The Fae King's Ruin

For Unseelie Soldiers

Aislin knew the exact moment that they had succeeded in driving out the rebellion from their lands. She was not on the battlefield personally, no, but rather saw it on her cousin’s face when he entered their tent three hours past noon.

She had been dutifully attending to her correspondences when Aelthrys finally burst into the tent. Aislin stood at the blood and gore that covered him from head to foot, instantly thinking that something was wrong and that he had been incredibly hurt. But she had paused at the sight of the grin on his face, his usually white teeth also pink with blood. Her stomach lurched at the sight as her nose was simultaneously assaulted by the stench of iron, but still, she made herself speak.

“Dear Ilyn, what has happened to you?” Aislin briefly closed her eyes to control her rioting senses. “Why are you—?”

“It is done, cousin,” he breathed, cutting her off. “The rebels are gone. They surrendered the moment they realized they were surrounded.”

Her knees buckled. It was a good thing that she was able to catch her weight on her desk because her legs suddenly felt like jello once she heard Aelthrys’ words.

“We won?” she whispered asking, even if she could hear the shouts of joy from the returning soldiers in the distance.

He nodded. “I saw an opening and took the lead. The rest of it engaged our entire legion soon after.” Aelthrys chucked his chin towards the tent flap. “Don’t you want to greet your soldiers with a job well done?”

She swallowed. “I don’t think I can even walk on my own.”

“I would help you up but…” he gestured down to himself. “I am kind of filthy at the moment.”

Aislin shook her head in astonishment. The rebels were gone and the people were safe once again. Aelthrys had actually managed to be right and prove them all wrong. She was clueless as to how he had done it— even if from the looks of it, he had to have done something completely mental for their side to have won— but it wouldn’t do for her to go questioning it now. The important thing was that their side had won. No other people would have to get hurt or their homes be destroyed.

She dashed the moisture from her eyes with a handkerchief, avoiding the ink stains on her hands. Aelthrys was right yet again; she was their highest commanding officer now. They deserved the highest honor she could give them.

Slowly, she breathed, settling her nerves and stoking the elation that was thrumming through her veins. She let her happiness show unbridled and walked past Aelthrys, giving him and his bloody mess a wide berth, before lifting the tent flap.

Standing on top of the hill that overlooked the valley below, what she saw astounded her. Hundreds of men, in all shapes and wear, were marching through the muddy fields. Most carried their weapons, some carried comrades that were unable to walk on their own. Others manned carts pulled by horses where healers mended the badly injured and prevented them from dying. They all look like they have been through hell and back. Aislin could clearly see their weary faces and the dirt that was smeared all over them, but it was in their eyes that she saw the victory. They might have been fatigued, yet their eyes bore the fire that could only be found through conquering battle.

Softly but all at once, she heard a song— a melody that joined the squelching of boots and the clinking metal of their armor. A memory resurfaced from the annals of her mind, brought on by that sweet, melancholic sound, taking her back to a time spent under a spring moon.

O’er the mount of Silkesh,

and through its feisty moors,

We Unseelie folk dance

and weather through the storms

Land of milk and honey,

elusive as can be;

for we Unseelie folk leave,

never to be seen.

Kiss twice for the daughters,

spare five for fallen wives.

For we Unseelie soldiers,

only promise our demise.

Aislin closed her eyes and let the soldiers’ voices enter her soul. It was a song she had heard many times, usually when soldiers came home from wars and campaigns as they go back to their families. Her aunt and uncle, along with the staff, would usually sing the song back to the soldiers once the troops eventually passed by the manor.

Now, they sang the song with hope, and it resonated with the wind as it blew past them and further inland. She looked down at her white dress and saw the red hem of it. Bending down, she tore it off and fashioned herself a wide ribbon, tied it around her hand once, before raising it in the air. It instantly caught the wind, flapping in mid-air, and pointing north like an arrow.

An expression of joy and of pride, and a guide to lead them home.

***

Later that night, after hosting dinner for Aelthrys’ colleagues and celebrating the liberation of the southern provinces, Aislin went up to her room to rest for the night. Outside the manor, mixed in with the displaced, the soldiers had made camp. Even from her window that was already three storeys high and an entire wing away from the festivities, she could still hear the merriment and the music, only made louder when she ordered Jilt to contribute ten of their wine barrels. She smiled. They deserved a night of fun after how valiantly they fought for the lives of others.

“Would you like me to close the windows for tonight, milady?” one of the maids asked her.

She turned to look at her brown eyes. They were deeper than Periwinkle’s and had forest green hair instead of dusky blue, but they nonetheless made her miss her maids in Alfheim.

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “I do not expect much sleep tonight, anyway. I’ll be leaving for the Capital at first light.”

“Really?” Aelthrys’ familiar voice drawled.

He stood at her doorway, dressed down, and seemed to have taken his second shower for the night. His short hair was still dripping to his shoulders as he made his way over. Gone was the smell of the blood and muck on him that could make her toss up the contents of her stomach.

Aelthrys nodded as the maids in her room curtsied before leaving, closing her bedroom door on their way out. Sharp eyes slanted at her curiously.

“You hate the Capital,” he stated, even if she could hear a question somewhere within that sentence.

“I have work to do,” she said, shrugging. “The king will be arriving tomorrow and I want to make sure things are perfect.”

A small, half-smile tilted a corner of his lips up. “Aislin, I’m sure King Avery missed you so much that he would not mind the threadcount of the sheets or the colors of the curtains adorning the rooms. You could be dressed in rags and that male would still look at you like you are the next best thing since ketchup was invented.”

“But you hate ketchup,” she remarked, wrinkling her nose.

“Not the point.”

“Perhaps your remark on ketchup made the whole point seem unimportant.”

He levelled her an unamused look. “Aislin.”

She grinned. “I get what you mean, though,” she said to him after a while. “I know Avery would never look at me differently, but have you not considered that perhaps he might have bad memories in that castle? I only want to make him comfortable in his stay.”

The bed dipped as Aelthrys sat on the edge, sighing heavily before he sprawled across it, his legs and feet dangling to the sides. “You can order to scrub every wall, ceiling, and floor of that stone castle, have all the furniture and drapes completely changed, but you will never be able to erase whatever bad memories you think he has of the place.” He raised a brow at her. “Don’t you and I have the same bad memories within it? Do we complain? What can we truly do other than replace the bad memories with new, good ones?”

Aislin frowned as he stood up agilely and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t leave without me tomorrow, do you hear?”

“But I thought you might want to get some rest or something.” Her frown deepened. “You have just been in a battle.”

“Was I injured? Maimed?” He scoffed, turning to leave. “I can work tomorrow just as well as any other day. Good night, cousin. See you in the morning.”

Shaking her head, she bid him ‘good night’ as well. She took off her robe and climbed under the sheets, listening deeply for the hum of the party, before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep without a problem.