when nesryn died, a nation lost its empress. a khagan lost his wife. but chaol, chaol lost his friend. the friend who had seen him through his recovery, his healing. who had never flinched from her duty as captain of the guard, however short a time it was. aelin was with him then, and she mourned, grieved, and healed with him, remembering her as the archer, the fighter, the empress, the warrior.
when chaol died, yrene died too. the two lay in their bed, a strange array of guests surrounding them, including the king of adarlan, the queen of terrasen, and an array of fae warriors. the two went silently, hands clasped to the very end, and aelin remembered the boy she had loathed and the man who was her friend. one of her first friends after leaving endovier, which seemed like eons ago. yet, when she heard his heart stop beating, a part of her went with him. the part of her who loved unguardedly, the part of her who hadn't known better. dorian cried too. he remembered his friend of a century, who trained and sparred and argued with him, but the friend he loved most. he didn't get out of bed for a few days after chaol died, as if he were missing part of his soul. manon almost couldn't stand his sobs, and had to physically refrain from going in and consoling him, or yelling at him for wasting his final days.
she knew. she knew that his days were numbered too.
when yrene died, chaol died too. aelin watched them, side by side, as they took their last breaths and uttered their last words. they looked each other in the eye, and died. aelin remembered the healer who held such hope, such aspiration in her eyes. the healer who saved the world, and she knew, when she saw yrene in innish, that there was still hope. that there would always be hope, as long as you believed in it; as long as you had faith.
when elide died, a part of lorcan died too. he knew she was dying, could hear the god of death whispering in his ear, even after the god had been destroyed by aelin. he knew, as she took a rasping breath, that it would be her last. her last words to him, whispered quietly as her strength faded. "don't lose yourself," she said, caressing his cheek lovingly. rowan and fenrys stayed by his side, but strangely, it was aelin and manon who offered him the most comfort. death brought people together, you see. even people he had betrayed long ago. they all loved elide deeply, and she them. they grieved together, an invisible, untouchable web of sorrow surrounding them.
when dorian died, a part of manon died too. the man she had been indifferent to, the king she had loved with all her heart and soul, if she had one. she remembered the rare, soft moments in the dark, when they whispered quiet taunts and endearments, the nights when one of them woke up thrashing, the other gently soothing the pains and chasing the nightmares away. she let herself curl up in a fetal ball, sobbing, and only straightened when the queen of terrasen approached.
aelin was there when dorian died, having made the journey to adarlan a few days prior. she approached manon and sunk down next to her, tentatively putting her arms around her. manon allowed it. "witches usually grieve alone," manon murmured, even as she heard her voice tremble. aelin rubbed her shoulder. "yes, but friends grieve together." and so, the two queens could be seen together, pacing the grounds of the castle they had once hated, the palace that had been utterly transformed by the king who always tried to do his best for his people. the king who suffered so, so, much. the king who had lived, laughed, and loved.
when lysandra died, a part of aedion died too. the shape shifter he loved, no matter what form she took. he threw himself into court business and training his armies, anything, anything, to stop himself from breaking apart entirely. aelin found him then, and coaxed the tears out of him, staying by his side as they whispered stories about the shape shifter. stories of two young girls in a society of assassins and thieves, stories of a woman who had been tried and tested in war, wearing not just her own face, but aelin's. the woman who had done so much but received so little recognition for it.
at last, when all their mortal friends had died, aelin, rowan, lorcan, fenrys, manon, and aedion stood together on one of the many balconies of the palace in orynth. at last, aelin discovered the sorrow of being immortal, of staying frozen in time and space as the people you loved died. she discovered that all along, as the world was changing, the immortals stood steadfast, unwavering in the changing winds and tides of the world. she discovered that no amount of time would allow her to forget her friends, the people she loved. she would never allow herself to forget. she wouldn't.
in a world where everything changed, she would remain unchanged. and so, she made a vow to herself. i won't forget you, she promised. i will remember all of you. i love you, forever and always, she whispered, as she repeated the names of the ones she had loved and lost, tracing her fingers over her ribcage where their names were. nesryn. chaol. yrene. dorian. elide. lysandra.
