A Court of Baes & Feels

Aelin . . .

By pages.of.spilled.ink on Instagram.

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Aelin had given up. As the iron ate away at the last of her fire, she let out a sob. She knew the end was near—it had been getting closer for a while. Something in her could feel it.

Something in her was being tugged to another place, somewhere with light & happiness. She smiled as she felt the tug pulling her closer. And finally, the tug stopped pulling.

She looked around, but all she could see was darkness. Even here, chains of iron kept her trapped.

Now it was cold & she felt so alone. The cold ate through the iron & froze her bones that were once filled with glorious golden flames. She whimpered as the temperature kept on dropping, tortured screaming & pleading beginning to ring out.

So this was to be her punishment. The Heir of Fire locked in ice.

She could smell home so nearby, tugging at her. But the cold kept her still. Tears coated the chains of iron. Home. So close. But even here, she was to be locked up.

Even in death, she would atone for all the lives she had taken.

And then . . . and then the door of her iron coffin was ripped off by ice, & she saw nothing but silver hair & pine green eyes.

And then she realized that the tugging had been the bond, that the cold had been his ice, that it had been him she smelled.

Rowan.

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I may have not signed up for any feels trip, but I was dragged involuntarily, so I'm voluntelling all of you guys as well. (And yes, I know what I just typed.)

So here's something less touchy-feely!!

And for our daily programming, Good for Nothing Tools: