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Queen Maeve of the Fae. Maeve knew everything—as was expected when you were older than dirt.
DEAD. Older than DIRT.
💀
She’d deserved that particular blow in the brawl she’d provoked in last night’s taberna—she’d kicked a man’s balls into his throat, and when he’d caught his breath, he’d been enraged, to say the least.
Bloody hell celaena 💀
Sorscha,”
😩
“Hello, Aelin Galathynius.”
aghhhhhh
Such a rare gift—the ability to summon and manipulate flame.
Ooooo let’s see what she can do with it
“I wish you to become who you were born to be. To become queen.”
Oh She will.
Become queen.
🙌
“I’ve seen plenty of this big and dangerous world, princeling.” A soft, harsh laugh. “Just wait, Aelin.” Another jab. And she let herself fall for it. “Don’t call me that.” “It’s your name. I’m not going to call you anything different.”
Oooop. Here we go
But Manon didn’t take her hand off her blade, Wind-Cleaver,
Manon gritted her teeth. The blur of stone, the kiss of mist, her hair ripping out of her braid, waving like a white banner above her.
Training was horrible that day. Not just because Rowan asked if she was going to vomit or piss herself again, but also because for hours—hours—he made her sit amongst the temple ruins on the ridge, battered by the misty wind.
Piss herself AGAIN. I am still mortified for her
As his rider. As his mistress. As his.
I love this bond
He made her want to laugh and sing and shake the world with her voice.
🥺
“I see her slipping away, bit by bit, because you shove her down when she so desperately needs someone to help her back up.”
“She has no hope, Prince. She has no hope left in her heart. Help her. If not for her sake, then at least for what she represents—what she could offer all of us, you included.”
She is so broken.. she needed him 🥺
“You are the keeper of your own fate,” Rowan said softly from the shore, as if he knew exactly what was flowing through her head.
Are they mates tho
“Please tell me you brought food,” Luca said again. “Is that why you came? Rowan promised you snacks?” “I’m a growing boy.” He winced when he looked at Rowan.
Hahahahah this poor child. Give him food!
You think any of us like to hear you two cursing and screaming every afternoon? The language you use is enough to curdle all the milk in Wendlyn.”
“Hurry up, Princess. I want to go to bed at some point before dawn.”
she burned and burned and burned.
she BURNED 🔥
“I claim you, Rowan Whitethorn. I don’t care what you say and how much you protest. I claim you as my friend.”
Dorian lifted his chin. “I have a friend. He is to be Lord of Anielle someday, and the fiercest warrior in the land.”
heir of fire.
She IS the heir of Mala! And Brennon!
Rowan reached her, panting and bloody. She did not dishonor him by asking him to flee as he extended his bleeding palm, offering his raw power to harness now that she was well and truly emptied. She knew it
would work. She had suspected it for some time now. They were carranam.
THEY ARE CARRANAM! Is that practically mated?!
“To whatever end?”
To whatever end😭 i love it as much as i hate it. What end?!
he whispered into her ear, “I claim you, too, Aelin Galathynius.”
HE CLAIMS HER 😭😩
Aelin was a warrior, able to fight with blade or magic. And she was done with hiding.
Slaaayyyyy rise up QUEEN
White Fangs and the Ruhnns, all the way to the Western Wastes and the red-haired queen who ruled from a crumbling castle. To the Deserted Peninsula and the oasis-fortress of the Silent Assassins. Hooves, hooves, hooves, echoing through the continent, sparking against cobblestones, all the way to Banjali and the riverfront palace of the King and Queen of Eyllwe,
She was the heir of ash and fire, and she would bow to no one.
Omggggggggggg. Fuck MEAVE
violet, starry eyes
OMG. Rhys????
Maeve’s eyes danced with amusement. “Sacred only because of the bearer who established your kingdom. But before that, it was nothing. Brannon was born with the bastard’s mark—the mark every unclaimed, unwanted child possessed, marking them as nameless, nobody. Each of Brannon’s heirs, despite their noble lineage, has since been graced with it—the nameless mark.”
The NAMELESS MARK
“He could have an army of the dead, inhabited by the Valg.” “An army that does not need to eat or sleep or breathe—an army that will sweep like a plague across your continent, and others. Maybe other worlds, too.”
Omg what if, why does this remind me of the dead Nesta raised in SF
And then Celaena set the world on fire.
BURN IT ALLLLL.
Aelin. Beloved. Immortal. Blessed. Aelin. Aelin of the Wildfire. Aelin Fireheart. Aelin Light-Bringer. Aelin.
The light bringer in the darkness. Cleanse it
Trust me. I don’t want you enslaved to me. I won’t be that kind of queen. You have no court—you are defenseless, landless, and without allies. She might let you walk out of here today, but she could come after you tomorrow. She knows how powerful I am—how powerful we are together. It will make her hesitate. Please don’t do this—I will give you anything else you ask, but not this. I claim you, Aelin. To whatever end.
“Together, Fireheart,” he said, pushing back the sleeve of her tunic. “We’ll find a way together.” He looked up from her exposed wrist. “A court that will change the world,” he promised.
“I do. Until my last breath, and the world beyond. To whatever end.”
Agh i love this, but makes me NERVOUSS. Why say that, UNTIL MY LAST BREATH. No who dies?!
Only enough time to see Dorian’s eyes widen, and the whole room plunge into ice.
ICY BOY
He looked at his friend, perhaps for the last time, and said what he had always known, from the moment they’d met, when he’d understood that the prince was his brother in soul. “I love you.”
Brother. Friend. King.
🥺
Chaol had called him his king.
He is the KING
She lifted her face to the stars. She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, heir of two mighty bloodlines, protector of a once-glorious people, and Queen of Terrasen. She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius—and she would not be afraid.
Heck yes. Lets do this. FINALLY. She is claiming it.
