#Manon blackbeak x yn

[throneofsmut]

Just Breathe

Poly! Manorian x Reader || WC: 1.9k || Warnings: Smut

Summary: Things get heated between Manon and reader and Dorian joins. Based off this request.

****

You were sparring with the training dummy in the training room of the Glass Castle, for hours now. And yet still you showed no sign of stopping or slowing down. 

A gift and a curse from being the most powerful pure-blooded fae female in existence. Regardless if you were still in your early 20s. 

Your cousin Rowan Whitethorn, the King Consort of Terrasen, trained you himself when you were a child. Only he was able to understand what it's like to have such powerful and vast magic thrumming in your veins, because he’s the same. 

He knows how important it is for you to be able to control it instead of letting it control you. Rowan also trained you in weaponry and in combat, in case you couldn’t access your magic. 

But, he also taught you the importance of training because of how powerful you are and the importance of not overwhelming yourself with your magic by letting it out in small bursts. 

By releasing it in small bursts, you can manage it more effectively and avoid potential dangers or unintended consequences. You can still hear his deep voice now, loud and clear in your head, “It's like releasing pressure slowly from a valve to ensure everything stays under control.”

Which is what you were doing now. 

Every blow you landed against the training dummy, powerful, calculated and merciless. Lethal. Had they been a real enemy. While simultaneously letting out small waves of ice-kissed wind around you and into the room.

Then you felt her—your magic always alerting you when she was near. The witch who stole half your heart. Manon Blackbeak the Queen of Witches. 

And if she was here then the one who stole the other half of your heart was close by. Dorian Havilliard the King of Adarlan. 

“I’ll be up soon,” you told her without stopping raining down blows on the training dummy. 

“Don’t bother,” she replied. That made you stop but you still didn’t turn to face her. “It’s almost midday,” she continued, sounding closer this time and you relaxed.

You finally turned to face her and noted that she was already dressed for the day and that she was right. If the sunlight pouring in from the ajar door behind her was any proof. “Huh. . . I guess I lost track of time.” Again, you didn’t have to add, seeing as this happens more often than not. 

“Hmm.” Manon hummed, taking a couple more steps closer before stopping in the middle of the room and taking off her tunic, in the training ring. Her gold eyes never leave your chest watching as it rises and falls steadily while you try to catch your breath. 

Her gaze darkening when she takes in the fact that your white shirt is practically see through from sweat. You can’t help but smirk, “See something you like?”

She shakes her head, smirking back.  “Step into the ring. If you want to keep training, I’ll train with you.” Gold eyes flick down to your hands in a pointed glance. “Unless you want to keep bleeding?” Looking down at your hands, you realize that your knuckles are bruised, cut and bloody. 

Brows furrowing as you look over your shoulder at the training dummy; all the hay that once filled it is on the floor, the fabric in tatters and the wood is splintered from where you kept hitting it. “All right, witchling, do your worst.” You challenge as you prowl onto the fighting mat. 

“With pleasure, faeling.” She grins as she settles into a fighting stance. You mirror her actions and the second you nod at her, she lunges. 

The both of you go back forth for a while trying to pin the other to no avail. “Come on, sweetheart,” you run your tongue on your lips tauntingly, “are you tired already?” You bait her and she takes it, lunging, giving you the opening you need to pin her to the mat. 

Your hips settle directly atop of hers, your hands wrapping around her wrists, keeping them and her pinned to the mat. You lean forward using your weight as leverage so she can’t buck you off. She lifts her head as best she can, her eyes flicking to your lips, “Why don’t you just kiss me already?” 

You know she’s trying to bait you, eyes flicking from her gold ones to her lips and to her heaving chest. “I’ll kiss you if you can pin me.” Her eyes narrow at your words but she smiles—a smile only reserved for you and Dorian. 

Manon tries to buck you off again but you hold firm, chuckling as she struggles, your lips parting to speak but before you can get a word out your magic alerts you of his presence. Dorian. Unconsciously your head turns, to find him looking at you and Manon with amusement.

Giving the witch Queen the opportunity to flip you both so you’re pinned beneath her. She flashes you a wicked smirk, her own eyes glinting and then she’s kissing you. Your lips parting in a moan that she swallows before letting out a moan of her own as you deepen the kiss. 

The both of you pull away at the same time, panting softly when you hear his deep sensual voice, “Done already?” You both open your mouths to respond when invisible hands rove over and in between your bodies, earning breathy whines from you. “Tired?” he questions.

Manon grinds against you, both of you letting out soft moans at the feeling and from the way Dorian’s using his magic on you. An invisible hand roving over both of your tits, palming and squeezing before sliding up, and wrapping around your throat—squeezing. 

Through half lidded eyes you see Manon arch her back and tilt her head back, proving she feels the same thing. “Can you keep going. . . yes or no?” Dorian asks again, his voice low with desire and commanding. 

“Yes.” You both breathe and the hands wrapped around your throats squeezes harder. 

“Good girls,” the King praises. Your head turns towards him when you hear sure and steady footfalls getting closer. He flashes you a lazy grin, vibrant blue eyes flickering over both of your forms before he tuts, shaking his head. “Both of you are wearing too much clothes.” 

His fingers make quick work of removing his own clothes while his magic makes quick work of removing both of yours. “Come here,” he murmurs to the both of you as he stands in the middle of the mat. You both move to stand before him and then he commands you to lay down. 

Once your back is flat against the mat he kneels between your legs and leans over you to kiss you, once. Hungrily—a warning of what’s to come. Then he’s commanding Manon. “Sit on her face, witchling.” Dorian’s lips wrapping around your clit the same time Manon straddles your face. 

You part her folds that were glistening with arousal with a pointed tongue, flicking it against her clit while Dorian sucked yours harshly. “Oh, gods!” Manon cried out as her hips bucked but you clamped your hands around her thighs, keeping her in place. 

Her hips jerking everytime you moaned against her sensitive bundle of nerves from your princeling sucking and swirling his tongue over your clit while fucking you with long deft fingers. The both of you, writhing and moaning messes while nearly falling over the edge. 

Then he curled them inside you, hitting the spot that sent you over the edge everytime and you came with a lewd moan that sent Manon over the edge with you while you sucked her clit. She was still trembling when she rolled off of you. 

Dorian was still working you through your orgasm with his fingers when he sat on his knees between your legs. Invisible fingers pinching and rolling your hardened nipples, others gripping your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as you come undone beneath his touch. 

You could still hear Manon cry out from pleasure and you had no doubt invisible hands were bringing her pleasure in waves. One orgasm blending into two and two to three. 

Dorian was the image of pure male satisfaction as he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean.  His free hand rubbing the head of his cock against your folds, making your hips jerk and then he pushed in inch by inch. Stretching you out. Kissing you, your neck, swirling his tongue over your nipples as you adjusted to him. 

You rolled your hips letting him know he could move and his ring adorned hand wrapped around your throat, “Careful, faeling. I’m fucking you right now. Not the other way around.” You whined at his words as his hips snapped at a brutal pace. 

“F-fuck. . . oh!” you rasped out. “You feel so good!”

He threw his head back in a groan at the praise. But then, his head snapped towards the door, hips never faltering. And that’s when you heard it, heavy footsteps walking by at the end of the corridor. Probably one of the royal guards. Maybe Chaol. 

Your back arching as you let out a sharp moan at the thought of being heard, being caught with your lovers. 

Dorian squeezed harder, “You want them to see you getting fucked? Hmm?” He slapped one of your tits earning another moan. “You want them to see you getting treated like the pretty slut that you are, my little faeling.” You nodded desperately and he chuckled darkly, “then take it.”

His large hands moved to grip your hips and you greedily gulped down air, as he pounded into you mercilessly. He leaned back on his haunches slightly changing the angle and your walls clenched around his cock in response. 

You felt pressure building at the base of your spine and knew you were going to dissolve into pleasure again. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him and his hips began to stutter.

He wrapped a ring adorned hand around your throat again, squeezing until you saw stars and then he leaned down. His warm breath tickling your sensitive pointed ear, “Just breathe,” he taunted then he let go. His words, the last thing you heard as you fell over the edge. 

Moments later you felt his cock twitch inside you and then he was spilling himself into you. Hips jerking as he worked both of you through your orgasm. 

You felt him kiss you and then your forehead and then he pulled out. 

Through your heart pounding in your ears you heard Manon crying out for him and it was all you could do to open your eyes and look at them. Manon was on her hands and knees and Dorian was behind her.

 Fucking her mercilessly. 

The only noises you could hear were obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, Manon’s breathy moans and Dorian’s low raspy groans. Your body was still trembling when Manon wrapped a pale hand around your ankle and pulled you towards her, so your cunt was right in front of her face. 

Still panting from your orgasm when she gave you a feral grin, “Just breathe, sweetheart.” She teased you with the same nickname you had taunted her with earlier and started eating you out. 

You screamed out as your body jolted from the overstimulation but that only spurred her on. Your back arching as she moaned against your clit. You could already feel another orgasm building and from the way they were both moaning and groaning you knew they were too. 

And not even a minute later all three of you came at the same time. Each other’s names on your lips in a plea or prayer you couldn’t tell.

[throneofsapphics]

rude awakening

Manorian x Reader

Summary: Dorian and reader get incredibly wasted, and Manon finds a way to get back at them. 

Warnings: drinking

You and Dorian were drunk, so fucking drunk you could barely hold each other up. You’d gotten into the Faerie wine, a gift from some delegate from Doranelle. Manon supposed it was your idea, and that you dragged Dorian into it. Although she doubted you had to try very hard. If Adarlan could see both of you like this … but, she had to admit it was amusing and maybe even a bit endearing.

“Humans,” Manon tutted as you stumbled, clutching to each other. “Can’t hold their alcohol.” 

You gave her a lazy grin before laughing at the near-identical look on Dorian’s face. 

“I suppose I’m responsible for you two idiots.” Manon frowned, watching how you held each other up, a walking hazard. She did have to take care of both of you that night, making sure you got into bed - propped up on your sides. It was in her nature to worry and she woke up frequently throughout the night to make sure both of you were still okay. You were, although you reeked. Even though you both washed up, she could smell the alcohol still working its way out of your bodies. 

-

You clutched your head the next morning. It was pounding, almost pounding right out of your skull. How much had you drank? You decided to swear off Faerie wine. Permanently. You rolled over, and Dorian had one hand covering his eyes - shielding from the light peeking through the curtains. It couldn’t be far past sunrise. 

“Get up.” Manon’s voice echoed through the room. “We have things to do.” Things to do? No, there wasn’t anything. Anything you remembered. 

“What the hell do we have to do?” You whispered to Dorian, knowing her witch senses would let her hear. 

“I have no idea.” He rolled back over, face planting into the pillow. You cast one wary glance towards the door - the witch had disappeared, good enough for you, and rolled back over onto your pillow, clutching the blanket around you. 

-

Ice cold water splashed against both of you. Dorian let out a high pitched shriek - one you’d make fun of him for later, when you weren’t so pissed at Manon, who looked very pleased with herself. She glanced down at the second bucket behind her, and missed the pillow you launched - one that hit her directly in the head. She snarled, at your entirely too satisfied grin, and you paled, throwing your body behind Dorian, arms wrapped around his waist, using him as your human shield. 

The sheets were soaked, and the water only seeped further into your skin. 

You felt the magic swirling around both of you, and a splash of water hit the shield. You hid your laugh as a vicious snarl echoed through the room. Another bit of magic dried the sheets. 

Manon had no way to get through his shield, but still prowled across the room, looking for a way in, as he let you sleep against his chest for another hour. Purely to piss her off. 

[throneofsapphics]

Manon x reader x Asterin (angst) please 🤸‍♀️

think for yourself.

(part two)

Manon x Reader x Asterin 

Summary: “I don’t care how you feel about this.” The white haired witch said through gritted teeth, those gold eyes seeming to burn a brand into you. 

“When have you ever cared?” Your voice was quiet and you went against all common sense, turning your back to walk towards the kitchen area. “Leave.”

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: angst, slight injury, blood 

A/N: angst is my favorite thing to write. I'm so sorry. also not proofread very well

It was late at night, in the small cabin you lived in, a few miles from the nearest village, perfectly secluded. The safest way for you to live. When you made trips into town, they welcomed you with open arms - mostly because of the herbs and goods you would barter or sell, but you did have a few friends there. Nobody there knows exactly where you live, nor did you invite anyone over, and you always took different routes home, shaking any who tried to follow. Even if that meant you would double the amount of time it took you to get back. Paranoia is good. It’s kept you alive. However, any common sense seemed to fall away for two witches. Who’d thankfully captured your heart instead of tearing it out. 

-

I haven’t seen your kind for some time.” A smooth and cold voice purred from behind you. Rarely could anyone sneak up on you, not with the senses from your Fae heritage. You slowly turned to face them. To of them. Witches. One with white-blonde hair and a predatory look in her eyes stalked towards you, the other fell into step a pace behind her, matching each other in pace and stride. Instead of the urge to flee, a small voice told you to stay. So you did, with that immortal stillness. Fleeing would give them a chase, something they undoubtedly would enjoy. 

You didn’t flinch as iron nails snapped out, or as one dug under your chin, tilting your face upwards. You met the burnt-gold eyes with a defiant gaze. “I don’t remember them being quite so pretty,” the other commented, and you could hear the amusement but didn’t dare take your eyes off the witch in front of you. The nails snapped back, and the two walked away without another word. 

-

The cabin had one bedroom, a living and kitchen area, and an outhouse. A few hens cluck around outside, along with a particularly nasty rooster you caught Manon eyeing once in a while. Like it would be her next meal. 

You laid, stretched across the couch with your head in Asterin’s lap, her fingers running through your hair, and Manon sat not too far away, in a worn down but cozy red armchair you’d come to associate as hers. 

A tension filled the room, both of the witches seeming on edge, and you couldn’t figure out why. Finally, you sighed and sat up, ignoring Asterin’s huff of protest and angling yourself so you could easily see both of them. “What is it?” you asked. 

“We’re leaving.” Manon said bluntly, and Asterin winced. 

“When?” You replied, fighting the dread that crept inside you. The left frequently, but something about this felt different. Off. 

“One week.” 

Your heart dropped, eyes starting to burn slightly but Manon wouldn’t react to your tears, she never did. Asterin, on the other hand, would. To anyone else, except maybe the rest of the thirteen, she would seem just as unflinching, the perfect mask of stone obedience. But, the corners of her lips turned down ever so slightly. Guilt, you could sense her guilt. If they were telling you this early … 

You cleared your throat, “how long?” 

“We don’t know.” Asterin said softly. 

“Can I ask what you’ll be doing?” 

“You can always ask,” she teased, but it fell short. She and Manon exchanged a glance, and Asterin continued - to your surprise. “The King has been breeding Wyvern’s. He needs riders for his aerial cavalry.” 

The world froze around you. You felt fate tightening its strings, twisting around your heart. Ironteeth witches as aerial cavalry for the king's army. That same army who … but they didn’t know about that, or they never would’ve told you. 

“Are you going to say anything?” Manon snapped, your silence annoying her. She didn’t like being ignored. 

“Why?” You looked back and forth between the two of them. 

“When we are done, when we’ve served” Manon said the word with disgust, “him, we will keep the wyverns and reclaim the wastes.” 

The wastes. The homeland both of them had been dreaming of for longer than you were alive. But serving him? The King had already conquered Erilea, committed various genocides, banished magic, and had an entire continent under his thumb. What more is he planning to do? Manon, herself, would never make the choice to serve a king, to follow his orders, meaning it had to have come from her grandmother. The High Witch of the Blackbeak clan. You tried to swallow your anger, you really did, but the words came out before your filter could catch up. 

“Is this how you’re going to spend the rest of your life, following your grandmothers every order, whoring yourself out to that King?” Before you could blink, both were on their feet. Manon’s iron nails dug harshly into your skin, and you felt the warm slick of blood starting to drip down your neck as she dragged you to your feet. 

“I should kill you.” Manon snarled, cold fury in her eyes. You’d insulted her, hit right where it would hurt. Good. Asterin laid a hand on her cousin's shoulder, but her eyes were cold too. 

“Do it,” you snarled right back, “your never master would order you to anyway.” 

Asterin barely yanked Manon back in time, scratches that would scar left blood dripping down your neck. “Be careful what you say next,” she warned as Manon shook off her grip. Seconds ago, Manon may have killed you but you could tell she wouldn’t now. 

“I don’t care how you feel about this.” The white haired witch said through gritted teeth, those gold eyes seeming to burn a brand into you. 

“When have you ever cared?” Your voice was quiet and you went against all common sense, turning your back to walk towards the kitchen area. “Leave.” 

Two sets of footsteps left, the door creaked open and slammed shut, and hushed arguments sounded outside your door. Too quiet for you to hear. One set came back in as the heavy oak door creaked, but closed quietly this time. 

“She does care,” Asterin said softly, her arms wrapping around your waist to pull your back to her chest. Despite the anger still bubbling in you, you melted back into her, resting your head against her shoulder. “She’ll be back in a few days,” she murmured, not expecting a reply from you. 

She let you lay in her arms until late that night, content to enjoy each others embrace, as if she knew what would happen next. 

-

Manon stormed towards your cabin, intent on doing something. She wouldn’t apologize, but didn’t want to leave on those terms, with your words in her mind. Whoring yourself out. Your new master. If you were anyone else, you would’ve been dead before the second curse had been uttered. 

Asterin followed closely behind her. They knew something was off as soon as they arrived. It felt stale. The hens and that gods-damned rooster were nowhere to be seen. She slammed through the door and the place was empty. You hadn’t been there in a few days. A quick scan told her everything essential to you was gone.

She whirled on Asterin. “Did you know?” Her second shook her head, her emotions flooding through her eyes. 

A small note on the table. Manon’s stomach dropped seeing it. She didn’t want to, but she had to read it. Instinct told her the note was meant mostly for her, even without a name on it., 

I love you. If you ever loved, cared for, or respected me, you’ll leave me alone. I hope you learn to think for yourself one day. 

Discolored spots and splotched ink littered the page. You cried while writing it. Manon dropped it like it burned her, and stalked out the cabin without a look back. 

Asterin read it one. Twice. Three times, and memorized it before destroying it. She took one last look around, trying to memorize every detail, before letting out a long breath and following Manon. 

-

The battle was over, and Manon still felt empty. A gaping hole left in her soul. Twelve pieces of her were missing. But, footsteps sounded behind her, and she prepared to snarl at whoever might be disturbing her. She was surprised when Abraxos didn’t react beyond curiosity. Manon knew that scent. Intimately. She whirled around to see you. Alive. 

“So you did learn to think for yourself.” 

[throneofsapphics]

Will u do a Manon x reader but there’s like a lot of tension and angst however Manon ends up comforting the reader when she breaks down lol (we love some tension turning into fluff)

of no consequence

Manon x Reader

Summary: That was the first time you’d seen the witch stunned. She opened her mouth, and shut it again. That told you everything you needed to know. With a scoff and roll of your eyes, you stalked from the room, letting the door shut quietly behind you. She didn’t follow. 

Warnings: angst, adult themes 

A/N: Thank you for the request :) I think the ending counts for fluff?

 

“And why is your bed warmer here?” He said dryly, mirth in his eyes. He knows exactly who you are - a permanent emissary to the Witch Kingdom, and you’d met before. You knew it was a joke - maybe one in bad taste, but you laughed. Manon, however, did not appreciate it. 

Her nails were poised dangerously close to the Fae male’s throat. He was shaking, and you could sense fear rolling from him. You placed a careful hand on Manon’s shoulder. “He’s not worth it,” you murmured quietly, and the male spit out an apology. 

She released him, and he fled from your sight. You both watched until he left, before she wrapped her arm around your lower back and led you out of the room - not giving a damn who was watching or about the rest of the meeting. 

“He was joking,” you tried to reason as you entered her chambers.

“I don’t care whether that’s what you are or not, he insulted you.” Her tone was sharp as she watched you, looking for your reaction. 

What you are … insulted, the words echoed in your head. 

“I didn’t realize sharing your bed is degrading.” The venom in your voice surprised her, before those burnt-gold eyes narrowed, white hair flipping over her shoulder. 

“That’s not what I said. He used the term as an insult.” You read between the lines. You are a bed warmer - to her. For months, you’d wanted to know where you stood with her. Not ideal, but here was your chance. 

“So I’m your bed warmer.” 

“You are a valued member of this court,” she snapped. “Whether or not we share a bed is of no consequence.”

Of no consequence. “If that’s,” you swallowed harshly, “what you believe …” 

“Of course I do,” She interrupted, not-iron nails clenched into her palms. 

“Manon,” you said cautiously, finally asking the damned question you’d wanted to, for months. “Am I more than a bed warmer to you?” You felt your heart nearly pounding out of your chest, and your palms began to sweat. 

That was the first time you’d seen the witch stunned. She opened her mouth, and shut it again. That told you everything you needed to know. With a scoff and roll of your eyes, you stalked from the room, letting the door shut quietly behind you. She didn’t follow. 

You slept, or tried to, in your own rooms that night. The sheets were dusty enough you hunted down a new set. Even with comfortable, clean sheets and a rare breeze flowing through the window, you tossed and turned for hours. 

Manon appeared at midnight and all but dragged you back to hers, where you laid on opposite sides of the bed. She slept soundly, but you stared at the ceiling most of the night, her words running through your mind; what you are, insulted, of no consequence. 

-

It had been nearly a week since that night. That confrontation. Manon’s movement woke you. She slipped out of bed, headed right for the bathing room before you could say a word. You held in a sigh, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes before sitting up, sheets bunching around your waist. It was early, the dawn rays barely peeking into the room. 

She reappeared minutes later, fully dressed. “Good morning,” you said quietly as she took the most direct path to the door. She paused, her eyes darting towards you as if she hadn’t expected you to wake. A curt nod, and she left. 

Your fists clenched at the sheets, forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths. You’d tried to bridge the gap over the last week. Maybe not that hard, but certainly more effort than she was putting in. You wouldn’t be affected by this, you told yourself, by her moods and actions. Still, sparing two gods-damned words for you in the morning shouldn't be that difficult, even in your current situation. 

-

Bronwen had watched you and her cousin dance around each other for nearly a week, and she was sick of it. She has no idea what the hell happened that night, but between Manon’s snapping and your utter lack of emotion, she had to do something. Even if both of you might kill her for it. 

-

Bronwen slammed the door closed behind you. “Figure it out,” she yelled, leaving you with Manon. 

The witch was snarling and pacing, but stopped to face you. “Did you put her up to this?” Her voice was pure ice. You shook your head, keeping your face carved into the neutral mask you perfected years ago. She tilted her head slightly, “why should I believe you?” 

Gods. Those five words. The utter lack of trust. Your knees shook, and slammed into the stone floor before you could catch yourself. 

-

Manon had never seen you fall apart, not once in all of the years she’d known you and protective - that’s what she’d call it, protective instincts had her crossing the room. 

She knelt before you, carefully peeling your hands back to reveal your face, cheeks still wet with tears, and eyes firmly avoiding hers. Not avoiding them in submission, no, you didn’t want to see her. That stung. “Look me in the eyes.” She tried to keep her voice soft. 

“Why should I?” The bitterness in your tone made her pause, think carefully on what to say next. 

“Because I want to see you.” 

A scoff.

Manon had enough, if you wouldn’t look at her … she lifted you to your feet, looping her arms underneath yours, and tugged you into a tight embrace. 

-

You were rigid in her arms. The embrace wasn’t unwelcome, just unexpected. You thought she would laugh and walk away. But, now she’s carefully guiding the back of your head to rest against her chest, one arm wrapped around your lower back. Hesitantly and lightly, you draped your arms around her. 

The rest you could figure out later, for now you wanted to enjoy this moment.

[throneofsapphics]

Omg please could we have a part 2 of think for yourself? I’m so desperate to know what happens !

you did learn 

(part one)

Manon x Reader x Asterin 

Summary: Manon took a few steps towards you, and you watched carefully - not sure if she would try and slit your throat. Instead, she closed the space and pulled you to her chest, your arms wrapped around her, squeezing back lightly. 

Word Count: ~1.4k 

Warnings: maybe angst, some fluff, reunions  

A/N: thank you so much for requesting it ! 

You cried the first few days. Leaving them, Gods it hurt - felt like it was ripping part of your soul. Asterin knew it would happen. You could tell - based on how close she held you that night. But, if they were going to fight for your enemy, the one who caused the deaths of your family and dear ones, you couldn’t stay. As much as you loved them, your family meant, means, everything to you. There had to be living Fae out there. Or someone willing to fight against him, otherwise he wouldn’t be raising an army. You lost track of time as you stumbled through the mountains, shifting into your animal form - a fox - for warmth and food. Days turned into weeks - or months - you barely risked going into any towns, only following the Lord of the North, and hoping you’d find the right people. 

You heard the flapping of wings, and thought the end had finally come. 

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.” You said through gritted teeth. When you saw her, you froze, mouth open in shock. She landed next to you, the rest of the thirteen, except Manon, behind her. Their Wyverns were huge, and you realized just how much of an enemy you were up against, that the Queen of Terrasen would be up against. You knew the golden hair - the witch with the band across her head - you’d spotted her in the skies. 

“We’re on the same side now.” Her voice was soft, soft enough the others looked at her with some surprise. 

You could tell she wasn’t lying. Asterin never would lie about that. You searched the faces behind you, looking for one … 

“We … we don’t know if she’s alive.” Asterin said with a tight face. Apparently they’d been searching for Manon, relentlessly, and somehow had stumbled across you - still trying to find your way back to any surviving Fae. 

“You knew I’d leave,” you whispered, and she nodded, striding the last few feet between you and pulling you into a tight hug. She introduced you to the rest of the thirteen, to her Wyvern, who tilted her head at you watching as you held your breath, before letting out what you thought was a noise of amusement. You had the night together, before they left to search for Manon again. Instinct, the small voice that had always guided you, told you it would be the last. 

-

As soon as you saw her in the skies, you knew Asterin was gone. They wouldn’t be fighting apart from each other. The rest of the thirteen were gone as well. There wasn’t time to think about it, not now, not as you ran into battle with the rest of the Fae you’d found. Or who had found you, as you made your way through the stag horns all of those months ago, following your instincts. Instead, you focused on your revenge. Against the yellow legs who’d hunted your kin stuck in animal form. To your internal shame, It took a few days before you built up the courage to approach her, finding her in the aerie with her Wyvern. 

“So you did learn to think for yourself.” Of all the words you could’ve said - that’s what came out first. 

Manon took a few steps towards you, and you watched carefully - not sure if she would try and slit your throat. Instead, she closed the space and pulled you to her chest, your arms wrapped around her, squeezing back lightly. 

You’d hugged Manon once before. She leaned into your embrace, squeezed tightly, before separating, telling you “that was nice, never do it again.” 

“Asterin,” Manon's voice choked, “told me.” 

You scribbled on the last piece of paper you had, and handed it to Asterin, telling her to give it to Manon if she found her again. 

“I’m proud of you.”

Your eyes teared. 

“Don’t cry.” Manon’s voice was sharp again, and you laughed even as the tears streamed down your face. 

-

Manon didn’t expect to see y/n alive again, not after what Asterin told her she was doing. ‘I’m proud of you,’ she wasn’t sure anyone had said those words to her before. Her face had remained cold as stone when she read it, but the rest of the thirteen noted how she tucked it deep into a pocket. This note, she would keep as long as she could. 

She pulled the paper out, now rumpled and barely legible, but handed it to her, watching how her eyes lit up, how those soft lips parted. “You kept it,” her voice was full of awe. 

“Yes,” Manon’s eyes raked over her, taking in the black smudges under her eyes, the haggardness and fatigue. 

“What will you do now?” Y/n asked hesitantly, so Manon told her everything. The Crochan’s, the western wastes, how she’d go home - bring her people home. The dream she’d had all of this years, the one goal she’d been set on. 

-

Manon, her former lover, now a Queen. A Crochan and Ironteeth Queen. Something was different about her scent, something you vaguely recognized, from someone you’d met in passing … the King of Adarlan. 

“So. Dorian Havilliard - The King of Adarlan?” Manon froze with immortal stillness, but took in the amused smile on your face and relaxed slightly. You weren’t jealous, you’d never been that type. They seemed to be equals, would be equals. “I’m messing with you, you leaned over and nudged her with your shoulder.

You shared the night together, wrapped in each other's arms for one last time. A week or so later, she set out to bring her people home, and you set to rebuild in Orynth, reunited with your surviving family.  

-

After two years in Orynth, you felt the call to return back to your home. The one nestled in the Ruhn mountains. You explained to your family how you’d lived there - how it had been your home. Become your home over the years. They understood your choice - in a way, but were reluctant to let you go, but promised to visit you - as long as you did the same. 

With your animal form, and a map, it became a lot easier to navigate your way home, back to the cabin. 

Outside, you saw a Wyvern, flopped on its belly, nose nestled in the wildflowers you planted so long ago. Abraxos. Abraxos was here, meaning … 

A White haired witch came around from the other side, her eyes as wide as yours, before something like a smile crept on her face. “I heard you left Orynth.” 

You sobbed and ran right for her, throwing yourself in her arms. Still stiff and awkward, but she ran comforting strokes up and down your back. 

-

Manon was on a visit to Terrasen, and couldn’t stop herself from inquiring after you. To see if you were still around, or where she could find you. Aelin had raised her brows, something of a smirk on the Queen’s face. “She left to go back to the Ruhn mountains a week or two ago.” 

Manon nodded stiffly, and thankfully nobody else brought up her strange question. But, for the duration of the visit she was wondering why you’d go there. Why you would leave Orynth, and the home you built yourself. But she supposed those mountains had been a home to you as well, for all of those years, and she always heard Fae feel the call to places like that. Wild ones. 

She mentally calculated the time it would take you to get there, and decided she’d be the one to greet you. She could feel Asterin whispering in her ear, to go to their female, to see her again. 

-

Manon told you more about Dorian that night. You’d never been the jealous type - and she knew that. Still, it surprised you a bit. Somehow she’d become lovers with the King of Adarlan. Of all people. She told you of the Wyverns in training, and the people from the Southern Continent, come to train with them. Things you’ve heard of in passing, but hearing them from Manon was different, about how much she’d changed, how much was different. 

-

“I’m proud of you,” you said with a smile, and Manon, again, was surprised at the words. Others had mentioned things along those lines, but you were the first to ever say the words. She wondered if that one letter you left those years ago, if that was the start of things changing.