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Chapter Text

Aedion

It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did. Not when it was some ugly, childhood jealousy rearing its head. Certainly not a valid concern, or even a reasonable one. No, it was simply a product of Aedion’s slowly rotting mind. 

Naturally, none of that logical thinking made it any better to see the utter relief lining Aelin’s body when she sank into Rowan’s arms. 

Rowan. Fucking. Whitethorn. 

How the hell was Aedion supposed to deal with that? How was he supposed to compete with that? Though part of him does acknowledge it was less about Rowan and more about the hug. Because, very simply, Aedion doesn’t remember feeling a hug like that. 

Not one that made him race away from the safety of his cousins, hurtling across cobblestones as a sob ripped from his chest. Never had he flung his whole weight at someone with the complete faith that they would catch him and hold him just as fiercely. 

He had certainly never cried in someone’s arms.

At least, that’s what he had tried to tell himself that night. 

Because he had been held, and he had cried, and he had trusted like that once. But all of that was taken away and now. Well what was there now? It was his parents who should have held him first, who should have been there for his first nightmares, soothed his first cries, and been the first people he sought out. Both his parents were gone. They were supposed to be gone.

His mother hadn’t had a choice in the matter. Though in his youth he had resented her. Not for dying, though part of him secretly had, but for not speaking of his father. For not giving Aedion the chance to know him. Or at least know of him.

Age unfortunately brought wisdom. 

And a fuck ton of memories.

Of parents watching their children starve, of children being left behind because they were too slow to run. Sometimes he longed to experience the way a mother so desperately fought against the soldiers for the sake of her child. To experience the love that a drove a elderly man out of his home, to defend his adult child. 

Then he had seen the other side.

The wife beaters, the rapists, the soldiers who should have been slaughtered but somehow survived. He saw the way some parents treated their children. People who had no right raising a child. Those that shouldn’t have been trusted with freedom let alone another’s life. 

So Aedion had assumed his mother had a good reason. That his father was some worthless nobody at best, perhaps a low ranking soldier that would have only bought her and Aedion shame. At worst, Aedion envisioned a twisted face, pinning his mother down and burdening her with Aedion and memories of pure pain. 

In a way she was protecting him. 

If anything Aedion has heard and Aelin has said is true then it was the only way to keep Aedion safe. 

He didn’t care about that now. Not when he had a name.

Gavriel.

Gavriel

He mouthed the name silently. Letting each letter fall heavy on his tongue. It felt strange. Stranger still the longer he kept repeating it. 

Gavriel

Aedion dragged out each sound. Pronouncing the name in different way. Trying them on for size. His father, of course, had other names. One whispered round campfires and told in legends and tales. Stories that Aedion had grown up on. 

The Lion.

At least in that regard Aedion can match his father. The Wolf of the North. It somehow pleases and repulses Aedion to find the parallel. That childish part of him loves it. The other… well the other has had a long fucking night.

The Lion, blood sworn to Maeve.

Blood-sworn.

For a moment. Just a moment there he thought that Aelin would be his new– well there would have to be an old for there to be a new. And Aedion knew that some of his expectations and dreams were downright ridiculous. But Aelin had started fulfilling them. She was just as stunning, and protective, and loyal as he had dreamed. 

So part of him had hoped that the two of them would– would support each other. They both lost parents young, and had no family left beyond each other. Aedion had always dreamed they would be siblings.

Then she had held him, and they had cried, and they trusted each other enough to swap life stories and battle plans.

Except Aelin hadn’t trusted him.

No. She had trusted Rowan and now Aedion was…

He was nothing. He was nothing without that blood oath. Without it he was just a general. Just Adarlan’s Whore. Nothing more than a blood traitor untrusted by his Queen. Barely even a landless prince of the Ashryver line, considering the title meant nothing now.

He was just some stupid soldier, sat out on the roof taking first watch.

At least… he was taking a watch now. He hadn’t been. Not when sleep had come for him.

It was no wonder when Aedion dreamt of them. Of the people he had loved and lost. It was like some sick play torturing him over and over again. It had started the same. That very dream still plaguing him from childhood. 

A faceless mother, racing through the woods.

Sometimes he saw flashes of golden hair, other times he was frozen in place by blue-gold Ashryver eyes. Aedion never knew what was chasing his mother. Sometimes she was carrying him, his body small and aching as she gripped him too tight in fear. Other times the thorns and branches clawed at his legs as she dragged him along.

Worse were the times when he was the one chasing her. His throat hoarse as he desperately screamed out for her. Begging her to wait. To take him with her. 

It was like that.

Not this time.

This time his heart was racing out of his chest. A thunderous beat that echoed through his chest and roiled his stomach. It was sickening yet he couldn’t move. Aedion did nothing but stand there, chest heaving for breath as each inhale brought a sharp sting of pain. Distantly he could taste the coppery tang of blood in mouth. Could smell the cuts that marred his arms and legs.

But it was the pricking of hairs at the nape of his neck that had him gasping. Whirling in place as he stumbled back. There was nothing there. He couldn’t see anything through the dark wood. Shadows had descended at some point, turning tall pines into jagged marks against a dark sky.

There was nothing to see, nothing to hear over the roaring of his pulse.

Aedion doesn’t remember running. Only the echoing twang of bow, or the crack of a whip driving him forwards. It was an effort to stay up right. Made harder every time he hurtled into one of those dark trees. 

The cold nipped at his heels, urging him faster and faster as he raced through the wood. The same dark forest that Aelin had run through all those years ago. 

He could hear it now. Whatever was chasing him. The same creature that has pursued his mother all those years ago. He could hear its panting breath. Deeper and more controlled than his own sharp breaths. It was getting closer. Heavy footfalls shook the ground beneath him, unsettling his balance and booming louder than the blood rushing in his ears.

There was nothing he could do. The only thing there was to do was run. A race against a faceless predator. One defined only by flashes of gold out of the corner of his eyes. 

He doesn’t know when it happened. When the blood rushing through his ears begins to echo the waters racing below him. It’s been a long time since he had seen the darkened gorge. In the darkened light the rough rock faces leered down upon the onyx waters below. It had been decades since it had swallowed his little cousin whole. 

Yet here he was. Running flanked by the beast that ruined his mother and the river that stole his cousin. 

Maybe he was growing delirious by this point. Exhaustion crawled into his bones as he stumbled again and again. Each step landed heavy, no longer light with fae grace but halting as the human blood weighed him down. It wasn’t long till his body gave out. Till Aedion was forced into the mud coating the top of the cliff ledge.

He could hear that cursed river waiting behind him. Urging him to roll back and fall into its depth. It might be a more merciful fate than facing the creature leering at him ahead. It’s great gold paw stalking closer and closer as it tracked every breath he took.

Aedion could hear its snarls. But his head weighed heavier and heavier until he dropped, unable to even look up at the lion stalking him. 

It was inevitable. Yet still Aedion was left waiting for it to pounce.

He couldn’t look at it. Not in the face at least. No. Aedion just stared and stared at those thick claws digging deeper and deeper into the mud as it prowled closer. A faceless beast, starved before it’s next meal.

There was no warning. Only a sharp pain in his chest as claws sunk deep into his heart, forcing him back and back until–

Aedion woke with a gasp, chest heaving as he clawed at his throat, forcing himself further and further back. His legs scrabbled for purchase, stumbling against the loose rocks beneath his feet as he laid out on his back. He could feel himself shaking, his own fear choking him as he stumbled further and further away from the pitiful shelter he had found himself at the top of the flat roof.

He reached back, hand slipping as he fell. For a second his breath caught. A shuddering stop as he peered other the ledge to the darked street below. So similar. So fucking similar to that drop into the river. Probably a similar height as well. 

Aedion laid there. Body half hung over the building edge as he desperately tried to breath through the shuddering terror that gripped his chest. The energy was quickly draining from his body, the panic still clouding his mind was unable to grip his body as his head dropped further and further over the weak gutter ledge meant to stop water and not stupid males.

He’s given the warning of scuffed steps this time. Quick, rhythmic beats before he’s being dragged further into the centre of the roof by a cursing male. Aedion lets his weight sag against Rowan, the male immediately shift his grip to accommodate him before unceremoniously dropping him by brick hatch.

“The hell were you thinking.” Rowan snaps, dragging him upright until his sitting against the stairwell door. “One fucking argument with your Queen and you react like this?”

Aedion makes no move to answer him. He’s not sure he could when he’s still desperately sucking in air like he’d been drowned for hours.

“Ashryver.”

His lolls to the side but a hand is immediately there, tilting his gaze back up to the cold face above him.

“Aedion.”

He blinks. 

“Aedion.” Rowan calls again, voice firm and commanding. He recognises that tone. Is unable to do anything but sit up straighter and answer the general before him. “Look at me.”

He does. 

“I need you to match your breathing with mine.” Rowan instructs. He picks up Aedions limp hand and holds it against his chest. For a second Aedion just watches the way his hand rises and falls against Rowan's exaggerated breaths. “Breath in, Aedion.”

There’s that command again. Once again, Aedion follows his orders. Breathing in and out in time with Rowan’s breaths. He has no idea how long they sit there. How long Rowan stays crouched by his side, counting his breaths until his chest once again rises slow and steady on its own.

Eventually his hand drops down and Rowan leans back on his heels. The warrior takes him in. At any other time or day Aedion would snarl in his face, would snap at the blatantly assessing gaze that Rowan drags over his body. He would have been insulted. He had spent years, a decade, honing his craft. Creating his personna and playing the part of the fearless, wild and brash general. The one without nightmares, or fears, or–

“What happened.” It should be a question. But Rowan’s quiet tone as he sinks into a seat position opposite Aedion is nothing but commanding. There’s nothing but expectation in that voice. 

Aedion doesn’t answer him. He might be exhausted, and he might be a soldier, but he won’t be taking orders from Rowan Whitethorn anytime soon.

“Aedion.” Rowan’s teeth flash in the dark of night.

“You know my family better than I do.” 

He doesn’t know where the words come from. Only that they sour and rushed as they fall from his tongue. Rowan’s expression doesn’t flicker. It just remains that calm and blank facade that blocks out any and all thoughts and opinions he might have. 

“Probably can’t consider them family,” Aedion muses, leaning his head back to stare at the stars. “Not when I don’t know them and they don’t me.”

“Aelin was right,” Rowan states, voice level as his eyes bored into where Aedion had unconsciously bared his throat when he leaned back. “Having Gavriel as a father changes nothing. Not unless you want it to.”

“But have you around does.” Aedion chuckles. It's a dark and bitter sound. He peers down at where Rowan is staring at him. The male is infuriatingly calm. He’s probably dealt with the shit a thousand times over the course of his life. Is used to being judged and projected upon by stupid naive soldiers. “You have single handedly managed to do everything that I spent decades trying to achieve– in a matter of weeks.”

Rowan blinks down at him, for a second it seems the male hesitates. Sensing that Aedion refers to more than the blood oath.

Aedion laughs again, feeling slightly delirious. 

“The only reason Evalin and Rhoe took me into their home was because of the blood oath.” It was as if a deep sadness had taken root in his chest. “My mother had already asked someone else to raise me, someone she trusted to devote their whole lives to the purpose of benign my surrogate mother.”

Because Evalin and Rhoe ruled a Kingdom, and had an heir to raise. They barely had enough time for their own daughter let alone Aedion.

“But Evalin insisted on taking me in.” His voice felt far away from his body. “It was made very clear from an early age that I was to be her blood sworn.”

Aedion snorts, remembering how Rhoe would seem pleased whenever he fought Ren and won.

“There were two of us. Ren and I, who were being considered for the role. We were best friends at one point but by the time we turned 12 we were brawling in the castle hallways. Every fight instigated out of a need to be the best. To prove that we were the one who deserved the blood oath.”

He wonders if Rhoe is up there in the stars. Evalin always spoke of such magical and fanciful things but the warrior-king was never one to believe in such tales.

“No one stopped you from fighting.” Rowan asked, well, stated. He always seemed to be stating things.

“Rhoe was always pleased when I won.”

Rowan tilted his head to the side. The move was purely animalistic curiosity. “The loss of the blood oath has upset you this much?” For the first time in the whole evening it finally sounded like Rowan was asking a question.

“I devoted my whole childhood to her.” Aedion frowned as he thought back on the happiest time of his life. “I was five when Evalin was pregnant– I never left her side. I had a cot in Aelin’s room when she was baby.”

Aedion grins, lighting up at the fights he had with Rhoe and Evalin. 

“Granted, that wasn’t their intention, but I always snuck in at night to keep her company. They gave up locking the doors after I tried to climb the side of the tower to get to her.”

“You were five.” Rowan’s voice was flat but Aedion could swear that amusement shone in his eyes. 

“I was six by this point and I made it to the second floor thank you very much.” Aedion grinned at the general, and for a second they shared a comradeship that Aedion had lost when he was separated from the Bane.

But his expression dropped as he thought of all he did for Aelin. Of how much he devoted himself to her, only for it to be cast aside.

“I learnt how to braid hair for when she was older. I played whatever games she wanted, whether it was dress up, tea parties, or racing around the forest. None of the other kids wanted to play with her.” Even after all these years he still clenched his jaw at the thought. “They were terrified of her. Whether it was because she was a princess or because of her power. Either way, she had no friends.”

“Aside from you.” 

“And I had no friends aside from her.”

Aedion met Rowan’s gaze, and froze at the sad understanding that openly lined the males expression.

“Your world cannot revolve around Aelin.” Rowan murmured, voice soft and calm as Aedion immediately tensed at the prospect. “That is not what she needs from you, and that is not the life you deserve.”

“And what exactly do I deserve, Prince?” The title comes out with a soft bite, one that Rowan ignores.

The male just stares at him with a soft look, eyes far away as he pictured some other place and time.

“There is more to life than devotion to one’s Queen.” Something seemed to still in Maeve’s former bloodsworn as he said the words aloud. “Swearing your soul away to one person, one cause, is crippling. This world has more to offer than wars, duty and orders.”

Rowan twists his head, the movement so minute that Aedion nearly misses him shaking off whatever memory the male found himself trapped in.

“You are young, Aedion.” Rowan states firmly, and Aedion tries not to bristle at the condescension as the male rises to his feet. Aedion stares up at the general looming over him “There is more to experience in life than duty. One day you will experience that, and you will find a purpose– one that allows you to love and live your life as you please.”

“If we win this war.” 

“When.” Rowan counters, reaching a hand out to help Aedion rise to his feet.

A/N: This is my first TOG fanfic, and it is borne out of a desperation to read more about Aedion and Cadre after finding so little on AO3. I’m open to any angsty or Aedion based requests. Let me know what you think of the first chapter!

Chapter Text

Aedion

He was back in his cell again. Vision swimming as every breath came with a glorious agony. It wouldn’t be long now, the infection had spread, riddling his body with rot. Soon. So very soon. Even now he could feel Death squatting in the corner of his cell. It’s dark gaze tracking Aedions every breath, counting them down. 

After a while he had gotten used to the feeling of being stalked. Had grown comforted by Death’s haunting presence. It meant his end was near. But still, Death had not come for him, but Death did hunt him; a lion waiting to pounce. Which is how Aedion knew, without looking, that Death was waiting for him in that shadowy corner.

Once he would have looked over and smiled at those shadows. A silent gratitude shining in his eyes as he willed Death to take him soon, to embrace him quicker than the date of his execution. 

The cell door swung open with a grating screech. The noise built and built, louder in pitch and length than any other time before it swung hard against the stone wall with a resound clang. It wasn’t Dorian that stood before him this time. Though it wasn’t Dorian back then, it was nothing more than a Valg prince. 

No, this time it was Aelin, his Queen, who leered down him with an onyx collar wrapped around her neck.

– – – – – – –

Aedion woke with a gasp, memories of torture and death following him into his waking hours. It sent him stumbling, reeling from bed as he lurched out his room and to the bathroom. Aedion had scarcely slumped to the ground before he was hurling his guts up into the toilet. Each heave shook his body, bringing trembling waves that prickled at his skin. 

He was acutely aware of the sweat clinging to his forehead, to his neck and back. Of the clothes scratching against his skin and tightening against his body. 

Gods above he hated this palace.

Three nights, they had been in this wasteland for three nights. It should have been some comfort, to hide behind the great glass wall around the stone castle. A reminder of the obscene wealth and power that had been toppled and shattered. But it made no difference to Aedion. He had never been welcomed in the glass palace, he had always been trapped in the stone underground. 

So here he was, once again, for the second time in his life, feeling like Adarlan’s prisoner.

He truly had thought he would be fine. Enough so that he had agreed to share a room complex with Lysandra, Rowan, and Lorcan. Not that he had seen Lorcan. The only reason Aedion even knew the male was apparently staying with them was because Rowan told him. 

Rowan who had insisted that they all stay in the same location, none of them more than a minute from Aelin’s rooms. A defensive strategy he said. One that had the fae male finding Aedion the past two nights curled up in the bathroom.

Even now he can hear the soft padding of footsteps. Quiet, yet he knows them to be intentionally loud to allow Aedion time to adjust to his presence.

That does little to reassure Aedion. 

He’s being watched. And he really hates the feeling of having eyes on him, of being stalked like he felt Death do. Aedion keeps his head bowed low, curled over the toilet bow as he avoids looking up. It’s not like there’s anywhere else for him to go, to escape from the shadows that seem to watch him at every turn. So of course, in typical Aedion fashion that’s all he can focus on.

At first it’s fine, he can focus on the hard floor beneath his arse, the stench of vomit and the tingling in his hands. But then he can feel a hand pressed against his should,the warmth seeping through his sleep shirt and burning into his skin.

He flinches, moving away from that touch even as he feels himself becoming less and less grounded.

“Aedion?”

Aedion might be gasping, struggling to breathe. But his panic only grows as he struggls to recognise the voice calling for him.

“Aedion?” The male’s voice has gone soft, cautious. “Kid, are you hurt?”

There might be real worry in his voice but Aedion is trembling and the male sinks down to crouch by his side, allowing Aedion to feel the heat radiating off his body. It has him flinching away again before freezing.

He’s in the cell again. Poison burning through his veins.

The grounding technique that a former commander once taught him is coming with little success as every touch, sound and scent begins to overwhelm him. Aedion feels himself slump back against the wall, eyes closed as he lets the male do whatever the fuck he wants.

It would be the first time he’s left himself so vulnerable. Allowed men and women to do whatever they please with him so long as they let him drift off into his mind. 

Burning heat pushes against his leg, the side of his arm and– and the underside of his jaw. It itches and burns. Aedion trembles writhing on the floor as the fire begins to eat him. He remembers the war camp, the first one he ever stayed at, the campfires and pyres. 

He remembered sitting around that camp-fire. He remembered the pyres where they burnt the bodies more clearly.

It was so bright. Luscious flames flickering in the darkness, when he was little he thought the fire was dancing, curling around itself as it burned brighter and brighter, devouring the wood beneath.

He remembers Rhoe pulling him away from a campfire once, when they were out hunting. A hunting trip with a few of the older males in charge of the young boys, the ones earmarked for the blood-oath, even if the boys hadn’t known it yet. Rhoe had taken him with them, a mark of honour to show who the crown favoured for the oath. But it was as if Rhoe could feel the way fire sung to Aedion, the way he couldn’t help but watch its beauty. It was transfixing, every changing yet perfectly predictable in colour.

They had cooked hares and owls and the one great buck they had managed to catch over that fire. He had burnt his piece. Spent too long watching the way the flesh bubbled and browned.

He had burnt his finger touching that meat, flinching back as the black clumps clung to his hands, smoothing the flesh. 

It had been so small yet so consuming. A single point of pain for a full body flinch.

There’s no smoke or air to be found, just pure molten heat and he prays to whatever deity to let him breathe. To stop the burning ache in his chest.

Except when it stops it's worse. 

Because Aedion can feel it now, the rot coating his skin. Dragging through his veins as it races to his heart. It’s a thick oppressive weight that drags at his skin. He claws at it, desperately scratching at his arm, his neck, anything to get that– that sludge out of him.

But he can't, he can't move his hand. Something stops him.

He’s flailing, kickin out, trying to crawl away from Death. From Rhoe. Or maybe he’s crawling towards him. He needs to find Aelin. If there’s fire then his cousin must be here.

“ Aedion.”

He struggles, clawing at himself, at the thing holding him but his movements are sluggish, his mind foggy and Death’s empty eyes are staring at him in the dark.

He stumbles, mind halting as he begins to look around. 

The dirt and stone was hard beneath him, just as sharp and uncomfortable as Aeidon remembered. The brown-blue hue of the stone was just the same, towering chunks that leaned forward the higher they got, encroaching in his space, trapping him in. Even the shadows remained the same. Barred by the small window that let a meagre section of light leak into his cell.

Why was he back in the cell? He should be dead, why hadn’t the infection killed him yet. In the corner he could see the shadow. Aedion called out to it. Asking why he had not taken him yet.

Death gave him no answer, it never did. 

“Aedion.”

Death sounded sweet with concern.

“Commander!”

He wakes up with a smothered yell, instinct forcing him to rise at the summons, but a hand presses over his mouth, forcing him backwards, straight into a hard body. He kicks uselessly, eyes wild as he tries to break free from the arms banding around his chest. 

“Breath! Aedion it's me.”

He attempts to stand, a fawn struggling to pull his legs under him. But those arms pull him back down, cradling him between a pair of legs and locking him in place. 

He can’t move. He can’t move.

Somewhere a door opens, a familiar voice muffled outside.

“Let him go, Lorcan.” Someone snaps from above him, authority dripping from his tone. 

It wasn’t a question, it was an order.

But, Lorcan– Aedion didn’t know a Lorcan. Or at least not personally. The only Lorcan he knew was Maeve’s bloodsworn. The legendary warrior. So maybe he did know a Lorcan. He thinks he does. Head shifting to the side he presses against the chest behind him, sinking down till most of his body is on the cold floor.

When did he get so hot? He feels feverish.

“Aedion, I need you to copy my breathing.” 

Rowan.

He would know that male’s voice anywhere, would recognise his commanding tone. 

There's a hand on his back, rubbing in smooth circles. He vaguely registers that his arms are banded around something, that he’s shifted onto his side to half face the person holding him. 

“Rowan?” He croaks out, voice thick and the circles on his back pause.

“Right here, pup.” Alex struggles to rise, faltering enough that he starts to panic again. “It’s okay, it’s just Lorcan. I need you to focus on me right now.”

“Breathing techniques, really?”

Rowan snarls, “they work, and he doesn’t need your bullshit judgement right now”

“Where–?” Aedion whispers, pulling back to stare at the males in bewilderment.

He looks around, taking in the bathroom they’re satin. Distantly, Aedion registers Lorcan letting him go, allowing him to tip to one side. Rowanis there in seconds to prop him up as he sits back. Backing into a corner of the bathroom, one shrouded in the shadows he had once feared, he finally takes in the guarded expression on the males face.

Well, the guarded expression on Lorcan’s face as he rises to his feet and slowly backs away from Aedion until he can lean against the open doorway. He ignores Rowan for now, focusing on the unknown factor.

“Do you know where we are?” Rowan asks, voice soft and soothing in a way that Aedion hadn't heard before.

“Bathroom.” He mumbles, looking around as he tries to place his thoughts. “We–” 

What were they doing here again? He remembers being led from his cell but– no. He was falling from his bed. 

“Do you remember what happened?”

Oh. Oh .

Aedion clears his throat, straightening up as he tries to stretch out his tense muscles.

“Right, of course.” His voice comes out hoarse, he must have been screaming. He really hopes he wasn’t. But…

Aedion stares at Lorcan, who’s now sat in the opposite corner of the bathroom, perching on the sink counter. The male’s clothes are ruffled, out of place and damaged. His expression remains the same. Guarded but– but there’s that look in his eyes, one of concern.

“Aedion.” Rowan calls and there’s that soft voice, the one Aedion hasn’t heard before today. Now he’s got to hear it twice. God, he must really look like a wreck if both Rowan and Lorcan pity him. “Tell me what happened.”

Aedion bristles, switching his gaze to Rowan so the male can feel the full weight of his displeasure. Rowan, of course, is unmoved by his irritation.

“It’s fine.” His voice comes out hoarse, barely loud enough to be heard. The males being fae have no trouble hearing his dismissal. “I’m okay now, sorry for waking you up.”

Lorcan scoffs, looking away from Aedion in displeasure.

Aedion frowns, confused as to why the male is even here.

“It’s not fine, Aedion.” Rowan’s voice is firm but it still retains that soft quality. “You were tearing at your own skin.”

“I’ll be fine once we're done here.” He amends, and Rowan’s eyes narrow on him.

“Really,” Lorcan drawls, his dark gaze burrowing into the side of Aedion’s head. “Because I distinctly recall having to keep you pinned down so that you wouldn’t tear open your own throat.”

Aedion bristles, straightening up in an attempt to salvage anything of his dignity. So they saw everything then. Lorcan was here the whole time. It had been years since he last had such a bad episode.

“What's going on?” Rowan asks, concern openly lining his face. “This isn’t something you can keep to yourself.”

“I know.” Aedion bites out. “I’ll be fine once we leave this palace.”

“What’s so bad about this place, then?” Lorcann queries, twisting his words till they sound mocking enough that Rowan shoots him a glare. Lorcan only shrugs back at his former comrade. “What? I’m genuinely concerned about the health of Gavriel’s boy.”

Gavriel’s boy.

The words echo around his head. For a moment, with these two males before him, he can see another life. One where Gavriel had found him and raised him as his own. A life where he had uncles. 

But that wasn’t his childhood.

“Do you have any idea how many executions I have witnessed in this palace?” Aedion grinds out, suddenly enraged by all that he had to endure at such a young age when he could have had these powerful males keeping him safe. “How many death warrants for my people that were signed here, the number of times that my soldiers and I have been imprisoned in these cells, led to the execution block?”

It’s a miracle that he keeps his voice level. That he doesn’t work himself into an angered, shouting mess. But gods he’s so tired.

“Boo hoo.” Lorcan snaped and Rowan whirled on his former commander, “What’s the real reason.”

Rowan stilled as Lorcan took a step forward, his dark eyes glaring down at Aedion.

“You’re a general for gods’ sake, and if you’re anything like Gavriel, or like Rhoe, then you can handle your shit.” Lorcan bares his teeth. “And you have been doing so for the past decade, so what changed boy .”

Because he was a boy to them. Nothing more than a child handling his first real issues. In the face of what they had seen and endured, his problems must have seemed pathetic.

“Well?” Lorcan demands, arms crossed as he towers over the General Commander of the Bane. “I can’t very well face Gavriel if—”

“I was supposed to kill myself in this castle.” Aedion confesses, a soft frown rippling his features as both males go unnaturally still before him. “Sure, I was going to be executed in a couple of days anyway but the rebels needed a martyr.”

And he was the perfect figure.

“A general and a prince.” Aedion mused, “It would have been a compelling story. A short life cut off to inspire others.”

It was as if neither male dared to breathe as Aedion spoke, and he wondered if either of them had ever considered ending it all during their long existence.

“I’ve always been acutely aware of my death.” He tilts his head to the side, remembering a conversation between Rhoe and Evalin. “Even when I was a boy I had already sworn to take my immortal life when Aelin’s mortal life flickers out.”

Rowan’s eyes darkened, his expression shuttering as he too thought of the possibility that Aelin would die long before either of them. 

“Then there were the slave camps, and the experiments– do you know what it’s like to have your blood pumped with iron?” Aedion turned to the males, suddenly sounding more awake and focused even as both warriors stared back with carefully impassive expressions. “I lost so many childhood friends to Adarlan’s experiments. His attempts at removing and stealing magic.”

“They thought children stood the best chance of healing and surviving the process.” Aedion answered their unasked questions. “And adults would have been too strong.”

It would have been an impressive feat to be able to steal and use someone else’s power. Aedion had only ever heard of such instances when the Carranam bond was involved. But it seems the king was hoping to find a quicker and easier way.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep living with no end in sight.” Aedion confesses, voice no louder than a sharp exhale. Only loud enough for the fae to hear. “How do you do it?”

He stares up at the males, every bit the scared and confused boy he is.

“How do you live in the face of eternity?”

Lorcan steps closer, crouching down by Rowan’s side. 

“You find a reason to keep living.”

A/N: These are designed to be angst fest, so don’t expect too many resolutions. However, I’m hoping the “+1” oneshot will be able to provide something of a ending.

Chapter Text

Aedion

Quite frankly he was getting tired of all this crap getting brought up over and over and over again. There seemed to be no relief from his tormentors. Not even travelling leagues across the sea to Skull’s Bay seemed to save him from the ever present reminder of his past. A point certainly not helped by Lysandra’s and Dorian’s presence. Both were a physical, tangible reminder of what he had endured at Adarlan’s hands.

Aedion did hold some modicum of pity for the young king. He wasn’t so blinded by grief and rage that he couldn’t see how undeserving the Adarlan citizens were of a Witch Queen rule. Though no such leader had been named. Only that Rifthold was under the control of the witches, with their foot soldiers guarding the roads, gates and docks. No one left that cursed city without their knowledge.

Even now, days after Rifthold had fallen, Dorian still looked worn down and sickly. That of course, might have something to do with that horrific tanline marring his throat. Or perhaps the grief of losing his father, and then finding out who his father really was… and then losing that connection as well.

Honestly it was a shit storm for the king.

One that unfortunately made Aedion sympathise with the young man. He knows what it is like to have one’s entire world come crashing down. It was hard not to look at Dorian and see himself, to not let the memories of that dark time come crashing down around him. 

And Lysandra, gods the strength of that woman. 

It had been agony to wait with her in the alley way. To watch how casually she paraded herself in that sensuous form. Every touch she brushed against him had his skin burning, a thick sickening weight resting heavy in his chest. 

Naturally it was Dorian sent to check up on them. It had taken everything in Aedion to not outright snarl at the male. A familiar defensive urge rising to the surface when the king had scanned Lysandra head to toe as though he were surveying goods. How quickly Dorian had morphed into every other Adarlan lord and lady in Aedion’s mind. How quickly he had taken on the skin of every abus– every mission and trade deal Aedion had made.

For all intents and purposes the king had been the shapeshifter in that moment. Wearing the face of every lecherous official Aedion had ever had to play nice with.

Lysandra hadn’t understood. How could she? Aedion had never told her, never told anyone what he had endured. 

Adarlan’s Whore.

Aelin may have suspected that the name was more than just an insult thrown his way. More than a mocking title. An actuality, an apt description of he had served Adarlan and Dorian’s court. 

It was hard not to see the king and roar. 

To scream.

A thought only broken by Lysandra kicking his leg, bringing him back to the present with a harsh glare as she reprimanded him. It was all he could do to gape at her, mind drifting as he took in her words.

Violated.

That's how she had described the king. What the Valg prince had done to him, when he had crawled inside Dorian’s mind and feasted on every memory and thought while puppeteering the king’s body. Torture, it had been pure torture, with every second of his existance spent waiting for his end. Aedion could at the very least relate to that. He could still feel death watching him from the shadows at times. Stalking him through the night as it waited for Aedion to stumble so it could take the life owed.

But he couldn’t forgive Dorian. Not yet, not when it was all so fresh. 

Stupidly he had told Lysandra that it was about Aelin. That it was because Dorian stabbed her. And sure, part of it was that. Though even that had a larger meaning of Dorian nearly killing Aedion’s sole family member, and taking away everything he has worked for and dreamed of since he was boy. There was that part as well. 

But… violated.

Is that how he felt as a young brash soldier? Bedding males and females at their whims and not his. He doesn’t remember complaining, let alone protesting, though he hardly remembers anything from those early wars. An intentional act supported by his downright excessive drinking sprees.

And tortured.

Well Aedion certainly knew what the bite of a blade felt like. He intimately knew the details of many cells. Including the one that Kyllian and The Bane had rescued him from. That cesspit that he hadn’t told Aelin about. Couldn’t bring himself to. She needed to know, he knew she did, but there were so many less detailed reports on those blasted monstrosities. 

She didn’t need to hear his personal account of those experiments. Of those violations that he witnessed. Not when it was clear that Rolfe was already aware of those sea-wyverns that had been borne and built in dark caves. When Dorian has seen those wyverns, creatures previously thought lost to time, racing overhead as they decimated his city.

But of course it was during this accursed meeting that Dorian had to go share the reports of ships from the Ferian Gap sailing down the Avery toward Rifthold. Their hulls carried strange soldiers and beasts that turned the city into their own personal hunting ground. Aedion knew what was being created and bred in those mountains. 

He knew what they were creating elsewhere. Kyllian had been smart enough to grab every report he could and Aedion had the misfortune of being taken to the one hell hole that had its gnarled fingers in many rotten pies. 

It hadn’t made sense at first. The only thing it had done was make his men too eager to burn the place to the ground. To remove any trace of what happened and take away what they had believed to be Adarlan’s sole… manufacturing site. It would make sense for it to be the only outpost conducting such trials, a conclusion supported by the wide range of activities going on. 

Then they had discovered the specialised outposts. They were right in one sense. Aedion was being held in the mother base, the main hub that all the… researches reported to. A base strategically positioned for how easily it was to transport their creation to Rifthold and out to sea. 

In the end, his men hadn’t brought that towering onyx crumbling to their feet. Instead he had lost eleven of his best soldiers while he and Kyllian barely escaped with their lives. 

Aedion could feel the weight of those lives on his shoulders, it was an effort to keep his gaze firmly on the reports before him. Focusing on the discussion between Rowan, Dorian and Aelin as they shared various reports and information.

He had no idea how such a large table had been brought into their rooms. Only that it was clearly stolen from the bare below based on the faded gold lettering of “Windchaser” painted onto the wood slats. War Trophies from Rolf’s exploits, the hulls of enemy ships turned into tables for his men to drink over.

The five of them struggled to fit round the table, all of them sat at a pace back with reports covering their laps. Where they got this number of physical sheet-reports and maps Aedion doesn't know. He only knows that Aelin contributed an outstanding number of small knives to pin down the sprawling map on the table, and that the loose change marking ship movements had come from his pockets. 

“Well at least we know Rolfe’s map works.” Aelin sighs, glaring down at the sheet before her. It had been Rowan’s idea to send Lysandra and him into the alley way with the amulet. 

“He’s terrified of the valg.” Lysandra comments, seemingly picking up on whatever thought Aelin had left off. “That’s why he got the maps in the first place.”

Aelin hummed in agreement, throat bobbing with the sound and Aedion tried to ignore the way Rowan gaze tracked the subtle movement.

“What of the other…” Dorian trails of, gesturing with an elegant wave of his hand his own lack of knowledge.

“Abominations?” Aedion supplied, voice bitter enough that four sharp gazes cut towards him. That fae part of him stilled at their attention, recognising it as a threat. “What? Rolfe said the sea-wyverns were made.”

And modelled after the great beast depicted in the murals at Ilium. The ones Aelin had cleaned with fire for Lysandra to see and study. He could see his cousin’s plan clearly there. Probably the first and only plan of hers that he can understand. A sea-dragon. One strong enough to take on the sea-wyverns, if Lysandra could muster the strength and skill to make such a change that is.

“The reports made no mention of what the beasts were?” Aelin directed her question to Dorian, regret flickered in her eyes when the king seemed to pale at her words. “More wyrd-hounds?”

The king shrugged, years of training making the movement smooth and princely, “Just that they were hunting through the city at night and a few errant details that can’t be verified.”

Aedion could hazard a few guesses but he never saw the true final result that made it out of those cells. He had only read reports of what was being bred in Morath.

But… There were only a few creatures he saw that loathed sunlight. Demons that took closely after the valg rather than their mortal blood aids. 

Aedion opened his mouth, fully intending on asking after those minor details but his stomach churned and–

He couldn’t do it.

Not when they would all know what he had seen. What he had been through.

Instead Aedion rose on surprisingly steady feet, though his hands did tremble. Again four gazes tracked his movements. Though only Rowan’s gaze spotted the tremor in his hands.

“I’m getting us some food.” He drawled, an easy smile coming onto his face as he stretched out his limbs. They’d grown stiff from how long they’d sat around the table. “There’s no way were making progress tonight without it.”

Aelin nodded, shuffling papers into neater piles. She tossed a pouch of coins to him before waving Aedion off. He kept his steps slow and steady as he reached for the door.

“I’ll come with you.”

Of course he fucking would. Because Aedion cannot seem to escape Dorian and the history of Adarlan today.

The pair are silent as they walk down the hallway, Aedion takes the stairs two at a time in an attempt to get further away from the king. Dorian follows at leisurely pace, making no complaint when Aedion takes lead and starts ordering on the group's behalf. It’s only once they both leant against the bar, with a pint of Ale each to keep them company while they wait that Dorian finally turns to him. 

The king doesn’t speak. Aedion holds his gaze, in a new mood to deal with the clearly assessing look he’s being given.

“You’re angry with me.” Dorian states, nodding to himself and if the way his expression shutters he’s using Aedion’s hatred to fuel his own self loathing. “You have every right to be.”

“I do.” Aedion agrees, because he’s had a long fucking day but Lysandra’s words seem to haunt him. Encouraging him to play nice. “But you’re not the naive brat you once were.”

Dorian blinks owlishly. Surprise was clear in his expression. The barmaid returns, shuffling further away from them to polish glasses, yet still close enough to hear their conversation. This wasn’t the place for them to have this talk. 

Aedion sighed, knowing he had to give the prince– King something.

“It’s not you, I have a problem with Dorian.” He murmured, voice low. “It’s everything Adarlan did to me and mine. You just happen to be the poster boy for that kingdom.”

Dorian nodded, expression carefully going blank. 

The king moves to speak again but is cut off by the main doors swinging open. Aedion turns to see the hooded figure enter the dark pub, his footsteps chased by the howling winds and rain that batter the windows. He stiffens as that fae part of sense this male’s power, everything from his scent to sheer presence reeking of ancient magic.

Aedion shifts forward, blocking the male’s view of Dorian even as he carefully watches that dark hood pull back to reveal tanned skinned and blonde long blonde hair. Fenrys. The Wolf. 

The male stares back at him with a grin that’s more of a baring of teeth.

“Tell Aelin we have a visitor.” Aedion drawls to the king behind him. Dorian mercifully doesn’t challenge the order, only slinks away up the stairs. 

“I’m not here for your queen.” Fenrys waves him off with an eye roll. “I wanted to meet Gavriel’s pup.”

Aedion snarls at the title. He straightens up as Fenrys steps closer, closer still as he swipes Dorian abandoned ale. The Wolf’s expression wrinkles at the taste, it's shit but it’s alcohol.

“I would have thought the prince would have more expensive tastes.” Fenrys meets his eyes as the tankard is set back onto the bar with a resound thud. Loud enough to catch the barmaid’s attention. She turns in time– “Leave us.”

She follows the order without question.

Aedion tenses. Rowan is no doubt on his way down, but even still his odds in this fight weren’t good.

“Relax, boy, I’m not here to start trouble.”

“Yet you always do.” Aedion tries not to sag with relief at Whitethorn's annoyed tone. The male comes to stand by his side, back straight and hands loose by his side while he glares down at his former brother in arms. “Fenrys.”

“Rowan.” The Wolf greets him jovially, lounging back against the bar, the perfect picture of feline grace. “Fancy seeing you here. I thought you would have been upstairs, warming the queen’s bed.”

Aedion snarls but Rowan barely twitches. 

“I think you have mine and your roles confused.” Rowan raises a brow, daring Fenrys to take the bait. 

He smirks.

“Have I really?” Fenrys hums, and Aedion waits with bated breath as the male’s eyes gleam. “It would explain why you’re so cranky, feeling a little pent up Rowan?”

Rowan does snarl this time, stepping forward to challenge the younger male. Aedion can feel his mind drift elsewhere. To another time and place. Fenrys’ sharp gaze cuts to him.

“Unless of course she wanted stronger ties than the blood-oath,” He arches a brow at Aedion. “Just blood perhaps?”

Aedion pales, a sick feeling growing in his stomach. Fenrys frowns, stiffening as he watches Aedion grip the bar counter with white knuckles. Rowan turns to him, annoyance with Fenrys momentarily forgotten as they both stare at the general of the Bane.

“Aedio–”

“I’m going to be sick.”

Rowan had one of the tobacco spittoon buckets before him with impressive speed. Fast enough to catch the bile that chokes off Aedion’s breath. There’s nothing to come up considering he was down here to get them all food.

“Fucks’ sake.” Fenrys snaps, voice dark and cold in a way that has Aedion shivering. “It was a goddamn joke, I didn’t think she would–”

“Aelin wouldn’t–”

“Then why is the boy dry heaving?” Fenrys snaps.

“I’m fine.” Aedion croaks and both males snarl at him, “Okay, not fine.”

“He came down for food, probably got–”

“Don’t change the topic.” Fenrys hisses, stepping closer to Rowan. “You don’t think I recognise that look in his eyes? Huh? I swear to the gods Rowan, your queen–”

“That is not what’s happening here.” Rowan’s voice comes out calm. Steady despite the accusations being thrown at Aelin. Aedion finds himself surprised by the level of care Rowan shows the male before them. “I swear it, Fenrys. I would not let that happen.”

Fenrys snarls, turning in place before storming from the dark tavern. 

For a second Rowan stares after him, guilt shining in his eyes and Aedion can only guess as to why Fenrys would understand his nightmares. Then that gaze is turned on him, though Aedion can see how Rowan keeps his expression guarded, dreading Aedion’s answer to the unasked question.

“Don’t tell Aelin.” Aedion whispers and Rowan’s expression shutters. “I’m not ready for her to know.”

A/N: Somewhere along the way I started worldbuilding… Also, I don’t know how Rowan keeps sneaking into these oneshots when I start them with the intention of being just one Cadre member. 

Anyways, this is kind of a part 1 for the Fenrys chapter, part 2 is set when they’re out at sea.

Chapter Text

Aedion

His rage became a song in his blood.

They sized him up, and Aedion flipped his sword again. Two against one – he might stand a chance.

That was when the third lunged from the shadows behind him.

— — — 

Aedion was sick of surprises

Sick of feeling his heart stop dead in his chest.

As it had when Gavriel had leaped to save his ass with the ilken, the Lion tore into them with a ferocity that had left Aedion standing there like a novice with his first practice sword.

• Empire of Storms, page 444 & 448

Even now he could hardly stand to look at Gavriel. Was too ashamed to face the warrior head on. Instead he fetched the pail of water Aelin had requested, setting it down by Fenrys’ side as he tried not to wince at the green poison oozing from his skin.

Gavriel was a few feet away from them, tending to a blubbering pirate who had barely more than a scratch on his thigh. 

Fenrys hissed, and Aedion moved forward at Aelin’s own grunt of pain. He crouched by her side, resting a hand at her back to offer the only support he could while her magic fought against the poison. 

He tried to ignore the familiarity of its stench. It was more potent now, no doubt perfected after years of trial and error.

“Can heal on my own,” Fenrys rasped, clearly picking up on the same strain in Aelin that Aedion had. “Help the others” – another pant – “I can handle it.”

Aedion snorted, Aelin didn’t lift her head at the sound but something eased in his chest at Fenrys’ annoyed glare.

“Please,” Aedion snapped at the Wolf, “Those claws were covered in Sanguis, you’ll never survive it without Aelin.”

His cousin deigned to glance up at him this time. There was a forced note to her voice as she used up more of her power, “You’ve seen this stuff before?”

Aedion recognised his mistake in a heartbeat. 

He had named the fucking poison.

He shrugged. An irreverent movement that did nothing to dissuade the males’ curious gaze. Fenrys was peering up at him, eyes narrowed and even Gavriel had turned away from the pirate he was treating.

“In passing.”

Lie.

“Liar.” Fenrys drawlled, glancing over his shoulder to the Lion. “Your boy is a liar.”

“I’ve never heard of Sanguis.” Aedion glanced over his shoulder. Rowan stalked toward him, expression blank as he stared Aedion down. 

Clearly he wasn’t getting out of this one.

Not when Aelin had finally chosen this moment to stop talking. Because of course she had. It was all well and good to keep Fenrys busy with questions about his childhood and the magic he wields. But we can’t do the same when Aedion needs saving can we?

He clears his throat, buying some time. 

“Sanguis means blood,” Gavriel comments, crouching down by Aelin’s side to inspect Fenrys’ wound. “In the old language of Terassen, yes.”

It wasn’t a question. These males really did enjoy their rhetorical questions.

“Yes.” Aedion answered anyway, throat bobbing as he remembered how the poison got its name. “My soldiers named it.”

Kyllian named it. He always wanted to name something. Though his friend was disappointed that he was naming a poison and not some kind of “cool creature with fangs and claws that he had bravely defeated”.

“It’s a shit name.” Fenrys hissed as the last of the poison was dragged from his system.

“Says the male knocked out by the poison.” Aedion can’t help but snap back, glaring down at the Wolf as he rises to his feet. 

“Where did you see the poison?” Rowan asks again, voice calm but Aedion prickled at the dark undertone. “There were no reports of the ilken in Adarlan of Terassen.”

“I was leading a rebel cause,” Aedion narrowed his eyes on Rowan. “We stole as many reports as we could get our hands on. Anything to do with what Adarlan and– well what Erawan had planned.”

“Yet this poison you knew from sight?” Rowan folded his arms across his chest, fixing Aedion with a gaze that would have sent him running a few years prior. But he endured torture, death, war and rebellion since then. He wasn’t some footsoldier cowering in his boots. “Knowledge which could have been shared with us sooner.”

Aedion clenched his jaw, “And how exactly was I supposed to know what would have been useful and wouldn’t? Which poisons the ancient fae had and hadn’t come across?” 

He snarled, suddenly incredibly, ridiculously pissed off at the male before him. The one who had comforted him after nightmares, and protected his queen, yet still didn’t trust Aedion.

“What exactly was I supposed to tell you, Prince.” He stepped closer to Rowan, ignoring the way Gavriel and Fenrys tensed behind him. “Should I have gone down the list every official, all 138 of them, and mentioned every name, alliance, dalliance, influence and favourite method of torture? Should I have listed every poison I encountered? Every beast slaughtered, and weapon held?”

He was practically panting, trembling with rage. 

Rowan stared back at him, stead fast even as the dying sun burned across his face.

“Where did you see the poison, Aedion?”

He opened his mouth, preparing to roar in the male’s face but–

“Enough” Aelin called, voice tired and low. “Both of you.”

“Aelin, if he knows–”

A vicious snarl rips from his queen’s lips, loud enough to have all the males flinching back with bowed heads.

“How dare you.” She whispered, voice dangerously quiet. “Leave, Rowan.”

Rowan’s eyes widened at the command.

“Go!” She snapped. “Anywhere else.”

His eyes hardened and then he was gone in a flash of light and feather.

Aedion could do nothing but stare with wide eyes at his cousin.

“You too.” 

He didn’t question her.

– – – – – 

It was a calm night despite the carnage of the day. The stars out in full force, lighting up the cloudless sky as Aedion paced along the deck. He was unable to sleep after the visions that had plagued him. They had gone away after he left Adarlan, just like he told Rowan, but Dorian’s presence seemed to bring them back up again. He had finally thought he was making some progress when–

“Can’t sleep.” He spun around, eyes wide as he took in the Wolf that had snuck up on him.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Fenrys shrugged as he carefully hobbled to a set of upturned crates. “Aelin will be pissed if you undo all her hard work.”

Fenrys made no effort to hide his sigh of relief as he sunk down onto what was probably a keg of ale. Aedion took a cautious step forward, glazing around and finding them alone. Most of the crew were below deck, leaving a skeleton crew above. Men who were no doubt exhausted after today’s attack, enough so that they wouldn’t take notice of two fae having a conversation.

For a while it seemed Fenrys was just content to sit back and watch the stars, breathing in the cool air that could barely be considered cold compared to Terrasen’s harsh weather. Aedion was happy to let him, instead turning back to the ship edge, bracing his hands on the railing as he stared out at the dark sea.

It could have been minutes, hours laters that Fenrys quietly confessed, “It was strange seeing another wear my skin.” He was still staring up at the sky when Aedion glazed over to him. “It was stranger still when my body failed me.”

“The poison is paralytic.” Aedion offered up, feeling the need to reassure the male that there was nothing he could have done. That it wasn’t a fault in him. That his body hadn’t failed, had only been overwhelmed. 

“Doesn’t numb the skin though.” Fenrys sucked on his teeth, face pinching as he glanced over to Aedion with such an open look that his breath caught in his throat. “I imagine it would be a good way to keep a fae trapped.”

Aedion stiffened.

“That’s why you knew what it was.” Fenrys carried on, unperturbed by his silence. “Though if your nightmares are anything to go by it wasn’t–”

“Stop.”

Fenrys stilled for all of a second before his shoulders hunched forward as he resented his elbows on his legs, toying with his hands for something to do. It was the most Aedion had ever seen a full blooded fae move.

“I recognised that look in your eyes, back in Skull’s Bay–”

“I told you to stop.”

“-You haven't told Aelin. Or anyone, I take it.” Fenrys keeps talking and Aedion can feel his heartbeat rising the longer the male talks. “The feeling of being held down, unable to control your own body.”

A dark bitter laugh.

“It would explain why you were so reluctant–”

“Do you ever shut up?” Aedion snarled, eyes wild as he glared at the Wolf. “Truly, can you never keep your mouth shut.”

“Rowan returned late.” Fenrys said instead, meeting Aedion’s gaze with no fear for his anger. “I overheard Aelin telling him that you had endured far more than either of them would ever know.”

Something stumbled in his chest. That desperate feeling of running skipping a few steps at the realisation. She knew. Aelin knew. Maybe not the details or even exactly what happened. But she could see how it affected him.

“I’m not saying this to be cruel, Aedion.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I’m here because I understand.” Fenrys’ skin had taken on an ashen pallor. “I know what it’s like, and seeing… seeing you and Lysandra and Dorian, and knowing how young you all are and how–”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then why do I know you can barely stand another’s touch?” The wolf’s voice had grown harsh, clearly displeased with how unresponsive Aedion was to his apparent support. “That Lysandra flinches when males come too near? Or how Dorian–”

“Why are you here?” Aedion demanded stepping closer and closer to the male. “Why the fuck are you out here, bothering me? What do you possibly hope to achieve?”

His expression shutters.

“I’m trying to do what I wish someone had done for me.”

“Well you’re talking yourself in circles and–”

“Was just the one person who raped you?” Aedion froze, breath catching in his throat as Fenrys stared at him with silver lined eyes. The Wolf’s voice comes out in a broken croak when he next speaks. “I know Lysandra had to endure many… patrons. But–”

“Don’t”

Fenrys nodded, accepting his answer. Aedion stepped back, stumbling step after step away until he was pressed against the railing again. His breath came in harsher and harsher pants. Until he had to press a hand against his chest and force himself to breath, counting each breath in and out as Fenrys watched on quietly. 

He waited until Aeidon caught his breath to murmur a quiet apology.

“I shouldn’t have brought it up after the nightmare you had.”

“What do you know of it?” Aedion asked roughly. What had he heard?

The Wolf shrugged, “I know that you begged them to stop, that you said you didn’t want to anymore. I know that I begged for the same thing, that I’ve begged for that many times.”

“Who?” 

Fenrys hesitated, eyes darkening and Aedion wondered if he had taken it a step to far, if he had made the conversation too real. 

“My queen, Maeve.”

“At the pub…” He trailed off and Fenrys nodded.

“You scared the shit out of me, boyo.” Fenrys laughed darkly, dragging a hand through those silken locks. “I don’t know if it was because you’re Gavriel’s son, or if it was because Aelin is this shiny beacon of hope.”

“The poison wasn’t from–” Aeidon hesitated, sounding tired and unsure to his own ears. “It wasn’t during… There was an experimentation camp, one like Morath in the Ferin Gap. I saw the poison there.”

Fenrys nodded, accepting the offering for the symbol of trust it was.

“Rowan didn’t mean to push.” Fenrys murmured, eyes suddenly unsure as they moved away from the topic. “You know how defensive he gets with Aelin.”

“And with you.”

Fenrys frowned and Aedion couldn’t help but chuckle at his dumbfounded expression.

“It was worry for you that had him snapping.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.” Aedion rolled his eyes, shrugging out his arms to relieve some of the tension that had built up in his neck. But… he cut the amusement from his expression, allow them to drift back to their conversation from before. “Rowan has… caught me unawares after a few nightmares himself.”

Fenrys nodded, catching onto his thoughts, “you trusted him and he snapped at you.”

Aedion nodded, acknowledging that he had been out of line.

“I know he meant no harm by it but it felt like he didn’t trust me. Like he was accusing me of something.” He turns away, unable to look at Fenrys as he continues. “Some part of me felt like I was being put on trial for all that I had endured.”

“The poison brought all that up?” Fenrys asked, worry clouding his eyes. “How bad was that place.”

Aedion hesitated, unsure if he wanted to continue. Only Kyllian and a few select members of the Bane knew what happened, and that’s only because they were the ones who dragged him out of that hell hole.

“They needed test subjects.” Aedion answered breathlessly, “And I was barely more than a footsoldier back then.”

Fenrys nodded, seeming to sense that Aedion was done for the night. That he had been pushed as far as he could bear. The Wolf rose to his feet, stretching out his limbs before moving to hobble back down into the cargo hold.

“Try and get some sleep, Aedion.”

He nodded, knowing full well that he wouldn’t.

A/N: I was thinking of writing a chapter with just Lorcan, does anyone have any requests / suggestions for when I set such a oneshot, or what the premise should be?

Chapter Text

Aedion

Two years since the war. Two down right exhausting years. They’d all spent months together in Orynth, working on rebuilding the city. It had taken a full month to account for the dead. Two months to have the worst of the rubble and gore moved from the main buildings. 

Within the year they had all spread out, Elide and Lorcan had travelled to Perranth, Darrow had returned to whatever hole he had crawled out of. Lysandra had been travelling back and forth between Orynth and Caraverre, working out what she wanted to do with the space. The only concrete decision she had made was that it would be a haven for the wild things. For the abandoned, chained and those now free.

It was one of those rare times when they were all in attendance for some meeting or another. Naturally, Aelin had been planning the after meeting party for weeks. Or rather, the after-after party, considering there would be plenty of festivities to welcome all the diplomats, lords, ladies and rulers of various kingdoms and empires.

Because unlike the usual times when they managed to have a conveniently planned meeting that required all of their presences, this event wasn’t contrived for their own attendance. Terassen had run out of its period of grace. An end to the honeymoon as Aelin had put it. Considering they were only just starting to get people and communities back up on their feet Aedion would argue against the past two times being deemed peaceful. 

However, in terms of international relations and links with other powerful nations they had certainly been quiet. Not to mention that other nations were no longer willing to provide aid without some form of give back. They’d been generous, or rather pitying, for continuing to support Terassen free of charge for two years instead of one. Support that they greatly needed and appreciated.

Which explained why the whole castle was in an uproar of preparations for the upcoming guests. Adarlan would be one of the first kingdoms to arrive, followed closely by delegates from Fenharrow, Eyllwe, Melisande, Wendyln, the Wastes and the various rulers and powerhouse of the Desert Lands, and quite frankly a list too long for Aedion to memorise. He had tried though, including the names and titles. 

He had also tried to ignore the awful nagging feeling in his chest at the reminder that he would be playing nice with. The lords and ladies of the neighbouring land who had refused to give aid to Terassen. To the king and queen of Eyllwe who had offered supplies in those first months before slinking into the background. Let alone the Fae delegates, the ancient warriors, the diplomats who had seen hundreds of wars, and had buried countless bodies, yet could not bring themselves to prevent a mass genocide.

Aedion would be meet those people in person soon. The ones he had dreamed of screaming at, the people he had raged at since he was a boy, the ones that ignored his begging, his calls for help, the ones whose words still appeared in his nightmares. 

He knew exactly who would be visiting.

And he was going to hate every second.

Because Aelin wasn’t naive enough to dismiss his history with these people. No his cousin could no doubt see the rage burning beneath his skin. She had planned accordingly. What Aedion hadn’t expected was for said plan to include The Cadre (patent pending because why the hell not - Aelin’s words not his) babysitting him for the entirety of the event.

Including Rowan.

Who is a king. The king hosting this very event.

Aedion wasn’t self centred enough to believe that he had actually garnered Rowan’s attention during such an important time. No, he was well aware that Rowan was taking this as an opportunity to catch up with his brothers and avoid the politicans for as long as he could.

“I thought you would be busy,” Vaughan drawled, clearly thinking the same as Aedion. “If I’d known I would be greeted by the King of Terassen then I would have cleaned up.”

The male was in pristine condition.

Rowan smirked, but corrected “King Consort.”

Aedion rolled his eyes even as his heart warmed at Rowan’s faithfulness. They realised early on that there was an issue with perspective. With Aelin’s powers diminished and Rowan’s fame prominent, many had assumed that thanks to his experience he would be the prime ruler. 

Aelin hadn’t appreciated being reduced to breeding chattel for an heir.

“That’s not a title.” Vaughan’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“It is now.” 

Lorcan sighed, the first emotion Aedion had seen him express all evening, “Aelin is fond of creating titles.” The male allowed his taunting gaze to land on where Fenrys was reclined on a fancy settee in the meeting room they had commandeered. The wolf had chosen his fae form for the occasion, something which was still a rarity, and as such had his friends treading carefully.

Not Lorcan of course. He would never show such obvious signs of… affection.

The wolf smirked, ignoring the way both Gavriel and Rowan tensed in their armchairs by the fire. 

“I think I have a wonderful title.” Fenrys drawled.

The title changed daily depending on both his and Aelin’s moods. And, on occasion, Rowan’s. Which had only happened when Fenrys had stolen the title of a lady-in-waiting and had taken to lounging upon Aelin and Rowan’s bed while Aelin did her makeup. The male hadn’t appreciated the level of familiarity.

“Either way,” Vaughan interrupted what would no doubt become a long drawn out argument, “I wasn’t expecting you to greet us personally.”

Rowan had. He’d swopped the second every male had arrived before shuffling them away into the lovely meeting-sitting-room place hidden in the east wing. The tall, floor to ceiling length windows allowed for an impressive view of the garden, west wing and the backdrop of the Staghorn mountains.

The room itself is extravagantly decorated and in surprisingly good condition despite the peeling green wallpaper and slightly musty smell. There was a large dark oak table to the side, inlaid with birch wood to carve out a map of last century Terassen and it’s kingdom. Most of it is redundant now, but the table was still a beauty. One the males hadn’t bothered to sit around and admire. 

Instead, Aedion had to pretend like it was completely normal for him to be sat on a lounge-sofa, with various members of the Cadre sitting on settees, armchairs and ottomans as they sat round the roaring hearth.

It would have been a domestic image if half of them weren’t dressed in formal wear for the meetings or the other half dressed ready for war.

Including his father. Who was sitting on the opposite side of the room to him. 

Which was also awkward and not normal.

“Maybe I missed your presence.” Rowan drawled and even Aedion could hear the sentiment in his voice.

An emotion that had all the males, bar Gavriel, looking at the Hawk with various degrees of surprise, disgust and amusement. 

“Why–” Vaughan cut himself off, glancing between Gavriel and Lorcan in hopes of them helping.

“He got married.” Fenrys waved a hand in the air, emphasising his dramatised words. “It’s made him all soft and mushy.”

Rowan snarled. Fenrys ignored him.

“Lorcan as well by the way.”

Lorcan had no reaction beyond the deepening of a glower that had been present on his face since birth. Aedion had serious doubts about how a male like that could be with someone as kind as Elide. Then again, Aedion had been on the receiving end of her wrath a few times in the past years and had been terrifying. 

“No partner for yourself then.” Vaughan raised his brows at Fenrys. “Rowan, Lorcan, Aedion, I’m starting to see a trend here.”

Aedion tried to hide the surprise on his face, he probably failed, but in his defence he had no idea the male even knew his name, let alone his relationship status.

“No,” Fenrys sighed dramatically, painting himself as a pitiable lonely male, as if he hadn’t been making every effort to avoid so much as flirting in the past two years. Aedion understood the sentiment well. “It's the single life for me. At least you and Gav can keep me company.”

Vaughan raised his brows, “Who said I was single.”

Fenrys shot up right, “You bastard!”

Gavriel smiled lightly, “Congratulations, Vaughan, you deserve to have someone.”

“I don’t remember seeing a plus one ticket off on your invite.” Rowan commented, even as his eyes seemed to have softened as he stared at the male. “There’s still time to add another to dinner plans.”

“Ah,” A blush rose to the tips of Vaughan’s pointed ears. “They’re one of the delegates.”

“From where.” Fenrys demanded, still looking at his friends like he had grown two heads.

“Adarlan.”

Aedion stiffen, an action which garnered the curious glances Gavriel and Lorcan, the two males closest to him.

“Should I make a room change?” Rowan taunted, his voice was serious with no hint of amusement but his eyes shone with quiet laughter and joy. “Or tell the guards not to kill you on sight for moving around the castle at night?”

Vaughan rolled his eyes, huffing as he clearly remembered why he had fucked off and left these old bastards for a couple of years.

“This is an important event.”

“One we’re using for a social call.” Fenrys countered.

“If you think they would prefer to keep it private.” Rowan trailed off.

“But you could also use this as a chance for a hook-up.” Fenrys added on with absolutely no finesse. “It must be hard travelling between Adarlan and…”

Vaughan sighed once more. Aedion got the impression that the male was normally a more calm and quiet person, one who wasn’t currently enjoying the interrogation he was forced to endure. The male had visited before, but not regularly enough for Fenrys’ tastes as the Wolf had wanted to know everything about Vaughan and his time away.

“Really Fenrys,” The male huffed, “I’ve barely been here half an hour.”

“A perfectly acceptable amount of time for you to relax.” Fenrys all but chirped, “We’ve merely missed you all these months.”

“We?” Gavriel smirked, and it was strange to see Aedion’s own expressions mirrored back. 

“What is this? Gang up on Fenrys hour?” Fenrys pouted but Aedion could see real tiredness in his eyes as he shuffled deeper into the settee cushions. His brothers in arms seemed to pick up on it as well because the conversation soon drifted to topics of politics and meetings.

Both Aedion and Fenrys silent, though neither was a notable excuse. It seem the three, well Aedion wasn’t sure how to describe them but even he could see that there was a sense of age and power that emanate from the males. One that he and Fenrys’ lacked. For his own pride he would put it down to the four males beyond ridiculously old and tired, even if Rowan had started to lighten up thanks to Aelin.

“What about you.” Aedion blinked, realising that Vaughan had spoken to him. “I imagine you’ve got plenty of meetings on the dockets.”

“Yes,” Gavriel agreed, smiling too casually for it to be anything but forced at Aedion, “Aelin mentioned you would be meeting with the lords from Wendlyn.”

“Is that why the cub’s here?” Aedion snarled at Fenrys but the sound was light hearted, the two of them had developed something of an odd… familiarity, with each other. They weren’t friends but in the dark hours they understood each other. “You got a mile long list of questions for the experts?”

Aedion huffed, “No, I’ll only be there to answer questions and talk about what Terassen was like before the fall.”

And wasn’t that just another punch to the chest at a time like this.

“Still,” Gavriel pushed, “We would be happy to answer your questions.”

He had all of their attention now. Gavriel and Vaughan’s faces were calm, even encouraging. Lorcan and Rowan were back to being cold and Fenrys– Aedion tried not to sigh at the expression of glee on the Wolf’s face. He was clearly amused by Aedion being treated like some foot soldier still green around the gills.

“Lions are excessively proud,” Fenrys started and it was Gavriel who growled at him this time. They all ignored his muttered, “And protective apparently.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Aedion interrupted, using that smooth voice and charming smile that always pleased the Adarlan lords.

“Don’t be arrogant,” Lorcan’s voice was cold as he peered over at Aedion from where he and his seat was shrouded in shadows. “Aelin clearly sent you to us for a reason.”

Aedion snorted, unable to hide the sound even when Lorcan’s eyes narrowed on him.

“I was under the impression we were to be teachers,” Fenrys drawled and Aedion was really beginning to see why the other’s always glared at him whenever he so much as opened his mouth. “I wasn’t aware we were babysitting.”

Gavriel frowned, clearly not catching onto to Fenrys meaning.

“Who are we to stop you from killing?”

Aedion choked at Fenrys’ words, shooting the male a harsh look but the atmosphere had already shifted into something more serious. Of course the fae with hundreds of years worth of training and experience would take this seriously. Especially when the queen had practically assigned them to him. Or rather him to them.

“No one.”

“Liiiaaarrr.” Fenrys dragged out the word while the others remained perfectly still and quiet. It seemed that Fenrys’ ‘way with words’ was occasionally put to use. He wondered how many secrets the Wolf had managed to just irritate out of people. “Tell us the truth Cub, your uncles are here to help.”

Lorcan flashed his teeth at that and Aedion could have sworn that both Rowan and Gavriel hid a wince. He couldn’t blame them, not when something stilled and roiled in his veins at Fenrys’ poking of an old wound.

“You’re not my uncles–”

“Of course we are!”

“My uncles were slaughtered over a decade ago,” Fenrys faltered at his words. “By the very people we are hosting.”

There was no bite in Aedion’s words. He had no need to express his anger. No he had moved on from that a long time ago, now he was just tired and resigned.

“Aelin,” He began, meeting the males’ gazes to show them that he was in control. “Has only just begun to acknowledge what happened to our people. They faced a harrowing and brutal fate,” Rowan’s eyes darkened, “But it is one I have had plenty of years to come to terms with.”

“Then why are you with us?” It was Vaughan who challenged him, head tilted to the side in a bird-like manner. “Your Queen does not trust you.”

Aedion shrugged, a casual move that he had practised to be a human one.

“She is beginning to understand her own rage at these lords,” Rowan straightened, clearly on edge from what was being revealed without his mate’s permission. “She is worried that I feel the same.”

“You don’t.” Aedion turned to his father, mouth drying at the bleakness of the Lion’s expression.

“Once I did.” He answered honestly, voice growing rough. “But there were more important things.”

“Than the genocide of your people.” Gavriel cut Lorcan a sharp glare at his words but Aedion only met the Lord’s gaze. “It seems a lot to forgive so easily.”

“No one said I forgave them.” 

“But you are no longer angry.”

“I haven’t the energy to spare for them.” Another truth. “Between fighting for my life on the battlefields, leading a rebellion, deceiving the politicians of Adarlan and then fighting in another war against demons….”

He trailed off with raised brows, still holding Lorcan’s dark gaze.

“I did not forget the genocide that happened to my people, Lorcan.” The male straightened at the dark challenge in Aedion’s voice. “It was merely overshadowed by more death and carnage.”

Aedion looked back to his father, “The same way my mother’s preganancy was overshadowed by her death, and her death by Aelin’s birth.” His father winced but Aedion suddenly couldn’t stop the words from spilling over his lips. “And Aelin’s childhood by a coup, and that by war, and the war by Terassen’s fall, and then the genocide with its concentrations camps, mass executions, experiments and hunts.”

His father’s expression flickered, grief shining in his eyes even as he held his expression strong.

Aedion continued quietly, voice harsh, “Do not, condescend me again.”

Fenrys had stilled at his words, knowing he had pushed too far.

“You all had the grace of a childhood and if not a pleasant one,” A look to Lorcan revealed the male’s hard expression. “Then you had the benefit of training, support, teachers and competent generals.”

Aedion leant forward in his armchair, arms bracing on the tops of his legs.

“We had nothing.” He whispered, voice taunting as he glared at his father. “So we learnt fast, or we died.”

Aedion inhaled, straightening himself back as he prepared to stand and leave the room.

“Your offer of advice is appreciated,” It truly was. “But wholly unnecessary.”

He rose to his feet. None of the males tensed, there was no outward reaction to his movement, not like there would have been with human commanders.

“Because something tells me that you have no idea how to handle these people.” Aedion smirked at the males, it wasn’t a triumphant or mocking look, it was a sad one, born of tired acceptance. “They are plenty different from full blooded fae.”

A/N: This ended up longer than intended and will as a result be a two parter. Let me know what you think and please comment if there's anything specific you would like to read about. 

Chapter Text

Aedion

He dreamt of that cell again. The one from Adarlan, with Death hiding in the shadows. But it hadn’t ended there. His mind was content to play tricks on him all night. Visions of that camp far in the mountains, of fallen soldiers, cold chains, muddy healers’ tents and–

Aedion flinched back at the kettle’s whistle. 

It took far too much effort and coordination for him to pour the damn thing and make a cup of tea. A drink he had once considered a luxury. Let alone all the fancy coffees and hot chocolate his cousin kept in their private kitchens. 

They took over the eternity of a private wing when they first arrived here, no servants were allowed in. Not even for regular cleaning. Between the lot of them they could handle keeping their spaces tidy but they had conceded about three months in to let the servants come in once every two weeks for a proper clean.

One which they took turns supervising. Because maybe, just maybe, they were a little bit paranoid and protective of the place they called home.

His mind was in a mood to wander this evening. An unsurprising state after the week’s stress, not to mention how he had snapped at his father. Aedion held back an exhausted sigh. Not just his father, the entire Cadre who had just been reunited and were making an effort to connect and help Aedion. But what did he go and do? He went and yelled. Though technically Aedion never raised his voice so it was more of an impassioned rant or speech.

Didn’t make it any better.

“Thought I might find you here.” 

Aedion did a shit job at hiding his flinch. Lorcan paid the action no mind, he merely strolled further into the kitchen, his casual sleep clothes barely even rustling with movement has reached over Aedion to pour himself a cup of tea.

Aedion stumbles back a step or two, heart suddenly racing at the intrusion and close proximity to the male. His breath comes in short pants, harsh movements that ache his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut, pressing a fist to the centre of his chest as if he can alleviate the tension with more pressure. 

Holding still, back pressed against a cold wall, Aedion begins to control his breath. He can hear Lorcan moving around the kitchen, the soft thuds of footfalls, rustles of packets and tins being opened. It’s an effort to ground himself on the sounds, to focus on Lorcan’s breathing and match himself to it. 

Eventually he manages to do so, cracking an eye open only to wince at the brightness. His eyes adjust quickly, taking in the candles that Lorcan must have lit. 

“I made tea.”

He turns, swallowing awkwardly at the stale taste in his mouth. Lorcan spares him a half glance but doesn’t move from his seat at the kitchen table. He’s reading some kind of book, a large mug beside him and a mug waiting for Aedion on the opposite side of the table.

Already Aedion can feel the shame beginning to burn at the back of his neck, a dark blush that was no doubt rising to his face. Lorcan looked up at him, the male’s expression was surprisingly relaxed and comforting, but Aedion still tensed at having eyes on him.

“Sit.” Lorcan commanded gently, gesturing to the mug and empty seat. “I could use the company.”

It’s an order but… but not. There’s no pressure in Lorcan’s tone. Aedion could stay in his shadowed corner, back pressed against the wall, and Lorcan would let him. 

Except Aedion didn’t want to stay hidden and small.

His legs failed him for a second, causing him to stumble and grab onto the wall. Aedion blushed embarrassment churning in his gut but when he looked at Lorcan the male was still reading his book. 

Aedion took a steading breath, flexing his toes and testing out his muscles before trying to move again. He took longer than he would have liked, with his head still swimming and eyes adjusting to the light. It seemed even brief moments of panic were causing this reaction now. Though he would like to put some of it down to the late night rendezvous and Lorcan surprise appearance.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the back of his chair and Aedion gritted his teeth at the grating noise the chair made against the stone as he pulled it back. He slumped down heavily, the wood creaking at the addition of his weight. Lorcan still didn’t look up from his book, a mercy that Aedion appreciated even as he knew the male was paying full attention to him. Especially as he was now close enough to read the title “50 ways to make a great pie”. 

Aedion stared at Lorcan. The male ignored him. So he settled for drinking his tea and nibbling on the biscuits laid out before him. It was only once the biscuits were gone and his tea nearly finished that Lorcan finally moved. Inexplicably, Aedion found himself leaning back, tensing, every muscle ready to flee as Lorcan leaned over the table to pour them both another cup of tea.

Lorcan ignored Aedions admittedly wary gaze, instead leaning back in his chair and casting the book aside. Lorcan carefully folded his hands on top of the table, the movement slow and obvious. Part of him wanted to snap at Lorcan for treating him like a cornered animal. The other part sagged in relief at the visibly display of the stronger male meaning him no harm.

When Aedion looked up from where he had been glaring holes into Lorcan’s hands he found the male’s dark gaze already staring back him. For the first time Aedion didn’t feel like he was being judged or stalked or by the male.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Aedion tiredly flicked up his brows in question, a poor imitation of his usual mocking look.

“Though I did actually check most of the bathrooms first.”

Aedion winced at the reminder of how he had been in Adarlan.

“Yeah,” His voice came out hoarse, forcing him to clear his throat. “Well we’re not in Adarlan anymore.”

Lorcan hummed, “True.” His eyes roved over Aedion’s slouched form. “And you weren’t lying about being better once you left that place.”

Aedion shrugged, “It was one giant trigger.”

“I can imagine.” He blinked in surprise at the softness in Lorcan’s voice. It was his turns to smirk, though unlike Aedion’s look Lorcan’s held real sad amusement. “I can’t stand walking in the slums.”

Of course. The demi-fae bastard left out on the streets.

“I heard Elide has started several initiatives in Perranth.” Aedion left the question open-ended and Lorcan’s face twisted into a rueful smile at Aedion’s following words. “It must be hard for her to run a region and lead such progress making charities.”

Lorcan sighs, “I’ve never built a city before.” The male’s whole form seemed to soften with a fondness as he looked past Aedion’s shoulder, clearly seeing somewhere else. “It’s been wonderfully hard.”

Aedion smiled softly, completely understanding the sentiment.

“You’ve made great progress.”

“As have you.” Lorcan’s gaze was brought back to the present as he stared at Aedion with something akin to pride or a look of impression. “I wasn’t expecting you Aelin and Elide to have so much knowledge and skill.”

He rolled his eyes, “Not all of us need eternity to learn simple things.”

Lorcan snorted, “how about learning respect for your elders.”

Aedion made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat.

For a moment they just stared at each other, eyes alight with amusement and understanding, but eventually their expressions dropped and Aedion can see his own dark thoughts reflected back to him in Lorcan’s eyes.

“Elide is struggling with all the lords that are coming out of the wood work.” Aedion swallowed nervously at the words, his eyes dropping to his mug of tea. “It has her on edge and lashing out.”

“I can’t imagine Elide being like that.”

“Neither could I.”

Aedion’s eyes widened in surprise at the omissions. Lorcan shrugged, looking guilty and defeated. 

“I’ve never had to deal with the aftermath before,” The male confessed, “Providing immediate aid is one thing, but rebuilding an entire nation? One that still has divides within its people.”

Lorcan shook his head, the motion filled with a quiet shame and helplessness. 

“How do you do it?” Aedion blinked, at the open desperation in Lorcan’s eyes. “I see Elide struggling with this more and more, and I am helpless to help her, but you…” Lorcan tilted his head, the movement animalistic as he stared at Aedion curiously. “You made peace with it.”

“I gave up.” Aedion confessed, voice rough and he tried to ignore the shame that churned in his gut at the surprise on Lorcan’s face. “I made peace with what happened because there was no other option. Staying angry would have killed me.”

He can feel a soft tremble building in his limbs.

“Elide and Aelin, they are just learning what the Lords and Ladies, and diplomats, and fellow rulers, allies, and our supposedly loyal neighbour did. They are learning of what happened in the past.”

Lorcan nodded, expression hardening even as his eyes flickered with understanding.

“You experienced the consequence first hand.”

Aedion shook his hand, “I was the one begging for aid.”

“You were a child.”

“I was a prince. One who had family and connections.” Even years later, guilt for not being able to do more sat laden on his chest, “I reached out, I met with these lords, ambassadors, dignitaries and generals. I was the one they turned down.”

“It’s truly personal then.”

Aedion shrugged.

“Aelin and Elide will never understand what those early years were like. Hell they will never understand what the war was like.” It was something that had begun to bother him more and more when Aelin spoke about matters like she was there. “They fought a black and white war. Demons against us. They didn’t have to deal with all the bullshit of civil war, infighting and betrayals.”

“We should have never treated you like a cub.”

Aedion hesitated, his rant stumbling to a halt at Lorcan’s words.

The male laughed darkly to himself, “It was ridiculous but I think part of assumed you were made general because of your title.”

“I was in part.”

“No, Aedion.” Lorcan shook his head, admiration in his eyes. “You were made general because you earned it.”

“I know.” He whispered, because sometimes it was easier to pretend he was just some arrogant prince, and that the actions of the General came from someone else. That he wasn't the person who slaughtered thousands to survive and earn his place.

Lorcan nodded.

“Why aren’t you leading the meetings?”

“It’s easier to get shit done when you’re not the banner man,” Aedion smirked, surprised to see the amusement mirrored in Lorcan’s eyes.

“So you’ll be working in the background I take it.”

“Maybe.”

“And what has our valiant Queen asked you to do?”

Aedion's expression flickered, “Nothing.”

Lorcan frowned.

“Aelin has entrusted me to ensure the negotiations and discussions go as smoothly as people.” Aedion smiled sadly, “I’ll spend most of the time keeping everyone in line and stopping fights.”

“Stopping fights?”

“Did you think I would be starting them?”

“Well yes.”

Aedion snorted. Lorcan looked genuinely dismayed by the prospect.

“And you’re going to be completely fine playing nice with these people.” Lorcan asked incredulously, “The ones you clearly dislike even if you aren’t actively angry with them.”

Aedion chuckled, “I’ve dealt with them for two decades, Lorcan.” He raised his brows in amusement. “This is just business as usual.”

Chapter Text

There was something of an understanding between Aedion and Lorcan now. Enough that the male had managed to get Aedion off of the Cadre watch detail. That being said, all of them seemed to be watching him whenever they had meetings together.

It was an effort not to be insulted. 

He tried to tell himself it was only natural for them to be concerned. That it was a nice thing. That it showed how they had begun to see him as something of a friend.

What it really did was put him on edge and make him feel like a liability.

A thought that followed him to bed that night, unsettling his dreams and keeping him awake. Lysandra woke up the first few times, grumbling as he shifted onto his side, then his back, his stomach, and then curled around her again. Eventually his wife was too tired to care and fell into a deep sleep despite his insomnia.

And Aedion soon followed her. 

– – – – –

His throat burned as heaved over the sink. Stomach churning as nothing came up. There was nothing left to come up. Not when he had already been chained to the basin for the last half hour by the sickness. 

Aedion wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up in the kitchen. 

Part of him remembers running. A desperate need to get far far away from the bed. When he pulls his brain away from that foggy place he registers a dull pain in his shins, his knees, anywhere that might suggest that he literally flung himself through the stone hallways. Anything in a desperate attempt to escape.

He gags, but even as he hunches over with the motion he can feel that there’s nothing left to come up. 

Aedion sags, body slumping as his shaking hands can no longer hold up his weight. The ache in his muscles and bones is enough to draw a groan deep from his chest as he collapses to the floor. 

He lays there for gods’ knows how long. Soaking in the cold from the stone tiles as his eyes flutter shut. For the first time in hours he finally stills, enough that he can feel the cloying sweat coats his skin. It's like a second layer sticking his clothes to him, a tight constraint around his throat that has him absentmindedly tugging at his collar.

“Aedion?”

He blinks.

“Aedion.” 

An alarmed voice is at his side, cursing harshly enough that he blinks his eyes open with bleary determination. He can see a blurred figure above him. An angular face leaning over his.

“Wha–”

“Don’t move.”

He raised an arm, batting away the hand that pressed against his forehead, his side his–

“I said don’t move.”

“Vaughan?” He sounds bewildered to his own ears, “What are you–”

“Can you remember what happened?”

Too well.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me.” Vaughan replies patiently but Aedion's brain is already kicking into action. He shakes his head, trying to subtly wave off his earlier confusion. The movement barely starts before its stopped, and Aedion finds himself gaping at a frown Vaughan who keeps the younger male’s head framed in place. 

“Careful, I think you hit your head.”

He didn’t.

“I didn’t.”

“You’re on the floor.”

“I sat down.”

“You were laid out, Aedion.” Vaughan still sounds patient, it's irritating, Aedion isn’t entirely sure why it is annoying, but he knows full well that it is. “Let me call for a healer and we’ll get you checked out.”

“I’m fine.” He keeps voice firm, borderline commanding or the closest he would ever get to commanding one of the great Cadre. “I just needed a minute.”

“Why?”

Aedion paused. 

He stared at Vaughan and continued to do so while his brain continued to catch up with the moment. Because why the fuck was Vaughan of all people in his kitchen, hovering over him. Better yet, why was he letting him?

Aedion shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with appearing so vulnerable to the male before him. 

The way he was staring at him was too close, too seeing, as if the male could read all of Aedion’s thoughts and emotions. Maybe he could. Aedion never did learn how the male’s power manifested. He shifted, fighting the urge to groan as he forced himself to sit upright. He was highly aware of Vaguhan’s eyes on him, tracking every movement, every breath, as Aedion all but dragged himself into a sitting position. 

“Why are you down here?”

Vaughan tilted his head at the question. It was a movement that immediately revealed his fae nature, an action that Aedion himself had spent years ironing out of his system. How comfortable these males were, they so easily revealed who and what they were the whole world around them. Not a single ounce of shame or fear was ever present in the Cadre. Not even Lorcan, who must have endured countless acts of racism for his demi-fae blood had even hinted at playing pretend in his mannerism.

All of them were so different compared to Aedion. 

“Fae don’t need much sleep.” Vaughan answered, “And I lost track of time catching up with a friend.”

Aedion did not want to know what ‘Catching up’ entailed.

But– “Aelin, Rowan and the others sleep loads.”

Vaughan made a noncommittal sound. 

“That’s because they’ve been using excess amounts of power recently. Normally that power would be used to maintain their existence.”

Huh. 

Vaughan’s lips twitched like they were going to smile. Aedion immediately blushed, realising he must have made the noise aloud. 

“You’ll get used to it.” Vaughan continued on, leaning back to sit on his heels. “They’ll even themselves out with time soon enough.”

He never would of course.

He’d continue to be exhausted and drained thanks to the human blood in his veins.

“Fancy telling me why we're on the floor yet?” Vaughan arches a brow, keeping his voice light. “It’s not exactly comfortable down here.”

“Its nothing.”

“The whole room also reeks of vomit by the way.”

Aedion flushes with embarrassment. 

“Do you mind if I open some of the windows?” Aedion is almost relieved when Vaughan leaves him to open the various windows and the back door in the kitchen. It's certainly nice to have a cool breeze through the room. He hadn’t realised it had become so stuffy. 

He clears his throat, rising to his feet and planning a hasty exit from the suddenly awkward atmosphere.

“How about I make us a pot of tea.”

Aedion stills, suddenly getting a sense of deja-vu.

“I brought a new batch over.” Vaughan continued on, seemingly happy to carry a conversation on his own while Aedion stood frozen in place. “There’s a rather fruity flavour that I got from trading in the South but there’s a more subtle blend that comes from Wendlyn.”

Vaughan moves with graceful ease around the kitchen, barely making a sound beyond the rustle of clothes as he rummages through the cupboards for biscuits and tea. Absently, Aedion wonders if it’s a Cadre thing. This whole evening tea thing. Centuries by each other's side must have bred an intimate knowledge of one another, a comfortability around their little pack. 

“I think we have some ginger biscuits.” 

Aedion slowly takes a seat.

“It’s good for the nausea,” Vaguhans comments, glancing over a shoulder to smile at Aedion as if he didn’t already know that healer’s trick. As if he hadn’t researched every trick and method to help with– with his… with this. “I’m pretty sure Fenrys keeps a store of the fancy ones somewhere around here.”

“Why are you making me tea?”

“I’m making us tea,” Vaughan counters smoothly, “And you look like you could use a cup.”

The male turns, raising a brow at Aedion before moving to lay down the plate of biscuits - ginger biscuits - on the kitchen table. 

“Looks like you could do with some company as well.”

Aedion frowns, “Have you spoken to Lorcan?”

“No?” Vaughan raises his brows. “Should I have.”

“You sound like him is all.”

The male snorts, the first undignified and truly emotional sound that Aedion has heard him make. It leaves him reeling in surprise as Vaughan raise a hand to his mouth, shoulders curling in slightly. It's such a– such a human reaction. So emotive and real. He had only ever known fae as unfeeling statues.

Vaughan is still chuckling to himself as he turns back to the stove, removing the kettle from the stove as it begins to whistle.

“Is it because I’m making you tea?”

Aedion clears his throat, “Well… yeah.”

Vaughan snorts, fussing with the tea tray, arranging their cups and stirring the steeping tea leaves. It's so domestic and…. Well it quite simply reminds Aedion of how the humans fidget. For the first time he considers that Vaughan might also have a shit reason for staying up so late. 

“Shall I let you in on a secret?” Vaughan grins but now Aedion’s looking he can see and exhaustion in the male’s eyes. 

“Go on then.” He forces his own smile, leaning back in his chair while Vaughan begins pouring both of them a cup of purple tea. “Enlighten me.”

“We have no idea how to talk to you.”

Aedion blinks.

Vaughan shakes his head ruefully.

“The Gods know we want to, that Gavriel wants to, but–” Vaughan leans back in his own chair, appraising Aedion. “Well it’s not exactly how any of us pictured getting to know Gavriel’s child.”

“What were you expecting?”

Someone more like themselves? Less of a human general and more of a fae? Or perhaps not a general at all. His mother was a princess, he himself was a prince, perhaps they were expecting a regal diplomat to take after his mother.

“Well a child for one.”

Aedion laughs. He can’t help.

“Don’t laugh,” but Vaughan chuckles himself. “If any of us was to start a family, or even the most parental among us, it would be Gavriel.”

Aedion gets a hold of himself, cheeks still hurting from the subtle smile on his face.

“So you were expecting Gavriel to have a kid?” It’s an odd thought to wrap his head. That the Cadre might have expected to settle down and start families, even while under Maeve’s rule. “Cause he seemed ridiculously surprised.”

Vaughan smiled, it was a wistful look, one that led Aedion to believe he was picturing another time.

“It was a running joke,” Vaughan starts, staring at Aedion like he’s some kind of miracle. “That Gavriel should be nice otherwise we’d lead his kid astray. Some days we would end up competing over who would be the best uncle.”

“You put thought into this?”

“Of course.” Vaughan seems offended that Aedion had to ask. “You know how important family is to fae, especially children.”

“Well yeah, but I wasn’t expecting–” He cuts himself off, not entirely sure how to word it without sounding offensive. “You’re not exactly family.”

Aedion doesn’t think he succeeded at not being rude.

Vaughan takes it in his stride despite the sad look that spreads across his face.

“Fae are bound by blood and loyalty.” Vaughan reminds him, as if he hadn’t heard that his entire childhood. “Sometimes we value one more than another, but we are always seeking some kind of tie to another.”

Distantly a conversation with Fenrys rises to the surface. Hazy memories of a blood stained deck. The wolf had said something similar once. That they were all searching for a purpose, for something to treasure and be loyal to.

“So you found each other.”

“Exactly.” Vaughan sounds so pleased, like Aedion is a little kid finally connecting the dots. “You’re our newest link.”

“Right.” Aedion nods dumbly, still trying to process what this all means and what it has to do with all the tea he keeps getting plied with. “And what does this have to do with–”

He waved a hand at the steaming mugs in front of them. The one Vaughan had been steadily drinking while Aedion neglected his in favour of staring the male down.

“Rowan implied you were more amiable to chats late at night,” Vaughan explained and Aedion couldn’t help but blink owlishly at the male. He gets the impression that he’s been doing that a lot this evening. “Fenrys mentioned something similar, and we’ve seen Lysandra out buying various kinds of tea.”

“She likes trying luxury things,” Aedion replies, feeling kind of numb as he tries to wrap his head around the idea of the Cadre talking about him. Talking about him with the purpose of getting to know him no less. “She and Evangeline are trying new kinds of tea every two weeks.”

“Oh.” Vaughan seems almost disappointed. 

Aedion feels his gut churn with guilt and, rather embarrassingly, a desire to reach out. He doesn't want Vaughan’s effort to have gone to waste. He wants them to– well he’s not sure what but he’s kind of liking the soft feeling in his chest right now, even with the tightness from confusion and anxiety.

“Tea was the only meal we had some nights,” Aedion offers useless but Vaughan perks up, giving Aedion his full attention while patiently waiting for him to carry on. He regrets saying anything now. But– “In the war camps I mean, when I was a boy, I don’t particularly seek it out.”

“Oh.” Vaughan immediately glances down to the full cup of tea resting before Aedion. “Lorcan said you both chatted over a–”

The male cuts himself off and Aedion suddenly realises that he was right about Vaughan being nervous earlier. Except it was now dawning on him that the male was worried about screwing things up with Aedion.

“It’s not like a hard rule or anything.” Aedion rushes to explain, bristling slightly at the thought of Lorcan sharing any of their conversation. “I’m fine with having tea it’s just not something I think of making for myself.”

“Of course.” Vaughan smiles comfortingly, leaving Aedion a little stunned at the quick change of emotions. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

Aedion hates the idea of a next time. Not because of the Cadre’s involvement but because there’s a next time in the first place. That this isn’t a one off. 

“What else did Lorcan say.” Aedion asks casually, before he can really think through the consequences of asking such an obvious thing.

Vaughan blinks, surprised by the question, but then Aedion sees understanding flicker in the male’s eyes.

“Nothing, Aedion.” He shouldn’t be surprised by the firm reassuring tone the male adopts but he is. “Lorcan wouldn’t share personal things about you,nor any of us, this isn’t a tell one and they all suddenly know.”

“But you have spoken about me.”

Vaughan flushes and Aedion almost grins at how the tips of his pointed ears turn red. 

“Well, I think we’re aloud a bit of group battle planning.”

“Battle planning.”

Vaughan scoffs, playfully glaring at him, “Because you’re so open.”

Aedion bristles and Vaughan’s happy expression flickers. He forces himself to calm down. To remember that the male is a friend, one who’s reaching out to him no less, not an arrogant Adarlan Lord snipping at him across the dinner table.

“Well I’m not the one who disappeared for a couple of years.” Aedion raises his brows in travel. “Were you that desperate for a paid vacation?”

“Hey, if you had seen how many paid leave days we got in a decade then you would have done the same.”

He grins. Vaughan grins back. Both of them are just baring their teeth.

They stay like that for a while, expression slowly dropping as they finally begin to relax around each other. Enough that Aedion dunks one of the ginger biscuits into his tea before taking a bite. They’re damn good as well. He can see why Fenrys hides them away. 

“Listen, Aedion.” He already dislikes Vaughan's serious tone. “About earlier.”

He tenses, unable to talk himself down from getting defensive.

“You were collapsed on the floor, pup.” 

He winces at the statement. At the pet name. At Vaughan’s worried expression. All of it.

“I told–”

“Don’t say fine,” Vaughan sounded tired, that bone weary tired that sometimes crept up on Aedion. “Just don’t, because it’s not okay, and I’m not in the mood for false niceties.”

“Then what do you want me to say?” He keeps his voice low, shrugging a little at the end. He had never found himself to be the type for shouting. Unless Aelin was involved, his cousin had a way of riling him up. “To just bare my soul to a veritable stranger who did one nice thing for me?”

Vaughan winced, but Aedion didn’t feel as triumphant as he thought he would at the jab landing.

“Seriously, Vaughan, what do you want me to do?”

“I know you don’t trust me–”

“Trust you?” Aedion demanded, suddenly annoyed at the male for ruining what was a perfectly good moment. “I don’t know you.”

“We’re all trying to get–”

“Yeah, I understood that part.” He couldn’t help but snip, feeling a snarl curling at his lips. “But that doesn’t mean the bare minimum is suddenly going to get me spilling all my life secrets.”

“The other’s said…”

Aedion snarled, “They said what?” He demanded, voice sharp and tight as he fought the urge to raise his voice. There was no need for anymore fae ears picking up on the conversation.

“They said you had spoken to them a bit, opened up more.”

“You mean with those males that I spent weeks travelling with at sea?” Aedion arches a brow in question. “The ones who fought by my side, who helped protect my queen and wife, who’ve stuck around and help rebuild my home?”

“Aedion–”

“I know them,” He snaps. “Maybe not as well as you know them, but I know them enough to trust them.”

He rises to his feet, done with the conversation.

“Thank you for the tea.” 

“Aedion–”

A/N: The topic of Nightmares has gotten away from me but I’m hoping to bring it back at some point. Unfortunately for fanfic writing, I’ve not been in the right headspace to write out explicit details of Aedion’s nightmares and panic attacks. So I’m afraid this had to be a low level angst chapter. Nevertheless I hope you enjoyed it.

I’ve also posted a new work to The Cadre & Aedion called “don’t let the bed bugs bite”, it’s in a new style that I’m trying out so I would appreciate any feedback.

Suggestions and requests are always welcome!!!

Chapter Text

It had been a long long week. Quite frankly one of the most stressful weeks that Gavriel had had since the first months of reparations. He had been run off his feet by diplomats, emissaries, royalty, and his own damn people. Rowan had been driving him up the wall, the male had been good at sweet talking the visitors in the first few days, but diplomacy was never Whitethorn’s strong suit. He’d all but given up by day 4. As king he had the power to dump his work load on someone else.

He took full advantage of this. 

So it was stupid o'clock in the morning that Gavriel finally returned to the private wing of Orynth castle. He had never been more grateful for their collective paranoia than in this moment. Having to deal with servants, guests and lost diplomats who just happened to find themselves in private areas. 

Instead he was greeted with the blissful silence of the private wing. It was a peacefulness that he was hesitant to disrupt, Gavriel found himself softening his footsteps even as he walked along the plush green rug that lined the moon lit hallway. 

Another point of contention for the paranoid group: the hallway was lined with floor to ceiling windows, each one made from carved stone pointed into an arch. There had been a brief moment of confusion where the symbols that embellished the stone had been likened to Wyrdmarks. It was Aedion, his Aedion, who had explained they were Terassian knots and runes, each one had carried a symbolic meaning.

He didn’t stop the soft smile that graced his face, it was instinctive and had that ridiculous instinct inside him purring. His parents had told him about it of course, he had heard plenty of stories as well, but to actually experience what it felt like to have a son? It was incredible. Fenrys had once told Aelin and Aedion that every fae was looking for a purpose, a pack, or in Gavriel’s case a Pride. Something that their natural instincts called out for them to do. 

What Gavriel hadn’t expected was to physically feel the change, to be actively aware of how he was growing to love and care for his boy. It was like something lost and broken had been soothed inside him, like every time he caught sight of Aedion, or found his scent in the wind, something settled in his chest. 

Not to mention the overwhelming weight of the pride and adoration he felt for the boy. Often he found himself blindsided by it. 

Even now he was acutely aware of Aedion’s room down one of the branching corridors from the main hallway. The private wing of the castle had plenty of space but Aedion, Lysandra and Evangeline all chose to room down the same corridor. None of them were entirely sure why the couple had chosen to have separate rooms at the beginning but since their marriage those rooms had been turned into a study and a library. Now they shared a room at the opposite end of the corridor to Evangeline, for reasons that Gavriel truly did not want to think about.

Though he was uncomfortably aware that it was the same reason why his room was at the opposite end of the corridor to Fenrys. Not that it mattered anymore with all the visitors. Vaughan, Lorcan and Elide, and one of Aedion’s commanders, Kyllian, were sharing the same stretch of space. He also knew that Dorian, Manon, Choal and Yrene were roomed somewhere closer to Rowan and Aelin. 

It was quite frankly a mad house and Gavriel was grateful for the opportunity to avoid them all.

When the ‘old gang’, as Aelin named them, got together it was always a recipe for carnage. Already there had been several fires, five petty squabbles, two blow out arguments and one absolutely vicious debate over a private dinner this evening that had opened up old wounds. 

An argument that Gavriel had only heard about, yet was still acutely aware of how it had the Ashryver cousins at odds and Dorian on edge.

For a moment he had considered going to Aedion, but even with all the progress the two of them had made over the years he still wasn’t sure if his son would be comfortable talking to the Lion about such things. There was still a divide between them despite the bridge they had both fought to build.

He spared a single glance to corridor that housed his son–

Gavriel froze.

The corridor to his right was deserted, only lit up by the moonlight from the tall windows lining the left side of the main hallway. Yet–

There it was again, a shift in the air, a change that had his instincts standing on edge. Something was wrong. The slight creak of Evangeline's bedroom door swinging open had him blinking in surprise, eyes wide as he stared into the little girl’s room and found her sleeping peacefully. He paused, sparing a half glance to his hand on the bedroom door before scanning her windows, eyeing the locks as he sent a soft wave of golden power to test each one.

Nothing.

Aedion’s study was locked when he tried the door and Gavriel once again found himself stunned by his own actions. He was moving on pure instinct, checking each room before he had even registered his own movements. Only once he stood before Aedion and Lysandra’s room did he pause, hesitating as he twisted the door knob. 

But Lysandra was sleeping and she must have been truly exhausted if she didn’t register Gavriel’s presence at her door. Like every room he quickly scanned the windows and checked the locks before acknowledging how the bedcovers were carefully tucked in around her, the sole inhabitant of the king sized bed. 

His son was not here.

A soft sound echoed down the corridor and Gavriel twisted fast enough to hurt his neck as he peered over at the dark doorway leading to the kitchen stairs. It had been a defining feature for why Aedion had chosen their rooms. Both he and Evangeline could often be found sneaking a late night snack.

Sure enough his son was hunched over the kitchen table.

Mouth dry, Gavriel shoved down his growing panic at the sight of his trembling cub, instead he stepped forward slowly, footsteps echoing on the stone tiles. Aedion’s head shot up, a half snarl on his face as his blurry eyes took in the male before him. 

He couldn’t tell, Gavriel realised, his son didn’t know who he was.

“Aedion.” Gavriel called, voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, forcing a calm strength that he didn’t truly feel. “Aedion.”

His son blinked, expression clearing as he slowly twisted his head from side to side as though he were brushing off a thought.

Carefully, Gavriel pulled out the chair opposite his cub, sinking into it slowly as Aedion watched his every move. It was like being on trial. Or being stalked. Gavriel didn’t enjoy either feeling.

Aedion just stared at him, or through him, Gavriel couldn’t tell which. 

For a while he just stared back, following the contours of Aedion’s face, taking in the pallor of his skin, the tightens at his brows, the colour of his eyes, the lightness of his eyelashes, for the first time he allowed himself to truly look at his son. At those Ashryver eyes so similar to those he had fallen in love with, that iconic golden hair that he could swear reflected his own in a certain light. The broad spread of Aedion’s shoulders were all Gavriel, the shape of his upper lip was as well, but his stubbornness? His passion? All of that belonged to his mother.

Such a thought would have brought Gavriel to his knees a few months ago. The breath would have been choked from his lungs by the reminder of what he had lost, the woman he had lost and the life they could have had.

Now all that remained was his son.

“Talk to me.” Gavriel murmured, eyes pleading. “I’m here, Aedion, talk to me.”

His son shook his head, a soft tremble shaking his frame.

“Oh son.” Gavriel whispered, hands reaching out across the table and it was like something snapped inside Aedion. As if the strings had been cut on a puppet. The Wolf of the North crumpled forward, hands gripping the Lion’s as he hunched over, curling in on himself. There was nothing the father could do but squeeze his son’s hands as he cried.

Every trembling breath that Aedion took echoed through Gavriel’s body. A mirror image of his boy’s pain. Leaning forward, the Lion pressed his cheek against the top of his son’s head, soft golden curls catching on his morning as he slowly inhaled his child’s scent. He could have never imagined that a simple smell could bring so much comfort and peace. The riddling marks of anxiety and fear in his son’s scent had every paternal instinct roaring within him, yet Gavriel couldn’t help but marvel that he was his son. His to love and fear for.

Eventually the tremors subsided and Aedion ran out of tears. It was only when he began to feel his son tense up with familiar lines of shame sharpening his every breath that Gavriel started to move. 

Aedion followed him up as they both leant back, straightening up in their chairs even as Aedion kept a death grip on his father’s hands. The Lion waited, watching his cub who couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead Aedion stared at their joined hands and Gavriel let him fuss, let him trace the layers of scars that lined his palms, let him feel the callouses that had grown over the years.

Damages so similar to Aedion’s own. It sprung up on him sometimes, all that Aedion had lost and achieved in his limited years. He was too young to bear so many scars, so many responsibilities. His cub had experienced life beyond his years and it never failed to take his breath away with guilt and pain. 

“You weren’t at dinner.” Aedion whispered, voice hoarse.

“The meeting ran over.”

Such a pathetic excuse for why he wasn’t there for his son but Aedion nodded, accepting the answer easily.

“Did you hear?”

“Some of it,” Gavriel answered honestly, hating the way his own son still couldn’t look at him. “But not in great detail.”

“Who told you?”

“Lorcan.”

Aedion’s shoulders seemed to sag with something akin to relief. It wasn’t the first time that Gavriel was faced with the knowledge that Lorcan and his son had grown over the years. Somehow it was both a surprise and entirely expected. Lorcan understood better than most the trial of being a demi-fae, but Maeve’s commander had always worn a fae skin, in a human-hating land. Aedion had worn a human skin, with fae blood, in a land that loathed magic and fae. It was different, yet the same.

Though he was loath to admit it, Lorcan had always had a soft spot for the demi-fae, the downtrodden bastards that were abandoned in the streets and slums. The male had often left supply carts of food within easy thieving distance of such places. Now it seems he had taken a liking to the Wolf.

“He seemed quite upset on your behalf.”

Aedion snorted in disbelief and Gavriel’s chest loosened at the familiar action.”

“I doubt that.”

Gavriel hummed a little, signalling his own disagreement. “You’d be surprised.”

Aedion’s eyes flickered up long enough to read Gavriel’s expression before dropping back down the their scarred hands. He tried not to react, to show how surprised he was at his son all but clinging to him. It felt wrong yet so right to provide his cub comfort and support. He hated that he had to do it in the first place, yet loved that he was trusted enough to do so. There was a time, not too long ago, when he thought this would have never been possible.

“What did he tell you?”

“Aedion,” Gavriel sighed, head ducking down in an attempt to catch the boy’s gaze. “I want you to tell me what happened.”

His son shuddered and Gavriel’s breath caught in his throat as he watched his son carefully count out his breaths, holding and exhaling at regular intervals until he was ready to talk. Gavriel didn’t rush him. Not when he had been the one to discuss breathing techniques with the male during one rather pointed training session. He was glad the technique was of use, and that his son felt comfortable enough to use it openly in front of him. Especially with how well Gavriel knows the Ashryvers’ stubborn pride.

He squeezed Aedion’s hands in encouragement, forcing a tight smile in hopes that it would put his son at ease. Not that he looked up long enough to see it. 

“Aelin and I fought.” Aedion confessed, sounding like it was a hanging offence. With Maeve it would have been, but never with Aelin. “Fought with Rowan too, and Dorian– Chaol, the others didn’t look too pleased either.”

Aedion groaned, letting go of Gavriel’s hands to brush a hand over his face before planting his elbows on the table and dropping his head into his hands. Gavriel flexed his fingers, already missing Aedion’s warmth, the comforting weight of his presence. The reminder of his trust.

“I said some horrible things.”

“Knowing them, I’m sure they said some awful things too.” Gavriel offered quietly, “And you can apologise in the morning.”

Aedion shook his head, still holding his head. 

“I can’t.”

“They’ll forgiv–”

“You don’t understand,” The desperation in his son’s voice had his mouth drying. “This isn’t something I would ever consider apologising for.”

Gavriel’s brows furrowed in confusion.

Aedion straightened up, leaning back in his chair and meeting Gavriel’s gaze head on with a fierceness that the Lion wasn’t expecting. Despite the exhaustion and guilt lining Aedion’s expression even Gavriel could see the pure wrath burning in those Ashryver eyes. 

He wasn't just upset, he was furious. 

From the soft tremble in his hands and the clenched jaw that Gavriel now attributed to barely controlled fury rather than fear he was beginning to see why Aedion wouldn’t apologising. Not when it caused him this much pain. Not when he clearly believed in whatever he said this evening.

“I won’t apologise to them,” Aedion’s chin raise up in defiance. “I won’t.”

“Okay.”

Aedion paused at his easy acceptance.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Gavriel explained calmly, “But it might help to mend–”

“No.” Aedion’s head tilted to the side, a movement that so clearly revealed his fae heritage. “They are the ones who need to apologise.”

It was Gavriel's turn to pause. He hesitated, wondering if it was too soon to push but– His son was distraught minutes ago, he needs to know why.

“What happened, Aedion?” There's a soft command to his words, one that he doubts Aedion will follow. 

Indeed his son bristles, every bit the General of the Bane, Wolf of the North, burning with righteous fury.

Aedion’s chin lowered, no longer holding himself in a prideful challenge. He wasn’t a general here, not with Gavriel, not in their family’s kitchen, with his wife sleeping just a staircase away. Here he was Aedion, husband and son. 

“There was a… skirmish between Adarlan guards and some of the older Bane soldiers.”

“Older?”

Aedion shrugged, “The younger ones are back at the camp, they already proved their worth in the war. The older warriors,” The light died in Aedion’s eyes and Gavriel knew they were no longer talking about some random soldiers. “They have fought a Theralis twice now, some as children, some as adults, they’ve been a part of rebellions and uprisings, and they have witnessed the death and carnaged that followed Terassen’s fall.”

“It’s not an easy thing to forgive.”

“It won’t ever be forgiven,” Aedion countered with confidence. “There are some things that can never be forgotten, that can never be apologised for.”

“What did the soldiers fight over?”

“What didn’t they fight over?” Aedion scoffed, glaring at Gavriel like he was an idiot for not understanding. “They had so many things to chose from; the culling fields, the slave camps, the experimentations, the child soldiers, the torture, the rape, the abuse–”

“Aedion.” Gavriel interrupts softly, not willing to let the General wind himself up when he had only just begun to calm down. “I understand.”

“Do you?” He asked darkly, voice low and soft in a way that had Gavriel tensing, hand instinctively falling to the hilt of his dagger. “I thought you would, that Rowan and Fenrys and Lorcan and Vaughan would. None of them behave like it,” Aedion head twists to scan Gavriel head to toe, eyes bright with predatory focus. “There has never been a personal war for you. You’ve always been mercenaries or the instigators, you have never had to defend your home, your people.”

Gavriel said nothing. There was nothing to be said.

Aedion laughed, a bitter, hoarse sound that was more sad than angry as the male’s emotions began to swing between grief and rage.

“Hell, I’ve had Lorcan coming to me for advice on how to deal with it all, how to support Elide as if she understood a fraction of the agonies we endured here.”

“You can’t compare pain, Aedion.” Gavriel stated firmly, unwilling to let him dismiss a beloved cousin’s grief so easily. “What she endured was no less or more awful than what you did.”

Aedion scoffed, “Yet she sits there and acts like she understands.”

Maybe they’re not talking about the same ‘she’ anymore.

“Elide, Aelin, Lysandra, Dorian, Chaol,” Aedion practically spat out their names. “They act like they were there.”

“Where?”

“On the fields!” Aedion roared, finally snapping once more. “Like they watched entire families dragged off the culling fields, shot against the post, bodies burned in mass piles, throats slit over the pits where they were to be buried.”

Aedion’s breath comes in shaking pants, eyes wild and arms flaring as he flings them out angrily.

“They act like they were on the battlefields in armour too big since it was designed for adults and not children, like they crawled through trenches and crushed skulls! They have no idea what these people sacrificed, the starvation and disease that spread like wildfire, the suicides and grief that crippled and entire nation.”

“They did not watch Terrassen fall!” Aedion all but howled with grief. “They did not hold its crumbling remains in their hands and desperately tried to hold it all together while the streams ran red with blood.”

His son shook, the fight leaving his body.

“They weren’t there.” Aedion whispered, eyes wide and pleading with Gavriel to understand. “They were sequestered away and safe for the beginning. They never saw what they did to Terassen.”

“I know.” Gavriel whispered back, voice cracking. 

“How can they grieve,” Aedion began to shake again. “When they do not even know the beginning of it all.”

“I’m so sorry, Aedion.”

“They broke bread with the very people who enslaved us, who executed us for our blood, who trapped us in cells and turned us into animals and experiments for their own gain.” Ugly tears slowly began to slide down Aedion’s face. “They make decisions about matters they do not even understand, they make choices for people who have had every choice taken from them, they have chosen peace without letting their people heal.”

Without letting Aedion heal.

“I know, son.” 

“I can’t be the only one who remembers,” Aedion all but begged his father, “I can’t be the only one who knows all the stories and tales, the history and agonies that we endured.”

I can’t be alone in this.

Gavriel remembered pleading the same thing long ago. Rowan collapsing into his arms, screaming for his mate and babe. Fenrys’ howl at night, a lone solitary sound never to be accompanied by his twin’s again. Lorcan’s endless bags of food, clothes, money left at the sides of roads, dropped off in the slums and orphanages. 

And like he remembers his answer is the same.

“Tell me, my cub, I am here to listen.”

A/N: Oh my god, I think there’s a plotline. (whereby I accidently link three chapters together)

The final chapter to this little collection is coming up and I’d love to hear any requests or suggestions for what should be included in the “+1” aspect of the story.

Chapter Text

“Don’t say anything.”

Lorcan glares at Elide’s back, scarcely slowing his steady pacing of their room as he waits for her to finish braiding her hair at the vanity. It was a job he normally took pride in doing, having dedicated hours to learning the various braiding styles of the upper courts so he could help Elide in the mornings when she was tired and bleary. 

He had been demoted this morning for daring to speak out against her arrogant cousin. 

Elide’s eyes follow him through the mirror’s reflection, she carefully watches his every move, no doubt able to read the anger he’s so desperately trying to keep on a leash.

“Lorcan.” She commands, so firm yet kind. How different she is to the last female he dedicated himself to. “Promise me.”

“I cannot.”

She scoffs, “You will.”

He bristles, pausing mid step to snarl at her, she whirls in place, silencing him with a harsh glare. 

“Don’t ever take that tone with me.” She snaps and Lorcan shrinks in on himself, already cursing his impulsive rage for upsetting his wife during such a trying time. “I am not in the mood to deal with your bullshit, least of all the overbearing fae range of emotions.”

“I am no–”

“You certainly were last night.”

Lorcan stalks closer but the Lady of Perranth doesn’t cower under his gaze.

“Aedion can fight his own damn battles.” He states slowly, raising his brows in challenge. It was a tough argument to make considering he had been one of the first to speak out in the cub’s defence, but that was last night, this is today. “but after what he said–”

“He was right.”

Lorcan hated the shadows that crept into Elide’s eyes, the way her skin seemed to pale and that fire he so loved dimmed in her soul. 

“He was out of line.”

Elide shrugged half heartedly and Lorcan sighed, he turned around, searching for the spare chair that normally stayed in the corner of their room. His wife didn’t speak as he carried it over, placing it before her so he can sit down and meet her gaze head on. Lorcan waits patiently for her to speak but Elide only toys with her lip, a nervous habit she had started developing with the stress of ruling a province.

“Turn around,” He murmured softly, “Let me help you.”

She did as he asked and Lorcan busied himself with her hair, focusing on brushing it out in smooth, soft strokes, pressing down just hard enough against her scalp for her to feel the motion. Fenrys had once pointed out that he looked like a cat carefully preening his mate, and for all Lorcan’s bitter snarls he couldn’t help but agree with the assessment. Not when his wife all but purred at his actions, leaning into his soothing touch as he carefully began to braid her hair into a coronet that she had favoured recently. 

“I said some cruel things to him,” Elide whispered, voice heartbroken as her shoulders curved inward. “He was grieving and I lashed out.”

“You are grieving as well,” Lorcan pointed out, forcing himself to take a neutral stance. “And Aedion was out of line.”

Elide looks at him scornfully.

Lorcan attempts to smile, a soft tilt to his lips while he pleads for her to understand that he can’t just let it go. She sighs, shaking her head slightly and Lorcan can’t help but grin at her quick forgiveness. 

“Just…” She hesitates and Lorcan’s own chest begins to cave with worry at her desolate expression. “Please don’t do, or say anything.”

Lorcan clenches his jaw, fighting the urge to give what Aelin calls ‘yet another overprotective rant’ when he knows it will only help to dig the hole deeper. But still… The urge to protect is still there, especially with Elide so vulnerable right now. Her grief had him on edge, every instinct in him screaming to comfort her, to keep her safe, and to get rid of an incorporeal threat. 

“Besides, you gave a rather impassioned speech in Aedion’s defence last night.”

“That was last night,” Lorcan bit out. “The cub was defenceless then.”

He huffed, bristling at being reminded of his own morals and values.

“It was unseemly to attack a downed male.”

“Yet he’s an acceptable target today?”

Today Aedion was a threat to the carefully arranged deals. Yesterday he was a scared boy. A soldier traumatised by war. Except Elide was ordering him to stand down.

Fucking typical.

He drops his head with a sigh, pinning in the last section of hair in Elide’s coronet. Elide waits patiently, knowing full well that he will end up caving first. Instead he buys himself time, smoothing down Elide’s green velvet dress, dusting off invisible lint and straightening the silver embroidery lace. 

Eventually he runs out of preening to do and his hands drop down loosely to his side.

“Okay, okay.” He nods, “I won’t say anything.”

– – – – –

“Ashryver!”

Aedion flinches at the harsh command, but some instinctive part relaxes at the sight of Lorcan before him. He had just managed to fall asleep, having given up on sleeping in his own bed and having migrated to his study so Lysandra could sleep in peace.

“Come with me.”

It’s– Aedion glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, 3 in the morning. It was three in the fucking morning.

“What?” His mouth felt disgusting, his eyes as well. “Why?”

Lorcan sighed as if Aedion were the one being unreasonable.

“It’s–”

“3am, I know, now move it.” Lorcan snaps, face like thunder as he turns on his heel. Aedion stares after him, the male is fully dressed, or maybe he sleeps in black clothing as well but Aedion is pretty sure the male isn’t paranoid enough to sleep with several knives strapped to his chest.

“Now.” The command echos down the hallway and Aedion instinctively moves, that conditioned part of him following a general’s orders, or maybe it was those stupid fae values again, instantly submitting to a stronger male.

Aedion’s throat bobbed and he blamed it on the exhaustion from staying up last night. Nevertheless, he hastily followed Lorcan, pausing only long enough to grab a jacket abandoned on one of his armchairs. 

The male had slowed long enough to let Aedion catch up and he prayed that meant he wasn’t about to be executed. Not that he would blame Lorcan, Aedion had said some truly awful things to Elide yesterday, enough so that he had avoided everyone all the next day. Though he wasn’t naive enough to dismiss the hawk that had followed him all along his running for the morning. 

But he hadn’t been alone, even when he wanted to just wallow in solitude, drowning in his anger. No, the Lion hadn’t been content to leave his cub unsupervised and had managed to spend the morning with him, offering words of comfort and silent support. Even now as he strode through the hallways lined with his history and family it was still a jarring thought to have so much support. To have his father backing him.

It had been a dream he had long thought lost, and one that had changed over the years. There had been a time, when he was no more than 8, that he had dreamed of his father magically appearing on his doorstep. That he would be standing around the training pitches, watching Aedion play Capture the Flag or practise his archery. 

There had also been a time when he thought Evalin and Rhoe would be his parents. 

Now he actually had a father and it was surreal to say the least. All of last night felt like a fever dream to Aedion, something his terrified mind had conjured up to bring him comfort. A mirage, nothing more. But when the sun rose he had found Gavriel baking a batch of blueberry muffins, Evangeline’s favourite, and laying out the table for breakfast.

He had breakfast with his father. 

His father .

An act that had those ridiculous fae instincts purring in his chest, delighted at having family, having his blood family, so close by. 

It didn’t stop him from distancing himself, from feeling last night’s guilt once again rise to the surface. Perhaps that was why Aedion was willingly letting Lorcan walk him to the proverbial butcher's block. Clearly he had gained some of Aelin’s self sacrificing ways.

Except Aedion found himself regretting every decision as he found Rowan and Vaughan waiting for him in one of the larger meeting rooms.

This was an ambush. 

He had conduct enough traps in his time to know when he had been cornered, all that they were missing was–

“Boyo!” Aedion turned enough to see Fenrys bounding towards him, herding him from the back with a wide grin. “Glad to see you’re joining us today.”

There was nothing the Wolf of the North could do as the White Wolf slung an arm over his shoulder, guiding him through the arched doorway and to his death.

– – – – –

Rowan had always been impressed by the cousins' ability to rip into each other. Considering his first introduction to them as a pair had started with an argument over the blood oath and ended with Aedion storming away he truly should have been more prepared for his future. With the years of experience he now had under his belt Rowan had genuinely thought he was used to the way the golden-haired cousins fought like dogs. 

Apparently he wasn’t because it took everything he had last night not to rip the male’s throat out.

That rage had kept him warm all night. Enough so that Aelin had kicked him out from their bed when his tossing and turning had grown too much for her. Pacing the length of their ridiculously ornate bedroom had grown boring after a while and Rowan found himself soaring through the dark, grateful for the clear skies that allowed the moon to guide his way. 

He had flown for hours, long enough for his rage to cool to something harsh and defensive but– but it wasn't just for Aelin. As much as he loathed to admit it, he had grown fond of the Ashryver boy. Not just because of whose son he was, or for how loyal he was to Aelin. Aedion was a male to be respected and Rowan found himself appreciating the demi-fae more and more as the months went by.

Enough so that he found himself easily recognising the boy's scent on the wind, registering a family member so closeby. He had followed him this morning, some deep rooted instinct eager to hunt the male that had caused his mate harm, but there was another part of him full of concern. The part that recognised how tired Aedion had been this past week, how much he had bene struggling with the dignitaries and Adarlan lords. 

They’d grown close, something Rowan was proud of at times, despite the days when he found himself regretting befriending such a young and angry fae. It was a tough road for all of them after the war and Rowan had devoted himself to Aelin. The Queen would never admit it but she had lost something during that last fight, a part of her had been broken off. 

For months she had struggled, Maeve’s torture had caught up to her once again with nightmares and shudders and attacks. Some days he could see the heavy weight crushing her shoulders, could scent the exhaustion of living on her shoulders. Rowan had understood her pain, her struggle to remember why she was even alive in the first place. He recalled being in such a place himself, after Lyria’s death he had expected to die, and when he found himself alive many months later he had no idea what to do with himself.

It was Lorcan and Gavriel who had forced a purpose upon him. Dragged him out of bed and forced him to eat. 

So when he found himself taking note of Aedion’s favourite foods alongside Aelin’s, tracking his moods like he had once done for Dorian all those years ago on a rough sea, he accepted that he had another Ashryver to care for. 

In the dark hours of the day he found himself comforting the young prince, sitting by his side and making cups of tea when sleep evaded him. Often Aedion isn’t even aware of his presence, the prince has a habit of clearing his head by running out into forest and Rowan had taken to following him as a hawk, watching over his little brother when the paths are dangerous or the weather dark.

Which would explain how Rowan found himself awake at three in the fucking morning, tending to a roaring a firing in a disused meeting room when he should have been gathering his strength and resting so he can best handle a important diplomatic event.

Lorcan stalked into the room, steps heavy and echoing as he strode straight to one of the floor to ceiling windows that Orynth castle was so fond of. There was a familiar wrath twisting his features and Rowan was honestly surprised that Maeve’s former commander hadn’t already bitten Aedion’s head off. Rowan had certainly considered doing so after what Aedion said to Aelin, but now… well maybe Lorcan had come to the same conclusion as him. 

Aedion stumbled into the room after him, Fenrys dragging him along with an arm slung over the younger male’s shoulder. It looked to be the only thing keeping Aedion in place as he scanned the members of the Cadre with narrowed eyes. 

Oh he knew this was an ambush alright.

Not that they had made any attempts at being subtle.

“Evening.” Aedion called, voice hoarse and cautious as he scanned each one of them head to toe, no doubt taking in their lack of visible weapons, alongside the formal wear being swapped out for more casual dress. “Any reason this couldn’t have happened earlier in the day?”

Rowan blinked, surprised by the male’s blunt irritation in the face of four pissed off fae males. Aedion didn’t seem to have any qualms with huffing and slumping down onto one of the dust covered sofa. He could feel his own nose wrinkle at the dust cloud that rose around the prince but Aedion didn’t even flinch as he slouched down.

The cub looked exhausted. 

Rowan fought the urge to cover the male up with a blanket, any residual anger for the male quickly falling away as he took in the dark circles under Aedion’s eyes.

“Or any later,” Vaughan grumbled from the armchair nearest the fire. “Some of us were busy.”

“With your new beau.” Fenrys jested but there was something dark in the Wolf’s eyes. “You still haven’t introduced us to your Adarlan lover.”

Aedion stiffened, an imperceptible action if he were around anyone but them.

“Aedion,” Fenrys drawled, a grin lighting up his face even as that sadness remained. “Anything you would like to share?”

Rowan wondered if the male would ever be truly comfortable about discussing romantic relationships ever again. The pup’s scars had become more apparent now that he had begun letting his guard down. There had been moments where the after effects of Maeve’s abuse had left Rowan horrified, unable to help his brother.

“Perhaps about a–”

“No.” 

Fenrys huffed at Aedion’s harsh tone. “Someone isn’t a morning person.”

“It’s not morning.”

Fenrys opened his mouth to retort but Aedion cracked one eye open to peer over at the fire where Rowan stood, “Don’t you have an important meeting in a few hours?”

The question was directed at Rowan but it was Vaughan who answered with an amused snort, “Rowan doesn't have enough patience for politics. That’s more your father’s area of expertise.”

Aedion tensed at the title, something darkening in his eyes and Rowan fought the urge to wince at the potential back step in progress. As far as he was aware, Aedion hadn’t openly addressed Gavriel as his father even with all the progress they had made over the past two years.

“I thought I’d join you all,” Rowan smiled, attempting to catch Aedion’s eyes but the male was carefully tracking Lorcan’s every movement as Hella’s favoured glared out into the dark abyss through the window. “We’ve not had a chance to catch up.”

“At 3am?”

“Well–”

“Enough.” They fall silent at Lorcan’s command and for a split second it’s two decades ago and they’re all standing around a meeting table in Doranelle. “You know why we’re here.”

“I thought I was going to be murdered in my sleep.”

Fenrys snorts in amusement but Lorcan turns just enough to arch one dark brow at the young Ashryver prince.

“You’d think we’d be so boring?”

Aedion shrugged with a casual ease, lifted one leg to rest his ankle on his knee. All careful, human actions, no doubt the type of acting that helped him hide his heritage for over a decade.

“I thought you’d be efficient.”

“Gavriel would never forgive us,” Vaughan pointed out carefully with what Rowan thinks was supposed to be a reassuring tone. “You won’t be harmed while under his protection.”

Aedion widens his eyes with comical surprise, “What a relief.”

Vaughan bristles a little, clearly upset that his attempt at comfort didn’t work. 

“Last time we were in this meeting room,” Lorcan starts, voice carefully calm as he slowly stalks towards the young prince. “You made a pretty convincing argument, enough that we trusted you to play nice.”

Not to mention that Lorcan personally vouched for Aedion to the rest of them and Aelin. Rowan remembers his own screw ups over the centuries when Lorcan had been the one to vouch for him, the former commander didn’t take to his word being broken too lightly.

Aedion thankfully seemed to appreciate that.

“I didn’t lie,” The male shrugged and a growing sense of dread built in Rowan’s chest. “I have no problem with the dignitaries.”

Rowan snarled but the Wolf only smirked at him.

“Rowan.” Lorcan reprimanded and Rowan redirected his glare.

“You’re not in charge any more, Lorcan.” Rowan whispered, voice soft in a way that had Fenrys and Vaughan tensing up, ready to spring into action. “Watch yourself.”

Lorcan stared at him, unimpressed even as his eyes darkened at the promise of a fight.

“As entertaining as this is…” Fenrys drawled and the male truly did look like he was enjoying the prospect of a fight between them. “Both of your wives will kill us all if you cause a scene during a diplomatic event.”

It was only the reminder of all Aelin was going through that had Rowan pushing his irritation aside.

“Cub,” Rowan called, voice harsh, a tone he had taken with many unruly soldiers, “care to explain what happened last night.”

Aedion pouted in thought, “Nope, I think last night was self explanatory.”

Lorcan snarled, “I made plenty of excuses for you last night–”

“I didn’t ask you—”

“Well I fucking did.” Lorcan snapped, “and I would like a goddamn explanation for why I had to do so.”

Aedion gaped at the older male, genuine surprise on his face. Rowan did his best to hide his own surprise, he had left soon after Aedion’s own exit, taking Aelin with him. No one had said anything about Lorcan stepping in on the cub's behalf.

“What is there to explain?” He demanded, glancing  between the cadre members. “I thought you of all people would understand.”

“Oh we do,” Rowan interrupted, stepping forward and falling into a familiar interrogation pattern with his brothers. “But we don’t understand why you decided to take out your personal issues on family–”

“Because this whole event has been a fucking nightmare!”

– – – – – 

Aedion panted, eyes wide as he glared at Rowan.

“How can you not see that this is my hell.” He leant forward in his chair, staring up at Rowan. “You stand there, accusing me of being out of line, as if that isn’t exactly how your wife has been for this entire event.”

Rowan snarled, eye flashing as those sharp canines revealed themselves.

Aedion huffed, an intentionally human reaction as he waved a hand at the King.

“And there is half of your problem,” He mocked, leaving back in his chair and forcing a causal ease he didn’t feel. “You are fae, you will never be one of us.”

“Last I recalled you were fae too.” Rowan’s expression remained twisted, even though Aedion didn’t look away from the challenge in those green eyes he still registered every other fae in the room stiffening. “Or are you so keen to forget your heritage?”

“Why are you so keen to write over my history.” Aedion countered and Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “You have a very fae based narrative this week, how poor Aelin feared for her life, how it was the famous fae cadre that saved her, how the shapeshifter with ancient magic backed her…”

The words were like lead on his tongue, a sickening reminder of his own differences.

“I was the only one, the sole non-magic, primarily human” because he will always be human first and fae second, “Fighting in this fucking war for the last decade.”

He hummed, a dangerous sharp sound, daring Rowan to challenge him as he continued on quietly, “I don’t recall the fae or magic being of any use to us for the last decade.”

“Those fae and magic wielders you dismiss so easily won the war.” Rowan’s voice was dangerously calm, his expression blank. “You’re fire bearing fae queen won the war.”

“I’m not dismissing that–”

“Aren’t you?” Rowan raised his brows, angling forward to glare down at Aedion, “Because you’re sounding pretty ungrateful.”

“Grateful,” Aedion echoed breathlessly, “You expect me to be grateful.”

“Aedion–” Vaughan fell silent at Aedion’s harsh glare.

“Did you hear anything I said last night,” He asked, truly wondering if the male had been so blinded by a desire to defend his mate that he blocked out all sound. “Have you listened to any of the people here at this event?”

No one spoke.

Aedion turned to where Lorcan was shrouded with shadows.

“Elide is angry on behalf of her people.”

Rowan met his challenging stare, “Aelin is angry on behalf of her people.”

Aedion met every single one of their gazes, letting the silence reign while he scanned them head to toe. All that impressive finery they wore and had worn for centuries, the expensive weaponry at their back, their training, their skills, their magic, their blood, they had it all. They had each other. Aedion couldn’t recall them ever fighting in a war that wasn’t ordered by Maeve. 

War wasn’t the same when you were fighting to protect your own.

“What exactly are all of you angry at?”

They didn’t answer him.

“It’s a genuine question because I can’t think of a fucking thing that you have to be angry at.”

Fenrys stiffened by the fire and Aedion flung out a hand towards him without taking his eyes off the other three, “Not you. You sacrificed everything for your brother and family. I want to know what these three are so fucking furious about this week.”

“Careful.” Lorcan murmured, dark eyes peering down at Aedion.

For a moment he hesitated, pure instinct begging him to back down from the male’s gaze, to submit and hide from the challenge. The male had toned it down over the years, that wicked cruelty that often lurked in his mind, but now Aedion could scent the familiar smell of death that clung so desperately to Hella’s favoured. 

“You know nothing about these people,” Aedion whispered, holding death’s gaze. “How dare you behave like you understand a fraction of what we went through.”

He refused to back down. Not to some arrogant male who thought he understood how Terrassen worked. 

Fenrys cleared his throat, breaking the tension, “Aedion–”

“What did you expect,” he whispered to Lorcan. “When you brought me here tonight?”

Aedion raised a brow in question at Lorcan’s flickering expression.

“That I’d be begging for forgiveness?” 

They had, he realised. Maybe part of them was prepared to comfort him, to understand what he went through, but first and foremost they were loyal to their mates, and Aedion had truly been harsh on Elide and Aelin.

“At the start of the week,” Lorcan begins and Aedion bristles at the casual mention of the private moment. “You told me that you had moved on from what happened ten years ago. That you understood why Aelin and Elide were struggling.”

Lorcan paused, waiting to see if Aedion would interrupt but the prince stayed silent, knowing it was him turn to listen.

“Aelin and Elide, they are just beginning to learn about the atrocities that happened,” Lorcan’s throat bobbed, “We are just beginning to learn about what happened to you.”

A growing ache built in Aedion’s chest at his words, at the acknowledgement that Aedion was among those people in all their clinical reports. It was one thing to read about it, to know that Aedion’s name was on a list somewhere in that pile, it was another thing for them to address it directly. 

“That is what you said that night.”

“It’s the truth,” Aedion croaked, feeling the fight leave his body as Lorcan began to treat him with compassion. “I don’t begrudge them for being angry…”

He trailed off because part of him did. Lorcan nodded, understanding that.

“You’ve only just begun to realise your anger at them.” Lorcan’s expression flickered and Aedion was surprised to see the understanding in the male’s eyes. “It’s okay to be angry at Aelin and Elide, at all of these lords and ladies who act so compassionate.”

Aedion shook his head, “It’s not okay.”

“It is,” Lorcan insisted firmly, “What isn’t okay is the way you behaved at dinner.”

His throat tightened, a familiar guilt tugged at his chest and made his mind go foggy. 

“But,” Fenrys interrupted cheerfully, “It also wasn’t the worst dinner we’ve ever witnessed.”

The White Wolf wasn’t dissuaded by the many disbelieving stares directed at him. 

“What? I’m just saying that Boyo has a narrow view on what's considered proper and improper,” the male shrugged, “I think he could have done much worse and got away with it.”

Aedion chuckled, half delirious with his lack of sleep. It was like the tension began to leave the room at the action, as if the Cadre were finally at ease now that Aedion had relaxed. Which left him feeling incredibly guilty for putting everyone on edge in the first place.

“I was a dick to them.”

Fenrys hummed, “I’ve said much worse to Lorcan.”

Said male snarled at the wolf, the sound sharp yet there was no threat in it, even as Fenrys grinned back with a smile that was more teeth than happiness.

“That’s Lorcan though.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting that our women are less capable than us,” Rowan jested but Aedion could see the tension still lining the male’s body. “They won’t be happy to hear that.”

“I doubt they’ll be happy to hear anything from me for a while.”

“Cub,” Rowan sighed and Aedion finally scowled at the pet name now that he had a chance to properly register it. “They’re not angry with you.”

“It would be easier if they were.”

Rowan cut him a playful glare, clearly annoyed by his self loathing behaviour.

“You weren’t entirely out of line,” Vaughan supplied, finally speaking up from where he was perched on an armchair. “You made a lot of valid points.”

“Well I’m glad to hear it.” Aedion drawled dismissively even as he paused to appreciate the way that Lorcan and Rowan hadn’t contradicted the male. 

It forced him to pause, to consider the restraint they were able to use. Despite hating that their wives were all but verbally attacked, they were willing to listen to the points being made. Maybe it was because of their training, who they were and the skills they had. Hell, Aedion found himself thinking like a soldier and general in more domestic situations than he would care to admit but… but they were willing to be civil where Aedion went on the offensive.

“I feel like I keep starting arguments.”

The confession surprised him but not the Cadre.

Vaughan shrugged, “Young fae tend to be more aggressive as they grow into their power.”

“But maybe try talking to people first,” Lorcan cuts in, “we are surprisingly good listeners.”

“And we have been around the block a couple of times,” Rowan nodded to Lorcan, agreeing with his offer before looking back to Aedion with pleading eyes. “None of us handled the wars and trauma we experienced well. Let us at least help you from making the same mistakes we did.”

“Like yelling at your family?”

Rowan nodded, expression finally becoming playful, “Like yelling at the people you love.”

“Maybe,” Fenrys joined in with a soft grin, “just maybe,” Aedion actually heard Lorcan inhale an annoyed breath as the White Wolf spoke, “You try talking instead of yelling.”

“What brilliant advice.”

A/N: And that is the end of the Nightmare angsty one shots. (This chapter also ended up being 4900ws... about 1900 more than I was aiming for)

I am thinking of doing a fluffy +1 where Aedion doesn’t experience any nightmares and rather has a Cadre Uncle bonding experience, it would be a sort of Epilogue to this little collection of stories. I'm hoping to use it as a chance to tie off a few loose ends that I've ended up with here, so please leave a comment if there is something you feel is being unsaid in the story, especially if you have spotted any plotholes or loose ends that I've missed. (it will also be a representation of a more supportive cadre as I made them rather argumentative in this chapter)  

Chapter Text

“Why do you make tea?” 

Aedion didn’t flinch at the male's approach, he had already heard Lorcan’s quiet footsteps as the male entered the kitchen. It was an intentional sound, one that Aedion appreciated when he was so on edge. 

“Aedion?” Lorcan prompted and he winced. His brain must have gone foggy again.

“Needed something to drink.”

He gestured to the tea pot, raising a brow at Lorcan.

“Please.” The male smiled, or at least his lip-twitch version of a smile, as he moved to perch on the edge of the kitchen table while Aedion moved to pour him a cup of tea. 

“Why tea?” He asks again and Aedion sighs. The Cadre were always asking him random questions, ones they had decided had meaning. Sometime ago he had learnt indulging them was the easiest way to get rid of their attention. Didn’t make it any less annoying.

“It’s easy.” 

“Boring. Try again.”

Aedion laughed, a light sound that he hadn’t made in the past two weeks of the delegates visit. They’d all officially left three days ago but still Aedion’s nightmares persisted. Nightmares that had gotten worse since the family argument one week into the debates. It had been brushed under the rug of course, everyone eager to focus on the deals being made during the event but now that the event was over–

“Aedion.” Lorcan prompted softly. “Why the tea.”

“It’s simple.”

“We have nicer tasting teas,” Lorcan countered, “Your wife collects them, and they’re no harder to make.”

“This flavour is familiar.”

“I thought it would bring up bad memories.”

“Have you been talking to Vaughan?”

“Yes.”

Aedion sighed, glaring half heartedly at the former commander as he handed him a steaming cup. Lorcan only raises his brows in a challenge, a playful jest in his eyes despite his stern tone.

“Vaughan said you didn’t like tea.”

“I like tea fine.”

Lorcan tilted his head in a lupine movement that Aedion associated more with Fenrys than Lorcan, not that he would ever tell the male that.

“Did you know the only breakfast I had for years was porridge?” 

Aedion wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“Why?”

Lorcan shrugged, “It was the only thing I could bear to eat in the mornings.”

“The flavour?”

“Maybe,” Lorcan’s expression flickered, eyes going glassy for a moment as he pictured another time. “But I couldn’t stomach the idea of eating anything else.”

Aedion sighed, knowing where he was going with this.

“It was all we could eat with the rations,” Lorcan shrugged, a casual gesture meant to counter how serious their conversation was. “After the rations ended I couldn’t see myself eating anything else. Felt wrong.”

Lorcan met Aedion’s gaze, “It also felt impractical. Like a luxury to have something better when I could survive on something so simple.”

Aedion pursed his lips.

“You don’t have to drink tea after–”

Lorcan pauses at Aedion’s harsh gaze, they had never actually admitted that Aedion had nightmares out loud in open casual conversation. Maybe they would best be described as night terrors or PTSD attacks but Aedion wasn’t ready to admit that either. Either way, he wasn’t prepared to normalise the topic.

“You don’t have to punish yourself further.”

“It’s comforting to have tea.”

“You prefer hot chocolate.” Lorcan pointed out and Aedion blinked in surprise. The male shrugged, answering Aedion’s unspoken question. “You and Aelin love chocolate. Lysandra takes Evangeline out for tea when they’re in the city coffee shops, you take her out for hot chocolate.”

How the hell did Lorcan of all people know that?

Aeidon’s confusion must show on his face because Lorcan laughs ruefully.

“Gavriel,” He muses, “Is rather fond of talking about you.”

Aedion ducks his head, making a terrible attempt at hiding the blush rising to his cheeks.

“He’s also making it his personal mission to learn about you,” Lorcan grinned, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable Aedion was. “Likes and dislikes, hobbies, interests, etc, etc.”

“He could just ask me.” Aedion grumbles and Lorcan flat out laughs.

It’s a hearty sound that has Aedion’s brows rising in surprise. For once the male had an open and youthful expression covering his face, at least for a few brief seconds before sinking back into that calm look.

“That would mean actually talking to you.”

“We have been talking.”

“You swing between deep and meaningful conversations at night, and awkward small talk during the day.”

Aedion winced, knowing it was the truth.

“I told you that in confidence.”

Lorcan shrugged, “You also told me that while looking for advice.”

“I don’t know why I went to you.”

“Because the others would have been weird and awkward.”

“Plus you’re leaving tomorrow.” Aedion added on, sniffing delicately in a dramatic portrayal of regaining his composure. “No need to see you for the next few months.”

“Ah, about that.”

“No.”

“Oh yes.” Lorcan grinned, enjoying Aedion’s displeasure. “I thought I’d stay around for a little longer.”

“What about Elide?” Aedion sounded desperate to his own ears. “Don’t you want to be with your wife?” He tried his best to sound encouraging but Lorcan only arched a brow in challenge, “Back home with your lovely wife… away from all of us… alone–”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.”

Aedion smirked, drinking from his tea triumphantly like it was his reward.

“Besides,” Lorcan sighed, appraising Aedion like he was looking for some kind of answer. “It will only be for a couple more days.”

Aedion frowned, “Is something wrong?”

“Well if you consider a Cadre bonding camping trip–”

Aedion snorts in amusement, already imagining how easily it would devolve without any clear guidance or mission.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing, cub, you’re coming with us.”

Aedion choked on his tea, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Oh yeah,” Lorcan smirked, eyes full of sadistic joy at Aedion’s pain. “We’re going to have an absolute blast, kid. We’ll pack you hot chocolate and marshmallows as well.”

– – – – – 

Gavriel was fully prepared to yell at his brothers-in-arms until he saw Aedion’s unsure expression. For all the young male was good at carefully crafting a calm emotionless face he was yet to control the subtle scents and traits that Fae could pick up on. 

At least the experienced fae could pick up on the different scents and their meanings. Gavriel still remembered how impatient their queen had been when trying to learn how to read what emotion each scent correlated to. She’d abandoned the task when she realised that each individual had their own set of scents for each emotion.

So the Lion had bit his tongue and settled for glaring at the former Cadre members, most of whom had their own questioning looks for Aedion and Gavriel.

“Right,” Lorcan calls as he joins them in the courtyard where they waited with their camping packs. “The cub is coming with us.”

Aedion scowled at Lorcan, an indignant expression on his face at the nickname.

“Do we get to know why?” Vaughan queried lightly as he once again looked at Gavriel for an answer, as if the male had any idea what was going on. “I thought this was a– what did Her Majesty call it?”

“A Cadre Reunion.” Fenrys supplied.

Vaughan nodded sagely as if the Queen hadn’t been mocking them when she said it.

“You said they–” Lorcan cut off Aedion’s hissed words with a sharp look.

“I say he’s coming along, so he is.” The male states.

“Does Aelin know you’re tagging along?” Rowan asked while he waved one of the nearby servants over, “We need another travel pack.”

Apparently the King was fine with Aedion tagging along. Normally it would have been a comfort to Gavriel, knowing that Rowan and Aedion could rely on each other. He knew that they had become something of siblings in the past couple of years, much to Aelin’s amusement and delight. Right now Gavriel couldn’t care less about the family bonding when he had intended to spend this camping trip venting and complaining to his brothers-in-arms about his lack of relationship with Aedion.

Gavriel nearly winced at how dismissive his internal monologue sounded. He and Aedion had been getting closer but he could feel the boy holding back, clearly hesitant to trust his father. 

They waited until the servant had scurried away out of hearing distance before once again turning to each other.

“Yeah,” Aedion cleared his throat, “Lorcan cleared it with her.”

The male in question did not look like he had cleared shit with the higher power.

“You did–”

“Do you really need permission,” Lorcan huffed, fixing Aedion with a piercing gaze. “Last I checked you were a well respected General who led a Rebellion.”

“I also have a wife and child, not to mention responsibilities here.”

“Huh,” Lorcan nodded to himself like he had answered some puzzling question. “You truly have given up your rebellious way.”

Aedion rolled his eyes, “That is horrible baiting.”

“Oh I’m not baiting,” Lorcan grinned, “merely stating the truth, boyo, you’ve lost your touch.”

Fenrys ooo-ed at the challenge as Aedion narrowed his eyes on the commander.

“Fine,” Aedion muttered, rolling his eyes as he gestured for the servant holding his travel pack to come forwards, “On your head be it.”

Gavriel hesitated, if only for a second, wondering if this was a good idea. Don’t get him wrong, he was excited to spend time with son, gods knew he had missed so many years with the male already. It was everyone else Gavriel worried about, especially after last week’s events that had been seemingly glossed over.

Only Vaughan seemed outwardly wary about their current plans, glancing between all the males as they quickly mounted the horses that would be taking them far into the mountains. Echoing hoofbeats were the only sounds for long minutes as they moved along the cobbled road. No one spoke. Fenrys occasionally opened his mouth but Gavriel and Rowan took turns in glaring at the wolf.

Everyone was aware of how Aedion hadn’t yet spoken to his father, though the look of acknowledgement they had shared was an improvement. Eventually the Osprey couldn’t take the silent tension any longer,

“So Aelin doesn’t know that we’ve taken her mate and both of her wolves?” 

Rowan ended up flying back to Aelin, quickly informing her of Aedion’s involvement in the camping trip before jumping out the nearest window. Something Gavriel only knows because he literally watched the male jump out of the aforementioned window.

“Not a word.” The King muttered as he flung himself back onto his white horse. 

Fenrys’ answering cackle was enough to set the tone of conversation.

For a while Gavriel is content to just sit back and enjoy the passing commentary, appreciating how at ease Aedion and Fenrys are with Rowan. Anyone could see that the two of them had been struggling the most, especially during these past two weeks. Something the King had clearly picked up on, if the way he allowed their jokes and ribbing at his expense was any indication. 

Naturally, Fenrys was more keen on poking fun at Rowan’s married status, something which apparently made him a ‘boring chicken, more content to nest than fly’ a comparison which had his son doubled over with laughter. Gavriel himself couldn’t help but grin, even the usually stoic and calm members of their cadre, Lorcan and Vaughan, had cracked a smile at the youngests’ commentary.

“-seriously though,” Fenrys grinned, “you’re basically a broody hen at this point.”

Rowan sighed, a familiar long suffering sound that Gavriel had heard many times over the centuries. It was a new thing for the expression to be filled with fond amusement. They’d always been close but never like this.

“Soooo….” Fenrys drawled teasingly, dragging the word out as he leaned over his horse to peer at Rowan’s face. “Is there some happy news you want to share with us? Perhaps to do with why you’ve been nesting?”

Aedion choked next to them, clearly hating Fenrys’ implications. Even Gavriel had to wince at the direct line of questioning despite his own curiosity as to whether the male did have news to share with them.

“You better not have.” Rowan scowled at Aedion’s sudden words, the younger male glared back, amusing Gavriel with his petulant look. “What? Sure I’d be pleased–”

“Oh what a relief.”

“-for the two of you but honestly–”

“I really don’t want to know your thoughts on the matter.”

Aedion gaped at the King, clearly offended by Rowan’s dismissal.

“Besides,” Rowan cut Fenrys a sharp look. “There is no ‘happy news’ so you lot don’t have to worry about being made uncles– again.”

Gavriel couldn’t help but glance to Aedion, taking in his suddenly uncomfortable look. He wondered if Aedion would ever be comfortable, they’d made progress over the last year or so but still… 

“Oh quit looking like you swallowed a lemon.” Fenrys huffed and Gavriel’s eyes widened in surprise at the male’s blunt tone, even if the wolf did attempt for a humorous lilt. “You’re going to have to accept his fatherly love at some point.”

“I really don’t.”

“I think you should be a little more grateful–”

“Fenrys.” Gavriel snapped, halting the male impassioned and misguided overprotective rant. “This is not of your concern.”

“Well we’re all going to be together for the next few days,” Fenrys grumbled, his feathers clearly ruffled at Gavriel’s intervention. “Can’t have the two of you making it awkward.”

“It won’t be awkward-”
“I can go back–”

“No.” Lorcan interrupted smoothly, voice flat and commanding. “We’re all going to play nice-” – Rowan snorts, clearly amused –  “and have a good time.”

– – – – –

They were not having a good time.

It was awful, worse than Aedion expected thanks to the rain. None of them wasted anytime when they arrived at the Inn they had planned to stay at, each of them had quickly split off with an unspoken agreement on their roles; Aedion, with the most human charm, conversed with the family running the Inn, booking their rooms; Rowan and Vaughan scouted out the nearby area, leaving Fenrys with Lorcan as the pair dealt with their horses.

Gavriel had of course joined Aedion, hovering a step behind as though he were a child in need of support. He wasn’t a child and he didn’t need support.

As proven by the two rooms, the only ones left, that he had acquired for their little group. Hilda, the woman running the Inn with her husband, cast a deeply suspicious eye over their cloaked group. They no doubt cast an imposing image with their sword hilts visible under dark hoods. Thankfully she asked little questions despite the darker tone of her skin that would suggest she were from the Fangs. 

The Northmen have a certain… disapproval of the fae. One that Aedion feared the woman shared based on her dark looks. He couldn’t blame her, it was fae ruling Terrasen, the Kingdom which steadily took more and more land from the native Northmen of Terrasen.

Despite her doubts they were still presented with two fairly well furnished rooms, both with a small window overlooking the shadowy street below. Aedion cast an instinctive look over the room he, Rowan and Fenrys were staying in, scanning the two beds, side table, armchair and finishing on the window being pounded by the heavy rain.

He suspected the second room was designed in a similar fashion. When he turned to check it was an odd surprise to find the two males joining him casting a similar look over the room. How long had it been since he had travelled with soldiers? People weathered by years of war and living in a constant state of vigilance.

In an odd way it was comforting, knowing they were just as prepared as Aedion was.

Fenrys dramatically sighed, groaning deeply as he flopped onto the nearest bed with the gratefulness of a toddler, “Thank god these weeks are over.”

Aedion shuffled further into the room, hesitantly glancing between Rowan and the spare bed. The male paid him no mind as he slid past him towards the window.

“I mean seriously,” Fenrys complained as he scrubbed a hand across his face, “I didn’t even know it was possible for one diplomat to complain that much, let alone of them.”

Aedion suddenly got the urge to check the hallway for eaves droppers, even with the closed door and packed pub downstairs there was still a risk of them being overheard. The last thing the crown needed right now was one of the bloodsworn being overheard complaining about their royal guests.

“What about you, Pup?” Fenrys prompted with a hum. “I bet you’re relieved this week is over.”

Aedion sighed, cutting Fenrys a look for pointing out the obvious.

“What?” He drawlled, clearly amused by Aedion’s irritation. “I thought it was a good conversation starter?”

“By diving straight into the emotionally shit.”

The wolf shrugged.

“Beats dancing around a bush.”

“You seem to be avoiding your own issues rather well,” Aedion raised a brow, moving to place his travel pack down by the spare chair. “Why don’t we talk about that?”

Fenrys makes a childish splutter, booing at Aedion.

“That’s boring and unimportant.”

“Who was it that said something about the benefits of talking?” Aedion mused as he slumped down into the chair to take off his muddy boots. “A rather arrogant fellow but the advice was sound.”

“Yeah yeah.”

“Well come on, don’t be a hypocrite.” Aedion tugged off his boot with a sharp movement, flinging it at where Fenrys laid sprawled out.

“Blegh, gods above boy, these reek.”

Aedion sniggered, unable to hide the noise at Fenrys’ disgusted expression. The wolf’s whole face scrunched up, nose wrinkling as his lips pursed.

“Seriously though, these are rank–”

“Alright, don’t be a–”

“I’m being serious, this could be a condition–”

“Oh fuck off–”

“Boys,” A tired call came out, voice carefully soft since he didn’t have to raise it for the wolves to be silenced. “Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow then?” 

Aedion sniggered at the White Wolf’s question and shit eating grin.

“Both of you are going to need your beauty sleep.” Rowan replied sweetly, teeth flashing in the low light. “Wouldn’t want that precious time to be interrupted, now would we?”

Aedion glanced around, once again hesitant about the two beds. Rank would state that Rowan automatically gets a bed, but between him and Fenrys?

“I’ll take first watch.” Rowan calls to him, nodding towards the spare bed before directing his next statement to Fenrys. “I’ll wake you up in a couple of hours.”

Oh. Right.

Of course, this was a complete non issue. Hell it was part of the reason Aedion had booked two-bed rooms in the first place. Apparently his brain just decided to fail him by overthinking whenever the Cadre was involved. 

Or maybe it was just his father?

The thought still plagued him as attempt to sleep. The candles had long been blown out, even with the rain and wind Rowan’s sight would be good enough to keep watch over the hopefully empty city street.

An ability he had thanks to his Fae blood, the same reason Fenrys would be taking over the next watch instead of Aedion. His senses were sharper than most, his power leaning towards physical strength rather than magic, but still… he wasn’t a full blooded fae, certainly not one with the ability to shift.

“I can hear you thinking.” Fenrys drawls, voice foggy with exhaustion. “Shut up and sleep.”

A soft amused huff by the window reminds Aedion of Rowan’s presence.

“Sorry.” He mutters, shuffling further into his covers.

Silenced reigned for long minutes, only the wind made any sound with the creaking wooden walls and the rain hammering against the thick window panes.

“Spit it out then”

Maybe if he ignored Fenrys for long enough–

“He’ll keep asking until you answer,” Rowan answered his unspoken thoughts, “We’ve actually broken spies by just having Fenrys be himself for an hour straight.”

Fenrys sniggered at the last part, obviously proud of his obnoxious personality.

“You can’t be serious?” Aedion finally huffed. “We need to sleep before tomorrow–”

“Sod the beauty sleep, Pup, we’re fabulous enough as it is.”

Rowan sighs loudly from his post.

“You remember that conversation we had last week?” Fenrys prompts, a teasing lilt to his voice. “When a wise wolf–”

“For the love–”

“Told you that–”

“Fenrys.”

“I was just making a point!”

“What’s on your mind, Aedion.” Rowan asked quietly, his voice calm and patient in a way that Fenrys could never achieve. “We’ve got a long few days ahead of us if you’re like this every night.”

“Why am I here?”

“Lorcan–”

“Last I checked, Lorcan doesn’t actually call the shots.”

Aedion rolled over enough that he quirk one eyebrow at the King, knowing he would see the movement despite the dark.

“Contrary to your Ashryver-self-loathing skills,” Rowan drawlled, leaning back in the chair that he had dragged over to the window earlier. “We do enjoy your company.”

“This is supposed to be a Cadre bonding trip?”

How odd to make such a joking phrase sound serious.

Rowan nodded to himself, clearly thinking through his next words.

“In another life you would have joined us many times by now.” There was a sad light in the King’s eyes, one no doubt reflected in Aedion’s own eyes  as they both thought of the life they should have had. “Gavriel would have been an attentive father no doubt, he’s always been a family man.”

“You should have seen him back in our ‘hay-days’,” Aedion could hear the soft smile in Fenrys’ voice. “So overprotective, always packing spare supplies for us, finding us after tough missions, hell, he was the only person Lorcan could stand for a long time.”

“You would still be with…” Aedion trailed off, unwilling to say her name around Fenrys. “I was under the impression that none of you had lives outside of work.”

Fenrys snorts in amusement.

“In some ways we did,” Rowan murmured, toying with his hands. “We had families, parents and cousins. Some of us had well known family, royal blood, it was expected of us to keep up such connections.”

“Plus we did have holiday time.”

“It was a fulltime job,” Rowan ignores Fenrys’ interruption. “One we had for centuries, it would have been unsustainable for us to have been working every single day. Not to mention we had plenty of months when all we had to do was paper work.”

Aedion pauses, reevaluating what he had thought their former lives looked like. Not once had he pictured it as domestic.

“There were lots of trips we went on,” Rowan continued, oblivious to Aedion’s thoughts. “Many of them were with other dignitaries, some would take their own children–”

“Fledglings and Pups excited to learn from their fathers.”

“With fae children being so rare it was natural for us to raise them as a whole community, everyone chipping in and sharing their knowledge–”

“Gavriel would have brought you along for the boring trips.”

“ Gavriel , was well aware how dangerous the world could be,” Fenrys huffs at Rowan’s correction. “He would have only brought you along when there were at least three of us there.”

“We would have been your uncles.” Fenrys finished, sounding more than a little wistful. 

Huh.

Aedion had uncles, for a short time, now he had a group of them again. 

And a father.

He still wasn’t over that.

“I can’t see him as a father.”

Lie. Aedion had seen the beginnings of what they could have been. Had done since his father had first flung up a golden shield around Aedion and Lysandra during the battle. He’d seen it again during those long nights when sleep eluded him. Not to mention what happened a week ago.

Rowan only hummed thoughtfully, accepting Aedion’s statement without challenging the lie.

“You don’t have to.”

It was Fenrys who offered him the out.

“He’ll back off if you ask.”

Aedion sighs, loudly.

“Ah.” He can see Fenrys nodding from the corner of his eye. “That’s the dilemma, huh?”

He groans, rubbing at his forehead as all the thoughts he tried to avoid bubbled to the surface. Eventually he uttered a quiet “Yep.” with all the elegance of a child.

Both males are quiet for long enough that Aedion believes the conversation to be over, ending on his quiet confession. 

“Is that the only thing?”

Aedion frowns, glancing over to Rowan who watches him cautiously.

“The only thing on your mind?”

“Yes?”

Fenrys snorts at his phrasing but doesn’t comment. From the quick glance Rowan sends over Aedion’s head he suspects that the two Cadre members have formed some type of agreement.

“Even after these past two weeks?”

Aedion scowls, “Is this about the dinner again?”

“Well, none of you have spoken about it.”

“I’m waiting for Elide and Aelin,” Rowan arches a brow but it’s not with the daring threat that Aedion expects. No, the male looks amused and curious. “I won’t be ‘apologising’ of that’s what you’re asking.”

Rowan shrugs, “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“So you’re not here questioning me as an overprotective mate?”

He chuckles at Aedion’s question, shaking his head a little.

“I’m here as a worried brother.”

“Whose brother?”

Fenrys groans, “Your brother for hell’s sake, get with the new arrangements already, Pup.”

A flush rises to Aedion’s cheek and he quickly fixes his stare on the ceiling, avoiding both male.

“Honestly, two years,” Fenrys grumbles, “and he still hasn’t caught on to where we all stand.”

“I thought it was like an end of the line thing.” He feebly defends himself.

“End of the line.” Fenrys echoes in disbelief.

“You know–”

“No we don’t know.”

“The whole, ‘only to be acknowledged upon death beds’ kind of thing?”

“Are you fucking kidding me–”

– – –

“You should take some more.” Gavriel encouraged, sparing a concerned glance for Aedion’s already full plate. “It’ll be a long journey.”

Aedion frowns, glancing between the other males who all have similarly full plates to his yet all look at him with worry.

“How much of a pig do you lot think I am?”

“One about to keel over from starvation,” Crumbs spilt down Fenrys’ mouth as he spoke and Vaughan huffs from his seat beside the White Wolf. “Seriously, Pup, there’s no way that’s going to be enough.”

He bristled at the condescending tone. 

“This is enough.” Aedion bit out. “It’s also the same as yours.”

“You need more food than us,” Fenrys challenged, moving to pile more sausages from the main platter onto his plate, “Here, let me–”

Aedion snarled, cutting him off and Fenrys slumped back into his chair with raised brows and a surprised expression.

“Aedion,” Gavriel drew his attention quietly from the seat opposite him. The Lion paused, sparing a glance to where Rowan sat by Aedion’s side, the King quickly started a conversation with Vaughan and Lorcan, giving both him and Gavriel the illusion of privacy.

“You really need–”
“Why is this such a big deal–”

They both paused, realising that they had spoken at the same time.

“Because it’s not healthy.” Gavriel stated plainly with a firm nod as if that made any sense.

“Its the same amount I’ve always eaten.”

“With rations and bad–”

“And with the luxury that being the General Commander of the Bane entails.”

Aedion leaned back in the creaking wooden chair, a casual human movement that he had used many times. Enough that it had become natural to him. 

“What’s really going on?”

Gavriel frowned.

His chest tightened at the expression, some part of him unnerved by the look.

“You’re a young fae,” The Lion started slowly as if he were explaining things to a child. “You should be eating more than us to maintain your physical strength and power.”

“That’s never been a problem before.”

But maybe it would have been if he were fully fae. If he were more like his father rather than his mother. Gavriel shifted uncomfortably as if he too realised that Aedion wasn’t like his father, that his blood and genetics would never behave the same as his. 

“It’s not a problem, Aedion.” Gavriel’s voice was sharp and firm as the male stared down at where he clutched his metal cup. “Eat as much as you want.”

The Lion left abruptly, leaving Aedion stunned as Vaughan quickly trailed after his father.

“He’s just…” Fenrys started but drifted off as he lost the words. “I’m sure Gavriel just needs a minute.”

“What part bothers him?” He hated how small his voice sounded as he turned to the three males who had become brothers to him. “I can never work out which aspect of my blood bothers him the most.”

“Probably the same as the rest of us.” Aedion dragged his gaze away from the doorway that Gavriel had disappeared through, giving Rowan his full attention. “That you were raised to fear and hate what you are, and that despite surviving the war and finding your family, your time on this world may be limited.”

It was a thought that had plagued Aedion as well.

Settling would mean living a long life with Aelin, Rowan, Fenrys and Gavriel. Maybe Mannon as well if she stuck around after Dorian– but settling would mean living after Lysandra, after Evangeline, Lorcan who had bound his life to Elide, his men in the Bane.

“We all die at some point,” He muttered, the words for himself rather than them. “We should just be grateful for the time we have.”

– – –

“Aelin never experienced the racism and hatred towards demi-fae.” Rowan announces suddenly while he and Aedion are organising their packs back in their room. Gavriel was still out with Vaughan, and Lorcan had taken Fenrys with him to tack up their horses, leaving Aedion alone with his cousin’s mate. “She was lucky enough to escape that particular brand of trauma.”

“Is this about what happened at breakfast?”

The male shrugged, “Partly, it’s also about what you said at the dinner.”

Dinner. The Dinner. 

Where he had lost his sense of composure and started a screaming match with both of his cousins. 

“Ah.” 

What an eloquent response. Rowan’s amused snort suggests he agrees. For a second the room is lighter, a playful glance shared between the two males before it quickly drifted back into a sombre mood.

“Demi-fae don’t have particularly good lives, even in Wendlyn - just ask Lorcan,” Aedion had, the male hadn’t been forthcoming. “But what Adarlan did here…”

“You don’t need to remind me.” Aedion replied gruffly, focusing on packing his clothes away so he didn’t have to look at Rowan. “As you all seem to forget, I was there.”

“None of us have forgotten, I think that’s part of our problem.”

He paused, not turning around but focusing on what Rowan had said.

“We’ve spent the past two years learning about a genocide that you experienced, and we’ve only scraped the tip of the ice berg.”

His throat burned, jaw aching with tension at Rowan’s words.

“It was blindsiding for your cousins, the blame,” Aedion winced but Rowan ploughed on. “Sure they both had their own guilt and they felt responsible for their people on a political and work level–”

“I made it personal.”

“It was always personal, Aedion,” Rowan countered quietly and the floorboards creaked as the male stepped closer. “You just reminded them of that.”

“It’s easy to hide away from the truth in towers and castles.”

“Some people need to hide away from things to survive.”

“Why do they get to be cowardly and hide?”

“It’s not cowardly,” Rowan countered as he sank to the floor near where Aedion was crouched over his travel pack. “Everyone just heals the only ways they know how.”

“I don’t get to hide.” He whispered, meeting Rowan’s gaze with misty eyes. “I have to live with it every day.”

“I’m sorry they don’t understand that.” Rowan’s expression flickered, a deep sadness rising to the surface. “Sitting here and telling you that everyone has suffered in their own way is of no use, we both know they have, nor is it of any use for me to tell you pretty phrases and lies that all are so generic and irrelevant here. So I’ll tell you something different.”

Aedion sat back, rolling off his feet and slumping back onto the hardwood floor so he could lean against the bed behind him.

“I’m sorry I let the men who abused you into our home.”

The air left Aedion’s chest in what great breath.

“Aelin and I should have never allowed the monarchs of Adarlan to sit in your private dining room, by your daughter's side, during a week where we discussed the war crimes they committed against your people.”

“Allowing those people to once again make you feel unsafe and hated, in your own home no less, is unforgivable.” There was a viscous look in Rowan’s eyes, hidden behind the guilt and shame for what Aedion had just endured under his roof. “I swear to you, that will never happen again.”

The air around them shifted and Aedion hardly dared to breathe, to move, not as something so intrinsic to his soul shifted and cracked at Rowan’s words.

“You are my brother,” The King’s voice broke on the title, voice growing hoarse as tears slowly began to spill down Aedion’s face. “I should have defended you to my last breath.”

A choked sob broke free, probably from Aedion but he was soon crushed against a hard chest. It was all he could do to cling to Rowan, hands fisting the back of the male’s shirt as he tucked his head into his neck. Rowan curled around him, clutching him tightly as though he feared Aedion would drift away if he didn’t.

“I’m so sorry.” Rowan whispered against the top of Aedion’s head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Never again.”

The King’s tears dripped onto Aedion’s shoulder, silent and mournful against Aedion's trembling body that echoed his shaky breaths.

“I swear to you, it will never happen again.”

– – – 

Rowan had thankfully developed some cosmetics skills over the years and managed to use some cold ice to soothe the puffy red skin under Aedion’s eyes. Part of him felt embarrassed for breaking apart in the male’s arms, a thought that lasted all of a second before Rowan started to help clean him up and get packed.

A new peace had formed between them since last night. Before all of this Aedion would have called Rowan his brother, albeit a little hesitantly and with the awkward ganglyness of an eager younger cousin desperate for the older kid’s approval. Things between them had also been quite strange thanks to Rowan’s marriage and mateship to Aelin. That was something neither of them wanted to discuss with each other. But now? Aedion didn’t hesitate anymore.

So when Rowan helped tie Aedion’s pack onto the back of his horse he accepted the action with an appreciative nod rather than defensively lashing out at the male for babying him. And when Fenrys eventually started ribbing the king a couple hours into that day’s ride, Aedion would occasionally take Rowan’s side. Occasionally.

Gavriel walked quietly at the back of their group, Vaughan had long since left his side, moving to the front where he and Lorcan talked quietly to each other. Fenrys’ had tracked the Osprey’s movement with a predatory gaze, watching as he left Gavriel on his own.

For a moment Aedion thought the White Wolf might say something to Gavriel– or him. 

No, the wolf didn’t say anything, he only cast a quick grin over his shoulder to Aedion as he guided his horse into a trott, eager to catch up to where Rowan had carefully slunk off.

“Aelin won’t be pleased if you leave me behind!” Fenrys calls out and Aedion can hear Rowan’s sigh from four paces back. “She’d never forgive you!”

“She really wouldn’t.”

Aedion hid his surprise at the murmured voice by his side.

“It always surprises me that Fenrys and her majesty are so close.”

Aedion shrugged at the Lion’s words, “They endured the unspeakable together.” Something which Rowan was acutely aware of if he were letting Fenrys flutter around him like an eager pup. It wasn’t hard to notice that the wolf was rarely comfortable unless he was by the King or Queen’s side.

“How war and strife have a way of bonding us.”

“Or tearing us apart.” Aedion couldn’t help but counter, arching a brow at the Lion. “I’m sure you of all people know how quickly the world can turn to dog eat dog.”

Gavriel stared at him for long moments, a look in his eye that Aedion couldn’t decipher. 

“Yes, I’m sure you know that as well.”

It was an effort not to bristle, to remain relaxed in his saddle. Unfortunately they all had steady and confident horses who rarely needed guidance or fussing, which meant Aedion couldn’t even pretend to busy himself with his mare.

He knew where Gavr– his father was taking this conversation. Clearly he was still uncomfortable about what had happened this morning. 

“Your childhood was so different from mine.” Gavriel states plainly, brows furrowing as glances between Aedion and the forest around them. “I came from a wealthy family of merchants with two brothers who were better at running the estate than I was.”

“I always thought your family would be warriors.”

Your. Not ours. Because Aedion’s family were warriors, the children he had grown up with on the battlefields, the soldiers by his side, they were fighters.

Gavriel ruefully laughed, “No, gods no.”

“My eldest brother, Elias, had an aptitude for maths and was eager to follow in our father’s footsteps. He makes a good Lord with his mate, Arlo, by his side. My youngest brother, Reuben, got a taste for travel and tends to go with our family’s merchant ships across the seas.”

“So not fighters.”

“No, adventurers maybe, family men definitely, but neither of them were good at fighting. I was too brash and rough for them.”

Aedion knew the feeling well.

“Your mother was in a similar position.”

He stilled at Gavriel’s words, surprised the male would bring up the woman they don’t talk about. Whenever he had mentioned her passing Gavriel had always grown sad and tense, drifting off into the background for a few days as though she had died months ago instead of years. 

Some part of him had been relieved that his father still grieved, like it was penance for him not being there. After a while Aedion had grown sick of it, angry that his father thought he had any right to still grieve. An angry rant to Aelin and Rowan later had him thoroughly chastised and reminded that both the King and Queen grieved their former loves still– it wasn’t something that went away.

“Gods she was so bold and vicious.” There was a soft smile lighting up Gavriel’s face as he tilted his face up to the sky. “Her family wanted a delicate princess, concerned with building alliances and winning allies through charm.”

“I take it she didn’t do that.”

“Oh she did,” Pride filled Gavriel’s expression, a bragging quality to his tone that Aedion had heard in his own voice when he had spoken of Lysandra. “Just not how her family wanted. She argued her way into trade meetings, winning them over with her knowledge of politics and bargaining with various lords where she could. What use did she have for delicate flirting when she could play the game better than any King’s Advisor?”

Aedion straightened up slightly, proud of what his mother had accomplished. Rarely, so rarely had heard stories of his mother. She was too much of a disgrace to be spoken about in Wendlyn by the Ashryvers, and Evalin was too consumed by Grief to speak of her.

“When I realised she could have had a child…” When he had seen Aelin at Mistward and feared he could have sired a child. “At first I had pictured a life of luxury, of her raising a little helion to follow in her footsteps.”

Gavriel clenched his jaw, “Then it all came crashing down when I remember that she was gone and home destroyed.”

“I did have a good childhood.”

“For 10 years at the most,” Gavriel cut in, dismissing Aedion’s quiet attempt at reassurance. “I know full well that they had started preparing you for war from a young age.”

“Still, there were good moments in those early years,” Aedion let his expression crumple with something like pity for the male before him, the one full of honour and pride who had learnt his son had been raised on battlefields and in concentration camps. “I won’t let anyone write over those good few years I had with Darrow, Quinn and Rhoe.”

Gavriel’s expression flickered at the mention of the three names.

“Evalin was too caught up in grief at the beginning, and then she had to think of Aelin during the pregnancy and early years so she was never around, but the other’s did their best.”

“They let you be raised by Darrow and the Captain of the guard.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the disgusted disdain in Gavriel’s voice, loud enough that the conversation paused up at head. Aedion had no doubt they were all keeping one ear on the conversation he was having with his father, he couldn’t blame them for being so curious. After all, he had dragged through his drama for the last two weeks, they might as well get some answer as to why he is the way he is.

But, “Darrow is a good man.” He insisted, still smiling from his laughter. “Just because you only know the grieving shell that lost his lover and his people, doesn’t mean he wasn’t brutal and strong during the war and rebellion.”

“I don’t doubt his strength,” Gavriel countered, keeping his voice polite and respectful. “I’m doubting his ability to raise a child.”

Aedion hummed in thought, accepting Gavriel’s challenge as he thought back on his early childhood. It was hard not to look back with a rose tinted view, or to look back and only see the horrors of war. 

“He used to mash carrots in with potatoes.” 

The words come out so suddenly that Gavriel frowns at the statement, confused as to what Aedion was saying.

“I couldn’t stand vegetables when I was little and Darrow was determined that I would eat a fully meal.”

Hazy memories flooded back to him, Darrow finding a young Aedion hiding in the stables or up in trees with a plate of food.

“I refused to eat for a good few weeks when I first got here, enough that the healers started fearing I would collapse from starvation. Most of the maids had given up, saying that if I wanted to die of a broken heart for my mother then there was nothing they could do.”

Gavriel’s expression dropped and Aedion suddenly regretted revealing to his father that he could have lost his son at the mere age of two.

“Darrow was a stubborn mule even then,” Aedion grinned at the memory of a younger Darrow, without a speck of grey in his hair. “He refused to let me wither away. He didn’t care what I ate at the beginning so long as I ate.”

Aedion chuckled to himself, “He once found me hiding in the dog house, playing with the new pups. We sat together, in the hay, reeking of wet dogs while we played with the newborns and ate plate after plate of cheese puff potatoes.”

“Eventually he grew stricter and was determined to get me to eat vegetables.” Aedion shook his head at the memories of how rude and brash he had been back then. “Gods I got into so many arguments with him over carrots of all things.”

“Quinn was much more of a push over,” Aedion’s smile turned sad. “He would always sneak Aelin extra tarts during the long boring dinners. Despite the fact he was the one who taught me how to fight, he disagreed entirely that I should have been learning at all. He was always quick to send me off early when he saw the other kids playing in the streets.”

“I always pictured you as a lonely child.”

“Oh I was.” Aedion didn’t bother disagreeing and Gavriel blinked in surprise at the quick response. “Having Aelin was such a relief, I dedicated myself to her, made sure I knew everything she might want; how to braid hair, how to make flower crowns, anything to keep her entertained– especially when the other kids all hated and feared the two of us.”

It had always bothered him that none of the other girls wanted to play with Aelin, they tried at first but either they or their parents got scared by the fiery outbursts that followed tantrums. Aedion couldn’t entirely blame them, if Evangeline was around someone who could hurt her he would take her away as well but that wasn’t something he acknowledged until he had a child of his own.

“They pitted the boys against each other, Ren and I were at each other’s throat fighting for the blood oath,” Aedion regretted those days so much, the ally he could have had in Ren, the friend, had been taken from him so easily by amused advisors eager to find out who was strongest. “Everyone knew it was going to be me, even if the advisors disagreed thanks to my links with Wendlyn, it would be Aelin’s decision and she had always chosen me.”

There was a sad sort of pride in his voice as he acknowledged the wishes of his younger self. What odd dreams for a child to have.

“She was your whole world.” Gavriel whispered, staring at Aedion in a new light. “That’s why you were…”

Fucking furious when Rowan took the blood oath.

“I had no family but her.” Aedion stated plainly, “I had nothing without the blood oath, no title, home, family… I would have been cast aside without it, sequestered away in some cottage to be raised quietly so Evalin could reassure herself that she cared for her cousin’s son.”

“You sound a little obsessed.”

Their head’s snap forward at Fenrys’ statement. The wolf allows his horse to slow enough for the pair to catch up to him.

“Honestly Aedion, you really need other hobbies beside Aelin.”

He rolls his eyes, unable to disagree with the wolf.

“But seriously, Pup, why were you so obsessed with her?”

Aedion frowns, “Didn’t I just answer that?”

Fenrys shrugged, “As much as older kids look after their siblings they don’t exactly pander to them.”

It was an effort not to let the mood drop at the casual reference to Connall. Still, it did as the light died out in Fenrys’ eyes as he clearly regretted all the times he didn’t pander to Connall.

“Well,” Aeidon drawlled forcing a light tone. “Half the council thought I was her mate.”

There was choked sound uphead, a second of silence before Fenrys registered his words and started cackling.

“You’re not serious.” He spluttered out between his laughter.

“Oh I am.”

Rowan turned back to stare at the three of them, clearly bewildered by Aedion’s statement.

“Oh yeah, your majesty, that was going to be my crown for a good minute there.”

Rowan snorts, the King could no doubt see how quickly that reality would have turned to shit. Aedion Aelin would have killed each other and Aedion would have hated being King.

“Why didn’t you take the crown?”

It was Vaughan’s question that had silence descending. 

“You had royal blood, a connection to the Galathyniuses, why not let Adarlan or Darrow put you on the throne?” 

Well fuck this was an awkward conversation.

The males would no doubt know if he were bullshitting but–

“We considered it for a good while.” It was hard to think of that time. “The people of Terrasen most likely wouldn’t accept me since it would look like I had been planning ahead the whole time, gaining Rhoe and Evalin’s trust before stabbing them in the back. Others might not have care about that but I didn’t have the right Royal blood, even if I was a member of royalty.”

“That the political answer,” Vaughan pointed out. “Not why you didn’t push for it.”

“I didn’t want the title.” Aedion answered simply. “I would have been useless to my people as a king, no more than a puppet for Adarlan or Wendlyn or the Terrasen Lords.”

Vaughan tilted his head curiously, clearly intrigued by Aedion’s answer.

“It was easier to rule Terrasen as General.”

He couldn’t help but smirk at the Osprey’s flickering expression.

“Or did you think the people of Terrasen were floundering and lost this entire time?” he challenged before shrugging easily in a human movement. “Sure, they were, but between myself and the remaining Terrasen Lords we kept the show on the road.”

“The Lords–”

“We're under Adarlan’s thumb.” Aedion stated firmly, “Darrow and Allsbrook were the most defiant, they worked directly with the rebels while the other lords were just desperate for themselves and their people to survive - by any means necessary.”

“Between the three of us,” Aedion continued, thinking back to those days in the rebellion when it was him, Darrow and Allsbrook filtering reports and arranging troops. “We commanded Terrasen’s army and people.”

“You would have been 18.” Vaughan stated blankly. 

“16, actually,” Aedion grinned, a savage expression of pride, “I was a lieutenant then but I was quickly working my way through Adarlan's ranks. We needed as much power as we could get. The rebels helped orchestrate many wins and executions that built a name for the Bane.”

“You make it sound like theatre.”

“It was.” 

“Aelin said that there were rumours of corpses walking off battle fields,” Rowan’s voice echoed from up ahead as he stared at Aedion with narrowed eyes. “She had feared it was valg movements.’

“Plain old humans I’m afraid,” Aedion shrugged, “We’d play-act most of the skirmishes, soldiers would dramatically fall and when night descended they would walk off the battlefields back to their families.”

“How the fucking hell did you get away with that?” Fenrys demanded, incredulous at all the bullshit that Aedion had gotten away with. He too often wondered that.

“Arrogance and the balls to actually attempt it?” He smirked before rolling his eyes. “And executing every single messenger and traitor that attempted to run back to Adarlan. That was the hardest bit about every theatre production, waiting for the rats to start scurrying away and picking them off one by one.”

“Let me guess,” Lorcan drawled as he finally joined in their conversation. “You used their bodies to fill in for the reanimated corpses.”

“Ten points to Lord Lorchan Locan everyone!”

Fenrys whooped whooped at his statement, breaking out into a quick chant of ‘Lorcan! Lorcan!’ until the male glared at him, seething as he snarled.

“Can we ever have one normal conversation with you two.” Gavriel muttered.

Aedion wasn’t entirely sure which two he was referencing.

– – –

Aedion tried not to let his exhaustion as they finally decided to make camp somewhere deep into the forest at the base of the mountain range. Maybe he had severely underestimated how fast and far these males would be travelling. They only slowed long enough to have a chat while eating their food on their move before racing off again at a brisk trot. He was genuinely quite grateful for the horses needing a rest because he wanted to collapse as well.

Lorcan sighed for the third time since they had stopped and Aedion nearly snarled at him to shut up as he started removing the packs from their horses.

“Seriously Lorcan,” Fenrys huffed, “It’s not horses’ fault that they’re a human breed and not a fae breed.”

“Our horses would have lasted longer.”

Aedion cut a desperate look at Rowan, his new ally in this mess now that he had abandoned Lorcan and his brutal commander pace. The king only quirked a brow at him, lips pursing to hide his amused smile as he noticed Aedion’s exhausted expression.

“I think the pup would like a break as well.” 

“I hate you.” he whispered to the King even as his father perked up from beside the fire he was building, like his paternal instincts had suddenly appeared out of the blue. Aedion glanced over his shoulder to the Lion, uttering a quick “I’m fine” before hauling his pack off his mare and onto the floor.

“Does the pup need his–”

“I will actually kill you while you sleep.” Aedion hissed to Fenrys.

Lorcan sighed again.

He was going to kill the commander as well.

“You know we can see your murderous thoughts on your face?” Fenrys smirked as he glanced between Aedion and Lorcan. “I give you a 10 to 1 chance of survival.”

“I’ll poison your food.”

“I’ll get hunt my own.”

“I’ll scream loud enough to scare them all off.”

“As if your ugly face wouldn’t do that already.”

“Boys.” Gavriel cut in, “get unpacked so we can start cooking.”

Aedion turned away from the White Wolf with a silent huff, irritated by Fenrys’ ribbing when he was already so tired. Rowan had already started unpacking their bags, placing himself in the middle of Aedion and Fenrys. A bold move if Aedion ever saw one but Rowan clearly knew he was the favourite brother to be thought of.

Fenrys shifted as he moved away, a quiet action that had every male struggling to not acknowledge the change. There was once a time when Fenrys shifted easily, after what Maeve did to Aelin he stayed in his wolf form, unable to bear being human once more when there was no queen to demand it of him. 

He had only shifted for the battle and had rarely shifted back. The male had confessed to Aelin, who had implied to Aedion, that it was because of Connall. Fenrys was now a lone wolf, a fate which bothered him often.

So everyone made a great effort to not see the shift as a big deal when Fenrys went over and curled up on his bed roll, hiding his nose in his bushy tail.

Dinner was a quiet affair, at least for Aedion, the others spoke easily, clearly taking advantage of the peace and quiet they had now that both Fenrys and Aedion were sleepily drifting off.

Surrounded by the cadre, their quiet chatter filing the air, it was so easy for Aedion to drift off. Curling into his bed roll as his leg brushed against Rowan’s, where the king still sat before the fire conversing with his brothers-in-arms. The sound of his father and Lorcan murmuring away to each other followed Aedion off into a peaceful sleep. 

For the first time since the Adarlan lords visited two weeks ago Aedion finally had a good night’s sleep.

– – –

When the sun rose the next morning Aedion was one of the first to rise. No had woken him to take watch and he couldn’t help but be grateful even as he bristled a little at not being allowed to pull his weight.

Vaughan was already tending to fire and when Aedion glanced around he found his father missing from the makeshift campsite.

Aedion slowly rose to his feet, careful not to wake Rowan who had rolled closer to Aedion during the night, no doubt thanks to the white wolf sprawled out against the King’s back. Vaughan glanced up at the movement, nodding his head in a silent good morning as Aedion joined him around the growing fire.

Already there were strips of fresh meat prepared by the fireside, Vaughan silently handed Aedion a hunting knife and large hare for him to start sleepily preparing. The movements were all muscle memory by now and the familiar patterns nearly lulled Aedion back to sleep.

Eventually he was jolted back to the present by the sound of trotting feet, soon enough a mountain lion appeared along the tree line, two hares caught in his mouth. There was no fear when Aedion saw his father appear, one part of his brain told him to be afraid but that instinctive part of him ignored the learnt fear.

“Finally,” Vaughan murmured, keeping his voice low with a fae softness that had Aedion struggling to hear his words. “You were gone for ages.”

Hares dumped down on the ground, Gavriel shifted back with a bright flash, rolling his eyes at Vaughan before greeting Aedion with a soft smile.

“Hares are fast, and the underbrush is rough here.”

Aedion snorts, “Amateurs.”

Both males fix him with dark gazes.

He only shrugs under the weight of their stares, “Everyone knows to wait by their burrows, chasing after them is a waste of time.”

“Well maybe if you woke up early enough…”Gavriel teased lightly as he sat down beside them to help clean his kills. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like the dead.”

Gavriel narrows his eyes at him, playful yet annoyed.

“Well that’s good, because we’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

Aedion grinned, finally excited for this camping trip.

A/N: Well I bet you weren’t expecting a 10,000 word long epilogue, but hey, you got one, so yay.

I’ve updated my new series “Fatherhood Woes: Gavriel & Aedion” with two short fluff pieces. This series will focus on Gavriel and Aedion rather than The Cadre and Aedion, there may be overlap between the two series and some works may appear in both.