After the War: The White Wolf of Doranelle (Fenrys Moonbeam)

Chapter 22: A Darker Chapter

Fenrys

The inside of the house was dark, expectedly. The back door to the house was locked, but it took him half a thought to jump him and Nia into the house.

But now, standing inside the home he grew up he could only stare. He had so many memories of this place, of playing and arguing with Connall. And of hugging his mother when she returned after weeks away from doing work. His eyes watered, but Fenrys pushed away the thought of his family, focusing on the woman in his arms.

The house was exactly the way he remembered it, Fenrys walking over to the living room. Part of the reason why he kept the house was that his parents designed and made the entire place for themselves and for their family, centuries before he was born. His mother specifically designed it so there would be massive glass windows in every room. Allowing natural light, whether it be sun or star, to light up the place so candles were rarely needed.

He gently placed Nia on the white couched, before wandering off to the closet where he knew the blankets were.

 Walking down the hall he stopped in front of a closed door, that was Connall's. 

His eyes started to well again, Fenrys's own room next to his.

Nia, he reminded himself, forcing his legs to keep on moving to the closet. But said fuck it and just used his magic to jump there, and grab the fluffiest blanket from the closet, before he had a mental breakdown.

Just don't think about it, Fenrys told himself. Don't think about why his blood was on your hands and why he's dead.

Suppress those thoughts, deal with them when he was alone, don't go down the dark path he was in a couple of months after the war.

TW: self harm/suicidal/eating disorder 

"You know you shouldn't sit up there," Aelin had said, a robe wrapped around her as she walked out on the balcony, three months after the war. "You might fall."

Fenrys didn't move from the ledge he was sitting on, outlooking the mountains in the distance. "Maybe I want to," however his slight smile did not meet his queen.

"That better be a joke," Aelin said, but took the spot next to him on the ledge of the palace, an inch forward and they would both fall to their death. Stories high in the palace in Orynth, warmer temperatures finally coming into season.

He knew that his queen was looking his way, but if he met her eyes she would ask him if he was okay. And Fenrys didn't feel like lying right now, even if she wouldn't believe him.

Aelin scouted an inch closer to him, a cool night breeze brushing over them. "Talk to me," Aelin said, but Fenrys didn't know how to put what he was thinking to words. How to describe what was going in his mind.

Minutes passed and eventually Aelin took his arm. She said, "I'm confiscating your knives."

His head darted to her at that, to see her stunning turquoise-gold eyes silver lined. She rubbed her thumb over his forearm as if knowing what he'd done there. "Anything that is a blade," Aelin said slowly. "I will hold on to for now."

"Aelin--" Fenrys started.

"I'm not saying that you can't train," Aelin said carefully, as if this was hard for her. "But if you want to do something that involves blades make sure that Rowan or me or someone else is there. Same thing applies to any dinner knives."

There wasn't a single marking on his arm, as was the beauty of magic healing. How Aelin knew was beyond him.

But Fenrys still opened his mouth to protest, to say that she was overreacting. But Aelin said with scary seriousness, "Tell me that you weren't considering jumping before I came here."