I Will Not Be Afraid

Set after Empire of Storms: What if Rowan made it to Aelin after eight months? How will she react? What condition will she be in? Is she too far gone? Or can Rowan save her? Will she be able to take up her role in the war?

Disclaimer: I do not own the Throne of Glass series. All rights go to Sarah J.Maas

A/N  I'd like to say that I won't be mentioning the whole, "Aelin was always meant to die thing." Comment what you think. This was originally posted on a collab account but I liked how it came out is here it is. Happy reading!

Eight months.

Rowan had been looking for his Fireheart for eight months.

He's travelled the continent searching, tracking her scent and the subtle hints Fenrys left behind for them.

It had taken all his might not to rip out Lorcan's throat. Without Gavriel, he probably would have.

But a part of him found comfort in being with them. Part of his cadre, as Aelin referred to it.

Aelin, he thought. His Fireheart. His love. His wife. His queen. His mate.

She'd been taken from him. Brutally. He saw those blood stains every time be blinked. And he couldn't forgive himself for not helping. For not getting there in time.

But finally, after eight months, he'd found her. He'd found his queen. And he would stop at nothing to bring her back home.

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All Aelin knew was pain.

She lived pain. Breathed it. Bled it.

She couldn't remember a time when she wasn't in pain. Couldn't remember what a bed felt like. Or what comfort was. And though she cursed herself for it, she couldn't help but want to end it all. So that her pain would finally stop.

Aelin didn't know how long she'd been there. How long she'd been trapped with these horrible beings. Maeve. Cairn. All of them.

They tortured her. Nonstop. Everyday. And they laughed.

When they weren't enjoying making her scream, they put her in that iron box.

She didn't know which she hated worse.

That box.... It trapped her more then anything else. It caged her. Taunted her with the power she didn't have.

It made her completely aware of her pain. How she couldn't heal herself. How even the slightest cuts stung and made her eyes water.

How utterly helpless she was.

The only time she wasn't in that box or being whipped, cut, drowned, or many of the creative torments they'd conjured up in their devilish heads, she was curled up on her side, bare, and shivering.

Those times were the only thing keeping her fighting. Those five minutes of freedom every couple days. Those times when they let her out of that cage, left her alone, so that some of her wounds could heal enough to keep her alive. But never too much. Never completely.

  She couldn't count how many injuries she had. How many new scars they'd added to her body. How many were infected.

There were times when Aelin forgot her own name. When she couldn't remember her past and couldn't imagine a future. When she forgot her friends, her family. When her brain shut down from pain. From utter darkness Maeve had mercilessly trapped her in.