107 Stories of Rowaelin

17. The Silver Theater

     "Kel, Rowan and I will be fine. We do not need any guards." Queen Aelin Ashryver Galathynius of Terrasen stared down at the dark-skinned Captain of the Guard. The woman didn't move an inch. 

     "Your Majesty, Terrasen is still a newly reborn kingdom. Not everyone is feeling completely benevolent."

     "Rowan and I are two of the most powerful magic-users in the kingdom.  It'd be quite difficult to assassinate us."

     Kel fixed Aelin with a look. "That's as may be, but it only takes two arrows."

     Aelin's patience was waning. "And how, pray tell, will guards defend from arrows?"

     "As you know, our guards are trained not only to fight but to be aware of dangers. Being aware of a threat is the first step to eliminating it."

     Aelin sighed. She hated arguing with Kel. The other woman always won. "Alright, alright. But no more than two."

     "Yes, your Majesty."

      Aelin flopped down onto the couch beside Rowan. "Your meeting with Kel didn't go quite as planned I take it?" 

     Aelin snuggled into her mate's warmth. "I got her down to two. I'm excited to go to the opening of the Silver Theater. Somehow, Florine-- my dance teacher from Adarlan-- got Rena Goldsmith's protegeé, who is apparently just as good if not better.

      "Remember when you took me to the Royal Theater in Rifthold?" Aelin felt more than heard the rumble of Rowan's words.

     "It was that that gave me the idea. Your hair was the inspiration for the name."

       He sat up. "It was not!  

      She gave him a lazy grin. "No, it wasn't, but it worked out that way." She stretched luxuriously and slid off the couch. "We should get dressed. You'll like tonight's dress."

     He did like tonight's dress. Aelin could tell. She wore green and silver, the royal colors of Terrasen. The front was richly embroidered and a white stag galloped down her back. Rowan's suit was green with hints of silver. Tiny white stags lined the cuffs. "We're patriotic today." 

     Aelin flipped her hair over her shoulder. "And fabulous."

     Sitting in their box at the Silver Theater, Aelin and Rowan watched as Florine's dancers whirled with their sun-lanterns. The dance of Mala had been prepared specially for the opening and for Aelin's attendance. The bright figures on the stage whirled and dipped, their lanterns creating smears of light on the darkness of the boxes. As one, they formed a semi-circle and smashed their lanterns, creating such a flash that the audience was still blinking the afterimage from their eyes when a reedy little man scurried onstage.

     "And now, ladies and gentleman, the moment you've all been waiting for, the one and only Adrienne Falcion!" The man scurried off and a young woman with dark hair and huge brown eyes stepped onto the stage, followed by a man with a violin and a woman carrying a flute. Adrienne stepped to the front of the stage. 

     "About a year ago, my teacher and greatest friend, Rena Goldsmith, sang this song in front of the court of Adarlan. That night, she was murdered for it." Aelin remembered that day. No one ever saw the legendary singer again. Adrienne continued. "Tonight, I hope to sing this song in a better light, and to honor the memory of Rena Goldsmith." Without another word, she began to sing.

     The world stilled. Not a child fidgeted, not a man wiped his eye, not a lady reached for her handkerchief. If people cried, they let the tears fall freely down their cheeks as Adrienne sang. The sounds of outside died away as people leaned forward to catch the strands of music.

    It was the same song, but Aelin saw it now in a different light-- her own. The loneliness as the Fae .woman in the song, and she, Aelin, served those kings who feared her and used her. The story of how the knight-- Rowan-- had come, and how he had come to see her not for her horrible, profound power, but for herself, the woman beneath. Distantly, she felt tears sliding down her cheeks. And the song wove through the hall, and then it was over. And Aelin had to remember how to breathe, how to think. She looked to her left, to see Rowan's eyes shimmering with tears. 

     "You-- you understand it?"

     Her mate nodded. "It's-- it's us." 

     Aelin blinked the tears out of her eyes. "Come on. I want to find Adrienne."

     Being the Queen of Terrasen had its perks, and one was getting backstage at the theater you built. Aelin and Rowan found Adrienne sitting at a mirror running a brush through her hair. When the singer spotted them, she leaped up, curtsying deeply. "Your Majesty! Your Highness!"

     "Thank you," said Aelin quietly. "You are always welcome to come back and sing."

     Adrienne looked down at the floor. "Thank you for letting me perform."

    "You know, Dorian Havilliard is building a memorial to Rena Goldsmith and all the others his father killed." Aelin turned to look at Rowan. She hadn't heard this bit of news. "It's going to be in the very center of Rifthold. He says that anyone is welcome to visit."

    Tears welled in the singer's brown eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.

    Rowan nodded to the clock in the square outside. "We have to go."

    "Thank you again for your song," Aelin added. The words "thank you" were inadequate for what she felt.

    As they rode back to the palace, Rowan reached out to wordlessly hold Aelin's hand.

This was inspired by a tumblr post that has been bouncing around a lot. If you comment, I won't see it for four week because I'm going to sleepaway camp, but please feel free to comment fic ideas and what you think!