World of Dreamers (TOG/ACOTAR crossover)

Chapter 19

The fires around the camp were kept alive by Aelin's powers. It helped relieve the pressure. She'd used little to nothing of her fire since the collar, and had no intention to use it unless she absolutely had to. She was saving it for Maeve. She wanted to be the one to burn her flesh away from her skin, to burn away the lies. She wanted to be the one to see the life leave her eyes. 

Maybe those thoughts were too dark, too repulsive, for a nineteen year old girl to be thinking, but she couldn't care less. Maeve had tortured her and trapped her in a collar. She was going to get her revenge. It was that simple. 

Aelin leaned into Rowan's warmth, watching as Dorian and Chaol entered the camp. Dorian had stayed back by the graves for over an hour. She'd told Rowan to fly over there and make sure he was still alive at one point, but Chaol had volunteered instead. The King's eyes were red-rimmed, as if he'd been crying.  Chaol looked as if he'd been crying as well. She wanted to know what was going on with them, but she wasn't going to pry. It was their business. So she nodded to them, and left them alone, turning back to the conversation. 

Fenrys and Connall were telling stories of their childhood, telling stories of their parents and of the city they grew up in, called Velaris. It sounded magical. Blissful. Beautiful. It sounded like everything she wanted Terrasen to be. Everything the world should be. Everything she was fighting for it to be. 

Sitting in the camp, with a hundred fires raging around her, reminded Aelin of Mistward. Of the time when she'd been told to keep three fires going through the night. Then, it had been a daunting task for her. She'd been terrified of killing someone, but now, she had a hundred fires going without a second thought. She could have had more going. Nearly eight months ago, she'd almost burned out trying to keep three fires alive, and now, she could do it in her sleep. 

It terrified her. 

Her fire, for as long as she could remember, had been something she feared. Her parents had tried their best, but she'd always known that they were afraid of it too. They didn't understand how to help her master them. Her earlier years were spent worrying about her fire. Her biggest fear was letting go of what little control she'd managed to gain, and burning everyone and everything she loved.

Sure, now she welcomed the flames and the heat, welcomed the power it gave her, but old fears could never really go away. Some part of her was always going to be afraid of the powers hidden beneath her skin. Only now, it was a different fear. She wasn't scared of burning what she loved anymore, she was scared of the power going to her head. Queen of Terrasen, Heir of Fire, Mala Blessed, Fire-Bringer...that's how she was seen to the world. A wickedly powerful Fae. Not Aelin. No one ever called her Aelin, outside of her small circle. It was always the Queen of Fire. She didn't want to be known for her magic or her powers. She didn't want to be known as the girl who set fire to the world. A part of her, deep down, worried that someday, her powers would go to her head and she would turn into a tyrant. 

Rowan placed his hand on her knee, meeting her eyes. He read the words she'd been thinking, and gave her a shake of his head. Trust me, Fireheart, if you should ever travel down that path, I would stop you.

Even if it meant killing me?  She let the question hang in the air. 

He hesitated. I would rather die than kill you, but...I'm just going to make sure you don't start down that path. 

Aelin nodded, taking that as an answer, and stood up, stretching her back. She looked around her, at all of the flickering fires in the camps. They lit up the night, like shining stars of hope. Each and every one of the people surrounding the fires, was willing to die to protect the world. They were willing to lay down their lives so that others might live. Many of them were still in their teen years and they were willing to do more for the world than Aelin ever was at their age.