Acotar and Tog [Discontinued, Will be deleted]

Celaena Sardothien in Endovier

He sat at his work table monitoring Aelin. His instincts to protect had battled for hours against his demons. He had never fussed over his mate, the same way he was fussing over Aelin. If he had, maybe… He froze that thought deep into the dark abyss that had become his soul. If there was one lesson that was deeply ingrained, it was that he could never go back.

He looked over at Aelin, noticing she looked peaceful. At this moment he could easily see the Ashryver lineage in the gold of her skin and hair. He remembered decades ago when Rhoe had fallen in love with one of the fair princesses on a trip to Wendlyn. He had given up his right of succession to marry Evalin. The royal court in Terrasen had feared that she would would stay young as he continued to age. With no heir possible from King Orlon, it was determined that their child would be the heir to the throne.

He had a feeling it was a concession on the part of the nobles. Rhoe and Orlon were the last of Brannon’s line. He recalled the lessons that he and Edna sat through, the lessons to mold them into the heads of House Whitethorn. He recalled his uncle mentioning that Terrasen had a great distrust of Maeve and in some ways Wendlyn. Terrasen would never kneel to a princess of Wendlyn.

His eyes dropped to the scared hands and wrists that rested on her abdomen. Instead of being groomed for the crown, she had spent the past ten years being trained to kill. Instead of attending balls and royal functions, she had spent a year as a slave. She was much stronger than he had initially given her credit for. The spoiled brat facade was just that, a mark she wore to face her world.

The scent of two familiar demi-fae pulled him from his thoughts. He had always enjoyed the company of the old man and Luca was starting to grow on him, much in the same way Fenrys had. Even now in her current condition neither male were a true threat to her well being. So the growl that erupted from his throat took all of them by surprise.

Emrys flashed a knowing smile, “Well Elentiya, it seems you are in competent hands, we’ll come back in a few days.”

He appreciated the old man, but that knowing smile ruffled him. He needed to bury the thoughts that blossomed from that smile. The guilt to move forward and live while is mate has died could consume him if he let it.

He continued to study the map marking the location of the found bodies. There was not an easily seen pattern, except that the locations made little sense. He could not remember a time where he had stared so intently at a map hoping it would give him the answers he was looking for, while providing the escape of not facing the current situation in his room.

Aelin pulled him from his thoughts, “You know, I highly doubt anyone is going to attack me now, if they’ve already put up with my nonsense for this long.”

“This isn’t negotiable.”  And it was not negotiable. He could hardly explain the strength in his desire to protect her.

“So you mean to tell me that whenever someone comes close to burnout, she not only goes through all this misery, but if she’s female, the males around her go this berserk?”

He set down his pen and twisted to examine her. Was this berserk? No. Berserk would have been barring the doors, eating only meals prepared by himself. Berserk would be incapacitating every demi-fae in this fortress until she was healed. No, he was fighting against berserk.

“This is hardly berserk. At least you can defend yourself by physical means when your magic is useless. For other Fae, even if they’ve had weapons and defense training, if they can’t touch their magic, they’re vulnerable, especially when they’re drained and in pain. That makes people—usually males, yes—somewhat edgy. Others have been known to kill without thought any perceived threat, real or otherwise.”