ACOTAR and ToG Crossover

6| Tattoos

     As Rowan shifted back into his Fae form, the High Lord approached him. "We have faced Hybern before, if that is what you're wondering," Rhysand informed him. "We defeated him once, and we can defeat him again."

     "Can you tell me what you know about him? And why he would attack us?" Rowan asked calmly, his voice regal. 

     "Well, he was a dramatic, old asshole. Very ugly, if I might add," Rhysand started, before his High Lady smacked his head. Her blue-grey eyes held an apology as she invited the King to sit down on a leather sofa. Rowan took the opportunity to sit, and he was shocked at the quality of the couch. He rested a large, muscled arm around the back of the sofa, and he secretly missed his Queen that would tuck into his side, muttering something about how his warmth was needed. "Battle aspects, he was a man that only wanted numbers. He wasn't one for strategy. However, the soldiers he had were very brute-like, and killed a good number of our citizens. We killed him during the final battle, so I can only think that someone is using his name as a pseudonym." Rowan nodded, letting all of the information seep into his brain. He understood that the man actually being named 'Hybern' was low, but whoever was posing as the dead General had numbers, and brutes as soldiers. 

       "The Fae that this man had produced were strong, and used magic and fire. They only stopped when one of their own were killed. I believe that a farmer murdered one of the lesser Fae, and they all vanished into nothing." Suddenly, the young woman who was the High Lord's daughter appeared with a stack of books in hand. 

       "I found some books about what the vanishing act means," she greeted, setting the books down onto the wooden coffee table before taking a seat onto a large, plush chair. "From what I've read so far, it means that someone is multiplying themselves." Everyone waited for Ebony to elaborate, and she obliged them. "So, if that one person can multiply themselves, killing one of their own can hurt them slightly. A person's magic has to be completely focused in order for them to multiply to the extent that you are talking about, so if one of the clones die, that means that the person is no longer focused. And, while their copies can differ in skin tone, and eye and hair color, they usually all have one similar feature that links them to their person that's cloning themselves."

        "Did you find out anything else, Ebony?" Rhysand asked, his voice calm with a tint of pride laced in his tone. Ebony nodded her head, before grabbing the book on the top of the large stack, and flipping open the pages into the middle. 

         "They can only be so far away from their clones, and the person's power drains dramatically when they let the clones fight. So, you also can't capture a clone, because it will vanish if you try to torture it for answers. They're pretty mindless." Ebony paused, before showcasing the book to Rowan in particular. "These clones are soldiers at heart, and by the numbers you're talking, this Fae is extremely powerful. He also has to be a male, because the clones cannot switch gender. But, if you need to defeat this army.." 

          "Kill the origin.." Rowan finished, grabbing the book out of Ebony's hand. He saw this happen once before, as he was one of the people who killed an origin. Along with the cadre, of course. Rhysand looked to the King with raised eyebrows, and he merely stared at the drawing of his friends painted on these pages. They had destroyed one of the first origins in history, at Maeve's order. "I know how to kill the origin," he stated, "But I will need all of your help." The High family all nodded their heads. 

         "But, for now, we sleep and eat. We can return to Terrasen in the morning," the High Lady stated, leaving no room for argument. She smiled warmly when no one disagreed, and she wrapped an arm around her mate's waist.  "Besides, you have to try Night Court cuisine. It's quite divine." 

******

           As the King of Terrasen dined with the High family and the Commander of the Night Court, he couldn't help but notice all of their tattoos. We could see that the High Lady had taken a special interest in his tattoo that crossed his features gracefully, and she stared at the collection of swirls on his features. After 20 minutes of continual staring, Rowan coughed awkwardly. He felt very uncomfortable with someone looking at his tattoo for more than a minute, with the exception of Aelin. Feyre leaned back into her seat, but she made no move to stop staring. 

           "What deal did you make to earn yourself that tattoo?" the High Lady asked clearly. Rowan was startled by her boldness, but a question arose in his throat.

           "Deal?" he repeated, and Feyre nodded. "I gave myself this tattoo, I didn't make a deal." He paused, taking in the High Lady's excited features. Confusion graced the silver-haired male as he looked around the strangely-arranged table. "Is that how you get your tattoos?"

           "They're more for keeping your bargains," Rhys informed, his voice relaxed as he took a sip of his dark wine. "Feyre darling loves tattoos." Rowan laughed slightly at this, and Cassian shook his head. 

         "She's tried to make so many deals to get more tattoos, I think that it has become an obsession," the Commander shuddered. He grunted as his mate kicked his shin from under the table, and she sent him a message through her eyes: shut it. 

          "If you would like one.." Rowan started, taking another bite of his food.

         "Yes," Feyre blurted, causing Rhysand to spit out his wine and back into his cup. 

          "I can give you one when we return to Terrasen, and I have my supplies with me," Rowan informed, causing the High Lady to beam excitedly. 

          "So it's a deal?" she asked, standing up and extending her hand to the silver-haired King. Rowan cautiously shook her head, and Feyre smiled. "It's a deal," she repeated quietly, before sitting back down and diving into her food with a smile on her face. The King of Terrasen had no clue why the High Lady was excited, except for the fact that she would receive a new tattoo. 

 *****

         As Rowan sat on the large bed in his assigned room, he stared at the ceiling longingly. He craved his mate, his Fireheart to be at his side, curling up next to him. He even missed that dreaded dog that always took up his space on the bed, and the unwanted kisses he would receive in the morning that were from the damn dog. He missed Aelin, and he maybe missed Fleetfoot. He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair roughly, before pulling up the covers to his shoulders and tossing onto his right side, shutting his eyes tightly. He had convinced himself that he would sleep, and soon enough, his eyes didn't need to be held shut. His breathing evening out. Blue eyes with a golden rim filled his dream that night, along with one word: Fireheart.

******

         "I can't believe you are getting another tattoo, Feyre darling," Rhysand spoke from his position on the bed. Feyre crawled in on the other side, snuggling into her mate's side quietly. Her eyelids were drooping rapidly as she looked up to Rhysand lovingly. 

         "Hey, I need a souvenir from this adventure," she defended groggily, before leaning her head onto Rhysand's bare chest. The High Lord smiled down at his mate, and wrapped an arm around her. "Goodnight, prick," she mumbled, before breathing evened out completely, falling into a dreamless sleep.

          Rhysand kissed the top of her gently, before leaning back onto his pillows and closing his eyes. Soon, he let darkness consume him as he dreamt of his wife and daughter fondly.