" eyes forward. " bite in voice --- not of venom ; thousand - sulfur eyes abloom in knowingness. " expecting a fair fight that won't come will get you killed. "
the daughter of death stirs — emerald - ringed - with - light depths snapping back to attention — hollowed under eyes rimmed exhaustion, defeat, resignation. the princess turned assassin turned rebel bears little resemblance to the before — cheek bearing the same symbol as those around her, hands stained with the same mortal ichor, soul carved by tragedy. aelin's fingers rest against her twinblade, against the ghost of her mother, as the memories stir — a reminder of weakness, deceit — how her frail, weak body had finally met its limits moments before cid had descended upon the valley & remembered her name, the silver lady. look ahead, never behind — for what remained of her memories could only be described as cruel & desolate.
aelin shakes her head. princess, assassin, daughter, soldier. the very foundations of her were all fighting one another — the different masks, the different roles — even now, glimpses of the future are obscured by whatever presence thinks they're the most correct. she's not certain she could ever return to that. to that kindness, to that process — to that softness that everyone else seems capable of showing ( even to her, no matter how criminal her behavior, how reactionary. ) she could not do it — would not do it. it isn't possible to return back to that sweet summer child, wind - blown tresses, bright eyes, picture image of her mother.
her father the king ynyr ap virion once settled his palm over her sunlight-spun tresses, heavy ornate rings tangling, fingers cupping—a weight to match the heaviness of the crystalline diadem that would someday sit upon her own head, her father's only heir—&sternly spoke to her," a ruler must never beg their comrades for aid, but barter for it. you must show strength. "but when the remains of their kingdom had come to the borders of sanbreque, outside of the high walls of oriflamme, cousin had looked upon cousin&denied him the kindness of greagor.
bàsvelgr rumbles deep inside her chest, black flame licking up her palms. remember who we are, his warmth urges — the voice of her mother, the voice of her father, corpse - like & hollow. if she cannot look back, she cannot hope to push forward — so with the last memory of their laughter, she moves heavensward. they've come to haunt her — embarrassingly, she's reminded of clive & his own struggles, his weakness, his perseverance — & how even he manages to withstand these fateful callings. eyes forward, lightning says — eva says — cid says. the weight of the lance is not enough to hold her back, to prevent her from channeling these rivers of blood — so without fear, aelin leaps to flee the voices calling out for her. it's a rush she'll never forget.
if she cannot be aelin bàsvelgr nox ynyr, then she will have to become the next best thing. sweet, hidden name — hidden princess no longer, but one of them. a rebel, a deceiver, a freed soul. to shed the chains that tried to prevent her from flying higher than the sun. truly, it was only a matter of time before she confessed it, accepted it — allowed it to be known to the world, to their people — to those pretty depths of her own heart.
aelin bàsvelgr highbridge ferch cidolfus catches the light in the palm of her hand — body bursting brilliant flame as priming rustles just beneath the skin, to the brilliance of the light. & with bàsvelgr's grace, she reaches the stars — comes barreling down hotter than a supernova, than a solstice, than an eclipse — with quiet pride. the training dummy splinters, the practice lance shatters — but aelin stands tall, heat billowing from her nostrils snake - like & charming — sparkling with infinite power, deserved.
" it never has to be a fair fight again. " she shrugs. " but this time, i'll have the advantage. "
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