Acotar and Tog [Discontinued, Will be deleted]

Maeve

Their travel to Mistward had been quiet. By the third day, the quietness of the girl slightly unsettled him. He reminded himself that the girl was not his concern. He only needed to deliver her to Maeve and then meet up with Gavriel. He was not certain where the fiery girl that had stuck her tongue out at just a hawk had gone. When she had stuck her tongue out he wanted to transform right then and there. If only to see her reaction, to see something other than the cold dullness in her eyes.

“I think I’d rather stay in the woods.”

That was the most ignorant thing she had said. Instead of correcting her ignorance, it was much easier for him to ignore her. He walked past the guards without a second thought, they had known who he was, and who was currently sitting in one of the offices within Mistward. He was sure they were all noting the human girl and the rumors would be flying about by morning.

She silently followed him to the office.

“Hello, Aelin Galathynius.”

He stood by the door. He held back a growl as the girl backed right into him. Too close.

In their proximity, he could see that the  girl was barely controlling herself. He could see her hands shaking, but he was uncertain if the shaking was from fear or anger. It was almost as if the mention of her name had unleashed some monster that she needed to leash within her. Monster. That was something that he well understood.

“Aelin Galathynius is dead.” Of all the words he had expected her to say, those were not it. It was well known that the Galathynius line had died ten years ago, many believed that the little princess of wildfire was included. He was  surprised in learning whom he was suppose to collect from Varese.

“I suppose with a proper bath, you’ll look a good deal like your mother.”

His attention was drawn back to his aunt and that damned owl. To this day he still had no idea if the owl was a fae or a pet. Considering that it had been with Maeve in all the years he had known her, he was leaning more towards a fae.

“Had I known who I would be meeting, I might have begged my escort for time to freshen up.”

There she is, the girl with an ember of fire that would stick her tongue out at a nameless hawk. Maeve looked at him. He had followed her orders, escort Aelin to Mistward as quickly as possible. She never said to make her presentable or to take a break a bath. And as well as he could read her, she read him.

“I’m afraid I must bear the blame for pressing the pace, though I suppose he could have bothered to at least find you a pool to bathe in along the way.”

In his defense there was a brook that she could have swam in.

“Prince Rowan is from my sister Mora’s bloodline. He is my nephew of sorts, and a member of my household. An extremely distant relation of yours; there is some ancient ancestry linking you.”

What he would give to see the look on her face, when she realized he was a prince. What a set of royals they were. He was not a prince in name, but a prince that held lands his uncle currently managed while he served Doranelle. He supposed in the three days of mutual silence he could have mentioned a little about himself, but he learned long ago that anonymity has its purpose.  He could have told her of the life he once remembered. The years of training and missions that shaped the cold warrior he had become. How he was buried in 200 years worth of glacial ice. The world was easier to survive without feelings.

“You don’t say.”

“You must be wondering why I asked Prince Rowan to bring you here.”

He knew and Maeve probably knew that Aelin was biting her tongue.

“I’ve been waiting a long, long while to meet you. And as I do not leave these lands, I could not see you. Not with my eyes, at least. They broke my laws, you know. Your parents disobeyed my commands when they eloped. The bloodlines were to volatile to be mixed, but when your mother promised to let me see you after you were born. It would seem that in the eight years after your birth, she was always too busy to uphold her vow. But now you are here and a grown woman. My eyes across the sea have brought me strange, horrible stories of you. From your scars and steel, I wonder whether they are indeed true. Like the tale I heard over a year ago, that an assassin with Ashryver eyes was spotted by the horned Lord of the North in a wagon bound for --”

“Enough. I know my own history.”

Bound for where? Maeve had known the girl lived, why not bring her here sooner? He hated himself, why was he even curious, the girl was not his concern. Never would be. He sole purpose was his next mission, to continue to look for that unknown place he yearned for.

“I’m an assassin, yes.”

He could not help but snort, this girl, this 18 year old girl was not an assassin.

“”And your other talents? What has become of them?”

“Like everyone else on my continent, I haven’t been able to access them.”

“Show me.”

He waited. Wondering how deep the embers ran through her blood? He would not lie to himself, he was curious, if only because his magic pulled towards the embers within her blood.

“Your mother hid you from me for years, she and your father always had a remarkable talent for knowing when my eyes were searching for you. Such a rare gift -- the ability to summon and manipulate flame. So few exist who possess more than an ember of it; fewer still who can master its wildness. And yet your mother wanted you to stifle your power - though she knew that I only wanted you to submit to it.”

That is why she wanted the girl, to see how strong the embers were. No Maeve was not merely curious, he knew what he had sworn himself to. Maeve collected power.

“Look at how that turned out for them.”

“And where were you ten years ago?”

He knew that anger, that loss.

“Why not -”

He could not help the growl that left his throat. It was not as Maeve had believed, it was not in defense of the girl cutting off his queen, no he knew where this was going. In order for Aelin to enter Doranelle she would have to train. Magic had been smothered in Erilea for the past decade. Any magical knowledge the girl had would be that of an eight year old, her control would have been limited if not stifled. Who better to train the girl, then the fae that bore the complete opposite power. He barely heard the exchange between them, he was stuck here to train the girl. He was certain of one thing, he did not like the girl. There was nothing sweet, nothing caring about the girl. The mention of his name brought his attention back to the conversation at hand.

“I wish for you to become who you were born to be. To become queen.”

At the mention of this girl being queen, something deep in him stirred … First Mala answering his prayers, then the Little Folk blessing and now Maeve.