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

#Part ₁₁ - Oɴᴇ Sᴛᴇᴘ Aʜᴇᴀᴅ

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Fenrys:

He had been dreaming—dreaming was an understatement, because his dream was more so like a live nightmare.

He had watched Aelin give up in his dre- nightmare; he had watched himself; the worst of them all was the mental knife striking him through his own heart, not by the force of a blade, no.

It had been something far worse, something he did not want know.

He forced his eyes open, and lifted his head in an instant, ears twitching.

He awoke to Aelin chained to an ugly metal table, he blinked as Cairn shoved through the tent flaps– the only thing he could do by his own will.

Cairn spoke, "Enjoy your rest?"

Aelin nor him responded, they didn't have a response for his stupid remark.

He watched a grubby hand was raised, watched as Cairn ran a hand down the metals table's edge. "I've been debating what to do with you, you know. How to really savour this, make it special for us both before our time is through."

Fenrys's snarl rumbled through his ear, and through the tent. Cairn just swept the cloth from the smaller table.

Low metal dishes on three legs, piled with unlit logs.

He watched as Aelin stiffened as Cairn hauled one over, and set it beneath the foot of the metal table. A smaller brazier, its legs cut short for its bowl to hover barely above the ground.

Cairn set the second brazier below the table's centre. The third at the head, under Aelin's concealed face.

Fenrys watched as Cairn taunted Aelin, about every. single. part of her. he had tortured.

Fenrys watched as Aelin began shaking, began tugging on the chains anchoring her arms over her head. Cairns smile grew.
No, No, No, No, No.

"Let's see how your entire body reacts to flame without your special little gift. Perhaps you'll burn like the rest of us."

Aelin was yanking uselessly at her chains, Fenrys was growling, his ears twitching recklessly.

Cairn reached into his pocket and withdrew some flint.

There was nothing Fenrys could do apart from let his vicious snarl roll on, endless.

Cairn said mildly, "You can scream all you like, if it pleases you."

The table would turn red-hot, and the scent of burning flesh would fill his nose, and he wouldnt be able to stop it, stop him; Aelin would sob in agony, as the burns wielded their way into her skin –into bone.

Fenrys vision was blurring, Cairn continued to pry something from his pocket and say something, directed at Aelin.

Cairn took a step forward, and there in his hand that he weighed carefully, was flint.

Please. No.

Aelin began fraying in her place.

Cairn crouched beside the table, flint raised.

"Wait." Aelin rasped.

Cairn paused, and so did Fenrys heart, only for a moment. Cairn rose from his crouch. "Wait?"

Aelin shook, her breathing a ragged pattern from the other side of the tent. "Wait."

Cairn crossed his arms. "Do you have something you'd like to say at last?"

Fenrys watched and thought for a moment, whatever she was about to say or do, or was thinking would not have a good outcome, certainly not for her.

Cairn would let Aelin promise anything to him, to Maeve. And would then still light those fire beneath her body. Even if Aelin did give in, Maeve would not hear of her yielding for days.

Fenrys looked at the small slits in the iron mask adorning her face, Aelin met Cairns stare, her gauntlet-covered fingers pressing into the iron slab beneath her.

Oh gods, please.

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Rayla:

Rayla watched and watched only minutes before the guards would switch over their posts. But she wouldn't wait that long, not when she knew, that is when Rowan will pounce.

She didn't give it a second thought before she zig zagged through trees and soared through the sky.

She merely just looked like a white barn owl.

She glided gracefully through the winds, not drawing any unwanted attention towards herself as she carefully landed on a tree on the inside of the fierce camp.

She stayed there watching like a hawk, she noticed a few Fae soldiers mumbling about their first sighting of a white owl. She turned her head around looking behind her, acting natural, she ruffled her wings.

When she felt no more looming eyes on her she finally turned towards the tent that she had marked out as Cairns.

Although it looked like any simple tent, just larger in size, it didn't stop the grief-filled aurora, radiating from it.

It was full of death, but simply looked normal.

No one noticed as the white barn owl figure flew right past them in a flash of light. She was as quick as wind, was the wind.

She casted a barrier of serpent thick wind around his tent. She landed on the top of it, right next to a hole with smoke pouring out of it.

She made sure no one saw before she slipped in the tent, being met with a horrible scene.

What laid before her was chaotic.

Aelin Galathynius's head was bleeding crimson, Cairn was knocked to the ground, and Fenrys was violently shaking, which was impossible.

Are her eyes deceiving her?

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Song of the MONTH:

' Labour By Paris Paloma

**The song's title—"Labour"—works on multiple levels, referencing the emotional, mental, and physical labor women have historically performed to maintain their marriages, as well as the myth of the non-working wife. In reality, the average woman in history has done some kind of work, whether it's working in the fields alongside their husband and children or even more specialized work.

The pre-chorus challenges the myths of homemakers not being laborers, with Paloma singing, "Who tends the orchards? / Who fixes up the gables? ... Who fetches the water/ From the rocky mountain spring? / And walk back down again / To feel your words and their sharp sting?"

Women have always done hard labor in order to maintain a household, but may still get called lazy for "lounging around at home all day."**

— to read about it more don't be afraid to search up the meaning of the song and read the articles as this is from 'The Mary Sue' — By Kimberly Terasaki Mar 27th, 2023, 6:34 pm

~Dedicated to this March, also known as
Woman's History month 🩷💐

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stay safe everyone 🫶🏼💕

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(1102words)

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