Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“That better not be disrespect for your elders, Ashryver!”

Aedion spun around at the harsh sound of a walking staff hitting the stone. He grins at the older male leaning against a hawthorne staff at the top of the courtyard steps.

“Of course not Elgan.” He replied smoothly, ignoring how the fighting around him stops as the Cadre pauses to observe their visitor. “I was merely reminding Rowan–”

“Whitethorn, eh.” Even from a distance he could recognise Elgan’s signature smirk and raised brows. “Disrespecting the monarchy then.”

“Always.” 

Elgan laughs and Aedion tries not to linger on the way it's an older croaky sound. Ignoring the eyes of the fae males upon him, Aedion quickly drops his training sword by the side, jogging across the courtyard they had turned into a training field to reach Elgan.

“How have you been, boy?” Elgan’s beaming as he asks the question, legs shaking as he drops his staff in favour of gripping Aedion into a tight hug. He’d always been an affectionate male, one of the few who reminded Aedion that caring for people wasn’t a weakness. 

“Good, good.”

“You sure,” Elgan worried as Aedion sank into his embrace, allowing the tension to leak from his body as he curled into the closest thing he had to a grandfather’s arms. “Because you’re hugging me like you’re a 13 year old boy after his first battle again?”

“Fuck off.” He croaks.

“Language, Ashryver, I should wash your mouth out with soap.”

A sharp cough behind them had Aedion pulling back, remembering he had an audience now.

“You always got lucky that soap was hard to find in ration packs.” Elgan jabs one finger at him, playfully narrowing his eyes. “Otherwise you might know some manners by now.”

“I doubt that.”

Elgan’s eyes immediately narrow upon the king. For all his complaints of Aedion disrespecting royalty the former Bane Commander makes no attempt at bowing or even inclining his head in respect. 

Aedion learnt his defiance from somewhere after all.

Rowan, for his part, remains unfazed by Elgan’s lack of respect. All the fae does is present the Commander with the staff he let fall to the ground in his haste of reaching Aedion. The king quietly offers Elgan the walking stick and Aedion finally registers the weight leaning against his side, the soft tremble in Elgan’s hand as he grips Aedion’s arm to keep himself upright. 

Time hadn’t been kind to the man.

Elgan sucks on the back of his tooth, to a human the action made no noise but for the fae it was like a judging tsk-tsk sound. Aedion quickly accepts the staff on Elgan’s behalf, hoping to avoid any conflict as the commander continues to stare the king down. 

“This is the famed hawk?” 

“He’s also the king and mate–”

“The one who stole your blood oath.”

Aedion mutters a quiet ‘fucks sake’ as Rowan brows raise in surprise.

“I see you’ve copied Quinn and taken over this courtyard for training.” Elgan commented, ignoring the king entirely as he looked around the enclosed place, the centre had no roof but the surrounding hallways were covered to create a protected watch point. “He’d be having a fit at The Great Cadre training here.”

A deep sadness echoes through his mind, the memories of Quinn telling him story after story about the Cadre as they trained.

“They were his favourite.”

“I don’t think there was a story he didn’t know.” 

The former cadre members stared back at them silently. None of them looked uncomfortable, Fenrys still remained in his wolf form, perched at Vaughan’s side as the Osprey silently organised their sword rack. Gavriel and Lorcan had no care for pretending to be busy and remained standing in place from where they had stopped mid fight to observe the new guest.

He could feel Rowan’s gaze boring into the side of his head. The male was kind enough not to say anything against Elgan when it was clear Aedion respected the man greatly but he could see that the king was getting a little put off by the lack of respect.

“Shall I introduce you?”

“I might be old but I still have a good memory.” Elgan stamped his staff on the floor, punctuating his statement and Aedion could already see that the man was embracing his new staff. He always did have a flare for the dramatics. 

“Well they don’t know your name.”

Wrong thing to say.

Immediate regrets.

Aedion cringes back as Elgan slowly turns towards him.

“Really?”
“I–”
“Really, Aedion?”

“Well it just felt a little strange one Gavriel–”

“I raised you!” Elgan cried in outrage and Aedion could feel Gavriel shock from across the courtyard. “Looked after you during the war, kept you fed, kept a roof over your head–”

“I know, I know.”

“-let my wife coddle you–”

“And you know how grateful–”

“-my other children call you brother!”

“Lots of people call me brother!”

Elgan snarls in a way that could rival any fae as he stamps that staff like a toddler stomping their feet. Aedion goes to apologise, to explain himself but the Commander suddenly goes completely still.

“What do you mean because of Gavriel?”

Aedion froze, suddenly realising that he hadn’t told the commander about his… father.

“Why don’t we go talk inside.” Rowan cut in smoothly only for Elgan to cut him a harsh glare that had Aedion cowering when he was a child. The king had the good grace to only wince once Elgan had turned back to Aedion.

“Why does the Lion change things?”

Gavriel clears his throat but both Elgan and Aedion ignore him as they stare each other down. The Lion cautiously walks closer and Aedion can feel the atmosphere change into something dangerous, it's an effort not to react when he feels the tug on the blood oath as one of the Cadre sends out a summons.

“Aedion.” Elgans warns, voice dangerously low.

“I take it you didn’t know?” Aedion hates the way his throat grows tighter, his voice desperate as Elgan stares back at him. 

“Didn’t know what?”

“That Gavriel is my father.”

“Did I–” Elgan huffs, nostrils flaring. “Did I fucking know? Are you serious boy!”

Aedion flinches and Rowan immediately steps closer

“No, of course I didn't know!”
“I just thought–”
“All the years I spent raising–”
“You had so many stories–”
“Awful and rude tales about the Lion!”
“I thought you were upset he had left me!”
“I wouldn’t have been that disrespectful!”

“Gentlemen!” They freeze at the queen’s command, both of them turning in place to stare at where Aelin Ashryver Galathynius glares down at them from the doorway. “Why don’t we take this inside and have a civil discussion.”

– – –

“The damn pup fell straight into the lake!”

Laughter roared across the table as Aedion could only stare in utter horror as Elgan told his family every single embarrassing thing he had ever done.

“What did you think was going to happen?” Fenrys demanded through the tears streaming down his face. “Who the hell–”

Aedion snarls, and if that doesn't just make them all laugh louder.

Three minutes. It had taken all of three minutes for them to sit down in the private lounge before Aelin had managed to get Elgan sharing stories of Aedion’s childhood. Then the queen had food brought in, and then drinks, and then summoned Lysandra and Elide from what he would argue were important meetings.

“How did you manage to get into so much trouble?”

Aedion flushed at Lorcan’s bewildered question, even the usually stoic male had cracked a laugh or two at Aedion’s expense.

“Oh Aedion has always been like a bloodhound in search of trouble,” Elgan answered grinning, “Has he told you about the time he ‘accidentally’ kidnapped a baby Aelin?”

“You did what?!”

– – –

From the way the fire was already lit and the glasses of whiskey poured it was safe to say that Gavriel had already expected him to appear at some point tonight. Aedion sank down into what had been dubbed his armchair with a grateful sigh. As much as he loved Elgan the man could be overwhelming once he got a crowd going.

“Elgan was the one who kept me alive during the first battle at Theralis.”

He could hear Gavriel’s heart stutter a beat, speeding up as panic clouds his scent before shifting back into something more controlled. That reaction had confused him at first, especially when it happened often but Aedion soon realised it was Gavriel’s own grief at what Aedion had to endure rising to the surface.

“He was a member of Quinn’s royal guard,” It still hurts all these years later to think of Quinn. “Elgan was one of the guards who accompanied Quinn and I t-to see Evalin and Rhoe, we were supposed to bring Aelin back to Terrasen.”

“He seems to care for you greatly.”

“Some of it is warped,” Aedion confessed, sharing an amused glance with Gavriel. He knew that the lion had picked up on a couple of discrepancies in Elgan’s stories. “Nothing more than an old man trying to reflect kindly on his life.”

“How do you remember him?”

“Elgan was the only person who hugged me. Once the war sorted there was no place for affection or weakness. I did everything I could to survive, including distancing myself from everyone around me. Elgan…” He sucked on the back of his tooth in thought. “He was the one who looked after me, who held me while I cried after that first battle, he’d bring me food even when I was just wasting it from throwing up with nerves.”

“The armour they had… it was too big for me,” He shakes his head, laughing darkly at it all. “There were so many of us who had to go without armour because we just weren’t old enough for it. Elgan did his best to keep me kitted out, he got creative using shin guards as arm guards instead, tying as many straps as he could so the armour wouldn’t slip off.”

“He would sit around the campfires where the children were, helping us all sharpen our blades and clean our armour.” He smiles sadly at the memory, remembering the warmth of the fire heating his skin and drying the blood and mud into his clothes. Those moments were the happiest points for him during the war, they were so peaceful then. “There were a couple of soldiers who still had it in them to look out for us, they’d bring us rations, help us put up our tents, bring over new weapons.”

“They continued to train us the best they could, offering advice and sitting by our sides when the nightmares got too loud. Elgan was the closest thing I had to a grandfather at that time,” He smiles, remembering how the man was old even then, yet still fought his damn hardest. “Quinn used to be the storyteller but Elgan soon took over, the kids just gravitated to him and he was happy to have more grandchildren to take under his wing.”

There were so many orphans at that time. Then all of a sudden there were so few, each one dying in the war or being lost to Adarlan’s culls.

“He took on an advisory position in the Bane, as one of my Commanders,” Aedion remembers the argument he had with the man, pushing for him to retire from active combat. “He hated backing down from the real fighting but I had children signing up to the Bane and if I didn’t take them in the Adarlan would, and I wasn’t about to send a bunch of 13 year olds into war.”

“Elgan looked after them for me. Set up a base camp in the Fanghorn mountains for them.”

“That’s why you’re on such good terms with Northmen.” Gavriel comments, finally connecting the dots as to why Aedion had signed off on giving the Northmen more territory. “You made a deal with them during a war.”

“It wasn’t exactly a deal since we had nothing to offer them,” Aedion drawled, remembering how they had been at the mercy of the Northmen for a good while. “But they could see that Adarlan was growing too strong and cruel, they didn’t want to risk joining the fight or rebellion but they were willing to care for the children.”

And train them to fight. 

The Bane soldiers would spend three years with the Northmen; the first year training, the second year working the land, and the third year going out on raids and practice missions. 

It was part of the reason the Bane was so famous for its brutal soldiers. They had been raised and trained in the harshest of weather conditions up in the mountains, isolated from all outside influence and their families. Sometimes he regrets it, the trauma it must have given his men, other times he believes it was the only way to keep his men strong enough to survive.

“He makes himself sound more fatherly than that.”

“He… lost all of his children,” Aedion confesses, remembering how the man had howled with grief when he discovered the news. “Then he lost all those orphans who cared for in Theralis, there was only Ren, Ava, myself and maybe five others who survived. Adarlan made a point of rounding up the children and executing them publicly. It was supposed to deter the younger generation from keeping up the fight.”

“Elgan and another guard, Avril, smuggled us out once the culls started.” Gods that was a bad night, one full of death and fire. “He had to choose who to take and who to leave behind, there was no way to save us all.”

Gavriel’s expression flickered with a sad understanding, “He’s a strong man.”

“It nearly broke him.”

“Did you see him often?”

“Not particularly,” Aedion shrugged, “His wife ran an Inn near the border so we stayed there often, she was a lovely woman, always kept the attic open for the rebels. She and Elgan weren’t on speaking terms after the death of their children, she blamed him for it, said they followed in his footsteps. They did but both of them knew there was nothing they could have done to stop them from signing up to fight.”

“Would you have signed up?”

“I was never given the option.” Aedion pointed out.

“No, but if you were,” Gavriel frowned, no doubt thinking about how few choice Aedion was given in his life. “If you weren’t already in the army would you have signed up or gone straight to the rebels?”

Aedion didn’t know what he would have done.

It never boded well to think of what ifs but…

“I was given the option once, to back out of the fight,” Aedion confesses, “Just once. It was the only choice I ever had, but all my friends were dead and my country was burning, and I was so fucking angry.”

“You had every right to be.”

“So I stayed with my men and I never looked back. For a while I didn’t see anyone I knew from before, I was back to being a grunt soldier while I worked my way up the ranks. The people I knew were already high ranking and had either turned and joined Adarlan or were doing their best to play the game and keep Terrasen alive.”

“It must have been lonely.”

“Yeah,” Aedion agrees easily, not bothering to hide how exhausting that point in his life was. “It makes me understand why Elgan talks the way he does.”

Gavriel tilted his head in question.

“He focuses on the good stuff, on life before the war and the little moments during it. He remembers us as a close pair despite the fact we didn’t see each other for years.”

“Is it wrong that I care for him so much,” Aedion asks suddenly, “we knew each other for only a couple of years but… I didn’t see him for over a decade once he went to the Fangs but when he came back he never judged me.”

For the things he had done. For who had become.

“I think we always care for the people who raised us,” Gavriel answers, a soft sadness filling his expression as he smiles at Aedion,  “No matter who they are or how old we get. You’ll always remember the impact they had on your life.” 

“It just feels so ridiculous when I have you here.”

Gavriel pauses, taking a moment to order his thoughts.

“Aedion, it’s clear to me that Elgan was your sole carer for a time, that it was his actions and love that kept you alive. Personally, I’m grateful for that,” Gavriel smiles at Aedion’s surprised expression. “He kept my son alive, not just alive, but cared for. I will always be grateful for that.”

“You don’t…” Aedion hesitates, “I worried you might be upset or jealous.”

“Part of me will always hate that I couldn’t look after you. Knowing that all of this could have been avoided for you had I known you were alive,” Gavriel shook his head, shaking off the thought. “But I also wouldn’t change a thing. Everything you have and done and sacrificed helped to save this country, without you and The Bane and the rebels we wouldn’t have won this war.”

Aedion smiled sadly, grateful for his fathers words. He had often wondered if the things he had done were worth it. Yet another ‘what if’ that had started plaguing him. 

“Do you like Elgan?” He asks suddenly, wanting to know the answer. “I know he can be a little self centred.”

“Men of his age tend to be,” Gavriel jokes, referring to how Elgan had taken control of the dinner to regale the group with countless stories, thankfully they were fairly interesting and mostly Aedion based so it wasn’t too bad. “But yes, I quite like him.”

“Good.” 

Aedion smiles, pleased that his father approves.

“I’m not sure he approves of Rowan though.”

“That’s only because of the blood oath.”

Gavriel rolls his eyes, “You did tell him that you’re one of Aelin’s bloodsworn, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t sound so offended, cub, you forget to tell him I’m your father.”

“Well after your little announcement letter and speech , I just assumed everyone knew.”

“Don’t judge me for being a proud father.”

“You were crowing from the rooftops!”

“You agreed to be formally accepted as my son! I was excited.”

A/N: Let me know if there's anything you would like to see in relation to Aedion, The Cadre and The Bane. 

Chapter Text

The pyres were so bright.

Yet Aedion had never seen them look so dark and low, with a black smog hanging overhead, building in the sky as it steadily blocked out the stars. One by one more torches lit up, after them the bonfires and–

He choked on the stench.

Retching as it scorched the back of his throat.

– – –

Gavriel casually eyed his son’s strong stance as Aedion observed the guard training going on below. Positioned on the outer ring of the courtyard they had an elevated view of the young men sparring before them. The Queen’s Guard had been replenished quickly, the ranks being filled by former soldiers, but many of them had retired into the job, taking a step away from the pressures of war and in some ways…

Well Gavriel wasn’t sure how to politely say it aloud but some of them were too patriotic and others didn’t value their monarch enough. No one wanted to admit that though.

So they had begun the process of training a new batch of guards, cherry picking them from sign up lists and rebel groups. Aedion had called for the new batch of Bane soldiers that had been training in the Fang Mountains under the command of the Northmen and Aedion’s own former commanders.

None of that had his full attention today. 

Not when his son was… off.

If it weren’t for how often Gavriel found himself watching Aedion he wouldn’t have seen any difference. Easily believing Aedion’s casual smiles and perfect act. Yet he did know better. Fatherhood was still a fairly new concept to the Lion, at least in comparison to his centuries of existence, but he was doing his best with it. 

Watching his son, his boy, was something that had just started happening.

He couldn’t help it.

An odd mix of pride, fear, love and concern all wrap into one. Every time he caught his cub’s scent on the wind Gavriel’s head was instinctively turning, eyes searching for his boy in crowds. 

Maybe it was intrinsic to being fae but Gavriel wouldn’t be surprised if that was just parenthood.

Children were so rare for fae, so precious and coveted, that their instincts had developed to revolve around them. The scent of his blood, his family, will always be easily distinguishable to him. Doting on Aedion, practically preening him, was there as well. Gavriel found himself eager to bring food home for his boy, anything from making fancy meals, to finding his favourite pastry in town, to making sure he cleared his plate and ate enough vegetables.

Even his brothers, his cadre, had started behaving differently around Aedion.

It was natural for them, even if the others didn’t understand it at first. 

They would have been his uncles, coming home with fun stories and presents from their travels. In truth, they would have been the few people Gavriel would have trusted around his cub, perhaps the only people after everything he had seen in the world. 

Sometimes he would picture what it would have been like, had he known of Aedion’s existence from the start. A fanciful dream that was not only unrealistic but did him no good to think on. Yet he did. 

Fenrys would have been the one to rile Aedion up. The White Wolf would have relished the distance from Maeve, drowning himself in the normality of it all. He would have been the only one willing to roll on the grass and play in the dirt with his little cub. The others would have waited till he was older.

Now there would be none of that.

But it was still there in some ways.

Rowan was still around his boy. Not as an uncle but as a brother, an older brother, one willing to indulge his sibling’s curiosity and antics, looking out for them as much as being dragged into their messes.

Gavriel wondered if the king would be able to see the shadows in Aedion’s eyes like he could. Maybe the queen would stand a better chance at it, recognising the tightness in Aedion’s shoulder, the tension lining his body.

There was no reason for such stress that Gavriel was aware of.

Lysandra was in Caraverre with Evangeline and Darrow for a couple of weeks, making arrangements for their new home. She had only been gone a few days but Aedion had been open about missing them, not bothering to hide his love for his girls. 

Perhaps it was the Bane soldiers coming to join them.

Gavriel found himself walking silently to Aedion’s side as training finished for the day. Barely acknowledging the soldiers as he passed them, forcing himself to politely nod at those with good rankings out of respect. They weren’t his concern.

His son was carefully going through the training weapons, no doubt checking for any dents or blemishes.

Neither of them acknowledged the other, Aedion kept his head down over the table while Gavriel perched on the edge, staring out at the last few soldiers leaving the courtyard. A single glance to the guards at the doors had them stepping back inside the castle, closing the doors behind them.

Aedion sighed. Loudly.

“Must we?”

“If you think there’s something to talk about, then yes.” Gavriel keeps his voice level, knowing that Aedion doesn’t handle raised voices well. “But that is always up to you.”

“Why do you always want to talk about things?”

He hates how tired and defeated his son sounds and for a second he hesitates, wondering if he’s pushing too far but–

He shrugs, “If you don’t want to talk I will never force you to do so,” Gavriel looks at his son, noting how his shoulders have curved in. “But I also think it helps when you do, whether that's with me or someone else. I don’t want to see you bottling your emotions up until they burst.”

Silence reigns over the courtyard.

The lion waits quietly, head tilted back to appreciate the rare glimmer of sunshine in Terrasen’s Autumn.

“I-” Aedion curses, groaning. “Every time. Everytime you appear it’s like–” Another frustrated noise. “How did you even know?”

It was an effort to limit his grin.

“I just knew. It’s a parent thing.”

“Well I still don’t know what to say.”

“Feeling low?” Gavriel queried, worried it was one of those dark moments that just came over people with no solid feeling. Aedion had suffered from them a couple times in the past two years since the war, days where he would go nonverbal or wouldn’t leave his room. Sometimes he just walked around like a ghost.

“I– No,” Aedion shook his head, “It’s the Bane soldiers.”

“Your former commanders?”

“I haven’t seen them since… well, in years.” Aedion took a shaky breath, “So much has changed in that time.”

“They’re not expecting you to be the same.” Gavriel pointed out quietly, “Certainly not after you went through another war.”

“I’m expecting them to be the same.”

Gavriel could only give his son a sad look, one that had Aedion nodding in agreement.

“Aelin will be tied up in meetings all day,” Gavriel didn’t need to ask if that upset Aedion, the cousins were inseparable in times of need. “So Rowan will be joining me with the commanders.”

“A marked down grade.” Gavriel jested, earning a small smile from his boy. He paused, questioning whether he should ask– “Would you prefer Aelin.”

“I’m not sure.”

“She would make the time for you.”

“I know.”

“Rowan would also be willing to listen if you needed him.”

“I know.”

Aedion turns in place, mirroring his father as he leans back against the table of weapons and stares up at the sky.

“There will be a private dinner for myself and some of the commanders, Kyllian will be there too, but I–” Aedion cuts himself off, clearing his throat as he looks down. “I’m not– I’m not ready to introduce you as…” Aedion shoots him a quick glance before looking back down again. “Not to these commanders. It was almost a mark of honour among them, to work your way up from nothing as a bastard nobody. Having you as my acknowledged father…”

“Would be a point of disloyalty and shame.” Gavriel finished, expression flickering. “I know the type.”

Aedion nods, “But I’d like for you to be there, casually, perhaps as a cadre member with some of the others. Rowan couldn’t come along as king but…”

“You know full well that Fenrys would be delighted,” Gavriel finished the thought, forcing a smile even as he hated how his vibrant son suddenly stumbled over his words, struggling to finish sentences. “And where the Wolf goes, Vaughan will follow.”

His son nods gratefully.

“They arrive tomorrow morning and we’ll be tied up in meetings for the most parts, but you might meet them at lunch?” Aedion phrases it as a question, looking to Gavriel for confirmation on his plans for tomorrow. “The commanders will eat with their men at midday but dinner will be private.”

“Shall I do the inviting?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Aedion winces, “I don’t fancy having that conversation with Fenrys.”

– – –

Gavriel ignored Fenrys and Vaughan’s shared look at his expense. He was wildly aware that he was on edge and didn’t need reminding of it. Not when he was trying to look casual. An effort lost on how rigidly he was sitting at the lunch bench with the Wolf and Osprey opposite him.

“Is there a reason for your behaviour?” Lorcan drawled, “Last time you were this on edge we were cleaning your mess up for weeks.”

He ignored the former commander.

“Silent treatment,” Gavriel sighed at the sound of Rowan’s voice. “How original. Yet so similar to Aedion.”

“Speaking of…” Lorcan trailed off pointedly, raising his brows at Gavriel. “Where is the male of the hour?”

Gavriel glared at Lord Lochan, eyes narrowing at his humorous expression.

“Why are you both here?” He demanded, “Last I checked you both had places to rule.”

Rowan smirked, smug with himself, “I’m taking lunch off.”

Gavriel looked to Lorcan but the male just shrugged unapologetically.

“I’m just a trophy husband.”

“It’s not fun when you say it.” Fenrys huffed as Lorcan and Rowan loomed over the banquet table. “Why don’t you two fancy pants lords go back to the head table.”

“Jealous you were kicked off?”

“I chose to leave.”

Lorcan snorts. Fenrys shoots him a glare.

“Besides,” A shit eating grin spreads across the wolf’s face. “It’s no fun without your mate, Rowan.”

The king bares his teeth, “Well, we wouldn’t–”

The creaking sound at the end of the mess-hall catches their attention, those large, intricately carved oak wood doors swing open, quiet enough that a human would hardly notice but all five of the fae had been waiting for Aedion’s arrival. 

His cub who strode in, flanked by two older men in Bane uniform. The Commanders. Behind them was a crowd of young soldiers, each one turning to take in the great hall with awe. Some of them were able to control their reactions and Gavriel saw one of the older commanders seemingly taking note of who could still control themselves.

“-was originally the healer’s hall-” 

He focused on picking out his son’s voice in the crowd. Vaguely nodding to Lorcan and Rowan as the pair retreated to the head table, leaving him with the Wolf and Osprey who were steadfastly ignoring the Bane's entrance. 

“-mess hall was bigger so we traded them during the war–”

“-space– now that it’s–”

He hated crowds, they were shit for eavesdropping in.”

“-large events use the great hall but for private day to day we stick to this smaller–”

“And the queen dines here as well.”

“Along with the upper court–”

“That’s hardly proper.”

Oh it was going to be a long day.

Aedion had carefully hidden his relief at the sight of Gavriel but the Lion could easily see it from the way his eyes soften, the tension leaking from his shoulders. Their chatter fell silent as the commander caught sight of the three cadre members before them. Not that the silence reigned long as the gaggle of young men behind them quickly found their own seats at the long runner table.

“Commanders Avril and Marcus,” Aedion announces as he reaches Gavriel’s side, the Lion quickly rises to greet them. “May I present Lords Gavriel, Fenrys, and Vaughan.”

“An honour.” Both commanders dipped their heads, nothing more than slight incline and vague suggestion on lowering into a bow. Gavriel mirrored the action, forcing a welcoming smile onto his face.

Fenrys and Vaughan didn’t so much as stand.

Something which the commanders noted yet didn’t acknowledge.

“Shall we?” Aedion gestured to the benches, allowing his former commanders to sit first before taking a seat at Gavriel’s side. 

For minutes the only sounds between them were the clatter of cutlery as plates were quickly filled with food and glasses of wine poured. Gavriel, for once, couldn’t find his words. He was unsure what to say, not knowing what topics were acceptable and which weren’t. Not to mention that Aedion wasn’t ready for these commanders to know of their… relation to each other.

They most likely already knew but it was two different things to be illegitimate or acknowledged.

“You were Aedion’s former commanders, yes?” Fenrys’ smile is something expectant and condescending, a male used to getting his way. “He has not mentioned you much.”

“We trained the current batch of soldiers in the Bane.” Marcus agreed, glancing to Aedion an unreadable expression. “Myself and Avril were members of the army before Terrasen fell, we were both captains back then but the ranks soon shifted with the war.”

“War has always been good for promotions.” Fenrys drawlled, infinitely amused. 

“Yes,” Marcus arched a brow, unperturbed by the Wolf’s comments. “It certainly elevated Aedion up the ranks.”

Gavriel stiffened at the look in Marcus’ eyes, the shared look between him and the Commander Avril.

“We hadn’t expected the Queen to be so… generous, with her titles.” The man glanced disapprovingly at the cadre members before looking back to Aedion. “She prefers foreign lords?”

“She favours loyal ones.” Aedion counters smoothly, “They proved their worth and fealty during the war, many times.”

“They were sworn to Maeve.”

“A decision that proved to be regretful.” Gavriel cut in, dark gaze boring into Marcus’ head. “For many centuries there was no greater honour than to take the blood oath to Queen Maeve. We brought glory and respect to our families, and worked diligently for our people.”

“And these last two decades were what?” Marcus huffs, “A blip?”

Gavriel opens his mouth–

“War brings out the worst in us,” Aedion cuts in, looking at his commander knowingly. “And it can reveal truths most want hidden. Maeve was no exception to that.”

“And yet the queen who wanted to control her land suddenly has–”

“Maeve is dead.” They still at Fenrys’ bitter voice, and Gavriel’s chest tightens at the shadows lurking in the wolf’s eyes. “We serve Queen Aelin Galathynius now, happily so, your judgement is not needed.”

Marcus looks to Aedion, as if the General was going to reprimand the White Wolf of Terrasen. His son only arched a brow, leaning back slightly in relaxed fashion as he stare Marcus down. Gavriel couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Is this really how they’re running the court now?”

Aedion hummed in thought, “hmmm… yeah, yeah it is.”

“Orlon wouldn’t have stood for such disrespectful advisors.”

“Good thing he’s dead then.” Gavriel jolted at the darkness in Aedion’s voice. “Something you keep forgetting.”

“Do not speak so desire–”
“I shall speak as I damn well please.”

“Gentlemen.” Avril cuts in pointedly, the first words Gavriel had heard the man speak. “This is not the place.”

Indeed it wasn’t, not with the audience they were attracting. Gavriel didn’t dare look at the head table, knowing that Lorcan and Rowan had no doubt heard every word.

“I quite agree.” Aedion bites out. “We’ll see you both this evening.”

– – –

His son furiously paces the length of the small sitting room they had found themselves in. Gavriel vaguely registered that the room had been assigned to the trade ministers based on the various maps and ship paths pinned up over the walls. Hopefully they wouldn’t have any need for their communal meeting space for the next thirty minutes.

Though Gavriel suspected Aedion would need longer to calm down if his mutterings were anything to go by.

“Are you going to share what’s got you so riled up?” He takes a seat at the table, absently pushing aside reports that proved to be of little interest at a quick glance. They were all backdated to a decade ago, no doubt all at Adarlan’s orders. “Because arguably nothing horrific happened but you seem torn up about it.”

Aedion groans, scrubbing at his face.

“Or you could keep pacing.”

“Always with the conversations.”

“Are you saying they don’t help?” Gavriel drawls, knowing full well that Aedion had confessed to him a couple months ago that their conversations had helped lessen his nightmares. “Because I won’t push but I do think there’s something to talk about here.”

Aedion dramatically pulls out one of the chairs, scraping it across the ground in a way that Gavriel struggles to not reprimand the movement. 

“Sorry.” Aedion mutters, no doubt catching his father’s wince at the screeching noise of wood on stone floors. “Marcus has just… he always manages to get under my skin. Even when I was younger.”

“He seems rather stuck in the old ways.” Gavriel comments. “I’ve met a few fae like that over the years.”

“Surprisingly this is a better version of him,” Aedion laughs bitterly, “He used to be so much worse during Orlon’s reign.”

“I thought that would have been his hay day?”

“Gods no, Marcus was young then, yes, but he had conservative parents. They were a wealthy family but sent Marcus away to be fostered by another family.”

Gavriel had never understood that primarily upper-class human tradition. Sending one’s children away to foster with another family. Usually the third or fourth child, not the heir and his spare of course, but the others were raised elsewhere to help foster alliances. 

Gavriel could never imagine sending Aedion away. 

“Marcus was quite strict on what morals a man should have.”

“And he’s the one training the young soldiers.”

“We needed someone strong during the war.” Aedion sighed, leaning back in his chair as his fluttered shut as though he were hiding from the conversation. “It was regrettable but with the genocide, Adarlans rule and the war.” Aeidon shook his head. “The men were getting out of hand. Grief, starvation and a lawless land was leading to increased abuse, crime, brutalities… Marcus prevented that.”

Gavriel nodded, “I saw some reports from back then.”

“It was propaganda at first.” Aedion inhaled a sharp breath, straightening up a little as he looked to the side, at the wall of maps. “The people of Terrasen were barbaric creatures, and ‘look! Here are their crime rate statistics!’ never mind that they’re starving and desperate. Some said it was fae, blamed all the mutilations on animalistic creatures coming out at night.”

“Marcus stepped up. When we called for soldiers, or when we flat out rounded them up to keep them from Adarlan’s clutches, he was the one who stepped in and trained them. Crime went down, we had more soldiers, and some went on to join the Bane, not the private companies of the Terrasen Lords.”

“Besides, Elgan was always there to balance out anything too… severe.”

Gavriel wondered if Aedion was talking about himself as much as the new soldiers.

“What was he like when you were a boy?”

“A prick.” Aedion huffed. “I only knew of him in Orynth. He was some lords’ protegee with his own land to care for. We met properly during the war.”

“It was a damn miracle he behaved as well as he did just now,” Aedion huffed, rolling out his shoulders as he continued to fidget. “Marcus is not a fan of the fae, even when they were acceptable in Terrasen it was still a sore point for him.”

Gavriel wasn't sure he wanted to know what– no he needed to know. Needed to know if this man had harmed his cub.

“I–” Aedion hesitated, shaking his head. “There’s no reason to dwell on all that now.”

The Lion frowned, “Aedion–”

“No,” His son shook his head, rising to his feet and Gavriel quickly copied his movements. “It’s all in the past now. Best to leave it there.”

“Son–”

Aedion cleared his throat, quickly leaving room as Gavriel can only stare after him in surprise.

A/N: I’ve thought of a plot line… meaning this is more of a set up chapter for the next two.

As always, let me know if there are any requests for this series, or any other ideas you would like to see.

Chapter Text

Aedion should have walked faster, or at least acknowledged that this conversation was going to happen at some point. It was inevitable with the way Marcus had been eyeing him like a ticking time bomb. 

Maybe he could have said no when his former commander asked to speak with him. He probably should have. No he really should have if the way Marcus was looking at him was any indication.

His commander sighs, shaking his head before moving around the room he had quickly dragged them both in. It was one of the abandoned ones, unsurprising since Aedion had been walking through the old wing that had been closed down due to damage during the war. 

Aelin hadn’t wanted to allocate too much funds to castle renovation when there were still people needing homes. So this wing had been left untouched. Coincidentally it was the place of Aedion’s childhood, nearby to the royal family’s wing yet still separate.

He had found himself walking through these broken hallways more and more recently.

“Well that was quite something.” Marcus drawled as he brushed off a dusty chair, the room had a boarded up ceiling but Aedion could still smell the damp and mould in the rotting wood furniture. “Not at all what I was expecting when I sat down for lunch.”

He sighed, moving to the opposite side of the table and pulling out his own chair that he didn’t bother to clean. 

“I did tell you that Aelin ran her court differently.”

“Without decorum and respect?”

“Only when with trusted members,” Aedion clenched his jaw, biting back the words he wanted to say. “I gave them the impression that you and I had mutual respect for each other.”

Marcus gave him a disbelieving look that shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

“Equals?” He demanded, incredulous that Aedion would have suggested such a thing. “I am your commander.”

“Former commander.”

“And yet I still trained you, taught you everything you know, how to survive, fight, play at politics. How to behave.”

Aedion stilled at the final statement and Marcus scoffed, flinging a hand out at him in accusation.

“And there you go again behaving like a trapped creature.”

His body immediately relaxed, slouching and fidgeting with the casual ease of a human.

“The last thing the people need right now is more unfamiliar fae.” Marcus pointed out and Aedion winced at the ire in his voice. “Or have you forgotten that you are the voice of the common people?”

“I know my responsibilities.”

“Do you?” 

He hesitated, thinking back to all the things he had let slide in the past years. The topics he had focused on and the meetings he had sat in.

“Because the trade deals are being handled by foreign lords. Fenrys Ambassador of Terrasen, but does the White Wolf know what supplies we need?”

“He has spent hours learning–”

“Has he spoken to the people?” Marcus snapped, “ The farmers, the traders, the common folk? Walked through the supply warehouses, seen what we stockpile for winter?”

“There is not enough time in the day–”

“And why are the deals mutually beneficial?”

“Good allies are important.” Aedion implored, thinking back to the meeting with his cousin, Galan Ashryver. “Even staying cordial with them could be crucial in times of need.”

“And this isn’t a time of need? With shortages of food thanks to the fields that haven’t recovered from the battles.”

“Fenrys has centuries of experience, he is good at his job.”

“I don’t doubt that but I have seen the techniques he has been employing.” Marcus pauses, staring hard at Aedion before sighing, shaking his head in a way that has Aedion feeling small. “Fenrys is good, I don’t doubt the skill of your friend, Aedion.” He shouldn’t feel relieved by that placating tone. “But he is employing methods that work overseas, that match the needs of a fae people in a warmer climate, not of those here.”

“He is improving.” Aedion murmured quietly, having picked up on similar issues and had pointed them out to the White Wolf. 

Marcus looked at him sadly, as though he were a boy once again misunderstanding his teachers.

“Not fast enough.”

Aedion nodded, accepting the rebuke.

“And where has your voice gone amongst these fae, hmm?” Marcus asked, voice still quiet and low. “They have all taken the blood oath, you being the last, and as such your opinion seems to have disappeared.”

“My opinion is different than yours.” Aedion snapped defensively but Marcus only stared back unimpressed. “That does not mean I am not heard or involved in our country.”

“Could have fooled me, boy.”

Aedion bristled at the diminutive name.

“Where was your voice when the food distribution was prioritised to the major cities and taken away from the locals to favour the immigrants?” Aedion raised his chin, just a fraction, the only defiance he could show in that moment. “Where was your opinion on how much land to allocate to the Northmen? Or when the Bane was moved to the Staghorn mountains and away from the Fangs? How do you think the lack of our trade and protection affected those people?”

“I–”

“And what about today? In these meetings.” Marcus had leant back in his chair, every bit the commander capable of taking men down with a single blow. “The naivety of your queen about her own culture is wiping out our heritage. Yet you stand by and do nothing.”

“Ael–Aelin is– she’s doing her–”

“For gods sake, boy, I thought we dealt with that stutter years ago.” 

Aedion flinched back, heart racing as Marcus rose from his seat to loom over him.

“You are the general commander, act like it.”

– – – 

Lorcan watched the boy with narrowed eyes. 

To Aedion’s credit he did not falter under the attention, even as he steadfastly conducted a meeting that Lorcan had no business being present in. He really couldn’t care less about the trade and farmers of Terrasen. 

Maybe those of Perranth, since they were his people, but Aedion seemed to be going over old documents. Again. As if they hadn’t already checked them all.

Unfortunately for the Ashryver prince Lorcan had overheard him summoning the advisors to one of their private meeting rooms and decided to join. Which makes it sound like he was interested, so Aedion had started talking and–

Well he wasn’t sure what it was but the boy was wrong .

There was an air about him that was just off. Lorcan had no intention of leaving until he knew why. 

Aedion on the other hand was adamantly ignoring the Lord. Focusing on directing the advisors on the information he wants to gather. Similarities between Aedion and the advisors started popping up and Lorcan found himself glancing between the two. It wasn’t looks but mannerisms.

One advisor from the south would ruffle his hair, then Aedion was tugging at his own blonde locks. Another would brush a hand across their jaw and second later Aedion was dragging a hand down the side of his face.

All the movements were slightly exaggerated, twisted slightly into the mirror image of the human lords.

There was a single moment where Aedion sat–

“Leave us.” 

The room paused at his command. Aedion stilling like a deer being preyed upon, a stillness that revealed his fae blood. One by one the human advisors trotted out from the room, barely holding back their murmurs and darting eyes as Aedion and Lorcan stared each other down.

Lorcan leant back in his chair, a forced movement as he consciously behaved more human than fae. 

“It took me a long time to smooth out those human reactions.” Aedion held himself impossibly still, not daring to breathe as Lorcan held his gaze. “At first I didn’t notice anything was different, all children are hyper, but fae children behave more like fawns and cubs, reacting instinctively to things. Dropping to the ground in fear, whimpering and growling from a young age.”

Lorcan tilted his head in a predatory movement. “More akin to predators than prey. I have always found humans, with their soft bodies and constant movement, to be something of a prey creature.”

“No one wants to be prey when you live on the streets.” Lorcan felt his expression flicker at the memory of those old wounds. “I imagine it was something of the same for you.” He shuffled in place, another conscious movement as he forced himself to find another comfortable, arrogant position in his seat. “Living under Adarlan’s control, fearing persecution.”

Aedion’s throat bobbed.

“Clearly you feared behaving like a fae rather than a human.” Lorcan couldn’t help scanning Aedion head to toe, taking in his frozen stance and human clothing. “Something which I had hoped you had grown to be more comfortable about over the years. Picking up on traits and unlearning them is always a strange experience but I had felt that subconsciously you had begun to be at ease with your fae side.”

“I have.” Aedion croaked, eyes darting about the room as he slides back into his chair.

Lorcan tsks, shaking his head.

“Not right now. You’re… back, at the beginning, or further back than that.”

“My… behaviour isn’t something you need to be concerned about.”

Lorcan doesn't like the way Aedionr recites the words. As though he’s repeating something he had heard, or warping a phrase someone has said.

“It is when you're on edge.”

“I’m not.”

“Aedion.” The demi fae bristles at his pointed tone, refusing to meet Lorcan’s eyes. “Tell me what’s happened, pup.”

“What makes you–”

“Don’t bullshit me,” he bares his teeth, imitating a snarl with no noise. Aedion winces at the flash of teeth. “I’ve been exactly where you are now for centuries. I understand the feeling well, Aedion, and I know of the many things that can cause a… regression, like this.”

Aedion wilts at his words, curling in upon himself and something breaks in Lorcan’s cold dead heart.

“Let me help,” He doesn't need to force the soothing tone, instinctively reaching out a hand to the scared cub. “I’m here to help.”

– – –

“You must be Marcus.”

Everything about Lorcan’s chipper voice and wide smile sets Fenrys immediately on edge, he instinctively shifts at the promise of violence and death. Easily donning white fur as he prowls closer to the crowd. Lorcan stands in all his dark and bitter glory at the top of the courtyard stairs, strong stance, hands held at the small of his back like a true soldier, and completely unbothered by the mass of young soldiers whose attention he has now caught.

“General Ashyrver has told me many things about you.”

The White Wolf sidled up to Gavriel at Lorcan’s threat, fur brushing against his leg but Gavriel’s attention didn’t stray from the pair before them. Marcus hasn’t moved so much as an inch from his place in the centre of the courtyard, still holding his training sword like he’s going to continue on with his demonstration. As if the young female he was using as an example hadn’t already scampered back off into the crowd.

“You do seem like the type to have your soldiers work up an appetite.” Lorcan smiles widely as he stalks down the stairs, glancing round at all the young faces that had retreated to the edges of the training yard. “I’m sure these young folk will have exhausted them by the end of your little ‘pre dinner’ sessions.”

“Is there an issue you would like to take with my methods?”

Fenrys would have commended anyone else for remaining stoic and professional in the face of Lorcan wrath, as it stands he desperately wants to see the Bane Commander squirm and whimper.

Lorcan only hums in thought, a mocking sound as he glances to the sky, looking for an answer as he strolls closer with his hands still clasped behind his back.

“Oh I have many complaints about your methods .” 

Fenrys bared his teeth at the flicker in Lorcan’s expression, a bitter darkness shining through on the face of Hella’s favoured. Instinctively the Lion stalks closed, flanking Marcus on his right, as Fenrys pads over to the left with silent paws on the rough ground. 

It’s an effort to keep his attention solely on Marcus. The wolf, the beast that has already raged beneath his skin, cries out for blood. For retribution on the young cub’s behalf. But two centuries worth of training holds him back, forces him to remain focused and in the moment. And consequently aware of Gavriel’s trembling form as he leers down at the man that hurt his son.

Lorcan’s raised voice captures his attention, along with the crowd of trainees that the former commander has suddenly begun to address.

“How many of you has he starved in punishment?” He hums at the end, signifying the mocking note to his question. “How many of your brothers and sisters have been cast from your ranks for having what this man believes to be dirty blood.”

Gavriel’s low growl echoes through the courtyard, only rivalled by the deep baritone of Fenrys’ own snarl as the wolf lowers himself closer to the ground, preparing to pounce at the frozen Bane Commander.

“Your General has read the reports,” Lorcan calls out, “and he does not look fondly on his soldiers being mistreated.”

Fenrys glances round at the young soldiers, the men and women, human and fae, who had all signed up to fight under his son's command. Who all existed under the protection of Aedion Ashryver. Each one of them had a hard expression on their face. Some of them were trembling with what the White Wolf knew to be barely restrained grief and rage.

“Your Queen wishes for this man to face trial.” Lorcan proclaims and Fenrys knows that to be bullshit. If Aelin knew, then Marcus would already be dead. “Your General wishes for his head.”

A low murmuring spread through the crowd, one of appreciation and surprise.

“You can’t be serious.” Marcus’ demanding question goes unanswered. 

Lorcan’s gaze drifts back to the former Bane Commander and Marcus has the good sense to pale at that dark glare, even if he does attempt to maintain some of his composure.

“Where is Ashryver?” Marcus demands, straightening up as he dons a familiar personna that Fenrys had seen on the faces of many now dead soldiers. “I would speak with the General.”

Lorcan tuts, it's an amusing mockery of the sound coming from him.

“The General is currently indisposed.” Lorcan’s smile slowly dropped from his face as he appraised Marcus with a new look. “There were concerns that his… reaction… would be too extreme.”

So they sent Lorcan instead?

Gavriel was going to lose his mind if Lorcan didn’t pull his shit together and get to the point. The Lion was trembling at his side and Fenrys had to trample down his surprise at seeing the mountain lion in place of his friend. He hadn’t even heard him shift.

“And the meaning of this whole parade is… what?” Marcus drawlled even as he trembled under Lorcan’s stare. “A show of…. Well it certainly shows Ashryver’s lack of strength.”

A lion’s snarl echoes through the courtyard and Marcus turns, throat bobbing at the lion leering at him from three paces away. The damn fool crouched down, lowering himself to Gavriel’s eye level. An example, this man wanted Gavriel to lose control.

“I am the reason your son is alive.” Marcus whispered, so low that only the fae could hear him. “When the fae were executed for their ears and mannerisms I was the one who beat all those traits out of your son. I was the one who cut those disgusting ears–”

Cries of alarm spread through the crowd as the coppery tang of blood filled the air, burning at his nostrils. That dark scent woke something in him and it was only instinct to pounce, copying Gavriel’s movements and sinking his teeth into the commander’s flesh.

– – – 

Gavriel tracked the scent of his kin back to his own room, carefully creaking open the bedroom door and stepping into the shadowed room. The only light came from the fireplace between the two armchairs.

“I knew what he was like,” Aedion whispers into the darkness as Gavriel walks closer to his son. “And I still left him alive in the world. Let him train others.”

Gavriel silently lowers himself into the empty armchair, never taking his eyes from his cub’s tear stained face.

“I didn’t care about the other people he could hurt, or the next boy he would train.” Aedion shook his head, twisting himself up in guilt. “I was just so desperate to forget it all and move on. To have one less problem.”

“It’s not on you to fix every problem.” Gavriel murmured, voice rough from how long he had spent scrubbing the blood from his maw. “You were a child then.”

“I’m not a child now.”

“Still.”

“He’s dead?”

“Tore him to pieces myself.” Gavriel states, a sad lilt to his voice. “I’m sorry” He suddenly adds on. “If that’s not what–”

“No, no.” Aedion waved him off with a sluggish movement, before brushing a hand along the side of his jaw. “Thank you. For taking care of it.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Chapter Text

Aedion woke with what could only be described as a headache from hell. One that lasted through the morning and into breakfast where Fenrys had the good grace to just sit quietly by his side. As did Lorcan. And Rowan. And Gavriel. And fucking Vaughan.

“Do I get the entourage all day?” He drawled, forcing some of his usual sarcasm into his voice. “Or is this just a breakfast special?”

“I’m not babysitting you all day.” Lorcan huffs, as if he wasn’t the one who appeared at Aedion’s bedroom door to walk him to breakfast. Not before commenting on his outfit and getting him to change into something more presentable.

He couldn’t wait for Lysandra to come home. At least she was subtle about her outfit critiques.

“Aelin sent me to prevent any murders.” Rowan shrugged, looking out at the crowd of soldiers who had been watching their every movement. “And to show that you all have the crown's full support in your previous murderous endeavours.”

Aedion can't help the sigh that slips from his chest, or the slump of his shoulders.

“That’s going to be a headache to deal with.” He murmurs quietly, more to himself than anyone else. No one disagreed with him but he did catch the worried look shared between various members of the former cadre. “You couldn’t have considered being a little less dramatic.”

“I was feeling the moment.”

He stared at Lorcan, incredulous with the normally so serious male. Apparently spilling your traumatised guts to him had him simping like a fool. It would be disconcerting but Aedion was just grateful to have someone on his side.

“It’s of no matter.” Gavriel is quick to reassure him, shooting the cadre a look. “What’s done is done and you weren’t even involved.”

“Lorcan stated my involvement by name.”

“He said you had been restrained.”

“Sounding like I condone violence and that I was locked up isn’t any better.”

Lorcan didn’t even look ashamed of his actions, even as Gavriel awkwardly tried to find ways to reassure his son.

“You know what,” Aedion’s huffs out, rising from his seat at the head table in the mess-hall. “I’ve got an unsurprisingly large amount of paperwork to get through. You lot deal with the death you caused, I’m going to go fix my army.”

“Aedion–”
“Son–”

“No, I’m leaving.” He grumbled, straightening the lapels of his jacket. “It’s too early in the morning for your bullshit.”

– – –

This time Aedion had the good grace to turn away the second he saw Avril walking towards him. Last time he had entertained one of his former commanders' conversations there had been a murder.

“Ashryver!”

Maybe if he pretended not to hear him–

“You have fae hearing, quit pretending that you can’t hear me.”

Suppressing his groan, Aedion stopped in place, angling his body back enough that he could see the strong figure of Commander Avril stalking towards him. He had never learnt the commander’s first name. He was just one of those soldiers that was nothing outside of the job and armour.

Even now he could still remember being a young boy, staring up at Avril’s towering figure, the embodiment of what it meant to be a soldier of Terrasen. Decades later and Aedion was the one looming over the commander.

“I was hoping to talk with you on some of the policies before today’s meeting.”

Code for: I’m going to rip you a new one for signing off on the murder of Marcus.

“Of course.” Aedion kept his voice smooth and polite, utilising one of his many charming smiles that had disarmed his enemies over the years. “There should be a spare meeting room along here.”

Ideally one not in an abandoned wing of the castle this time.

“Lead the way.”

Aedion wastes as much time as he can strolling through the hallways, greeting every servant he comes across and passing along a message to Gavriel and Lorcan via one of them.

“I didn’t know Lord Lochan and the Lion would be sitting in on the next meeting.”

Aedion hums, buying himself some time.

“They were interested after–” He pauses, hesitating.

“After yesterday.”

He can’t help wincing.

“There will be consequences, Aedion.” Avril cautioned as if he was still that ten year old boy that had been dragged to his office in Orynth Castle to be lectured on fighting in the hallways. “A commander was killed.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Avril worries, suddenly sounding every bit the tired older man he was. “Because those fae are built for a different world than you. As General of Terrasen–”

“You know.” Aedion huffs, stopping by a polished wood door. “The last person who spoke to me in such a way was Marcus.”

“I’d like to think I’m more reasonable.”

Aedion doesn’t appreciate the light hearted response but Avril doesn’t so much as quiver under his gaze.

“I mean you no harm, Aedion.” his commander implores, and something about the softness in his eyes has Aedion relaxing. “I worry, that is all.”

“Yet you never seem to take action.”

“My greatest flaw.” The reproach in his expression is palpable. “Caution and fear has paralysed me as much as it has saved my life.”

“You kept us alive.”

Avril shakes his head sadly. For the first time Aedion is faced with the notion that his commander might truly be regretful. So rarely had he ever seen any of them doubt. 

“Do not let me off so easily.”

“I speak the truth.”

“And what life did I raise you into? Hmm?” Avril demands quietly, staring up at Aedion. “One where you were trained by men like Marcus? Raised for war. Or the life where you lived as a slave with a commander unwilling to defend you.”

Aedion swallowed thickly, glancing round at the sparsely occupied corridor and the few curious eyes watching them.

“This isn’t the place.”

“It’s not, but I do not wish to impose upon you.”

“You never could, Avril.”

– – –

Guilt and regret had become his true constant companion over the years. 

Though that was being generous. It was more like decades full of fear and self loathing that had just turned reflective in his old age. Avril knew full well that he wasn’t one of the bravest or strongest soldiers in their army. Hell, there had been days before the war when he had wondered just what the hell he was doing there. A man like him had no business fighting.

But Quinn had always called him the peacemaker.

The man of morals and god.

He never felt very virtuous, and if anything Quinn had always been the most pious.

But being regulated to boardrooms and planning meetings had served him well. Just because he didn’t have a thirst for blood didn’t mean he couldn’t plan a perfect siege. At one, stupidly naive point in his career he had even thought all of his worries and cautions to be of benefit, something of a skill. 

Paranoia was the reason most men survived wars after all.

Now he was tired of fearing for the next generation. It was no longer his torch to carry. Yet the male who should be championing the cause seems to have lost his way. Not that Avril can blame Aedion for taking the time he so desperately needed. Everyone needed to regroup after the last war, hell, many of them were still traumatised from the first battle at Theralis.

Aedion was quiet as they strode through the halls. 

At first he had attributed it to one of his many political facades. Avril had been privy to many rebel meetings, helping to plan various rescue missions, fake battles, supply runs and general underminement of Adarlan’s control. During that time he had witnessed the many layers of charm and wit Aedion had employed to garner favour. Along with the subtle intimidation.

So it was easy to assume that Aedion was playing one of the many characters he had built over the years. Naturally Avril had hoped things would be easier with Terrasen back in control but politics has, and always will be, a game. A blood sport, if you will. Aedion knew how to play.

Yet this wasn’t a mask. 

Or rather it was but not one Avril recognised.

Because there was something settled about the young boy he had once known. Where there had been brash anger and bitter resentment was now something Avril dared called peace. There was a calmness to his actions, Avril had no doubt that the general could still be cunning and vicious when he wanted to be, but he wondered if his thoughts would first drift to peace or war in a confrontation. 

Two years ago Aedion would have fought every battle he could, taking on the weight of the world. He sincerely hoped that Aedion had learnt how to delegate. Picking and choosing which skirmishes to turn into fights would also be an added bonus.

“In here.”

Avril straightened, pulling back his wandering thoughts as Aedion led them into a smaller meeting room that Avril hadn’t seen before. His work had always been in the lower levels, back before Orynth fell, that is.

“What can I help you with, commander?” Aedion took a seat at the worn table in the centre of the room, gesturing to the chair opposite him that had its back to the door.

Oh he certainly hadn’t lost his touch. 

It was a conscious effort for Avril not to be unnerved at having his back to the entrance. For someone as paranoid as himself it was almost torturous, a fact Aedion was well aware of.

“First of all, my condolences.” Avril kept his head high as he took the chair offered to him, “Marcus was a fine commander.”

Aedion’s blank expression didn’t flicker beyond the slight inclination of his head, accepting his condolences.

“Second of all, my congratulations.” Avril tilts his head up defiantly. “Marcus was a prick.”

The male before him didn’t so much as twitch. He just continued to stare at Avril with cold blue eyes. How different he looked now, that famed gold hair gleamed in the low light, broken, bumped fingers drummed along the table edge. 

Avril sighed, “Marcus was trapped in the past, the rest of us are trying to look to the future.”

Aedion’s head tilted in a lupine movement that reminded Avril of his hard earned title.

“There are… concerns about yours and her Majesty’s lack of interest in our people and tradition. Old wounds have been reopened, Aedion.”

“We’ve been a little busy fixing the new ones.” Aedion drawled. “What with a war and rebuilding the city and our country.”

“And yet you are carrying out Rhoe’s mistakes from before the war.”

“Careful.” Aedion whispered, eyes darkening. 

Avril had the good grace to hesitate, knowing he was walking a fine line.

“Rhoe took over for Orlon in the last couple of years, as you know, specifically in areas of education, housing, social issues. It was an effort to win over the common folk, to stop him from appearing so militant.”

“And this is relevant how?”

“Why is our national language still that of Adarlan? Why has the old language and the Northmen’s various tongues been removed from the education curriculum?” Avril challenged, meeting Aedion’s gaze head on. “Why are your housing projects encroaching on historical lands? What about your allocation of funds and titles, who is deciding such things considering that an Adarlan courtesan was favoured over the many lords and ladies who had fought and bled for Terrasen in the past decade?”

Aedion remained silent, stone faced before Avril’s challenge.

“Once you would have been on our side.”

“Our side?”

He sighed, the wrong phrasing perhaps.

“Everyone else versus the upper class? Everyone against Adarlan’s control?”

“Things are different now.”

“Are they?”

– – –

Aedion was once again being stalked by the cadre. Well, them minus Rowan, who was busy with his kingly duties. Vaughan had stumbled across him walking aimlessly through the corridors thinking through Avril’s words. That damn male always had an ability to worm into Aedion’s head. Usually he was right but Aedion found himself hoping that Avril was wrong this time. 

Thankfully Vaughan seemed content to walk in silence with Aedion. Joining him on his ramble through memory lane as he sought out the old halls.

New tapestries had replaced the old ones. These depicted the new battles, some showed aspects of other cultures as well. Each one born from Aelin and Rowan’s travels over the years. None, Aedion noted, depicted the truth of Terrasen.

Once he could have walked through a hallway and been shown a great story of his people’s ancestors. Now he was told other lands, great battles, peace treaties. 

A step in the right direction for peace and unity but perhaps a step back for honouring his people.

“Wonderful craftsmanship.” Aedion turned at Vaughan’s words but the Osprey’s focus was on the tapestry before. “There’s few places I have seen over the years with such respect for the old arts.”

A distant debate between Dorian and Aelin rose to mind, a silly argument over frescos versus tapestries as a form of documentation. Both of them had been insultingly shocked when Aedion had an opinion on the matter.

“Rowan out did himself with this gift.”

Aedion hummed in acknowledgement. Whitethorn was certainly devoted to Aelin, and as much as Aedion hated thinking about their relationship he was eternally grateful for the prince. Even if this depiction of Aelin and Rowan’s tale was a little self centred.

“A depiction of their love.” Aedion murmured, eyes drawn to that final panel. A golden queen surrounded by a field of Kingsflame. “A tale for the history books.”

Gavriel moved to Aedion’s side on silent footsteps, eyes focused on the art piece before them. Sprawling images of detailed gold-red flowers, each one carefully stitched and woven with a string that seemed to glow in the afternoon light. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“I have forgotten my people.”

Trembles followed his confession, like the ground he stood on had shaken with the force of it. It was all he could do to breathe steady, to force himself into the moment. Those golden flowers mocked him, a sea of red across once green hills.

“How could I–” He choked, voice thick. “I forgot.”

Curling his hand into a fist does nothing to help the sharp pins digging into his skin. A needling pressure that seems to rise up from his fingertips. 

Fuck. He needs to get a grip.

His fingers ache as he unfurls them, forcing them open and closed again and again just like Quinn had taught him. Now was not the time to break. Not over something like this. He’d dealt with this-this weakness before, he had overcome it then and he will now.

“Aedion.”

“S’fine.” He gasps, cutting off Gavriel’s soft question. “Just… a minute, give me a minute.”

His father did.

The lion waited patiently at his side while he caught his breath. Forcing himself to go through the drawn out motions of counting breaths, holding for four, exhaling for four, matching the curl of his hands to the rhythm, following it with flexing his feet. Whatever it took to stop his body from shutting down on him in a panic.

Gods how he hated this.

How easily he could be reduced back to a scared child.

Maybe it was Avril. Though it was more likely to be Marcus. Seeing them again always took him back to the places of his childhood. And once he was back in those hell holes the fear came back with them.

You can’t blame other people. 

He could certainly try.

It never works out.

Might just work out this time.

Aedion sighs, rolling his shoulders out and releasing the tension that had built up in the minutes, hours, years, he had been caught in his fear. Brushing it off and letting it take Quinn’s voice with it.

“I spoke with Avril.” He whispered, and there was something gratifying about Gavriel’s lack of reaction. There was no judgement, no jumping to conclusions. “He reminded me of the things I once stood for.”

The Kingsflame looked more gold than red in the waning light. Aedion kept his eyes on the tapestry, following the individual stitchs of each glowing outline. He couldn’t look at Gavriel, not right now. No, he needed to see the depiction of his people. The one he had been unconsciously searching out in his wanderings.

“Why did Rowan send for a weaver from Wendyln?”

“We’ve worked with them before. Rowan and I are both from great houses, every couple of decades there's always a need for new tapestries, documenting history, art.”

Aedion hummed, “I remember Orlon doing something similar. Aelin’s nursemaid took us to see the new tapestries.”

“Do you remember much of the youth you spent together?”

“I remember stamping out the flames of a burning tapestry.” Gavriel’s huff of amusement matches Aedion’s own reaction to the memory. “It had been a rather good rendition of Aelin’s coming of age. I was depicted in the shadows at her side.”

“What did she disapprove of?”

“Well aside from the fact she didn’t view it as a good likeness, the fact she had her signature angry pout,” Gavriel chuckled. Aedion grinned at his father’s laugh, something warming in him at his ability to make the male laugh. “Or the fact I was depicted as a wolf and not as me.”

Gavriel paused. 

Aedion could feel his father’s eyes boring into the side of his head.

“I thought you got your title during the war.”

“I did, in some ways that is. In others…” Aedion trailed off. “The weaver wasn’t fond of me. I think I went to school with his child, perhaps that was the reason.” He sighed, rubbing at the side of his neck, fighting the urge to fidget further under his father’s attention. “Either way it was a… rabid depiction of a wolf. One that used shadows and dark stitching to hide the grotesque details.”

“You were a child.” Gavriel’s gruff voice belied his calm expression, revealing the tension hidden underneath. “They should have not been so cruel.”

Aedion shrugged, “I was a representation of the fae’s hold over Terrasen. A reminder of our ties to Wendyln and Maeve. Many feared that my future position as Aelin’s bloodsworn would just make me a puppeteer pulling her strings.”

Gavriel said nothing, no doubt agreeing with his people’s fear. Aedion didn’t blame them for viewing him as such a thing, he did as a child, he hadn’t understood back then. Now he knew better. He had seen first hand what a puppet state could do to a kingdom.

“Aelin burned it for insulting me.” 

There was nothing proud about the statement. Once there would have been. He would have relished being under her protection. Equals in devotion to one another. Time has changed him, Avril’s words have twisted his perspective. Aedion couldn’t decide whether those Kingsflames flowers were more red or gold.

“What did Avril say, Aedion?” Gavriel prompted quietly.

“He reminded me that I have forgotten my people’s heritage. I’ve forgotten what I spent decades trying to protect.”

Aedion met Gavriel’s gaze for the first time in hours, holding his curious stare with his own guilty one. He wondered if his father could see the pain in his eyes, if he could scent the guilt that clung to him. Or maybe it was grief. Aedion could not tell the emotion apart. Decades of his life dedicated to preserving the traditions and heritage of Terrasen, all simply thrown away. 

“They started by burning our tapestries.” Aedion could hear how flat his voice had gone but he continued to hold his father’s stare, noting the differences in the gold. The Lion versus the Kingsflame. One was more russet than the other. “Portraits, tapestries, books, furniture, anything that was carved, woven or painted by Terrasenian’s hands was taken into the open spaces and burned.”

He turned away from Gavriel, from the new tapestries. Instead, Aedion looked out the tall windows behind them, stalking forward till he could look down at the courtyard below. It was easy to remember the sea of red flames that had danced across those cobblestones. Pyres for his people fueled by their own craftsmanship.

“They smashed stained windows for depicting our kings and queens. Torn out mosaic floors for honouring our gods. Scholars were slaughtered where they worked. Students were executed, burned over the flames of their texts.”

Black smog had risen above the courtyards. The rotten stench of burnt flesh had filled the streets, following the burned out husks that had been cast aside in the alley ways. The few canals that cut across the city had turned black with soot, mud and blood. 

Where were the tapestries depicting those images?

He remembered the ones from before, not in great detail, but still enough to remember the battles depicted. The memories that his ancestors had chosen to keep alive.

Now that courtyard once full of books and flames was filled with rubbled and ash. It’s stance as one of the more further out courtyards meant it was still being refurbished after the war. Slow progress when Aelin had chosen to prioritise rebuilding the city rather than the castle.

But here, with these tapestries and the ash, Adarlan’s influence still remained. It had not been overwritten or rebuilt, but left the same.

“I have let the history I fought to protect fall in with the ashes of Adarlan.”

A/N: Finally updating this series again, let me know what you think!