Rattle the Stars

Chapter 14 Pt. 1

For the mortal queens I will be using a mix of canon and created names for the queens, since half of them are unknown. The three canon names: Briallyn, Demetra, and Vassa. The three names I assigned to the others are Zaleria, Imazel, and Arryn. Who is who will be explained in the chapter😄

The arguing had gone on for hours. The sides had included Aelin and her court, plus Rhys. But the others seemed nervous about any sort of an alliance, after what had happened last time. Finally, everyone simply fell silent, and they all came to a silent agreement. The meeting with the queens would go on. Aelin's purpose would pull through.

"When do we leave?" She demanded.

"You can't just show up with the Mortal Queens," Cassian snorted. "It might take weeks to get a meeting."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, we don't have weeks. Why can't we just show up? Didn't you say you were friends with that one queen? Vassa?" Mor let her head fall in her hands. "Lucien- is friends with Vassa. Not us."

"Then call him and get a meeting. Use all of your damn cards." If it was up to her, Aelin would have stormed a palace. Reckless and bold- exactly her style. But no, diplomacy did exist, and she was't going to ruin the Court of Dreams' chance at this alliance. Besides, she had a feeling that dealing with the Mortal Queens would be eerily akin to dealing with Terrasen's cranky lords.

"I can try," Azriel muttered. "I'll get a message to Lucien as soon as possible, and see what we can do."

That had been nearly 24 hours ago, and now Aelin stood in a cold and wet field outside of an abandoned town hall in what had apparently once been Feyre's village. Poor girl. She stood resolutely with her arms crossed over her pregnant stomach, ignoring every single whisper that drifted in on the icy winds, the midnight moon casting a sheen over the surroundings.

"Feyre Cursebreaker..." "Savior.." "...High Lady..." Whispers of those heading home from taverns and work passed.  Apparently she had undersold herself a great deal. Feyre still seemed slightly uncomfortable here, fidgeting in her coat. But despite it all, Aelin enjoyed the anonymity this world gave her. No one murmured as she passed, or had any expectations of the young queen.

It was almost like being Celaena Sardothien again.

A gruff man came forward, ushering them inside the shaky building. "This place could use some renovations." Aelin muttered. Next to her, Lysandra just snorted, scanning the walls and the bent man leading them inside. He had gnarled, calloused hands, bent with arthritis.

He went so far as to even ignore Feyre, though her eyes flashed with recognition. "Tomas Mandray's father, he's a woodcutter. His son was going to marry Nesta one day." Cassian nearly stopped dead, and turned a fierce glare on the man's back.

Mor just gave a small smile, as if stowing away the action to tease Cassian about later. A pair of doors swung open, revealing a room that was soon to become cramped in the wake of so many people, despite the cavernous space. It was deceptively large.

Seated at Rowan's side, every one sat, sitting in stilted silence. "This is going to go absolutely marvelously, isn't it?" Aelin asked of no one in particular. "Oh yes," Fenrys answered. "Because that's how dealing with stuffy nobles, with their heads up their-"

"Well, that's a new description, if not entirely pleasant." A voice chimed in from the doorway. 6 figures stood there, although the one with fiery hair and blue eyes had spoken. She grinned, the freckles on her face stretching.

"Nice to meet you all." It was Vassa, standing amongst the women in frilly mortal fashion. Aelin herself had forgone wearing a dress entirely, instead donning fighting leathers, thought the temptation to dress up was strong.

"And thank you for accommodating this meeting due to my...unique condition." Yes. The firebird. Two middle-aged queens seated themselves next- complete opposites. One had a black, shimmering dress on, sleeves dripping, and a face as cold as stone, a frown placed on her lips.

The woman beside her wore a identical white dress, brilliant smile on and a sugar sweet face. It took a moment, but she was able to identify the former as Queen Imazel and the latter as Queen Arryn. A withered crone was assisted by heavily uniformed guards into her chair, but it was easy enough to clue into who Briallyn had once been. The Inner Circle had told Aelin enough.

Withered by the Cauldron, of all the diabolical schemes. (If you get this sneaky reference, you deserve a cookie and a shoutout.) Why one person would be stupid enough to willingly throw themselves into something like that, she didn't know. Last but not least, the formerly eldest of the queens sat, coffee skin shining against her creased face that didn't match her powerful stance. Queen Zaleria, it seemed, accompanied by the golden Queen Demetra.

Zaleria had her mouth pinched, on the edge of her seat, like the hurriedly scrubbed wood disgusted her.

The tension was already thick, all gazes upon Aelin and her court, and the faint crown fire newly dancing upon her brow. "Well then," She chirped. "Let's begin."

Pretty much filler- but this it to tide you over since my family needs me and I can't do anymore today. Part 2 coming tomorrow!