20 VOTES = DOUBLE UPDATE!!!!
I reached over 2.3k views and 100 votes on my story! You guys are so awesome, and as thank, here's a longer chapter.
Almost TWICE AS LONG! :)
~
Blood, there was so much blood on her.
It matted her hair, it covered her skin, her clothes, it seemed to be all over her skin, staining it a crimson red.
Rowan's own blood heated as he saw the slashes in her clothes, as he saw the source of all that blood.
But he suffocated the wrath burning in his veins, and hid it away, for now.
Rowan silently carried Aelin in his arms as he walked out of the palace of stone. Gavriel, looked at him, about to ask something, but then saw Aelin in his arms and stopped completely still. Rowan shook his head no, at the question in the Fae male's tawny eyes.
Gavriel whooshed out a breath, and Rowan noticed Lorcan, Elide, Fenrys, and Connall walking towards them.
They all stopped right in front of him, and they seemed to have gone through the battle mostly unscathed.
Lorcan had a nasty scratch on the side of his head, but he barely seemed to notice it as he spoke. "Maeve, is she... is she dead?"
The rest of the group blanched at the question, even Elide.
Rowan took a deep breath in and said. "Yes, Aelin killed her, and for now Doranelle is under Aelin's rule."
Fenrys nodded at the answer, his face a bit lighter than it was a few weeks ago, even in the grim circumstances. "I can't feel the blood oath anymore, it just feels like it had been cut."
"Who handles the politics of Doranelle," Lorcan asked, his dark eyes still gleaming with the spark of the battle.
"Gavriel, Fenrys, and Connall will for now, we will figure out the rest later." Rowan replied. "We need to see who is dead and who is just unconscious, and then dispose of the bodies, starting now."
Rowan turned and walked away, not bothering to see if they listened to him or not. He carried Aelin in his arms as he walked through the streets, which were quiet and noiseless, so different than the usual life filling them.
His residence in Doranelle seemed to be the only option for him right now, but it might have very well been given away.
The manor loomed up in front of him now, the Whitethorn manor. But Rowan simply just passed it, and turned to the small house at the edge of a river.
Rowan smiled at the house, it was small, but it was where he would go to when his cousins became too nosy, or just when his own manor became to large.
The door to the cabin gave way easily as he coaxed it open, and then walked towards his room.
Gently setting Aelin onto the bed, Rowan smiled at her.
Gods, he had been going literally out of his senses these past few weeks. All of what he had been thinking about was her, and now... now Aelin was here, alive and safe.
She had saved herself and killed Maeve while doing it. The power she wielded... it was the strongest Rowan had ever seen of her. He was not afraid of her flames, no, he would never be afraid of her. He afraid of what that power might do to her, of what the power would bring for them back in Terrasen.
But all of that didn't matter now, he would worry about it all later. Because Aelin was here with him now, asleep maybe, but still near him.
Rowan stroked across her face, a thin layer of dirt appearing on his fingers. His kissed her brow, and walked to the bathing room, ready to get the blood off of him.
He did not want to leave her alone, but the feel of her blood on his skin was an unbearable feeling.
But that didn't mean he didn't leave an impenetrable shield of air around her before walking into the room.
***
He emerged from the bathing room a half hour later, dressed in a tunic and pants. Rowan shook out his wet hair, water droplets glinting as they fell to the ground. He was about to go to the kitchen when the bed creaked and groaned as it moved.
"Rowan," Aelin said hoarsely, her mouth dry. Rowan walked to her side, his mouth turning into a frown as he surveyed her. She rose up on her elbows and kissed him softly. He lifted her chin with a hand and she scooted closer to him.
She deepened the kiss, and wrapped her arms around Rowan's neck while she breathed in his scent. By the gods, she had missed his scent so damn much.
When they finally disconnected, she watched his pine green eyes search her face. "How are you feeling," he said gently, his hand brushing her jawline.
The blood on her was still not completely dry, and Rowan felt wrath flow throughout him again as he saw it.
She groaned as she stretched out her arms, "Fine, but tired."
"Then sleep, you look like you need it too." He replied, chuckling. He went silent then, his pine-green eyes seeming to be stuck on her face. He stared at her, as if making sure that she was here, she was home.
She had only been gone for a few weeks, but it felt longer.
Much, much, longer.
"Already the Fae bastard talk" Aelin grumbled, though she fell silent too. After a moment or two she ran a hand through her hair. It came away covered in flecks of grime and blood.
Gods it had been so long since she had a proper bath, she was tired, but a bath didn't sound so bad right now.
"I need a bath," Aelin told him as she rose up on her legs, well, as she tried to anyway.
Her knees were shaking as she attempted to take a step towards the bathing chamber.
Rowan just lifted her up and ignored her protests as he carried her to the tub.
Aelin took off her dirty shirt and pants, then her undergarments as Rowan turned the water on.
She was careful about making sure he didn't see her ravaged back, she didn't want him to see it right now. The brutal dark marks on her once still-recognizable skin, the bright red, bleeding cuts over those scars.
Her heart sank as she thought about how the beautiful tattoos Rowan had lovingly drew on her skin were now mere scraps, the designs now completely destroyed, with almost no hope of them being restored.
But all of the thoughts went out of her head as she sank into the tub and felt the warm water touch her skin.
The water bit at her still-open wounds, but she would ignore it, and forget about it.
She moaned, the heat soothing her throbbing body, and Rowan chuckled. Aelin scrubbed at the dirt on her skin, and did so until it was all gone.
Rowan stayed silent the whole time, watching her, as if again trying to make sure that she was here, that she was alive.
Aelin scanned the bottles arranged near the walls, and grabbed a hair tonic. She was about to dump some in her hand and put it in her golden hair at an attempt to clean it, but Rowan came up next to her and gently took the bottle out of her hand.
"Here," he said gruffly, "Let me."
She just nodded her head and smiled at him, and then angled her hear where he could clean her hair, but not see her back.
Rowan gently massaged the tonic into he scalp, and it reminded her of that time in Rifthold when she had done the same to him.
It seemed like it had happened a million years ago, in a world where the glass castle remained, where Maeve was living, where Rowan and her still didn't know that they were mates.
Mates. She smiled softly at the word. They were mates, a bond deeper than any marriage, deeper than anything else.
And that smile stayed on her face as Rowan gave her a towel and scooped her up after she had wrapped it around herself.
A bone-weary exhaustion had set itself over Aelin as she tugged on her undergarments and trousers, still keeping the towel over her shoulders.
But before she put on her shirt Rowan spoke out. "Aelin, I... I need to examine your wounds, the ones on your back."
Her heart stopped, but she forced herself to nod. Aelin walked towards the bed, and laid down on her stomach, it was an effort to keep her eyes open, she needed to see his reaction, need to comfort him when he saw her destroyed tattoos.
But Aelin was so gods-damned tired, and in the next moment sleep swept over her.
***
As Aelin laid down on her stomach, Rowan braced himself for what he might see. He had seen his share of vicious and deadly injuries, but his chest tightened at the thought of seeing them on Aelin.
He walked up next to her, and saw that she was asleep.
Maybe he should not examine her wounds then, but some of them might still be open, and he guessed it would be better is Aelin was asleep if he had to clean them.
With a gentle hand, he removed the towel. And his breath caught as he saw her back.
It was covered in scars, so many scars. There must have been at least thirty new scars on her back.
Whatever shame or regret he had felt at Maeve's death vanished as he beheld the scars from each and every one of her lashes. He touched one gently, and his fingers recoiled as he touched a grounded mixture in the scars.
Powdered iron and salt, they had put iron and salt in her wounds.
Rage flooded through him, he should have tortured Cairn, the man hadn't died slow or painfully enough.
The tattoos on her back was in ribbons, each new scar brutal against his mate's skin.
How the hell was Aelin still alive? How the hell was she not broken?
The power she had wielded today shouldn't have even been able to form with the pain she had felt.
The rage in him roared at Cairn, at Maeve. But they were dead, a small relief for Aelin,... and himself.
He strode to the cabinet full of healing supplies, and grabbed the whole box. As gently as he could, he cut open the scars on her back and cleaned them, removing all the iron and salt from her wounds.
Using the bandages in the box, he gingerly laid one over each and every slash in her back that he had opened and cleaned. They would still be brutal scars, but at least they wouldn't send agony if they were ever touched.
Rowan carefully put Aelin shirt over her head, and then gathered her up in his arms while he laid down on the bed.
She was back, his Fireheart, here with him. She was here, alive and unbroken.
And he promised himself before he was lost to sleep, that it would stay that way.
Hi guys, hoped you liked this chapter. I think it is the longest one I have written for this story (it's 1846 words). Thanks for reading and check back later for the next chapter. Please also remember to vote and comment too.