#fallen chapter 4

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

Final Chapter!!!!

just in time for national butch day babyyyyyyy!!!!!

Ship: Elias Leroux/Aurora Winn. One Sided Captivating Princess/Aurora Winn

Word count: 10,851

a resolution, a promise of further fun, and rory finally gets fed

(rory belongs as always to @thedeafprophet who was a big help with dialogue for this!!!)

[starlightshadowsworld]

I love how the minor little spoopy scene took multiple rewrites and several days to figure out but the important plot shit took one write words just flying on the page in the moment.

Smh.

[suddencolds]

almost done... 🙏

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[youling-the-ghost]

I thought maybe you could add this to the wiki if you want to, but you totally don’t have to!

This is Sam’s grandfather (his mum’s dad pretty sure)

https://areyoubeingserved.fandom.com/wiki/Nicholas_Smith

it’s just an interesting fun fact I guess :)

(I didn’t make the wiki page for him just watching a stream where he was mentioned and I thought you might like to add him via Sam’s section or something :))

also I’m sorry that I haven’t done much on the wiki- I know I could add this myself and I can if you want me to (just a bit difficult to work the wiki on my really slow laptop) but anyway :))

(Also amazing work on the wiki just overall!!)

Ooh that's interesting! I'll add that to my evergrowing to-do list :] (/lh) and you're all good!! It's not like this has a deadline or anything lol every little bit helps and the stuff you've already done helps tremendously ^^

(p.s. thank you so much for your kind words, they really mean the world to me)

[highbrasshighkass]

working on a fallen order order 66 au for february (original i know) and some of these star wars characters really do be suffering from same name disease

[everyryuujisuguro]

[daisychainsandbowties]

started to actually have time to write star wars au again. i had random pieces, maybe a little less than 3k on monday & now it just hit 10k which is nice but ava please shut up

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads // twitter thread    

A Day of Fallen Night

slow character focused epic fantasy prequel to priory of the orange tree

set during the grief of ages, when Wyrms are on the rise and devastating cities across the world

the teen heir to the throne, a middle-aged tomb keeper at the priory, a young warrior from the north, and princess from the mountains of the east

motherhood, survival, politics

[fallen-gabrielle]

Chapter 4 is out! I'd love to hear what you guys think about it!

Still far from the juicy angst I promised, but every event has its importance later, I swear.

[sirendeepity]

I'm doing a 24 hours readathon and I am so ready to sleep (it hasn't even been 10 hours)

[fandom-official]

It's entertainment March madness 😵‍💫

[thestarmaker]

Should I try the writing experiment of taking an edible and putting on The Fic Playlist

[ladyhindsight]

Ahoy.

So far Clary has begun her training. Jace is struggling with something but won’t tell exactly why, because it is the sort of inner turmoil only Jace may have. After leaving his home, Simon has been approached by the menacing Camille who is up to no good. Simon has also yet to determine his dishonest relationships with Isabelle and Maia. Isabelle has done pretty much nothing aside from fending off Camille’s human lunches and called Simon her boyfriend. Alec and Magnus are having their adventures featured in The Red Scrolls of Magic that will never fit into this story. Fun. So, let’s continue.

Simon is sitting in front of a public library, lamenting his current life and waiting for Raphael. 

I don’t know why this assumption is here, probably in order to justify Simon moping around public spaces, but it is literally invalidated in this same chapter.

So Raphael arrives and they have a chat about Simon telling his mother that he is a vampire and is now in need of a place to stay.

Which, again, is incorrect. Simon refused to join with Raphael, and Raphael only wanted to kill Simon once he became a Daylighter (because he is dangerous to their kind though he has, as to this day, refused to elaborate how), which is the reason Clary gave Simon the Mark of Cain. Keep up with your own story, would you.

He didn’t. He came asking for a place to stay. So, Simon tells Raphael nothing about Camille, because he wasn’t going to in the first place, and Raphael leaves.

As Raphael, the angel he was named for, has a known tendency to?

We cut to Clary having a picnic with Jace before training to become an awesome angelic warrior hero. Jace is sleeping and Clary is being not like other girls.

This would be easily remedied by deleting that sentence → "She guessed it was her version of writing about her boyfriend in a diary”

The other now is needless and redundant. We know it’s now because it has already been said.

The Golden Jace count will be looking good with this redundancy alone. The light is gold, but Jace is even more gold. Nothing new under the sun.

This part here wouldn’t raise my ire at all, if it weren’t for the very basis their whole relationship was built on. If Jace and Clary’s love wasn’t created by such an insecure and jealous narrative on the expense of Jace’s other important relationships, especially the one with Alec; on the need of Clary being the only exception to everything in Jace’s life and the sole thing he cares about in life, I don’t think I would have such a visceral hatred for passages like this. But alas, there it is and I hate both of them.

So Clary and Jace profess their unbound, undying, unyielding, passionate love for one another (yet it is still brought to question in the story because reasons), and Clary says this:

Of course there is a perfect quote to everything. Clare lives vigorously through any and every quote she can muster in her writing and pretend to have anything to do with how her characters just love each other so deeply and meaningfully.

I’m also not a fan of the wording here. Why does Clary need to believe? Why does Jace need to make her believe? Shouldn’t she, by now, by their actions alone, know?

→ “she knew he was remembering the same thing she was: the pale light filtering in through...”

I hate every word in this. I hate this and hate them. It’s bordering on rather senseless loathing that I have no words for but there it is.

Another thing Clary should know by now is whether the training grounds they’ve used apparently several times is glamoured or not. How can she not know that? How can she not have asked even once?

Clary then thinks about how her rune-creating powers have gone seemingly dormant, like she previously didn’t whip up a rune just because the occasion called for it.

The writing is filled to the brim with these limp sentences and limp narration repeating same stuff in succession.

→ “Not that she really minded; she wasn’t sure she’d be entirely sorry if her power had vanished forever.”

Pet peeve: you have just described what color the leaves are. Don’t do it again right after, because it doesn’t make a goddamn difference if at a different spot the leaves are not RED and COPPER but GREEN and GOLD.

No?

Clary and Jace have arrived to their Probably Glamoured training grounds and this mess happens.

Jace faces Clary. He speaks to Clary. Jace takes his jacket off without turning elsewhere and turns back to Clary without ever turning away from her. He then makes a speech about training and fighting and:

Asks Clary to turn and face him. Isn’t it presumable that Clary was already facing him when she narrates Jace’s actions and we are never told she is facing elsewhere?

Jace gets hot and heavy having Clary close to him maneuvering fighting techniques:

Just say that his voice was a little unsteady. It’s not a secret you need to allude to like Clary doesn’t know the effect her proximity has on him.

Then the Seelie Queen arrives.

Delete this. It ruins everything.

Nothing is a greater threat to a relationship but an older woman speaking in riddles. The narrative tries to have characters undermining Jace and Clary’s love left and right while maintaining that no love has been greater than theirs. It doesn’t really create room for the doubt that you are trying to sow.

And of course the Queen knows to ask the one question that obviously will get under Clary’s skin. Because the greatest worry we will have in this book is whether Jace really loves her, like the three books before this didn’t bent hell and back to tell the readers that is, indeed, the case and on the expense of other characters as well.

We cut back to Simon hiding out in Eric’s garage. Right off the bat, Clary’s words refute Simon’s earlier reasoning for not contacting her in the first place. Which makes it all just pointless in the narrative sense. 

→ She was somewhere in the city; the loud blare of traffic sounded behind her”

But that, the most sensible of solutions, can’t happen because of plot reasons.

I’d say this is a wonderfully woven example of Simon’s vampire senses, but I am incredibly reluctant to do so because I don’t trust it to be because of Simon’s vampire senses because there is no unwarranted reminder that Simon is, in fact, a vampire and can, in fact, hear that shit. No matter the book, Clare always is sure to remind you of vampire facts, so I am not entirely trusting that she wrote this Simon being a vampire with super hearing in mind.

I hate all of this, but just deleting the part “It was funny, he thought. Now he could say “I love you” to Clary, when” would make it bearable:

→ “Simon clicked off the phone and lay back, holding it against his chest. For years he’d struggled to say those words and had not been able to get them out...”

I’d like to return to my point above about the spiders spinning webs and my distrust of the writing.

Simon then thinks of his mother and how she thinks he is on a school trip, and he has only a few days to find a solution to his mom problem.

There isn’t a reason for Simon to believe that his mother would remember. When earlier in this chapter Simon tells Raphael what he did to his mother, Raphael explains the encanto:

          “And then I’m not sure what happened. I started talking to her in this really weird, soothing voice, telling her nothing had happened and it was all a dream.”            “And she believed you.”           “She believed me,” Simon said reluctantly.           “Of course she did,” said Raphael. “Because you are a vampire. It is a power we have. The encanto. The fascination. The power of persuasion, you would call it. You can convince mundane humans of almost anything, if you learn how to use the ability properly.”            “But I didn’t want to use it on her. She’s my mother. Is there some way to take it off her—some way to fix it?”            “Fix it so she hates you again? So she thinks you are a monster? That is a very odd definition of fixing something.”             “I don’t care,” Simon said. “Is there a way?”            “No,” Raphael said cheerfully. “There is not. You would know all this, of course, if you did not disdain your own kind so much.”

So, why would Simon think there is a chance his mother started to remember?

→ Simon sprang up, his whole body tense.

Jordan arrives, shows off his tattoos to Simon, and offers him a place to stay like he has no Ulterior Motives. Also:

→ their new lead singer.

Simon then takes him up on his offer and off they go.

Thanks for telling me like you didn’t just show.

[cosmicphenix]

Just the beginning