#dorian havilliard x oc

[thewulf]

Would you please write something with Dorian Havilliard? I’m begging you, there’s nothing out there 😔✊

Maybe an angst with fluff or whatever you want is ok

Thanksss!!! 💗

King Dorian Havilliard will ALWAYS have my heart. The worst part of KOA is no closure between him and Manon like give me more!!!

But yes, I absolutely can do this for my fav King. I can come up with something or if you/anyone has anything more specific in mind please let me know :)

[riseuplosers]

“We ran our hands over our pasts — lingering at the dents and worn edges of two hearts. And when I thought he would run away, he told me that I’d never have to fight another battle alone”

[green-ville]

Remnant Pt 2

            Synopsis: She was going to die. The blade was to her throat. The identical spots where her wings were freshly stolen from bled profusely. The pain was sharp, paralyzing. It didn’t help the fear that crippled her the rest of the way, stealing even the breath from her.

            Death never came.

            Roslyn woke in a foreign land, with foreign kings and queens, and foreign problems that she wound up in. She watched the downfall of a great nation, she helped save that nation with the woman named Aelin, she had a child. She had moved on. There was nothing else to do, she didn’t know how she ended up there or how to get back to what she once considered home.

            Until she wakes up, and she’s there again.

            She had moved on. Old memories resurface. Feelings that she suppressed but never got over boiled to the surface. Revenge screamed in her mind, and Roslyn went after it.

            In her pursuit, she made her gravest mistake of all.

            When Rhysand found out his sister was alive, he sent his greatest hunter after her. It was only a matter of time before they reunited, and Roslyn had buried that part of her hundreds of years ago.

            “You used to do this?” Margareet asked, disbelief and awe lacing her words.

            Roslyn laughed, the sound with the same whimsical air as bell chimes. “Only once, mother said I was too young.” That’s what she said, but Roslyn knew what she meant, and they were two different matters. “Rhys stole me away and took me here one night,” Roslyn grinned, staring down the large mountain.

            They were bundled up, Roslyn liberating a shop of the equipment just for the two of them. They’d return them before they were ever found out, but they needed the extra layers. It had been a while since she had seen snow, let alone sled in it.

            “I broke my leg,” Roslyn said, the memory warming her. “Mother was furious.”

            Margareet looked at her with wide eyes. “Am I going to break something?”

            “Dearest,” she reminded, “you’ve survived a war. And you have wings.”

            Margareet breathed out a puff, relieved. The panic shown again; “Are you going to break something?”

            “There’s always the possibility,” Roslyn agreed, fitting her feet in the slots, “but I like to think not.” She hopped forward, teetering on the edge of the slope. “Now, remember what I taught you about this.”

            “You didn’t teach me anything! You didn’t even tell me what we were doing until now!”

            “I believe in you!”

            Roslyn tipped forward, and was off. The wind hit her hard, infiltrating her hood and ruffling the fur. There was that fear, it tightened her stomach and turned her legs to jelly, but it was gone right after.

            For the first time since they were taken, Roslyn truly felt free. Irrevocably free. Could she soar through the skies on wings on her own? No, but she was flying across the mountain right now. She commanded herself, and no one else ruled her.

            Her laugh graced the night of childish delight, and with a wavering squeal, her daughter joined her, wings flapping to push her to the edge and then over. She laughed with her mother, wings catching the air and taking her off the ground in a different way than her mother.

            Roslyn slowed for her daughter, looking back, making sure she followed, and her grin burst wide. Her daughter sped ahead, and Roslyn followed suit, swerving back and forth.

            “Look at you go! You’re amazing!” Roslyn cheered, finding an incline and catching it. She bent more at her knees and soared off the end, flying through the air.

            The world turned upside down, blood rushed the wrong direction, and the landing was soft. She cut across the open snow, feeling absolutely unstoppable.

            “There’s a drop up ahead!” Margareet cried, fear hitting again.

            “Use your wings!”

            “You don’t have wings!”

            “Don’t worry about me! I’ll be fine!”

            And she would be. Roslyn had heard Rhysand’s tales a thousand times. She could do this, nothing would stop her.

            The drop came up, Margareet reached it first by seconds. Her wings flared out, and she shot over the edge, a dusting of snow trailing after her.

            Anticipation crawled along her skin, the cold brutal air sucked into her lungs, and Roslyn followed, shoving away from the cliff at her last possible second. She flipped again, slower this time, not caring to rush it. Her hand grabbed the board beneath her feet, holding it close.

            This was what Rhysand always felt, no wonder he was so empowered. If she could have done this half as many times as he had, perhaps she would’ve had the strength to save her wings.

            She stopped her flipping, hands carried into the air as she planned her landing. It was going to be soft, there was enough snow to cushion her, it was only a matter of not caving under the fear and allowing herself to slice across the land.

            Margareet landed, wings softening the blow. She looked back, watching Roslyn and cheering as she landed, snow flashing as she swept back and forth, quickly reaching her again.

            “This is fantastic!” Margareet screamed over the roar of the wind as they slid back and forth, intertwining with each other, fastening their speeds down the long and steady slope.

            “It’s only the beginning!” Roslyn promised, and her heart dropped as a figure appeared directly in front of her. Too close for her to stop, her brain froze too long for her to swerve.

            He turned slowly as if questioning where he was. He saw her, eyes widening, and darkness encompassed him as if it still had a chance to save him. It didn’t. Roslyn slammed into him, hearing a faint scream of:

            “MOM!”

            Before the darkness stole her away too.

            The breath flew from her lungs as the world reformed again, and she slammed into the ground hard on her shoulder, rolling and rolling and rolling and SLAM!

            Her hood covered her eyes, and even then, she left them shut for a long moment. There was a shocking change from winter cold to castle cold, from frigid fresh air to crisp fresh. Her body went from no pain, to a world of pain.

            A door burst open, she heard groaning, and then shouting.

            “Azriel, by the maker, what the hell happened?!”

            “Az, are you alright?!”

            “Someone get Madja!”

            The quietest of them all belonged for her. “Roslyn?”

            Her head raised, stars bursting in her vision. Her head pounded, her leg throbbed, her shoulder screamed. Blood slid down her head, and she looked into the matching eyes of her brother.

            “Rhysand. . .If anyone lays a hand on her. . .I will soak your crops in blood and feed it to your livestock,” she cursed from the bottom of her heart, snarl painted on her lips as the crowd doubled in size not because of additional members, but because her vision replicated everyone.

            At least it did before everything went dark, pain overwhelming her and slipping her into a stormy sleep.

            ~

            Was her mother going to kill her for this? Yes. Hear her out; her mother would destroy a continent if it was Margareet in her place. At the very least, Margareet should be allowed to sneak into a mountain based home to get her back. She would take the argument in stride later, for now; get her mother back.

            Once her mother disappeared with that man, she followed right after, darkness swirling and sucking her in. She reappeared in the city they left behind five days prior. Through common sense, Margareet figured her mother to be in the House of Wind, the very place her mother said to steer clear from. If her mother said avoid, that had to be where they took her.

            Spotting it was difficult. There was a hefty amount of stairs leading up, and even then, she couldn’t necessarily sneak into it by going up the stairs. Not like she could climb that many stairs without wanting to fling herself from them.

            Margareet would have to fly, breaking her mother’s second rule.

            One: no matter what happens to me, you always run away.

            Two: never let anyone see you fly.

            Guilt wracked her to the point she was almost sick. Sick with fear and worry and stress. She had never been apart from her mother, and therefore she had everything to prove. That she could do this, that she could get her mother back and protect herself while doing it.

            Margareet would sneak in from above, and from the storm clouds rolling in, she was going to have to do it quick.

            -

            Margareet was not quick. The storm clouds beat her and she was drenched in seconds, hair clinging to her face, trousers and blouse weighing her down. Her wings beat harder as she fought higher, higher.

            Lightning flashed, blinding her, and thunder cracked a second later, deafening her too. She covered her ringing ears, stomach taut, back aching –

            She burst from the storm, rising above it with clouds trailing behind her. She breathed the icy air, now wet and frozen to the point. The moon shone on her again, still as bright as the last time she saw its crescent shape. The air felt thin, her head felt light. . .lighter. . .

            Her wings stopped flapping, hands reaching towards the sky as she fell. Lethargically, she blinked, reentering the storm, clouds blocking out all moonlight.

             A curse rattled in her head and she flipped, stomach to the ground, and angled herself towards the House of Wind, wings flaring their entire length and turning her fall into a glide. A sharp glide, really. She was almost directly above it, having hidden herself in the clouds to prevent herself from being seen.

            Her heart rammed in her chest, finding her landing point and willing courage into existence.

            She had fought in a war. Her Auntie had been captured too once and came back different.

            Margareet would not allow her mother the same punishment.

            Her wings angled differently and instead of angling a decline, they caught air, slowing her landing. She beat then, resisting the impact so that when her black covered feet finally touched down on the balcony, she was as silent as the dead.

            Her elevated breathing slowed, remembering the wise teachings of her Uncles. Her tiny build was an advantage. She was quick. No one expected a little girl to pounce. Be quick, act first, question later. Go for the neck. If you can’t get that, the knee or ankle. Anything to slow them down. Then run like hell.

            The wise words of her Auntie echoed inside her. Her name was Margareet, she would not be afraid.

            With the twist of the door handle, Margareet entered the house of wind. Nothing gave her away as the door closed behind her, quietening the gentle rise of the storm outside. Thunder cracked again, providing her drips and steps additional coverage. She removed her boots, electing to go barefoot for the sake of eradicating the noise it created from being wet.

            She was in a study of sorts, her mother wouldn’t be here. She swept through, searching for any aids, and found a tunic thrown across a chair. She grabbed it, drying her dripping hair, wiping her eyes, brushing it gently over her wings. She abandoned in back on the chair, and crept towards the door out, ear peaking out first to get a sound.

            Her eyes shut, listening carefully, and she picked up on indiscernible chatter.

            Naturally she headed towards it, without any real plan for what she would do when she got there.

            To her credit, she did make it down an entire flight of stairs, now in a different corridor, when she sensed the disturbance. She kept prowling like she hadn’t sensed it, trying to figure out why they hadn’t attacked her right away.

            With a burst of action she whirled, ducking down and aiming for the knee.

            The tree like figure evaded and she pursued, on a vicious offense of jabs and sweeps and arching stabs that he evaded every. Single. Time.

            “You rely too much on your hands,” he noticed, dropping down, sweeping her leg out from beneath her.

            She stumbled, would have fallen if it weren’t for her wings flapping. She snarled, feigning for a stab when instead, she swept her leg up with every intention of kicking him in the legs.

            Something dark grabbed onto her leg as he stepped back, and she was yanked up, falling onto her butt with a shrill of pain up her spine.

            “Your mother already tried that on me,” the shadow consumed figure admitted lightly, “forgive me for not allowing a reoccurrence.”

            She scrambled to a stand, giving herself space again. “Give me her back or I’ll cut out your heart and feed it to my ghost leopard.”

            “We mean her no harm – “

            She attacked, somersaulting across the ground and disappearing, reappearing right behind him. She shouted, a terrible decision on her part but she was used to doing that. No one was quiet in war.

            She shouted as she tried to stab her blade into his ankle. He jumped up high, she rolled onto her shoulders and kicked him in the rear when he came down.

            He stumbled a step, disappearing into his own darkness.

            Margareet stood and ran, knowing she was outmatched and figuring the best offense now was alerting her mother she was here.

            “MOTHER! MOTHER!”

            A dark tether gripped her ankle and pulled her down. Her wings flapped, trying to keep her up. It was one thing to fight on her feet, to be on the ground was harder.

            She was on the ground, screaming her head off.

            “I’m not going to hurt you! – “

            She flipped onto her back, no longer being dragged, spotting the shadow man again. She threw her dagger, or at least attempted to. Another shadow tendril grabbed her wrist – she tried with her other hand – grabbed too.

            Restrained, all but her right foot. That was absolutely useless.

            She thrashed and screamed again, pouring out her rage and hate. “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you, you piece of shit! I’ll feed your eyes to ravens – “

            “By the maker Azriel, let her go!”

            “She’s trying to kill me!”

            “You have her in restraints! We have her mother! Of course she’s trying to kill you!”

            Her restraints vanished and shadows consumed her, depositing her behind the newcomer. She shouted, kicking him behind the knees to bring him down to her level. He crumbled with a chortle of surprise, and she grabbed at his neck with one arm, tightening her hold with the second.

            On his knees before her, she glared to the man in the shadows.

            “I will have my mother,” she ordered softly, “Or you will have death.”

            “Your mother is sleeping. – No we did not drug her.”

            Her fangs bared, not believing a single thing that came from his mouth.

            “My dear, we are not your enemies,” the man she currently had a chokehold on addressed her softly, hands raised in surrender. “This is all a misunderstanding.”

            “You kidnapped my mother.”

            “Your mother is my sister.”

            Surprise hit her like a flash of lightning.

            “And I thought she died over 500 years ago,” spoken in the voice of a broken man.

            Margareet pulled him back, his hands grabbing her forearm in shock, the shadow man stepping forward in warning, but she paid it no mind. She looked at his face, brows straight and judgmental, assessing for dishonesty and reason to tighten her hold.

            Instead she found violet eyes, the same as her own.

            “Prove it,” she whispered to him.

            “You’re named after our grandmother.”

            Margareet cursed, stepping away and dropping her hold on him. “Well damn, what a greeting you made. Auntie Aelin gives me sweets, Uncle Rowan gives me piggyback rides – and you kidnap my damn mother. What the hell is wrong with you?”

            “She ran away!” He guffawed. “And Azriel didn’t mean to kidnap her, he winnowed like he’s never winnowed before,” he spared a quick glare to Azriel, “and reacted poorly when Roslyn came barreling towards him.”

            “You should terminate his position and hire someone competent.” Her uncle smiled brightly, a gleam in his violet eyes.

            “I did stop you,” Azriel commented dryly.

            “I’m a 10-year-old girl. That is not impressive.”

            “But you’re a rather impressive 10-year-old girl, not many could sneak into the House of Wind without my supposedly well trained guards spotting you first.” Another glare to Azriel.

            He sighed. “I did see her, it was a choice to not stop her. The last time I put myself in front of a female going that fast, she broke her leg. And,” he stressed the word, “I wanted to see what she would do.”

            “You broke my mothers leg?” Margareet snapped, anger revived. She pulled another dagger from her person, storming forward. “I’ll cut off your dic-“

            He vanished from sight and her Uncle rose, hands out to her. “Darling Margareet, I understand your anger. Why don’t we go see Roslyn?”

            She pivoted, dagger raised, glare fixated on him. “Understand this, Rhysand, I have a large family. I have more Aunt’s and Uncle’s than I care to count, the King of Adarlan thinks I am an angel, the Queen of Terrasen would break the world if it pleased me, and the Queen of Witches would gladly kill anyone I point my finger at.” She stepped closer to him, looking up at his unnecessary height. “If for one second I deem the best interest of my mother is not in your heart, Manon Blackbeak will tear your throat out with her iron nails. Do I make myself clear?”

            He had the audacity to smile down at her. “I want nothing but the best for my sister, and for my niece. It seems you have an arsenal of allies already, but it cannot hurt to have one more.” He rested his hand on his chest, and bowed his head. “You have the High Lord of the Night Court at your back as well, darling Margareet.”

            “Then take me to my mother.”

[multiversalfandomwriter222]

REALLLLLLL

My ancestors looking down at me as I talk about how much I love white men

[pretty-warrior-queens]

Rp Request:

Throne of glass (no spoilers past the second book)

Literate (10+ lines)

I’ll be my oc http://aminoapps.com/p/kcr01s

I’d like you to be Dorian but I don’t mind if you play someone else including oc’s

[manontrashbeak]

Every booktok sees title release: HOLY SHIT ITS HAPPENING

SJM Booklrs: k great it’s 720 pages and here’s something I started writing about nessian two years ago that I just finished see y’all in January

[oohnoniall]

Queen of Serpents || Galan Ashryver x Arya Nostariel - Prologue

He stood in front of her, eyes clear for the first time in weeks. The look on his face was enough to break her.

The unbreakable woman broken by a single gaze. Her parents would be so proud.

"How could you do this?" The Crown Prince's voice was strained, his expression tight and a glimpse of silver in his eyes. "I trusted you, Arya. You betrayed me. You betrayed all of us."

"Dorian, please," her tone was soothing as though he were no more than a petulant child. "You know that isn't true. I love you, darling."

Even as she stared at him, even as his expression began to break her she knew that this was not true. She had never loved Dorian Havilliard. He had been nothing more than her mission. One that she had so clearly failed.

He would never again trust her.

She would never be allowed into his heart. 

She had failed and she could only begin to imagine the torture that her parents would put her through. Kalthanenians did not fail.

"Leave Adarlan. You're never to set foot in my kingdom again." His knuckles turned white as he made fists. She wasn't sure if it was to control himself to keep from hurting her or from showing how much she had hurt him. "If I ever see you again, I will have you killed. Leave on the first ship. I don't care what you do then."

"Dorian, you can't be serious. This is all a misunderstanding," she didn't move to step close to him. Didn't even try to show him that he was truly wrong. She knew that she had failed. She knew that he had seen through her clever disguise.

Dorian swallowed as he looked at her, blinking back his tears of frustration. "You should leave before I change my mind."

"They'll kill me if I go back." Her left hand began to tap a gentle beat on her thigh. Her eyes going from his sapphire eyes to the piles of books beside his bed. He was always reading. It had been hard enough to pry his attentions away from those damned books. He didn't read anything interesting either. Nothing about poisons or politics. Just stuffy old history and romance.

"I don't care." He said as he stared at the door behind you. "Get out."

She knew she would never be able to convince him to allow her to stay. She knew she would never have a chance to make him see things her way. 

She did not bother to bow as she strode from the room and down the tower steps.

The last image that Dorian Havilliard had of her was the long scar on her back and the red silk of her dress clinging to her creamy thighs.

[autumnshighlady]

NAVIGATION

Introduction:

Hey everyone! You can call me Amara, and this is my fic blog! I’ve been writing since I was 14 (am 22 now) but this is the first time I’ve ever posted anything! I mostly write oneshots, but may publish a few long fics here and there! I also love writing headcanons and drabbles. Primarily, my writing consists of character x reader, but I will very occasionally write character x character. I enjoy getting asks so come chat anytime! Please read the rules before requesting anything :)

MASTERLIST 

Fandoms I’ll write for:

A Court of Thorns and Roses

Throne of Glass

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Tolkien Universe

Chicago Fire

Characters I mainly write for [I will write others, these are just the main ones]:

ACOTAR

Nesta Archeron

Eris Vanserra

Azriel

Lucien Vanserra

Emerie

Gwyn

Feyre Archeron

ToG

Aelin Galathynius

Rowan Whitethorn

Manon Blackbeak

Dorian Havilliard

Gavriel

Lorcan

Elide

Lysandra

MCU

Loki Laufeyson

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers

Natasha Romanoff

Matt Murdock

Carol Danvers

Wanda Maximoff

Tony Stark

Thor

Valkyrie

Tolkien

Thranduil

Aragorn

Galadriel

Elrond

Maedhros

Feanor

Celegorm

Maglor 

Fingolfin

Fingon

Ecthelion

Glorfindel

Sauron

Melkor

Finrod

Chicago Fire

Stella Kidd

Kelly Severide

Characters I will NOT write for:

ACOTAR:

people like Amaranthe, Ianthe, Beron, etc.

Amren

Rhysand

ToG:

Arrobyn

MCU:

Peter Parker

Sharon and Peggy Carter

Clint Barton

Tolkien:

Maeglin

Eol

Ambarussa

Celeborn

Chicago Fire:

Sylvie Brett

Matt Casey

RULES

I will write smut, but I will not write for the following: pregnancy tropes, CNC, breeding kink, depression/SH/ED/suicide, abuse/rape/torture

please do not ask me why I will not write certain characters, I have my reasons and would not like to start drama by stating those reasons

keep your requests within the fandoms listed

there are character’s I’m more likely to write than others, if you’re unsure just ask!

do not repost, translate, or reproduce anything without asking me first

if you’re under 18, please be aware I do write NSFW - I’d rather minors not be on my blog but obviously I have no way or knowing or controlling it

if you want to give feedback keep in mind I am fragile haha, just don’t be harsh about it please!

I will not write with anyone’s oc’s but my own, which will rarely happen as I mostly do x reader

[fenrysisbae]

Heir of Dimensions: Ten, part 2

It was late before they even saw her again, a dead animal dragged behind her and she left it in front of Fenrys to clean, as it was his turn to cook that night. Gavriel looked at her before standing and gestured for her to follow. The two were silent until they came to the edge of the little pond she had washed in a few days prior. He sat and she sat right beside him. "Allana, is there anything you want to talk about?" He glanced ot her blank face before she nodded slightly. "Do you know what mates feel like?" Her knees drew to her chest. He raised an eyebrow, "I'm not entirely sure, but I know what love feels like. Why do you ask?" "Because I'm... I'm not entirely sure, but I think, just think, that Fenrys might be my mate..." Gavriel raised an eyebrow, "Well, when did you come ot this conclusion?" "When he pinned me. Gavriel, don't tell him. I don't want to just go back on my words that I said that I'm leaving. Once I find a way home, I'm definitely going back. He deserves his freedom of choice-" "Allana, it might be better to tell him. You two are destined to be together." He frowned and touched her head. Her eyes lifted to his, "Gavriel, you've heard what he's said about me. It's fine, I deserve it." The older man sighed, "It's your right to tell him, but don't keep it from him. You will tear each other apart if you just keep going on like this." "Fine," Her cheeks puffed, "but you don't get to tell him anything." "Tell who what?" Came the familiar voice of Fenrys, causing Allana to clam up. "Tell the poor sap who's my mate anything." She snapped quickly. Fenrys snorted, "You're an insane little girl." "Is dinner ready or are you here being a neglectful ass?" She snapped. "By the gods, yes. Are you on your bleed?" His voice dropped. Allana stood and turned to him with bright red cheeks, "You two go eat. I'm going to wash the blood off my skin seeing as you have no respect for boundaries, Fenrys. Gavriel, please make sure he doesn't try anything." The two males left and she stripped off the clothes before stepping into the water. Her palms brushed against the crusted blood before she heard another body entering the water. "You underestimate the hearing of Fae males, Allana." The voice brought chills to her spine and she attempted to move away before an arm stopped her in her tracks.

[thewriterwithnoplan]

Still Fighting (Part 6)

Summary: Asherah has had a hard life, but lately it’s been looking up. After being adopted by the Ytger’s Asherah is off to Rifthold. But the story doesn’t end there does it? No there’s magic, tragic backstories and secret identities. So who exactly is Asherah? Pairing: Aedion x OC Word Count: 1885 Warnings: None.

Asherah's POV

I was making my way to Celaena's room, Ress in tow. Being a 'princess' I was now being watched like a hawk at all times. The only times I'd been left alone was at night, sleeping or in the tunnels. Celaena has been released from her cell a week ago but I knew she didn't need company. It was time to lure her out though. Arriving I was surprised to see Chaol sitting by the door. He looked unkempt as if he'd just been sitting there for days.

"She's not eating," His voice was hollow. "Just sits there all day. I tried going in, she had me kicked out."

I blinked, examining his tired expression and the four healing scars down his face. I hoped they were permanent, I hoped he would have to live with it forever. Like Celaena would live with the loss, like I would when I had time to grieve.  I stepped over his outstretched legs, closing the door behind me before Ress could protest.

I gazed upon her pale form sitting before the fire. She didn't move, even as I was sure she'd heard the door opening. Celaena just stared blankly into the fire, still in her sleeping gown. She didn't seem to care who I was, not turning to so much as glance my way. Whether I was here to kill or feed her, she didn't care.

"Celaena," I placed a hand on her shoulder, looking over into the fire myself. "I came to tell you that he's dead. Grave's dead, he suffered for killing her. The King knows that Minister Mullison paid him."

She didn't ask for an explanation, putting together the facts. Grave had killed Nehemia and I'd killed him. Celaena turned to look at me, I tore my gaze from the flames staring right back. It was a few minutes before she opened her mouth, before closing it.

"I know," I knelt beside the chair, resting my head on her shoulder.

"You haven't grieved." I stiffened at her words and she noticed, leaning her head against my own.

"When it's over," I whispered. "We can grieve together."

"Did you go to the funeral?" I shook my head. No, I hadn't. That day I'd locked myself in the tunnels, wandering aimlessly hoping the horrid smell could distract me. It didn't. "We'll visit her together then. When it's over." She squeezed my hand.

"It's not over yet though," I stood up, straitening my dress, the one I'd grappled from her grip. "You have things to do still. Elena has riddles for you to solve and Archer Finn is still out there. The King is getting restless too. Say the word and I'll have it all done but..."

"I should do it for her," She finished my sentence. There was silence for a moment.

"I want you to have this," I passed her a piece of parchment. A drawing I'd done almost a month ago. Celaena throwing a stick for Fleetfoot as she talked with Nehemia, both of them smiling widely.

"Thank you," She didn't smile but I knew she was grateful. She tried to stand but I shook my head and pushed her back into her seat.

"Tomorrow," I made my way to the door, placing a palm on the doorknob. "And once everything has been done, we leave."

"Leave?" She turned in her seat.

"I've taken a place in the King's court as Eyllwe's new ambassador," I met her eyes. "Your next targets are the Royal Family of Wendlyn. I'm going with you to stage an alliance between the Ashryvers and Ytgers so we can attend the ball, that's when you're expected to kill them. So if there's something you need to do, do it soon. Today rest and tomorrow we prepare."

"You love the Ashryvers." She pointed out.

"Not the ones in Wendlyn." I paused, hand on the door handle and turned back to her, "I'll make the plan-"

"I'll break the rules-"

"You swing the sword-"

"You lift the shield." I almost caught the ghost of a smile passing over her features. Through those usually vibrant eyes.

She didn't smile though, only whispered, "Tomorrow then." Her voice slightly distracted as she retreated back into her thoughts. Good, she was thinking again. That's a step up from staring blankly, right?

I left the room, Chaol hadn't left still sitting there looking miserable as ever. I nodded to Ress, asking him to lead me to the Crown Prince's chambers. Apparently, he had no care about safety and lived in a glass tower. I left the guard with his brethren at the bottom of the stairwell, ascending to my friend's room. I'd never been here before, I didn't think many had from the look the guards gave me. It took merely introducing myself by my full title to be left alone.

I had to knock several times for the Prince to answer the door. Was he avoiding someone? Most likely me if I were being honest. My suspicions were proved true when the door opened. And almost shut on my face. Quick reflexes had me flinging my foot out and wedging the door open once more.

"Dorian," I pushed in, he ignored me going back to a book laid on his bed. Books littered the room, the couch, desk, even the floor. Piled up in corners, overflowing bookshelves. Markers and paper notes stuck from between the pristine pages.

"I don't want to talk to you," He didn't look up from the book, a volume I'd recommended in fact. "I know what you did. I was there when the gift was delivered to my father. The men in the court were terrified when he announced it was from Adarlan's Shadow. Did my father order the head or was it for fun?"

"Did he not read the note to you?" He set the book down and shook his head. I recited,

"To the tyrant king of Erilea,

I found the murderer. His name is Grave.

Minister Mullison employed him.

Keep his blood money for yourself, I don't want it.

Rot in hell. Signed, Adarlan's Shadow."

"Short and brutal," Dorian rolled his eyes. "Your point?"

"Grave killed Nehemia," I sat at the edge of his bed and sighed, letting my posture deflate. Quietly I said, "I wasn't given the same training as Celaena, I can't just do something like that and move on. I've only ever killed a handful of people. You don't need to lecture me, the blood is on my hands, I know."

"How do I know you're not lying?" He asked, voice low.

"I've never lied to you."

"We both know that's not true," He shook his head. "You trained at the Assassin's Keep, you're not a Ytger are you?"

"Not by blood, no." I admitted but quickly put in, "The Ytgers adopted me though when..."

"When what?" He narrowed his eyes when I didn't answer. "How am I supposed to trust you if you won't tell me anything?"

"Can I trust you, Dorian?" I huffed. "Don't think I haven't noticed the weird things happening around you. So don't act like you've been completely honest."

He stiffened, "What do you mean?"

"Do you or do you not have magic, Dorian Havilliard?" The air ran cold, he was scared. "Calm down, you're freezing the room. I won't tell anyone."

"How did you know?"

"You mean, when did I realise?" I chuckled. "You stopped Celaena from stabbing Chaol."

"Does she know?" He seemed to catch on.

"She suspects but she doesn't know." He sat beside me, taking one of my hands in his.

"I need you to be honest with me. How are you a Ytger, a shadow and Celaena's friend?" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "None of it... None of it matches up."

"If I tell you this," I gave him a hard stare. "It'll be a secret you can never share, a burden from now until the grave. No one can ever know that I told you anything, not Chaol, not Celaena and especially not your father."

He blinked a few times, taking it all in, "You can trust me."

"Celaena and I were born and raised as children in Terrasen, under different names. Before the kingdoms fall that is." He blinked, the first sentence alone, surprising him, boy was he in for it. "When the kingdom fell to Adarlan's rule and both mine and her parents were killed, we left. Arobynn Hamel found us and trained us to be shadow and assassin for most of our lives. The training was brutal and I disagreed with many of the teachings but Celaena was younger, more susceptible. I knew she wouldn't survive on the run, so we stayed. Celaena and I were more loyal to each other then Arobynn and it threatened him. So he..."

Dorian gave my hand a squeeze, understanding my hesitance and met it with a comforting smile. I wondered how such a wonderful young man had grown under the cruel rule of his father. Like a rose growing between weeds, it had thorns but was beautiful none the less. He'd make a fine King one day, this man I trusted.

"He had me disposed of." Dorian's expression promptly dropped. "I was sent on a mission alone,  as a Shadow, I'd never been trained to take out targets alone. And that was Arobynn's point - I was caught. It was only dumb luck that nobody knew I was Adarlan's Shadow. The lord I'd targeted took me before the King - Shadow or not - and I was... I was sent to Calaculla."

"Does Celeana know?" He asked carefully. I shook my head and that was all he needed to wrap me in his arms.

"It took two years before the Ytgers attempted to free some of the rebel slaves," I mumbled into his shoulder, glassy-eyed even as I'd promised myself not to cry. "I remember the numbers; Sixty-two escaped, nine of which died within the week and twenty-three were killed during the escape - slaves and guards alike. Most who escaped had people still outside, friends and family or homes to return to. When the Queen found out about my having nowhere else to go, my surviving for so long... They took me in. I changed my name from Asherah Sardothian to Asherah Ytger. Being a princess nobody dared question my paler skin or green eyes."

"Wow," He held a hand against his forehead. "That's a lot."

"There are other things," I shook my head. "But they can wait for now."

"Why, may I ask, haven't you told Celaena about Calaculla? She spent time in Endovier, she'd understand."

I pressed my lips into a grim line. "The night before I was captured, I tried to convince her that we needed to leave. We'd leant all we could from the Assassin's Guild and with our reputations, we were gaining enemies fast - she wanted to stay. I couldn't leave without her. She'll understand what the camps were like but not... She'll hold herself accountable - for not leaving - she doesn't need that."

"Everything you do is for her," He shook his head. "You need to look after yourself too you know."

"She's all I have left." I gave him a grim, sorrowful smile.

"Not anymore."

[asoulofstars]

SHIPPING INFO     //     answer  the  following  for  your  muse(s)  so  people  know  how  shipping  works  on  your  blog.   REPOST.   don’t reblog.

1.   WHAT’S  YOUR  OTP  FOR  YOUR  MUSE? : Oh, boy. I really love a lot of ships, and I don’t think I could choose just ONE. Especially because Riona’s an OC, so I can ship her with legit anyone. I’m gonna go with Riona x Aidan, though, because that’s my ship for her in my original world she’s from.

2.   WHAT  ARE  YOU  WILLING  TO  RP  WHEN  IT  COMES  TO  SHIPPING? : Basically anything.

3.   HOW  LARGE  DOES  THE  AGE  GAP  HAVE  TO  BE  TO  MAKE  IT  UNCOMFORTABLE?: This would depend on how old Riona was, but I don’t ship with minor muses (doing childhood friends to lovers is one thing, as it happens over time). And it also depends on if she’s a faerie or not. But, if she’s a human, then about 7.5 years is as large as I’d go in either direction.

4.   ARE  YOU  SELECTIVE  WHEN  SHIPPING? : Nope. Just talk to me about it, because I’ll ship basically anything. Nice thing about being an OC.

5.   HOW  FAR  DO  STEAMY  MOMENTS  HAVE  TO  GO  BEFORE  THEY’RE  CONSIDERED  NS.FW? : I generally just tag things if I know it’s headed that way, because I want to keep things safe for other people on the dash.

6.   WHO  ARE  OTHER  MUSES  YOU  SHIP  YOUR  MUSE  WITH? : I have shipped with a lot of people. From the MCU: Thor, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Nathan Romanoff (genderbent Natasha), and Fandral (which is my mainverse ship). From other tv shows: Sawyer from LOST and Derek Morgan from Criminal Minds. Books: Dorian Havilliard, Cal Calore, Rhysand. And then Lucifer, but an OC version of him. Not the Supernatural dude. And then a weird platonic but also they’re attracted to each other thing with another OC, Luke.

7.   DOES  ONE  HAVE  TO  ASK  TO  SHIP  WITH  YOU? : I mean, please talk to me about it. Don’t force a ship on me.

8.   HOW  OFTEN  DO  YOU  LIKE  TO  SHIP? :

I love shipping, but I’m also all for keeping things platonic.

9.   ARE  YOU  SHIP  OBSESSED  OR  SHIP  MORE - OR - LESS? : Both. I get REALLY obsessed with ships once they’re there, but I won’t push for it.

10.   ARE  YOU  MULTISHIP? : Definitely.

11.   WHAT  IS  ( ARE )  YOUR  FAVORITE  SHIP  (S)  IN  YOUR  CURRENT  FANDOM? : Um, since my mainverse is MCU, I’ll do that: Thor/Jane, Riona/Fandral

12.   FINALLY,  HOW  DOES  ONE  SHIP  WITH  YOU? : Just communicate with me, tbh. Ask. Drop hints. Just. Lemme know if you think it could be a thing, and we can explore it.

tagged by/stolen from: @analyticallyminded tagging: Anyone who wants to!

[riseuplosers]

yulemas

(chapter 16 complete rewrite pt 2)

𝐷𝜎𝑟𝜄𝛼𝜋

CHANDELIERS SPARKLED LIKE A THOUSAND STARS, their crystals catching the flicker of the burning candles housed beneath.

Glancing at the burning flames, he could have sworn he saw them flicker. Dancing and spinning despite the closed windows.

As if welcoming something.

But then again, he was working on his second glass for the night and perhaps his mind was already slipping.

In the long hours he'd graced the halls, he'd greeted every noble who'd walked up to him, somehow avoiding Kaltain who'd been trying to get her claws in him for months now.

A feat in itself, truly.

Princess Nehemia sat with his mother, discussing what could only be tedious things, if only from the princesses bored glare.

He found his eyes moving across the crowd, over the chatter and mingling of nobles who hadn't a care in the world. Nobles who had no clue of the darkness outside their gates.

At the horror that lived within.

He was searching, he realized as he scowled at an official that had stepped in his way.

Searching.

Drifting. 

Expecting.

But for what, he couldn't bring himself to understand. 

Someone gasped, breaking his train of thoughts. 

He turned, looking for the cause of the commotion, nearly spilling the liquid in his glass in the process.

Celaena Sardothien stood atop the stairs. Even with the mask, he recognized her. The familiar arrogant swagger the assassin made as she waltzed down the stairs had him shaking his head in amusement though his eyes stayed patiently behind her, at the dark entryway that was left cold and empty.

"Who is that?" breathed a young courtier beside him as he tilted his head.

Half expecting the second sister to come trailing behind her in equal finery and jewels, he watched as the assassin made her way further into the room.

With each step she took, he came to the realization that perhaps her counterpart wasn't joining. 

He frowned, twirling the sparkling champagne in deep thought as his jaw clenched in a familiar emotion he begrudgingly called disappointment.

Celaena looked at no one as she descended the staircase. The Queen of Adarlan stood to see the late arrival, Nehemia also rising from her seat beside her.

She reached the bottom of the stairs, and Dorian took a step forward, questions pressing against his tongue.

But someone had already arrived, and Dorian clenched his shoulders in annoyance as she smiled and bowed to Chaol. His friend extended a hand. Celaena blinked before taking it.

The crowd began chattering as Chaol led her from the stairs, and they disappeared into the throng. 

Whatever conversation they were about to have, it wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Quite an entrance I'd say," a light voice called from beside him.

He jumped, nearly spilling his drink for the second time that night.

Miandia merely raised a perfect brow, silver mask doing anything but hiding her identity from him.

She added quietly with a smirk, "A perfect distraction." 

She had to have known the effect she had on him, it would be the only explanation as she stood a hand reach away, pink lips pressed into a mischievous smirk.

Her dress appeared to have been made of the heavens, dark blue spilling from around her thin waist. Whirls of crystals cascaded out and around her like brilliant stars glittering in the sky.

Her soft lips were pulled up, inviting him to do wicked things, but his eyes looked down to her neck, his mind spiraling farther and faster than he'd meant.

Swallowing hard, he blinked.

She had no idea, did she?

No idea how she silenced every thought within his mind. How a mere smile could make the blood within his veins fucking sing

"You look radiant," he said at last, finding his voice.

Reaching for her hand, he kissed it, ignoring the rest of the room as it fell away.

"You clean up quite nicely yourself," she replied, reaching out to fluff his coat as soon as he stood straight.

She gave him a blinding smile and he nearly forgot his own name.

Glancing around the room, she spun, smiling gently as she recognized Nox dancing with a court lady. 

Further into the room, under shadows and dark crevices stood her sister rolling her eyes and arguing adamantly with the Captain.

"You're not supposed to be here," he observed.

She flushed, brushing at her skirts, "And yet every other champion is? I hardly see how that's fair. What if —"

"I didn't mean it as an insult."

He grabbed another glass and handed it to her as a servant walked by, tray held high and sturdy as regulation demanded. Her fingers curled against the glass, white gloves concealing scars and calluses he had grown to cherish.

A humorous smile stretched across the prince's lips as he straightened, leaning over the thief of Adarlan, the scent of expensive soap, fresh lemons and rain consuming his senses.

"I was about to leave when your sister made all that fuss. For a short moment I had thought you wouldn't follow her endeavors of ignoring everything we'd instructed you both not to do."

"Are you disappointed, princeling?"

Her eyes pinned him. Heated. Daring. As if she knew every wicked thought within his heart and mind.

He hummed as his eyes roamed across her face, her neck, her dress. 

Perhaps it was the look of undeniable intelligence in her eyes, or the golden hair that was decorated in a crown of jewels, but he couldn't help but think that he would very much like to put her on the throne next to him.

Quick wits and an even sharper tongue, she'd make for a fine queen. With wicked amusement and glorious charm, she'd have the people eating out of the palm of her hands before they realized it.

Like she'd done to him. 

"I could never be disappointed in you, lovely Mia."

She flushed then, cheeks darkening as heat flooded her neck. He felt utterly satisfied at that moment.

"You're insufferable," she hissed, yet her tone held no malice.

"You say insufferable and all I hear is desirable."

She swatted his arm, glowering. Her eyes trailed towards somewhere in the room, her scowl deepening. 

But beneath her scowl, he could see concern.

Fear even.

It caused him to crane his neck. But he couldn't see anything for her distress. Couldn't find what had caught her eyes. 

"Can I ask you a question?"

He raised a brow at that, "I'm an open book. Ask away."

She made a face, as if she hadn't thought that far to think of a question.

After a moment, she asked curiously, "Why aren't you married yet?"

That made him start.

"Married? I'm nineteen!"

"Yes, but you're the Crown Prince."

He crossed his arms. "Ask another question."

"No, you said you were an open book," with a pointed look, she grinned, "I want to hear your answer."

"This is entrapment," He proclaimed in protest. "I was unprepared for this question."

"I somehow doubt that." Mia tilted her head.

Cute.

He blinked slowly, trying to memorize every curve and line of her face.

"If I tell you, you musnt' tell a soul."

She ran a finger over her lips.

"Don't laugh."

That made her soften, her eyes curious.

"I won't even judge."

His heart hammered in his chest. In his ears.

Wyrd, he'd never felt this way before and it made him sick.

"I'm not married," he said softly, "because I can't stomach the idea of marrying a woman inferior to me in mind and spirit. It would mean the death of my soul."

She was quiet for a moment. Considering.

"Have you ever found someone that wasn't inferior?"

He blinked, almost expecting her to tease him. But there was a sincere look in her eyes.

How could he tell her yes?

How could he tell her that she was everything he'd ever dreamed of and more?

How could he when she was fighting for her life?

When everything hung in the balance?

No relationship, no feelings, would ever amount to the pain and heartache she'd ever gone through. Would ever go through.

He snuffed out the flame that had begun to sing in his heart. Stomping and smashing it to pieces.

Miandia Sardothien was not, nor ever could be, his. 

To love, cherish and hold, she would never be his.

He knew that.

He knew the gods knew that.

Deep down, he knew that she knew it as well.

"You once told me you enjoyed dancing," he held out a hand, blinking past the ache in his heart, ignoring her question, "Dance with me?"

With a sigh that was far too put-on to be genuine, she took his hand.

"I suppose..." She said finally, "Would be a shame if this dress went to waste."

The warmth of her fingers sent a jolt through him and he quickly masked it with a charming smile. There was a knowing look in her eyes, one that said she knew he was changing the subject but would let it go.

He grabbed her untouched glass, pushing it onto another passing tray before leading her towards the crowd of dancers.

"Try to keep up," She gave a smile as he slid one hand to her waist, the other holding hers firmly. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, her touch light.

"I suppose I should be telling you that."

A challenging glare.

"We'll see."

Paying no attention to the whispers or the sharp intake of air that he recognized as Chaols anger rising, they began to waltz.

The music shifted to a lively waltz, and Dorian spun her into the first step. She moved effortlessly, her gown sweeping around her like water. They drew glances from the other dancers, but Dorian barely noticed.

His world had narrowed to the woman in his arms.

With a simple strum, the musicians had them enraptured in a spell.

Every crescendo and beat speaking of dreams and fantasy.

"I meant it you know," He said softly, lowering his eyes to her own. "When I said you look radiant tonight. Like the stars were made as a mere accessory to your beauty."

Her smile widened, her chin dipping. "I attribute most of it to Lillian's fine workmanship. Wryd knows how long it took her to stuff me into this thing." She looked down at her waistline where his hand laid, "I don't even know how I'm supposed to eat in this. Much less breathe."

She looked up with a twinkle in her eyes, surveying the crowd.

"I think it's beautiful. The music." She swayed softly, "I never thought I'd hear another symphony."

And that broke his heart.

The tenderness in her voice. The sincerity. The words she wasn't saying.

Never thought I'd live to hear music again. Much less enjoy it.

"My mother chose them," Dorian felt his throat tighten as she tilted her head, "She felt they were tragically beautiful." 

"Tragically?"

He pressed his lips together. A feather of a touch against his arm.

"The music they play tell a story. Of the gods and warriors. Of love lost and forgotten dreams."

"Perhaps one day you'll tell me those stories," she gave a wry grin.

Was she flirting with him?

His head hurt thinking about it. 

She moved her hand from his shoulder to play with his lapel.

A part of him thought she'd pull him down by his collar, another part wished it. 

Though all she did was flick of an invisible piece of lint with a smile, eyes sharp with wicked amusement as if she knew his thoughts. 

When the song came to a close, Dorian smiled brilliantly, taking a step back to bow low before the thief in front of him.

Grasping her hand, he gave another kiss. 

"You dance well," Dorian mused, standing straight.

"I did tell you I liked to dance."

"You did indeed. Tell me, thief, where did you learn to dance so gracefully?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, princeling."

Mia's brows rose and that was when he realized something had caught her attention. He lifted his chin to see a familiar pair of eyes glaring at them in hatred. 

His thief raised three fingers, wiggling them in a sort of taunting wave. 

"You are a menace," he chuckled. "She won't respond well to that."

"It isn't my fault she's as interesting as a rock." Rolling her shoulders, Mia gave Kaltain one last smirk before turning back to him, "Besides, I've more important things to do than bother with her. You don't suppose your captains loosened up yet, do you?"

There seemed to be a permanent vein threatening to explode across his friends neck, even when Dorian raised a brow as he caught his eyes. 

"I suppose Chaol is less thrilled than I at your appearances."

"Judging from Celaena scowl, that is an understatement." She gave him a crooked smile, "I suppose its my turn to rescue her. Until next time, prince."

And then she did something unexpected. She stepped close, leaning atop her toes to plant a soft kiss against his cheek. His heart roared, imploding against itself. 

He could hardly see and register it as she sauntered away.

"I'll be waiting...." he murmured as she disappeared into the crowd, "Always."

[riseuplosers]

yulemas

(chapter 16 complete rewrite pt 1)

THE TWINS AWOKE ON YULEMAS MORNING TO A SILENT ROOM. Mia rolled over but something got in her way. 

It was crinkly and harsh against her face, and had the distinct odor of—

"Candy!"

"Celaena don't inhale them, you cow!"

With a shrug and glowing eyes, Celaena pulled out a handful of sweets.

Mia couldn't help but let out a pearly laugh, "Here, try this one, it tastes better."

One by one, they chewed through the assortment of flavors and fanciful sweets. They emptied the contents of the bag onto the bed, ignoring the dunes of sugar that poured out with it, and surveyed the land of goodness before them.

"Someone," Celaena said in between chews, "is very good to us."

"Miss Celaena! Miss Miandia" Philippa exclaimed from the doorway, gaping as Lillian died of laughter behind her.

Mia choked on a chocolate piece as Celaena cried, "Happy Yulemas you two! Care for a candy?"

Philippa stormed toward the twins. "Happy Yulemas indeed! Look at this bed! Look at this mess!"

The twins giggled.

"Your teeth are red!" Philippa cried at Celaena and Mia let out a boisterous laugh. "And you! Your teeth are black!" She reached for the hand mirror that Celaena kept by her bed and held it for both assassins to see.

"Damn those sugar suckers!"

"Yes," Philippa snapped. "And that's chocolate all over your mouth. Even my grandson doesn't eat his candy like this!"

Celaena laughed. "You have a grandson?"

"Yes, and he can eat his food without getting it on the bed, on his teeth, and on his face!"

Mia pushed back the covers, sugar spraying into the air, "Have a candy, Philippa."

"It's seven in the morning." Philippa swept the sugar into her cupped palm. "You'll make yourself sick."

"Oh, let them be 'Lippa. Goddess knows how long since they've enjoyed sweets." Lillian went to the windows and began opening the curtains.

Philippas frown deepened before she gave a small grin.

"Happy Yulemas you two," she said.

They both grinned widely.

"Come," the servant clucked. "Let's get you both dressed—the ceremony begins at nine."

Philippa bustled toward the dressing room, and the twins watched her and Lillian work, thankful to at least have caring ladies.

─────────

THEY SAT IN A PEW in the back of the spacious temple, both determined to keep their mouths closed.

With stained teeth, a simple glance at each other would have them erupting into another bout of laughter.

Chaol had dined to sit in between them, as if to form a barrier between their rowdiness.

Celaena stood up to glance over the crowd of people, brows furrowing as Chaol hissed at her to sit back down.

The High Priestess walked onto the stone platform and raised her hands above her head. The folds of her midnight-blue robe fell around her, and her white hair was long and unbound. An eight-pointed star was tattooed upon her brow in a shade of blue that matched her gown, its sharp lines extending to her hairline.

"Welcome all, and may the blessings of the Goddess and all her gods be upon you."

Her voice echoed across the chamber to reach even those in the back.

Mia blinked slowly, finding her heart quickening.

It had been years since she'd attended anything of this sort, and as the High Priestess lowered her arms and stared at the crowd, she made herself still.

So utterly still.

She often visited the temples down by the waterway. As if that could help save her damned soul.

A dirty, hole in the wall temple that only few ever attended.

But Sam had shown it to her and she'd always gone when the nightmares had gotten too bad. Too vivid.

Chaol whispered something harsh to Celaena who had begun to squirm in her seat. Mia tried to not pay them any mind.

"Today," the priestess said, "is the day on which we celebrate the end and the beginning of the great cycle. Today is the day on which the Great Goddess gave birth to her firstborn, Lumas, Lord of the Gods. With his birth, love was brought into Erilea, and it banished the chaos that arose from the Gates of the Wyrd."

The priestess went on with her sermon, speaking of the Great Goddess and the significance of Lumas. On the reason they celebrated Yulemas.

The program hadn't even reached halfway through the duration before Mia had noticed Celaena and Chaol had fallen asleep.

Trying to keep herself from laughing, Mia fiddled with the gloves of her hands, trying to keep warm from the winter breeze that seemed to billow through the chamber.

It wasn't until Mia realized that the priestess was finishing her sermon when she nudged Chaol with her elbow.

Hard.

He shot up, eyes wide, reaching for where his sword should be. Then he realized where he was, whispering harshly at Celaena to wake up.

"How long was I asleep?" she whispered. He didn't respond. "How long was I asleep?" she asked again, and noticed a hint of red in his cheeks. "You were asleep, too?"

"Until you began drooling on my shoulder."

"Such a self-righteous young man," she cooed, and he poked her leg.

"Pay attention."

Mia fought the smile from off her lips, trying to not show them her amusement.

A choir of priestesses stepped off the platform. An organ sounded, and everyone leaned to stare down the aisle for the procession of the gods.

The sound of pattering footsteps filled the temple, and the congregation stood. Each blindfolded child was no more than ten years old, and though they looked rather foolish dressed in the costumes of the gods, there was something charming about it.

Every year, nine children were chosen. If a child stopped before you, you received the blessings of the god and the small gift the child carried as a symbol of the god's favor.

Farnor, God of War, stopped at the front row near Dorian, but then moved to the right, across the aisle, to give the miniature silver sword to Duke Perrington.

Not surprising.

Clad in glistening wings, Lumas, God of Love, strode past them.

Deanna, Goddess of the Hunt and Maidens, approached. 

Celaena shifted from one foot to the other, standing at the aisle seat. Dread filled her expression when the girl stopped before her and removed the blindfold.

The girl smiled at Celaena and reached to touch the assassin's forehead.

"May Deanna, the Huntress and Protector of the Young, bless and keep you this year. I bestow upon you this golden arrow as a symbol of her power and good graces." The girl bowed as she extended the slender arrow. 

Mia reached across Chaol to nudge Celaena's shoulder, her sister taking the arrow.

"Yulemas blessings to you," the girl said, and Celaena nodded her thanks. The girl bounded away.

With a shrug, Celaena handed the arrow to Chaol. "I suppose I'm not allowed to have this."

Chaol caught her eye, one that Mia returned with a glare, daring him to take it. Chaol put the arrow back in Celaena's lap.

"I wouldn't want to test the gods."

Celaena smiled. 

[riseuplosers]

you're lucky you're cute.

(chapter eight added/updated scene pt 2)

Thoughtlessly, she ran her fingers across the spin of the book and began to ponder. 

The story had been about a young princess and thief, one that had taught about freeing oneself from pain.

From letting go of hurt.

She'd allowed herself to feel the hurt for years.

To feel the death of her parents, the wet nightclothes of an eight year old girl as she fled for her life.

The anguish of her lost name and identity, all those cold nights and even harsher winters in that godforsaken basement.

Now she felt the death of Sam, the tears and horror of the salt mines.

Celaena had once spilled a bottle of salt, a simple accident that had scattered the mineral onto Mia's arms. 

She'd spent the entire night scrubbing away at her skin because she could still feel it — could still feel the salt as it rubbed into her open wounds, finding its way into her soul.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to let it go. 

Didn't want to let any of it go.

The anger that came with her memories, the anguish and terror, it had made her who she was.

It had fanned the flames of her existence and pushed her further than she could have ever gone.

Had taught her long lessons of survival, of triumph and courage.

That anger and hurt had given her one more reason to trust none, only seeking comfort and trust from Celaena.

Gripping the book tighter, she leaned against the stone balancing rails, ignoring the click of crossbows that threatened to shoot if she were to jump over.

"I dare to ask if you're brooding."

"I dare ask why you walk in as if it were your own rooms," She rolled her eyes, though she found it held less disdain than she had anticipated. 

Turning her chin, she felt her lips curl as Dorian took up a spot next to her.

"And if I said I wished to see you again?" He gave a smile that was anything but innocent.

"I'd question your sanity," she clicked her tongue, "but judging from the way you so casually stroll into a renowned assassins room, I suppose there isn't much to question."

His smile grew crooked, not that she turned to look. She could feel him shift from beside her, eyes staring into the side of her head. 

"Quite the mouth on you, don't you? Someone should teach you what to do with it."

"I seem to remember you being fond of my tongue," her lips curled, "does the courtesy not extend to my lips?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she realized he was still staring at her, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

With one look, she'd be a mess, all pretense of confidence gone.

Dorian moved closer, placing a hand atop the railing near her own. His fingertip danced across the edge of her bookmark but it was to his forearm she found her gaze.

Stop. Wyrd, fucking stop.

Blinking hard, she lifted her eyes back to the horizon, heart thundering as he said against her ear, "Can't I enjoy both?"

Her hand shot out instantly, smacking him backwards as she turned away from the railing. 

With a thundering heart, she glared at him, trying to mask the red no doubt decorating her face.

"You're lucky you're cute, otherwise I'd kill you."

His eyes widened, a red tint burning his ears.

"You think I'm cute?"

She held up her index finger and thumb, pinching them together in front of her face. He laughed loudly, causing her to smile. Dorian reached forward, prying her fingers open.

"I think you're lying," he then took her other hand and pulled her arms apart. "I think you like me this much."

"You know what I said about the truth, princeling."

He rolled his eyes, though his smile stayed on his lips. The playful air between them buzzed, Mia realized. 

Whatever tension left from the test that morning had left, making her feel light.

As if he could hear her own thoughts about the competition, Dorian said quietly, "That was brave of you today. Helping your competitor."

For a moment, she could have sworn there was something else in his eyes. Something more he wished to say. But when he offered nothing else, she said in reply, "It's what I would have wanted done for me."

Dorian stayed quiet after that. 

His eyes were tired but he still grinned at her, ruffled hair framing his face. She felt something in her start but she ignored it and said, "Tell me why you're really here, princeling."

He raised a brow, straightening the collar of his shirt. "Is it really so bad for me to check on you?"

Her fingers stilled.

No, she wanted to say, not in the least.

Slowly breathing out, she frowned.

Instead of answering, she said quietly, "I heard the champion that didn't show up for the test today was found dead in the stairwell."

Wind picked up her hair and she brushed it to the side. Turning, she found he was already looking at her. He blinked when catching her eyes.

"Of course you would already know," he said quietly, mostly to himself before a tiny smile appeared.

"How did it happen?"

"Chaol believes it to be an animal. Whatever killed the champion had virtually mauled and dismembered him."

"That makes two murders in the span of a few weeks." Her frown deepened, "And you?"

A perfectly shaped brow rose on his face, "What do I think? I tend to agree with my Captain."

"But?"

He shrugged. "There isn't a but. Just that I have this feeling. Like there's something we're missing."

Mia tapped her fingers against the railing. "There was no sign of tampering? No reason for suspicion that it was murder?"

"None that has been found," leaning against the railing now, he turned to look over the edge. "Though I wouldn't worry too much, Chaol is good at his job. He'll figure it out."

Giving a dry laugh she said, "Right, that feels me with heaps of confidence."

Turning, he gave her a flat look and she let out a real laugh. 

Grabbing at the book she had placed down, she turned before glancing over her shoulder.

"Or maybe someone's got a vendetta against the champions."

Pushing off the wall, he followed after her as she made her way into her rooms. He gave her a curious look, "Why would you think that?"

"Well," she began, sitting on her couch and beckoning for him to join her, "if you think about it, it appears to be just champions being found dead."

She gave a smile to one of the servants who shuffled in, giving a small thanks as they handed her a small tea cup. The servant flushed and bowed deeply before fleeing.

Dorian raised a brow at that, "It does seem odd. These murders hadn't started until recently—"

"—almost as if someone had a vendetta against the champions. Or perhaps it's another champion that is getting rid of his competition."

He frowned, waving a dismissive hand at a servant that offered him tea. Lowering his voice, he leaned in, "Do you really think it's one of the champions?"

Shrugging, she raised the glass to her lips and took a sip, observing the servants as they flitted around the room, laying down small deserts on the table in front of them before fleeing. She almost wondered where they had come from, but seeing as it was the prince that had come to her, she didn't have to wonder too hard.

"Well," she began, sitting on her couch and beckoning for him to join her, "from what I've observed, it appears to be just champions dying."

She gave a smile to one of the servants who shuffled in, giving a small thanks as they handed her a small tea cup. The servant flushed and bowed deeply before fleeing.

Dorian raised a brow at that, "It does seem odd, now that you point it out. These murders hadn't started until recently—"

"—almost as if someone had a vendetta against the champions. Or perhaps it's another champion that is getting rid of his competition."

He frowned, waving a dismissive hand at a servant that offered him tea. Lowering his voice, he leaned in, "You think it's one of the champions."

Shrugging, she raised the glass to her lips and took a sip, observing the servants as they flitted around the room, laying down small deserts on the table in front of them before fleeing. 

She almost wondered where they had come from, but seeing as it was the prince that had come to her, she didn't have to wonder too hard.

"I take everything to be a threat, especially as it is my sister's life on the line. Champion or not, something is killing us. Brutally I might add. I pray Chaol is right and it is nothing other than a wild beast."

"If you're right," the prince trailed off, resting an arm against the back of the couch.

"If I'm right, then we had better find out who it is, quickly. I don't like them being within arms length of Celaena."

"You're very protective of her."

"I told you she's all I have," she shrugged. "Why shouldn't I be protective of her?"

Dorian rubbed at his chin before leaning back. He gave her a meaningful look, one in which she couldn't interpret. "It's good to be protective of someone you love. But if you spend your whole life protecting someone...who ends up protecting you?"

She thought about it for a moment. 

"I guess, I do."

She shrugged again and picked the cup back up from the table. 

The topic of their discussion getting too deep for her to deal with at the moment. She didn't want his pity, so she changed the subject before they really got into her feelings.

"Celaena refuses to play chess with me anymore, care for a game?"

[riseuplosers]

There is nothing to forgive

(chapter eight added scene pt 1)

The fireplace crackled and she couldn't help but turn to look at it. There had been a time she had revealed in the warmth of flames and ash, a time she had laughed and played with her sister in an attempt to calm her from one of her magical fits. 

A time she hadn't minded getting burnt, not when it was her sister who was scared.

"How's training going?" Dorian asked, leading the conversation. He leaned down and plucked a leftover cookie she had told the maids to leave moments before she retired to bed. "Any competitors giving you trouble?"

"No," she replied, trying to keep her voice void from emotion, " everything has been smooth sailing for the most part. Though..." She paused in thought.

There wasn't a need for him to hear her sad thoughts.

"Though?" he prompted.

"Though nothing. Training is fine." She looked away, eyes roaming the room. Her wrist felt prickly and she knew it was from the way she had been sitting on it.

Not daring to move it, she looked back at the prince. His lips were thinned, eyes welcoming.

"Is someone giving you a hard time? Are they bothering you?"

Annoyance sat in her gaze as she looked back over at him, "Yes, and his name rhymes with Torian."

"Oh, I know him! A lovely fellow. He's quite charming."

There was little energy inside of her to deal with his remarks, much less his playful grin that made her heart do strange things.

"You're scowling again," Dorian pointed out.

She could hear the concern in his voice, though she didn't know if it was because he was concerned for her or for the champion he needed for his victory in the competition.

She couldn't help the sigh that left her lips.

"It's nothing I can't deal with." 

"I have no doubt in your skills," Dorian frowned, "but that doesn't mean you have to do everything alone. I am your sponsor after all."

"I like to think I'm quite good at taking care of myself," She narrowed her eyes in challenge "Have I given you the impression I can't?"

"Quite the opposite, lovely. You and Celaena are the most deadly women I've ever had the privilege of encountering," he leaned forward with a twinkle in his eyes. "I've just sort of joined in. Consider me generous. Let me help."

She chewed on her lip in thought. "It isn't a big deal, it's just..."

It would probably have been a good idea to bring up her hands. The pain that resided in them every morning when she prepared for the day. The way she had healers tending to them nearly every night because she pushed herself too hard that day, trying to prove herself.

Not necessarily to Chaol or to Cain or to any other imbecile that scrutinized her and Celaena.

To herself.

To prove that she could still do this. That she was still strong enough.

Instead, she lied.

Like she had done for years whenever she was backed into a corner. She lied and lied until she was left alone or until she could flee.

But the best lies were often spun with truth so she answered with, "I have nightmares often. Different things mostly, but now... I refuse to go back to those mines. I refuse for Celaena to go back. Maybe that makes me dangerous, I don't care but we're not going back." 

She was all too aware of the way his eyes flickered across her own, down her nose. 

He couldn't possibly be looking at her lips. 

Could he?

"You won't."

He made it almost sound like a vow. 

She gave a grimace, fingers twitching as she shifted, "You can't be sure of that."

"I am." He leaned back against the couch, an easy smile stretching across his lips. "You've come too far to lose now. Besides, I have a great sense of character."

"And about as big of a head as Celaena."

"You wound me, love" Dorian closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the back of the couch, "I was told I have a pretty head."

She snickered and he opened a lazy eye to inspect her. "I'm not sure who's been lying to you, but you should fire them."

"How rude."

"As my mother used to say, the truth seldom comforts our feelings."

"Remarkably smart your mother is."

Mia grinned at that, a sad smile but one that held memories of sunlight and warmth. "Yes, she was."

Dorian grew quiet at that, no doubt remembering the report that Chaol had given him about the twins. About their parents. Instead of allowing the heavy silence that had followed to settle into the room, she continued, "Though Celaena takes a little bit after our father."

"Strong?"

"Arrogant."

They chuckled together as she explained, "Celaena is one of the most arrogant beings I've ever met, but seeing her skill, there isn't much question as to why."

Dorian had a thoughtful expression on his face. He crossed his ankle over his knee, tapping the cushion. 

"You talk about your sister a lot. You respect her."

Mia nodded, "I told you before, she's all I have."

"You didn't have any friends? No honor among thieves?"

A chuckle made its way past her lips as she shook her head, too distracted to continue her book. "The life I lived left very little room for trust and friendship. But...there was one. I ended up trusting him more than I trusted myself."

Dorian lifted his head, sapphire eyes gleaming with interest. "Did you love him?"

She nodded, "Not in the way you're implying, but yes I did love him. He became someone I had looked up to, a brother of sorts, if you will."

A certain heaviness sat on her heart when thinking about Sam.

"He died," Letting out a breath, she continued, "He died and some part of me blames myself. Why didn't I stop it? Why wasn't I fast enough? Why wasn't I smart enough to know that..."

Shaking her head she blinked away the tears that hurt her eyes. "So many questions jumble together and I just can't help but feel like his death was my fault. It was sudden too. I lost him quicker than I could have imagined and then I lost Celaena when we were put in the mines."

"I'm sorry." His voice was heavy, soothing as he said, "I'm sorry because of the mines. Because of the order my father gave that ... no one deserves that."

"Yeah," she said softly, voice barely above a whisper, "me too."

Heavy silence settled around them. She wanted to say something, anything really to tell him it wasn't his fault. That he hadn't played apart in any of it.

But silence was easier than words, easier than formulating what her heart had been speaking.

She glanced back at her book, at the sentences that jumbled together and the world of make believe that was safer than her own. 

"You must hate me," he muttered finally, catching her attention, "Me and my court. For bringing you here, for placing you in front of my father, and for not doing anything for the lives my father so hazardously destroys."

She was silent at that. Never would she have guessed that she would receive acknowledgement, from the Crown Prince of Adarlan much less.

Waving a hand she offered, "It isn't your fault."

Dorian shook his head then. There was something dangerous in his eyes as he stood. Holding her breath, she watched stiffly as he made his way around the table and sat beside her, taking her hand in his own.

Her eyes grew wide when realizing what she had done.

Fighting the urge to yank her hand back to herself and run far away screaming, she breathed heavily, eyes roaming the scars that marred her hands. 

But Dorian didn't look at them, his eyes hadn't even glanced down from her own.

A finger brushed against the back of her hand and she shivered. 

Had he always been this alluring?

The blue in his eyes were beautiful, a shade she had wanted to paint and replicate, though somehow knew she'd come up short.

Dark brows scrunched together and she had chided herself on the impulsive thought that had wanted to touch it.

"I hadn't thought of the reason why you did what you did. Why you and your sister participated in things you had. We were told that criminals were criminals because of the bad things they had done, but no one had ever stopped to ask why."

She froze as he glanced down, eyes roaming her hand.

He didn't flinch.

He didn't flinch.

Instead he used his other hand and grasped her other wrist before bringing her palms up to his lips.

Letting out a breath that had stuck its way in her throat, she fought the sting in her eyes.

"I read about what my father had done to you. What you had to endure. For that, I will always be sorry. There is nothing I can say that will right the injustice that has happened. No one deserves to be whipped like an animal. You certainly didn't."

"Many would disagree." Her throat seemed to tighten.

"Chaol told me you hailed from Terresan, that you had been there when my father had..." He blinked, a furious look in his eyes. "My father and country have done so much to you. I had once asked myself why the Sardothien twins had pillaged my kingdom the way they had but now I understand."

His hands tightened against her own and she reveled in the feeling of his skin against her own.

"I am sorry, Miandia. For my part in it all. Truly."

She was silent at that. Never would she have guessed that she would receive an apology, from the Crown Prince of Adarlan much less. 

"There's nothing to forgive." She paused, trying to find the right words. Her heart stirred and she found herself saying in nothing more than a soft tone, "I don't hate you."

The clock struck midnight before she could say anything else. He was quiet as he surveyed her, eyes roaming her face for any kind of lie. After finding nothing but sincerity, he bowed his head and stood.

"I should get going, you have a test tomorrow."

Murmuring in agreement she trailed after him to the door. 

Silence encompassed them as they got closer to the door leading into the hallway. Just as she thought he would open it and leave, he hesitated. 

A hand rested on the handle before he spun, an unreadable look in his eyes.

"Why?" he asked. There was sort of a desperate sound to the question he posed. "Why don't you hate me, I haven't done anything too..."

As he trailed off she shrugged. There were a lot of reasons she couldn't find it in herself to hate him. 

She enjoyed his company, enjoyed the intelligence that sat behind his eyes.

Yes, there was a time she had wished to kill him, but there was something there that told her he would make for a great king. 

Something far greater than his father could ever be. 

She saw potential and good in his heart, in the way he spoke and the decisions he made. In the way he carried himself and the way he cared for those that served under him.

She had observed him, much to her own chagrin. She hadn't meant too, but somehow her eyes had clung to him whenever he appeared, causing her to realize the relationships he had with his people. 

He cared for them greatly.

Her mother had once taught her that you would know what kind of person a man is by the way he treats his people.

When she looked at Dorian, she saw someone good.

Someone who was trying with what hand of cards he was given. She saw something that she could only wish to become like. 

But instead of saying any of that, she settled on something else that had merely caused her heart to stir.

"Because you didn't flinch."

Something came to life and was laid to rest in his gaze. Reaching forward, she laid her hand in his outstretched palm. Brining it up, he pressed a soft kiss against her knuckles, the place that had been the most horrific to look at.

"My clever thief," he murmured against her skin. Warmth spread across her face and down her neck. Pulling away, his lips tugged upward. "I look forward to your performance tomorrow. Good night, Miandia."

That was the first time he had said her name that night and a small part of herself shivered. 

"Rest well, your majesty." She replied, watching as he gave a heart throbbing grin before turning and walking away.

After watching her door close, she took a step forward and listened as his footsteps faded. Turning, she fell against the door, sinking to the ground as she wondered just what exactly she had gotten herself into.

[riseuplosers]

UPDATED SCENES MASTERLIST

ACT ONE | THRONE OF GLASS

Chapter two: the journey to Rifthold

Chapter eight pt 1: there is nothing to forgive

chapter eight pt 2: you're lucky your're cute

chapter 16 pt 1: yulemas ceremony

chapter 16 pt 2: yulemas ball

chapter 16 pt 3: yulemas presents

ACT TWO | CROWN OF MIDNIGHT

coming soon