Notes: I know it's been a while, but recently I've had the time and inspiration so I figured why not. Hope you all like it

He drinks alone, one night in the cabin on the ship's passage to Terrasen. Tomorrow, he would be the general of Aelin's forces, and advisor to the queen. Tonight was for his grief. Drinking was an old vice of his, from his earliest days in Ardalan's army. When grief threatened to overwhelm him, he'd retreat to somewhere private, and drink until he forgot his own name, and just allow himself to feel. And if anyone found him, well, then he'd just be Aedion the Weepy Drunk, and not Aedion the Bitch. It's how he worked through the grief of many of the loved ones he'd lost, not only when Terrsen fell but also to the constant war he'd been waging since he was eighteen.

Halfway into his cups, Aedion was getting mopey. He considered the thought of his children, not knowing he was his father. Just watching with longing as they called Rowan daddy, and sobbed. In that moment, he hated the man thoroughly.

It was of course, in this moment that Lysandra chose to barge into his quarters.

"Lysandra? What are you doing here?" He asks, confused.

"I came to check up on you," she says hesitantly.

"No really, why are you here?" he repeats more forcefully. He's put his cup down to glare at her for intruding.

"I wanted to make sure we were alright. I want us to be friends. We're going to be one of the only people who know about this deception", she explains, fiddling with her hands nervously.

"I don't understand, I have not been anything less than friendly to you"

"Don't play dumb, Aedion, it doesn't suit you", Lysandra bites. Aedion doesn't say anything, because she's right. He hasn't been hostile to Lysandra. He's spoken to her about work, and a few other cursory topics one can speak about to acquaintances, but the easy intimacy that existed between them before is gone.

"I swear to you Aedion, I enjoyed your company. If you believe nothing else, know that wasn't a lie", Lysandra is almost pleading with him now, but that can't be right, because Aedion can't imagine Lysandra begging for anything, especially for such a paltry prize as his friendship. Still, as foolish as it may be, he believes her. If only because there'd be no need for her to trick him like that in order to get the children she needed. Lysandra was much like Aelin in that regard. If she needed a baby from him, she would get one, no matter how he felt about it.

"Even if I believe you, I can't be your friend."

"Why ever not?" she asks defiantly, jutting her chin at him.

He confesses looking at his cup, "I want to be a father Lysandra. I want my children to know I love them, I want to spend time with them and love them and make their fears go away. I want to teach my sons and daughters courage and take them through the rituals of childhood. I want a comfortable house that rings with their laughter, and I want to be happy and kiss my wife in the morning when we wakeup and boast to my friends about my family until they're sick and tired about hearing about it."

He doesn't know what possesses him to confess this to her. Maybe there's a part of him that still considers her friend, buried beneath all the hurt.

"Oh Aedion" she sighs, and reaches out with a hand to pat his head. He should be angry. He should slap her hand away. Instead he's sad and unhappy, and he turns his head away from her touch and takes a sip from his cup. Lysandra gets the message and pulls back her hand.

"Maybe it's for the best. Maybe this is my punishment for my sins. I don't think I'd even know what to do myself if I was happy."

"I'm sorry things have to be this way."

He realizes then, that maybe he isn't so incapable of being friends with her. His yearning is too sharp now, but well, they were good to each other once. He can imagine once again sharing his grief with her.

"I think, right now, I can't look at you and not see the woman denying me what I want most. I know it's unfair, but I don't think I can carry out this plan and still be friends with you. But maybe once the war is over, and assuming we've won, after I've settled into the new normal and the grief isn't so sharp, maybe then."

"You're speaking as if you don't expect Aelin to come back." Lysandra observes.

"It would be a miracle, which means Aelin is perfectly poised to do so"

"I sense a but in there somewhere"

He sighs and slumps back in his chair, "I am too jaded and cynical to believe in miracles, Lysandra."

Lysandra sits down on a chair next to him and says quietly, her fingers on his back, providing warmth, "She's coming back. You have to believe that".

"But what if she doesn't?"

Lysandra hesitates for a moment before saying, "Even if she doesn't, it doesn't mean a family is denied to you. You can still get married and have other children."

It is possibly the absolute worst thing she could've said. For a good moment, Aedion feels like his jaw is broken as he struggles to make his mouth work.

Normally he would be angry, yelling at her to get out, making the whole ship hear his wrath. Any other time he would. Not now, when he is feeling so raw, wallowing in his grief, with a considerable amount of spirits in his system. He feels crushed. There's a burning sensation in his eyes as tears threaten to form. He refuses to let them. Not in front of Lysandra.

"I can't just have more children to make up for the ones I will never get a chance to know. You know it doesn't work like that."

Lysandra would tear apart anyone who tried to take Evangeline from her, Aelin included. She has to know it doesn't work like that. Unless she thought he was like his dad, who got his mom pregnant and then abandoned her, presumably to go back to a life and family somewhere else.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"For someone who doesn't mean to hurt me, you're awfully good at it" he spits back at her, and feels a hollow satisfaction when she flinches.

Before she can say anything back, he begs her, "Please just go, Lysandra."

She looks at him, and he wishes he was less vulnerable in front of her. That he could hide much his soul was bleeding. She leaves without saying anything more, and after the door closes behind her, he starts crying.

He continues drinking for the rest of the night, unable to cause the image of children with blonde hair and emerald green eyes to disappear from his head.