"
Aelin slumped and turned away slightly, offering one last truth, "I don't blame you. If it had been Rowan with that collar around his neck, I would have done the same thing." She walked back to the house, and left him standing there in the dark.
When Aelin finally stepped into the room, Aedion pushed of the wall he had been leaning on, and stalked forwards, "What did the Captain have to say?" She closed her eyes, and ran a hand through her hair. Still damp and matted with dust, blood, and gods knows what else. "He was apologizing for . . This." Aelin gestured to Rowan, who lay unmoving on the cot. Aedion nodded solemnly, "Do you want me to ask Marta for another cot, or-" Aelin shook her head, and even though tiredness coursed through her veins, she said, "No, I'm not sleeping." Aedion opened his mouth to protest, but she raised a hand, "Please, not tonight." Her cousin merely nodded and left the room silently.
Carefully, Aelin dragged a slightly more comfortable chair from the other side of the room, and positioned it next to Rowan. His bare chest was pale, and the wound on his shoulder an angry red. She grabbed his speckled cloak from off the floor, and inspected it. Blood had soaked most of the top of it, and a hole had been torn through the shoulder, Aelin hissed and tossed it to the floor. She leaned back slightly, and heard Fleetfoot shuffle forwards, sniffing delicately at Rowan. "Maybe when this is all over, you two can meet properly," she scratched the dogs ear, and looked towards Rowan. "He takes up a lot of the bed, but we can shove him off." The dog panted happily, and curled up beneath her. Aelin shifted her gaze back to the Fae laying prostrate on the cot beside of her. Gently, she took his hand, and brought it up to her face, the rough calluses comforting. "I'm sorry, Rowan." Her voice broke as she whispered his name, and she brushed away the tears lining her eyes. "I know it's not really my fault, but still, I'm sorry." A shuddering breath escaped her, and she pressed her brow to his. "I'm sorry, I had to use the blood-oath, I'm sorry you got . ." A sob wrenched its way from her throat, and she squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry."
Rage pounded through Aedion's mind as he heard Aelin whisper those words to the Fae prince. I'm sorry. As if it were her fault, and not the idiotic Captain's. He turned away from the room, and up the small staircase that led upstairs. Chaol and Nesryn stood next to Lysandra, speaking quietly. Aedion hadn't heard the words the man had exchanged with his queen earlier, but that didn't matter. Not now.
Chaol didn't need to hear the General speak to know that he was pissed, and as he approached, Chaol braced himself. "She thinks it's her fault," Aedion seethed. "Excuse me, " he asked quietly. "Don't give me that. Aelin thinks it's her fault her blood-sworn, her carranam almost died." Chaol didn't let himself think about what carranam ment, "I know! I know, Aedion. And I'm sorry." The man only narrowed his eyes and stormed out.
That morning, when Aedion had left his spot where he had perched for the night, keeping watch, he had slipped down the steps, and stepped into the little spare room.
His queen sat slumped in the hard wooden chair next to the Prince, the latter's arm resting in her lap. "Did you even sleep," Aedion asked quietly, trying to calm the worry throbbing in his heart. And when she shook her head he bit back a growl. "When are we leaving," was her only question. "Whenever you think we should."
Aelin glanced at Rowan, and slid her hand into his. "Do you think he's fit to travel?" Her question was so quiet, even Aedion strained to hear it, and when he leaned in closer to look at her, he saw silver lining those eyes. "Aelin," he said softly. "He'll be fine." She nodded and stood, grabbing the blood splattered cloak and shirt of the floor. "Then let's go."
For two days, Rowan had slept, barely moving. For two days Aelin had almost gone out of her damned mind. The only way to get her mind off Rowan, was to plan their upcoming assault on the castle. Another way they could get themselves all killed. She stretched out lazily on the comfortable arm chair beside her bed, and propped her feet atop the humongous mattress. Rowan had once told her that when a female was sick, or injured, the males around her would go . . . Primal. Distantly she wondered if it was the same with females. Aelin supposed it would be, when Chaol and Nesryn had dropped by to check on Rowan and drop off more information, Chaol had stepped closer to assess Rowan, and she had actually growled at the man. She shifted in the chair, and didn't glance up as Aedion walked in.
"How is he," Aedion's voice boomed, and she flinched. "He's fine you ass, now pipe down!" Her cousin smirked and plopped down in the chair across from her, "Don't worry, he'll be up on his feet in no time, and you two can get back to annoying the hell out of each other." Aelin bit her lip, and nodded, her thoughts drifting back to the dingy little inn, and her hands sliding over his smooth skin. . . She shifted in the chair again. "Aelin, solstice is coming up, and I was wondering. ." Aedion didn't finish, and she leveled a stare at him. " You're wondering when I'll make my move?" He nodded slowly, and she sighed, "I need to think about it Aedion, we need to think about it." Something in his face told her that he knew exactly what she meant, but still he said, " Then let's think about it."
So they talked, and planned, and thought until her head began to ache and her throat hurt. And finally after had to have been two hours Aedion asked, "So you're going to ask Ress and Brullo to just leave a back door open so you can sneak in?"
She gave him a withering look, "Don't be so simple minded. I'm going to walk in through the front door. "
A low groan sounded, and Aelin spun to Rowan. Lunging across the bed. "How are you feeling? You seem all right." Aelin pressed a hand to his brow, to test for fever, and to keep it from shaking. He grunted, "Fine." He was still pale, but his shoulder seemed to have knitted back together. Something inside her unfurled, and she moved closer to him. His eyes--now clear and precise-- ran over her.
"I'm going to murder that bitch."
She smiled, "If you're in the mood for violence, then you I suppose you're just fine." Her eyes burned and her voice was tight. He reached out with his good arm, and squeezed her hand tightly. "Please don't ever do that again," she breathed. Something like anger flashed across his face, but he smiled dryly. "Next time I'll ask them not to fire arrows at you- or me." She felt her mouth wobble, and she pressed her brow to his uninjured arm, choking on another sob. He raised his other arm to stroke her hair, and a part of her wanted to reprimand him for using it, but . . The feeling of him touching her was overwhelming.
From the back of the room, Aedion cleared his throat. Aelin had almost forgotten he was there. "We've been thinking up a plan for freeing magic- and taking out the king and Dorian." Rowan tensed under her, "Just- tell me tomorrow." She raised her head to study him, and was about to shout at Aedion to grab him a glass of water, when her cousin yawned- and excused himself. She felt bad about being glad when he began exiting the room. She wanted her prince to herself for awhile. Then Rowan straightened, "Aedion, thank you."
"Anytime, brother." Aelin looked between them, suprise no doubt written all over her face. "What?" He asked. Aelin shook her head and grabbed his calloused hand, "You're too nice when you're wounded. It's unsettling." He scooted back against the pillows, and growled, "Go take a bath, I'm not sleeping next to you while you're covered in that witch's blood." She wanted to refuse, wanted to tell him to deal with it because she wasn't leaving him, but she examined her nails. "Ugh. I've washed them them ten times already." Aelin slowly rose, and turned slightly, but Rowan quietly asked, "Why? Why did you save her?" She ran a hand through her hair, the movement causing little trickles of pain to run down her arm. Rowan's pupils narrowed at the sight, but she went on. "Because that golden-haired witch, Asterin. . Screamed Manon name the way I screamed yours." Aelin looked down at her boots, "How can I take away someone who means the world to someone else? Even if she's my enemy." She shrugged and rolled her neck, "I thought you were dying. It seemed like bad luck to let her die out of spite. And. ." She snorted,"Falling onto a ravine seemed like a pretty shitty way to die for someone who fights that spectacularly." It wasn't a lie. Manon had been one of the most skilled warriors she had ever fought. Rowan smiled broadly, "You make me proud to serve you." Aelin's eyes burned, but she smiled, too. "I know."
After scrubbing herself raw, Aelin stepped out of the bathing room, finding Rowan already asleep. Quietly, she blew out the candles, and slid into bed, careful not to jostle Rowan. "Took you long enough," Rowan murmured, his deep voice rumbling through her. "Well, I didn't want his royal Faeness to have to bear my stench." He growled, and shifted closer to her. Aelin swung her leg over his waist, and pressed her head to his chest. "I'm sorry this happened, Rowan," she whispered, her eyes burning. He snarled, and she rolled her eyes, "Aelin, it is my duty to protect you. You shouldn't apologize." She sighed, and hugged him tightly. "You almost died. Shut up." He huffed, and kissed her hair. "Alright." I love you. She wanted to say that. Wanted to let him know that when that arrow had pierced his skin, the thing she could think about was that he didn't know.
But instead she pressed her head closer to him, letting her thoughts and feelings drift into nothingness.
OMG. Empire of Storms. Omg. I finished it in one day. Holy crap. My upcoming stories will have spoilers.