Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Hey."

It was the first word Cormac Donnall heard as he cracked his eyes open. The world was bright and the sun hurt his eyes, and he had to squint to ward off the headache he knew was looming until his eyes had adjusted properly.

But the headache never came.

"You okay?" the voice said again, this time a hint of concern lacing his words. Cormac gave his head a nod and groaned as he pulled himself into a sitting position, feeling a hand brace against his back to help keep him up.

"What happened?" Cormac asked, rubbing a hand against his temple while keeping his eyes shut against the blazing sun. "I remember going to the lab with Tharion to take down Peppa Spetsos. I remember getting shot." He gave his head a shake as the memories became blurry. "I waited for Tharion to get out - yelled at him to leave while he still could. I watched him go. And then..." Nothing. He couldn't remember what happened after that. Cormac forced his eyes to open and focus on the world around him; the people around him. The hand on his back was suddenly unfamiliar and wrong, and Cormac lurched away from the body beside him before sprawling on what he realized was grass. He was barely in control of his own limbs - was weak like a child. He tried to summon his beautiful shadows, but his palms remained empty, as did that familiar well of power that always resided in his chest. He was empty.

"Just calm down, buddy," that body said, holding his hands out in front of him as though he could placate Cormac's rising panic. "I know you're confused. I can help you."

Cormac's body stilled and he lifted his eyes to the stranger in front of him, his eyes finally clear and his mind able to focus. The man before him was tall and - regrettably - extremely handsome. He had high and elegant cheekbones, and if Cormac was to guess, he'd say the man came from some kind of royal bloodline that had been bred to preserve such beautiful genetics. He had bronze hair that, despite being messy and out of place, looked like it was meant to be so. His golden brown eyes sparkled in the sunlight with a hint of mischief, and the smile on his face was so warm and comforting that Cormac's body instantly seemed to relax.

The stranger took a step forward before planting himself in front of Cormac on the grass, sitting with his legs crossed and his hands placed gently in his lap.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," the stranger said. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. It's hard for people for a while when they come here. This is a pretty normal reaction."

Cormac's face twisted in confusion. "What're you talking about? Aren't we still in Pangera? How am I alive?"

The man hissed slightly, and Cormac lifted his eyes so their gazes were locked. And the look in the stranger's eyes said everything.

"I'm not alive, am I?" The man shook his head. "So, where am I?"

The man smiled again. "Somewhere in between." He reached a hand down, and Cormac grasped it as he felt his body get pulled off the ground. His legs were shaky and he felt unstable, but that man was there to steady him.

He gave Cormac another brilliant smile. 

"I'm Sam. Sam Cortland."

Chapter Text

"So, I did die, right? This is the afterlife?"

Sam nodded with a grimace. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news."

"It's not necessarily bad," Cormac said. "I didn't plan to make it out of that lab alive. That was the plan. I stuck to it."

"You saved your friend in the process," Sam replied. "Saved a lot of people, in fact. What you did was something you only read about in books." There was no feeling of pride in Cormac's chest at the man's praise. He hadn't done it to be remembered as a hero. He'd done it as a way to save his world and his people. To promise them a better future in the hands of his previous bride-to-be... cousin... whatever. He knew that Bryce would give them a better future than the Asteri ever had, and he'd been prepared and willing to do whatever it took to ensure his people would live well and free. He'd done it for his friends, too. For their freedom as well. For those who lived shackled to the Asteri like Hunt despite all he'd done for them. Cormac had done it for all those who suffered under their overlord's rule. But when the moment had come, he'd thought of only one person before it all went dark.

Cormac kept his eyes on a swivel as he and Sam strolled through the grassy field, but Cormac's gaze was trained on the horizon, as though he'd find what he was looking for it he just wished for it hard enough. Sam was still talking beside him, something about how this place had managed to link multiple worlds together to form one unified life where they could all finally find peace.

"As someone who's been here a long time, it's been pretty strange to watch people come over the years. I'm sorry you're here, but I'm sure there's at least one person here that you'll know."

"I hope there's one," Cormac sighed, not daring to hope.

Sam's head tipped to one side. "Does this one person have a name? Maybe I know them."

Cormac choked once on her name then breathed, "Sophie."

"Does this Sophie have a last name?"

"Renast. Sophie Renast."

Sam just hummed noncommittally and kept walking. They eventually reached the crest of a small hill, and suddenly a city was sprawling before them. It wasn't anything like Lunathion or any city Cormac had ever seen. There were no towering buildings reaching to the sky or cars ripping through the streets. Humans and Fae alike weren't walking down sidewalks with their faces plastered to their phones as if the world would move out of their way to avoid getting hit. There was no tension in the air like there was in Crescent City - no power-hungry overlords trying to feed off of their magic. Only an ease that settled on Cormac's shoulders as they made their way down the other side of the hill. The streets were quiet with only a few people milling about, but the ones he did see were deep in conversation with each other, or were walking on their own but taking in the sights. Everyone's eyes were open and focused on the world, rather than fixated on a screen or the new stressful job they'd been given by their boss. The houses lining the streets were small and single storied. There were no apartments to be seen - just cozy homes that would normally only be seen deep in residential neighborhoods. Cormac couldn't help but grin at the sight. He'd come from a large kingdom, but he'd always craved this kind of quiet.

Until the quiet was shattered.

"CORMAC!" The scream echoed through the air, heads turning to the source of the voice.

But Cormac didn't need to see the person to know the voice. He'd heard every night in his dreams.

He turned his head slowly as if in a daze. Like his body couldn't believe what his ears were hearing. But there she was, as beautiful as the day he'd seen her running from the prison. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she had a pissed look on her face, though the corners of her mouth were twitching like she was trying desperately to hide her smile. And in that moment Cormac knew that he was wrong. She wasn't as pretty as she'd been bolting away from the Hind. At that moment, she'd never looked more beautiful. He took a step toward her, and Sam faded away into the background. Though Cormac hadn't been able to miss the shit-eating grin plastered on the man's face the second Sophie had spoken. Cormac felt like he was walking in a dream, like he was floating on air. And all of a sudden he was standing in front of Sophie, like they'd never been separated in the first place.

Sophie inclined her head. "Agent Silverbow."

Cormac didn't wait before throwing his arms around her and pulling her into a deep kiss. They stayed like that for a long time; bodies intertwined and unable to let go. Their time apart had been too long - had been painful to endure even though, in reality, it was so short a time to be separated. But for Cormac - in his heart - it had felt like an eternity. When they finally separated, Cormac looked over his shoulder to see Sam standing with his arm around the shoulders of a blonde haired woman. She was strikingly beautiful. Her body was lithe and expertly honed, as though her body itself were a weapon. She was gazing at Cormac with eyes of fire - a distinct turquoise color surrounded by a ring of gold. Her golden hair glimmered in the sunlight and was tied in a tight braid that hung down all the way near her navel. She wore an all black skintight suit with boots that reached the knee. She was clearly a fighter, but Sam looked down at her with a love that melted his heart. Like he'd been waiting his whole life for her to stand by his side. It was the same kind of look that Cormac hoped he reflected when he looked at Sophie.

Cormac watched as Sam and the girl walked up to them, still arm in arm, and the woman flashed Cormac a sly grin. "Hello Sophie," she said, turning to look at his girl. Sophie returned the acknowledgement with a smile of her own.

Sam cleared his throat and gestured to the woman at his side. "Cormac, this is Celaena; Celaena Sardothien. Celaena, this is Cormac."

"You did a good job out there," Celaena said. Her voice was rich and warm, and held a menacing tone that promised she could kill him without lifting a finger if she really wanted to. "We all saw it. If there's one thing I can get behind, it's doing everything in your power to save a friend." There was a knowing light in her eyes that said she'd seen her fair share of death; that she'd done her own time saving friends when she'd been living. 

"So..." Cormac wasn't sure where to take the conversation from there. "How'd you die?" He looked at Celaena.

She just smirked at him. "It's a little complicated. Technically, I'm still alive. Or, my body is alive."

"I don't get it."

Sam put a hand on Cormac's shoulder. "None of us really understand it. Celaena here got some special treatment that the rest of us aren't privy to. Though, I won't say I'm not grateful for it. Celaena came to join us here in the spirit world when she accepted who she truly was: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. She let Celaena die, and allowed Aelin to take her place. So, in that moment, Celaena died and Aelin was born, and so my girl came to join us. The spirit of Celaena Sardothien lies here, but the body her spirit resided in lives on, inhabited by the princess she was always meant to be. But for me... I didn't fall in love with the princess. She wasn't my mate. But the assassin was. I fell for the assassin, and I'm so thankful she's back with me."

Cormac couldn't say he totally understood even after the explanation, but the love that they looked at each other with transcended any need for understanding. The two of them were together, and that's all that mattered. 

Sophie linked her arm through his. "Let's go, Agent. I've got a whole world for you to see."

Chapter Text

Connor Holstrom kicked his feet in the pool, watching the water splash gently against the legs of his Alpha. He didn’t dare splash her more than that since the fire sprite on her shoulder would wink out in an instant if she got wet. Their time in the afterlife had shown them that while Lehabah could get wet if she wished — since she couldn’t die again — it wasn’t an experience she particularly enjoyed. She felt like a match being snuffed out when her flames went away, and so she’d made it clear that having water near her wasn’t something she was interested in. So Conner aimed for the legs and no higher. Danika Fendyr let out a gentle laugh and returned the gesture, though she did not spare him as she sent a small wave of water crashing over his body. Her and Lehabah’s howls of laughter rang in his ears and he looked through his dripping hair to see Danika laying on her back, hands pressed against her chest as she tried to breathe through her laughter with the small fire sprite sitting on top of her fingers. Connor scowled at them.

“It’s not that funny, Danika.”

“It was pretty funny,” a voice said. Connor turned his head to see Sam Cortland approaching them, a wide smile on his face as he took a seat beside Connor. “She got you pretty good.”

“Come on man,” Connor whined. “You can’t be on her side.”

Sam reached a hand up and ruffled Connor’s wet hair. “I can’t help it. You’re just such a cute dog when you’re wet.”

“You’re never gonna get sick of the dog jokes, are you?” Sam just shook his head. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“Celaena’s introducing Cormac to people, and Sophie is following along.”

Danika looked up from her spot on the ground. “You didn’t want to go with them?”

Sam shrugged. “I figure there’s enough craziness for Cormac meeting all these new people and finding out he’s not… alive anymore. And Celaena seemed happy enough to cart him around. I saw Danika drench you and thought a moment by the pool wouldn’t be so bad.”

“It was nice,” Connor said, shooting a pointed glare at Danika.

She laughed again. “Don’t frown, pup. You’re not as cute when you frown.” Connor just huffed and Sam knocked against his shoulder.

They stayed by the pool for a good while – long enough that when Connor finally got to his feet his hair was dry and his clothes had been warmed by the sun. All jokes about wet dogs had been left in the past, and Danika had moved on to meet up with the rest of the Pack of Devils. Before Connor could follow his Alpha though, Sam asked if he was brave enough to take on a challenge of immense strength – if he was strong enough to take Sam on in such a task. With a look of confusion, Connor had said yes, then laughed out loud when Sam brought them to a room with a ping pong table sitting in the middle and two paddles resting on each end.

Four hours later, the Pack of Devils sauntered into the room to see Connor and Sam, sweat pouring down their faces as they engaged in the most intense game of ping pong the world had ever seen. Both of their shirts were wet with sweat and their faces were more serious than anyone had ever seen, and Danika didn’t hold back her laughter when she saw the two facing off.

“Shut up Danika!” Connor yelled, smashing the ball across the table. Sam returned it with equal ferocity, and the rally continued. Then Connor let out a loud groan as the ball went soaring past his head and hit the wall behind him before crashing to the floor. Connor picked up the ball and inspected it, then threw it across the room. It landed in a pile that had amassed in a corner.

“They’re all broken,” Sam explained, a grin on his face. “Connor and I seem to have a competitive bone or two in our bodies.”

“It’s assassin versus wolf,” Connor said, rolling his shoulders. 

Danika’s eyebrow raised. “And what are you two playing to?”

The boys smirked. “No limit. First one to quit loses.”

“You’re going to be here till the end of time then. And you promised that tonight we could all relax as a pack and spend the night in,” Danika complained.

Sam threw the ball in the air and served it, earning a quiet grunt from Connor as he returned it. “Sorry Danika,” Sam grunted. “Gotta figure out who’s better.” The conversation came to an end.

Another hour later, Celaena Sardothien herself came strolling into the room. She walked up to Sam’s side of the table, stood there for a moment, and then her hand shot out and closed around the ping pong ball as it soared through the air. She held it in front of her face and gazed at it for a second, then flicked it at Sam and giggled when it hit him in the forehead. 

“Game over,” she purred. “You two can continue your male showdown another day. I want you back home for the night of relaxation you promised me.” She shot Sam a wink and, without checking to see if he was following, walked back out of the room as she flicked her braid over her shoulder.

Sam glanced at Connor, and the wolf gave him an understanding nod. “Until next time, my friend. I don’t dare to keep your lady waiting. She’s terrifying. ”

Sam smiled, eyes trained on the door Celaena had just walked out of. “Yes, she is.” And he walked out after her.

Chapter Text

It was raining when The Lion left his home.

The world was quiet and still, the only sounds being the pattering of rain as it hit the ground. Gavriel sighed to himself and breathed in the wet air, letting it wash through his body and freshen his mind. He knew he didn't have far to walk, but he steeled himself nonetheless for the cold water to hit and soak into his skin. The afterlife was wonderful for so many reasons, but he had yet to find himself an umbrella.

He turned back to the door of his house and held out a hand, grinning as delicate, feminine fingers wrapped around his as their hands locked. He gave his wife a smile, pressed a kiss to her temple, and then the two of them trudged into the rain and strolled off into a nearby forest, thankful that the dense trees were somewhat blocking the rain from falling on him. There was a small pathway a short distance into the woods that branched off the main path and into a patch of thick trees that stood close together. The path ended as a set of wooden stairs led upward toward the tree canopy, and beyond that to a small, cozy cottage resting between a few trees. There were flowers littering the windowsills and the stairway leading to the home, giving a fresh, floral scent to any that decided to visit. Gavriel knocked quietly on the door and rocked on his heels, and a few moments passed before a beautiful young woman opened the door and smiled at him. She had long brown hair that hung loose down her back, and her chestnut eyes held a gentleness that made Gavriel’s knees weak.

“Hello Lyria,” The Lion said, inclining his head in greeting.

“Come in,” she whispered, gesturing for him and his wife to follow. The home was as cozy on the inside as it was on the outside, full of flowers and books with small toys scattered all over the floors. There was a faint scent of pine and snow even among the flowers, as though the scent could never be suppressed no matter how many flowers sat in the house. The woman stopped them in the living room and pointed to a small couch. “Wait here, and I’ll be right back.” Gavriel and his wife took a seat, and he placed a hand on her knee. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

Gavriel was quiet for a moment. “I’m excited,” he replied. “I never got to experience this with you and Aedion. The threat of Maeve finding out about you scared me, and I didn’t want her to use you against me. I knew she’d kill you if she felt like it would be beneficial to her, so I had to go. I can’t believe I didn’t know Aedion existed when I left. Nothing could’ve pulled me away if I had known that – had known that our family was growing. I chose to leave to keep you safe, but it tore me apart to do so. So, I’m happy we get to have this moment, even if it’s not with our own child.” Gavried sighed. “Lyria needs help with this. She’s alone out here. Even when Rowan eventually comes here, he’ll belong to Aelin, not her. This girl has no one here, and there’s no one coming in the future for her. I’m happy we can be here to help her.”

His wife smiled. “She’s part of our family now, Gavriel. She may not have anyone coming, but we’re here for her. For her child.” Gavriel lightly squeezed his wife’s knee as the sound of footsteps pulled their attention to the corner of the room, and Lyria appeared, this time holding a small bundle in her arms.

She said, “I would like you two to meet Eirwen Whitethorn, daughter of Prince Rowan Whitethorn.” She leaned down and handed the babe to Gavriel, and he held the bundle of blankets so gently in his hands. Lyria watched him for a moment, but he barely noticed her. He was busy gazing down at the small child in his arms – her sleeping face, the way her cheek would twitch every now and then from the dream she was having. Her fists would clench and unclench, like she was ready for a fight despite being only days old. 

Gavriel felt tears welling in his eyes, and his wife put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Lyria. “She looks like her father,” he breathed, afraid to speak too loudly. Lyria simply nodded, a tear streaking down her face as well.

“She does,” Lyria said, a small sob escaping her. “She would have made a wonderful princess. I think she would have been just like her father.”

Gavriel smiled. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.” He was quiet for a moment, then looked down at the babe and whispered, “I spent a lot of time with your dad. If you’re anything like him, then you are truly blessed.” He pulled the blanket slowly away from the baby’s face so he could see it better, taking in every tiny feature of her face. He sat there for a long time, just gazing at the child and rocking her slowly back and forth, entranced by everything about her as she slept. Lyria brought them tea and a snack, but Gavriel’s remained untouched. He refused to move as long as Eirwen was asleep so as not to disturb her.

He knew it wasn’t his child. He knew the feeling would’ve been different if he’d been able to hold Aedion in his arms – would’ve been a thousand times stronger holding his son. But sitting there, holding a babe who wouldn’t be able to meet her father for a long, long time… it almost felt like he was making up for lost time. Like he could not replace Rowan, but rather be a stand in until he came to meet them. He could do that for them. Just as he had held the gate, he could hold this family together. Could keep them afloat. Could be the support Lyria and her daughter needed. Until the real father finally came home to relieve him.

He could do that.

Chapter Text

“What’s she up to this time?” Sam asked as he strolled into the room. The woman sitting on the floor had long black hair that hung in thin braids, creamy brown skin, and brown eyes that glimmered with joy as she looked over her shoulder to smile at Sam. There were golden accessories adorning her neck and wrists, as well as small golden earrings that shined when light hit them. Nehemia Ytger gestured for Sam to join her, so he set himself down on the floor next to her and looked to the screen in front of them.

Nehemia sighed. “She’s meeting with an old friend of yours, actually. You came at a good time, for once.” There was a small television sitting on the floor, and playing on its screen was a room filled with Fae males, and a single woman lounging in a large armchair behind a small wooden desk. Rowan Whitethorn and Dorian Havilliard stood nearest to the desk, with Gavriel and Fenrys leaning against the back wall. Sam and Nehemia watched as the blonde haired woman tucked her hands behind her head and perched her feet on top of the desk she was sitting at. The door suddenly opened and a man was muttering under his breath as he walked into the room, but came to a sudden stop when he saw her sitting there.

“I like this office far better than your other one, Rolfe,” the woman said.

Sam snickered with sudden realization. “That’s not Aelin,” he said. “That’s Celaena.” He’d know his girl anywhere, and he knew immediately that the woman sitting in that chair, though she wore Aelin’s face, was in fact the assassin she’d paraded as in the time they’d known each other. And Sam knew that if he were to look for Celaena now, he wouldn’t be able to find her anywhere. Because in these moments, when Aelin needed to be the girl she’d once lived her life as, Celaena stepped in to take the Queen’s place. To aid her in whatever endeavors she was taking part in.

Aelin glanced at Rowan and said in a sultry voice, “you, I don’t know. But I’d like to.”

Her mate’s lips tugged upwards. “I’m not on the market, unfortunately.”

“Pity.” And then Aelin – Celaena – spotted the bowl of emeralds on the desk, scooped them up, and rolled them around in her palm before tossing them one by one back into the dish. “She must be a rare, staggering beauty to make you so faithful.” Rowan chuckled, as did everyone in the room besides the Pirate Lord. Rolfe was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, a look of rage flitting across his face as he beheld Celaena sitting at his desk, messing with his things. Sam knew what was going through Rolfe’s mind – he’d been there when the Pirate Lord had vowed to have Celaena killed if she ever set foot in his city again. As if that threat would’ve ever kept Celaena away.

“She’s playing with fire,” Sam breathed, leaning closer to the TV.

Nehemia laughed. “She is fire. She’s being herself. Rolfe will hate her for it.”

“Rolfe hated her before all of this. Now she’s just rubbing salt in the wound.”

“It’s what she does best. And then she makes them all love her. I’m sure Rolfe will fall victim to her just like all the others have.”

Sam grinned, knowing he was one of those same victims that she’d managed to ensnare. He got to his feet slowly and said, “I’ll be right back,” before leaving the room. Nehemia stayed on the ground, eyes watching the television as Aelin continued to speak to the Pirate Captain as though she had not a care in the world. When Sam returned, his arms were full of popcorn, a couple drinks, and a variety of other snacks that he placed between the two of them.

He shrugged. “I figured we should at least enjoy the show.” Nehemia laughed and dug into the treats.

Turning back to the tv, they watched as Aelin said, “allow me to introduce you, Captain Rolfe, the incomparable , the beautiful, and the absolutely and all-around flawless Queen of Terrasen,” and Aelin Galathynius strolled into the room. She was wearing a dark green tunic and her golden hair was unbound, her eyes laughing as she walked inside the room and perched on the arm of Aelin’s chair. Sam laughed out loud at Rolfe’s slack jaw, and Nehemia tried and failed to hide her giggles behind a hand.

But Sam knew that the woman who walked in the room was not Aelin. Try as she might and as gifted as she was, Lysandra couldn’t hold a candle to the swagger Aelin possessed in every fiber of her body. Their shapeshifter friend was disguised as the Queen of Terrasen, and while Sam knew the truth, she did a remarkable job being someone she wasn’t. And the look on Rolfe’s face when there were two of the same person standing in front of him was one Sam wished he could etch into his brain for all eternity. And then when Lysandra’s form melted back into herself? Sam was apoplectic. Him and Nehemia spent a good long while sitting on that floor, munching on snacks and watching their favorite person get up to all kinds of shenanigans in the place where it all had started; as she set herself loose on Pirate’s Cove once more.

Weeks later, when things began to go wrong, they watched the television less and less. As things began to get more serious and the situations became more dire, Sam didn’t have the heart to watch everything go down in the real world. He walked the streets with Celaena and Nehemia, talking about anything but reality in the hopes that if they refused to speak on it, it wouldn’t be true. But Maeve caught up to their friends, and the world flipped on its axis as Aelin was essentially taken out of the equation.

Sam and Nehemia watched the hill every day that Aelin was in Maeve’s hands. That hill where every new soul appeared was watched day and night, and everyone hoped that its crest would remain empty. Some days, Nehemia was convinced she saw the vague outline of a golden haired woman, free of her scars, face tilted up toward the sun as though she could feel it on her face. But that figure always blinked out of existence and never took true form in their world. Those were the days when Aelin found herself closest to death – the days that Maeve pushed her too far. 

Sam had stopped watching the tv entirely – at least when it came to Aelin. He did watch Rowan on his hunt for his mate, and Sam cheered at the screen every time they started on the right track. But it was still hard to watch, knowing that they were so close to each other, yet it still felt like they were an eternity away.

And just like Nehemia, there was one day that Sam really did see Aelin on that hill. She lingered for so long that Sam thought it had finally happened. She’d finally been pushed over the edge. Aelin had even turned to look at him and waved , like she knew he was there. She smiled at him, her mouth saying his name but it got lost on the breeze before it could reach him. And when he lifted a hand in greeting, she was wrenched away once more. He tried not to think what that meant; what had forced her to go back to her body.

But the next time Sam and Nehemia looked at the tv, they saw her wrapped in the arms of her mate. Bloody and bruised and frighteningly devoid of all scars, but Rowan’s arms were locked around her. Safe.

Just as Sam wanted her to be. Just as Nehemia had always prayed she would be.

Sam pulled his arms around Celaena and held her close, pressing his face into her hair and thanking the gods that she was at his side. He tried not to think about what would happen when Aelin passed away. He didn’t think there could be an Aelin and a Celaena in this place, and frankly, he was pretty sure things would get weird with two of the same person running around the place. 

But for now, he just held onto Celaena as tight as he could. 

For whatever time they had left together.