(Throne of Glass Fanfiction) The Legends that Lives

Chapter 15: Yulemas Ball Pt.2 :(

The crowd was bustling with chuckles and awing words for the prince of the people, the prince who drank at every single famous bar, talking to the citizens as though they were typical drinking mates. The prince who now stood before them all, broken but not shattered, a prince who was still ruling.

Then another prince stepped forward, a prince of the night, his ruffled black blouse layered with a near-black blue jacket, wrist-length black silk gloves tucked into his dark pants, that was tucked in his dark boots, his wavy dark hair falling delicately-artistically on his forehead and over his eyes. Those violet eyes sparkled.

"I don't think the ladies will swoon over you much longer with me here," purred the dark yet young High Lord, the court ladies did indeed run an appreciative look over his form.

"Oh?" Eyvin crooned in return, stepping forward confidently, rolling his shoulders, his neck arching earning a gasp from the swooning young ladies of the court ", A challenge."

"Only if you wished it so, prince," said Maven primly, his violet eyes suggested otherwise, the stars in them shining brighter than any constellation.

And so it started.

In smooth and elegant lines the prince of Adarlan's quick feet had spun himself in lightning circles across the ballroom, white hair and sapphire eyes flashing, all the way to the young High Lord's front, hand outstretched, his eyes welcoming.

Without hesitation, Maven took Eyvin's alabaster hand, the prince pulling him close as Maven spun on his feet, his back bumping Eyvin's chest before they sprang apart, hands still clasped, arms raised high as they danced their way to the center of the ballroom, people sprung apart in a wide arc until they were surrounded by crowds of colorful eyes.

The two princes, so different yet similar, released their hold on one another as they twirled to opposite sides, their movements matched one for one as their elegant strides, a symphony, carried them towards on another.

Maven was once more in Eyvin's arms as he was spun around and around, the prince of Adarlan using his hand to balance and steady him only to grab him by his waist and throw him into the air, Eyvin must have expected Maven to flexibly roll back down, Maven, however, had other plans as the sound of tearing fabric ensued.

And he flapped his Illyrian wings.

He dived down, flew around the prince Adarlan once, drawing gasps from everyone but the royal families as he picked Eyvin by his waist and threw him into the air, swooping to catch as he started to descend.

"My turn," Maven whispered in the prince's ear as they continued their dangerous and beautiful and intoxicating dance on the ground and in the air.

Eyvin only smiled lazily, his eyes lighting up, no sign of the shadows that haunted his every step and waking moment ", Bring it, Mavey."

And back on the ballroom floor, a certain golden-haired princess, half her face obscured by a handcrafted paper fan, slipped out discreetly.

-

Aryna knew exactly where they kept the witch mirror.

Well, it wasn't that they were stupid, she'll admit that obtaining that information had cost her great time and patience (not that she didn't lack any of that), and they shouldn't have trusted someone with Aelin's cunning and Rowan's skill with that knowledge in the first place.

Her steps were brisk and silent as she made her way to her destination, past hallways of shining marble and crystal chandeliers, further and further away from the chatter of the Yulemas Ball, past scurrying servants and posted guards. Until she reached the left-wing of the palace in which the king and queen dwelled, along with the close friends and families that chose to visit.

Including the Galathyniuses.

The guards allowed her in without a word, not daring to even ask why the cold and silent princess was back so early when the ball was simply getting started. She has no use even being there if she didn't need to do this.

Arvena wasn't there, crowded spacing, and it was all dance-drink dance-drink.

Alas, Aryna had reached the king's and queen's bedroom, there were no guards here to keep the privacy of the king's and queen's personal guests, so Aryna didn't have to worry about being hidden as she slid a sliver of magic into the keyhole, feeling the locks and clasps and hollow shape, then freezing the perfect shaped key of ice.

She turned it, not even lifting a finger. The door clicked open and she slipped in silently, not a sound made. She always thought that she was simply silent, like a whisper of wind, rather than cold and all sharp edges like her father.

The king's and queen's bedroom was lavishly furnished yet not going overboard that it is was a pain to look at. The floor was wood-paneled, an oak nightstand lay on side of the circular canopy bed, a simple table on the other; a writing table from the same wood, covered in scrolls and quills and books, lay not far from the doorway, propped against the wall with a neatly tucked in matching chair.  There were two doors from opposing sides that most likely led to the bathroom and closet.

Without a thought, Aryna walked in, careful not to make her heels clicked against the floor as she closed the door behind her. A sweep around the room told her enough of the lack of presence. Nearing the bed, she swiped the falling silk from the ceiling to the side with an arc of her arm.

She tilted her head up, eyes narrowing as she scanned for the sign that this wasn't all a ruse. It was hard to see with the silk blinding her, especially when it was coming from the source. She scolded herself when she realized she could've just used her magic to part all of it. And...

There.

Just a small mirror, not the witch mirror itself but a transportation one, just to carry you from one place to another. She felt extremely guilt as she took off her heels, the torture instruments clanking to the floor, making her wince, and stepped onto the soft mattress. Reaching on her toes, the mattress swallowing her feet, her fingers grazed the mirror's surface.

A cold air whipped at her, not the type she wielded. Though not a single strand of golden hair or a single shaft of pale green fabric was disturbed as she opened her pine-green eyes to dark but slightly illuminated room a circular light in the center. 

She frowned then closed her eyes once more, breathing in and then out.

When she opened her eyes, the witch mirror laid right on the dark stone ground, illusion mist drifting around it, it had fooled her for a second, but she'd trained. And she'd trained well, even if the substance was only discovered recently in the past years.

But what shocked her wasn't how simple it was to get to the mirror's location, if you know the steps of course but of the other person standing in the dark room with her.

Curling brown hair, streaked with gold shifted as the woman lifted her surprised brown eyes to Aryna's. Arvena was here, and not at the ball, or the healer's tower, though she was still in the healer's robes.

"Aryna?" the healer breathed.

Aryna only shook her frantically, a deep sort of panic setting into her, one she had never once felt before. Arvena stepped closer as the princess backed away in her gown. It will take but one moment. Just one moment.

For Aryna to blast Arvena far from that mirror and did what she came to do.

So that's what she did.

"This is my sacrifice to take," was all she whispered as she jumped for the mirror's surface, fingers touching the cool glass, as she felt cold wind once more whipped around her.

And she was transported away.

-

rAnDoM qUeStiOns sO yOu wOn't kIlL mE fOr tHe cLifFhAngEr

Who's the top?

Eyvin or Maven?

Dorian or Manon?

Sierra or Rayne? 

P.S is it just but is the description of Rhysand and Dorian achingly similar (other the eyes ofc.)