#Crochan Witch Queen
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acourtofquestions · 6 months ago
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credit: @hachandraws
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rainingriversofyou · 7 months ago
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Dorian, Manon & Abraxos - TOG 🩶 Artist: andieburky
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i-only-see-daylight · 10 months ago
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Dorian: What are you doing on the castle wall at 3am?
Manon: I could ask you the same question.
Dorian: I live here. This is my house.
Manon: I should probably ask you a different question.
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wishfulimaginings · 8 months ago
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In this time of toxicity from the Acotar fandom, I give you a palette cleanser. Here's some beautiful manorian art by some insanely talented artists (links to their Instagram post below the pics)
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Art by @snowarox ,Instagram post here
The way they're holding on so tightly makes me 😭
{- Had to remove the second photo , but do go check it out here on tumblr -}
And this hot piece from that scene by @spearthymint on instagram here
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bombitart · 8 months ago
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Manon Blackbeak from “Throne of glass” by Sarah J Maas.
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oh-my-wolfstar · 2 months ago
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mother maiden crone indeed
spoilers for tog, acotar, and cc (mostly cc)
OK, I was today years old when I learned that the three faced goddess from throne of glass is a real neopagan deity. This deity is also referred to as mother, maiden, crone, and has the same waning, full, and waxing moon symbols. But there’s more. This goddess belongs to a whole group of goddesses referred to as mother goddesses…
Even further, this goddess is far from the only triple goddess in this world. Another one to note is made up of three women who control one element of our world, the fates in Greek mythology. They are referred to the spinner, the Weaver, and the cutter. Beginning of life, middle/prime of life, end of life. The same as the three faced Goddess. And the Weaver, sounds awfully familiar.
And one step further, another group of triple goddesses is Selene, Diana or Artemis, and Hecate. Now this should sound familiar if you read crescent city. Selene, of course, is an ancestor of Bryce and Queen Thea’s daughter. She is the beginning of our CC story. Then there is Hecate, she is the witch queen who dies at the beginning of HOEAB.
Now there is no goddess in the CC series called Artemis or Diana, but there is one that seems to be heavily modeled after her, one called Luna. And whose horn is the catalyst of Crescent city? the catalyst of these entire three worlds colliding? Luna’s…
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zoyaofthegardvn · 2 years ago
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The Queen's Maidservant
Manon Blackbeak x reader
CW: Smut! 18+ pleaseee
In which Manon requests for you, a maidservant, to assist her during a bath :)
You stand hesitant outside of your Queen's bathing chamber, head lowered, hand ready to knock. Asterin, the Second in Command to the Witch Queen, had fetched you from where you had been working in the kitchens. The girls you had been working with, laughing with, all giggled and mocked you with cries of "Ooooo's" when they'd heard that the Queen had specifically requested that you be at her service this evening.
They guessed that you were in some sort of trouble. The Queen rarely calls on servants and maids, being too independent, too private to desire any assistance. Instead, you and most of the servants were free to roam the castle, the lands, as you pleased, so long as some work got done.
When Manon Blackbeak had been crowned the Witch Queen, everyone had been nervous, at first. But she'd made the Witchlands a place to thrive, and be happy. That didn't mean that Manon was any less terrifying, though.
You had swatted at your girl friends with a wet rag, giving them a stern look for antagonizing you in front of the Second in Command, who you surely thought would deem the lot of you as immature. But Asterin just huffed a laugh, then left, knowing you were going to listen.
As you made your way to the Queen's wing of the castle, you racked your brain, wondering what you possibly could have done wrong. You had served the Queen before, many times, actually, more than anyone else. Bringing her food, mending the saddle she used for her mount, Abraxos. Sometimes, the Queen would send you to deliver a letter to another part of the castle. Or, she'd send you to find a book for her in the library. Once, she even had you choose what poor, unlucky man was going to be her meal for the evening.
She wasn't unkind to you. Impatient, curt, bossy, yes. But never unkind. You had certainly done more tasks for her than any of the other maidservants. You wondered if you had somehow, unknowingly, broken the sliver of trust the Queen seemed to have in you.
When you arrived at the door to her bedroom, you had knocked softly with a call of "My Queen?" When you didn't receive a response, you had gently pushed open the door that had been cracked open. She wasn't anywhere to be seen, until you noticed the soft light from underneath the door to the bathing room.
Your stomach tightened at that, thinking, surely she does not intend for me to assist her in the bath? There must have been a mistake, perhaps she needed me later this evening and Asterin had misheard.
And so now, here you are, at the door to where you know the Queen awaits you. You struggle with wanting to serve the Queen, and with wanting to respect her privacy. With curiosity about what she wants from you, and fear that you have done something to offend her.
Taking a deep breath in, you finally decide to knock. Just as you pull your hand back, prepared to lower it on the door, you hear a voice call out, "I know you're out there, Y/N. Do come in."
Your heart is hammering now. Of course she knew you had been standing outside the door, she'd probably caught your scent when you were halfway down the hallway.
Clearing your throat, you grasp the doorknob, twisting and pushing in. You briefly spot Manon's head resting on the back edge of her huge, clawfoot tub. Her eyes appeared to be closed, and you could see faint steam radiating from the tub before you dropped your head, lowered your gaze.
"M-My Queen, how may I assist you this evening?" You internally scolded yourself for stammering, not wanting to know how awkward you feel, being in the same room as the bathing Queen.
Manon releases a humming sound, and you can hear the water slosh as she moves around a bit, picking her head up from where she was resting.
"Why so formal, maidservant?" She sounds like she's teasing.
You grow flustered, confused. "I... My Queen... I do not mean any offense, and I do not wish to invade your privacy. I was fetched by your Second, she said you requested my services...?"
Manon gives a short, quick laugh. "I know why you're here."
When you don't respond right away, Manon grows impatient. "Look at me when I speak to you."
Your stomach drops, face growing hot and red. Finally, you lift your head. Manon is staring straight at you. Her white hair is wet, a few strands sticking to her face and neck. You can see her collarbones, glistening from the steam. But thankfully, the rest of her body is obscured not only by the side of the tub, by what you can tell is... bubbles. You hadn't expected to find the Witch Queen taking a bubble bath, but you suppose it does not matter if she is not going to allow you to leave this room alive.
"My apologies, my Queen. I did not wish to make you uncomfortable." You're sincere when you say this, not knowing what limits the Queen has with her servants.
One of Manon's hands, which is resting on the edge of the tub, begins to extend its claws. They're not at their full length, just slightly pointed. She clicks them against the porcelain, eyes trailing up and down your body.
"I've called you here so that you may assist me with my bath." Her voice is sharp, husky.
You try to resist the urge to screw your face in confusion, but your eyebrows furrow slightly, and you cannot help but say, "Why?"
Manon arches a pale brow, her jaw tightens. Before she can speak, you immediately attempt to counteract the damage you've done. "I-I mean, my Queen, you have not required assistance with a bath before," Manon's face doesn't look any less displeased, and so you continue, "And there isn't anything wrong with assistance, my Queen..." again, Manon just stares. "I just wonder if... you're alright. Or... why you requested that I assist you...?" Your voice trails off at the end, and you bite your lip in anticipation, expecting her to lash out at you for your insolence.
"Do you believe yourself to be in any position to question me?" Manon asks.
You swallow hard, eyes yet again returning to the ground. "No, my Queen. I am so, so sorry. I will assist you in any way you wish."
Manon does not answer for a moment, leading you to lift your head slightly, to see if she's preparing to strike. She hasn't moved from her spot, still staring at where you stand.
Finally, Manon gives one quick nod. "You cannot assist with my bath from over there, can you?"
You shake your head, "No, my Queen," stepping forward a few paces, until you're within arm's length of the tub, you ask, "Where would you like me to begin, my Queen?"
She scoffs, settling back into the tub. "I think you know what a bath entails, and stop saying 'my Queen.' I get so sick of it."
"Y-Yes, my Q-," you stop yourself before you can finish. "I mean, yes of course. My apologies."
You take just a few more steps forward, until you are standing at the edge of the tub, looking down at the Queen. Your cheeks flush red at what you can see of her body, though most is obscured by the bubbles. You can see the tops of her breast, just the very top edge of her pink nipples. Her knees are bent, her soft legs exposed, shining from the water. She's got her head resting back on the tub, a washcloth used as a cushion. Her eyes are closed, and she looks alarmingly relaxed and peaceful. You know that she's a predator, one of the most feared, but you can't help but note how vulnerable she appears.
You lower yourself onto your knees, a bit hesitant to reach out and touch her. You dip a hand into the water, testing the warmth. It is quite hot, warmer than you would make your own bath, but not unbearable.
"Shall I start with your hair...?" You speak so quietly, unwilling to disrupt the calm in the room.
Manon gives a grunt of approval, sitting up and moving forward to allow you access to her moonlit strands.
When she sits up straight, her breasts are nearly entirely exposed. You suck in a sharp breath of air, diverting your eyes elsewhere. Her breasts are full and perky, nipples soft and pretty. They glisten from the wet, stray bubbles clinging on.
After a moment of composing yourself, attempting to tame the fire in your belly, you reach a shaky hand to her long hair sticking to her back. You're sure to keep your eyes on the back of her head, resisting the urge to peer over her shoulder.
Her hair is thick and soft, and when you reach both hands forward to pull it all back from her face, you swear you hear Manon hum in content.
Grabbing the shampoo from a glass jar on a small table nearby, you dump a small amount in the palm of your hand before returning your touch to her hair. You start at her scalp, working the soap into her roots. Using your nails, you give gentle scratches to her head, starting at her temples, working until you're at the base of her neck. She bends her head forward a bit to give better access, and you move the suds down the rest of the length, hands brushing against the skin of her back.
When you're satisfied with the cleanliness, you softly ask, "Will you lean your head back, my Q-," you stop yourself before you can disobey her order, "You will you lean back, so that I can rinse?"
Manon chooses to not address your almost slip up, instead, scooting forward even more, her eyes still closed. She grasps the sides of the tub, then lays backwards until nearly her entire head is submerged. The water line dances around her face, her cheeks a bit flushed from the warmth.
At her actions, though, her entire chest has become exposed. At the sight of her breasts, you feel your stomach tighten, your arousal begin to grow. You have always found the Queen beautiful, have always been attracted to her. You never imagined you'd see this much of her.
You shake your head, fearing you have stared too long, that she'll notice where your gaze has fallen. You cup some of the warm water in your hands, careful to avoid the bubbles, and bring it to the top of her hairline. Once the top of her hair is thoroughly cleaned of shampoo, you run your hands through the hair submerged in the water. Manon's eyes flutter throughout the process, but they do not open.
Finally, when you're satisfied, you pull your hands away, eyes falling to her breasts again briefly before you clear your throat and tell her she can sit up now.
This time, when she moves, she does open her eyes. The water sloshes as she sits up, and she turns to face you.
"Is my naked body distracting you, Y/N?"
You feel stunned, caught and scared. 'I-I.. no, not at all. No, I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I ju-"
Manon cuts you off with a roll of her eyes, clicking her tongue. "Relax, maidservant. I'm not going to kill you for seeing something you clearly desire."
Your heart is pounding, eyes are wide. You sound terrified when you ask, "What?"
Manon just smirks at you, a wicked glint in her eyes. "Continue with the bath." She closes her eyes again, turning her head forward.
You feel confused, and nervous. Unsure of what exactly just happened. But of course, you do what the Queen says.
Reaching for the conditioner, you repeat the process you followed with the shampoo. Except this time, you're more conscious of where your eyes fall. When the conditioner is fully worked in, you pick her hair up, resting it on her shoulder so that it may sit, and not wash away in the water.
At this point, most of the bubbles have dissolved. Her body is nearly entirely exposed and you're struggling to not let your thoughts turn lewd, inappropriate.
"Shall we let that sit? I can return in a few moments, to wash it out." You ask her, already rising to your feet.
Manon grips your wrist where your hand rests on the side of the tub, preventing you from standing. "And what of my body? Do you not wash your own while your conditioner sits?" Her jaw is clenched, an eyebrow raised.
"Y-Yes of course, I just thought that you may want to do that part yourself."
She looks properly angry now, and her tone is tense when she speaks. "I called you here to assist with a bath, I thought you were entirely competent. But, perhaps I was wrong..."
Your heart sinks at her words, you feel mortified and desperate to make it right. Terrified that the Queen will see you unfit for duty, that she'll banish you from the castle, from work and your friends, you scramble to say, "No, of course not. My apologies, it won't happen again. We'll wash your body."
Manon gives you a sharp nod, and you know that this is it, you cannot mess up again.
You settle back onto your knees, leaning to grab a washcloth and the lavender scented bar of soap. You wet and lather the rag slowly, putting the soap back on the table before turning back to Manon.
You raise the washcloth to her back, rubbing gently in small circles. You bring the suds up to her shoulders, the back of her neck, before running it downwards. To your surprise, she releases a small groan.
"Are you alright, my Queen?" Your voice is quiet, and shaky.
Manon doesn't acknowledge the title, only saying, "I'm fine. Just sore, you try riding a beast for nearly three days straight."
You smile a bit, knowing how much she adores her Abraxos. "It seems very taxing, I'm sure a hot bath feels nice, then."
Manon just hums, her muscles becoming visibly more relaxed.
You continue with her back, your hand had momentarily paused its movements. When you reach the waterline, though, you still.
Manon can feel where you've stopped, and so she rises to her knees, allowing you to wash the rest of her.
You take a deep breath in, eyes settling on her backside. She's slim and muscular, her ass firm and round. The water drips down her back, running across her cheeks. You want to lean in and lick it from her.
You reel your thoughts back in, attempting to concentrate. You trail the washcloth further down, coating her in lavender smelling suds. When you finish, you get to work on her arms. You start at her shoulders, working down to her hands. Once satisfied, you know that the next step is to wash her front.
You bring a hand up to rest gently on the back of her waist, signaling that you're moving on now. She turns a bit, and you meet her halfway.
It's nearly impossible to not get distracted by her chest, her toned stomach, the hint of abs. But you manage to keep your eyes on her collarbones as you bring the washcloth up, running over her chest. The water and soap drips down, the lavender smell almost too good to resist leaning in.
You work down, working the soap over her chest gently. Her breasts bounce a bit as you clean them, her nipples harden when you trace the washcloth over them. You can't help but wonder how'd they'd feel in your hand.
You imagine how soft they'd feel, how they'd spill over your cupped hands because they're so full and plush. You imagine how beautiful she'd look with red and purple marks coating her pale skin, how she'd look with her chest heaving while you sat on top of her. How'd they look swaying in your face as she rode you.
You push the thoughts from your head, working the cloth down to the underneaths of her breasts, then down her stomach. You swallow hard when you reach her thighs, the water and soap clinging to the patch of white hair at her core. You run the cloth over it quickly, gently.
Finally, you pull away, looking back up at her face. She's staring at you intently, the corners of her mouth threatening to turn into a smile.
"You may sit back now, and bring your legs up if you'd like me to wash them, too." You say to her, knowing the redness of your face is obvious, the cause of it, too.
She sits back down in the tub, leaning against the back to raise one of her legs in the air. You start at her foot, working the cloth in circular motions on the bottom of it, then the top, then her ankle. You run the cloth up her smooth calf, the bottoms of her thigh that isn't under the water. When you finish, you push her leg down gently, signaling that it's time for the other one.
When the entire process is finished, you note that the water has begun to grow cold. "Let's wash your hair out quickly now, I don't want you to have to have a cold bath."
Manon gives a soft "Hmm" in agreement, sitting forward so that you can wash her hair.
You try and work quickly, but her hair is so long and thick. When her hair finally feels void of conditioner and soap, you stand up. Reaching for the drain, you pull it up and allow the water to begin to escape.
You can feel Manon's eyes tracking every move you make, and you work hard to not look at her, knowing your eyes will stray.
"I will grab you a towel, shall I also find you a nightgown to wear, my Queen?"
"The gown won't be necessary." Her voice is husky, and you shiver a bit at the thought that Manon prefers to sleep naked.
You nod politely, and scurry off to the chest of drawers in the bathroom. While finding a large towel, you hear what's left of the water splash as Manon steps out of the tub.
As you settle on one soft to give her, you recognize the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. Her bare feet are padding the hard ground softly, audibly dripping wet.
You finally turn to face her, towel clutched in your hands. She's looking directly in your eyes and it's difficult not to flinch under her gaze.
She nods to the towel in your arms, "Well, are you going to dry me?"
You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding your head rapidly. There isn't much distance between the two of you now, but you take the rest of the steps required to close it.
Shaking hands reach out, placing the towel on top of one of her shoulders. She watches you closely, and you keep your eyes trained on her body as you move the towel down, collecting the water droplets. You do the same to the other arm, then you bring the towel to her chest.
As you rub the towel into her skin, you can't stop the desire in your gut from forming as you feel her breasts through the towel. Working your way down, your mouth almost waters at the sight of her cunt and her strong thighs.
You're breathing hard by the time you step around her, drying her back and her ass, too. Her hair is heavy and wet, and when you're done, you wrap the towel around her hair and squeeze, ridding it of the access moisture weighing it down.
When done, you take a step back, admiring her backside for one more second before you bring your eyes back up. "All done, would you like me to clean up the bathroom before I take my leave?" She had dripped a fair amount of water onto the ground as she had approached you.
Manon turns to face you and furrows her brows in confusion. "Leave? Why would you leave? I am still wet, maidservant."
Now, it's your turn to look confused. "I'm sorry, my Queen, but I'm not sure what you mean..."
Manon steps impossibly closer, the two of you nearly chest to chest. She's a head taller than you, so you crane your neck to look up at her. The towel drops from your hands at the sudden proximity, and you wonder if you've done something to really upset her.
Manon moves faster than lightning, her hand darting out to grasp your wrist. You gasp at the suddenness, wondering what she plans to do.
Her grip is tight as she pulls your hand closer to her body, lowering it until your fingers are brushing through the white hair on her cunt, until they're making contact with her wet heat.
"I said, 'I'm still wet, maidservant.' What are you going to do about it?"
Your heart is hammering, wetness immediately beginning to gather between your thighs. Your chest is heaving from where you're breathing heavily, and your hands are trembling. "M-My Queen, I'm so confu-"
Before you can finish your sentence, Manon is surging forward and kissing you passionately. You don't move for a second, too shocked to react. But she's pushing you back until you hit the wall, never releasing your lips from her own.
After a moment, you let your desire take over. Though still muddled with confusion, you close your eyes and give in to the kiss.
It's hot and feverish, desperate and uncontrolled. She's released your hand so that her own can grip your face, and she's pressing her body into yours.
Her tongue begins working at the seams of your lips, and you open them so that your tongue can dance with hers.
She pulls back for a second, letting both of you catch your breath. "Are you still confused?"
"Yes, entirely," Manon laughs at your statement, at the fierce red blush of your cheeks and the confusion in your eyes, "Are you sure that you want... this? To do this with me?"
Manon smirks before speaking, her eyes flitting down to your lips before looking back up at you. "I've found you attractive for a long time, and I see you stealing glances at me when you think I don't notice. Why should we not?"
Your mouth gapes open in shock, unable to form a sentence, you just stutter and make a fool of yourself. The Witch Queen desires... me?
Manon doesn't need a response, though. She knows that you want this.
Her lips attach to yours once again, and she bites on your lip before making her way down. Her lips trail across your jaw, to just underneath your ear, where she takes your earlobe in between her teeth, giving it a gentle tug.
You can't help the moan that escapes you, your hands coming up to grip her upper arms. She continues her descent, sucking harsh marks onto your throat and collarbones.
She peers up at where you've tossed your head back on the wall, where you've let your eyes flutter shut. She grins when they dart open at the feel of her pulling away.
She takes a few steps back, and you let your eyes roam over her naked body in earnest now.
"Beautiful," is what you whisper under your breath at the sight.
"Go into the bedroom, stand at the end of the bed." Manon's orders are direct and leave no room for argument. Not that you would, anyway.
You nod your head, then turn to open the bathroom door, pushing it open and entering the bedroom. You cross the room to stand at the foot of the bed as she instructed, turning to face where she now stands in the doorway.
Her eyes rake over your clothed body, and you grow a bit insecure. Your hair is a bit damp with sweat from the heat of the bathwater, and your plain dress is stained from working in the kitchens.
Manon doesn't seem to mind, though, as she begins walking closer.
You watch how her thighs move with every step she takes, how you can see wetness on the insides of them. You watch her abs flex, her tits bounce, and her face turn wicked.
Then, you spot how she extends her iron claws on her right hand. You swallow hard, eyes zeroing in on the sudden appearance of her natural weapons.
When she's finally close enough to touch you, she brings her hand up, trailing a claw from just underneath your eye, down your throat, and to your collarbone.
She doesn't really use it, though, until she's at the top of your dress.
Quicker than you can blink, she's slashing your dress down the middle. You gasp as it falls to the floor, body instantly struck with the cool air. You bring your arms up, attempting to cover your now bare chest.
Manon will have none of this, though. "I think it's only fair that you're undressed too, no?"
You shiver from the exposure and just stare at her, not responding.
"I asked you a question, maidservant. Do you think it's fair for me to be naked, and for you to not?" She takes another step forward, not breaking eye contact.
Finally, you stutter, "N-No, I-I suppose not."
Manon smirks, it's all malice and no warmth. "Good. Now, drop your arms."
You hesitate for a split second, but you cannot deny that you want her to see you. You want many, many things from the Witch Queen.
You do as she says, bringing your arms back down to your sides.
Instantly, Manon's eyes drag to your chest.
You try not to be insecure. They're large, and gravity has not been kind to them. They're covered in stretch marks, and you cannot help but think of all the teasing you endured growing up, as you filled out your body, growing thick and full.
You wonder if Manon minds, the angry red marks. The fact that your stomach is not flat, that your thighs are dimpled and touching one another.
As if sensing your negative thoughts, Manon places her iron claw, which she's shortened, underneath your chin. She tilts your face up, forcing you to look at her.
"I've wanted to fuck you for a long time, Y/N. Tell me, do you want to fuck me, too?"
You swallow, hard. Your heart is pounding, skin flushed with desire.
"Y-yes, my Q-," you stop yourself, remembering how she dislikes the title. "Yes, Manon."
Her grip tightens on your chin, her eyes narrow. "Yes, what?"
"Yes, I want to fuck you, Manon." Your voice is a near whisper, laced with lust. Your eyes flick downwards, to her lips. Lips you very much want to kiss again.
And so, you do. Leaning forward, Manon drops your chin as your lips meet, instead choosing to wrap her arms around your bare frame. Your plush body meets her toned one, and it feels like a fire's been lit in your belly at the feel of her nakedness against your own.
Manon's hands wander down your body, claws shredding your flimsy underwear, the last item on your body. Her hands knead your full ass, and you moan into her mouth at the touch. She takes the opportunity to push her tongue into your mouth, taking your make out further for a few moments, before she's pushing you down onto the bed.
You hit the mattress with a small huff, and Manon pulls away from your lips to trail kisses downwards. Her lips begin sucking a mark under the curve of your jaw, leaving small red and purple splotches in her wake as she covers the expanse of your throat and collarbones.
She continues, leaving open-mouthed kisses across the top of your chest. Her hands come up, pushing your large breasts into cleavage as she kneads and toys with a nipple. Her mouth occupies the other one, sucking and lightly nibbling with her teeth.
You're writhing on the bed underneath her, quiet pants of her name falling from your lips as you tangle your fingers in her hair. She releases your nipple with a pop, bringing her eyes up to meet your gaze.
"What do you want, kitty?" Her mouth covers your other nipple, removing her hands to give it the same wet attention as the other breast.
Your chest arches into her mouth. "More, please," you moan, aware of how pathetic you sound.
She smiles against your breast, it's devious and it makes your wet heat throb. She pulls away, sitting up and pinching at your nipples with both of her hands, aided by the wetness her mouth has left.
Her eyes take in your body, your swollen lips, red and parted as you pant. Your chest, covered in her marks, full breasts bouncing as your chest heaves. She bites her lip and smirks. "You're fucking hot, Y/N, do you know that?"
You shake your head no, and she growls a bit in disappointment. She shuffles down your body, gripping your thick thighs and pulling them open. She groans at the sight of your cunt, your pubic hair glistening with your arousal. The smell hits her, and her mouth waters with the need to taste you.
One of her hands travels the large expanse of your stomach, squeezing the flesh of your hips and curves. She trails across your bellybutton, and brings her thumb down to the hood of your clit. She places pressure there, but not nearly enough. Nevertheless, you whine at the jolt of pleasure, bucking your hips.
She hisses, her other hand grabbing one of your thighs, digging her nails in just a bit. A warning, for you to stay still.
She spreads your legs even wider, then settles onto her stomach between your thighs. Your eyes go wide at what she's about to do, and she makes sure to make eye contact as she spreads your lips apart with her thumbs, purses her lips, and spits right onto your clit. You gasp at the dirtiness of the action, and Manon grins in wicked delight.
"I'm gonna make this cunt mine, understand?"
You nod your head rapidly, wanting nothing more than to belong wholly to Manon.
Clearly, this displeases her. She lands a smack to your pussy, and you jump at the sting, whining at the pleasurable pain. She glares at you, "I said, do you understand?"
You groan in frustration, "Yes, yes, I understand!"
She hums, finally satisfied. "Good, and don't you dare move too much."
And with that, she's lowering her mouth to your cunt. She licks a few stripes with her tongue, from your sopping wet hole, to your swollen clit, and back again. Her strokes are light and teasing, and they have you biting your lip at the gentleness of it.
Then, she flicks her tongue along your clit, hard, up and down motions. You jerk, and again, she's digging her claws into your thigh. This time, you get the faint sensation she may have drawn blood.
She pulls back, and you look down, just to see her lick her lips and mumble against your lips, "Whose pussy is this?"
She sucks your clit into her mouth, hard, but slow sucks on the bundle of nerves. Your head falls back and your eyes flutter closed, "Yours, Manon, it's yours."
She sucks faster at your response, then brings an unclawed hand up, pushing her middle finger into your entrance. Despite how wet you are, you're still so tight, so she pushes slowly, eventually burying her slender finger into your contracting walls.
She holds still, focusing on working your clit with her mouth, until she slowly starts to gently thrust. Her pace is torturous, and when you finally moan out a cry for more, she begins to thrust faster. Her mouth hasn't left your throbbing clit once, and a coil is winding in the pit of your belly.
She can feel you clenching, hear your moans grow louder and louder. When she adds a second finger, curling in a come-hither motion, your arching off the bed, hands flying to her hair, pushing her deeper into your pussy. You expect her to scold you for it, but she moans against you, alternating between sucking your clit and flicking it.
When you become dangerously close to falling over the edge, you moan Manon's name, "I'm gonna cum, Manon, fuck."
She nods slightly against you, fingers fucking you wildly, mouth sloppily working your clit.
You cum all over her face, tightening around her fingers, chest heaving and a loud cry of her name falling from your lips. You're moaning with reckless abandon, uncaring if someone were to hear how well she's fucking you.
You're coming down from your high, but Manon isn't stopping. She pulls her fingers from your cunt, only to move her mouth down, choosing to fuck you with her tongue, now. You gasp, and try to push her head away due to the oversensitivity. She growls a warning into your heat, swatting your hands away, then using her fingers on your throbbing clit.
Quicker than before, you're on the edge of yet another orgasm. You're panting her name like its a prayer, mumbling, "'S'too much, fuck, Manon."
Manon doesn't care. Her plan was to show you who your pussy belongs to, and she continues to do exactly that.
Between her wet muscle rapidly fucking in and out of you, and her fingers rubbing harsh, tight circles on your clit, it's no surprise you don't last long. For the second time in just a matter of minutes, you're climaxing all over your Queen's face and hand.
This time, she relents, allowing you to come down, slowing her pace, before pulling away from you completely. You sigh in satisfaction, raising your head to look down at her, still laid between your spread legs.
She looks to your thigh, and you follow her gaze, confirming that she had, indeed, drawn blood with her clawed grip. You don't mind, it's not much of anything, just a few trickling droplets.
Your mouth drops open, eyebrows raising just a fraction when Manon leans in and licks the drying blood from where it's ran down the expanse of your thigh. And even though you'd just had two very intense orgasms, the sight makes your lower belly ache, full with desire for her all over again.
Manon rises to her knees, climbing back up your body. She braces herself on her hands, hovering above you, just barely out of reach. You huff at the tease, reaching up to grab her and pull her down.
She chuckles into your mouth as you kiss her, tasting your desire still on her tongue. Your hands roam her back, feeling the toned muscles. She sits herself on your lower abdomen, and you move farther down, kneading her ass and hips.
When she moans, you take the opportunity to pull back, tugging on her lower lip with your teeth.
You work your way up, until your hands land on her perky breasts. You massage them, rubbing your thumbs back and forth over her pretty pink nipples.
"You gonna let me make you cum, now?" You ask, husky and thick.
She smirks, biting her lip at the stimulation to her nipples. "Hmm, I suppose so."
You quickly rise to a sitting position, Manon leaning back to allow you to move easier. You lean forward like a woman starved, desperate to taste her skin.
You pull a nipple into your mouth, tugging it with your teeth before soothing it with your tongue. Manon's hands fly to your hair, urging you deeper into her chest. One hand works her other nipple while the other squeezes her ass.
Manon's pants and sighs urge you on, bringing your mouth to the other nipple to give it the same attention.
Eventually, Manon pushes you back down by your shoulders, shooting you a grin before she starts making her way up your body. You realize exactly what she's planning, and your stomach flutters in excitement. While she's adjusting herself, you give her ass a small smack, hoping she likes that. When she shoots a glare down at you, you grin, knowing she's not truly upset you. You file away that information for later, that Manon likes a bit of hitting, because you are truly hoping that this happens again sometime.
When her knees are on either side of your head, you place your hands on her thighs, bracing her and urging her to lower herself down. She sees how you eye her wet cunt, and she grabs some of your hair in her hand, making you look up at her.
"Are you gonna make me cum, kitty?"
You nod enthusiastically, licking your lips in anticipation. She hums, then finally, she lowers her hips.
You waste no time, licking through her lips excitedly. She jumps at the contact, then settles back down. You work through the length of her cunt a few times, one hand moving to her ass, squeezing it and pushing her deeper into your mouth.
Your tongue begins working quick circles around her clit, and she starts moving her hips back and forth along your tongue. You hum into her heat, encouraging her to ride your face like she clearly wants to. You pull away for a brief second to catch your breath and mumble, "Make me yours Manon, use me however you want," before you're burying your face into her wetness once again.
Manon doesn't need to be told twice, grinding herself down, riding your pretty face the way she'd been wanting to for so long. You moan into her, and the vibration quickly brings her closer to the edge.
You slip your tongue into her entrance, your nose nudging her clit with each roll of her hips, encouraged by the firm grip you have on her hip and ass.
"Fuck, Y/N," Manon moans, her head tossed back and eyes closed shut. You can tell from her voice that she's so close, and you pull your hand back and land another smack to her ass to encourage her. She gasps, and after a few more rolls of her hips, she's gushing all over your face. You lap at her cunt softly as she comes down from her high, eager to continue if that's what she wants.
But, Manon sits herself back up, panting at the intensity of her orgasm. She moves back down, then she bends so that she can connect your lips once more in a kiss. This time, the kiss is softer, not as full of heat as the others had been.
She moves to lay beside you on the bed, but hovers above you, pecking your lips several times before you speak. "Are you done already?" Your voice has a teasing tone to it, and you bite your lip to hold back a smile. "I think it's only fair you get to cum twice too, yes?"
Manon grins, clearly pleased that you care so much about her pleasure. "Maybe I wanted this to be more about you than it is about me?"
Your eyebrows scrunch in a bit of confusion, wondering why she seems to care so much for you.
She senses the question you don't dare to ask, and she tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear before speaking. "You've always caught my eye, Y/N, since I met you. And in more ways than just your looks. Is it so surprising someone would be interested in you?"
You want to say, yes, it is surprising someone could be attracted to me. But that isn't what confuses you the most. "Y-You're the... Queen..."
Manon raises an eyebrow at you, as if to say, "So what?"
"What does that matter? I'm still a person with desires, like anyone else."
You can tell by her tone and the look in her eye that she's sincere, if not by the attention she'd just paid to your body. You nod, not sure how to respond with words.
She kisses you again, then wraps her arms around you, pulling you into her still bare chest.
"Get used to this, maidservant, we will be doing this again."
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acourtofantumbra · 1 year ago
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Halfway through my Queen of Shadows reread and I'd written up this super long post running through a ton of 👀 parallels between ACOTAR, TOG, and CC witches, priestesses, and two of our favorite gingers' birth stories. But one second before posting the draft erased itself 🥹... Cute. I'll try again at one point because I want some smartie out there on the interwebs to tell me what it all means.
My conclusion every time is just like, "is everyone a witch?" and tbh I stand by that. But also... breeding... I hate to talk about it, but it's unavoidable at this point. All roads lead it to it unfortunately.
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bellasbookboyfriends · 2 years ago
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Hope Elide Blackbeak Crochan Havilliard
Heir to the Wastes, Manorian First-Born (of 4)
Manon art foundation by @madschofield
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~ Yes, Elide did cry for the first solid year of Hope’s existence, and at every single reminder since of her middle namesake.
Abilities
~ She has more Crochan blood than Ironteeth blood. She doesn’t have retractable iron teeth or nails. However, she can perform some Crochan magic like healing and glamours. She’s adept at flying and has her own deep purple wyvern named Lady (one-shot of how that name came to fruition soon).
~ She has shielding capabilities from Dorian and a basic ability to modify elements (air, water, fire, etc.) from that kernel of raw power passed down to all of his children.
Personality & Headcanons
~ Apart from her eye color, she’s her mother’s mini-me and reveres Manon.
~ “Mommy says I can be warm and not fuzzy.” Manon teaches her to be caring and assertive in the ways that feel most natural to her.
~ When Lord Westfall (Chaol’s father) came to Rifthold and convened with her father on some matters, “Mommy says I don’t owe scary men politeness, so they should earn my respect instead. Can you tell me some of your accomplishments?” Dorian’s howl could be heard all the way back to Anielle. Bizarrely, Chaol brought her a stunning set of bracelets next time he visited.
~ Dorian used to read to her as a little girl for hours at a clip, mostly fantasy books, and she was mesmerized. She was hooked on every word and couldn’t seem to fathom the fantastical creatures he described, despite the fact that she lived among so many. Was one herself really. Dorian never deterred her fascination, though. Likely because he was rather attached to the perpetual awe in her expression as she listened to him.
~ At five years old, she scared the shit out of Lorcan (who has barely since recovered) when he visited with Elide and ate the last of their pear tarts from Nesryn’s family bakery. She chased him around with Wind-Cleaver, proclaiming “off with his head” and laughing maniacally. Following this atrocity, both Manon and Aelin granted her official superiority over all other children.
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packetofsuga · 2 years ago
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Manon Blackbeak
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acourtofquestions · 3 months ago
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NEW This or That game (thanks to the fun I had on @lavendarneverlands with the @wishfulimaginings tag inspo)!
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rainingriversofyou · 24 days ago
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Manon x Dorian - Throne Of Glass 🖤 Artist: artsby.aira
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i-only-see-daylight · 9 months ago
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Manon: All of your existences are confusing. 
The Thirteen: How so? 
Manon: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you upsets me.
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eudaimonia83 · 1 year ago
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Manon Blackbeak Targaryen Crochan 🐉
think of all the titles she could have. She’d rival Daenerys for epithets. Last Queen of the Crochans…Scourge of the Stygian Spiders…Wingleader…Keeper of Wyrdkeys…Blackbeak Matron…Queen of the Witches…Queen of the Wastes. 😍 (oh yea and Queen of Adarlan too bc CMON 🔥)
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🩸𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚔🩸
Throne of Glass x Game of Thrones crossover for this month’s sticker! Check out my pAtreon to sign up! https://patreon.com/s_holdthebus
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winterinvelaris · 3 months ago
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I think I know who the Archerons are descended from (MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE MAASVERSE)
So, I know we talk a lot about the Archerons and their potentially magical lineage, and I'd like to take my own personal stab at it: I think the sisters are descended from Dorian and Manon.
Let's talk about the surface level stuff: It's heavily implied that Dorian and Manon's relationship does not end after Kingdom of Ash. It's pretty reasonable to assume that they might've even gotten married and had children (unless the witch-typical complications prevented them from doing so). It's also very possible to assume that Throne of Glass takes place in the past. (That's a theory explanation for another day, though. emilystheories on insta has a great run down of it.) We also know that the Throne of Glass fae made their way to other worlds- perhaps even the ACOTAR universe?
The Archerons and Magic: We know that these three sisters start human, but after becoming Fae, they are MASSIVELY more powerful than most others of their species. Even before their transformations, they were powerful-- think about Nesta shielding against Tamlin's glamour and the massive amount of will and strength it canonically took both her and Elain to survive the Cauldron. This shows that they aren't your everyday, average humans. The Nesta-is-a-witch theory isn't exactly a new one- there's plenty of jokes in the text that connect her to witches that it almost feels unnecessary to mention her iron-will, her death magic, her beauty, or her bloodthirstiness. Almost. Everything about Nesta screams Ironteeth. And then there's Elain-- her connection to Dorian and Manon's magic is a little less obvious than that of her sisters. I definitely think she has more of Manon's Crochan influence than Ironteeth. The Crochan are described as peaceful and beautiful-- sound familiar? We also know that it was common for witches to be Seers and for them to make Witch Mirrors that could see through time. Now, think about Dorian's magic: raw, unspecified power that he usually uses for elemental power and shapeshifting. He favors ice, usually. Now, think about Feyre's power: abilities so diverse it might as well be raw that focuses on elemental power and shapeshifting. She and her water-wolves also have a lot of fun with the ice. VERY similar. Too similar to ignore. 
Archerons and Titles: Okay, so we know that the Archerons come from money. Or, at least they used to. It's possible for that money to have come from a royal bloodline. But that's not what's important right now. There's something that's been bugging me for a while, and I think this theory explains it. Have you noticed that Feyre (if we ignore Rhysand lol) is virtually never referred to as a queen? She's almost always called a Princess, specifically the Princess of Carrion. Nesta, despite not having an official title, is always the one who's called a Queen. Could this be a nod to the ancestors these sisters take after the most? Feyre is always called a Princess even after becoming High Lady-- quite similar to our favorite Princeling after he becomes King. Nesta has always been regarded as a Queen no matter her status-- also similar to the High Queen of witches before she got her title.
Other notable things:
The witches have the three-faced goddess. There are three Archeron sisters. Witches are usually women. Obviously, the sisters are all women. Witches raise their young to be heartless and cutthroat-- much like how Nesta was raised by their mother. Feyre's name is an ancient faerie name. The Archeron cottage had Wyrdmarks on it, implying influence from TOG in the ACOTAR world.
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shadowqueenjude · 1 year ago
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TOG characters meet ACOTAR characters part 1
It was the annual Yulemas celebration, and all of Aelin’s friends + Lorcan had convened in Terrasen’s palace. Everyone from Ansel of Briarcliff to Manon Crochan Blackbeak came. Even Yrene with her abdomen that was now showing had come. Aelin and Rowan’s home had never felt more full. It was an amazing feeling. She wondered if this was how it would feel to have children.
She pushed the feeling aside. As much as she wanted children, she wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment yet. Terrasen’s rebuilding came first.
Aelin was wearing a shiny silver dress while her mate wore green armor (sigh, when was he going to start wearing normal clothing?) that brought out his eyes. Fenrys on the other hand, was having way too much fun dressing up. He’d shown up in a full-blown white toga, paired with a golden laurel and golden waistband. He’d tied half his hair up and left the rest to cascade in waves around his shoulders. He seemed just fine as he went to annoy Lorcan, but Aelin could sense the sadness radiating out of him. Aelin just wished she knew how to fix it.
Lorcan was not in black (gasp!), but rather it seemed he had been forced into dark red robes by his wife, who wore a matching dark red dress. It never failed to amuse Aelin that one, his name was Lord Lorcan Lochan, and two, he willingly followed the small, delicate young Lady of Perranth’s every order. He had been teaching her how to read while helping rebuild Perranth, so Aelin would sometimes catch Elide reading children’s books out of the Terrasen royal library.
Chaol was awkwardly standing in a corner with Manon, of all the people. Dorian was dancing with Chaol’s wife, leaving the two standing near each other. Chaol looked slightly pale and constantly stared at Manon’s hands, as if waiting for the iron nails to unsheathe themselves. Aelin decided to spare her old friend and come in between them.
Once she was within earshot (since she was Fae, she was still quite far from them), she heard Manon hiss in his ear, “Agree to dance with me Chaol, so that Dorian thinks I’m playing nice with his friends.”
“Are you playing nice with his friends though?” Chaol dared to ask.
“Do I look nice to you, human? Come, let’s dance.” Manon grabbed his hand.
“Mind your manners, witch,” Aelin said coolly, stepping towards them. There was a glimmer of relief in Chaol’s eyes as Aelin interfered. “I’ll keep her from doing anything murderous, don’t worry,” Aelin said, patting Chaol on the arm. Then they began to dance.
Manon had very little grace, but Chaol made up for it with his own steering.
“No interest in dancing, my queen?” Rowan suddenly appeared in front of him, offering a tattooed hand to dance. Aelin snorted. “Still pretending to be a gentleman, I see.” But she accepted the hand and let him pull her to the dance floor.
Aelin swished and swayed around, and Rowan laughed. “Are you drunk already, my queen?”
Aelin shook her head. “No, the floor is just unsteady.”
“Why would it be unsteady?” Rowan asked. But then he suddenly tilted sideways. “Oh shit.” Aelin had no time to react when she and a majority of the guests at her party got sucked into a vacuum in the ground like a black hole. Meanwhile in Velaris… Gwyn rolled her eyes as she trained with Emerie and Nesta. “Merill has become more and more obsessed with her otherworld theory ever since you used the Harp. I don’t know how she found out about it, but…” Gwyn swiped low with her sword and aimed a kick at Emerie, who dodged it quickly. “She’s convinced she’s found a way she can actually look into other worlds. I told her she’s barking, and she got mad.”
Nesta snorted. “I’d be pretty irritated too if a little priestess called me crazy.”
Gwyn elbowed her, and the three of them laughed. Merill’s experiments were ridiculous anyway.
Lucien was just strolling through the streets of Velaris when he was hit by flying fae.
The Mother must really hate him, he decided. He’s just minding his own business on any other day and of COURSE he’s hit in the face by a body.
“That’s it, I’m done with this shit,” Lucien grumbled, pushing the body off of him. He found himself staring into the eyes of a beautiful female. Her eyes were a turquoise with a ring of gold around the pupil, with long flowing blonde hair that fell to her waist. She was wearing an elegant crown along with a silver dress so sparkly Lucien almost had to look away. But that wasn’t the strangest thing. No, the strangest thing was that…
“I can smell the flame on you,” he said. The female just stared at him, confused. Then she replied back in a foreign language.
Lucien recognized it from a class he had taken ages ago. He was probably the only one of his brothers who would ever recognize it, as he had had the most thorough education as the youngest child. He was pretty sure there would never come an occasion where he’d need to converse in such a dead language, but here he was.
“I can’t understand you,” she had said. “No one has spoken that language here in thousands of years,” Lucien replied back in that old tongue. His words sounded strange, like they were spoken by a different person.
The blonde girl gasped. “Oh no. I must have traveled between worlds.”
Lucien raised a brow. “Impressive. How’d you manage that?”
The girl shook her head. “This was not supposed to happen. The Wyrdgates are closed.”
“I have no idea what Wyrdgates are, but I’m pretty sure there are multiple ways to cut across worlds.” The girl stared at him. “Where am I?”
Lucien shrugged. “Prythian.”
“My friends- they must have fallen here with me. Where are they?”
Lucien shrugged. “I don’t know. I only saw you, as you literally knocked me down.”
The girl winced. “Sorry about that.”
Lucien smirked. “There are better ways to get my attention than sitting on my face.”
The girl smirked back but replied with, “You’re hot for sure, but I’m married.”
Lucien stood up, brushed off his clothes, then offered the girl a hand. “I was only joking. I’m a mated male.”
The girl took it. “What a coincidence. I’m also mated. What is your name?”
“Lucien. You?”
The girl grinned. “Aelin.”
Lucien and Aelin searched around Velaris for her friends. It wasn’t hard to find most of them. They were all dressed in strange attire and looked extremely disoriented. Lucien soon met Aelin’s mate and husband, a male who looked as if he’d fit right into the Summer Court with his white hair and tanned skin. He later found a male he could only describe as golden. Golden hair, golden skin, golden on his clothes. He gasped when he saw Lucien. Lucien had raised a brow. “Is something wrong?”
The golden male had replied with, “Wow…your hair. It’s so bright, and thick, and colorful, and long, and shiny!!!!!” He’d turned to the white-haired male and said, “I want red hair now, Rowan.”
Lucien had to stifle a laugh. “Thanks.”
“How do you maintain your hair?” The golden male, who Lucien soon came to know was named Fenrys, kept asking him about his hair care routine and it occupied them until Aelin found their other friends.
Lorcan groaned as he got off the ground. He was covered in snow, having landed in a nice, clean patch of it. He panicked for a moment, searching for his wife before he realized he hadn’t let go of her hand. Elide was right next to him, and she looked a little winded but otherwise ok. On Lorcan’s other side several feet down, he could see Manon, Chaol, Dorian, and Yrene getting off the ground. Yrene was frantically patting her womb, trying to ensure that her baby was still alive. Lorcan resisted the urge to shout that her baby was just fine. He had no idea what sort of enemies were here.
He got up and gently pulled his wife with him. Together, they began to walk towards the King of Adarlan. Just then, he saw Aelin walk around the corner with Fenrys, Rowan, and a strange male with red hair and a scar that added a dangerous edge to his handsome face.
Together, Lorcan and company walked towards Aelin.
“Who the hell are you,” Lorcan asked shortly of the redhead.
Aelin tsked. “Sorry about him, Lucien. He’s a miserable bastard, but don’t let him put you out. You ever need him to do something, just ask his wife, Elide.” She gestured to the woman whose hand Lorcan still held.
Lorcan scowled, but the male who Aelin referred to as Lucien looked him over and grinned.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lorcan demanded. The male with glossy red hair and a wicked scar to go with the metal eye on one side of his face only grinned and replied, "You're taller than Cassian."
“Who the hell is Cassian?”
Lucien shrugged. “Nobody important. An annoying, bratty, overgrown bat.” Lucien turned to Aelin. “I’m assuming you’ll want a safe place to stay temporarily with all your subjects.”
Aelin raised a brow. “Subjects?”
Lucien snorted. “I don’t think ordinary citizens walk around with that kind of glamour or with crowns on their heads.” He gestured to all of them. “I have a residence in this city. I’ll take you all there.”
Lorcan wasn’t sure if they could trust the male, but he seemed decent enough. Lorcan could smell no ill will on him. He wondered at the scar on his face. Fae did not scar easily, and for him to have a metal eye like that…he must have survived unbearable cruelty. He immediately thought of his wife’s ruined ankle, a product of the tower she had been locked in for ten years, and he clenched his teeth. What kind of fucked up shit went on in this world?
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