#IronCoffin

[sandyhookhistory]

"The Brutal End of U-443" 80 Years Ago, Today – (Tues) Feb 23rd, 1943: For all of the carnage unfolding in the Atlantic, there’s still a very violent war going on in the Mediterranean. For three days, three Royal Navy Hunt-Class Type II destroyers have been hounding and attacking U-443, hunting her down like a wild animal. The three ships, HMS Bicester, HMS Lamerton, and HMS Wheatland finally go in for the kill. 62 miles north of Tipaza, Algeria, their depth charges find their mark. U-443 is ripped open underwater, floods, and plunges to the bottom of the Mediterranean. She takes All Hands – 48 Officers and Men – with her. There are No Survivors. Photo 1 shows the crew of HMS Bicester on February 24th, posing with wreckage from U-443 that floated to the surface, a very grim reminder of how lethal this business really is. 🇺🇲🇺🇲 ** Please Like & Follow "Sandy Hook History" on Facebook & Instagram for more amazing maritime and military histories of the Garden State and New York Harbor as well as a review of the 80th Anniversary of the Battle Of The Atlantic and World War 2** 🇺🇲🇺🇲 #visitmonmouth #newjerseybuzz #thejournalnj #locallivingnj #journeythroughjersey #centraljerseyexists #discovernj #yesnj #newjerseyhistory #newjerseyforyou #sandyhookbeach #sandyhooknj #sandyhookhistory #forthancockhistory #forthancock #battleoftheatlantic #kriegsmarine #uboat #uboats #ironcoffins #ironcoffin #notwarbutmurder #royalnavy #battleofthemediterranean #depthcharge #hmsbicester #hmslamerton #hmswheatland #nosurvivors #deathtrap (at Fort Hancock, New Jersey) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpCMVjTA4Cn/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[throneofjuliet]

Rip my heart out why don’t you

[bookworm-24-blog]

The heir of ash and fire🔥

Art: Cat in the pink hat

[thisxisxali]

Rowaelin: Locked in the Dark  Part I

Hello fellow Rowaelin shippers! I’m sure all of you feel just as shattered as me with the Empire of Storms ending, so here’s a little something to cheer you up, I hope. This is my first fic, so please be gentle!

Also, there is trigger warning for this chapter and mentions in the ones after

<3, Ali

***************

Aelin was locked up in the iron coffin once again after another brutal encounter with Cairn. She only knew how much time had passed because of the meals, if they could be called that. Every day, she was released from her iron cage. For fifteen minutes she would eat whatever slop had been placed before her. And then she would be shoved back into the coffin by another of the queen’s despicable soldiers.

Each week, it was the same. They brought her out on the platform, surrounded by what was left of the cadre. Then, Maeve would ask where the wrydkeys were. And each time, Aelin stayed silent. Each time, they whipped her until her back shone crimson with blood and her throat was hoarse and raw with the effort to keep the screams from escaping between her teeth.

And after each session, Fenrys would come to Aelin to bandage and dress her wounds. She knew it broke something in him every time he saw her, Rowan’s mate, broken and bloody. She knew this just as she knew how much he would give, if not for the blood bond between him and Maeve, to get her out.

But even these sessions of healing were not entirely of his own will. Maeve would always stand and watch in the corner of the room, preventing any attempts at escape, leashing Fenrys’ every thought and action- especially with regard to his brother, who was entirely at the mercy of the queen.

During these sessions, neither of them spoke. Aelin knew he was trapped, not entirely in the same way she was, bound head to feet in iron, but similar enough that she never questioned why he didn't help her. He was doing all he could, bandaging and healing her as much as possible.

So when Fenrys finished his ministrations on her back and said nothing, she was not surprised. But he stood in place for just a little too long, lingering as if there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't find the words to get out. In the end, he left, turning his back without another look in her direction.

She did, however, see the worry in his eyes. That he cared at all was something Aelin didn't entirely understand. But it was a relief, sometimes, knowing people cared. Not so much, she reminded herself, when Connall might be punished for Fenrys’ friendliness.

Then Vaughn walked into the chamber, bowed in the direction of Maeve, “Greetings, your highness.” And just like very other week Aelin had spent in the iron coffin, he roughly picked her up, making no move to be more heedful to her condition. He began the process of binding her once again with the chains of iron, starting at her wrists and ending at her ankles, tightening the rigid chains to the point where she couldn’t move. Aelin grunted in pain when the metal stretched tightly over her back, the bandaging not being anywhere near enough to keep the pain at bay. Vaughn just continued wrapping the iron with his gloved hands, ensuring that he did not feel the pain of touching iron unprotected.

Lastly, Vaughn reached for the iron mask and slipped it over her head. He pushed her into the coffin and locked the door, sealing her in an eternal tomb of confinement and misery.

She thought of her family, then, her court. She hoped they had made the best of her alliances. She hoped they were smart enough to take what she had given, and win the war. For Terrasen. For her - their home.

She knew she would never return. Knew it the moment Maeve had whipped her on the shore that day. She would not see the rise of Terrasen. Wouldn't see the glory of the coming battle. But her family would. And as long as they had a chance, Aelin could rest peacefully- as peacefully as she could in her condition anyway- knowing she had done all she could to bring them victory, a mighty army to raise a fallen kingdom.

But whether by Maeve or the forging of the lock, Aelin’s life force would have been drained for this cause. She was glad to have had this time with them. With Lysandra, her first female friend and someone she trusted to rule her kingdom with fierce love and strength. Aedion, her cousin and general, her twin and her protector. And Rowan…

Each time she thought of Rowan, her mate and her husband, the king of Terrasen, she wanted to weep. For what Maeve had revealed- that Aelin was settling, she would have had more than a thousand years with him-, threatened to tear her apart with ‘what ifs’.

With no food or water and her back screaming in pain any time she made a slight shift, Aelin’s body took rest in the only way it could. The darkness overwhelmed her and Aelin was swept into blissful relief.

***

Rowan had been flying overhead, searching for Maeve’s flagship every waking hour of the last several days. But it seemed the queen had some magical help as he couldn't find the ship, even was he searched with an ever-widening radius around their own.

Every  night he would return, mentally and physically exhausted, brooding at the thought of Aelin, his Fireheart, his wife, his mate at the hands of the evil queen. He would eat and he would rest only as long as needed to get his strength back.

Then he would be up again and repeat his mission, for it would not be over until his queen had returned to his side.

[suucrette]

GUYS remember that FUNNY scene when Ironwood is shooting in opening ?

I thought that it’s maybe metaphor. Like: he is shooting in Mantle.And he is in his actions always making THEM suffer more. And now he was planning to indirectly murder them. So... shooting down Mantle.

I was...wrong...-ish ?

He is just literally shooting a kid.

[beauti4soul]

A Black Woman Was Found Preserved In A 150-Year-Old Iron Coffin. Now Scientists Know Who She Was, And How She Died. Her name was #MarthaPeterson and she lived and worked in #NewYork #Scientists have #Identified the mysterious woman whose 150-year-old corpse was discovered in a metal coffin in New York City by construction workers in 2011 Archaeologists believe the #Missingwoman is Martha Peterson, a free #BlackWoman who worked as a domestic assistant for a white abolitionist, reports The New York Post. Her body was discovered when construction workers were excavating the grounds of an old church and hit what they thought was a pipe. It was an air-tight #IronCoffin and when a backhoe rose from the ground, its claws were clutching a #Corpse The woman wore a white gown, a nightcap and knee-high socks Peterson’s body was so well-preserved, forensic #Archaeologist #ScottWarnasch thought she had only been dead for a week. “It was recorded as a #CrimeScene ” Warnasch recalled. “A buried body on an abandoned lot sounds pretty straightforward.” Upon further examination, Warnasch discovered pieces of the coffin that led him on a journey to tell Peterson’s story. “I came across metal fragments that are pretty distinctive,” said Warnasch. “Right away, I knew what they were.” Samples recovered from her body provided other details about her life. According to chemicals pulled from her teeth, Peterson had been in the Northeast for at least a few years.Data from her hair told researchers she ate a balanced diet, while her facial structure placed her between 25- and 35-years-old. Peterson’s body was covered with lesions caused by #Smallpox Warnasch believes the disease traveled to her brain and killed her. Initially, he was worried the virus could still be active, but it was determined to be dormant. “The body was so well preserved that I would not have been shocked if the smallpox virus had survived,” he said. Warnasch pulled census records from the 1850s and used them to narrow the search down. “It was the first to list everyone in the population by name, age, sex and race. Only 33 individuals fit her criteria,” he said. Read the rest in the comment section. #IAm_MsJohnson 💞 https://www.instagram.com/p/BolO5zKBv9Z/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=44ovbdils76m

[umichfan]

#IronCoffin former HQ of the #PurpleGang it was so COOL #5yearsago

[gucheese]

After EoS

Parent: Hey, it's time to-- *sees you crying your eyes out* what the hell happened to you

Me: it's just...just..*cries loudly*

Parent: what? *starts to panic*

Me: A-Aelin..s-she..*cries louder*

Parent: Did someone hurt you or something?

Me: t-the..*cries louder* ROWAN!!

Parent: what the..who the heck is that?!

Me: *starts calming down* h-he...*cries loudly*

Parent: *starts panicking*

Me: the i-iron c-coffin! F-ck you Maeve!!

Parent: *starts realizing* *sees book clutched on your hand* Oh.

[thecandelabre]

In 1848, Almond Fisk patented a metal coffin he believed would revolutionize death. One problem: some people thought the burial case with its human contours was creepy as hell.

[thisxisxali]

Rowaelin: Locked in the Dark Part II

part I: 

https://thisxisxali.tumblr.com/post/164045234020/rowaelin-locked-in-the-dark-part-i-tomb-of

Hope you enjoyed part I!!! Here’s 2!

******

“Rowan, this isn't working.” Aedion caught up to him just as Rowan was about to take off.

Rowan only growled and made to transform, but then Aedion said “She’s probably in Doranelle by now.”

Instantly Rowan snapped to attention. Aedion was right. It had been nearly three weeks since Aelin had been taken from him; Maeve would have reached Doranelle by now. Why had he not thought of that? What were they doing to his Fireheart while she was locked in the dark?

These last few weeks had been stressful on them all. Lysandra had been stuck in Aelin’s skin and had to learn to navigate the political alliances that Aelin had made ready for them- foolishly thinking that they, her court, would take what she had provided and leave her to the wolves, with Maeve.

How could she ever believe that? Did she think so little of them? Of their love for her? Of my love for her? Rowan would bring her back. He couldn't leave his mate to suffer alone and not make a move to bring her home, to Terrasen, where she belonged- ruling over her loving subjects.

“I’m going.” Rowan made to take off once again.

And once again, Aedion held him back. “Hold on Rowan. You can’t just barge into Doranelle- you're not exactly inconspicuous. And they will have Aelin in a secure location with guards; you can’t get to her alone. We need a plan and backup,” Aedion reasoned.

Rowan glared. “Aelin is locked up and bound in iron. Who knows what they're doing to her in there? And you want me to stay here, sit on my ass, and wait? I need to find her and bring her home!”

It was the most Aedion had heard from Rowan in weeks, for the prince- their king now, he supposed- had hardly done anything but eat and sleep before flying off to continue his search.

“I know how you feel. I feel it—“

“You have no idea how I feel, Aedion. She’s my mate and she expects me to stay. Stay here and forget about her! I am destroyed, Aedion. You don't know the half of it,” Rowan growled lowly.

“But that doesn't mean you should go to Doranelle without a plan. It could get you killed! And what if we lose you too, huh? Tarrasen can’t lose its queen and king! One is bad enough! We are brothers remember? That means something to me. It means I have to look out for you when you don't look out for yourself. That is what family means.” Not to mention that Aelin would skin me alive if something happened to you and I didn't interfere when I could have.

Aedion went on, “I’ll call a meeting tomorrow morning. Nothing big. Only a few people we can trust to keep the secret. We’ll put together a team that will come with us as backup. Then we will leave as soon as possible.”

Rowan still did not look pleased.

Aedion sighed. “Look, Rowan. I understand. You're right, I may not feel the same things you're feeling, but Aelin is like a sister to me. I know how hard it must be for you because I feel it too. But walking in without a plan is not going to help her.”

Still Rowan did not say anything. He only nodded and continued to his room, most likely to eat, sleep, and brood some more.

Shaking his head, Aedion went to write the invitations for the meeting.

***

Rowan is the first to arrive, just as predicted. Over the next half hour or do, the others began to trickle in, starting with Aedion and Lysandra. If Rowan had not been so preoccupied, he may have thought it suspicious that they a arrived together. Then Ansel, Galan, and Ilias also arrived. The six of them took their seats around the round table in one of the rooms on their own ship.

“Why was this meeting so urgent?” Galan was the first to ask the question everyone was thinking.

“There’s something we need to tell you,” Aedion started. “But once we tell you, you can’t mention it to anyone outside of this room. So if anyone here would not like to shoulder that responsibility, feel free to leave now. This is your last chance.”

Unsurprisingly, no one left.

“Aelin’s been taken,” Rowan stated in that blunt way of his. “We’re here to figure out how to get her back.”

“But she’s right there,” Ansel said in a tone that implied its obviousness, pointing to Lysandra.

Lysandra changed into there true form, a relief to Rowan sitting next to her and having difficult time looking in her direction while she was wearing Aelin’s face.

“I am Lysandra. And as you may have just noticed, I’m a shapeshifter.”

The shock on everyone’s faces and their gaping mouths made Lysandra smile slightly. After the last couple weeks of holding court as Aelin, it felt relaxing to be back in her own body.

“Where is she?” “What happened?” “Why are you doing this?”

“Aelin,” Rowan explained impatiently, “has been captured by Maeve. Just before you arrived,” this to Galan and Ilias. “I’ve been searching for her every day for the last two and a half weeks. And I have not seen Maeve’s flagship anywhere on these waters.”

“I think she has made it to Doranelle.”

Ansel, Ilias, and Galan shot each other glances that conveyed confusion and more than a little fear.

Ansel was the first to meet Rowan’s eyes. “How can I help?”

***

The plan was set. They would leave tomorrow. Rowan would go to Doranelle in the company of several of Ilias’ silent assassins and more soldiers from both Galan and Ansel. Gavriel and Lorcan would be coming too, for they knew Doranelle better than even he did.

Aedion and Lysandra, as well as the others, had wanted to come along. But Lysandra couldn't leave, due to the part Aelin had assigned her to play. She couldn't be entirely defenseless and the armies needed a general, so Aedion had to stay as well. The others stayed behind to take charge of their own armies.

Once the details had been discussed, everyone had been sworn to secrecy- as had the individual soldiers and assassins that would be accompanying Rowan on the journey.

“They had better not slow me down,” Rowan growled before forcefully pulling open the door and striding out.

Ansel raised her brows and Lysandra answered her unasked question. “After Aelin was taken, he hasn't thought of much else. It’s a fae male thing, I suppose.” She said this with a subtle glance in Aedion’s direction. Aedion glowered.

“But they are mates?” Galan interjected.

At that, Lysandra looked to the ground. “They are. I’m sure that doesn't help his situation.”

Galan made a noise of agreement.

As the others left the room, Aedion went to Lysandra, who was staring out the window at the sea surrounding them.

“You’re doing well. I just wanted you to know that you’re handling this court thing perfectly.”

“Hopefully the charade doesn't have to last much longer,” she replied.

Aedion sighed. “I hope so, too.”

***

The next morning, at dawn, Rowan and his accompanying party met at dawn. Rowan detailed the plan further and they were getting their war-bred horses ready for the journey when Lysandra, as Aelin of course, walked up to them, Aedion not far behind.

Aedion stepped up to Rowan and embraced him. In his ear, Aedion commanded, “Bring her home, Rowan.”

As he stepped away, Lysandra stepped into his place. Partly for show, as there were others watching the group leave on what they only knew to be a secret mission, Lysandra embraced him. “I believe in you. You can bring her back.” She smiled tightly. “Good luck Rowan.”

Rowan could not stand to be near Lysandra when she wore her skin. But all the little things that made Aelin Aelin eluded her, making it quite obvious to Rowan and nobody else that she was not who she pretended to be.

So he tried for the semblance of a smile and turned around to get on his horse. The soldiers followed his movement.