After the Empire (Complete)

1 - Aelin

I can't breath, I can't think. 

The inside of my box, my prison, is dark. It is so dark that I can't tell if my eyes are open or closed. I would put my hand to my face to check, but I don't have that much room.

I think it may have been days since the beach, since I was thrown in here, since I watched Rowan's face vanish behind these iron walls. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's been minutes. Maybe it's been months. Time doesn't seem to have any meaning anymore. Except in the context of wondering how long I've been away from them. 

I hope they're doing alright. I hope Lysandra is fooling them. I hope that they are still fighting. 

I hope that Rowan is still fighting. 

I can't bear to think of the alternative. I can't bear to think of him, having lost another mate. Broken as he hasn't been since Lyria. I can't bear to think of him hurting like that, with nobody to hold his pieces together. 

I force myself not to think any of them. I force myself to forget Rowan, forget his face and the way his hair feels against my fingertips. I drive Aedion's face and Lysandra's coy smile from my thoughts. I package all the memories, all the sadness, all the love, and I shove it into a box in the corner of my heart. 

Because my love is a weakness, and I can't afford any weaknesses. 

I am Celaena Sardothien and I will not be afraid. I am Aelin Ashryver Galanthius and I will not be afraid. I am an assassin, I am a queen. I am a girl, and I am a goddess. I am blades and I am fire. 

But who I am is not somebody who can afford to love.

Suddenly the gently swaying movement of this crate stops, causing me to slam into the wall in front of me. It hurts, but I don't cry out. I refuse to cry out. 

I wait, braced for whatever is to come next. My nerves are on edge, singing with tension. Because I am a prisoner, and I can't forget the pain that accompanies that. 

I don't know how long I stay, poised for action, but nothing happens. It's almost worse, the anticipation of pain. Because I cannot relax, I cannot retreat. Physical pain can be handled. How do you handle the absence of pain? The fear of what is to come.

That's when it opens, and the light hits my eyes. I don't scream, but I want to. I can't see, daggers of light piercing my eyes after so much time spent in darkness. I can hear a low chuckle, a taunting sound. Still blind, I lunge towards the sound, closing my teeth around something soft and forgiving. 

My efforts are rewarded by an angry shout of pain, and a long string of curses. I feel a wicked smile curl across my lips, and it doesn't fade when the blow throws me backwards. It doesn't fade when my sight comes back and I see the room of weapons and blood where I lie chained. It doesn't fade when Cairn's gruesome work begins. 

Because this is one kind of war that I know how to win. 

Hey all!

Sorry it's been so long, but I'm back!

I hope you like this story, it's something I've been playing with for a while, so I figured I'd write it. Before the comments get started, just let me state that there will be chapters from Rowan's POV, in fact it will probably alternate (very much like my last story did).

Don't forget to vote and comment below!