Land of Kingsflame

A Nightmare

Fenrys knew he was dreaming. He knew he wasn't really sitting on this sunny veranda in Doranelle. The veranda where Aelin had given Rowan the blood oath, where Connall had died because of him. He could hear Aelin's scream as she had been pressed into the shards of glass, could smell Connall's blood as it spread from his chest.

He sat alone, in wolf form, in the very same place where he had watched it all go down, the worst day of his life.

Fenrys wondered where this dream would take him. It was different. Normally he watched Connall die, heard Aelin's scream over and over again. But here he was alone. It was deserted; there were no sounds from the palace or the city in his dream, except the sound of waterfalls. 

He rose, something pulling him towards the cool, dark halls. He padded through, following something, he didn't know what. He knew there was something important to find, it was insistent on his brain. It pushed him down familiar hallways and staircases, until he at last arrived at a door made of iron, so at odds with the pale stone of the palace.

The dungeons.

Where Maeve had kept Aelin those two months. He pushed back at the dream. He couldn't, he wouldn't go down there. The light seemed to dim as he got closer and closer, as he fought his dream with all that he had, begging not to go down to the dungeon. And yet at the same time something begged him to go, some presence was pleading with him to go into that dark, rage-filled space. And then, as if it sensed his desperation, it stopped, relenting.

Fenrys woke up the next morning feeling strange. His suite in the palace was open and breezy, so the sun shone in through the wide glass doors to his balcony, which looked over Orynth. He chose this suite for that very reason, so when he awoke from his nightmares he was not bound, he could get up and walk to the balcony. Even being in a bedroom after those nightmares could be difficult. But he had not had a nightmare, which was why he felt strange. He remembered his dream, of the palace in Doranelle, of something begging him to descend to the place where they had kept Aelin. 

But he had slept. Somehow, that dream had kept him from waking a single time.

Fenrys hauled his feet over the side of the bed and ran a hand over his face and through his hair. Another day of rebuilding, but one he looked forward to and relished. To serve Terrasen and it's court was what got him out of bed, even on the days when all he could hear was the sounds of Connall dying and Aelin's scream as Cairn did his work on her. 

wThe spring breeze from the Staghorns drifted through his room from the half open balcony door, reminding him to get up.

Fenrys stood up and walked to the washbasin reminding himself, as he did every day, that he was free.

helloooo I'm just starting this pls let me know your thoughts and criticisms!!

chapter image credit to: @morganaOanagromon on twitter