Hellfire

Aelin

Morgan, as it turned out, was not a bad cook. Or maybe it was just her being famished. Perhaps both. Aelin shoved food down her throat with such speed that Fenrys had taken to gawking at her anytime she reached for more. Indeed, as she extended her hand towards a platter of roasted asparagus, Fenrys yelped.

"You're taking more, Aelin? Aren't you full yet?"

She just glared at him and took a handful. Morgan just laughed. She had become increasingly more easygoing as their journey progressed, and Aelin wondered how unsure she had been of them when she first rescued her.

"Hey, Morgan, didn't you say we'd be at Terrasen by now?" Fenrys said loudly, slinging an arm over the back of his twin's chair and sloshing a bit of drink onto the ground. Connall hissed and batted his arm away. Fenrys merely took another swig from his tankard. Aelin prayed the galley only had a few bottles of alcohol.

"As foul-mouthed as he is," Connall admitted, shoving Fenrys back into his chair (he had leaned out of it in attempt to steal food off of Connall's plate), "he does have a point."

Morgan nodded, sipping from her glass of water. "He is correct. However, we stopped to fish and then pick up Rowan, so we lost a bit of ground. We should reach it by early morning."

Morgan turned towards Aelin and Rowan. Aelin stopped chewing and swallowed, preparing herself for the questions.

"Do you know where your army is likely stationed at the moment?" she inquired. Aelin looked to Rowan. She had not been there in the final moments of departure. Rowan nodded absently. "They were headed north towards Terrasen last I heard of them. They will likely head for Orynth, to meet with the Lords who currently preside over it," he explained, jaw clenching. Aelin smiled. "Aedion is enough of a match for Darrow don't worry," she cooed, patting his cheek. Rowan just looked at her in disbelief. She laughed quietly, reaching for a piece of bread.

"Again, Aelin!?" Fenrys howled, his cheeks red with alcohol. She stuck out her tongue at him, and rose from the table, wincing as her back twanged. Morgan looked at her in concern, rising as well. "May I take another look at your back, Aelin? To see how it is progressing?"

The female was kind, really, Aelin had to admit as they descended to Aelin's room. She had been a bit taken aback at first, but had become accustomed to her, even enjoying her company. She could tell Rowan still didn't fully trust her, but she expected that.

Morgan closed the door behind them, and stacked the used trays that Aelin had meant to bring up with them on a low lying table. Aelin sat on the bed and took off her shirt, then spun, so her back was to Morgan.

She heard her take in a breath, then run her fingers lightly over the tissue.

"Is it bad?" Aelin whispered, clutching the blanket between her fingers. "It's not as bad as it was," Morgan began, rummaging through the bag of medicine she always kept at her side. "But it's not as good as I hoped it would be."

Aelin heard the door open, and smelled the pine and snow as Rowan stood next to Morgan, taking in her ruined back.

"She destroyed your tattoo," he growled, watching as Morgan placed a few herbs in her palms and pressed them into her wounds. She sighed, feeling them take effect instantly.

"Those should clot up the biggest open wounds quickly. I don't want you catching an infection while on the ship. Once those close up, I can start using my magic to speed the healing process, but I don't want to risk it when you're still experiencing this level of pain." Morgan came around to face Aelin and handed her two cups of pain killer - laced water. "These are for tonight and tomorrow, and after that, I'm taking you off the painkillers to let your natural healing process take over before I start using magic, okay?" Aelin nodded.

"Thank you, Morgan. Really. It's helped a lot," Aelin said, tugging her shirt back over her head. Morgan swiped the trays off the table as she headed for the door. "It's no trouble," she replied, a small smile on her face, before closing the door behind her.

Rowan came to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. Aelin sighed, her head dipping. Too soon would she be involved with war negotiations, too soon would she have to face all who she'd called to join her, to command legions and face the darkness threatening to consume them all. There was so much at stake.

"You don't have to shoulder it all, you know," Rowan said quietly, pulling her hair back from her face. She lifted her head to look into his eyes. Soft pine green greeted her, his inherent fierceness fading to gentleness she doubted few would ever see. She leaned her head on his shoulder, her back muscles easing thanks to the herbs from Morgan.

"Do you feel better?" he inquired, leaning back onto the bed, tugging her with him. "A little," she admitted. "But it's not a huge improvement." Rowan nodded, nestling her against him before reaching over and grabbing one of the cups of water.

He sniffed it before handing it to her. "Drink," he told her. She did, draining the whole thing before snuggling herself against Rowan, his arms wrapping around her waist. Slowly, he tugged her shirt off of her, throwing it to the side. "Not tonight, Rowan," she purred, shoving his shoulder. He didn't move an inch. He just smiled into her hair. His hands traced soothing circles over her hips, sides, and shoulders, coasting his fingers over her chest before wrapping around her waist again. She smiled against his chest. She wriggled her fingers under his shirt before tugging it over his head. She traced his muscles, his shoulders, before locking her arms around his neck. He kissed her forehead before pulling the blanket over them, encasing them in warmth. She felt rather than saw his shield lock around the room, then his magic blow the candles out all at once.

"So dramatic," she whispered into his shoulder, pulling herself closer. Rowan said nothing, but she felt him smile against her hair. She tipped her head back until she stared in his pine green eyes. She kissed him softly before resting her head on her pillow, gazing at his harsh face, full of the words neither of them had to say to be understood.

I love you.