Something I made up in my free time. Really enjoyed writing this scene. Feels nice to turn the tables.

Dorian sighed through his nose as he took up a spot beside his father in the council room. He sat on the plush chair in an undignified sprawl. A slight glance in the corner of eye confirmed- and it give him no small pleasure to see- that his father was indeed scowling at his unseemly posture. "This better be important," he said idly plucking at the edges of his blue cloak. His gaze swept over the room with one practiced move. The men were already shifting in their seats with rustles of soft anticipation.

What had he and the other council members been summoned for? Dorian stifled a yawn and crossed his legs. This meeting was undeniably important. He unconcealed his blatant curiosity with a bored smirk. Years at court has taught him to never under any circumstance reveal his true emotions. The men around him were wolves, ready to pounce, devour at a moment's notice. Dorian flicked his gaze to his nails. What kind of meeting was so crucial that they would all be called upon in the middle of the night? Ridiculous.

Dorian forced his still sluggish mind awake. It wouldn't do for him to miss any material of significance. His blue eyes caught on an unfamiliar man in the corner. A courier. The man was filthy from days of hard riding and it most definitely showed. He was trembling with cold, the poor man. Did he not bother to take a hot bath before reporting to the king? Perhaps the information he carried was of the utmost gravity. That would certainly explain the unforeseen assemblage.

The king of Adarlan raised a hand to call the meeting into session. He beckoned with an imperious hand and the shaking courier came forward. Dorian's eyes narrowed on the man's fearful expression. For once the terror did not seem to be directed at the man to Dorian's right.

Interesting.

"This meeting was held without notification to discuss the safety of my kingdom and empire," the king began, his low rumbling voice carrying easily though the hall. "This safety is being threatened by another rebel uprising, led by another insurgent who has the idea that taking on Adarlan will be an easy endeavour. He will be proven wrong," the king hissed, "And he will be punished accordingly." Dorian sighed and folded his arms.

"This was what I was woken up for? You can easily fix that with your army, father. No rebels have gotten past our defences previously." The others glared at his imprudence. Father merely tapped his scarred fingers on the polished wood table.

"This is not a joke, prince," he growled in warning, through gritted teeth. "Listen to what this man has to say about the anarchist movement. This traitor will not be tolerated. I want him found and brought back to me." The council members shifted and murmured. This rebel will not be treated well for leading an uprising against the king of Adarlan. He will undergo a death sentence as a traitor to the crown. The messenger paled into a sickly pasty shade that reminded Dorian of raw dough.

"Impossible," the man whispered, almost to himself, but not quietly enough. The king rose suddenly.

"What did you say?" the king barked. The messenger flinched as if awaiting a blow.

"Nothing of importance, your majesty," he stammered, the whites of his eyes showing. Sweat trailed down his face, dotting on his brow and soaking his already wet shirt. The king of Adarlan stood and said in a deceptively soft voice.

"I don't, ever, like to be lied to courier," he crooned, an razor-sharp edge barely concealed beneath his low baritone. "There are many ways to get you to talk. Do you actually want to protect the rebel?" His father laughed, the sound grating against Dorian's nerves and running a chill throughout his body. And he thought it was terrifying when his father and Celaena had smiled at each other. This was much worse. "Don't you have a wife? A pretty, young thing, isn't she. A little girl, only three years of age." The messenger started to tremble, lightly at first, then harder and harder.

"Don't hurt them," he whispered. "Please, I'll do anything." The king leaned back in his glass throne, smiling. Smiling! Dorian ground his teeth together, a muscle feathering along his jaw.

"Anything?" the king drawled, staring at the courier from under heavy lids. "Really?" The man licked his lips nervously.

"You want information on the leader of the organization. I'll give you information. Just don't hurt my family. I beg of you." The king arched a brow.

"You beg of me, do you?" he looked so bored."How delightfully consistent. It's all you people ever do. I cannot even address you as an actual person anymore. How would you like to be called a slug?"

The man bowed his head. "As you like, your majesty. I am yours." The king nodded.

"Would you like to elaborate on the uprising now?" The courier wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. His consented enthusiastically.

"What I meant before when I said that it was impossible to bring back a man, was because the commander is a girl, you majesty." He wrung his hands together and continued when the king did not reply. "She is very well guarded. One of the most complex assortment of bodyguards I have ever seen." The man shook his head in awe. "Her people come from all over Erilea and she has the most powerful of allies. Not as impressive as Adarlan of course," the messenger added quickly as to not fuel the king's already blazing anger. "But her supporters will not take well to the capture of their queen and general."

"Her soldiers are following the lead of a girl?" the king sounded incredulous and more than a bit sceptical. Dorian understood his father's confusion. No man right in the head would follow the lead of a girl into battle. Woman have no experience in war. They were a liability. Woman were too soft, too emotional.

"The girl is incredible, your majesty. She cuts down men as if they little more than kindling. Welds a sword, or any weapon, really, as if she was born with it. She could overpower any man in a fistfight within seconds." The courier sounded truly impressed. Dorian glanced at his father. What would his father think of this rebel? But the king merely waved a hand at the messenger to continue, his gaze distant.

"Go on, I am... curious to know more of this girl and her so called revolution. What of her allies? Are they loyal?"

"Her supporters will fight for their queen general and keep her secrets on pain of death, your majesty. I have never seen such devotion and dedication to a sovereign since..." he trailed off. There was a short silence.

"Finish you sentence, courier," the king growled. "Since what?" The man gnawed on his lip.

"Since the times of King Orlon and his court, Your majesty. Her people absolutely adore her. Their goal is to overthrow the Empire. It's quite interesting actually. They only want the countries you have conquered. Terrasen, Fenharrow, Melisande, and Eyllwe. Not Adarlan itself. And she claims that after she has taken back all the countries that had been lost, she will give the countries back to their rightful rulers." The king snorted, and fought back a smirk.

"Are these the lies she has been feeding to her subjects? Give the countries back to their rightful rulers?" The courier merely lowered his head. "How about the girl? The queen? How could I have never heard of her?"

The man blinked. "You do know her. But she was supposedly dead for ten years, until she came to Wendlyn and the king recognized her as his niece." All the councilmen stared at him blankly and the courier ran a hand down his cropped hair. "The king of Wendlyn's niece," he said slowly. "Princess Evalin's daughter. The heir to Terrasen. Aelin Galathynius." Dorian's felt as if he was choking.

"She's dead. Aelin has been dead for ten years," he breathed. His father had a murderous expression on his face. The courier shifted uncomfortably as the tension in the room built up. "How, exactly can the king of Wendlyn prove that she is really his niece?" Dorian crossed his arms defiantly, hoping that his question would keep his father from exploding on them all.

"She has the Ashryver eyes," the courier said as if it had to be obvious. Dorian cocked a brow and tilted his head at the king. But his father ignored him. Not surprising. His eyes were locked on the courier.

"Tell me more about her." It was a command. The poor man bit his lip and wrung his hands until they were red. Sweat dripped from his brow in torrents. But, still, he kept silent. "Speak!" the king bellowed. "Or would a trip to the gallows suit you better?" The man shook his head violently. The words poured from his mouth, an unending stream of syllables.

"As I said, the girl's name is Aelin Galathynius," he babbled. "She claims to be the true queen of Terrasen, your majesty. Many even go far enough to address her as the Queen of Erilea. The one who will free the world from the chains of Adarlan and unite the countries in prosperity and peace. People say that this title suits her even better since she stakes a claim to practically every kingdom in the world. Terrasen, obviously, her homeland. She also leads the rebels from that country. Aelin has allies from as far away as the Western Wastes. Her long-time friend, Ansel Briarcliff, is the queen of the Western Wastes and will lend her a hand in the upcoming battle. She is closely acquainted with the, Sessiz Suikast, the Silent Assassins of the Red Desert and the Mute Master. Some are even acting as her escorts and protectors." The courier swallowed, hard. "It will be troublesome to get through their defenses."

The king frowned. "How did she convince the assassin's to aid her cause? Don't the Sessiz Suikast usually kept to themselves?" The man nodded.

"Usually. But this is a special circumstance. Aelin is one of theirs. She had trained and worked with the assassins in the past. It is even rumored that she saved the lives of the Mute Master and his beloved son a few years ago. Aelin is regarded as a legend among many of them."

His father tapped the oak council table in irritation. "The girl is proving to be quite problematic. This must be the largest revolt in years. This, Aelin, has allies in countries not within Adarlan's borders."

"That's not even the worst of it. Her reach extends far further than only this continent. Aelin's uncle, the King of Wendlyn has agreed to give his niece the extensive Wendlyn army and navy for the war. Maeve, the Fae queen, and Aelin's great grandaunt will be supporting her in combat. It is said that the Fae there still practice magic." The courier shivered. "Aelin still has magic, one of the most powerful mages in her generation. Her retribution will be swift and without mercy. For the country that slaughtered her family and enslaved her nation. " He paused for breath.

"She is the hope and light for people everywhere, particularly the slaves. Aelin has rescued and liberated many of them and created and safe haven for them in Skull's Bay. She has strong ties to the rebels in the Adarlan empire, not just Terrasen, Eyllwe and Adarlan, but also Fenharrow and Melisande. Just as her great grandmother was renamed a goddess, so is she. Elentiya. The goddess of vengeance, justice and mercy." The courier tried to hide a smile.

Dorian raised an eyebrow in question. "What, may I ask, is so amusing?" The man cast a hasty glance at the king and faced forward again, realizing his blunder.

"It is merely ironic, your highness," he said hesitantly. The king spread his arms.

"Do tell. I am curiously to see why you find this situation even remotely entertaining. How is this ironic?" The messenger blinked, staring at the king surprised. His gaze drifted to Dorian, then the other council members.

"You truly are ignorant of Aelin's deception?" He looked at them disbelief clear in his rugged features.

"Deception?" Dorian demanded. The courier's eyes flicked back to him and he squeezed his lips together, forming a thin white line. His eyes narrowed.

"She fooled you all," the courier said in amazement. "Aelin is not the only name of the princess. After her parents death, she fortunately escaped death's grasp and got taken in by a group of assassins." The messenger squinted at them. "Are you sure you are not aware of this?" At the glares of the councilmen, the courier went on. "Aelin changed her name and trained with the assassins until her capture at seventeen. She got sent to Endovier. " Dorian suddenly couldn't breathe. If Aelin was who he thought she was then...then...

"What was Aelin's name as an assassin?" he questioned, the words clogging in his throat. If his father found out that he had been duped... by an assassin no less. Wyrd save us all. Beside Dorian, the king had taken on a murderous expression.

"Would I have heard of this assassin?" he asked through gritted teeth. Dorian could practically see the steam coming out from his father's ears. His anger simmered, boiled, and overflowed. The king slammed a hand on the council table. Delicate china teacups rattled and tea sloshed out staining papers. "What is the assassin's name! Answer me!" The courier cowered and held up a pleading hand, backing away.

"Celaena," the messenger whispered. "Aelin's assassin name was Celaena. Celaena Sardothien. The greatest assassin in all of Erilea." Dorian's world flipped over. He wasn't that surprised. In fact, he had guessed as soon as the courier said Endovier. But thinking it and hearing it were two vastly different things. Celaena. Celaena was Aelin Galathynius. The rightful queen of Terrasen.

"Oh gods," he moaned.

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