Nox Owen arrived at the camp late in the evening, fingers numb from holding a letter with no warm pocket to put it in.
He was the messenger, sent by Lord Darrow to deliver it to Aedion Ashryver of Terrasen. He was a little scared, to be honest.
It had been nearly two years since he had run away from the competition in Rifthold, and from the love of his life, Celaena Sardothien.
It had been nearly two years of finding work and a safe home every night, nearly two years of healing and mending.
Of course, there were days when he missed her, when he let out a silent scream and tried to will the pain in his aching heart away, but those days were more scarce now.
He had left that persona behind. He was no longer Sam Cortland, the boy madly in love with an assassin under the influence of a puppet master. It felt amazing to let that part of him go.
Nox stared at the lights in the near future, the glow of the heat and fire making the cold and heartless scene a little more friendly.
He wandered up to the tents that were strategically placed and set up, prioritising space and time.
There was shouting in one of the main tents.
That must be where the party is, Nox thought to himself and snorted, biding his time as he walked there, gently pulling aside the piece of fabric to reveal a whole gathering of faces, none of which looked particularly familiar.
Everyone stilled when the attention was on Nox, and he felt himself swallow bulkily. His eyes found another's that looked so, so familiar; turquoise with a ring of gold.
"Aedion Ashryver." He inclined his head. "Nox Owen, a messenger from Perranth."
Aedion frowned and snatched the letter out of Nox's cold hands. "Nox Owen. Your name sounds familiar. Weren't you that thief?"
Nox smiled lightly. "Former thief. I am now Lord Darrow's most trusted messenger."
Aedion regarded him in a very condescending way, and Nox tried his hardest to not scowl.
"Thank you. You may go."
****
Aelin Galathynius was the one to approach him in the dead of the night.
Nox sat by the fire on a damp log in the shadows, hiding from company and trying to keep warm.
She sat beside him wordlessly, watching the fire flicker in and out of life.
Eventually, she spoke.
"Do . . . Do you know?"
Nox turned his head and smiled. "That you aren't Aelin Galathynius? That Aelin Galathynius is currently in an iron coffin in the hands of Maeve? Yes, I know."
"But . . . How?"
Nox smiled sadly at the campfire, keeping his hood and mask up. "I once went by a different name. You may remember me . . . Lysandra?"
Lysandra's eyes widened as she was brought to the light. "S-Sam . . . Sam Cortland?"
Nox - Sam, pried the hood and mask from his face and nodded, light dancing warmly in his irises. He turned his body to Lysandra and held onto her hand.
"Celaena - Aelin, and I, we found each other at the competition. Then, she told me to run. There was dark magic plaguing the castle, and, of course, she was right. So, I ran. I kept the identity of Nox Owen. I travelled all across Erilea. After months, Lord Darrow decided to keep me under his wing. He told me about . . . Everything. About Celaena. About Aelin. He basically filled me in on twenty years worth of history. And now," he huffed, his breath forming into mist and suspended in the air, "I am here."
Lysandra smiled with the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "I'm glad you are here. I am glad you got out. And you will see Aelin again, okay? But . . ."
Nox smiled sadly and nodded. "I know about Rowan," he whispered. "It's okay. Things have changed between us."
He turned his head and looked towards the horizon where the moonlight illuminated the pine trees in a warm silver glow.
"I just want to see my friend again."
~after everything~
~the end~
YOU ARE READING
After Everything
Fantasy"it was like a dance. a dance of silver and blades and speed. they danced around one another, moving in time, as if it had been rehearsed a hundred times before. they fought like old lovers, as if they knew the others next moves like it was written...
