#Abraxos loves her too and honestly he loves being around her

[pergaminaa]

Modern au:

Abraxos is Manon’s security blanket like— yes he’s her dog but to her he’s more than just that. She really can’t be without him she just starts falling apart and needs to have with her constantly.

As a dog breed, I honestly believe that Abraxos is a Rottweiler; looks scary and menacing (he will shred anyone who threatens Manon to pieces though) but he’s actually a cuddly teddy bear. He loves his human and is always attentive. He can sense her emotions and provide what she needs. If she’s anxious while they’re out walking he growls at the invisible danger, scaring any lingering creeps away. At home, he just wants to cuddle never mind his weight can actually crush her but neither Manon nor Abraxos cares.

[elrielllll]

“Elain was pretty sure they were lost” 😂 I love Perfect so much! I can never get enough Elriel though (those two are too sweet together) and was wondering if you could do 10 and/or 30 for the prompt thingy? 😍

A/N: Thank you so much love! I went with 30, I’ve already had asks for the other one and I’ve been writing so much angst lately that I needed something lighthearted...

Anyway here you go!

30“i’m not a damsel in distress, I’m a damsel doing damage”

Elain was completely and utterly swamped. Open a bakery, they said, it will be easy, they said, you can regulate your own work, they said.

Bollocks.

She was short for staff this weekend, it wasn’t supposed to be busy so she’d told everyone to take it off, (not the best management but Elain wasn’t all that good at the cold hearted bitch style.)

They had been overflowing with orders a few weeks ago when it was supposed to be their holiday, but she’d asked them to stay, so this was her making up for it. It had all been fine, no trouble at all, until this bride ran in, stressed to the max and fixed her pleading eyes on Elain. How on earth was she supposed to say no?

Even if it was catering for a wedding in under a week. She’d been pulling all nighters every day so far and she could honestly say that she wasn’t sure how she was still on her feet. She’d glance longingly at the couch in the back room where they did all the baking- not sitting down, even for just a second, was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Elain knew the moment that she gave in she wasn’t getting back up for a very long time, so in the end she had moved all her cakes so they were covering it from her line of view.

She had managed to get a few hours of sleep though over the last few days, running home to shower all the flour and grease off her before falling into bed.

Elain knew Azriel wasn’t happy with this, he was making that very clear in a way that was too adorable for Elain to get angry at him. He would visit her at work and she’d have to completely ignore him for fear of being distracted, which happened way too easily. They had been forced to put this rule in place the seventh time Nula caught them in a rather...compromising position and threatened to quit. He wasn’t too happy about it to say the least, so he sat in the corner and sulked, looking so forlorn you’d think the world was ending.

“It is!” He’d always protest, before pouting, folding his arms and shrinking back into his corner.

But she had to power through, there was no way she was letting this girl down, besides this was the last day of constant baking.

Elain wasn’t sure what time it was, late afternoon, either way she was starving and completely dead on her feet. She groaned as she dropped her head down onto the counter, not caring that it was covered in flour. Elain might have ended up staying there for longer than she initially thought but she was too damn tired to be bothered.

She jolted up when the door banged open, quickly blinking icing sugar out of her eyes, “We’re closed!” She shouted towards the front door.

“I know,” came the low rumble and she relaxed, she’d know that voice and those measured footsteps anywhere. Azriel appeared in the doorway and lent against the wooden frame, a small smile playing on his lips. “How are we doing?” He asked scanning the state of the room.

Elain stepped back as well, lips pressed into a tight line as she surveyed the carnage. She braced one hand on her hip and pinched the bridge of her nose, “mh it’s going great.”

Azriel hummed from his stop by the entrance, “looks like it.” There was icing sugar and flour everywhere, even on the top of the fridge. How the hell did it get there?

Elain didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that she looked like a snowman. Or a scarecrow. A scarecrow snowman. Yeah that sounded right. She groaned to herself and Azriel’s lips twitched as he moved over to her, looping his arms around her waist. “You look great.”

Elain looked up at him suspiciously, “are you mocking me? You better not be mocking me.”

Azriel clamped his lips together and shook his head.

Mockingly.

Elain slapped him in the chest, frowning and he reeled back dramatically, clutching a hand to his chest. She rolled her eyes at him, and faced back to the counter, muttering “child” under her breath.

“If anyone’s the child here, it’s you,” Azriel was back by her side, pulling butter out of her hair. Elain scoffed at him but made no move to dump a bag of flour over his head.

“Need any help?” He asked, resting his chin on her shoulder. She rolled away from him and walked towards the oven to pull out a tray of buns. “I,” she waved her hand over them, trying to cool them down, “am completely fine. Managing brilliantly.”

“You’ve mentioned that, but I can still help you if you want.” Azriel sighed at her, when Elain got it into her head that she was doing something, especially on her own, it was damn near impossible to get her to accept some help.

“I’m not a damsel in distress Azriel, I’m a damsel doing damage!” As she said that Elain flung her arm out... and knocked off one of her mixing bowls.

She looked down as it shattered on the floor and just stared at it for a few minutes. “Shit,” she muttered softly and Azriel launched into a coughing fit.

Elain’s head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes, pointing at him, “are you laughing at me?”

Azriel held his hands up, still coughing, “never.”

She didn’t buy it.

Elain groaned and trudged over to the couch, she was done, there was a limit to her genius, even if she hated to admit it. She flopped onto it with a huff, letting her eyes fall closed. A moment later she felt Azriel’s breath fan across her face as he crouched down next to her.

“Elain?”

“Yes?” She sighed, cheek smushed against the pillow.

“Want me to call everyone?”

“Yes,” she groaned and Azriel chuckled quietly. Elain cracked an eye open, to see him still in front of her, in his hand. “Why aren’t you calling them yet?”

“My phone’s in the car,” he wasn’t making any effort to mask his amusement now.

“Then go get it,” Elain suggested, a little bit more aggressive than normal, but in her defence she was tired out.

Azriel huffed a laugh, “I’m going,” he pulled himself up and when he turned to leave Elain flung out a heavy arm to slap his ass, and he yelped, shooting her a death glare, all amusement gone.

Elain settled back into the couch, a cocky grin on her face that no one ever got to see but him. He was almost out of the door when Elain shouted, eyes still closed, “Azriel!”

“Yes?”

“I love you,” her voice was breathy as she snuggled down into the cushions.

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~ Tags: @sleeping-and-books @meowsekai @awkward-avocado-s @superspiritfestival @abraxos-is-toothless @stars-falling @thesirenwashere @queen-of-glass @nite0wl29 @negativenesta @illyrian-bookworm @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @b00kworm @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @bamchickawowow @qoingcrazy @lovemollywho @tyheronthorn @gorl-power @fucking-winchester-trash @keshavomit @a-happybird @mysweetvilllain @captainthefangirlofhp @woodland-mist @maastrash @silver-flames @empress-ofbloodshed @courtofjurdan​ @dreamerforever-5 ​ @jemma-nessian-and-elriel elriel​ @welcometothespeaknowworldtour​

[rufousnmacska]

Child of Peace Epilogue 5 - Legacy

fanfic master list with all previous chapters

full story on ao3

This is it people, the final chapter of “manorian adventures post eos”. I actually wrote this part a while ago, before ToD and before half of my story was even planned out. This chapter was a special request from @itach-i so she’s been waiting a long time to finally read it! Honestly this wouldn’t have gone very far without her and @propshophannah feeding my manorian obsession, helping with story ideas, and beta reading. So, THANK YOU trash-mates!! Ok... here we go.

(Apologies if the formatting is bad on mobile. As usual, there is a keep reading break but who knows if/when it shows up.)

Easing her way out from under the covers, Manon prayed she’d make it in time. And without waking anyone up. The dog at the foot of the bed raised her head in annoyance, but the other one curled tightly against Dorian’s legs didn’t move. Good dogs, she thought, narrowing her eyes at them. For once.

As soon as her feet hit the floor she rushed to the bathing chamber, holding a hand over her mouth. Reaching the privy just in time, she hunched over, vomiting up everything she’d eaten for dinner. The nausea had been getting worse since it first made an appearance a couple of days ago. Through sheer force of will, avoiding most food, and a deep hatred of being sick, she’d staved it off. Until now. The few bites of roasted lamb she’d tried at dinner had been a mistake.

The thought of the greasy meat set off another round of vomiting.

Closing the lid, Manon rested her head on it and took a few deep, steadying breaths. Trying to think about anything besides her roiling stomach, she went over a list of things she needed to work on that day. Abraxos needed some attention paid to his iron nails and tail spikes. There were several changes to the laws in the Wastes that needed her signature. Asterin was making plans for the birth of her second witchling.

Manon froze. Witchling. She’d been so busy lately that she hadn’t noticed if she was late. Her bleeding was often irregular, and as witches only had it two or three times a year anyway, it was easy to lose track. That didn’t even take into account the distractions of running a kingdom. Counting backwards in her head, she realized she should have had it four weeks ago. Her stomach churned. Oh gods…

Lifting the lid, she threw up again.

Dorian woke to a chorus of low pitched whimpers. Rolling over, he saw Manon’s side of the bed was empty and both dogs sitting at the closed door to the bathing room. The sound of Manon throwing up brought him fully awake and he hurried from bed. Nudging the dogs out of the way, he opened the door to find her sitting on the floor, head in her hands.

“Manon?” He knelt down next to her, his voice deep with worry. He knew she hadn’t been feeling well, but this seemed rather serious.

She shook her head, then tried to vomit again, but there was nothing left. Loose strands of hair stuck to her sweaty face and she looked ashen. He chilled the air and made a slight breeze to cool her.

“Manon?” Still no reply. “I’m sending for a healer.” Chaol and Yrene were away, but she’d brought in many gifted healers to work in the castle.

He stood and she grabbed his hand, pulling him back down next to her. “No, Dorian. It’s ok.”

“It’s obviously not ok,” he growled. But she refused to let go of him. “Let me at least get you some water.”

Manon agreed and released his arm. After years together, he’d never seen her like this. Injured, yes. Many times in fact. Though, thankfully, not often since the end of the war. He returned with the water and watched her carefully drink. As he pulled her hair back and continued to cool her down, he realized he’d never seen her sick with an illness.

“Better?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding weakly. She shifted to lean against the tub, resting the back of her head on the rim.

“Do you want to go back to bed or stay here?” She still looked pale, and a little shaky.

“Maybe the couch,” she replied in a hoarse voice.

Dorian picked her up and carried her into their sitting room. The fact that she didn’t protest worried him. Usually, regardless of the injury, she would have insisted on walking by herself.

She was shivering a bit now, so he switched off his ice magic and moved the couch closer to the fire. He sat, then gently lay her down, pulling her legs to rest on his lap. The dogs jumped up and nestled against her. She rested a hand on the closest one and closed her eyes. He watched her for a while, then realized he hadn’t sent for a healer. Thinking she was asleep, he slowly lifted her legs and stood.

“I don’t want a healer,” she said, eyes still closed. “Not right now. I’ll see one in the morning.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked, sensing something was off.

Manon opened her eyes and he saw the tears gathering, about to spill over. “I’m late, Dorian.”

It took him a few moments to process what she meant. “You’re… “ His eyes widened with understanding. “You think you’re pregnant?”

She nodded as her tears finally began to run down her cheeks.

Dorian didn’t know how to respond. Manon was clearly upset about the possibility, and that knowledge brought a sharp pang in his chest, swift to come and swift to disappear. He turned to stare at the fire, letting the news sink in. 

They’d talked of having children of course. How could they not with the growing pressure to produce an heir. But with the joining of their kingdoms and the never-ending rebuilding from the war, they’d kept putting it off.

His emotions whorled inside him, too many to settle on a single feeling, a single reaction. His worry prompted him to say, “And you don’t want to be.”

She sniffed and dried her eyes. “I don’t know. It’s just...” she trailed off. “We were going to wait. With your magic making you long-lived, I just thought we had time to decide. And plan.”

He felt his own confusion double, finally understanding that some of it was coming from her. All their barriers were gone and he felt everything through their connection. Her sadness, fear, insecurity... Even small, hidden sparks of hope and joy. There was something else hiding within her storm of emotions, but he couldn’t hold on to it.

Dorian leaned over and kissed her, brushing her hair around her ear. “I know, Witchling. I’m honestly not quite sure what to think myself. No one can ever really plan for this, regardless of how hard they might try. You need some sleep. We’ll see a healer in the morning and go from there.”

She nodded, though he knew neither of them would get any rest. She knew it too, but they sat together watching the fire crackle, each trying to figure out how they felt about having a child.

Manon eventually shut her eyes, hopeful that pretending to sleep would bring it about, but the turmoil in her mind and body kept her from it. At the first mention of heirs several years ago, she had simply blocked it from her thoughts. She spoke all the requisite pleasantries when forced to by nosy nobles and councilors. But inside, she never let herself dwell on the possibility of having a witchling. The moment she did, she knew the matron’s voice would threaten to take over. So Manon continued pushing it away, pushing it into some distant, unknown future.

And now, it appeared that future had arrived.

Giving up the attempt to get rest, she sat up and pulled Dorian’s arm around her shoulders, leaning into his chest. He was awake, and not surprised that she was too. “I’m afraid, Dorian. There is no way I will be a good mother. Not with my upbringing.”

She sensed his spike of anger at the veiled mention of the matron. His hatred of her rivaled Asterin’s, which was no small thing. And although the evil had been destroyed long ago, her influence on Manon was still felt by both of them. Some memories had faded with time, only for others to resurface. New ones sometimes appeared as if out of thin air.

Yrene had helped her understand how that could happen, how she could have forgotten some of the things the matron had said and done to her. She’d explained that it was possible for people to force bad memories into hiding, until a time when the mind was better able to deal with them.

The healer had also given Manon a book to read. A passage from it had been running through her head ever since she’d made the connection between her bleeding and nausea. It claimed that abuse could become a cycle, passed from one generation to another.

“In what ways do you think you’d be a bad mother?” Dorian asked, pulling her back from her darkening thoughts. “I strongly disagree of course. But I admit that I’m biased,” he continued with a smile.

This was something she so loved about him. She knew he would think she was wrong, being too hard on herself.

“You are biased. Incredibly so,” she said with a quick smile.

He never dismissed her feelings though, especially the negative ones. Instead, he would get her to talk through them. And often, it forced her to sort them out logically and come to the realization that she was, in fact, probably being too hard on herself.

But this… This wasn’t a case of her feeling badly about how she’d settled a land dispute, or regretting losing her temper with a guard. This involved a child. Their child. Yes, she was the Queen, and the lives of their subjects depended on her and Dorian. But this felt so different. This was more. This was taking a clean slate and molding it into a totally new person.

She laughed dryly and shook her head. “There’s just no way.”

“You said that. Now tell me why,” he demanded.

Manon sat up and glared at him, her patience suddenly wearing thin. “Because I never wanted a witchling. Ever. Because if I’d had one, she would have been taken from me or used as leverage or turned into a monster herself. So I never let myself even consider it. Because I have no idea what a mother even does, how one should act. Because I don’t think I can handle the pressure. And if I can’t, will I resort to the shit I do know about raising a witchling? Will I become the matron?! And what about the bad days when I can barely get out of bed? When the darkness takes over. How can I put a child through that? What if she has that problem herself? I couldn’t bear seeing her suffer. Especially from something that came from me.”

She felt the tears drip off her face, not knowing when they’d started again. Dorian wiped them off with his shirt sleeve and kissed her forehead.

"Manon, I... I didn’t realize you felt all of that,” he said quietly. Then, with a rough laugh, he added, “I guess I didn’t have the best role model for being a father.”

This made her feel worse. She’d thought only of herself.

That’s not unusual. Yourself is all you ever think about. If it weren’t for that bond, he’d have left you a long time ago.

Manon squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists at the unwelcome intrusion of old, hateful thoughts.

Listen to me Manon. Dorian’s voice slid into her head through their bond. Not to it. It lies. I don’t. I love you.

She felt him rest his head against hers, then focused on the words as he repeated them.

A while later, when she felt more steady, she opened her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “And forgive me. I didn’t consider your past.” 

She saw his face cloud over with some memory, there and gone in an instant. He rarely had flashes into bad memories anymore, having learned tricks to overcome the words or things that might bring them crashing to the forefront. His nightmares had also dissipated. But they still happened. Their infrequency was almost worse in a way as they never knew when one would hit. He could go months without one, then the next night, he’d moan and thrash around until she managed to wake him. He’d usually spend the remainder of the night at his desk rather than try to go back to sleep.

Waving away her apology, he said, “I’m not sure that I’d make a good father, so I guess we’re in the same boat.”

After a long silence, Dorian said, “Maybe even people who had good parents feel this way though. They may have a head start of course.” Manon huffed in agreement. “But I imagine they still have the same anxieties. Wisdom doesn’t get passed down automatically from our parents. It comes with experience.”

“Which we have none of,” she interjected.

“Yes, but we know plenty of people who do.” Dorian rested his head atop hers. “Perhaps Aven could come and live here for a while? Anielle isn’t that far for her. She could return to the Maze whenever she wanted. Although she may have to fight a few other witches for babysitting duties...”

Manon smiled. Anielle is close to the Wastes, she thought.

Its proximity was one of several reasons they’d set up court here. Rifthold had been leveled during the war, so Chaol offered them his large keep and lands on the western edge of the White Fangs as a temporary seat for the throne. Not long after, Dorian had decided to demolish the castle in Rifthold, declaring it too costly to repair. Privately, he’d told Manon that he had no desire to return to it and relive past memories. He ordered the rubble be repurposed for houses and shops, and they’d lived here since, the town quickly on its way to becoming a full fledged city.

Aven, the Thirteen and Annabee, friends both human and witch... She’d gained so much support over the last few years, much of it coming from the man holding her now. Manon took a deep breath and released it, so grateful for Dorian, and feeling a little more at ease with whatever life-changing news came their way tomorrow.

They’d fallen asleep on the couch and Dorian was now paying the price for it. The dogs’ whining woke him up and he stood and stretched, groaning at his sore back.

Manon stirred, asking drowsily, “What time is it?”

“Early. Your dogs need to go out.”

“They are your dogs, Princeling. Especially when they need to be taken out,” she grumbled, pulling a blanket up over her shoulders.

Shortly after the dogs had arrived as a wedding gift from Aelin, he’d shocked everyone, including himself, by getting into the habit of waking up early and taking them for a walk. He’d come to enjoy the time to think through his plans for the day. And it had done wonders for the dogs’ energy levels.

Manon exaggerated her dislike for them – he often caught her fussing over them as if they were Abraxos. He had to admit they were hellions, which made sense that it was Aelin who’d chosen them. Abraxos seemed to enjoy getting them riled up around Manon, making himself look a little better in comparison. But Dorian had seen the wyvern nuzzling the dogs too. Just like his rider. Still trying to disguise their warm hearts behind a cool exterior.

He pulled on a jacket and sat to put his shoes on, the dogs running around excitedly. “I’ll stop and send a healer up on my way back. How do you feel this morning?”

“Not too bad,” she said, sitting up slowly. “I’m hungry, but afraid to eat anything. I still feel a little shaky.”

He kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

Dorian took a shorter route this morning and stopped in the healing rooms. Luckily, the midwife was on duty, so he didn’t have to ask for her personally. Gossip was inevitable, regardless of how trustworthy the castle staff were. But he was glad to avoid not calling attention to what was going on.

By the time he returned, Manon had bathed and was sitting at her desk. It was a sight he still hadn’t gotten used to, even after several years of ruling. She’d taken to this type of leadership quickly, just as he’d known she would. It usually took her a bit longer than him to get sick of the mindless paperwork, but she absolutely hated the meetings. All that bickering and debating... He didn’t particularly care for them either, but he preferred that to sitting at a desk and signing papers.

“The midwife is on her way. I’ll get cleaned up.”

Manon smiled, absently petting the dog now sitting in her lap. Dorian rushed to bathe and get dressed. He didn’t want to miss the healer. He also didn’t want to risk letting his mind wander too much. He wanted children with Manon, bad timing or not. But he wouldn’t push her into something she didn’t want or wasn’t ready for. And despite that desire, he still had his own doubts.

He hadn’t been trying to distract her by bringing up his father last night. Although he hadn’t suffered the same way Manon had, he certainly had nothing to draw upon when it came to good parenting.

Except, that wasn’t exactly true. They had more than just Aven to reply upon. Chaol and Yrene were wonderful parents. As were Asterin and Gavriel, Catrin and Alastair, Fallon and Annabee. They had support and good advice all around them. The thought sent a warm jolt through him, boosting his confidence.

When he returned to their bedroom, Manon was sitting on the bed, her back to him. Dorian looked around for the midwife. “Did I miss her? I tried to hurry.” She didn’t answer. He rushed around to where she sat. “Manon? Was she here? What happened?” She didn’t answer, just stared at the wall. Hesitantly, he asked, “Are you pregnant?”

She shook her head, her golden eyes bright with tears. “Oh Witchling. I’m sorry,” he whispered, sitting next to her and pulling her into his arms. They sat like that for a long time. He hadn’t noticed his own tears until she pushed away to say something and brushed them from his face. He tried to smile, but it was too hard.

“How quickly we both became attached,” she said softly. “It’s just a stomach illness. Several people in the castle have had it this past week.”

“What about your bleeding? Is something wrong?”

Manon sighed. “No. Just stress she thinks. I’ve never been regular. I just thought…”

“The combination of that with being sick,” he finished, nodding.

“I asked Tilda to wait. There was more I wanted to talk to her about.”

“Let’s go.” He took her hand and pulled her up.

Tilda was in the sitting room, tossing a small ball for the dogs. As Manon and Dorian entered, the older woman stood and bowed. She smiled apologetically at Dorian, who thanked her for coming up so quickly.

Manon sat down and said, “This was a bit of a surprise for us. So I wanted to talk to you about…” She trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her question.

“Prevention?” Tilda asked.

“No,” Manon said. Dorian turned to look at her, confusion on his face. “I’d like to know if there’s a way to determine how easily I could get pregnant. Assuming that I can,” she finally said. “I’m not sure if that’s possible. I’ve always had problems with my bleeding.” She touched the scar that crossed her stomach. “And I’ve had some injuries.”

Tilda nodded. “The exam I just did showed no signs of an internal problem, Your Majesty. There are many other reasons a woman may have trouble conceiving however.” She looked to Dorian. “As well as reasons a man may have troubles.

“The Torre Cesme has some techniques for testing a woman’s blood. They are not definitive though. Merely ways to indicate the presence or absence of some things that may impact a woman’s ability to conceive.”

Manon frowned, realizing what was wrong about Tilda’s words. “You keep saying ‘woman’. I am a witch.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the healer said, her face full of kindness. “While the Torre Cesme is advanced, and accepting of all, I’m afraid their instruction did not include much about witches. There wasn’t much cause for it. Crochans are gifted healers themselves, and the Ironteeth,” she dipped her head, “rarely visited the continent.”

Manon didn’t know what she’d expected. She knew how rare witchlings were, even with the curse of the Wastes broken. And she knew they fell outside the bounds of any kind of magic witches had.

Tilda turned to Dorian. “The work you both are doing with Terrasen and Eyllwe to build branches for teaching and healing throughout Erilea will only add to our knowledge. I’m sorry I don’t have better news. A Crochan healer may offer more help. Ancient knowledge that I haven’t been exposed to,” she added hopefully.

“I will check with my grandmother. But I know of no ways to help a witch conceive.”

The midwife stood and approached Manon. “Now that I know of your intentions, I can send a list of foods to the kitchens. They would only help in the early days and weeks of pregnancy, but it is a good idea to start now. I would also recommend reducing your hours spent at work. To try and lessen stress.” Tilda smiled at them both. “I know that’s easier said than done. But it is my job to recommend it.”

“We appreciate your advice, Tilda,” Dorian said, standing to escort her to the door.

Before she left though, the midwife turned and said, “Your Majesty?”

Manon raised her head, not noticing she’d slumped in her chair. “Please, call me Manon.”

The woman blushed but gave a slight bow. “Forgive my forwardness, but… I have no reason to believe you won’t be blessed with many childr- I mean witchlings. But if… If it should happen that you aren’t… You have other options.”

Manon looked from Tilda to Dorian, confused. He shrugged a shoulder. “What do you mean Tilda?”

“I was adopted. When I was very young. Taken in by an older couple from an orphanage in Antica. They are why I was able to attend school, attend the Torre Cesme. Without them… I don’t know what would have become of me.”

Manon stood and walked to the midwife. Taking her hand, she said, “Thank you Tilda.”

Tilda smiled, bowed deeply to both of them, and left.

Manon turned to find Dorian watching her, his arms crossed and a smile spreading across his face. “What?” she asked.

He laughed, dropping his head and shaking it back and forth. “You never cease to amaze me, Witchling.”

She tilted her head. “What?!”

His eyes met hers and she felt a jolt of emotion. Reaching for her, he said, “We can wait. There is time.”

Manon let herself be pulled into his arms. Let him run his hands through her loose hair. Let him kiss her. Let him hold her. And she loved every second of it. She hadn’t lost any of the fears and doubts that had plagued her last night. But this morning, learning she was not pregnant…

She’d been surprised by the disappointment that had washed over her. And the punch of sadness that had followed, when she’d wondered if it was even possible for her to have a witchling. She knew the doubts would persist. Probably forever. Life was full of them. All they could do was meet them head on. Learn from their mistakes. Keep their options open. Together.

Dorian hugged her tighter as she shared all of this through their bond. Over the years, they’d learned how to control the connection. They were both able to block their thoughts and feelings from the other, and that had become the default for them. It had been a choice. They respected each other’s privacy.

But the control required to block had enabled them to channel everything back and forth – thoughts, words, images, feelings, desires – over longer distances and with more precision. Manon could travel to the Wastes and still communicate directly with Dorian. He could visit the rebuilding effort in Rifthold and tell her about his day. Now, in each other’s arms, there was no distance between them. And really, the bond ensured there was never any distance between them.

“I know we have time,” she finally said. “But as you said, we’ve been avoiding it. There’s no harm in talking about it. Or starting to make plans even if they will likely change. I’m still afraid of how my problems might affect her.” She felt a tug on the bond and rolled her eyes. “Or him.”

“We should be careful not to let worry outweigh happiness. I don’t know what the right answer is. All of it is a risk. We just need to decide how much risk we can live with.”

She nodded, considering it.

“And Gods help us, she could end up like me. Charming, irresistible, the raw magic of a goddess… Umm, actually, I think I would prefer if our witchling was nothing like that,” he said, his brow furrowing as the realities of his joke hit him.

Manon snorted. “And if he favors you, Your Charmingness? Oh High King of Flirting and Magic Hands,” she said with a smirk.

His mouth opened but he didn’t say anything right away, thinking about all of the implications. “No. He can’t take after me either. Girl or boy.” He shook his head. “Too much trouble. He or she will favor their lovely mother.”

Clicking her jaw, she snapped her iron teeth into place. “Sure about that, Great Dimpled One?”

“We are in trouble aren’t we,” he said with a grin.

Manon retracted her teeth and brushed a finger along his dimpled cheek. “Yes we are, Princeling.”

Several years later...

Dorian ran up the stairs, damning that ceremony for the new healing center in Rifthold that had run late. Abraxos had flown faster than Dorian had ever seen him fly, and he was grateful for it. He’d communicated with Manon the whole time and was pretty sure he wasn’t too late. He burst into the sitting room and found Chaol, Gavriel, Sorrel and the other members of the Thirteen who were currently stationed at the castle.

“Manon,” he said, panicky and out of breath.

Sorrel grinned. “She’s doing great. You didn’t miss anything.”

He looked around the room. “The children?”

“Fallon and Annabee have them all. They’re playing outside with the dogs, out of everyone’s way,” Ghislaine answered, pushing him towards the door to the inner rooms.

He heard a scream and took off for the door himself. Yrene, Tilda, Aven, Asterin, and several apprentices were gathered around Manon. She was standing, clutching her large belly and breathing through the pain as Aven held her hand.

“I’m here,” he said breathlessly.

Aven raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Princeling. We can see that.” The little, old witch had taken to calling him that whenever she was feeling cheeky, or frustrated with him, claiming the nickname suited him. It made no difference how often he politely asked her to stop, or tried to explain that he preferred only Manon called him that.

“Nice of you to join us, Highness,” Asterin said with a wink.

Dorian took Aven’s spot beside Manon, chilling the air to cool her down. “Hello Witchling,” he whispered in her ear then kissed her cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Hello Princeling,” she said, leaning into him. “Don’t let them rattle you. I knew you would get here.”

She seemed so calm and collected, even as another contraction hit, forcing a muffled scream. But she breathed through it, exactly as Tilda had shown them a few weeks ago.

Aven plopped down in a chair, looking almost as exhausted as Manon. She caught Dorian watching her and said, “Just because I’m old and wise doesn’t mean I know anything about this.”

“But you had a son,” he countered.

She waved a hand. “Yes but I had others telling me what to do. And besides, that was a long time ago.”

Dorian glanced sideways at Manon.

She's not handling the stress of seeing me in pain very well. I was actually thinking of sending her out. Not exactly a good sign is it?

He hadn’t been there long but this was the first flash of worry he’d seen on her face. I'll handle it. We have enough people in here anyway I think. Unless you’d like me to invite Chaol in?

Manon threw her head back and laughed. When the next contraction hit, Yrene motioned to the apprentices and said, “It might be time to push.”

Dorian helped her to the bed and Tilda lifted her gown to check her progress. Manon winced and, catching Dorian’s eye, nudged her head towards Aven.

With his best smile, Dorian said, “Aven, would you mind finding the kids? I’m sure they’ll all want to see the baby. It looks like she’ll be here soon.”

Manon’s grandmother looked between them and sighed. She stood and walked towards Dorian. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Dorian.” She turned to Manon. “I was the same way when Annabee had Rhiannon. I told both of you that I would be useless in here and you both insisted.”

“It’s ok, Aven,” Dorian said. “I don’t want anything to happen to her either.”

She smiled and patted his cheek.

As he walked her to the door, he became serious and said,“You must know how much it means to her that you’re here?”

“I do know. Because it means so much to me that she’s here.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Call me when she’s all done and smiling again.”

Aven left and Dorian returned to Manon, who was back to standing. Tilda had readied her supplies and motioned for her apprentices to step back. She looked from Dorian to Manon and said, “Ok, Manon. With the next contraction, I want you to push.”

Grandmother led Will and Sophie towards their parent’s bedroom. Practically everyone they knew was in the sitting rooms, laughing and smiling and hugging. The twins could barely contain their own excitement, pulling their grandmother’s hands towards the door. They were getting a new brother or sister today. Will was hoping for a brother but Sophie didn’t care. She only hoped the witchling had beautiful, white hair like Momma.

Grandmother dropped their hands and opened the door. She bent down to them and said, “Off you go!”

Will took off running. Sophie didn’t want to get left behind so she ran too. When they reached the bed, they jumped up onto it, crawling into Poppa’s lap.

“This is Vesta,” Momma said. “Your baby sister.”

Will and Sophie both tried the name. “Vesta,” they whispered together.

Poppa bent down and said to Vesta, “This is Sophie and Will, your big sister and big brother.”

Sophie didn’t think Vesta heard what he said since she was sleeping in Momma’s arms, but she liked the way they were introduced. She reached over and tugged on the edge of the blanket, frowning when she saw Vesta didn’t have white hair. Will didn’t seem to mind that she wasn’t a boy witchling. He just stared at her with big eyes and touched her tiny fingers.

Poppa poked her belly. “What’s the matter ladybug?”

She wasn’t sure if she should tell them. She was happy to have a new sister; happy that she could teach her how to cut out cookies with Will, and how to play with Brax and the pups. And how to read. Well, after she learned herself. “I wanted her to have hair like Momma’s.” she finally said.

Poppa smiled. “You know, I hoped she might get Momma’s hair too. But I’m afraid Vesta is stuck with mine.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “She has Momma’s pretty eyes though.”

“She does? Can I see?”

“Me too,” Will said. “I wanna see.”

Momma laughed. “The second she’s awake you can both see.”

“How long til then?” Will asked.

“Well,” Poppa said, “Let’s all watch and see.” He leaned back on the bed next to Momma and pulled her and Will up to rest against him. He tickled them but stopped when Momma gave him a look to keep quiet. Sophie and Will giggled as Poppa smiled and kissed her.

Will leaned over them to check. “Is Vesta awake yet?”

Sophie sat up and looked around. “Where are the pups? Did they meet Vesta yet? What about Brax?”

“And the aunties and Uncle Chaol and Uncle Gavriel?” Will asked.

“Shhh, lay back witchlings. She’s still asleep. Brax and your aunties and uncles will meet her soon. You were at the top of the list. We’ll let the pups meet her when she’s a little bigger,” Poppa said.

Sophie and Will fell back against Poppa, not taking their eyes off Vesta. Momma reached over and tugged on their ears. That was her special way of saying she loved them. Will laughed because he was ticklish there. At the sound, Vesta began to squirm.

The moment Vesta’s eyes fluttered open, Poppa lifted her and Will up and they crawled over to get a better look.

“Ooo,” Will said. “They are like Momma’s.”

Sophie let out a quiet gasp, too busy looking at her sister’s eyes to say anything. They were the same gold as Momma’s, but they seemed brighter somehow, like they were lit from within.

Poppa leaned over them. “Do her eyes make up for my hair, ladybug?”

"Yes, but I think she will be beautiful because of both,” Sophie said, smiling up at Momma and then at Will. He was still staring, but broke away at Sophie’s attention. He gave her a nod and she turned back to Poppa.

“Can you...” She hesitated, double checking that Vesta was still awake. Momma had moved the little bundle so their sister was watching them. “Will you tell her our story, Poppa?”

“We want it to be the first one she hears,” Will explained.

“I think that sounds like a perfect idea,” Momma said, smiling at Poppa.

He agreed and pulled them back to his side of the bed. Sophie and Will snuggled in close, their eyes never leaving little Vesta.

“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful, brave Crochan witch named Allia. She lived far in the south of Erilea, and when she heard about the new witch queen, and how the Wastes had been reborn, she decided to return to her people. She was pregnant and wanted her witchlings to be born in the Wastes, so she hurried north.”

Poppa went on about all the dangers Mother would have faced. He liked to change them with each telling, and she and Will each had their favorites. But every version always brought Mother to the Ferian Gap, not too far from where they lived now in Anielle. Once she reached the Gap, the tale never changed.

“It just so happened that Momma and I were going to visit Grandmother Aven and decided to take the long way.”

“Brax!” Will burst out.

“Exactly!” Poppa said. “We took to the air and flew to the Gap. When we got there, we saw a storm gathering in the pass and chose to wait a day or two. But your Mother had already started through, not knowing that bad weather was coming behind her. When the snow and ice caught up to her, making flight impossible, she found a nice, warm cave to hide in. Once she settled in to wait out the storm, that’s when you two decided to make an appearance.”

He poked each of them in their bellies and they laughed. Poppa always tried to make them laugh then because the next part of the story was sad. 

“The moment the skies cleared, Momma and Brax and I started on our way. As we flew high overhead, Abraxos started pulling on the reins, insisting that we land. He growled and fought and refused to go where we wanted him to go. Since he never acted like that before, we knew it must be important and let him take over. He took us down into a craggy mountain pass, now full of snow, and landed right in front of a little cave. That’s when we heard what he’d been hearing.”

“Will’s crying,” Sophie said, earning a halfhearted kick from her brother.

“You were both crying,” Poppa said, giving her a serious look. “And for good reason. When we climbed inside, we found two little witchlings, all bundled up to stay warm. And next to them was their mother, who’d wrapped them up in all the extra clothing she’d had, and shielded them from the storm. Her broom was sitting nearby, too damaged to fly.” Poppa described how strong and brave Mother was and how she’d sacrificed herself to keep them safe.

Momma reached over and ran her hand over each of their cheeks. Sometimes Sophie didn’t cry when they heard this part. But today, with her sister so new and small next to her, she felt especially sad. And at the same time, happy. She looked over at Will and saw there was a streak of wetness down his cheek too. He bit his bottom lip and looked at her. They smiled at the same time, trying to make the other feel better. It always worked. Knowing Will understood how she felt always made it a little easier to get through this part of the story.

Vesta watched and made soft, little noises as Poppa continued. He told about how Momma winnowed them to Grandmother Aven while he and Brax brought their Mother a couple of days later. He told about the ceremony they’d had to send Mother into the Darkness, where she now waited to see them someday. He told about how they’d found a note stuffed inside their blankets, describing parts of mother’s journey, why she was returning, how she had no other family and wanted to be with her clan again.

He said he wondered if maybe she prayed to the Three-Faced Goddess for help, and Brax was sent in answer. Something inside both Will and Sophie told them this was true.

“The note had two very, extremely, super important things in it. Can either of you guess?” Poppa asked.

“Our names!” they shouted together. Vesta twitched in Momma’s arms, her dazzling eyes popping open at the noise. She must have fallen asleep while they listened to the story.

Will reached over and patted the bundle. “Sorry Vesta.” Then he turned to her and made a loud shushing noise. Sophie stuck her tongue out at him. She thought she might get in trouble for it, but Momma and Poppa were laughing.

“And so,” Poppa said, “since your mother didn’t have any family for you to go to, and since Brax wouldn’t let you out of his sight, and since we loved you both very much, you came back to Anielle to live with us.”

“Happily ever after!” Sophie and Will sang.

She heard Vesta coo again and looked up just in time to see Momma and Poppa smile at each other. Poppa took Momma’s hand and kissed it.

“Happily ever after,” Momma said.

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING!!

[keishajay]

I meant for this whole review to go in one post, but damn, I had a lot of complaints, way more than I thought once I started writing them down.  Some are nitpicky; most are related to characters and writing choices.  For the fans of this series, I did enjoy this series for what it is, but I’ll never defend it as great literature.  It’s Sharknado levels of fun, and I live for stupid shit like that.  For the haters, enjoy.  Oh, and spoilers ahead.

Now, on to the cons, and hoo boy, are there a lot of them.  First, I was shocked to see this was labeled book 7 and not 6.  I had no interest in reading Tower of Dawn, as it was marketed as a side story novella.  Kingdom of Ash expects you to have read it and spends little to no time explaining who all these new characters are.  It’s not confusing, just annoying for those of us not invested in Chaol’s story enough to read the novella.  If you like Chaol, more power to you.  I just didn’t care enough about what was a sure outcome to waste my time reading a novella about him and only him.  Nesryn goes with him as well, but she was barely a character in the fifth (fourth? I don’t know anymore) book, more a cool background piece than a real person.  That’s not nearly enough for me to pick up an entire book.

Maas brings in four new “personalities” from Tower of Dawn that really just take up space and fawn over Aelin, just like everyone else.  Hasar is just a crabbier version of Aelin; Sartaq loves Nesryn and that’s it; Yrene is Chaol’s wife who’s a healer and that’s it; and Borte likes arguing with her fiance.  They might be more interesting in ToD, but here, they just read like cardboard cutouts.  They’re unnecessary and boring.

And speaking of unnecessary, there are WAY too many POV characters in these books.  What started with a handful of mostly essential characters has now become a library’s worth of them.  Even Lysandra’s ward, Evangeline, gets a couple POV bits to herself. Why?  They added nothing to the story aside from remind us that she was there and still alive.  More POVs should only ever be added to further the story or themes.  I kid you not, Elide and Lorchan are together for 90% of the last two books, and for some reason, they both have POV chapters.  Elide was already established and should’ve been the only one necessary, but you know, Lorchan’s hot so we should hear him angst too.  And that is all he does, by the way, angsts over Elide.  Hell, by the end, I was a little surprised Abraxos didn’t have his own POV chapter.

Maas also adds nonsensical things in to ramp up the drama.  The worst offender is the character Darrow.  He and TWO other old men boss Aedion around throughout this entire book, because... reasons, I guess.  They don’t recognize Aelin as queen, fine.  But they’re three old dudes against Aedion, who literally commands their entire army and the fire-bringer all the people in their whole country rally to.  If anyone can give me a logical reason why Aedion didn’t just ignore every order they attempted to give him, I’m all ears.  Instead, he tiptoes around them constantly and outright steals his own army from under their noses to do what he wants anyway.  Why?  They all know damn well Aelin is the rightful queen and they wouldn’t even have an army without her and Aedion.  She could crush them under her thumb, and they all know that too.  Hell, Aedion’s treason would even be forgiven in moments when she took her throne back from... no one.  Darrow isn’t even trying to be king of Terrasen.  He just doesn’t like the idea of this bratty teenager being his queen, and who can blame him?  Yeah, I know she wants her country to be different, but she can’t change anything from the sidelines when the old rules are the only things keeping those men in power over her.  There is no good reason for Aedion to obey any of their orders.  They can do nothing to stop him, and they all know it.  They are literally only there so Aedion has someone besides Lysandra to be pissed off at.

Speaking of Aedion being pissed off at Lysandra.  For the haters out there, yes, he has every right to be mad at her.  She may not have been the one to come up with this insanity, sure, but she knew Aelin suspected it might be necessary.  Telling the one person who foams at the mouth anytime someone gets within spitting distance of his cousin that maybe something terrible could happen to her, making this plan necessary, should be at the top of your to-do list.  She knew damn well what she was doing and how he would react the entire time Aelin was teaching her to play pretend.  He should be angry with her for not telling him what was going through Aelin’s head, not for following the orders of their queen.  Yes, him throwing he naked out in the snow was a major dick move, and I’m glad that she didn’t let him forget it.  What I don’t condone is his reaction to seeing Aelin again.  He just hugs her like nothing ever happened.  He’s an asshole to Lysandra for months, but he just forgives Aelin for everything as soon as he sees her.  I’m sorry but no.  I would’ve forgiven the entire conflict between him and Lysandra being tedious if he had just punched her in the face before he hugged her.  God knows she deserves it for all the shit she’s pulled over the course of six books.

So, I hate Aelin Galathynius.  Like straight up hate her.  She went from being a brat in the first few books to being the worst case of Mary Sueitis I have ever seen outside of self-insert fanfiction.  First, she’s a secret princess, a “twist” anyone with a brain could see coming.  She’s also somehow the best at everything she does, even though she shows no evidence of any of it.  How does the country’s best assassin get caught?  On top of that, how does anyone even know who the country’s best assassin is?  Shouldn’t hiding your identity be rule number one in the assassin handbook?  This shit-licker could’ve been any happy-ass teenager with a knife pretending to be this famous assassin when they caught her.  How would they know?  Answer, they shouldn’t have any idea (that would’ve also made for a much more interesting story).  So, not only is she the best at everything she tries for reasons, she’s also the only one in the whole damn world with fire magic, the only thing that can hurt the demons for a majority of the series.  And she doesn’t just have regular old everyday fire magic.  No, she has fire to rival fifteen suns going supernova at the same time.  She’s also the prettiest and smartest and nicest and snarkiest and funniest girl in the world.  She outsmarts someone thousands of years old who could’ve snapped her neck or dropped her in to a literal Hell with a flick of her wrist.  But no, Princess Mary Sue wants her new boytoy free, so the villainess has to get tricked into letting him go.  Now, let’s not forget she’s also the Chosen One who deus ex machinas her way out of sacrificing herself because no one can do anything without her there to save the day.  Seriously, no one ever wins anything unless she’s there.  It happens more than once in this book.  Her boytoy and company show up to rescue her from aforementioned villainess just as she’s breaking herself out, and they can’t get her chains off until she somehow shows them how to unlock them.  She then proceeds to get them out of the country through her magic of summoning deus ex machinas whenever she needs one, and they arrive just in time to rescue Chaol and Nesryn from certain doom.  She stops a cascading river with fire because science, and when all hope is lost back home, she shows up on a magical white deer with the Rohir- oops, I mean her army.  She also somehow holds off two of the most powerful creatures in the world with her assassin skills and barely any magic, because... villains have to lose, I guess.  You know what Aelin loses by the end of the book?  Her humanity, which she suddenly cares about ten pages before it’s gone.  Aedion lost his father and at least half an army at his command.  Manon lost the only people she really cared about in the whole world, and she could do nothing but watch them sacrifice themselves.  And Aelin lost her humanity when she’s already been living as a fae since book 3.  Oh God, how will she ever survive such a loss?  She is actually the worst.

These books, this one in particular, are clearly written with a younger audience in mind (much younger than me at least, and I’m 30), and I strongly believe the target audience is girls.  There is so much description of how beautiful the men in this series are that it almost borders on obscene.  I do appreciate having a clear picture of what characters look like, but I do not need to know about all the rippling muscles and long fingers that all the men in this series seem to have.  Even bookworm Dorian is described as being oh-so-sexy even though he doesn’t appear to have ever handled a weapon in his life.  There is a lot of pandering to the female audience, especially with the sex scenes.  In a YA novel, these are pretty inappropriate.  She started with sex scenes being a fade-to-black kind of event, and now, almost every single one is described in disgusting detail.  I like romance as much as the next girl, but if I wanted soft-core porn, I’d read romance novels.  To top that shift off, she still insists on using “rutting” as a substitute for “fucking,” and I think that’s what bothers me the most about the whole change here.  They are completely interchangeable in every context, to the point where I just read “rutting” as “fucking” every single time.  This isn’t Brandon Sanderson’s silly but story-appropriate swearing.  It’s just lazy writing.  And detailed descriptions of sex are okay, but swearing?  Someone call Takamata.  We need to start the Inquisition. (History of the World reference for anyone confused.)

This story ends exactly as you should expect it to, with a happily ever after.  None of the main characters die, and those with names go out as sacrifices, which is honestly consistent with the rest of the deaths in this series.  The deaths we do get are mostly to make the main characters feel bad for no real reason.  Aedion even flat-out states that Gavriel could’ve stayed inside the walls, and there is no argument, author or characters, as to why he had to go outside.  At least the Thirteen’s sacrifice makes more sense.  It was still pretty dumb to have them go out at all, but I don’t know if I could come up with a better way to destroy those witch towers.  What they did was noble and understandable in context, though there were probably any number of ways it could’ve been avoided.  I’ve seen Desolation of Smaug.  Just drop a dragon/whale/elephant-Lysandra on top of the tower before they even get it fixed up to move again.

One last complaint that I have regarding the ending is largely the villains.  There are three of them, and all three kind of go out like bitches.  Erawan, the dickhead pulling the strings since book 1, gets tricked and healed to death.  There are a lot of millennia-old creatures getting tricked into doing stupid things in these books.  Manon’s grandmother (who never gets a name by the way) gets blown up by Asterin.  Honestly, hers was probably the most satisfying end of the three because Asterin got the vengeance she deserved for her hunter and child.  Maeve somehow became the biggest threat halfway through the series, and she meets her end in the most extravagant fashion, impaled by Fenrys and then decapitated by Aelin and burned to ash.  What irritates me most about Maeve is she could’ve been great.  If anyone has read the manga, Magi, you know what I’m talking about.  Maeve is discount Gyokuen with half the threat and less than a quarter the sense.  Where Gyokuen is highly capable, both as a fighter and a politician, Maeve is kind of a pushover who gets tricked by our “heroes” numerous times.  She’s shown preparing for all sorts of unlikely eventualities, but she somehow can’t handle the plucky teenagers.  Give me a break.  From the moment you meet her, you know Gyokuen is going to be one of those bad guys that will require some clever thinking to defeat.  I felt like Maeve could just be snuck up on and murdered by anyone who knew her schedule.  Her last ditch effort against Aelin was clever, but other than that, she barely puts up a fight despite all the fear and hype she gets from almost every character in the book.

Now, like I said above, I did enjoy these books.  I don’t feel like my time was wasted or that I was manipulated by them at all.  I had fun with them the same way that I have fun with SyFy channel original movies.  The characters and story had so much more potential than what this amounted to, but I don’t hate this series at all.  Yes, the subplot with the gods was idiotic and unnecessary, but the valg were interesting as an enemy type.  Yes, the romance shoved down my throat could be awful at times, but some of the relationships were genuinely sweet.  Chaol and Dorian are the best bros, and I love Lysandra taking it upon herself to protect this little girl when she could’ve looked the other way.  Manon’s relationship with Asterin was great as well.  Do I wish it was better?  Absolutely.  Should it be boycotted by everyone?  Of course not.  Despite their problems, these books are fun, fluffy, popcorn movie fun, and sometimes, that’s just fine.

[emdythewriter]

Iron of Kingdoms: prologue (manorian fic)

A/N: I honestly don’t know how long this will be but basically this is set after the last TOG book and I’m going off an ending that a lot of the fandom seems to want so fair warning.

Summery: It’s a little over two years after Aelin and her allies have defeated erawan and Maeve and they used hollin as the sacrifice. Manon and Dorian now have a daughter named sorchella who at this point is only a few weeks old and there ends up being this attack on her life ordered by dorians mother who now hates him because he took away her son the only thing she truly loved, and now wants to do the same to Dorian. Him and Manon decide to send their daughter far away to a land called prythian ;) where she will be protected and safe and won’t be tracked until they can take care of her vengeful grandmother and bring her home. Along the way sorchella may or may not meet her mate but doesn’t know it cause she’s so young throughout most of the story.

Word count: 2643

___

Prologue

Abraxos was flying fast. They were late thanks to a little stop they made all because Dorian couldn’t stop kissing her neck and moving those god damned phantom hands he loved so much, loved because of how much they made her moan. She couldn’t hold out any longer so the moment she spotted an abandoned cabin she landed Abraxos and barely made it through the door before she was tearing at her husband’s clothes.

Her husband. It still seemed like such a weird thing to say, he belonged to her in every way as she did him. They had married in the midst of a battle with Valg creatures, but neither of them cared. Astrin had married them as she defended the Crochan Queen’s back. It wasn’t planned but it was them, it was her and Dorian.

The King of Adarlan landed Abraxos in a clearing not too far from the new manor of Terrasen where the King and Queen lived with their court. They had been called to the manor this morning, the letter announcing the birth of the new Heir to Terrasen, Brandon. The letter also said they were to come and welcome the Fae boy, when in actuality it meant Rowan was tired of taking care of his mate and son all by himself.

Lysandra was outside ready to greet them, Evangeline at her side. The young girl was starting to turn into a woman which both the shapeshifter and Aedion, Aelin’s cousin and general, hated. She even had more sass in her, if that were possible, than she did as an eleven year old girl.

“It’s about time you guys got here, but leave it to you two to be the last ones to arrive and reeking of sex too,” Dorian went red at the former courtesan’s comment but when he turned to face his wife all he found was a smirk, that he smiled at.

The two royals followed the dark haired woman through the front door and down a bunch of different hallways until they finally arrived at the bedroom Aelin and Rowan shared. All eyes went to the witch and King as they entered, Rowan was sitting next to his wife, his Queen and mate and more, on the bed with Aedion at his side ready to protect them of a threat entered the room. Elide was in the bathing room with Lorcan, washing the bloody cloths they had used and rinsing the bowels.

Fenrys stood with the other members of the cadre at the end of the bed. His brother Conall on one side of him with his lover Vaughan on the other side of his twin, both close to the other. Gavriel, Aedion’s father stood on the other side of Fenrys looking like he was lost in thought. Surprisingly she found Chaol and Nesryn in the corner and out of the way, the young woman asleep on his lap.

“Did you seriously have sex before you came to meet my son?” Aelin said by way of greeting, which was very typical for the Queen. If all eyes weren’t on them before they certainly were now, Manon had a bright smirk on his face while Dorian was trying to hide his blush.

“Blame it on my husband, he wouldn’t stop feeling me up,” the witch answered as she swaggered over to the bed and sat down next to the blonde. “He’s learned a little too much from your husband I’m afraid.”

Manon sent Rowan a look that could have been a glare of there wasn’t the bit of humor behind it. Aelin glanced over at the Fae warrior sitting next to her giving him a questioning look, all the male did was shrug in response.

“Well if I remember correctly you were the one that landed Abraxos, so it wasn’t like you were objecting,” Dorian shrugged as leaned against the door frame and smirked as his wife sent him a playful glare.

“But does this really need to be the subject of discussion around three kids?” Rowan spoke up though any other day he probably wouldn’t mind comparing notes.

“Who’s the third?” Evangeline asked in her quiet and soft voice after doing a head count around the room.

“Elide,” Aelin answered as she looked down at her son, moving some of the blanket off his face.

At the sound of her name the young woman poked her head out of the bathing room, “I’m not a child, I’m year younger than your wife!” She shouted at them with a glare on her face, you could even hear Lorcan laughing behind her something he only seemed to do around the Lochan girl.

“I can assure you all that girl is anything but innocent,” Manon said as she laid back against the pillows, the baby cooing as it sensed her presence.

“I think someone likes you,” the Queen of Terrasen commented at the witch looked over at the small child, a confused look on her face but also half shocked. Brandon was still cooing at her as she sat up and looked over at his face.

You could tell her was the son of Aelin and Rowan instantly. He had the blonde fair hair that both the Queen and her cousin shared, but instead of Ashryver eyes he had the alarming green like his father. She knew the Fae boy would grow up and break hearts someday until he finally met his mate, wherever she was in the world.

“If you want you can hold him, I could use a break,” Aelin said breaking Manon out of her trance. She didn’t say anything as she started at the child and before she knew it Brandon was in her arms and smiling, actually smiling up at her. Dorian felt like he was going to fall to his knees at the sight, the way his wife held the child like she would do anything to protect him made him wonder what it would be like if it were her witchling.

He had never broached the subject with her, after all they were only married for almost a year at this point. Saying he hadn’t thought about it though would be a lie, he always seemed to think about it. Yes she knew she was his wife and the wife of a King meant an heir would need to be provided, but Dorian would never force that on her.

If Manon wanted a child, and wanted it with him then he would give her that, but if she didn’t he could live with it so long as she was happy and content.

She smiled back down at the baby, and didn’t even know she did it until her face started to ache. Manon didn’t care though, no she wouldn’t ever care not around the boy. He wasn’t hers not by any sort of relation but she knew in heart that if someone dared to lay a hand on his head they would lose it, or perhaps more.

“Leave us,” Aelin spoke. The witch didn’t realize how silent the room had gone until the new mother next to here said those two words. The cadre left the room first followed by Elide and Lorcan who were taking the cloths they had used down to be properly washed. Nesryn and Chaol left next after he had woken the woman from her sleep saying something about finding their room and resting for the night, Aedion followed offering to show them where to go. Evangeline followed after the general taking the shapeshifter with her.

Dorian lingered in the doorway, not wanting to leave his wife alone with his friend, but even Rowan was getting up to leave taking his son from Manon as he went. Those golden eyes that had saved his life once upon a time ago traced the males steps as they left the room, but Dorian saw they were wholly focused on the child and nothing else.

The door shut behind her husband and Aelin didn’t waste a second with getting to the point. “How far along are you?”

“What?” Manon asked as she turned to face the Queen. She wasn’t sure what Aelin was asking of her but that smirk she was sending her told Manon it couldn’t be good.

“Come on not only do you reek of sex but you also reek of a child,” she didn’t think she could ever be thrown off like this. The last time Manon had been utterly shocked like she was now was when Dorian had decided to marry her in the middle of a battle, she still thought he was crazy for it. He was crazy but yet that ring sat on her finger and it was very real, very real and something she would never go without.

“I’m not—I mean I can’t be,” gods she was stuttering, stuttering completely lost for words. That was something Manon certainly had never done and didn’t even think she knew how.

“You don’t have to believe me but it there and there’s no hiding it,” Aelin said as she leaned back, burying herself further in the pillows obviously tired from giving birth. “See a healer on your way home if you don’t believe me I’m sure you’ve got plenty waiting at the castle.”

With that Manon floated out of the room, letting Aelin have the rest she needed. She didn’t bother with goodbyes as she silently grabbed Dorian’s hand and led him outside to where Abraxos waited.

___

Manon had gone straight to bed when they got back to Adarlan. Dorian had tried to talk to her but she just said she was tired, something he never got unless she had a long day of hunting. Even then she was still up for some late night activities.

Tonight though she had crawled into bed and though he knew she was still awake he didn’t say anything. Turning his back to her he tried to fall asleep and only did when she had managed to doze off too.

This morning she hadn’t been there when he woke up and he searched the whole castle for her, asking guards and servants if they had seen his wife come through. All of them said no, so Dorian headed back to his bed chambers hoping she would show up soon.

Abraxos was still out back so he knew she hadn’t flown off anywhere and was still in the city, but it didn’t calm his nerves one bit. Manon could be anywhere and of course he knew she could handle herself but what would happen if today she faced off against the one person she couldn’t beat? He tried not to let that thought worry him as he entered his rooms.

“Would you stop you’re starting to reek so badly I’m sure the other side of the world can smell you,” he gaze fell upon the desk where she sat staring out at the wall in front of her. Silently Dorian went and pulled up a chair in front of her but her gaze didn’t falter.

“I went to see a healer this morning,” she said after a few silent moments, and she said it as if it was supposed to explain everything but he needed more.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked reaching out to grab her hand, his ring glistening in the light that was seeping in through the curtains.

“Yeah just—” she cut herself and took a deep breath as she looked at their hands. “Dorian I’m pregnant,”

His world seemed to stop. His eyes were wide as he stared at Manon and had nothing to say. He didn’t know of there was anything he could say that wouldn’t get him killed. She didn’t sound thrilled about it and yet he was, but he didn’t want to sound disappointed just in case she actually wasn’t.

“Manon you’ve got to talk to me,” he decided that was the best choice of words for this situation.

“For the first time in a century, I’m actually scared and I forgot what this fear feels like,” she said, shocking him a bit. Manon stood up from her seat and walked to the window staring out at their shared city.

“I never thought of having a witchling, it was something I never thought I could do and not because I wasn’t capable but because it never seemed right,” she started to talk again and Dorian just watched her and listened, which was all her really could do.

“When I found out I was the Crochan Queen I knew I would have to have a witchling now, I would need an heir after all. Yet even then it didn’t seem right, being a mother never seemed like a good description for me.

Then I held Brandon yesterday, and the world seemed to shift. It was like something was telling me that I was going to be something I never thought I could be someday, I didn’t think it would be this soon though.”

Manon took a deep breath and then turned back to face her husband. His heart almost stopped as he saw that glistening of tears in her eyes, he only seen that look once when she thought he was dying. It was the first time he had ever seen that cold and calculated mask break, the first time he saw the woman she truly was and not what she showed the rest of the world.

“I’m scared Dorian. What if I turn out like her? What if I’m just as bad as she was to the rest of us? I’m scared I’ll screw up, I’m scared I won’t ever be good enough, I’m just—I’m so scared,” Dorian had moved at this point to where she was in the middle of the room.

He hugged her to his chest tightly, pressing a few kisses to her head as she silently let the tear fall. He didn’t say anything for a while, not until he knew she was calmed down enough and it was safe.

“You won’t be your grandmother, and you want to know why?” He pulled away from her slightly so he would look down at her face, the face of the woman he had married while blood and guts flew around them.

“Because you are Manon Blackbeak Havilliard, and you are my wife and my Queen. You are Manon and you are beautiful and strong and can and will do anything you set your mind to. You are Manon and I believe in you and I love you,” Dorian brushed away some of her tears as she looked up into those sapphire eyes and smiled, it was small but it was there.

She leaned up into him and pressed a kiss to his lips, pulling him closer as she deepened it. He brushed his tongue against hers and knotted his fingers in her white hair that shone in the darkest of places. She held his waist pressing her hips against him as she did so. Dorian pulled away first, and she almost groaned at the lack of contact as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.

“Well both make mistakes Manon but well do it together, you won’t be alone ever I promise,” she didn’t kiss him this time as much as she wanted to, kissing him wouldn’t convey what she felt for him in that moment for his words.

Instead Manon pressed her forehead against her husband’s and closed her eyes. Reaching for his calloused hand she pressed it over her heart and let his feel the steady pulse, her hand resting over his. Dorian closed his eyes as well as he stood there with his wife, listening to her heart and knowing everything she couldn’t say with words. Knowing because he felt the same way.

[lonely-little-lovely]

Fight or Flight (Elorcan) pt 1

(in which I am once again a slut for modern day Elorcan. I’ve wanted to do something like this for a while, so I hope it’s okay! ) 

Elide Lochan tapped her fingers impatiently against her jeans, her carry-on bag slung over one shoulder. Airports always made her antsy- part of her expected her uncle Vernon to just appear out of nowhere. He's in jail, she reminded herself. If he ever gets out, it won't be for another ten years at least.    

The day she'd stood against her Uncle as a witness had been one of the hardest days of her life, but it had been worth it. He'd been charged with battery, assault, neglecting a child, fraud, and also dealing illegal substances for his boss's company. She hadn't known about that last one, but it had been a definite plus. Three years ago, that had happened.   

 And for four years now she'd been free of him. Four years since she had hunted down her God siblings Aelin and Aedion, four years since she had met Manon and the Thirteen and had her first friends since she was a child. Four years since she had vowed never to go back to Morath, and that was a promise she intended to keep. Her life was, if she was being honest, amazing. She owned her own bookstore in Perranth, the town she'd been raised in, and was perfectly content living above it in her cozy little apartment.  

 It had been almost two years since she'd had her last night terror.   

 She handed over her ticket to the clerk, smiling politely when it was scanned and handed back to her, and limped through the gate towards the plane. Usually, she'd never go directly from one place to another, but Manon had insisted she come for a few days to her home in the Wastes. It had been a damn long time since they'd seen each other, and it seemed her friends weren't okay with waiting until Thanksgiving.   

 So that had been the last six days for her, but instead of going home to Perranth and her little bookstore, Anneith's, named after the Greek Goddess of wisdom, she was going straight to her sister's wedding. She'd been sure Lysandra was going to be the maid of honor, so when she had been bestowed it instead, she may have cried a little bit. And it wasn't like she couldn't afford traveling from one place to the next- not only did she have the steady income of the bookstore, but she had all the money her parents had left her. The money Vernon had hoarded from her for years.  

  She let a family of four pass her, not wanting to slow them down with her crippled leg, and then started going again, entering the plane. The stewardess smiled and asked if she needed any help after a glance at her ankle. Elide kindly refused- it was insulting, honestly, when people thought she needed help. She had escaped her Uncle, had navigated through bustling Orynth and found her family and friends with that ankle. It wasn't, and never had been, an excuse for her to not be able to do something.   

 She shoved her carry-on into the compartment above her head and then slid into the first class seat, glancing out the window. Nothing but concrete and the grey skies of the Wastes awaited her. She wished Manon had been able to come with her to Aelin and Rowan's wedding, but she had the last of her recently deceased grandmother's paperwork to deal with, and she couldn't get away. Her lover, Dorian, would be there to offer her congrats, at least.     

 There was a shifting, and Elide glanced over as a towering man slid into the remaining seat next to her, not even sparing her a glance. He was incredibly handsome, even with the scowl that seemed permanently sketched into his face, and if the designer jeans and jacket over his black Henley said anything, he had money. She allowed herself to appreciate the dark hair and eyes and the muscle of him for a second more before she turned back towards the window. When she felt the weight of his eyes finally fall on her, she didn't look over.  

  They were quiet through everyone settling into their seats, and when the pilot announced that they'd be taking off soon and began to go through safety guidelines as they did through every flight, Elide blew out a breath, buckling up. The handsome stranger's gaze was buried in his phone, and she moved to dig out her own phone. She texted Aelin quickly, saying she'd be landing on time in five hours, and then powered it off. Her purse carried almost nothing but books- Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, Ana Karenina, and a new one she had just started reading, A Court of Mist and Fury. She dug the latter out and opened to the page she had dog eared.  

  She prayed she wouldn't get freaked out this time- she'd been on plane rides plenty of times, but she had never seemed to get that fear out of her when they first took off, even if once they were in the air, it felt like she had been made for flying. The plane moved slowly at first, and she was feeling pretty confident that this was it, this was the time that she'd finally be okay for lift off. But then it sped up and her breath hitched, all thoughts of Feyre and Rhysand forgotten as the plane lurched upwards. She scrambled for anything to hold onto. And that 'anything' just so happened to be the handsome stranger's muscled arm.   

 He turned slightly, raising an eyebrow, and she smiled sheepishly, retracting her grip. "Sorry," she murmured, going to grip the arms of the chair instead and wincing as her ears popped.   

 "First time flying?" He guessed in a smooth, deep voice.   

 "Twelfth, actually," she replied, her own voice strained and small. She took a deep breath. "The flying part, I like. But I just can't seem to get used to the taking off part." He snorted, and she raised an eyebrow at him despite the fact he was a stranger. "I suppose you love flying?"  

 He gave her a dry smile. "I hate it, actually. The entire thing. But it comes with the work."  

  "And the work is?"   

 "Ex military." That would explain how muscled he was. When he chuckled, she realized, in horror, that she had said that out loud. Her cheeks went red, but he didn't seem to mind, extending a hand. "I'm Lorcan."   

 "Marion," she replied before she could stop herself. It wasn't like she'd ever see him again, and you could never be too cautious around strange men. He probably wouldn't even remember the skimpy girl he'd met on a plane ride. Part of her wondered if she should get back to her book, if she was bothering him, but she asked anyways, "What brings you to Orynth?"   

 "A wedding," he said simply. "You?"  

  She laughed lightly. "I'm actually going to a wedding too." Though she was sure it wasn't the same one. Orynth was huge, and she was sure she would remember if Aelin or Rowan had mentioned a huge, muscled, grumpy wumpy guy. "You're from the Wastes, then?"  

  "Doranelle, actually." His answer was short, clipped, and she assumed that meant the end of their conversation, but then he spoke again. "Is that where you're from, then? The Wastes?"   

 She shook her head. "Perranth. I'm just going for the wedding before it's time to go back home." Aedion would drive her there, most likely. Her car was home anyways, and her ankle made it hard for her to drive long distances.   

 He gave her another one of his dry smiles, just a faint twitching of his lips. "You travel a lot, then?"   

 She shrugged. "When I feel like it." The plane had leveled out, and she felt herself relaxing. She should dismiss him, should get back to her book. They'd passed through the 'polite small talk' stage, and now were bordering on actually chatting. She had enough people in her life, and, frankly, the only men she trusted were Rowan and Aedion, possibly Dorian. But after this, she'd never see Lorcan again. And what was the harm in chatting up the hot stranger? So she asked him, "You said you were ex military. What do you do now?" He opened his mouth to speak, and the book stayed forgotten in her lap. -  

  They talked for almost half of the trip. Lorcan found it surprising- he'd only meant to say a few polite words, make sure she was okay. She was obviously young-early twenties, he later found out- and he, frankly, hadn't wanted her to puke everywhere or something. But no, Marion just HAD to be interesting and intelligent, and instead of resting up to meet rutting Whitethorn and the bitch queen like he should have, he had talked to her.    

 They had kept the conversation light- Lorcan only mentioned Maeve, his ex boss (that he may have been in love with for a time) once, and she only briefly mentioned a crazy uncle. They didn't talk about any family, either. Instead they spoke of her bookstore, of what they'd both been doing, of movie genres and that blue book in her lap, along with the others stuffed into her purse. They spoke of music-she liked classical and alternative, he was more of a classic rock and anything angry type of guy- and culture, any light conversation topics they could think of.  

  She fell asleep first, and he found himself studying her face, though he didn't go any lower (even if her breasts were tempting.) It was obvious she was attractive and most definitely his type- dark hair and eyes, pale skin- but she didn't seem the type for one night trysts, so he wouldn't ask. He fell asleep soon after that, and woke up with a weight on his shoulder.    

He tensed when he saw her nuzzled there, eyes still closed, inky hair spilled across his shoulder. The pilot announced they'd be landing soon and he tapped her awake gently. Her eyes opened and she practically jumped away from him. He gave her a look, to which she responded with another sheepish smile. "Sorry."

  "Don't worry about it." He looked down the aisle. "We're landing soon." She groaned. "Don't like landing either?"  

  "It's possibly worse." There was a lurch, and this time, when she gripped his arm, he let her. -     

They walked off together, picking up a new conversation that she was more adamant about then him- cats or dogs. She insisted dogs were better- Manon, her best friend, had a pet Doberman named Abraxos and he was apparently the sweetest thing ever. He listened in amusement, but as soon as they both got out of the gate, they froze. Marion turned to him.   

 "So," she said. "This is it, I guess."  

  He nodded, stone faced. "Thanks for making the plane ride... less droll than it could have been."   

 She snorted, tucked a piece of hair behind an ear. "You helped as well, I suppose," she said, and he almost started in confusion. People tended not to tease him, but that seemed to be what she was doing.   

 He hesitated for a moment, studying her. Should he offer her his number? Should he ask for hers? Ridiculous- he was ridiculous. So he simply said, "Have fun at the wedding," and turned. He didn't look back to see if she watched him go. 

[propshophannah]

I see so much sjm hate (or 'constructive criticism') lately and my passion for ToG is really shaken. Do you mind making a list about the good things in ToG? Thanks so much. xoxo

Well let's see... Abraxos. Abraxos. Abraxos. Manon Blackbeak. Manon Crochan. Dorian Havilliard. Manorian. Asterin Blackbeak. Chaol Westfall. Chaol saving Manon. Asterin being defiant as fuck because she loves her cousin Manon and recognizes her as her family. Manon letting Elide choose her racial identity "Do you bleed red or blue?" Uuum. Manon flipping out and seeing Iskra as the Matron (and Abraxos as her) when Iskra whips Abraxos—Manon doesn't want to kill her she just wants to hurt her (just like the Matron has been hurting Manon all these years). Abraxos. Platonic male love and hugging and tears—cuz straight men can hug and cry and tell their friends they love them and it should be normal. Abraxos flirting with Asterin's wyvern. All the ambiguity surrounding Dorian's dad (sorry, I'm a sucker for that shit. IS was VERY unclear whether he was honestly trying to help Dorian, or just trying to save his own ass. But his actions throughout the series—especially in QoS—have been SOOO ambiguous. Ugh.).... um um um.... Nehemiah and Celaena talking in Ellewye in front of everyone because they could. Nehemiah and Celaena's friendship and sisterly love. Chaol's very real fear of bleeding vaginas. Abraxos. Fenrys curling his hair around one of his fingers. Fenrys deciding Aelin is his queen within the first 15 minutes of them meeting. "Where is my son?" Because, angst. Elide kickin ass and taking names even though she's "cripple" and "illiterate" and "too small" and "too malnourished" and all the other things people see when they look at her and don't see her. Manorian. ABRAXOS.

[magicinthelibrary-blog]

Heir of Fire Re-read

Today we are re-reading Heir of Fire by Sarah J. Maas. If you are re-reading the Throne of Glass series in preparation of the release of Empire of Storms, stop by and see what we have to say about one of our favorite series!

Seelie’s Review

Oh. My. Goodness. If you’ve been reading my other reviews so far, you’ll know that, while I liked the first two books, I wasn’t enthralled by them. They are good and, for the sake of seeing where this book goes and how the characters react, I’ll keep reading, sure. But then we get to Heir of Fire and all bets are off. I can’t put this book down. I even want to go back and read it again. I just finished it. Its absurd how badly I want to rewind and re-read it. Now I can see why Flora skipped the first two and just went straight to re-reading this one.

Its not the first time I’ve read Heir of Fire and, yes, I remember being unable to put the book down the first time as well. Its just that time passes and you forget sometimes just how much you enjoyed reading a certain book. Especially when you read as many books as we do.

Heir of Fire is wonderful. For the first time since starting the series, when I get to this book, I actually can’t wait to see what happens next. The first time I read the book, I THOUGHT that what drove me to read it so quickly was because I wanted to get to the part where Celaena(Aelin in this book) is reunited with her friends/lover in Rifthold. Of course, she never is in Heir of Fire and by the time we get to Queen of Shadows and see the reunion, it’s so disappointing that I think I just wiped out the memory of all the enjoyment I got from Heir of Fire and just sank into a pit of despair.

The second time around I was able to read through it with a clear head, knowing what happens when she returns to Rifthold, I paid more attention to the events in Heir of Fire that lead to her strained relationships in the fourth book. When I accepted the fate of Celaena and Chaol and accepted what was between Aelin and Rowan, I was a much happier reader. And while we’re on the subject of Rowan, he’s definitely grown on me in the second read of this book. I’d go so far as to say he’s my second favorite. He can’t take Aedion’s place. It just won’t happen!

Flora says below that she didn’t like the parts with Chaol in this book because he’s so frustrating and he’s kind of a jerk. I think he is exactly who Aedion and Dorian call him out as, though. He just doesn’t know who he is yet, a lot like Aelin/Celaena. I think this book is a book of discovery. Aelin discovers who she is and who she wants to be and she isn’t always someone you like, but she’s getting there and figuring it out. It’s the same thing with Chaol. He isn’t always someone we like, but he’s TRYING to be the person who is worthy of the friendships he’s forged in this tale. You have to give him credit, it takes him awhile to get there, but he figures out whose side he wants to be on. Even if he is a jerk in the next book…lol

I don’t care of the parts with the Manon and the Ironteeth witches. At least, not in this book. I don’t hate it, but I agree with Flora, in that I spent a lot of time wondering the relevancy of this side story and why it interrupted my Aelin/Rowan time! That being said, I find their story to be more compelling in the next book.

I haven’t re-read Queen of Shadows yet, so I can’t say for sure. But I think Heir of Fire might be my favorite. I’ll let you know next week when I finish Queen of Shadows. And then, of course, Empire of Storm could totally be a game changer, so…I get to change my mind at least twice within the next few weeks… *grins*

Flora’s Review

Hello everyone, its Flora here. I hope you all have been enjoying our re-read of the Throne of Glass series, by the wonderful Sarah J. Maas. I know I’m a little late to the party but I decided to hand over the reins to Seelie for the first two books in the series since I’ve honestly read them more times than I can count.

We’re now at the third book in the series, Heir of Fire, which is one of my favorites. Mainly because of the introduction of Prince Rowan (swoon). More on him later. This book is much slower paced and has a lot less action than the previous books.

Celaena still breaks my heart every time I read this book. She is full of guilt, sorrow and loneliness, all while trying to come to terms with her Fae side. She spends most of the book in Wendlyn training with Rowan in order to learn how to shift into her Fae form and master her powers.

I love how many new, main characters are introduced in this book. There’s of course Rowan and then Celaena/Aelin’s cousin Aedion. Both of whom are two of my favorite characters in the entire series. Then an entire side story comes in with the introduction of the Ironteeth Witches, mainly Manon Blackbeak and her Thirteen warriors. At first, I was thinking, who are these characters? Why do I care and when will it go back to the main story? Now I really enjoy the scenes with the Witches, especially Manon and her wyvern, Abraxos. Although, I have to admit I picture Toothless from How to Train your Dragon, the entire time.

Celaena grows exponentially in this book and becomes a true Fae warrior bad ass! Rowan really grows on me more and more every time I read this book. He too, is dealing with a lot of loss and guilt and their friendship is very slow building and believable the more I read it. I think they are exactly what each other needed at that point in time to help them start to heal from the past and start becoming who they were destined to be

Then there’s Chaol. He’s just goes more and more downhill in this book. I’m actually glad he doesn’t get a ton of page time because I just want to slap him. He does try to do the right thing at some points but his internal monologue shows the bitter person he’s become. Boo Chaol.

For those of you who have read the series, you know that this is an unfortunate foreshadowing of things to come with Chaol. That makes the next book, Queen of Shadows, both my favorite and least favorite at the same time. I’ll be re-reading that one next and posting my review shortly after. I can’t WAIT for Empire of Storms!

[elrielllll]

“Perfect” part 1

so, I’m relatively new here and I’m loving all the fics, especially elriel (they are so pure) and i’m bored in quarantine so i thought i’d have a go at writing my own! whelp here we go.

Also massive thank you to my amazing best friend Ems, (tags still not working sorry hun) for helping me when I was freaking out

“Au Revoir miss!”

“bon journée!”

Elain smiled as all her students ran to to door in a rush, shouting good byes as they left. She stood holding the door open, wishing she could run after them.

“Oh Rory don’t forget your bag” Elain said as she saw the tiny kid with glasses hanging off his face, He looked back and grabbed it looking grateful.

“Merci miss bye” he shouted as he ran past

Elain laughed, “de rien, à bientôt Rory” still chuckling as she shut the door and rested her head against it. God she loved those kids but they were a handful.

With a sigh she moved across the room straightening desks and chairs, picking up lose bits of paper and pen lids and looked at the clock.

Two more hours, a department meeting,get on top of a few lesson plans then she could head home to pizza and wine. She hoped. If there wasn’t some staff emergency or some protcall practice or a safe guarding issue where she would have to see all of the teachers in a hall. Even the maths department. Even Grayson.

It was great at first, being with him. Great, all the teachers loved it and some of the students even clocked it and were massive “shippers” whatever that meant, until it wasn’t great. And he got mean. And nasty. And spiteful. 

It went on for too long before Elain decided to put a stop to it, much too long.

She started shoving books and papers into her bag, wishing she’d joined Cassian at the gym sometimes, needing superhuman arm strength to carry them to her car. 

“Hellooo”

Elain jerked up to see Feyre stood at the door, apron on, hair tied up with a pencil, paint on her face. Typical art teacher as per usual. “You good?” Feyre asked, tilting her head

“Yep, yeah all all good” she replied, standing up with a smile.

 “Fabulous, so” and just as Feyre was about to launch into another story about some amazing artwork or terrible artwork or funny artwork or artistic artwork or something the voice rang out over the speaker

“All teachers to the hall for a meeting all teachers to the hall for a meeting thank you”

Brilliant. “Come on” Feyre said standing up “ let’s move”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes”

“Really have to?”

“yes” Feyre said tapping her foot

“on a scale of 1 to 10-”

“Yes come on” Feyre groaned as she dragged Elain to her feet and pulling her by her arm to the door and probably to the rest of the way to the hall. Luckily the language block was at the other end of the school so if she just walked slowly-

“Come on Elain or I swear I will pick you up and carry you myself.”

Elain grumbled but walked arm in arm with her sister. “You know Rhys was saying how the school wants a new sports hall built so it’s probably about that, maybe funding or cuts”

That’s just what they needed, another bloody sports hall and less resources for languages. It’s always languages.

Feyre carried on “ I think Rhys’ brother’s company is building it, it’s the easiest one on short notice plus they’re really good’

“I thought Azriel was out of town” Elain wondered, still dreading this meeting.

“He has been, I think he had some work in London but it’s finished and he’s back up North, don’t know how he dealt with those southerners” Feyre shuddered.

“Hmm” Elain agreed. Feyre and Rhys started dating around 5 months ago, he was the head of the directors for the school so it was all very hush hush but when Feyre finally told her, she had met Rhys and Feyre’s new family straight away. It was just after she had left Grayson so she was sure she didn’t make the best impression with all the useless wallowing and whatnot but they all seemed nice enough, Mor, stunning, lovely and scary. Cassain, big loud and scary. Amren, small and scary. And Rhys, nice and posh and well spoken scary.

Elain remembers when she didn’t find the prospect of new people so daunting, but that was before she learned just how scary people could be.

She’d heard all about this mysterious Azriel, apparently the only sane one according to Mor, but hadn’t thought much of it or him, probably more focused on trying to figure out how to mark 300ish papers in a day.

Crap. Speaking of papers she had her Year 10s to mark tonight, it was their first mock for their exams and she had them tomorrow. Oh shit she had so much work to do without those papers to mark, oh for-  

Elain felt a sharp kick on her ankle and glared at Feyre who apparently was too busy making heart eyes at Rhys across the hall to notice. Elain looked across the room, not wanted to see more people in love than she had to. Honestly her students were bad enough. 

She wasn’t looking for him, she never was, he just always seemed to be there. In the corridor, staff room, field. she couldn’t get away from him. Sure enough he was there. Coffee in hand and completely oblivious to her. 

Story of her life. 

Elain closed her eyes, clearly the only safe option and forced herself to listen to the slimy head teacher.

 “...due to the new sports hall being built by the Velaris building company...”

“now let me introduce you to the head of this operation, Azriel”

A man, Azriel she guessed, stepped out of the shadows with a nod to the people before him. Hazel eyes scanning the room, hand resting in his pockets emphasising his arms and the tattoos that decorated them. 

Elain had never found tattoos attractive before. 

He swallowed, throat bobbing as he ran his hand through his unkempt hair.

As he scanned the room those eyes locked with hers for just a second before moving on and her breath caught in her throat. 

Ça alors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter

Masterlist

okay well tell me how bad it was and if you want to keep reading be warned that there will be many and I mean MANY cheesy tropes. But don’t we love it?

Also part two will either be up later today or tomorrow :)

Bisous x

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@stars-falling​ @cirieael​ @abraxos-is-toothless​ @suppengott @candid-confetti​ @nite0wl29​ @tyheronthorn​

[elrielllll]

“Perfect” part 2

A/N: Well, here we go again- Not a big fan of this one but it gets better after this one! Also thank you for all your lovely comments! x

Azriel stepped forwards and swallowed, “Hello, I’m Azriel, I’m one of the builders  on the sports hall on the person you should come to if you have any questions or concerns. we’ve decided that the best place to build will be outside the language block and we would like to get started tomorrow. I’ll be on site every day so come and find me if you have any questions. I’ll be sending out an email later tonight about the details of the changed taking place.” He gave a tight smile and nodded again, stepping back to let the Headteacher dismiss everyone.

Elain wasn’t listening. She had made the mistake of allowing her eyes flick back and forth to Grayson until the room was spinning. With every glance the memories forced themselves to the front of her mind until she was surrounded.

She stood up on shaky legs and braced herself on the chair in front. One minute she was fine and the next-

She didn’t even know.

Well, she did.

“I’m going to see Rhys and Az do you want to come I can introduce you?” Feyre asked,  pulling Elain out of her spiral and already moving towards them.

Elain shook her head, “no its okay I have a lot to do but I’ll catch up with you later”

“alright see you tomorrow!” Feyre shouted over her shoulder and over the buzz of people leaving.

Elain didn’t hear, she was trying to push through the people to the door muttering a weak “excuse me” every now and then, cursing her height.

In her rush to leave and just get outside, she ran smack bang into someone’s chest. The person reached out a hand to steady her,

“whoa Ellie are you okay?” Lucien asked, then he took one look down at her face.

“alright, excuse me thank you” he said as he tucked her into his side and pulled her with him through the crowd. Once they were out he didn’t let her go, walking her down to her classroom and shutting the door behind them.

Elain sank down onto the nearest chair but she still couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe-

“Its alright, you’re alright” Lucien said as he crouched down in front of her, taking her hands in his own. “just breathe with me Ellie, estoy aqui”

He took deep breaths, 10 seconds in through his nose and 10 seconds out through his mouth. Elain copied, calming down enough to whisper a small

“I’m sorry”

“don’t be,” Lucien shook his head, “ can you get up?”

Elain nodded still looking down,willing her legs to work “yeah. Yes. I can”

Thank god she had Lucien, he knew the best way to handle whatever this was, is to move on like it never happened. It was always best like that.

“okay good,” Lucien said, pulling her up, “I need help packing up some books come on” he turned towards his classroom next door with Elain following after taking one last deep breath.

As they were packing he asked “ do you want to tell me what happened?”

Elain shook her head.

No. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not ever. It’s easier that way, not getting other people involved. She hadn’t even told her sisters about the panic attacks or anxiety or whatever it was. Partly because she didn’t want to worry them, partly because it was too much effort.

And also because she didn’t want to give them a reason to see her as weaker than they already did, than she already was. She felt small.

Grayson was good at that. Making people feel small. And although the bruises had gone the words that had accompanied them still remained. Haunting her. And she hated it. She hated herself for giving him that power over over. Hated that she still let him have that power over her. Hated that she couldn’t get it- him- out of her head.

And she hated that she didn’t know how to fix it.

“ I can’t believe that we’re going to have to deal with the noise, trust it to be us, but honestly it will be a miracle if its louder than my class.” Lucien complained, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Elain smiled, Lucien was a Spanish teacher, and Spanish classes were notorious for being rowdy, especially Lucien’s. She was grateful for the peace that came with teaching French, she could barely cope hearing it next door.

“I personally think that its all to do with the teacher” Elain mused when she felt a book hit the back of her head. She turned around, hand flying to the back of her head “hey what was that for?!” she asked, eyes wide.

Lucien aimed another book at her, “criticise my teaching style again, I dare you”

“I though throwing things at people was your teaching style” Elain teased

She dodged the next book

“proving my point!” she laughed    

He shook his head, “just this time Archeron”

She smiled, thinking of all the book and pencil and glue stick wars that they’ve had in this room, one ending in a dislocated shoulder on Lucien's part when he tried to commando roll over a table James bond style, and Elain spending all evening washing glue out of her hair.

She was still smiling thinking of Lucien. They had been best friends since she had begun working at the school, being the two youngest teachers there, before all the ~older~ teachers retired and new teachers flowed in,they had hit it off straight away. It was love at first sight when Lucien swore in Spanish at one of the kids that was messing around.

It was brilliant. Having someone to say exactly what she was thinking.

Because she was thinking the same thing.

She was still smiling on the drive home, thinking of all the fun they and the kids had messing with the scared newbies.  

But that evening she wasn’t washing glue out of her hair.

She dropped her bag by the door and headed into her room. Sweatpants and a hoodie felt like heaven as she grabbed her long awaited bottle of wine and left over pizza and put them on the coffee table in front of the couch.  

She sighed as she turned back to the door where she left her bags full of books and exams. It was going to be a long night

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter 

Masterlist

Part three will be up within the next half an hour and I swear they’ll meet ;)

Also feel free to drop me any prompts- I’m in a writing mood :) 

Bisous x

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