𝐌𝐚𝐞𝐯𝐞'𝐬 𝐎𝐰𝐥, 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 ➵ ᶠᵉⁿʳʸˢ ᵐᵒᵒⁿᵇᵉᵃᵐ ˣ ᵒᶜ

#Part ₇ - Wʜʏ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʀʏ?

can i just say how grateful i am to see this fic has 400+ reads?! like oh my gosh, you guys mean so much to me and i'm truly so happy and thankful i love you all so much and i hope your enjoying the fic ❤️‍🔥🤭

⤛⤚⟞༺☼༻⟝⤙⤜

Rayla:

        Days had passed, she had almost lost track, almost. But she hadn't not yet, not as she was reminded continuously by the 'schedule'  that Cairn had kept up with. It was easy enough for her to memorise it, especially with being able to see the day and night, from a distance.

She hadn't lost her spark over the centuries under Maeve's grasp, but now she just felt hopeless. She was loosing hope. She was loosing herself, after all the years of silently obeying.  All she could do was just, watch.

       Rayla kept loosing focus, because she couldn't help, but keep stealing glances at the white wolf. She didn't know why, but he had sparked her interest from the very start he had been dragged into the lies of Maeve's court—centuries ago. She always knew the white wolf did the same, she always caught him watching her, sometimes she even looked back.

Rayla felt a great abyss in her soul, pooling with blood, she was drowning in it. Drowning in herself. There was only one thing tethering her very life, to this world.

       A blink of an eye, and Rayla straightened; she felt Aelin awaken in the iron coffin. Only mere feet away she could sense the white wolfs awareness, the scent that waved through the air made her glance at Fenrys.

Fenrys was numb and angry.

     Cairn began to make his way over to the coffin, lining his face with the engraved eye holes, he unsheathed his dagger saying something, something Rayla didn't pay attention to, slowly he dragged the tip of it across the coffin surface, taunting. No response.

No response ever came.

     "I've been thinking how to repay you when I let you out." Cairn said, to the locked away queen.

The smell of salted tears drifted, and she knew Aelin was crying, Rayla couldn't help but ruffle her wings, the smallest movement, but hopefully one recognised as a comfort.

Cairn's hissed threats danced through the air, his knife scraping and scraping.

The air was getting thin, and Rayla watched as Cairn scraped his dagger over the metal, right above where Aelin's head would be.

"When I cut you up this time, bitch, I'm going to—"

Pound.

Cairn paused. So did Rayla's breath.

      The metal had rattled, the echo from the inside of the coffin a distant sound.

Raylas blood struck her like a cold needle, colder then a winters night, colder, as Aelin slammed her fist into the iron again. Again.

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Aelin:

Evalin's face didn't falter. You are my daughter. You were born of two mighty bloodlines. That strength flows through you. Lives in you.

Evalin's face blazed with the fierceness of the woman who had come before the, all the way back to the Faerie Queen whose eyes they both bore.