It was almost like clockwork. He woke up just when it turned midnight and left the empty bed. It struck him how ironic this all was. Just yesterday, Aelin was there to keep his nightmares at bay, nightmares that were leading up to this anniversary. Now, when he needed- no, not needed. Wanted. Wanted her most, at this very moment, she was gone.
This dreadful day, the day he could not forget even if he were tortured for years on end, the day he wished never came to be, but did.
The day of his mate's death and the death of his mind and heart.
/
His wind was gone, Emrys noticed. No matter how hot or cold it was, when Rowan stepped into the kitchen, pots and pans would slightly rattle and any leftover cornmeal lifted into the air. It was a pain to clean up, but it was normal. Normal was something he came to appreciate after the showdown between Adarlan's soldiers and the Fae.
This day was different. The air was stale and constricting, not like the usual breath of fresh air. The other workers felt the same too, yawning and muttering some excuse to leave the area.
Emrys stayed. He had never left when people needed him most and he wasn't going to start now. Not when Rowan's face was on the verge of something worse than revenge or blood-thirst. It was pained. With loneliness?Desperation? Or yearning for the unchanging past? It seemed like all three, yet completely different.
He made his way cautiously to the warrior's side, knowing that any sudden movements was going to scare him off. Rowan seemed even more fragile than Aelin was when she first came to Mistward.
"Prince."
She called him that before they knew each other. He had been rowdy and energetic, every part of him being untamed, wild, and free. When he walked down the streets with his men, he felt unstoppable. His wind blew through the stores and the Fae, garnering laughs and shrieks. This was the moment, he had thought back then, that he truly felt alive.
"I don't want to talk about it."
He can't stop the memories. The first meeting. It was two hundred and fifty years ago and yet he can relive every detail as if it were yesterday. The day had been cloudy, and he wasn't helping anyone with his cold blast of air.
He stopped at this tiny stall. It was filled to the brim with various flowers of colors that ranged from yellow to black. Something caught his attention. It was the wild flowers from the country of Nefir. Nostalgia hit him and he found himself smiling. He remembered training there when he hadn't even hit his first century. Perhaps he should buy this flower.
As he walked closer, a female Fae walked out from the alley behind the stall. In that instant, his life changed.
"I wasn't going to. Want me to make some hot chocolate? It's a popular Adarlan comfort drink."
"Adarlan?"
"Forgive me if I'm overstepping, but I think you need something to remind you of better times."
Rowan didn't understand at first. What better times? There were no such things in the world. At least, not anymore. And especially not Adarlan. Nothing good came out of there.
But. But something did. Rowan didn't want to think anymore. He left the kitchen, and took his dry air with him.
/
He was at the ruins once again.
It was the closest place of worship and somehow, he knew he needed divine powers to get through this day. Mala.
The warmth coursed through him, just like the day before Aelin and he confronted Maeve.
My dear, the warmth seemed to say, what ever is the problem?
Rowan didn't want the tears to fall. So he prayed. And prayed. And prayed.
/
He didn't want to remember. But Mala was encouraging him. He closed his eyes and found himself in a house. It seemed very familiar but he couldn't recognize it. All he knew was that the pain in his heart told him that it was related to Lyria.
Gods and goddesses, even saying her name was hard.
There was a door on the opposite side of the room and he could hear faint sobs.
Without any hesitation, he ran towards the door and threw it open. Blood. Blood on the walls, on the floor on the bed, on him, on her, on everything.
Lyria was crying on the foot of their shared bed. She was holding her stomach.
'Our baby.' She moaned over and over again. 'Our baby.'
/
The scene changed before he could do anything. Blessed with Fae abilities and powers and he felt so utterly useless. It was like reliving the whole thing all over again. The news as it was told to him. The rush of panic and anxiety.
His. Heart. Breaking.
There was now a park. It was serene and beautiful and reminded him of the life he had. This was on one of their earlier dates, when he was still courting her. His friends all laughed at him. A Prince? Courting the rabble?
It didn't matter to him. He would growl at them to shut up. None of them had mates yet, so of course they didn't know. The bond between the two souls, binding them for eternity.
Rowan walked closer to the large tree located right at the center. They would have picnics here everyday. Rowan would bring meat he had caught and Lyria would bring potatoes and greens from her personal garden.
Together they would feast like they were dining with lords and ladies. Their social statuses and strict traditions didn't touch them. Nothing could with Rowan by her side. He felt more powerful than the decades of training he went through.
Love. He swore to protect it. Protect her.
Didn't happen.
/
Rowan couldn't take it anymore. This wasn't a road to redemption. This was a guilt trip.
Mala must have wanted him to take responsibility, to remind him that he can never forget this. It would be betrayal.
'No.'
He whisked around to find Lyria standing before him. He closed the distance between them and hugged her fiercely. He didn't want to ever let go.
'Lyria. Gods. 'Lyria.'
She broke down and sunk into his arms. He didn't know if this was a vision but this was very convincing. It felt like her, her warmth and energy. It made him cry even harder.
'Rowan, listen to me okay? I can't be here long.'
He didn't respond; he only tightened his hold on her. She was going to disappear and it was inevitable. He wanted to damn the inevitable.
She took her hands and cupped his face, tilting them down to meet her brown eyes.
'I want you to accept what happened to me.'
'No!' He roared. Is that the only course of action he can take? He never will. He'll hate the world with a burning fire for taking her away from him. He's so, so afraid that he's going to forget about her if he doesn't have that rage. It would be like killing her for the second time.
'Please…I can't stand to see you like this. My death… You can't change the past, Rowan. Some part of me will always be there with you. Both of us will.'
The baby.
'I can't do that to you. You don't deserve this. You don't deserve to be forgotten.'
'Who says you're forgetting me?' She smiled mischievously and Rowan almost chuckled. It was just like this. Rowan being all too serious. Lyria loosening him up.
'When you lose your mate-" Rowan started to say, but he was cut off.
'It's like losing a part of yourself. I know, Rowan.'
'But…how?'
How does someone just move on? There wasn't a guide book. Or a step-by-step plan to follow. He was utterly, completely, unequivocally alone.
'Don't you see? You already have someone to help.'
/
It was evening now.
Rowan stood up shakily. He touched his face gingerly, feeling the sticky and salty substance of his dried tears.
He was supposed to have learned some truth. But what?
The world seemed to turn harder around him. It kept going and going, never stopping. It didn't care about the number of deaths or the regrets or the mistakes. Rowan had once hated it. But now he understood. The world kept turning because there was no point in going back. It's future was always bright because it didn't let the past tarnish it.
Just like her.
As he made his way back to the fort, he felt something inside of him. His bond with Aelin started to loosen.
He couldn't breathe.
There was only one possible explanation for this to be happening. She was dead or dying or worse.
The bond was severing.
The warmth rushed through him once again. Prince, oh dear prince, don't despair.
So, Rowan listened. He listened to his heart and to his feelings. He listened to Mala. He listened to the world. And he realized that although the bond was severing, something stronger was replacing it.
His Aelin.
Carranam.
His Queen.
Strong.
His Fireheart.
Courageous.
His Aelin.
Mate.