When Aelin woke again the darkness felt different.

Blackness still encaged her, yet the shackles didn't burn her very soul - they stung like knives into her skin. Her eyes had long lost the ability to tell if they were open or shut, but even without her sight the cell seemed larger.

She was no longer in that iron box.

There was no clawing burn of the solid wall into her mutilated back - the wounds themselves seemed to be half healed. Her magic (which had been forcefully repressed and caged) was gone. She felt as weak and nauseated as she had the first few days of her return from Mistward.

And the bond - her bond with Rowan - she couldn't feel it. Her magic was more than blocked, it was numb and unfeeling. A fog made of icy mist seemed to crawl around her.

What had that bitch queen done?

A sharp clang of heavy metal invaded the ice that encroached her mind. A door creaked open.

A half dozen guards marched through, wearing the dark uniforms of Endovier. From the faint light she noticed as she was yanked up, Aelin recognised the hovel of a cell that was hers in Endovier. She laughed a hateful bitter noise that made all the guards tense and reach for their swords.

"What tricks has the Royal Highness now conjured?" She taunted. Her voice was raspy from disuse, the murder in her glare causing the guard behind her to shove into her wounds.

They said nothing.

And as she stepped into the shrouded hallways of Endovier, she spotted her old overseer standing with a black cloaked figure. Air seemed to be stolen from her lungs - and she couldn't take another in.

Chaol.

Maeve did not have the skill for this illusion. The details were too precise - the hooded black ensemble of the captain of the Adarlan Guard has every detail it needed, down to the eagle winged sword pommel. And his gaze - even shrouded by his hood - was cold and unfeeling. Wary. Distrustful. The tense set of his shoulders and grip on his blade told her that he did not know her yet.

Gods.

She felt herself get lost in the fog of her mind and barely noticed Chaol taking her shackled arm and leading her through the corridors of Endovier, up flights of stairs and back around as he had done all that time ago. The guards followed closely behind. She faintly noticed the suspicious turn of his head in her direction at her lack of response.

This was not the Chaol she had sent to Antica with Nesryn, confined to a wheelchair. She contemplated the idea of Maeve forcing her to live through her memories - but why would she choose this day? She had been freed this day. Not like the days before of torture and hunger and pain. Freed while those who remained were massacred. Those whom she had failed.

But it felt too real.

She stumbled slightly and Chaol's grip tightened around her arm.

How could this be real?

She remembered how Chaol had responded to her first conversation with him. Remembered his suspicion and distrust - his doubt of her questioning. His unrelenting defence of Adarlan. She needed her mask of Celaena - the swagger and arrogance, the bitter loathing she had felt and how it consumed her. Despite her reluctance to be that person again, Aelin pushed back her shoulders in arrogance ignoring the bite of her lashings. Her head raised with arrogance and she let her lips - torn and bloodied- rise in a crooked, wicked smirk meant to taunt. She looked at Chaol - who would love her, hate her, and be her confidante - and let her gaze sharpen into that of an assassin.

Chaol gripped his sword tighter.

She had almost forgotten the words that passed her lips.

"You're a long way from Rifthold, Captain." She remembered her fear, the looming death that she had once dreaded. "Did you come with the Army I heard thumping around earlier?" She didn't dare to let the hope she felt be seen. He had once replied with derision and doubt - she never thought she'd want that reaction again.

But he said again what he said in her memories "What do you care for the armies of Adarlan?"

Aelin fell silent again. Her mask barely faltered at the confirmation of her suspicions - there was instinct and a foreign warmth that told her she was in the past. Maeve would not let Aelin have even a speck of hope - in any illusion she was sure Chaol would taunt her, hurt her as Maeve had tortured her. She would not allow her the comfort of the past.

She had somehow been sent to the beginning. Her body was younger and lacked the scars it had slowly gained in the years. How had she been sent back? And why now, why not earlier? Earlier before the king had ever opened that tomb? Why not be able to save Sam - to have him and his companionship again? Why her alone? Chaol didn't know her or remember her - what could she do alone? She missed Rowan with a grief that felt like a punch to her gut. Rowan wouldn't know her. Her mate and husband would still be in the clutches of Maeve drowning in his own grief. He didn't even know she existed and Arobynn the spineless scum still ruled the streets of the capital.

Grief encased her for the court she had left behind. The people in the present would not know her or grow to be the same - if she could prevent any harm that could befall them she would. Dorian would never be possessed, Chaol would never land in the wheelchair - Nehemia would not die this time. The massacres of Calcula and Endovier would not be allowed. Rowan would not spend another week with the bitch queen.

This time Aelin would win.

They stopped in front those familiar red and gold glass doors. Chaol gestured for the guards to open it, and she knew behind it a throne room contrasting with the cruelties of the prison would be revealed. Chaol's grip tightened Aelin barely felt the ache of it. She was consumed by the wildfire, and she looked ahead into the lavishly furnished room at Dorian.

First, she had a championship to win.

Chaol stepped forward and bowed low in front of Dorian, removing his hood and revealing his face. Aelin's breath stuttered slightly as she looked at them. The sheer youth of their faces - their eyes not yet hardened by the months of pain ahead.

"Celaena Sardothien - Adarlans most infamous assassin."

Aelin recalled the hatred she had once felt for the crown prince and his guard. The defiance that had sparked in her eyes at what she had perceived them to be. She couldn't bring herself to imitate the same hateful bitterness again. Chaol and Dorian looked at her expectantly. She locked her gaze with that of Dorian's and inclined her head. Not a deep bow that was expected of a broken slave - a gesture of acknowledgment earned through actions not yet committed.

Steps thudded behind her and she twisted through the weight of her chains. An instinct this body had forgotten urged her to move, the shackles cutting deep into her skin as she jabbed out with her elbows in a gesture of self-defence. Duke Parrington's obsidian eyes glittered with the hatred of the demon who slumbered inside, and he surged forward to push her into the marble floor beneath.

"This is the proper way to greet you future King" he spat.

Aelin twisted her knee forward into his gut - the guards too in shock to move - and took advantage of his pain to counter his weight as her eyes saw red. A rage of wildfire consumed her, and she knew if her magic had not been sealed the hall would burn. He flinched, and she didn't register the blood that dripped from her shackles as she used all the strength in her weakened body to push his own away. The guards surged forward, gripping her arms and resting the cold metal of their swords to her throat.

"Enough!" Dorian's voice was an echo of the power he would command.

Aelin stilled. The hall was silent except for the heavy breathing of its occupants. She could not bring herself to regret her attack, though she understood the foolishness of it.

"Sardothien."

It had been awhile since she had been referred to by that name.

"Another attack to any member of my guard or court and it will be more than your life at stake."

Dorian looked at her with a calculating surprise. He had not expected that attack, and the promise was more in defence of Chaol than anything else. Aelin knew he didn't know yet of Erawen, nor had he experienced his magic or possession. She had been foolish. Without magic, in shackles and with her body so weak she had attempted an attack on the king of demons - she needed to control herself. Let nothing slip and arise no suspicion till she figures out a plan.

Taking a deep steadying breath - she nodded sharply at Dorian. Something in his eyes told her he understood she wouldn't try anything again.

"Duke Perrington. Don't you have a meeting with Endovier's treasurer? I would hate for you to be late." The dismissal was obvious and Aelin shuddered just slightly as the obsidian eyes of the demon regarded her as he left. Aelin noticed the blood and dirt that now stained the marble floor and frowned at the evidence of her ill-considered actions.

But perhaps this proved her skill even in chains.

Dorian considered her and smiled a charming, courtesan smile. It lacked any of its future warmth and was oddly sharp, perhaps threatening to who she had been when she first met Dorian. Now though - now it did not spark any of the fear that it had aimed to induce. His posture radiated the power of his position.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure of an introduction." Aelin shifted and the metal rang in

the air at her movement. The warm blood trickled down her arm from the opened cut. She had met this Dorian once before - on the night of her family's murder. Not that he would remember or recognise her as the same little girl.

"…. the Crown Prince of most of Erilea. You seem a little young." Dorian paused here, and his eyes flickered to the door Perrington had exited, "But perhaps that display proves your skill more than the tales that have been spread."

Aelin said nothing. Chaol stepped closer, his boot barely making a thud against the marble floor.

"After a year you seem more than alive - how curious that Endovier has not broken your spirit when most don't last more than one month?"

Aelin lifted her gaze, arching a mud encrusted brow at Dorian's attempt for to gage her.

"Most are not trained assassins." Maybe Dorian wouldn't get that hint - how most who suffered through the slave camps were the rebels escaping brutality or defending against. Most who did not deserve the conditions in which they survived.

Something in her gaze, the cold sharpness of that caused Chaol to snap defensively. "Your

Highness."

And Aelin couldn't hold her tongue in response.

"As flattering as that is, Captain, I'm not the Queen of Assassins- yet."

There was a stunned silence in the room, Chaol scowled at her and the hand that gripped his sword tightened. After a pause a laugh stuttered out of Dorian, amused and surprised.

"You do know you're a slave?"

Aelin wondered at the ease at which he laughed and didn't respond. How carefree they had been even after her release from Endovier. Dorian stood and walked down from his throne. Chaol stepped closer in his defence, glaring at Aelin for her remark.

Dorian hands tapped against each other as he shifted. Before, there had been an exchange about how she snapped - her eagerness for death. But her life now had a purpose and her death would serve that. Perhaps the determined steel of her eyes convinced Dorian to cut past the small talk.

"I have a proposition for you."

Aelin inclined her head towards him, "Indeed?"

Dorian swept her body with his gaze and Aelin struggled not to bristle against the act.

"Chaol stay where you are - the rest you, leave us."

The guards filed out and Aelin wondered if he knew how foolish that action was. She had just demonstrated her lack of restraint - and had she been any other assassin Dorian would not have left the room alive.

Dorians eyes never left hers as the last of the guards disappeared. Aelin didn't break the gaze and carefully kept her eyes void of anything that may betray her uncertainty. She just needed to get through this encounter and she would be freer than she had been in weeks.

"My father has found himself in need of a Champion - to keep his opponents silent."

Aelin turned her lips into an echo of a smile.

"And if I accept?" The words repeated as if by instinct.

"Your freedom granted after 6 years."

There was a tension in his shoulders and she remembered how much Dorian needed her to say yes.

Freedom. A small word that promised such hope. She yearned for it with everything she had - the freedom to run away with Rowan and leave the world to burn in spite. But the bite of her bonds reminded her of the people she could not fail - and she would need to be the champion again for some time to free them. There was also the matter of Erawen…

Her silence urged him to elaborate.

"There is a catch. The position is not yet yours - you'll have to fight for it."

She answered as she expected to, almost bored. "These competitors - do they measure up to my skill?"

Chaol scoffed from beside Dorian, who grinned. "That confidence might be charming if it were true! They're Assassins and thieves from around Erilea and perhaps you'd be able to best them if you were trained to your former strength."

"Three years."

"Excuse me?"

Aelin knew her she needed to bargain, as many years as she could get. She allowed the arrogance of Celaena to temper her words and shifted her hips in feigned exasperation.

"We both know I will win. Three years of service and I'll be your Champion."

Chaol scoffed at her demands, but Dorian regarded her with a calculating gleam she had not seen before.

"Four years of service and a wage as the Champion, provided you prove you have both the skill and are trustworthy."

Aelin looked at him and her breath was suddenly hard to gain again. This mask was exhausting to maintain, and the blood continued to trickle down her body. She needed to leave, and she didn't care for any more of this taunting exchange.

"I accept your offer." The tone was careful, and her features still pulled into the arrogant but blank mask of Celaena Sardothien.

Dorian addressed Chaol.

"Take her to her rooms and get her cleaned up. I will explain the rest in the morning when we depart for Rifthold."

Aelin hadn't heard the last words he said to her or felt the grip Chaol held her arm with as he led her away. When he unlocked her shackles in the bare room that would be hers for the night she had felt every turn of the key deep in her bones.

She had gazed blankly at the brutish servants who had bathed the dirt of her body, noticing the lack of ink that Rowan -Rowan -tattooed on her back. Her wounds ached but her chest hurt far worse with the realisation she had to do it all again.

Was it wrong for her to feel resentful? Exhausted? She didn't have any support - how could she be expected to go through this all on her own? Without an army, without her magic, without Rowan - what could she even change? Reaching down for her magic and her bond she took a shuddering breath that released as a half sob. There was a cold emptiness - a block against her magic and her stomach felt so sick to the core.

The silk of her bedsheets felt foreign on her skin.

She needed to get herself together - plan for the short term and get through the week.

The journey to Rifthold would take every ounce of energy she had, and she could not bring herself to keep holding on to the mask of a girl she had not been in months if not years. Celaena Sardothien had been dead for some time.

Aelin could change so much, save so many lives from her position. Nehemia was still alive - rebellious and ready to serve the world. Aedion would support her once he knew she was alive. Rowan - her heart clenched - she needed to break the blood oath from the bitch. After that it was his choice and his freedom - she would not force him to move on from the first mate he still grieved for. Dorian, she could help Dorian now with his magic - if he had discovered it yet. Lysandra was still with that bitch, Clarisse. Aelin would use the wages she earned, the money she kept locked away to buy her freedom.

The eye of Elena was still in the tomb, and magic was still locked away. Cain would soon start murdering champions under orders of Erawen, and Arobynn still had her amulet and wyrdkey.

There was too much to do and her time was so limited. She chuckled wryly, the sound rasp from disuse. There had never been enough time. Her death was still required and this chance she had been gifted with was that extra time. The foreknowledge of events an advantage to be used with caution.

Tomorrow she would head back to Rifthold. On the journey she would hear the details of the world, try to find out more about her court now - information she didn't think to ask the first time. She would allow herself this journey to grieve for her old court, the relationships which had been irreversibly changed and perhaps would never occur.

And then - and then Aelin would rattle the stars.

When Rowan had woken up in the old bedroom at Mistward, he had not reacted well to say the least. He had lunged for his weapons and stalked around the site he had protected years ago, watched with a suspicion he had not seen in his companions' eyes in too long. He remembered this day - it was one of the many days he had stayed in the empty room, alone and unbothered when Maeve had sent him away.

His body was younger too, lacking the recent scars and wounds he had gained. The burn from Aelin and the scar on his shoulder from the arrow were gone. Reaching for his bond to his wife - he nearly collapsed from relief when he felt it faintly there, but blocked and unresponsive. The lack of the blood oath that bound him to Maeve explained a lot. If he was indeed in the past - as all evidence suggested - he could find Aelin. Aelin who was just in another country, not in the clutches of the Fae queen. Aelin who may be leaving the Salt Mines - he had snarled at that - but into the relative safety of the Palace. He needed to go to her.

And so, Rowan had packed the meagre supplies he had and headed for the nearest boat to Adarlan. He had apologised to Luca, to Emrys and Malakai for his behaviour. He knew tat he had been drowning in grief in his own past, and they had not deserved his aggressive behaviour. He had given them an address – Aelin's apartment – for them to contact in emergencies.

And then he had set off, making two stops on his way to the nearest boat to Adarlan.

It had not taken long to find a boat willing to leave as soon as possible. Using charming bribes, learned via his wife, the boat had set off at first light.

Rowan, hours later, leaned against the wood of the ship that sailed steadily to Adarlan. As long as he was able he would send a consistent frigid wind in the sails - pushing the ship faster than it would have otherwise drifted.

The water reflected the faint light of the moon and Rowan felt for the mating bond inside him. The block was jarring yet comforting. It existed, and the relief of that fact still hit him with a force he had never known. Aelin would likely not be able to feel it in her human form - blocked from magic as she was. She would assume him still to be with Maeve, perhaps grieving for his first mate. Believe it was her alone who had to endure the world again and change the events.

She would not be alone again, Rowan swore it. They would force the very fabrics of fate to unravel and be woven anew.

Together they would force the world to change.

The moon reflected the heat of the sun into something cooler, crisp and unrelenting. The wind blew more steadily into the sail, and the wood of the ship cut through the ocean tides ever faster.

And now, cloaked in black to hide his Fae nature, he waited restlessly for his return to his queen and mate. This time, he would not fail her. To whatever end - Rowan would find her.

I got the idea from some Harry Potter Fix It fics - what if Mala sent Aelin and Rowan back to the beginning? How much could that foreknowledge change the events of the series?

Just wanted to get this out there - Aelin believes that she was sent alone because the lack of magic in Adarlan prevents her from feeling the mate bond. Rowan, free from that in Wendlyn, can not only feel the bond but also the lack of blood oath to Maeve. Their souls travelled together and he can figure it out from the fact that their bonds still intact.

UPDATE 13/07/2018

So I've edited the first two chapters together, and added and removed a few things - mainly minor at this point but it will change everything a bit more as we go on. Rereading the books gave me new ideas and also made me realise a few things weren't quite right in this story :)