Hellfire

Aelin

Aelin fought her urge to hold onto the ground for dear life as her own handwriting floated in front of her. That woman, the woman she had fought for, killed for, in order to get her out, had made it. The threads of fate really don't lie.

Slowly, Aelin folded the paper back up and placed it back into the oval locket Yrene had handed her. The lock clicked, and the sound cut through Aelin's film of tears. She lifted her head, and found Yrene kneeling in front of her, those beautiful golden-brown eyes soft and lined with silver.

Aelin wasn't prepared for Chaol to kneel down beside her. She slid her gaze to him, and watched silently as he laid his hand on Yrene's. Then she looked closer. A simple silver band adorned his ring finger. Her breath caught. She looked at his face, and was bowled over by how calm he was. Settled. She laid a hand over her mouth, tears gathering in her eyes once more.

"Congratulations are indeed in order then," she said breathlessly. Chaol smiled as Yrene ducked her head, and Aelin felt like her heart might explode. She handed the locket back, and stood shakily, some of her limbs half-numb from kneeling in the dirt. She stumbled a bit, and immediately Rowan was behind her, making sure she didn't fall, and make a fool of yourself, a small voice whispered. She shook her head slightly at that, and straightened her tunic.

"I'm not sure we're the only ones who should be congratulated," Chaol commented, looking pointedly at her left hand and smiling as he helped Yrene to her feet. Aelin held up the hand in question, admiring the way the gold caught the light. "Perhaps not," she purred back, a half-smile lighting upon her lips. Emotion bubbled up inside her, even as she could feel the court behind her, feel their confusion and hope and joy. She embraced Yrene, who had become so beautiful in the years since she had given her that gold, and taught her how to remove the eyeballs of men.

"Thank you," she whispered, squeezing tight. "For saving him." She felt Yrene nod against her shoulder, then pulled back, to study the both of them. Joy, yes, but something else. Something darker. Stories, then. They all had many stories to tell them, and most not the good kind.

"Later," she told the both of them, willing this bliss to stay a bit longer. They understood, and smiled faintly. She noticed a man standing a bit behind them, and blinked. His face. She recognized his face from somewhere. The posture, the brooding features, and dark eyes. He looked well into his forties. He came forward, eyes fixed on her face, and his mouth dropped open.

"You-you're Aelin Galaythius?"

She nodded slowly, daring a step towards him, Rowan following closely. The man grinned, tears welling in his eyes.

"You were there, in the Red Desert."

Aelin stopped dead. Spidersilk. He was the spidersilk vendor, the one who had sold twenty years off of his life for his fortune. Who had given her the small piece to place in her suit. And Sam's. Aelin swallowed.

Nesryn reappeared and brought the man closer to her. Light flashed, and in the man's place stood a dog. Aelin inhaled sharply. Another shifter. Rowan's surprised sniff and huff of breath confirmed it.

"You-You're like me?" breathed a voice behind her. Lysandra cautiously approached from behind Aelin, and she noticed Evangeline clinging tight to the former courtesan's hand. She let out a sigh of relief; the girl was safe.

"Falkan is a shifter," Nesryn confirmed, smiling slightly. Aelin waited. There was something - some secret that was about to be unveiled, she could feel it. Falkan shifted back into his human form, and gazed at Lysandra.

"Is this your natural form?" he asked, the words soft. Lysandra blinked, but shook her head.

"I forgot my original form long ago," she answered quietly. "Why do you ask?"

Falkan was smiling softly, tears welling in his eyes. Nesryn was smiling broadly next to him.

"I think I'm your uncle," Falkan breathed. Aelin went still, as Lysandra slackened. Evangeline looked up at the man. "Uncle?" she chirped. Falkan's gaze drifted down to Evangeline, and his face went taut at her scars.

Aelin stepped in. "Before you make any snap judgments about who your supposed niece is, we have stories to tell, and many of them. Starting with the fact that Lysandra was thrown out as a child, and learned to make herself more beautiful to survive. The skin she's in now was the one she was wearing when our continent lost the use of magic. Therefore, she forgot what she looked like. She spent the rest of her years as a courtesan, in a gilded cage."

Falkan looked like someone had punched him in the gut. She couldn't blame him. Aelin looked at Evangeline, who hugged Lysandra around the waist.

"This child was sold to the same brothel that Lysandra worked for, and Lysandra saved her from having to live and be abused as a courtesan by scarring her, and then working off the debt she would have been worth unscarred before I paid it off for her." She faced Falkan, and Satarq who had come to stand beside Nesryn. She squared her shoulders at the Prince's accusatory glare.

"This woman sold herself and her life to keep the child from enduring the same horrors she did. Do not think badly because of the scars. Those marks saved her life, and she is beautiful with or without them," she added smiling faintly at Evangeline.

"I'm beautiful?" she whispered, peering up at her.

"Of course you are," thundered Aedion, apparently tired of staying back. He ruffled Evangeline's hair, and she smiled up at him.

The rest of her court filed after him; the cadre, Endymion, Ilias, Galan, Elide, Ansel, and Morgan. Satarq looked them all over, eyeing Rowan as he stepped closer to her.

"We have much to discuss," the Prince said quietly. Aelin watched as Rowan sized him up, then the army that stood behind him.

"Indeed we do."