Throne of Glass One Shots

Fight

What did she care anyways? It's not like any of them did. If they wanted her safe and loved they would show that but they don't. There are no limits, nothing. They supported everything she did but why don't they get it. Why can't they just understand anything she does. She just wanted them to fight for her and if they were going to, they would have. She would make them. She would just keep pushing and pushing until they did. She just wanted them to fight for her, so why can't they just do that, why is it that she has to be doing this instead?

--

Evangeline strolled into the tattoo parlor and hoped on the comfy bed that she would be made to lay on for the next while. She waited for Thom to come in and ask her what she wanted, which would be when she would hand him the paper that had a black, decorative picture on it that he would then tattoo on her body.

She would lay on her stomach, not quite flinching from the pain but every second her mind was following the sting, tracing it to the picture in her head. A duplicate of the one Thom was looking at. The only difference was hers was drawn in her mind, his was drawn by her hand on a piece of parchment.

She felt the cold touch of the ointment as he wiped it over the raw skin with calloused hands. He placed a pieced of plastic over it as well, smoothing it over sparking the nerves. She unwillingly flinched away but he must have been done because she didn't feel those callouses again.

Bracing her arms on the bed, she pushed herself into a sitting position, turning her head to see her reflection in the mirror behind her. There, at the bottom of her near bare back was the intricate design.

She nodded at Thom, happy with the design. "Thanks, I'll send a servant with your gold when I return to the palace." She was well enough known in Ornyth for everyone to know how often she lived at the palace. Even during the majority of the time when she was in Carraverre, everyone knew if they were owed money she charged everything to the palace.

Thom didn't say anything as she pulled her T-shirt over her head and braced her feet on the floor. Though she could have sworn she heard him snickering as she hobbled away, the pain like electroshock magnets attached to bare nerves.

It's safe to say she took a carriage to the palace and had one of her maids escort her to her rooms.

She had to wait a few weeks for the tattoo to heal properly so she show it off to her family but when she did, it wasn't what she expected, but what she wanted. When she walzed out of her room wearing low waist shorts and a white T-shirt that cut off just below her breasts she was expecting... anger.

That's exactly what she wanted. She wanted anger and that's what she always got but the thing is that there is different types of anger. She knew the anger of the wrath of an assassin and ghost leopard. This is where there is yelling, screaming and a lot of eye rolling. Fire- breathing- bitch- queen's have that sort of anger that explodes without a chance for you to explain yourself. Not that she minded. Everything she wanted to say was in her actions, if only they chose to hear them right.

Which is precisely why todays was such a change.

All she did was walz into the kitchen and take Lysandra's cup of tea out of her hand and take a sip. That's all it ever took with these people.

That's almost all it took today.

"What's that?"

She sipped the coffee.

Lysandra turned around to face Rowan, who was standing at the counter behind her. "She has a tattoo."

His brows furrowed. "The babe doesn't have a tattoo."

She lowered her coffee enough to speak. "I believe it's called a tramp stamp."

Rowan shook his fist victoriously, leaving the room. "See, she doesn't have a tattoo. She has a tramp stamp." The door nearly clicked shut but Aelin was coming in.

"What's up, buttercups?" She asked, taking the mug from the girls hand.

Aelin's eyes fell down to her tattoo.

Fire immediately flamed in her eyes.

"I know your furious." Lysandra began. "I am too. The angriest I've been with this girl in a long, long time."

"Then what's the problem. She got a tattoo, Lys. A tramp stamp to boot. Sometimes I think you only do this just to get our attention."

She got it.

Right on the mark.

She just wished they might stick on this point.

Lysandra snapped her eyes at the queen, a feline gesture. "That's what I want to talk about. She knows about tattoos. She wouldn't just get one."

All eyes fell to her forearm, to where the tattoo was seared off her arm. Madam Clarisse's mark.

"Why are you doing this?"

Why are they doing this?

Who bribed them?

What's even happening?

"Evangeline, I can't believe you keep acting out like this and you won't even tell us why."

Aelin nodded in agreement with what Lys was saying, raising the mug in a sort of cheers. "E, you are being ridiculous. If you're not going to cooperate then you're not doing anything. Smarten up."

Why are her eyes wet?

Why is she screaming?

"I WANTED YOU TO FIGHT FOR ME AND YOU DIDN'T!"

Why was she crying?

Both sets of eyes snapped up to her. "YOU DIDN'T FIGHT FOR ME, YOU DIDN'T EVEN TRY!"

Aelin gazed, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"YOU DON'T CARE! IF YOU CARED ABOUT ANYTHING I DID YOU WOULD FIGHT FOR ME. NOT LEAVE ME TO DO DUMB SHIT TRYING TO GET YOU TO CARE!" She was sobbing now. "I just wanted to be fought for. I just wanted to matter."

Aelin put her coffee down and hugged her in a rush. Coffee splashed high on the sides but stayed in the mug. Watching this cup was a better alternative to right now. Right now was something in a distant thought. Not even something she dared to dream about.

"We care, honey."

Lysandra pulled them both in a hug. "Holy gods, baby girl, I care. We care. We should have fought for you, baby. We should have. I'm so sorry."

Why is this happening so easily?

Why is this not the most complex thing she's ever experienced.

They're just gonna hug it out, and love each other?

"We're fighting for you now, we're going to fight for you." Aelin stroked her hair.

Lysandra smiled, she felt it against her. "We're fixing that tattoo."

She laughed through the tears. "Alright, yeah. I want that thing off me."

They're going to fight for her.

They're fighting for her.

They're going to fight.

---

Words: 1144

There is always someone to fight for you.

There is always someone to fight for.

Don't waste time waiting for the outburst.

There is always someone to fight.

Fight for them.

Fight for yourself.

Just fight.

Remember that.

Much love,

Z