Aelin's wounds were screaming against the iron, her split skin leaking blood. The coppery tang of it attacked her nose, and she felt as if she was moving, somehow.
Something was dragging her towards it. The coffin jolted and spun, and Aelin's head smacked against the iron lid. She didn't get knocked unconscious, but her vision was swimming.
The coffin landed with a thump, and muffled footsteps prowled carefully towards the iron box.
Very faint dialogue was heard, and oblivion threatened to steal her from the light of day, and she gave in to the welcoming darkness.
Rhysand was very rarely startled or shocked, but when a small, yet heavy, coffin appears on the floor in front of you, what other emotions are you supposed to feel?
Azriel, Mor, Amren and Cassian looked at each other and Rhys studied the coffin. It was made out of iron, with little whorls and suns engraved. It was lathered in the scent of fear and the coppery tang of blood.
There were three scents on it, too. The most powerful one was sadistic and cruel, promising pain and a slow, agonizing death.
A very weak, unstable heartbeat sounded inside of the coffin, and Rhys decided to open it.
Rhysand opened the coffin with his magic, and the inner circle's gasps rang out as they beheld what --- or who --- lay in the coffin. It was a girl --- barely even a woman --- covered head to toe in iron.
Iron chains wrapped around her ankles and wrists. Her hands were bare, but looked as if they were burnt over flame. Bright red welts draped her skin, and she had a beautiful iron mask covering her face.
Her ears, however, were rounded. She was a human, then. Cassian realized this, and made a sound between shock and confusion. "How- how did she get over the wall?"
Nobody answered him.
The human girl was dressed in a red, thigh length shift. No, not red, Rhys realized, a white shift, coated in her blood.
"Why iron?" Azriel inquired. "She's human, and doesn't look like a threat. If they needed to chain her, why not use ashwood?"
"Before we figure that out, shouldn't we be getting a heal-" Mor was cut off, because the girl was gaining consciousness.
The girl grit her teeth, as if she was in pain and was trying not to cry out. Her heartbeat was picking up speed, and her breathing got quicker.
She was trying to get a full breath down, but she couldn't. Only shallow, rasping pants. She was breathlessly whispering the same three words over and over again. Cairn you bastard. After repeating it twice, she cried out, and ended up waking herself up.
~
It was a terrible reality she lived in. Or was it all just a dream? She was, once again, forced to kneel at Maeve's feet, Cairn whipping her with all the strength and hatred he's kept locked up in that cold, sadistic heart in his chest. Or perhaps he doesn't have a heart, Aelin wondered, Perhaps he survived on the misery of others.
"Cairn you bastard, " she muttered under her breath. Cairn struck her again, and she cried out.
Light infiltrated her vision. More light that she had ever seen in a few months
There was only one word, one name, that was instantly on her tongue, but, she found that she was no longer in Maeve's clutches. Instead, she was in a large room, being gawked at by a man, no, a male, she realized. The male had long, pointed ears poking out through his blue-black hair. His violet eyes assessed her.
There were two other males and two females. One of the females reminded Aelin strongly of Manon. Oh, how she hoped the Wrydkeys were safe.
"Calm down, we aren't going to hurt you," Mor spoke softly.
The bloodied girl's eyes flicked across the room, searching for possible threats. She looked completely distraught, but quickly composed herself. She cleared her throat and tried to hide the wince. She mustered up a fraction of strength to speak again.
"What is your name?" Her voice was scratchy, rough, and quiet, but it wasn't weak at all.
"I'm Morrigan, you can call me Mor. How about you?" Mor was still speaking quietly. The girl's eyes narrowed as she most likely decided whether she should say or not. "Celaena. Celaena Sardothien. Now are you going to help me out here or what?" She lifted a brow.
~ Time Skip Brought To You By Aelin's Love For Chocolate ~
"What do you think of Celaena?" Mor heard Feyre ask Rhys and Cass in the room next door. Celaena could hear it. Her weak, human ears simply couldn't. She was laying on her back on the bed, resting her chin on her palm. Mor was cleaning Celaena's wounds with tonics and salves so the open cuts do not get infected. It nearly made her sick, all the blood.
Her formerly white shirt was completely soaked with the red liquid, and she occasionally winced at the sting of the tonic on her wounds.
It was mostly her back that was wounded. Only new ones, which is what confused her the most. New burns. New whip marks. New slices. It sickened her. Who could do this to a young girl like her? Who could do this to anybody?
Under all the blood, apart from all the slices, her skin was unmarked. Unscarred. Flawless. As stainless as fresh snow. Mor had cleaned off all the blood. "Celaena?"
She didn't reply.
"Celaena?" She tried again.
Still no reply.
It had turned out she was asleep. Mor grabbed a woolly, warm quilt and lay it over her bandaged back, shut the curtains and looked over Celaena once more before exiting the room.
~
The sun was going down in the night court, the previously blue sky now a beautiful array of warm colours. Red. Orange. Yellow. Pink.
"How's the girl, Celaena?" Cassian asked as he nibbled on a hangnail.
"She's sleeping alright. Tossing and turning a bit but she's okay." Mor answered.
"That's good."
We sat in silence until the sky turned dark and stars twinkled like diamonds.
