#petrah speaks

[purple-eye-octopi]

honestly

i ship nikolina and malzoya more than the canon

[cryptidsncurios]

You are worth every word of love. Worth every good deed, worth every smile, every tear of joy. You are worth the suns rays and the warm air, you are worth the happiness and the laughter. You are worth everything good and beautiful. Give everyone and anyone this message, go to random blogs, someone you don’t even know, stretch your ask limit, anon or not, tell them they are worth it. Because the world needs more love.

sorry for the delay on responding to this, but truly, i appreciate this. ;; and to all the folks on my dash, please understand that this is also true for each and every one of you. it can be rough going---i know this for sure---but it's so important to take care of yourselves, reach out when you need help because there's no shame in it, and know without a doubt that you're not alone. <3

[aurorangen]

Who's excited for the family gathering?

Transcript:

Marco: Petrah…why do I have to come to your family gathering?

Petrah: Hey! I was practically forced to come here, so I am making you too [all smug]

Marco: [sulks then fake smiles] But you are wasting my precious sleeping time.

Petrah: Honey [even faker smile] you'll get your precious beauty sleep once we're back.

[Casper toddles behind with no idea where they are going]

Petrah: We'll stay for a bit then leave secretly. Sound good to you?

[They arrive and are greeted by Connie, who we know has an estranged relationship with her twin]

Connie: Petrah. You actually made it, what a surprise to see you in person and not on the big screen.

Petrah: [clears throat] And it's nice to see you too…Connie. You've met Mar-

[Before Marco even has a chance to speak, Connie goes and picks up Casper from his arms]

Connie: Ahh my baby Caspeeeeeer! Look how big you are!

[Both look at then ignore Marco who just stands there. Casper giggles]

Noah: Welcome welcome! Wow I finally get to meet you two, come on in everyone's waiting!

Petrah: [in her head] God he's so loud. Ugh of course Connie knows someone like him [smiles and shakes his

hand pretending to make a good impression] Hi Noah! Oh yes, we meet at last! Can't wait to see Briar!

[tulipsimss]

The most logical damage control in this moment to avoid as much scandal and image damage as possible is for Marco to marry Petrah and move in with her and raise their baby together (Bruno is working out housing and staff as we speak)

[pergaminaa]

What if—

The reason we got Glennis and Bronwen and them being Manon’s great grandmother and cousin respectively is because of what was going to happen at the end of the series?

I mean, without the Thirteen, she has no one left, no family to speak of. But having both Glennis and Bronwen is literally Manon NOT being all alone and that she has actual family still.

It’s not the same yes, and it will take her a long long time to get used to them but at least she isn’t all by herself. She has actual kin around and I feel that with them she will will be okay (eventually)

I also feel that Petrah is going to be someone that Manon trusts a lot and in my heart I feel that my girl is surrounded by people who genuinely love her and care for her.

[rufousnmacska]

Firsts

A manorian one shot that has all my usual tropes. I have a long standing head canon that Manon secretly watches Dorian a lot. She thinks it’s just out of curiosity since he’s a human. And that’s part of it, but there’s a bit more 😏. Also, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about all the first times they didn’t get in the books. So here are some, thrown into one fic.

Thanks to @mrstrafalgardshanks (for sparking some parts of this fic) and @itach-i (for her beta reading and constant manorian trashiness)! ❤��❤️

***

The heavy rain darkened the red of her cloak, turning it into a deep wine color. This was lucky, Manon thought. The cloak was the best way to hide her white braid and allow her the freedom to sneak in without being seen. A group of merchants sped by, heading for the castle entrance, and she jogged to catch up with them. The guard waved them in out of the weather, not looking twice as she pretended to be with them.

She’d never been in the castle. At least, not this part. She’d watched his balcony for hours that one night so long ago. Then she’d seen his bedroom. After it was destroyed by that Yellowlegs bitch. Manon grinned, remembering how Abraxos had disposed of the witch’s wyvern with one snap of his ironteeth. She’d never been able to feel remorse over that. Not when Dorian had been so close to his end.

They’d written, but this would be the first time seeing each other since the war. Manon had decided on a whim to come, and here she was. The sleepless nights had caught up so quickly. Meetings with her council passed without much input from their queen, and she’d begun to forget things. When Petrah offered to oversee the Wastes, to give Manon a break, she hadn’t argued. If nothing else, her kingdom deserved a queen who could remember the orders she’d given. A few days away might bring her back to herself.

Watching Rifthold’s people filter through the entrance hall into the throne room, she peered through her hood at the faces. The nobility and upper classes wore the usual pinched expressions of wealth and privilege, making her wonder how closely they’d allied themselves with Erawan to survive the war with their riches intact. The thought made her cheeks heat in rage.

The others, civilians wearing dingier clothing and awed looks at their surroundings, had suffered. These were the residents left homeless by the witches and valg king. Conscripted into Erawan’s monster army, set free by Southern Continent healers, and likely left with no memory of those months. If they were lucky. It struck her how difficult his job as king would be in the coming years.

As Manon skirted around the walls, she remembered Dorian’s most recent letter. He’d written about the nightmares he’d been having, images of pain and hell inflicted by his own hands. Images of those hands morphing into his father’s.

Perhaps that was why she hadn’t argued with Petrah. It made a good excuse to come here. To check on a friend.

A loud, vivacious laugh caught her ear and she saw Yrene across the crowd. Quickly, Manon pulled her hood a little tighter, hoping the material was still dark enough to blend in.

The line to speak to the King was long and enough people had come simply to watch that Manon was able to get into the throne room unseen. Taking a spot in the back corner, she resisted the urge to stand on something in order to actually see the throne.

She didn’t know why she was sneaking. It felt ridiculous. Childish.

But the thought of having planned a visit, or being received as the Witch Queen, with all the pomp and attention it required, made her skin itch. She’d considered waiting for him in his rooms and surprising him. But after sending Abraxos away to hunt at the city wall when they’d arrived, she’d heard about the Audience with the King happening that day. It would be boring, of course, watching Adarlanians petition Dorian for things or settle disputes. But her curiosity had been piqued. As a queen, she’d wondered how his court was run and thought this might be a good learning experience.

She hadn’t really thought it through though. It was impossible to hear and she could not get a clear view of him no matter how high she stood on her toes. There were simply too many people.

About to give up and go find a way into his rooms, Manon pushed through the people in front of her. Suddenly, and for just a moment, there was a break in the crowd.

Dorian was sitting at a table, Chaol next to him along with others. Advisors, she guessed. The throne sat empty behind him. A couple was speaking to him, gesturing wildly to a snarling merchant. Dorian wrote quickly while the others at the table listened.

When he finally looked up, she got her first sight of his face in months.

His black hair had grown, curling around his crown. But other than that, he looked the same - bronze skin, a quick smile, and sparkling blue eyes. Even from this distance, the sunlight caught his eyes.

But no, she realized, as something else sparkled too. He was different.

His crown.

She’d never seen him with it on.

It was a thick band of gold with three large stones, rubies, set along the front. Simple, but well crafted. There were designs incised along the band but she couldn’t make out the detail.

He looked like a king.

Her king.

The break filled in again and she was shuffled aside, back against the wall. Growling under her breath at the rudeness, she regretted being disguised and almost reached for a dagger.

As she turned to leave, that thought - her king - fluttered into her mind again. But she pushed it away and focused on the shove by the crowd, letting her annoyance take over as she left the castle.

…

Dorian closed his door and sagged against it, exhausted by the day and so many people. This was the fourth audience held in Rifthold since the war. After the first one, he’d called for a table and abandoned his throne, wanting to actually get something accomplished. He’d started the practice with the hopes of letting his people see him, speak to him. Trust him. And while that seemed to be happening, albeit very slowly, a part of him was regretting it.

It was the same part that longed for the adventures and romance that he read about in his novels. The part that wanted to be a normal man, anonymous and irresponsible.

But that part was small enough that he could tuck it away and forget about it.

Not the longing for romance though. Golden eyes, moon white hair, a fleeting smile given only to him. That was something Dorian refused to forget, even if it might not ever happen.

We’ll see.

Those two words spoken with that not-quite-there smile. Manon had looked at him, smiled at him, when she said them. The hope she’d sparked that day still filled him. Especially on nights like this when he was dead tired yet afraid to try and fall asleep.

Pulling himself away from the door, he strode through his outer rooms into the bedroom. Dorian glanced at his desk and thought about writing to her. But he’d just sent a letter last week. He should at least wait for a reply. With a laugh at himself, he thought he should try to maintain some semblance of control.

Grabbing a glass, he poured himself some wine and stared at the mess around his desk. Piles of books, papers, even some containers of soil that were given to him by a farmer at the last audience day. The man insisted his additions to the soil would improve crops across the kingdom. Dorian kicked at one, telling himself he needed to look into the claim.

After draining his wine, Dorian put the glass atop a stack of novels and reached for his crown.

“Leave it on.”

Dorian spun, his magic noticeably not flaring to defend him.

Manon sat on his bed, back against the headboard, her bare feet crossed, a book open in her lap.

As he stared at her, trying to decide if she was real or a figment of his imagination, she stood and walked toward him.

Her eyes, glowing in the light of the fire, caught on his crown. “It looks good on you,” she said.

Real. Her scent, her presence, her voice filled him.

“Hello witchling.”

Manon smiled then. A true smile. For him.

“Hello princeling.”

She reached for his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. Dorian watched, using every bit of self control he had to let her undress him. It struck him that they’d never done this before. Every other time had been hurried, either to avoid the cold or to pretend there was nothing between them. Hell, they’d never even used a real bed.

So he let her slowly unbutton his shirt, let her remove her leathers, enjoying the show she made of it, his eyes drinking her in, her eyes never leaving his.

And when she led him to his bed, he kept his crown on.

…

The next morning, Dorian woke early to send two messages - one to Chaol canceling all his meetings that day, and one to the kitchens for enough food to last until tomorrow. Then he returned to bed, where Manon still slept.

Later, when they were enjoying a very late breakfast in in bed, he caught her smiling. “Is something funny?” he asked lightly.

Manon bit into a piece of bacon and looked around the room. He followed her gaze but saw nothing amusing.

“I’ve never spent a day lazing around in bed,” she finally replied. “Unless I was injured. I suppose with all your many lovers, this is nothing new for you.” She was teasing him, but he responded seriously.

“You’ve never done this? Never wanted to stay with someone after?” He saw the answer in her face, the way her smile faded. Pushing the tray of food away, he pulled her onto him, her legs straddling his waist. “Ask me who I will do this for now,” he demanded.

Manon said nothing, but the heavy rise and fall of her chest gave away her excitement.

Dorian kissed her, using his magic to pin her hands behind her back and yank her closer while his real hands tangled in her hair. Her teeth scraped over his lip and he moaned.

“Ask me.” His voice was rough and commanding as he freed her mouth to speak.

Barely a whisper, she said, “Who.”

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, letting her squirm in his lap as his magic caressed other spots. When she groaned, a mix of pleasure and annoyance, he said, “Just you, witchling. No one else.”

…

Manon was so close to the edge, driven there by his lips and phantom touch and the sharp demand in his voice. But those words pulled her back. The promise, the declaration of … something … something they couldn’t say. Yet.

The thought of that yet made her soften in his arms. He felt it and dropped his forehead to rest on hers. “Just you, princeling.” She saw his smile, his relief.

That promise, that declaration in her words cracked a barrier inside her. Slowly, tentatively, she cupped his cheek and said, “Tell me about your nightmares.”

Dorian’s eyes flashed, either from her touch or the question. But instead of answering, he ran a knuckle under both of her eyes. “Will you tell me about yours?”

Manon nodded.

Then he kissed her, so softly and tenderly, it could have been her first kiss. It took her a moment to open her eyes and when she did, Dorian was smiling at her. She couldn’t help but return it, and soon they were laughing, at what, she didn’t know. But it felt good. Right.

They spent the rest of that day and night in and out of bed, never leaving his rooms.

Dorian taught her how to luxuriate in a hot bath, kept warm by his magic. Manon taught him how to properly sharpen the dagger Sorrel had given him a lifetime ago. He showed her the symbols on his crown, which was heavier than she’d expected.

They spoke of their nightmares, of how last night was the first time either had slept, truly slept, in forever. They shared their worries of ruling, each boosting the resolve of the other.

The next day, they had breakfast with Chaol and Yrene. Their baby stared at Manon, making her fidget in her chair despite Yrene’s reassurances that Josie was always like this with new people. Everyone watched, Chaol nervously and Dorian amused, as Yrene sat the babe in Manon’s lap.

Manon held her carefully, not wanting to drop her. Josie reached for Manon’s braid and tugged on it playfully. When she cooed, everyone laughed. That was when she realized she’d never held a baby before. She wondered how different her life, the world, everything, would be if Asterin’s witchling had lived.

Sensing the change in her mood, Dorian reached over and took Josie, distracting them all by bouncing her on his knee until she broke into a fit of giggles. Manon caught his eye and he winked at her.

A day later, Manon said goodbye to her new friends. And Dorian. It was harder to leave this time than it had been in Orynth. He walked with her to the city wall where she’d find Abraxos. They were both hooded and cloaked to avoid stares. And he held her hand - another first, and probably not the last - as he led her through streets and alleyways.

But she would return. And he would visit her. Soon. Because they’d both agreed, though not with words, that this time together had been important. They needed each other. And while she didn’t understand the full implications of that, yet, she knew it felt right. He felt right.

Her king, and his queen.

***

Thanks for reading!

Fanfic master list

And to the anon/s who sent a few requests a while back, thanks for your patience! I’ll try to get to those soon. 🤗

[malulls]

I'll be there for you

Manorian one shot

Slightly nsfw

— I don't know the tailor who made your dress, but I'm going to steal her for myself.

Elide smiled at Lysandra. The Lady of Perranth looked beautiful in her wedding dress. The elegant and perfectly embroidered bodice was finished with a gorgeous silk sash trimmed with gold. The full skirt of the dress was made of a surprisingly light and beautifully ornate fabric. Manon never cared much for clothes, but it really was a beautiful work.

— I have never worn something so perfect. I'm just trying not to get nervous and throw up all over it.

The Witch Queen spoke for the first time since Elide tried on her wedding dress to show them, twenty minutes ago.

— You have faced Ilkens on your own. You will survive a wedding, despite your questionable choice of husband.

— I am forced to agree with you, witch — said Aelin with a too serious face.

The lady glanced appreciatively at Manon, before casting a disapproving glance at the two of them.

— Do you hate him that much?

— No Elide, but I won't miss the opportunity to pick on dear Lord Lorcan Lochan.

The women gathered in the small room laughed at hearing the name, even Manon gave a small smile. They were trying on their dresses with Elide, except for the witch, who continued with her leathers after the lady assured her that she wouldn't mind if she didn't wear one of those outfits.

— If you excuse me, I think I'd better go now. It's late and Josie must be hungry. — Yrene said as she removed the yellow dress that had been prepared for her and returned to the clothes she wore before. — Good night, ladies.

After the future bride put away her dress, Aelin and Lysandra said goodbye and left the room. Manon was about to follow them when Elide called her.

— Manon? I wanted to ask you something.

She sat down again.

— What is it?

— I was wondering if you'd like — She opened and closed her hands nervously — if you'd like me to set aside a seat only for you. To hold their places. I wish they could be here.

Manon felt as if a rock had hit her, right in the chest. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat so that she could speak.

— Yes. Thank you.

Elide squeezed her hand and smiled sadly at the witch. The only thing Manon managed to do was a nod of goodbye as she went back to her own room. Browen and Petrah were taking care of her kingdom so that she could go to Lorcan and Elide's wedding.

So Manon was alone. As she had always been since the end of the war. She hated that word. Alone. That's what she was.

Those thoughts haunted her mind as she walked the stone halls of the Perranth Castle. And long after that in the warm night that followed.

—

The ceremony was touching. Elide looked stunning, in addition to her dress, her ebony hair was neatly done in a bun that highlighted the beauty of her face. She radiated happiness as she walked up to Lorcan, who looked elegant in a black tunic, obviously, and flashed a smile that for five hundred years no one had ever seen.

Manon was wearing her sumptuous red cloak over the witches' leather clothes, her hair falling in waves down her back, her crown shining and illuminating the queen's beautiful face.

She didn't notice the few guests who looked at her strangely and wondered why she was alone. Some of them guessing that it was because everyone was afraid to get close to her. None of them would have dared to think that if they could read the mind of a young king who had been watching her for a great part of the night.

Dorian was in the bank opposite hers in the ancient temple of Perranth, now restored with the return of the rightful lady of the territory and properly decorated for her own wedding. Manon looked painfully beautiful, as always, and was watching Elide and Lorcan take their vows with a seemingly calm expression. But Dorian knew how hard it was for her to be alone in that bank. He just knew.

As if sensing the gaze, for the first time, Manon turned toward him. The two just stared at each other, for a long moment. The queen had no idea what Dorian wanted or why he was looking at her that way, but she didn't look away from his sapphire eyes. A slightly cold sensation coursed through her wrist. An invisible hand.

When she opened her hand and exposed her palm, he entwined the fingers of the ghost hand in hers. She held him back. The two looked away and did not face each other again until the wedding was over. It was not necessary. And he didn't let go of her hand for a single second.

—

The party that followed was just as impressive as the wedding. The stone walls of the castle hall were decorated with ribbons and the flowers that covered the green fields of Terrasen that spring. The music of various instruments echoed off the walls as the lady and lord of Perranth swirled around the hall.

A few tables covered with white linen and decorated with flower arrangements stood in the corners of the room, accommodating the few who were not dancing. Manon was one of these people. She had been watching the party in front of her for almost two hours, quiet and seeing people dance, sing, and smile. She wished she wasn't like that at the wedding party of someone she considered a friend, but she couldn't help the uncomfortable feeling that had arisen in her chest and didn't want to go away. It would probably disappear and tears would take its place.

Manon rarely cried, but the few times it happened it was desperate and she couldn't stop for a long time. She was grateful to Elide for giving up a place for the Thirteen even though they were not there. And the reminder that they weren't, though it was constant, that night felt like an iron fist around her heart.

— May I sit down?

She blinked, surprised to find Yrene Towers hovering beside the table. How could she push away a lady with a baby on her lap?

— Why?

She was at the table with Dorian and Chaol, who were currently discussing who would dance with Aelin. Why did you suddenly want to sit next to me?

— You are alone here. I came to give you some company. If you don't want to, that's fine. But if you don't mind, I'll just stay here. We don't need to talk.

Manon's first instinct was to reject it. But she had just been mentally complaining about not having anyone. And honestly, a small part of her was grateful to the healer. So she allowed Yrene to sit down.

—

Dorian smiled at Aelin as he spun her around the room.

— Are you reading any interesting books?

— A lot. I brought some with me, I can lend them to you if you want. How's Fleetfoot?

— Always making a mess at the palace. I would have brought her, but we were hurrying and I didn't want to force her to walk so far. Besides, Fenrys would beat me if I had to cross a dog.

The king smiled at her.

— You should have called me, then.

Before Aelin could ask, the two of them disappeared and reappeared in another corner of the room. The Queen of Terrasen gave him an incredulous look, trying to understand what had happened.

— You learned it!

— Among other things. Now I know how to make flowers grow too.

— I will demand a beautiful bouquet every day. — He gave her a mocking smile. — Since you can do it now, are you going to make some interesting trips to the Wastes?

Dorian's smile narrowed. He knew there was more behind that question. They had not had time for a decent conversation, the king imagined Aelin was curious trying to understand what had happened between Manon and him.

— I'm not sure if anyone wants me there.

Aelin slowed down.

— Things... didn't end well between you?

— That's the issue, I don't know. They ended up complicated.

— Why?

The song ended, another one started, and the two didn't notice or stop for a moment.

— It was easier before, when we just slept together. Things were different by the end of the war, but after everything that happened, I'm not sure that she wants anything to do with me.

— But she cares about you, doesn't she?

— In her own way. She may have spat it in my face at a time when she clearly wanted to skin me alive, but yes.

— So go talk to her.

He wanted to, but after months it could not matter anymore what she had said to him, not when her eyes looked so empty and tired.

We'll see.

A tense silence followed between the two of them for almost an entire song.

— Are you all right, Dorian?

— Are you?

Aelin rolled her eyes, as if she were the only one who could take care of other people's lives.

— The hard days diminish with time.

— I still can't handle them properly.

Stopping completely in the middle of the dance, Aelin put her arms around him. He hugged his friend back.

— I wish we weren't so far away, you know. So I could keep an eye on you.

— You have a kingdom to look after, Aelin. You don't need to take care of one of your many tragic friends.

Neither of them said anything, and the silence was filled by the lively music and the chattering in the hall.

— I missed you.

He held her tighter.

— I missed you too.

Someone cleared their throat near them both. Before she could even lift her face completely off Dorian's shoulder, Aelin had already raised her middle finger.

— Go be territorial with the chickens, buzzard.

— I'm not being territorial. I just came to ask if I could borrow my wife after she dumped me for three dances in a row.

But who was couting. Dorian laughed.

— I'll borrow her.

— To Chaol, who I'm dancing with now. And you can calm down, bird.

She walked away to the lord of Anielle. Dorian laughed at Rowan's irritation, who merely gave the king an annoyed but amused look. The laughter slowly faded as he walked over to the table where Yrene was sitting with Manon.

The Lady of Anielle kept to what she had said and didn't say a word, except for the few times she spoke to the baby on her lap. The comfortable silence between them was interrupted by Dorian's arrival.

— Do you know where my husband is?

— Dancing with Aelin. I don't think they'll have much time before Rowan has a syncope.

— Let's go get your father then, Josie.

Yrene left the table with her daughter, leaving the King of Adarlan and the Queen of Witches alone. Gold met sapphires. The tension of the silence between them was almost palpable. So Dorian dared to break it.

— Hello, witchling.

— Hello, princeling.

The king didn't know what to say. He had no idea how things were between them, even though she had held his hand during the wedding.

— What do you want?

— To know how you are. I haven't seen you for months.

He knew very well the mask of indifference she was wearing. It was an expression he used more often than he would have liked.

— I'm fine.

Damaris went cold in his belt at the lie, but it was the only thing she offered, and if that was what she wanted to say, it was fine. Dorian hadn't expected her to simply tell him everything, anyway. That moment between the two of them before the king left for Morath was a rare display of vulnerability, and probably the only one he would have of her.

Someone called out to him from across the hall. Yrene, asking the king to dance with her. He was distracted by talking to her for a minute, and when he looked at the chair next to him, Manon was already gone.

—

The Queen did not notice how much time had passed since she had left the party. The perfumed night air enveloped her, from her balcony she could see the festivities in the town below the castle, where the peasants of Perranth were celebrating their lady's wedding. Elide had said something about spending some time at the parties in the town the next day with her people. Lanterns filled the grass-covered fields of Terrasen with points of golden lights. A few floors below her, Abraxos was sleeping happily with his head tucked into white lilies.

Manon was trying to push that feeling she hated so much out of her own mind. She was surprised at how much being on that empty bank actually weighed on her.

The witch's sharp hearing acknowledged footsteps, but she didn't bother to turn to speak to Dorian.

— Do you really want to stay alone?— He leaned on the balcony beside her.

— No.

— Then what are you doing here?

— There was too much noise there. Too many people, too much music.

It wasn't noticeable in the room, but the music was so loud that she and Dorian could clearly hear the melody despite being on a far balcony. The sound filled the stillness between them as they didn't say anything, for a long time.

— Do you want to dance?

The question surprised her as much as the sudden break in the silence. When Manon turned around, Dorian was already looking at her.

— Haven't you already danced too much today?

— A prince never dances too much.

Changing the subject clearly didn't help Manon escape the invitation, because Dorian held out his hand to her.

— I don't dance.

— In 117 years?

— I had more important things to do than worry about parties.

Manon didn't let herself think about what she had spent a century doing. She had enough fucked up thoughts for one night. She shifted her eyes to Dorian's extended hand.

— Please?

He came closer. There were only a few inches separating their faces, and the queen's breathing quickened when Dorian reached up to put a lock of hair behind her ear.

The king looked surprised when she took his hand.

— If you tell anyone I danced with you, you'll be food for the wyverns, princeling.

He opened a smile, completely ignoring the threat, and entwined his fingers in hers, wrapping the witch's waist with his other hand. He pulled Manon close, much closer than was necessary for a dance.

For the first time in the evening, she paid attention to the music, not as an irritating and frivolous sound in the background, but to the joyful melody and the instruments that were being played. She was distracted by the smell of Terrasen pines, by the cool night air, by Dorian moving the two of them across the stone floor of the balcony, pulling away to spin her around and then pulling her close again.

When that song ended the two danced the next one. And the next. Again and again and again. With the end of the sound of the instruments the king suddenly stopped. Only then did she notice how long the two of them had danced, that her breathing was slightly shallow and her feet a little sore.

These thoughts vanished from the queen's mind when Dorian lowered his mouth to hers. She released his hand to tangle her fingers in the black curls of the his hair.

— I wanted to do that the moment I saw you.

She didn't answer, and instead kissed Dorian again. The two only pulled apart when they were breathless, and still continued to hold their foreheads together, stealing small kisses until Manon pulled away. She knew how this would end if it continued, and although a part of her wanted to drag Dorian into the bedroom and disappear with his clothes, she still had a lump in her throat and knew she wasn't up for it.

— I'm tired.

— We don't have to do anything if you don't want to. But I like sleeping with you.

Manon let him hug her, and they plunged into the darkness, then emerged back into a hallway. If he hadn't been holding her, she probably would have fallen to the floor.

— What was that?

— That thing Fenrys does when he disappears from one place and appears in another.

— And you know how to do it.

He opened the bedroom door and Manon followed him inside.

— It's quite useful, actually. Maybe when I can cross longer distances I will take a trip to know the Wastes.

The witch almost smiled at the hidden suggestion. If he could, the two of them could see each other often. She would not complain about that. Dorian dropped his tunic on a chair and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes while she did the same. Manon hesitated, but eventually opened the drawer where he was keeping things and grabbed the first shirt she found before taking off her leather clothes. He was smiling when Manon went to the other side of the bed.

— What?

— You' pretty in my clothes.

When they both lay down she couldn't help but think of the last time they had been like this. What the two of them had said in the tent, how different things were now. And the question that had been pounding in her head for hours.

— Why did you hold my hand at the wedding?

— Because I wanted you to know that you are not alone.

— Wasn't the empty bank indicative enough of the opposite?

He turned so that he could look into her eyes.

— The empty bank was the reason I did it. I wanted to show you that you don't have to go through this alone. That if you ever need to, even if it's just to talk, you have someone.

— You are on the other side of Erilea.

— Just because I am far away doesn't mean that I don't think about you, that I don't worry, or that I don't miss you. You can come to me when things get hard in your kingdom. You will always have a place with me, if you want.

He looked surprised when she hugged him, but it didn't take him long to wrap his arms around her, as if he was afraid that she would suddenly change her mind and disappear.

— You will always have a place with me too.

Manon was trying to learn to trust the people around her. People who hadn't spent a century by her side. She didn't know how to speak comforting words, but she would be there whenever he felt lonely because she knew exactly what it was like.

Dorian turned around and put an arm around the queen's waist, then pulled her in, until her back was against his chest. She was still awake when she heard his breathing become steady and his arm relax around her. Manon was relieved she didn't have another damned crying crisis. That had been a long day and she was more than ready for it to end, knowing she would be better in the morning. At some point in the night, she lost herself in the warmth that the king's arms offered and fell asleep as well.

—

Her eyelids fluttered as her eyes tried to get used to the light coming from the window. A comforting feeling had settled in the queen's chest, chasing away the bad feelings of the previous day. Manon wondered if some of this was due to the owner of the hand that drew lazy circles around her waist. Dorian was smiling when she turned and laid her head against his chest.

— Good morning?

— Hm.

He laughed.

— Such a good mood.

— What kind of person wakes up in a good mood?

— Someone who's waking up with me, I guess.

Manon lifted her head to roll her eyes at him, but she found his blue eyes darkening with an expression she had seen many times before. He moved the hand that had been on her waist again, reaching the back of her tighs.

— Do you think Elide will mind if we're late for breakfast?

She turned to the window. From the position of the sun, it was just after dawn.

— It's too early for breakfast.

The witch had barely finished her sentence before Dorian passed his hand around her neck and pulled her face to his. It took only one movement and the two had switched positions, she digging her nails in the king's shoulders as invisible hands opened the buttons of her shirt. His shirt, actually.

The ghost hands moved up the queen's waist, leaving a trail of ice and fire that made her arch as they cupped her breasts. He lowered his body, kissing her skin until his face was between her thighs.

Manon grasped the sheets.

—

Dorian was much more awake when the two of them arrived, definitely late, at breakfast. He wouldn't have minded staying in bed all morning, though. Or the whole day. But they would have that night and all the others before they needed to leave. And they would certainly make up for the lost time. Aelin smirked at the king as he pulled out his chair to sit at the table, Manon did the same next to him. Here we go.

— Good morning, lazy people. Did you sleep well?

— Yes — he replied, ignoring the malice in her voice. — And you?

— I didn't sleep much, actually — the queen replied with a wink.

Chaol hid his face in his hands.

— One meal. One meal in peace was all I wanted.

— At least you don't have to suffer through this constantly— Lorcan grunted from across the table.

— I know you love us, lord Lorcan Lochan.

The Demi-Fae showed his middle finger to Fenrys.

— Not even at my wedding will you get off my back?

— "Not even at my wedding". Now he goes around telling even the stones that he is married. I bet you'll soon start writing that on your forehead.

— Relax, Lorcan. — The lord stopped grunting when Rowan pointed at Fenrys. — The puppy is just jealous because he's single.

— Single because he wants to be — Aelin corrected. — I'm sure a little tour around the city would be enough to bring him back with half the population as candidates.

Fenrys leaned back in his chair.

— I think I've decided to follow your example — a signal to Rowan and Lorcan — and wait for a beautiful, furious woman who definitely doesn't like me to appear right in front of me.

He cast a curious glance at Manon, beautiful and furious, definitely didn't like Fenrys, and right in front of him. Dorian hoped that no one noticed the cold wind that he couldn't keep from rushing through the room.

— So, witch — Fenrys gave her a smirk — Would you like to win a very handsome fae?

The king thought she would jump at Fenrys and shove a fork down his throat for the audacity, but she only frowned.

— Do you have invisible hands?

Fenrys blinked.

— What?

— Invisible hands. Do you have?

— No.

— Then no, I don't want.

Dorian bit the corners of his mouth to keep from smiling at the Wolf's confused expression. Aelin, however, understood very well and opened her mouth so wide that he could swear he heard her jaw snap.

— You use your invisible hands to... How naughty.

Dorian winked at the queen. The sound of metal clashing with wood filled the room as Aedion dropped the silverware on the table.

— Could you two please not talk about sex while we're having breakfast?

— No one has mentioned that word, Aedion. You're the one with the impure mind.

Aelin nodded to Dorian in agreement.

— I don't know why he keeps playing innocent. I've heard so many things...

— Aelin — Lysandra shouted across the room.

As the table fell into another discussion, he looked at the Witch Queen from the corner of his eyes and found her golden eyes already focused on him. Dorian gave Manon a small smile. She smiled back.

[itach-i]

“We’ll See” (Manorian) (Chapter 2)

_____________________________________________________________

After the war at Orynth, Manon Blackbeak and Dorian Havilliard decided that rebuilding their kingdoms would be the best course of action, leaving whatever they felt for each other up in the air. What happens when they finally make time to see each other again? (Link on ff.net)

________________________________________________________________

Spring - Chapter 1 ________________________________________________________________

Broken Glass - Chapter 2

Dorian

Dorian cringed as he realized that his constant pacing might very well cause a hole in the guest room at the Westfall Fortress. Calming himself, Dorian looked out and was disappointed to see the sun just begin to rise lazily over the mountains. Although he had been very nervous and anxious about his meeting with Manon after months apart and leaving things so up in the air, he did not expect sleep to evade him as it had.

There had been a lot of thinking done since the Witch-Queen accepted the offer to meet up in Anielle, and most of it had nothing to do with business or politics and all to do with him wanting to share meals, stories…a bed.

He even stupidly wondered if she had met someone. He knew a good number of Fae had moved to the Wastes, knew there were plenty of males and females who whispered about her beauty, even while in the middle of battle back in Orynth. There was no way she hadn't received come-ons since then, especially when she was so venerated.

His letter had been titled 'Princeling' however, and Dorian was a little ashamed to admit that he kept the thing on his nightstand, if only because his budding and confusing feelings for her had only intensified.

His magic made him turn toward the window and through the dark he could've sworn-

The boom of wings, familiar even after all these months apart made his heart skip a beat and Dorian didn't care that it was barely dawn and he looked like he had not slept since getting there, the king sped out of there like he was being chased, going out into the emptied courtyard that had been prepped for this very reason and watching, entranced, as a small adult wyvern landed on the dirt ground a few feet in front of him.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her white hair was unbound and wind-kissed, falling alluringly over her shoulders in a way that made him want to run his hands through it. The face was what really blew him away though, especially with that small smile that made his chest feel tight.

Manon Blackbeak-Crochan dropped down from her wyvern in one swift motion and watched him carefully, the smile still in place as she said, "hello, princeling."

There were a million questions he wanted to ask, a million things he wanted to tell her, but he only grinned back. "Hello, witchling," he breathed out before walking forward.

The fresh spring sunrise, even in Anielle, made her absolutely shimmer and Dorian hesitated for only a moment before he asked, "can-may we hug?"

Manon seemed to need a few seconds before she focused on what he was saying, as if she had been drinking him in too. He didn't have to wait for an answer as she went forward herself and oh, he could have melted at the hug, at the feeling of her pressed against him, the scent of winter winds and cool night air enveloping him, filling in an emptiness he hadn't even realized existed before.

Home.

That's what she felt like.

Dorian hadn't noticed how tightly he was hugging her until he felt a wiggle, and he moved away, apologies on his lips before he caught the expression on her face.

"Sorry, someone doesn't like being squished."

Confusion overtook him as Manon unbuttoned the top part of her leathers. Dorian's jaw dropped as the cutest kitten he had ever seen popped it's little white and gray head out, meowing loudly. "Oh, my Wyrd," he exclaimed as the witch took the little creature out and cradled it delicately in her hands.

"This is Nieve," she muttered.

Regaining his manhood, Dorian held back a squeal. "You got a kitten?" He asked and the face she made had him chuckling.

"I suppose I did," Manon said as the king patted the little one's head and the kitten blinked large green eyes at him. From her tone, he wondered who among Glennis, Petrah, and Brownen had managed to convince her to keep it. Maybe a mix of all three.

When Nieve meowed again, Dorian spoke. "We should go inside, just in case she gets too cold."

Manon turned to Abraxos just as a guard bowed low to both of them. "We have accommodations for your wyvern, Your Majesty."

The witch seemed surprised, and after a look of confirmation from Dorian who knew that the stable had been outfitted to fit a wyvern comfortably, she nodded to the guard. A quick goodbye to Abraxos, who sniffed at the kitten once before giving a slight nuzzle to Manon and they were inside the fortress walking along the hallway Dorian had been sprinting through only minutes before.

"Would you like to hold her?" Manon asked after a moment and Dorian tried to keep his excitement in as he nodded.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring any guards with you," he said as the kitten took one look at who was holding her and attempted to climb the new obstacle. The obstacle being Dorian's chest.

"They'll be here in a couple of hours, once they notice I'm gone."

Dorian laughed. "And I thought I was being sneaky when I left my tower two weeks ago through the window. Took my guards about an hour to notice I was gone, and the panic that spread was so intense, I haven't tried it again."

Manon huffed in amusement as she took in the barren walls and old sconces doting the hallway. "I wanted to get here first." She looked at him then, and despite having a kitten trying to climb up his head using surprisingly sharp claws, he was struck by her expression. Gods, she was beautiful.

"I'm glad you got here first," he answered sincerely. Before he got too distracted and tried to kiss her, he added, "Lord Westfall has a room prepped for you on the other side of the fortress. I can take you there if you want or…"

Unsure of where they stood, he met those burnt gold eyes and wondered how he was going to stop his heart from breaking if she decided to stay away from him, even if they were still in the same building.

"Or?" She asked.

He smiled, red tinting his cheeks. "Or you could stay with me."

They stared at each other for a moment, Dorian wondering if he had been too forward. Manon opened her mouth-

"I thought I heard a wyvern land," someone else interrupted, and it took a second for the King of Adarlan to turn his gaze.

Yrene stood before them, in a lovely spring dress that complemented her eyes and left space for her large belly. Her smile was wide as she took in Manon. "Your Majesty," she said happily as she gave a short bow in the witch's direction.

Manon raised an eyebrow as she nodded back. "Hello Yrene, you know you don't have to call me that."

Yrene just waved her off before those hazel eyes bulged. "Is that a kitten?!"

By the time they had made it to the common room, Yrene had been hissed and pawed at twice before Manon could convince the tiny cat that she wasn't an enemy wanting to take her away.

Chaol's father, Lord Westfall sat at the front of a large fireplace his son speaking to him in a low voice next to him. Dorian didn't need to use his magic to know the King's Hand was trying desperately to have his father behave in front of foreign royalty. He couldn't wait to see how the Lord of Anielle and the Witch-Queen would interact.

Chaol noticed them first and cleared his throat before lowering his head as far as his spine would allow. With Yrene's progressing pregnancy, he had less help from her magic and would need his chair more often, not that it concerned him. "Your Majesty," he greeted sternly, "welcome to Anielle. Thank you for joining us."

Dorian smiled at his friend, who gave his father a quick look as the old man spoke. "So, you're the Witch-Queen?" He paused and observed Manon closely. "I hope the title was gained through your competence and not your looks."

Chaol appeared absolutely mortified, while Yrene and Dorian shared a wide look. Manon, however, was calm as could be as she simply said, "your home is lovely."

Lord Westfall seemed unconvinced. "Yes, well, please do not interrupt the work being done here." If the old man meant the work Dorian and Chaol had been doing with the ruhkin or the fact that the man had gotten into his head that he somehow had influence over any sort of decision made by Adarlan, Dorian couldn't begin to guess.

His witchling only gave the lord a smile that would send lesser men running. "I'm sure with a king like the one you have; nothing will hinder any work you have going." Dorian could have kissed her as he held back a grin.

A sneer was her answer, but then Lord Westfall seemed to notice something, especially as it meowed several times and made Yrene scramble to keep the little one in her arms. He outright glared at Manon, and Dorian knew for a fact that the man had never encountered a witch before, or he would have been extensively more careful with what he said and did around someone who could literally skin him alive without much effort.

"Animals of any kind are not allowed within these walls. They carry and propagate diseases. I'm sure the stablemen can find a spot for the beast outside this keep."

As amusing as it was watching Chaol's father face off against Manon, there was a line being drawn here that Dorian was not a fan of letting it be crossed. "With how good the witch healers are, I'm sure Nieve carries no diseases," he informed charmingly, "and you are speaking to royalty here, Lord Westfall, I'm sure Her Majesty will keep the kitten secure."

The man only scowled before asking to be dismissed as his breakfast would be served soon and he preferred eating alone.

"Good riddance," Yrene muttered, low enough for only Manon and Dorian to hear and causing both of them to smile. When they were finally out of earshot and able to breathe better Chaol, who had followed after them, let out a breath in relief.

"Now that that's over with…breakfast?"

Even though she nodded along with Dorian and Yrene, Manon went for Nieve. "I should set her up in a room first, it's been a long trip and she's very hungry." Considering how the kitten was meowing like it truly was near starvation, Manon was wise to want to feed her.

"I think I'd be screaming just as loudly if I wasn't a human," Yrene cut in, "come love, I need chocolate."

As Chaol was dragged away in his chair, both Manon and Dorian chuckled as they overheard him say "chocolate for breakfast? I think not" followed by a low growl that made Dorian glad he wasn't at the receiving end of.

Left alone with a loud kitten, the king swallowed nervously as he faced Manon. "So-"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"What?"

"I'd like to share a room with you," Manon clarified and as he smiled, she added, "just as long as you don't mind some extra company." She lifted the kitten, who mewled like she knew they were talking about her.

Dorian bowed low, "I'd be honored." ________________________________________________________________

Manon

Her witches arrived a little earlier than she expected, and Manon wondered what Dorian was thinking when one of her two guards, a young Yellowlegs witch named Ash snarled at her for leaving without them. That spitfire attitude and her intense loyalty were the main reasons Manon herself had selected the witch from among many volunteers.

"You do know she is our queen, right? Regardless of how thoughtless some of her decisions are you should show respect."

Manon narrowed her eyes at her other guard, a Crochan witch who appeared and acted more like a Blackbeak with dark hair and eyes called Skye. Where Ash was all recklessness and fire, Skye was the calm before the storm, intelligent and logical. Brownen had introduced her to Manon not two days after their arrival at the Wastes, and she had proven herself enough that she stood here now, a soot-black wyvern in tow.

"I expected you both an hour from now," was the only thing Manon replied as the wyverns were led to the stables where Abraxos was currently staying in. "Nice job."

"A test?!" Ash demanded, enraged.

Manon only shrugged, uncaring as she faced Dorian, who was eyeing the two witches with an expression the Witch-Queen didn't want to identify. He caught himself as Skye remembered her manners. "Your Majesty," she said, bowing at Dorian. "I am Skye Crochan and this fool is Ash Yellowlegs."

The Yellowlegs scoffed, but joined in on the bow, her wild tangle of blond hair barely contained within her war braids. Dorian smiled at them both, the expression from before now gone. "It's nice to meet you both."

He met eyes with Manon, "ready for the ruhkin?"

The witch nodded, going over what he had told her as she had prepared a small pen for Nieve to stay in back in their room and after a shared breakfast of eggs, meats, and toast. The ruhkin and the wyvern eggs had been camping out near Anielle for the past few months on a nearby mountain that had a road which connected to the town below. Ideally, they would be moving to the Ferian Gap, if not to live there permanently, then to use it as a place to train both wyverns and riders until they were ready to return to Rifthold. Ruhks were also brought in, to Manon's surprise, and new hatchlings would be raised and trained next to wyverns, both to get them used to each other and form bonds.

During her time in the Wastes, Manon had taken up lessons and read books on history and culture. It had been slow to start at first, especially when her thoughts would constantly drift, but it had been worth it and when Dorian introduced her to Iaras and Nebur, a pair of sibling riders that had been chosen to lead the host in Adarlan she was at least partially acquainted with their culture and hierarchy.

The duo, who didn't particularly look like siblings apart from being of the same territory, had bowed and offered a greeting in Halha to which she responded in kind. The silence afterward had made her blink, wondering if her pronunciation had been wrong and she had said something offensive in its place.

"You speak Halha?" Iaras had asked, her voice deep and fitting for her stature, as tall or taller than Dorian even when she was a woman.

Manon had understood the question but reverted back to the common tongue. "I've only learned some of the basics. A family that had been based in Antica and fought in the war decided to make the Wastes their home with us. One of the older siblings had been a scholar and offered to tutor me every so often." For some reason, Dorian had stared at her like she was a different person, the admiration being mirrored in the siblings' faces. It made Manon fall quiet.

Nebur grinned, his ruggedly handsome face crinkling. "You honor us, Your Majesty, you seem to be as lovely as you look."

The clear suggestive tone made Manon raise an amused eyebrow as Dorian cleared his throat and Iaras shook her head. "Ignore him, Your Majesties, he is shameless. Please, let us show you how we keep the hatchlings before you decide to end this whole thing altogether."

Manon had been impressed by the resourcefulness of the ruhkin. Not only did their camp appear more like a town than a temporary garrison, the little information they got from the witches before the leave in Orynth was used to the fullest. They utilized greenhouses to simulate a warm nesting ground and positioned the few grown wyverns they had in strategic places where makeshift aeries had been made of wood and lightweight brick.

The camp itself had the tents and small buildings where hearths and living spaces were kept. A small market and school were even present in the center plaza, which consisted of a recently built stone well that served as the village center. At this altitude even the warmth of spring couldn't reach, and snow still covered most of the open areas. The cold reminded Manon of the Wastes and she wondered how exactly Dorian noticed her distraction when he had asked about her thoughts whilst in the middle of their tour.

They ended up staying for a good number of hours planning, meeting, and looking over the grown wyverns, the handful of hatchlings, and the eggs. Although Manon had very little experience with young wyverns, an Overseer back in Morath had spent a week showing her the pens within the mountains and taught her about how they figured out when and where to separate wyverns and if a hatchling was even viable to begin with.

The rukhin siblings had listened to her closely, even with Nebur's charming compliments whenever she had something to say. After sharing a lunch with a group of potential wyvern riders, Manon and Dorian finally made their way back to the forest directly next to the Westfall fortress. They had chatted excitedly the entire way, and Manon felt herself smiling more than she ever had, especially when the king seemed to be as interested in the development of the aerial legion as she had.

There was a moment, however, where Dorian stopped, and Manon felt a hint of nerves as he waited for her to stand next to him. His smile was still present, which kept her worries at bay, but the way he was looking at her made the witch reconsider their day together. She supposed there was still much to talk about, and although they were sharing a room, neither had made a move for intimacy, not that it had been easy to do with the schedule they carried.

"I know there are a lot of things right now that need our attention," he began and the way the sun reflected on his dark hair, a bit longer than she last saw him, made him look all the more beautiful. "And I also know that despite all the good news going on with our kingdoms, there is still a lot of work to be done."

Manon nodded, because he seemed to need it. Slowly, tantalizingly, Dorian lifted a hand and when he placed it on her cheek, she couldn't help but get closer, her eyes dropping to his lips. Yes, there were many things to talk about, many questions unanswered, but there had been a need building within her from the moment she saw him. She could see it in his eyes too, the want to be alone.

"I'm surprised it took you this long, princeling," she teased, her voice dropping into a purr that made his eyes flash.

Warmth began to pool in her belly as he leaned down. His hand dropped from her neck to her waist, the blatant possession breaking the fog she had been living with and replacing it with sapphire-colored starlight. He smirked as his lips brushed hers. "It's worth it, the wait for you."

Manon couldn't help herself as she initiated the kiss, closing the distance and tasting home as he responded readily, as hungry as she was. Her hands traveled up from his hips to his neck and the groan he gave her only made her want him closer. She might have said it into the kiss, because Dorian was suddenly picking her up, her legs hooking around his waist as he placed her against a tree.

Manon would have allowed him to take her right there if he wanted to, even with the cold or potentially prying eyes, but he broke the kiss and when she growled in protest he chuckled.

"As much as I would like to have you against this tree," he told her as he pressed his body against hers causing Manon to breath out. "I want to take all the time I need while I worship you."

She went for his face and kissed him again, but it was softer this time, more a promise than anything else. "We do share a room," Manon muttered and the smile he gave her made her consider just stripping off everything right there and then instead of waiting until they got to the room. ________________________________________________________________

Dorian

It was almost painful to extricate himself from her, to place the witch down and settle for holding her hand as they both hurried to the fortress. Dorian took her through the servant quarters, avoiding anyone that came close and stealing kisses as they went as if they were in one of the many romance novels he enjoyed reading.

They had time to themselves until dinner, and Dorian would make sure he spent that time wisely. As they passed the last corner that lead into their room, his mind already coming up with ways to enjoy themselves, Manon suddenly froze. So intense was her change, that Dorian's magic surged as it searched for the source of her fear. Because it was fear that was going through her as she said, "the door is open."

Thinking she could sense someone in there, Dorian used his magic to check ahead, but when he found nothing, he just looked back at her. The witch went for the door and when he followed her in, he finally understood. Although everything in the room was untouched and their things were exactly where they left them, just as the door, the small balcony screen was wide open, the chill air making the curtains rustle.

Manon dropped in front of the small pen she had so carefully prepared that morning, the blankets and toys were tossed around, but the small box filled with hay so that the kitten had a place to relieve itself in the corner was untouched. Only the food was gone, which the kitten had eaten while he and Manon had still been in the room. He remembered they had left the little one cuddled up to a stuffed toy under a blanket, warm and safe.

"We'll find her, alright?" Dorian said as he went to the balcony and prayed the kitten wasn't splattered on the cobblestone below. He rushed back into the room when he saw nothing of the sort or any evidence that the kitten had been out in the balcony at all. "She must be somewhere close."

But Manon wasn't listening and as the king stopped his searching for long enough to notice he knew Chaol had been right. She was on her knees, head tilted down, shoulders in, looking as broken and sad as she had that first night he found her in the aerie next to Abraxos back in Orynth.

His heart broke at the sight, at the thoughts that had filled his mind all day when he saw her smile and joke and wanting him. He shouldn't have let what he saw on the surface fool him. Manon wasn't fine, she was thinner, had gone ahead of her sentinels because she couldn't sleep, and although interested in what ruhkin were doing with the wyverns he had caught her losing focus and being distracted. And although she ate that morning and during lunch the portions had been meager, as if she couldn't bring herself to eat more.

Stupid of him, to ignore it all because he had been living in his own little perfect fantasy. Selfish of him too, especially because what he saw now was a witch who had been walking on glass since she left Orynth and a single wrong step would send her crashing. The kitten going missing was the breaking point.

Determination filled him as Dorian focused. He would help his witchling, and make sure he wouldn't make the same mistake again. Manon's sentinels had been left back at the camp to help with some of the grown wyverns and there had been no guards in front of their room because there had been no one in there to guard. Except for a tiny, very important, kitten. Whatever had happened, there probably hadn't been any witnesses.

So the king reached out with his magic and searched for Yrene with it, letting her know that he needed help with a brush against her own healing magic. He wouldn't leave Manon's side, even when he knew every second counted when it came to retrieving Nieve.

Both Chaol and Yrene came soon after, along with a half dozen guards, and while the healer immediately went to Manon, Dorian quickly explained to Chaol what had happened. The man nodded along with what his king said and Dorian had never loved his brother as much as he did that moment when Chaol only said, "I'll handle it, stay with her." ________________________________________________________________

Chaol

Chaol Westfall did not spend much time observing the witch or the fact that his wife was quietly trying to get Manon to lower her hands from her ears, as if the broken Witch-Queen had wanted to shut all sound out.

He turned to Dorian. "I'll handle it, stay with her."

The king thanked him, relieved, and the Hand didn't think too long on how terrified Dorian was, the concern so deeply etched in his face that Chaol feared the man was already too far down in his love for the witch to get back up.

So, he did what any friend would do. What any brother would do.

He took care of it.

With a quick motion, he ordered all the guards out of the room. Once in the hallway he sent five of the six away in search of the cat. To the last one he asked, "where's my father?"

Because nothing went on in the fortress without his father knowing and the fact that both the door and the balcony screen had been open while nothing had been taken was a clear indication that this entire thing could be internally orchestrated. Despite the letters Chaol, his mother, and brother now shared and even when his father seemed at least pleased that Chaol was about to become a father himself, the man still had plenty of problems that they still had to work on.

Hardly relying on his cane with the surge of Yrene's healing magic coursing through him, the King's Hand practically barreled through the double doors that led to his father's study on the western edge of the complex.

Lord Westfall glared daggers at him as Chaol made his way to the desk. "You may be my son, but barging in like this is-"

"Where's the cat?" Chaol cut in, his voice as sharp as the look he was receiving from his father.

Lord Westfall didn't even bother to look surprised as he asked, bitterly, "what cat?"

Knowing nightfall was approaching and also aware of how this was affecting not just Manon, but her entire kingdom, Chaol cut all corners. "You're going to listen to what I'm about to tell you and you will not, under any circumstances, interrupt me. Am I clear?"

There was pure distaste in his father's eyes, but the man said nothing as he sat back in his expensive leather chair. At least he was willing to listen.

"Manon Blackbeak not only defied and fought against her own people for the good of Erilea and the world, she aided Terassen in its call for help, saved your King on two separate occasions, risked her life multiple times, and was a key player in keeping all of us safe and alive. And because I know your memory seems to fail you in your old age, she also lost her entire family that day and she is still grieving heavily because of it."

He paused to take breath and to also allow the words to settle and permeate.

"So not only is she a new queen of a new kingdom, she also has to deal with uniting a people who had been at war for centuries, protecting her new vulnerable borders, and actively form alliances. She's here to help us, help Adarlan, when she could have refused. And she is doing all this while having lost all twelve of her sisters mere months ago. I know you heard Yrene when she spoke to me this morning on how pets can help tremendously in the grieving process. So, not only do you insult her presence here by telling her animals are not allowed but after knowing how deep her grief is you decide to be the villain and take her cat too?"

Fury danced freely in Chaol's eyes, his hand shaking as he gripped his cane so hard his knuckles were beginning to hurt. Because he knew what pain was, had watched Dorian go through it, Aelin, had experienced it himself while in the southern continent. He was done with it and he was not about to let his own father continue to propagate it.

Lord Westfall's jaw shifted, his teeth gritted, as he took his time arranging the papers on his large mahogany desk and cleared his throat.

When Chaol was about to tell him that he would do nothing to protect him if Dorian came down for a talk later, the man spoke. "I had a servant take the cat to the stables with Her Majesty's wyvern. I'm sure the two beasts are fine."

The King's Hand wasted no time, slamming the door to the study behind him as he practically ran to the stables, ignoring the stinging in his back as he did so. The wyverns all had large open wooden stables built to the north side of the fortress, on the highest elevated part of the structure, and remained free to hunt and roam in the nearby forest for game and, in Abraxos' case, to lay in the new spring flowers that bloomed even in Anielle. The issue with these stables was how cold it could get. While the wyverns enjoyed it, Chaol worried the tiny cat wouldn't be able to survive the temperature for very long.

The man had no need to worry as he spotted Abraxos curled up in the middle of the five stables, the two other wyverns that had come with the witches were busy snoozing closer to the tree line. Unused to being so close to Abraxos, and mindful that his rider wasn't here, Chaol kept his distance as the scarred head turned to him.

"Um, hello Abraxos."

Did wyverns understand? What kind of commands did this ancient animal even know?

"Is the kitten-is Nieve with you?" Please just let the kitten be alive, please.

Impossibly, Abraxos perked at the sound of the cat's name and the wyvern carefully lifted its spread wing to reveal a tiny little bundle curled up against the scale-less stomach. Alive, breathing, and meowing loudly as it spotted Chaol watching even from the relative distance.

"Okay, don't eat me, I just want to take the cat back to Manon, okay?" He told Abraxos, feeling dumb the entire time. "I'm taking Nieve to Manon," he repeated slowly.

That large tail started moving, and Chaol swore the wyvern was watching him in amusement as the man inched forward until he was practically within the stable. Heart beating fast, Chaol muttered about the many ways Dorian would repay him as he took the kitten and backed away like Abraxos might reconsider and take a chunk out of him. ________________________________________________________________

Dorian

It felt like an eternity since Chaol had left with the guards and when he came back. Dorian had felt utterly powerless as Manon had succumbed further into a spiral, looking for all intents and purposes utterly defeated. Not even Yrene's whispers of comfort got through her, and although Dorian wanted to help, he had no idea of what to say, because he recognized the look in her glazed eyes. He had experienced something similar when he lost Sorscha, when he had been trapped by the Wyrdstone collar, a Valg prince inside him.

He had been softly stroking her hair when Chaol rushed in, breathing heavily and leaning into his cane while in his free hand-

Yrene stood up with an 'oh!,' before taking the kitten, tears already forming in her eyes as she went back to Manon and Dorian. The latter spoke. "Nieve's right here, Manon. She's fine and safe. Chaol found her."

Recognizing the witch, the kitten positively screamed, fighting against Yrene and dropping into Manon's waiting hands. As if a veil had been lifted, that beautiful face regained motion and Dorian felt emotion rise within him as he watched her lift the purring kitten and take her close to her chest.

She looked behind them, to Chaol, who was still catching his breath. "Thank you."

Even Dorian smiled at the redness in his Hand's cheeks as the man bowed. "Anytime, Your Majesty." ________________________________________________________________

*'Nieve' is Spanish for 'snow' and is pronounced knee-eh-veh. Within tog the cat isn't a specific breed, but for the sake of how I imagine her, Nieve is a white and gray Siberian Cat, so she's going to grow quite big and fluffy.

Tags: @rufousnmacska (my lovely beta), @awesomelena555, @bookishwitchling  If you’d like to be included in the tags, please let me know!

Thank you! My other Manorian fics.

[ramblings-of-a-gen-z-teen]

Ten Years of a Better World - A Post Kingdom of Ash Fanfic

The Wastes

Manon stands in front of the people of the Wastes, both Witches under her rule and Assassin’s under Ansel of Briarcliff’s rule. “Denizens of the Wastes, I am sure you’ve all heard about the upcoming absence of both I, Ansel of Briarcliff and the witch clan leaders, Bronwyn and Petrah, leaving Giuliana Yellowlegs and Eira Blackbeak in charge.” The witch clan all look to their respective leaders, the Crochans to Bronwyn, the Bluebloods to Petrah, the Yellowlegs to Giuliana, and the Blackbeaks to Eira. “We are departing tomorrow for a gathering of the lands rulers in Orynth to commemorate ten years of a better home. It is especially significant to us, the Witches, because it has also been ten years since we broke the curse and regained our homeland.” Cheers breakout through the crowd but are quickly hushed as Manon continues to speak at the same volume. “When we are back from Orynth there will be a week long festival to celebrate the defeat of Erawan and Maeve, and the reclaiming of our homeland.” Manon turns around and walks back to where Ansel is standing behind her and mutters, “Ten years of this and I still hate having to act regal, and respectable.” Ansel smirks at her as she walks forward to address her assassins, “Good evening my handsome rogues. I am not going to repeat everything our lovely Queen Manon has just said,” she flashes a grin at Manon, “but what I am going to say is… Play nice, meaning keep your hands and knives to yourselves, sparring is acceptable but no brawling. I’m looking at you Derrick,” Many assassins turn laughing to one particularly red assassin, “anyway, I’m leaving you under the authority of the witch clan leaders as well, so basically don’t kill anyone and I won’t kill you when I get back.” Ansel throws Manon a smug grin as she swaggers towards her wyvern.

The sun barely peeks over the horizon as the four women prepare their wyverns and brooms. Ansel buckles a saddle onto her wyvern, Arya, as Petrah and Bronwyn check their brooms for imperfections - they have a long flight ahead of them. Manon, however, is already in the skies eager to abandon her queenly duties to the wind. Flying is the only time she can just be herself, not a queen. She breathes the chill morning air and closes her eyes. Dorian used to be freeing like the wind but now there’s another duty, parenthood. Time alone with Dorian is hard to find with a two-year-old running around. She opens her eyes and looks at the land beneath her. The once infertile wastelands now lush with green grass, forests, farms and flowers. She did this. She brought life back to the wastes. Manon’s thoughts are interrupted as the others join her in the skies.

As the sun reaches its crux Ansel peels off from the group to pick up Ilias, also on his way to Orynth. The others lift a hand in farewell before Ansel shouts, the wind carrying her voice back to them, "Race you to Rifthold, losers!" Arya beats her mighty wings launching them faster into the distance.

As they fly they talk of the time they are about to commemorate, the time when they were just allies not friends, when they didn't know if they could trust each other.  Manon was never a very trusting person, she had her thirteen and that was it, but now they're gone. She had no one for a while but in this time of peace Manon has grown, she's opened herself up, and learnt to trust because of it. Her, Petrah and Bronwyn are as good friends now as they had once been good enemies and she is glad of it.

Petrah's tears are whipped away by the wind as she talks of Keelie. Her wyvern. She loved Keelie and no longer felt life was worth living when Keelie was killed. Once she had avenged Keelie and the war was over there was no one forcing her to ride a wyvern, so now she doesn’t. She could never choose to ride another wyvern. She loved Keelie and will never love another as much as she had her. Even Manon sheds a tear as Petrah talks. She thinks of Asterin and wonders if Abraxos is thinking of Narene as they fly towards the place both rider and wyvern died.

Finally, the Ferian Gap comes into view. The three witches are ready for a warm meal and a good nights rest after their long flight. Chaol stands waiting for them in the aerie when they arrive. He smiles wearily as they approach, he looks tired but happy. Manon knows she will see the same expression on Dorian’s face when they arrive in Rifthold tomorrow. One night in Anielle and then see will see him again, Dorian.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

[bitchryver]

Part 1: This is long ask anon here to complain because I just... i can’t deal with how this fandom portrays dorian havilliard and i need to let it out once in a while. This is probably gonna be a long word vomit and first i want to say that everyone is entitled to their own opinion and interpretation and this whole thing might be a bit subjective but i feel like people either ignore canon or take what’s canon and than twist it up so so much that shsssjsjk

Pt 2: Anyway Fandom Dorian Havilliard is a Woke Sensitive Sexy Sad Boi who everyone feels sorry for and deserves happiness because Aelin chose Chaol instead of him and then treated him Badly (and because Sorscha died and he possessed by a valg prince and those are valid reasons but here is my wild take: Dorian didn’t suffer more than Aelin or Elide or Lysandra or even Manon who was after all emotionally and physically abused by her grandmother for over 100 years. People love saying there are a 

Pt 3: lot of parallels between manon and dorian so that manorian would make sense yet I don’t see anybody crying about the fact that manon didn’t have any real agency her entire life. I mean sure she could make battles plans and go out flying but she had no real control over anything. Even her view of the world was her grandmother’s Their entire nation was basically brainwashed. And Aelin, an 8 year-old kid under Arobynn? Yeah, not exactly in control of her own destiny. Not to mention endovier 

Pt 4: Elide and Lysandra? The cadre under the blood oath? My point is nobody in this series had it easy. I know it’s not the same thing as being possessed by a valg but still. There’s this constant bias Also how is Dorian the kindest and most compassionate and sensitive character in tog? Let me remind everyone of the first book when dorian was spending time with his pure-blooded puppies yet he had no trouble killing the mutt who wouldn’t listen to anyone. And it was AELIN who stepped in and 

Pt 5: asked him to save fleetfoot. Aelin who freed those slaves. Aelin who saved Yrene. Aelin who saved Manon, her enemy because she was moved by Asterin’s scream. Speaking of which does anyone remember when Manon saved Petrah, who she considered a rival, for a similar reason even if she had always been punished for any display of mercy or compassion. Or when Manon chose Abraxos, a small and damaged bait beast to be her mount. Or when Manon saved Elide. Yeah,good times.Lysandra taking Evangeline 

Pt 6: under her protection. None of them had anything to gain through their action but they still did it. That’s what an empathetic person does. And dorian…let me think of one moment when dorian was kind for any other reason than trying to Get The Girl. Dorian wouldn’t have done shit about fleetfoot if Aelin wasn’t his love interest and he wouldn’t have tried to free manon on that ship if he didn’t want to get in her pants. So i present to you canon Dorian Havilliard:

Pt 7: The Mary Sue of Magic (yeah, that was me), a Privileged White Boi used to getting what he wants all the time who had one bad thing happen to him and now he is Depressed (which he is entitled to of course) That doesn’t mean Manon should be making a trip to rifthold every friday to keep dorian happy. Sidenote: had anyone noticed how manon seems to be more actively involved in their relationship? She gets angry cause she’s worried, she walks into his tent and asks him for advice, she tries to

Pt 8: keep him safe and Privileged Boi Dorian expects her to do all that while he acts cold whenever he feels he isn’t getting his way. I still don’t get their relationship, nor do I feel any chemistry but once again Canon Manorian is not the same as Fandom Manorian. In fact anything involving Dorian is slightly distorted in the fandom This is the longest thing I’ve ever written but i was so Done and angry. And this time i made screenshots of everything cause i just know tumblr will eat my asks

babe

[thesffcorner]

Deadly Class Vol. 3

Deadly Class Vol. 3 collects issues 13 to 18 of the series. It takes off immediately where vol. 2 left off, with Maria caught by Chico’s family, and Willie rushing to save Marcus from certain death. From there, we move into some wankery, until we get to graduation; and then it turns into Battle Royale. Look, I’m not gonna sugar coat it; I don’t like this series. At this point, I’m mostly reading because I want to be caught up with the show, and seeings as I’m hearing rumors that graduation will be where the show ends, I have to read on. I will say that this volume was marginally better than the last one, but that’s only by the virtue of 2 issues, and neither was enough to salvage the whole for me. Like last time, I think we should go issue by issue, starting with issue 13. This was hands down the best issue in this volume, and the series thus far. For starters it focuses on the two best characters in the series, Maria and Willie; it also gives them an actual character arc, especially Maria, who we have seen go through so much violence and grief, and pain, only to become this incredible force of nature. The action in this issue is top notch; Craig’s art has never looked better, and it actually gave me hope that the series would finally pick up and improve. And then we get to the ending, and Maria, the most interesting character thus far gets poisoned, and I immediately tuned out. Issue 14 starts several weeks after Maria ‘disappears’ from the school. Marcus is back on his bullshit again, and spends literary the whole issue drunk, high or both and it was so unpleasant and uninteresting to read. The pacing grounds to a screeching halt, as we are forced to deal with yet more relationship drama, this time a love triangle between Willie, Saya and Marcus (CAN WE PLEASE STOP WITH THE LOVE TRIANGLES??), and Marcus being absolutely unhinged. I get that he’s supposed to be an unlikable main character, but there’s a fine line between that, and so bad and such a shit human, that you are genuinely wondering why ANYONE wants to read about him! The issue ends with Marcus coming to a realization that makes some modicum of sense, and that’s literally the only good thing (well that and Craig’s art, but that’s standard at this point). Issue 15 has Marcus try and convince Billie of his conclusion, and a confrontation with Saya that’s just as annoying as you think it would be. Neither character is willing to (or even capable, seeing as Marcus is piss drunk or high or both at LITERARY any point in this book) actually talk, so it’s just a screaming match, that gets overheard by Viktor, the Russian kid who gives Marcus an ultimatum; he confesses to Master Lin that Willie, Saya and Billie got Lex and Chico killed, or he rats them all out. There’s another trippy sequence, Marcus sleeps with yet another disposable character, Petra, and we are introduced to a new guy, Kendall, who has a “all girls are sluts speech”. The amount of girl hate in this book is honestly astounding; all the female characters are written as either crazy, jealous, bitches or a combo of all of them, and I almost wonder why Remender even bothered including female characters, if he hates writing them so much. Issue 16 starts with Kendall telling Marcus to get his shit together, which is what this whole volume has repeatedly consisted off. Marcus visits an OBGYN, since he thinks he has gonorrhea (wouldn’t that be nice), and the rest of the issue is him planning on killing Viktor while Viktor is running. He fucks up, because of course he does and we get to what this whole volume has been building up to: graduation. Master Lin orders the school to kill the rats, and a massive Battle Royale starts. Issue 17 sees groups being made between the different students, most of which I absolutely don’t care about. There are several major subplots; the main one concerns Shabnam, Marcus’ annoying, fat roommate, who has been a snitch all the time, teaming up with Viktor to kill anyone he doesn’t like. Shabnam is exactly the type of character you are supposed to love to hate, but I just plain hate him; he’s disgusting even by this series’ standards. Another subplot concerns Willie’s old crew wanting to kill him, yet another concerns Kendall and his boyfriends Stephen and I mostly didn’t care. I don’t know any of these characters enough, and I have no investment in whether they live or die. Knowing Remender’s writing, Kendall and Stephen are already dead, as we can’t have non straight characters in this show, and I’m shocked Willie lived this long, considering he’s both black, and not a horrible person. Speaking of Willie, issue 18 has some development for him and Saya; I’d actually find their little scene romantic if I didn’t absolutely hate Saya and know that she and Marcus are endgame (or whatever this series’ equivalent will be). The only other thing I remotely cared about was the subplot about Kendall, but I have lost all hope of anything like this being remotely sensitively dealt with. As for Marcus, he manages to escape with Billie, Petrah and a literal red shirt, while Master Lin orders Saya and Willie to kill Marcus. I would be tense, if this series had made me like Marcus at all. I want to point something out before I go. I have said, time and time again, that I think Marcus is a well written characters. He has gone through hell. But so have a lot of the other characters in this series, and only the ones that are meant to be villains are as hateful and horrible in their actions as Marcus is. He is toxic, and we are 18 issues in, and he has made no effort to change or grow as a character. I’m not sure what Remender’s goal is here, but the way Marcus’ character is handled, makes me worried that this series has no real point or drive; it’s just violence and murder for murder’s sake; and there’s nothing fun about that.

goodreads

[purple-eye-octopi]

WHAT WAS THAT LOOK BETWEEN TOLYA AND INEJ AS SHE GOT ON THE BOAT

WHAT WAS IT

ANSWER ME

[ofstarlightandfirehearts]

Kingdom of Ash

So it's been a few hours since I've finished KOA and I'm still nowhere near okay because so much happened in it - so much joy and also so much pain in this book. I loved every second of it.

Before I start on my thoughts on it (all under the cut to not spoil anyone) I just wanted to give a shout out to Sarah J Maas - for creating such beautiful, beautiful flawed, complex, very human characters in this beautiful world. It has been a wonderful ride, following this amazing, strong badass character go through her trials, her struggles and still being so unyielding, still so full of light and hope even in the face of darkness. I love Aelin's character so much. So... what I'm saying is... Thank you so much, Sarah.

Now, onward. Also... this will be lengthy.

I think the best way to do this is by characters and my favorite (heartbreaking) moments from each of them or around them in their chapters.

But first... Aelin, Dorian and Manon just... they shone through this entire book. All of them had their personal doubts about their task - CAN Dorian get all the Wyrdkeys, CAN Manon unite the Irontheeth and the Crochans, CAN Aelin live with herself if Dorian somehow forged the lock and CAN she let him do it, CAN she rule Terrasen if she were to find a way to live after forging the lock?

I had so much fun reading each of their POVs because these were the 3 rulers of the new world, that better world they all fought for, and yet how much they doubted how can they make it happen, will it happen, if it did happen how can or should they rule? There was a lot of internal struggle with them all. There were a lot of personal revelations for them along the way and it was really, a beautiful journey.

Okay, now for them all separately. The sections for Aelin, Dorian and Manon are gonna be long.

Aelin: - Her not being tricked by Maeve's mind games, holding on through Cairn's tortures all for Terrasen - that was her one thought that kept her from breaking: how can I protect Terrasen? - Her escaping Cairn and her running into Lorcan and Gavriel, and her screaming TAKE IT OFF TAKE IT OFF and then Rowan, bless him, trying to calm her down enough to try to get it off. That part just... that gutted me. - All the blood oaths... including Gavriel's. That was such a somber, beautiful moment. The one with Fenrys was just... amazing. She refused to let him stay there in that camp alone AND SHE BROUGHT HIM BACK TO LIFE.  - Her using her power - all that power she had kept pushing down to save for her showdown with Maeve - to save the soldiers (and Lorcan and Elide) at Anielle. That was some next level AMAZING, badass shit man. I will definitely be drawing this scene.  - Her falling through the worlds after forging the lock - after opting to save Elena over them taking Erawan with them... only to be betrayed by those stupid, ugly selfish gods... and then having Aelin get payback by unleashing literal hell on them in their realm.  -Her falling through the realms was so... cool. So cool. - AND WE ALSO GOT A CAMEO FROM THE WONDERFUL RHYS AND FEYRE. SHE FELL THROUGH EFFING VELARIS. I FREAKED. I'M STILL FREAKING. THAT WAS AN AMAZING WAY TO BRIDGE THE TWO SERIES.  - AELIN/CHAOL/DORIAN REUNION. 

- The comraderie between her and all the females in this series. Her and Hasar's fond bickering, same with her and Borte and Ansel. The faith and pride she had in Yrene and Elide. Her friendship with Lysandra will always be one of my favorite things about this series. The weight of the world that only she and Manon can understand up in the aerie after the battle and her support in Manon's loss. There were so many beautiful friendships between all the females in this book. THIS GIRL MAKES FRIENDS WHEREVER SHE GOES AND IT'S A BEAUTIFUL THING. - The final showdown - her playing with Erawan, trying to pit him against Maeve. And then after Erawan was carried away, her pulling her cadre out of their hallucinations, opening up that portal to allow the old Fae of Terrasen through, having Fenrys deliver his well-deserved killing blow to her. - Her coronation - the Little Folk coming to give her Mab's crown - LET'S JUST TALK ABOUT THEIR NEVERENDING SUPPORT OF AELIN THROUGH ALL THE BOOKS. AND LET'S GO BACK TO THE KING OF THE NORTH - THAT BEAUTIFUL STAG WHO LIT THE WAY FOR AELIN AND THE KHAGANATE TO GET TO ORYNTH. - Okay, Aelin's coronation - the procession, how she had all the females go down into the city with her because they all played just as huge of a part in the war. They honestly did so much.  - AELIN/CHAOL/DORIAN GOODBYE EVEN THOUGH IT'S NOT A FOREVER GOODBYE. LOOK, I SOBBED THROUGHOUT THAT WHOLE PART. MY BABIES. MY BEAUTIFUL BABIES WHO STARTED IT ALL, BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH AND LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH. I CANNOT.   - The ending - her waking up to the field of those flowers that were thought to be wiped from existence during the first siege all those years ago. Another scene I must draw. 

Dorian: - Dorian learning how to shapeshift was just... I wasn't expecting that at all. And he learned it so well from the Stygian spider - and the way he LEARNED how to do it - by digging into the spider's mind and finding that kernel of power and taking it for himself. - This poor kid is still so traumatized by what happened to Sorscha. And I know there's a lot of mixed feelings about Sorscha but honestly I liked her. His guilt over her, and also how he left Rifthold in ruins to flee. His doubts on ruling, can he rule, how will he be different from his Valg "father" and also the ultimate question he had to come to terms with: Was he himself part Valg, since his father's body was possessed by a Valg. - His friendship with the Thirteen. I just. And then at the end... that's who he looked up to the skies to find, not knowing he'd never find them in those skies... or any skies ever again (crying). - MORATH AND MAEVE. Those were some of the most stressful chapters of this book and I was worried for a bit, especially when Maeve found him. - THE WAY HE TRICKED MAEVE AND BROUGHT DOWN MORATH FROM THE INSIDE. THAT WAS BADASS, DORIAN. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU. I will also be drawing this.  - CHAORIAN REUNION. HIS REACTION WHEN HE SAW THAT CHAOL WAS STANDING. STANDING. AND THEN RUNNING TO HIM. THOSE STUPID, STUPID BEAUTIFUL BOYS AND THEIR STUPID BEAUTIFUL RELATIONSHIP. - Him desperately trying to reconnect himself with Aelin after Aelin pushed him back out the portal as she finished forging the lock by herself. The sheer panic Dorian had because he could not, would not let his friend do this alone. That was heartbreaking. - Dorian is so clever - I always forget how clever. His ruse at the end with Erawan - and as Yrene had him pinned down, him nonchalantly going, "Oh btw, I was the one who destroyed Morath." - I know a lot of people were kind of complaining about the lack of Manorian in the book but WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN. THIS BOOK WAS FULL OF MANORIAN. Their quiet support of each other. Them knowing each other so well - Dorian figured out Manon was the one who led the Ironteeth back to the Crochans to prove herself just like that. Him thinking of who he most wanted to be like when learning how to shapeshift himself, and he thought of Manon. - The ending where he wants wyverns as part of his aerial legion, and he wants Manon to come and teach those future riders how to fight, how to be.  - “What do you want.” You, all of you. GDI.  -THAT BIT WITH YRENE. "You could just get married." AND THEN DORIAN BLUSHES FURIOUSLY. BOY. YOU WANT TO BE WITH MANON. JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY.

Manon: - OKAY I'M JUST GONNA START IT OFF WITH THE THIRTEEN AND JUST HOW MUCH THEY LOVED MANON AND RESPECTED HER. SO MUCH THEY ALL SACRIFICED THEMSELVES FOR HER, THEY DID THEIR UNYIELDING SO SHE CAN HELP CREATE THAT BETTER WORLD THEY ALL WISHED FOR, EVEN IF THEY COULDN'T BE A PART OF IT, AS LONG AS MANON LIVED THAT'S ALL THEY CARED ABOUT. LOOK, I THINK I CRIED FOR THOSE ENTIRE 2 CHAPTERS AND THEN THROUGH HALF A THIRD CHAPTER. I'M STILL GETTING TEARY EYED THINKING ABOUT THEM. HOW DARE YOU SARAH. HOW DARE YOU. - That field of flowers, how everyone at Orynth paid their tributes to the Thirteen and Manon in the center of it, quietly mourning those beautiful, brave loyal twelve women who have done nothing but support her for all those years. I just can’t get over it. This will be the first scene that I draw.  - How Aelin promised that she would put up a statue, something to pay a permanent tribute to them.  - THE PART WITH ABRAXOS ALMOST DYING AND ALL ABRAXOS WANTED TO DO WAS SAVE MANON. JFC. AND MANON LITERALLY BEGGING ISKRA, HER ENEMY. TO LET ABRAXOS GO. - Manon's doubts over winning over the Crochans. It was a long, long process for her to do so but she kept at it, trying to earn their respect as much as she could. - The showdown between her and her grandmother and the Yellowlegs heir. Hells. yes. - The way the crown lit up as soon as it sat on Manon's head. You go girl. - I loved Glennis. - The passing of the eternal flame through all of those hearths in even the remotest parts of the country when the word went out their Crochan Queen needed them to fight for Terrasen. That was a powerful, powerful scene. - When she went to the Ferian Gap to speak to Petrah, to lay out the truth of what the Ironteeth at Morath planned to do - what her GRANDMOTHER planned to do - which made those Ferian Ironteeth rebel and join them against Morath. In other words... MANON WAS BORN TO LEAD.   - The end, when she sees Dorian and he realizes the Thirteen are not there. "I miss them." (CRYING) - I also love how she struggled to care, to feel that being a caring leader did not make her a weak one because that's what she was taught. A good leader does not care, they are ruthless and do what must be done - but Manon has always had a softer heart, even if she didn't want to admit it, and her caring... it made her a stronger leader. - Her realization that the curse had been broken - they all - Ironteeth and Crochans - can return to the Wastes. Because the curse finally, finally broke. Starting with the Thirteen's sacrifice. Even in death, they helped her get home. - Her promising to stop by Rifthold to pay our wonderful King of Adarlan a visit time to time.

Rowan + the cadre (minus Lorcan): - Rowan, you beautiful beautiful bird you. He was so relentless to get to Aelin and after finding her... his patience with Aelin afterwards, helping her train, helping her heal. - I'M SO ECSTATIC WE GOT ONE MORE CARRANAM SCENE WITH ROWAELIN IN THAT FINAL BATTLE. - Rowan exacting exquisite revenge on Cairn after finding out Cairn whipped Aelin. I think Cairn deserved an even more gruesome death than he recieved... and that death already was gruesome. - Rowan finding the strength to tear himself out of the hellish hallucination that Maeve played with him... with a little help from his Fireheart. - Rowan's reactions as Fenrys told Rowan little by little just what was done to Aelin in those months apart. - Listen, Rowan's farewell to Dorian and Chaol was just as emotional for me. - HOW MUCH HE JUST LOVES AELIN. THAT EVEN THOUGH HE'S HELLA ANGRY AT HER (Hello, forging the lock scene) HE LOVES HER SO MUCH AND THAT HE'LL TAKE HER ANY WAY, whether Aelin possessed exponential amounts of magic or not - he just loves her as she is. - How he noticed right away that she wasn't as warm as he remembered after she gave most of her magic to forge the lock. AND ALSO AFTER SHE JUST GOT BACK FROM DORANELLE. He could see she was faking most of that famous Aelin bravado and swagger. - Fenrys - god my heart broke for him so many times. He had to watch his brother literally kill himself because of the stupid blood oath to Maeve, HE couldn't do anything to stop it or help Aelin as Cairn tortured her over and over and over again... but it was the thought of Aelin being almost burned alive, that he knew she was being taught to fear the power that she loved so much that Fenrys fought and WON against the blood oath with Maeve.  - How he couldn't winnow because it reminded him of Connall and it hurt too much and Aelin understood why he couldn’t.  - Fenrys being that lifeline to Aelin during those months too, and it never stopped being their personal form of communication even after they were rescued from Maeve. I loved the relationship between Aelin and Fenrys. - Gavriel - everything he did was to get back to his son, and by god, he did get back to Aedion just in time... TO SACRIFICE HIMSELF. JFC KIDS. STOP SACRIFICING YOURSELVES. - Also, Gavriel, was that really necessary? Was it? - Gavriel being the gentle voice of reason, of being super sweet with Elide, using his magic to brace her leg. Also for being the buffer between Lorcan and Elide, which could not have been more awkward of a situation to be in. But he did it without complaint. - THE CADRE'S TRIBUTE TO GAVRIEL IN THAT ROOM AS THEY SUNG THE SONGS OF OLD TO HONOR THEIR FRIEND WHO HAD FALLEN FOR NO GREATER CAUSE THAN TO AEDION (and Terrasen).

Elide/Lorcan: - Lorcan. Lorcan, Lorcan. You big lovestruck idiot. The entire book he tried so hard to get Elide to forgive him. - I was LEGIT scared he was gonna die in Anielle. BUT ELIDE CAME AND SAVED HIS ASS. And she would not let him go, even as he told her to abandon him so she might make it back in time. This whole scene had me on the edge.  - LET’S ALSO TALK ABOUT HOW ELIDE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO REALIZED LORCAN WAS NOT UP ON THE WALL WITH THEM.  And she did not care, she literally took Chaol’s horse and went hunting for her tall brooding brute.  - LISTEN, THIS BIG BROODING BRUTE PUNK GAVE UP HIS IMMORTALITY TO BE WITH HER. LIKE. LORCAN.  - ALSO. LORD LORCAN LOCHAN.  - ELIDE IS A BADASS OKAY. From pretending to be Cairn's jilted lover to get intel to find Aelin - which was HER idea, btw to her facing down her uncle - her abuser for so many years and telling him she will never think of him again as she walks out leaving him there with her head held high, even though all she wanted to do was run.  - She is so smart. So so clever - SHE came up with the plan to take down Erawan. And holy shit, it worked.  - Her friendship with Yrene was so sweet. I love how those two bonded. - Elide walking down during Aelin’s coronation, but not wanting Lorcan to brace her foot. She wanted to take that walk down the aisle with pride. I’m so proud of you girl. 

Chaol/Yrene: - YRENE IS MY FAVE. Like what an angel. SHE is also one of the biggest badasses in this series. TAKING DOWN ERAWAN THROUGH SHEER WILL AND TALENT ALONE. - All the healing she did - always endlessly healing and she did this while being PREGNANT. - Her always healing while Chaol was fighting kept me on edge because if one of them falls, both do. And this is the sole notion that kept Chaol fighting so hard. - Chaol and his father - what a complicated relationship. But Chaol kept his shit about him around his father. And as furious as Chaol was that his father kept all those letters from his mother from him... "Keep them, those will be the only things to keep you company" is more or less what he said before wheeling himself out of the room... and Anielle. - Chaol's first thoughts as he went down during the final battle was Yrene. And the joy he felt when he saw she was there after waking up from his unconsciousness, alive with him after taking down Erawan. The pure pride he has for her. UGH YOU TWO STOP IT. - Yrene's beyond brilliant idea to build a Torre Cesme on the main continent, so that she may still teach others how to heal. And she’s going to be asking some of the Old Fae from whom a lot of the healers are descended from.  - Yrene has such a gentle soul - I love how she's thought of ways to help Elide's foot for days after she met Elide because she just wants to help her and fix her foot. - I was sad we didn't get as much Chaorene as I would have liked but there was so much going on.

Aedion/Lysandra/Evangeline: - First off... Aedion made me so angry this book. Like... how dare you blow up at Lysandra like that - humiliate her and SPEAK TO HER LIKE THAT. Do you think it was easy for her to go along with that plan? Knowing that her best friend was somewhere being tortured, not knowing if she'd ever even SEE her best friend ever again alive? His treatement of her during the first half just pissed me off. - And he didn't realize how much he hadn't meant it until Lysandra had shifted into Aelin's likeness as she tried to take down the ilken... THAT ALMOST KILLED HER. And she did that to rally HIS army to keep fighting. - LIKE YOU NEEDED HER TO HAVE A NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE TO REALIZE HOW SHITTY YOU'VE BEEN TREATING HER? GET OUTTA HERE. - So yes, I felt like him having his title stripped from him was justified. For that treatment of Lysandra alone. And I love how Lysandra told him straight up just that too. "I've had men degrade me but never as you have and it is unforgivable." - But I also like how the newly appointed general was like "Yeah thanks, so Aedion what are we gonna do?" - LYSANDRA YOU DESERVE ALL THE MEDALS IN THE UNIVERSE. THIS GIRL IS A FIGHTER, SHE IS A BADASS, CONSTANTLY SHIFTING INTO WHATEVER SHE CAN TO TAKE DOWN AS MANY MORATH SOLDIERS AS POSSIBLE. I FEEL LIKE SHE DID THE BULK OF IT IN ALL HER FORMS. - As angry as I was at Aedion... I was also super happy when they did sort of get back together. And I like how it was subtle. - ...Except for that hallway scene. If you know what I mean ;) - EVANGELINE! What a sweetiepie. This girl wore down one of the toughest Lords of Terrasen. I love how soft Darrow was with her. It was very, very sweet. And bless her heart, I love how she wanted to keep busy being Darrow's messenger, and I love how Darrow kind of sensed that she needed a purpose. Something to ground her while her friends fought. - Aedion, as much as you made me angry the first half of the book, I gotta hand it to him for holding off Morath for like 90% of the book before Aelin + co. got there. You go Aedion, you go.  - THE BLOOD OATH. HE FINALLY GOT HIS BLOOD OATH WITH AELIN. AND SHE DID IT BEFORE SHE WAS CROWNED. I cannot. 

Nestaq + the Khaganate: - DISAPPOINTED WE DIDN'T GET MORE NESTAQ. I WANTED MORE SARTAQ WORSHIPPING THE VERY GROUND NESRYN WALKED ON AS HE DID IN TOWER OF DAWN. - I feel they were just there for the updates in the war, what was happening sky-side... I just needed more from them. I know there was a lot going on but... a little bit of Nestaq cuteness would have been great in that big clusterfuck of a situation. - I will say, the cute thing at the end where Sartaq teases Nes about being Empress and she makes that face. Cute, Nesryn, cute. - I DID WANNA SEE MORE OF BORTE AND YERAN BECAUSE THOSE TWO CRACK ME UP. - I fell in love with Borte in TOD and I was even more in love with her in KOA. She is so fun, so snarky... I love how she got the opportunity to lead the cadre at the front lines during that final battle. - "You are all Fae?" Oh Borte.

Okay so I'm gonna end it here. I still have so many thoughts and feelings on this series. Still sad that it's over because I love these characters so much.

If you've read all the way through... I congratulate you. And I'm sorry that I like to talk :P But I appreciate it!

Feel free to message me if you want to continue talking about it BECAUSE I'M NOT DONE TALKING ABOUT IT.

[terrasensinstitute]

Unlikely Romances

Manon wonders about how she feels about the Bluebood witch, Petrah. I have NOT read KOA before this, so its spoiler free

Word Count: About 2,800

It wasn’t a secret that there were relationships between witches in the clans. It wasn’t that uncommon either, and no one really cared. The Blackbeak Matron had a lover in her own coven, and there were others that you would need both hands to count.

What was uncommon, however, was relationships - of any types - between different clans. The Ironteeth already didn’t like each other, not to mention that they barely met. It was better that way - before they ended up ripping each other apart, much like the War Games had proved they would in a heartbeat. They were rivals, and it would always be that way.

So what surprised Manon is that she found herself waiting by Petrah Blueblood’s bedside after those War Games, just hoping that she would wake up.

Maybe some part of Petrah really had been damaged when Iskra had given that order to kill, and Keelie had died on the rocks of the battlefield. The golden-eyed witch didn’t blame Petrah for her pain, because she had a small feeling that she would feel the same way if her own wyvern, Abraxos, suddenly died.

It was the day after she had killed that Crochan prisoner, and even after the time she spent with Abraxos, she couldn’t help but dwell on her words. Made you into monsters. Manon dwelled on it even more as she sat next to Petrah’s barely breathing form, knowing that if her grandmother found out, she would be punished even more than she already had.

Manon looked down at the Blueblood witch. Her sparkling blue eyes were closed, and her deep golden hair framed her pale face like sunlight. The witch had to force herself away in order to prevent herself from running her fingers across her cheeks. She looked frail, and in her face etched deep sadness. It hurt Manon, in some unknown part of her.

Manon stood from the stool, hearing footsteps grow louder on the floor of which Petrah laid. With a small glance back, Manon Blackbeak left the chambers through the window and made her way back to Abraxos. She needed to think without the witch in front of her.

Manon wasn’t sure whether to feel devastation, fear, fury, or nothing at all. She tried to feel the latter, but it was hard to with everything that had just been piled onto her. Her second for as long as she could remember was to be executed at sunrise tomorrow, and Petrah - Petrah - had defended her in that witch trial.

What would have happened if that tall, thin, beautiful witch with the hollow face hadn’t defended her? Would she be the one dying that next sunrise? Or would Asterin not be the one dying? Manon didn’t want to think of the idea that if Petrah had not interfered, her second would not be dying. But she knew deep down that it was her own damned decisions and mistakes that led to this.

She would give her Second a short end, because that was what Asterin deserved. When she knew that along with her own decisions, it was her Matron’s hatred of Asterin that had led to this, too.

But now, Manon had cornered that same witch who had defended her, golden eyes seeming to spark with emotions she did well to keep hidden. It was only this close that Manon finally realised how her freckles stood out against her skin, how her golden hair had been brushed to a beautiful color again - so unlike when she laid in her room in the uppermost chambers of the Omega.

Manon wondered if Petrah knew that she had sat by her bedside for however many hours, the exact amount forgotten in her immortal mind. The witch found that she hoped that Petrah didn’t know.

“Hello, Manon.” Her blue eyes still held that fierceness and unfinished business that she had spoken to Iskra with, and it made Manon realise with a jolt that, no, Petrah did not have her head in the clouds. That Petrah was an Ironteeth witch, and that she probably only put on that facade to trick her rivals and enemies. It was smart, and deadly. And, Manon realised with hatred at herself, hot. “What brings you here?”

Manon didn’t even think about how Petrah knew exactly what she was here for. “Why did you speak in my favor?”

A ghost of a smile graced Petrah’s lips before she spoke. “I think you know why, Manon.” She didn’t even have time to ask her to elaborate before Petrah walked off, still in her fighting leathers.

So Manon Blackbeak stood in that empty hall, looking at where Petrah had disappeared. She did not know how to answer the question hanging in her head, and Manon was unsure how she would even begin to, with all that laid upon her shoulders. With a sharp turn of her body, she stalked off towards her tower, brain churning with questions and ideas.

Made.

Made.

Made.

As she clumsily hung onto Abraxos’ leathery hide, those words repeated in her mind. Along with what her grandmother had finally admitted. She was a Blackbeak. But she was also the last living Crochan queen with the murder of her half-sister, Rhiannon.

A Queen. A living, breathing Crochan Queen. Well, maybe not living much longer seeing the state she was in, but.. It shook Manon to her core. To her husk of a heart, and Manon genuinely did not know how to feel about this, or much less how to process it.

Her bitch of a grandmother - Manon felt queasy at the thought of her being related to that monster - had killed her mother and father, and made her kill her half-sister. Manon may be a kin-slayer, but the Blackbeak Matron had done it willingly, and would not hesitate to do it again. Just like Manon would not hesitate to kill her if she saw the Matron again.

Her mind drifted off to what Petrah thought of the ordeal, and Manon could not find words why it did. She would probably be disgusted - like no doubt the rest of the Ironteeth were. But maybe Petrah and the other Bluebloods would understand that it was not Manon’s fault, and that she was still Ironteeth.

But did Manon even want to be an Ironteeth witch anymore? With what the Matron had done, along with Iskra Yellowlegs and the rest of her clan had done. With the shred of kindness Petrah had shown her - even if they were in rival clans.

No. She would always be an Ironteeth witch, and she would be a Crochan Queen. But Manon knew that she would have to pick which one to stay with. Because of she didn’t, that would ultimately be her downfall.

Dorian Havilliard and Manon Blackbeak had no feelings for each other besides sexual. Manon had learned that fairly quickly. He was handsome, and made her core burn, but Manon desired nothing beyond that. And Dorian saw her as a release - because human woman were too fragile.

Manon wondered what had made the King of Adarlan think that. What sad part in his life had made him decide not to go after a human woman, even if being with an immortal one would bring him the same sadness, too.

But it was that time with Dorian that she realised - had she ever felt real emotion for a man? No. That was not what witches did. What Ironteeth witches did - her father had proven that the Crochans did. But Asterin had proved that Ironteeth witches could, too.

Manon wondered if she ever felt any real emotion for another witch. She didn’t think she did. She didn’t see why she would feel that useless emotion. The white-haired beauty was unlike Asterin in so many different ways, and she had a feeling that she would be unlike her in their ability to love.

She hoped that she did, too. Because Manon would forever remember the words that Asterin had said. Joy so complete it was pain. The idea of being at such a mercy to something made Manon queasy. But things were changing. That much was obvious when she had to kill her half-sister. When her grandmother tried to kill her. When her grandmother had lied to her face about Asterin.

When she had saved Petrah. That decision alone had rocked her into the mess, and Manon had only now realised that. Maybe she was closer to being like Asterin’s flame than she ever thought.

What surprised Manon Blackbeak - she guess Manon Crochan, now - was not the fact that they had retrieved the third Wyrdkey. The parts she carried were heavy in her leathers, her nor Dorian wanting to trust what would happen when all three were together.

No, it was the fact that as she sat on the edge of a cliff, far off from the small army of Crochans she had managed to find, is that Petrah Blueblood joined her. Petrah did not bring a wyvern; she had brought one of the brooms that all witches alike had used before magic went out over ten years ago. But now they worked.

The white-haired witch supposed that Petrah couldn’t bring herself to have another wyvern, or that she wanted to come here as discreetly as possible. But the Matrons would have made her get another, so it was probably the latter assessment.

“You sure did destroy Morath.”

“You sure did state the obvious.”

Manon looked over at the golden-haired beauty, her blue eyes seeming darker in the night. “Why are you here, Petrah?”

It seemed to be that Petrah hesitated for a moment, and Manon was about to tell her to get the hell away when she finally spoke. “I come here to warn you. Your grandmother” - Manon almost cringed at the word - “has heard about what you are doing, and in all of your destroying of Morath, none of the Matrons have died. Neither has the Blackbeak Matron, who I saw you almost rip to shreds.”

Manon wasn’t as surprised as she was mad. She appreciated the warning - she did - but she was furious that she had not managed to kill the Matron bitch who, frankly, deserved to die in her eyes.

She guessed that it would be Asterin’s life to claim in the end. Her fiery cousin deserved it, for what the Matron had done to her.

“Thank you.” The words came out as Petrah was about mount her broom again, and Manon stood. She could feel Petrah looking at her - and her eyes perhaps lingering a bit too long on certain places.

“I would join you, except to do so would be a dishonor to my mother, and to the Blueblood Clan.” Manon watched as Petrah lifted those two fingers to her brow - respect of a Witch Queen - and then finally took off into the starry night.

The idea of it terrified her, but she also found herself longing to see more of Petrah. How she knew where she had went, Manon did not know, but she wished that Petrah would stay.

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius was not dead.

But Dorian Havillard was, and had left the lands of Adarlan to Terrasen as he forged the lock and put Erawan, Maeve, and the rest of the valg back where they belonged. To that realm, which Manon had no want to know whatsoever.

The fact made Manon sadder than she had ever been in a while, with the war having taken so many of her Thirteen and army of Crochans she had gathered up. Taking her second - but also her grandmother - and taking Dorian.

Dorian - he was someone who Manon was describe as a friend. Nothing more than that, but he should have been honored to even be considered a friend to Manon. No mortal man had ever had the pleasure of being called her friend.

No, he shouldn’t have had to feel honored, Manon thought, trying to hold back tears she had barely shed before, I should be honored. She had so much grief weighing on her shoulders - grief that she know cared about, now acknowledged. The war against Erawan, holding those keys, her friend and some of her Thirteen dying.. It was weight that Manon wished she did not carry. Wished she did not now have to uphold herself as a Crochan Queen - and possibly Queen of the Witches.

The beautiful white-haired witch sat on an unknown hill and cried. Manon did not care if anyone saw her, because she needed to let out all of that grief that had been slowly building up in her ever since she saved Petrah from being splattered on the Omega floor.

She could not tell how long she cried there until a hand laid upon her shoulder, and a comforting presence - smelling of myrrh and rosemary - seated itself besides her. Manon found herself not caring much if this presence was about to kill her, but as she lifted her head, she wiped her tears with the edge of her new cloak. It was not red, but a deep navy blue.

As her golden eyes met such familiar blue ones in the beginnings of dawn, she blinked. The sun shone on the much too familiar deep golden hair, turning some of the strands as light as her own moon-white hair.

“Petrah,” Manon began, unable to tear her eyes away from that calm and understanding face. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was soft and hoarse, and she wished that it was not.

“It seemed that you would need…” Petrah trailed off slightly, as if wishing for something but unable to say it. “It seemed that you needed someone to talk to. After everything that’s happened.”

The kindness in that statement made Manon’s heart swell with both sadness and longing. She wished for Dorian - who had listened to her, even when they were not taking an edge off with each other. Who she had confided in, even if it was just little pieces of information. She wished for someone who she could talk to again, and that she could return the favor.

Manon supposed that that was the reason why she finally spoke to Petrah. Tears flowed, and a comforting and light hand on her shoulder had slowly turned into an embrace as Petrah listened to her speak, the sun slowly rising higher as the time passed.

“I do not know how I am supposed to lead all of those witches by myself. How I am supposed to, with all of this grief still weighing on me. The curse has been lifted off of the Western Wastes-” a gasp came from Petrah at this “-yet, I do not know what will happen. Will the Ironteeth and Crochans live together? Or will I be forced to take a side again in another war for the Wastes?”

Manon had been ready to be the High Witch of the Wastes one day, but now she doubted her abilities to. Maybe in a clear state of mind, she would realise that it was just her emotions clouding her usual sharp judgement. Now, after crying for how many hours and being held by a witch she had long wondered about her feelings for, she felt better.

Manon waited in silence before Petrah finally spoke, that calm voice seeming to lift all of her worries off of her shoulders.

“I believe.. That you can do it. That the Ironteeth and the Crochans will live in peace together, because when you put your mind to something Manon, it happens. I have seen it happen for the past one hundred years, and I have no doubts that you will be a great Queen. That Ironteeth and Crochan blood in you will make you a fine Queen. You just have to believe in yourself, even if it seems impossible right now.” Petrah’s fingers moved some of Manon’s hair away from her tear-painted face, and Manon couldn;t resist the small shiver that wracked through her body. “If you want, I will join you. In whatever way you wish for me to. Because I believe that the world needs to change, and you have the power to do that. What use will it be if we are constantly fighting over who had the rightful claim of the Wastes?”

Manon smiled softly at the witch who she was being held by, and she laid a hand on her face. “I would love for you to join me, Petrah. I admit.. My feelings for you have been complicated. But I don’t think I could do with without some help from a witch who always has had her head in the clouds.”

And, as a grin lit the Bluebloods face, Manon watched as she leaned closer until their lips touched together.

Instead of that despair that had been clouding her, she felt excited for the future. Especially if Petrah Blueblood was joining her.

[weewooweewrrr]

Unlikely Romances

Hey everyone! This is another fanfiction - but this time between Manon Blackbeak and Petrah Blueblood. It goes from the time period of Heir of Fire, to the end of Kingdom of Ash (I have NOT read KOA before making this.) Anyways, enjoy!

Word count: About 2,800

It wasn’t a secret that there were relationships between witches in the clans. It wasn’t that uncommon either, and no one really cared. The Blackbeak Matron had a lover in her own coven, and there were others that you would need both hands to count.

What was uncommon, however, was relationships - of any types - between different clans. The Ironteeth already didn’t like each other, not to mention that they barely met. It was better that way - before they ended up ripping each other apart, much like the War Games had proved they would in a heartbeat. They were rivals, and it would always be that way.

So what surprised Manon is that she found herself waiting by Petrah Blueblood’s bedside after those War Games, just hoping that she would wake up.

Maybe some part of Petrah really had been damaged when Iskra had given that order to kill, and Keelie had died on the rocks of the battlefield. The golden-eyed witch didn’t blame Petrah for her pain, because she had a small feeling that she would feel the same way if her own wyvern, Abraxos, suddenly died.

It was the day after she had killed that Crochan prisoner, and even after the time she spent with Abraxos, she couldn’t help but dwell on her words. Made you into monsters. Manon dwelled on it even more as she sat next to Petrah’s barely breathing form, knowing that if her grandmother found out, she would be punished even more than she already had.

Manon looked down at the Blueblood witch. Her sparkling blue eyes were closed, and her deep golden hair framed her pale face like sunlight. The witch had to force herself away in order to prevent herself from running her fingers across her cheeks. She looked frail, and in her face etched deep sadness. It hurt Manon, in some unknown part of her.

Manon stood from the stool, hearing footsteps grow louder on the floor of which Petrah laid. With a small glance back, Manon Blackbeak left the chambers through the window and made her way back to Abraxos. She needed to think without the witch in front of her.

Manon wasn’t sure whether to feel devastation, fear, fury, or nothing at all. She tried to feel the latter, but it was hard to with everything that had just been piled onto her. Her second for as long as she could remember was to be executed at sunrise tomorrow, and Petrah - Petrah - had defended her in that witch trial.

What would have happened if that tall, thin, beautiful witch with the hollow face hadn’t defended her? Would she be the one dying that next sunrise? Or would Asterin not be the one dying? Manon didn’t want to think of the idea that if Petrah had not interfered, her second would not be dying. But she knew deep down that it was her own damned decisions and mistakes that led to this.

She would give her Second a short end, because that was what Asterin deserved. When she knew that along with her own decisions, it was her Matron’s hatred of Asterin that had led to this, too.

But now, Manon had cornered that same witch who had defended her, golden eyes seeming to spark with emotions she did well to keep hidden. It was only this close that Manon finally realised how her freckles stood out against her skin, how her golden hair had been brushed to a beautiful color again - so unlike when she laid in her room in the uppermost chambers of the Omega.

Manon wondered if Petrah knew that she had sat by her bedside for however many hours, the exact amount forgotten in her immortal mind. The witch found that she hoped that Petrah didn’t know.

“Hello, Manon.” Her blue eyes still held that fierceness and unfinished business that she had spoken to Iskra with, and it made Manon realise with a jolt that, no, Petrah did not have her head in the clouds. That Petrah was an Ironteeth witch, and that she probably only put on that facade to trick her rivals and enemies. It was smart, and deadly. And, Manon realised with hatred at herself, hot. “What brings you here?”

Manon didn’t even think about how Petrah knew exactly what she was here for. “Why did you speak in my favor?”

A ghost of a smile graced Petrah’s lips before she spoke. “I think you know why, Manon.” She didn’t even have time to ask her to elaborate before Petrah walked off, still in her fighting leathers.

So Manon Blackbeak stood in that empty hall, looking at where Petrah had disappeared. She did not know how to answer the question hanging in her head, and Manon was unsure how she would even begin to, with all that laid upon her shoulders. With a sharp turn of her body, she stalked off towards her tower, brain churning with questions and ideas.

Made.

Made.

Made.

As she clumsily hung onto Abraxos’ leathery hide, those words repeated in her mind. Along with what her grandmother had finally admitted. She was a Blackbeak. But she was also the last living Crochan queen with the murder of her half-sister, Rhiannon.

A Queen. A living, breathing Crochan Queen. Well, maybe not living much longer seeing the state she was in, but.. It shook Manon to her core. To her husk of a heart, and Manon genuinely did not know how to feel about this, or much less how to process it.

Her bitch of a grandmother - Manon felt queasy at the thought of her being related to that monster - had killed her mother and father, and made her kill her half-sister. Manon may be a kin-slayer, but the Blackbeak Matron had done it willingly, and would not hesitate to do it again. Just like Manon would not hesitate to kill her if she saw the Matron again.

Her mind drifted off to what Petrah thought of the ordeal, and Manon could not find words why it did. She would probably be disgusted - like no doubt the rest of the Ironteeth were. But maybe Petrah and the other Bluebloods would understand that it was not Manon’s fault, and that she was still Ironteeth.

But did Manon even want to be an Ironteeth witch anymore? With what the Matron had done, along with Iskra Yellowlegs and the rest of her clan had done. With the shred of kindness Petrah had shown her - even if they were in rival clans.

No. She would always be an Ironteeth witch, and she would be a Crochan Queen. But Manon knew that she would have to pick which one to stay with. Because of she didn’t, that would ultimately be her downfall.

Dorian Havilliard and Manon Blackbeak had no feelings for each other besides sexual. Manon had learned that fairly quickly. He was handsome, and made her core burn, but Manon desired nothing beyond that. And Dorian saw her as a release - because human woman were too fragile.

Manon wondered what had made the King of Adarlan think that. What sad part in his life had made him decide not to go after a human woman, even if being with an immortal one would bring him the same sadness, too.

But it was that time with Dorian that she realised - had she ever felt real emotion for a man? No. That was not what witches did. What Ironteeth witches did - her father had proven that the Crochans did. But Asterin had proved that Ironteeth witches could, too.

Manon wondered if she ever felt any real emotion for another witch. She didn’t think she did. She didn’t see why she would feel that useless emotion. The white-haired beauty was unlike Asterin in so many different ways, and she had a feeling that she would be unlike her in their ability to love.

She hoped that she did, too. Because Manon would forever remember the words that Asterin had said. Joy so complete it was pain. The idea of being at such a mercy to something made Manon queasy. But things were changing. That much was obvious when she had to kill her half-sister. When her grandmother tried to kill her. When her grandmother had lied to her face about Asterin.

When she had saved Petrah. That decision alone had rocked her into the mess, and Manon had only now realised that. Maybe she was closer to being like Asterin’s flame than she ever thought.

What surprised Manon Blackbeak - she guess Manon Crochan, now - was not the fact that they had retrieved the third Wyrdkey. The parts she carried were heavy in her leathers, her nor Dorian wanting to trust what would happen when all three were together.

No, it was the fact that as she sat on the edge of a cliff, far off from the small army of Crochans she had managed to find, is that Petrah Blueblood joined her. Petrah did not bring a wyvern; she had brought one of the brooms that all witches alike had used before magic went out over ten years ago. But now they worked.

The white-haired witch supposed that Petrah couldn’t bring herself to have another wyvern, or that she wanted to come here as discreetly as possible. But the Matrons would have made her get another, so it was probably the latter assessment.

“You sure did destroy Morath.”

“You sure did state the obvious.”

Manon looked over at the golden-haired beauty, her blue eyes seeming darker in the night. “Why are you here, Petrah?”

It seemed to be that Petrah hesitated for a moment, and Manon was about to tell her to get the hell away when she finally spoke. “I come here to warn you. Your grandmother” - Manon almost cringed at the word - “has heard about what you are doing, and in all of your destroying of Morath, none of the Matrons have died. Neither has the Blackbeak Matron, who I saw you almost rip to shreds.”

Manon wasn’t as surprised as she was mad. She appreciated the warning - she did - but she was furious that she had not managed to kill the Matron bitch who, frankly, deserved to die in her eyes.

She guessed that it would be Asterin’s life to claim in the end. Her fiery cousin deserved it, for what the Matron had done to her.

“Thank you.” The words came out as Petrah was about mount her broom again, and Manon stood. She could feel Petrah looking at her - and her eyes perhaps lingering a bit too long on certain places.

“I would join you, except to do so would be a dishonor to my mother, and to the Blueblood Clan.” Manon watched as Petrah lifted those two fingers to her brow - respect of a Witch Queen - and then finally took off into the starry night.

The idea of it terrified her, but she also found herself longing to see more of Petrah. How she knew where she had went, Manon did not know, but she wished that Petrah would stay.

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius was not dead.

But Dorian Havillard was, and had left the lands of Adarlan to Terrasen as he forged the lock and put Erawan, Maeve, and the rest of the valg back where they belonged. To that realm, which Manon had no want to know whatsoever.

The fact made Manon sadder than she had ever been in a while, with the war having taken so many of her Thirteen and army of Crochans she had gathered up. Taking her second - but also her grandmother - and taking Dorian.

Dorian - he was someone who Manon was describe as a friend. Nothing more than that, but he should have been honored to even be considered a friend to Manon. No mortal man had ever had the pleasure of being called her friend.

No, he shouldn’t have had to feel honored, Manon thought, trying to hold back tears she had barely shed before, I should be honored. She had so much grief weighing on her shoulders - grief that she know cared about, now acknowledged. The war against Erawan, holding those keys, her friend and some of her Thirteen dying.. It was weight that Manon wished she did not carry. Wished she did not now have to uphold herself as a Crochan Queen - and possibly Queen of the Witches.

The beautiful white-haired witch sat on an unknown hill and cried. Manon did not care if anyone saw her, because she needed to let out all of that grief that had been slowly building up in her ever since she saved Petrah from being splattered on the Omega floor.

She could not tell how long she cried there until a hand laid upon her shoulder, and a comforting presence - smelling of myrrh and rosemary - seated itself besides her. Manon found herself not caring much if this presence was about to kill her, but as she lifted her head, she wiped her tears with the edge of her new cloak. It was not red, but a deep navy blue.

As her golden eyes met such familiar blue ones in the beginnings of dawn, she blinked. The sun shone on the much too familiar deep golden hair, turning some of the strands as light as her own moon-white hair.

“Petrah,” Manon began, unable to tear her eyes away from that calm and understanding face. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was soft and hoarse, and she wished that it was not.

“It seemed that you would need…” Petrah trailed off slightly, as if wishing for something but unable to say it. “It seemed that you needed someone to talk to. After everything that’s happened.”

The kindness in that statement made Manon’s heart swell with both sadness and longing. She wished for Dorian - who had listened to her, even when they were not taking an edge off with each other. Who she had confided in, even if it was just little pieces of information. She wished for someone who she could talk to again, and that she could return the favor.

Manon supposed that that was the reason why she finally spoke to Petrah. Tears flowed, and a comforting and light hand on her shoulder had slowly turned into an embrace as Petrah listened to her speak, the sun slowly rising higher as the time passed.

“I do not know how I am supposed to lead all of those witches by myself. How I am supposed to, with all of this grief still weighing on me. The curse has been lifted off of the Western Wastes-” a gasp came from Petrah at this “-yet, I do not know what will happen. Will the Ironteeth and Crochans live together? Or will I be forced to take a side again in another war for the Wastes?”

Manon had been ready to be the High Witch of the Wastes one day, but now she doubted her abilities to. Maybe in a clear state of mind, she would realise that it was just her emotions clouding her usual sharp judgement. Now, after crying for how many hours and being held by a witch she had long wondered about her feelings for, she felt better.

Manon waited in silence before Petrah finally spoke, that calm voice seeming to lift all of her worries off of her shoulders.

“I believe.. That you can do it. That the Ironteeth and the Crochans will live in peace together, because when you put your mind to something Manon, it happens. I have seen it happen for the past one hundred years, and I have no doubts that you will be a great Queen. That Ironteeth and Crochan blood in you will make you a fine Queen. You just have to believe in yourself, even if it seems impossible right now.” Petrah’s fingers moved some of Manon’s hair away from her tear-painted face, and Manon couldn;t resist the small shiver that wracked through her body. “If you want, I will join you. In whatever way you wish for me to. Because I believe that the world needs to change, and you have the power to do that. What use will it be if we are constantly fighting over who had the rightful claim of the Wastes?”

Manon smiled softly at the witch who she was being held by, and she laid a hand on her face. “I would love for you to join me, Petrah. I admit.. My feelings for you have been complicated. But I don’t think I could do with without some help from a witch who always has had her head in the clouds.”

And, as a grin lit the Bluebloods face, Manon watched as she leaned closer until their lips touched together.

Instead of that despair that had been clouding her, she felt excited for the future. Especially if Petrah Blueblood was joining her.

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 11 - 12

Luckily we’re not in the boring Elide/Lorcan subplot in this chapter, but back to Manon!

Everything had gone to shit. Everything.

Kinda like this series, huh?

In the end, she’d barely participated in Rifthold’s destruction, leaving it to the others. But she’d again donned her crowned helm, then ordered Abraxos to sail to the highest spire of the stone castle and roar his victory—and command. Even at the distant white walls of the city, ripping apart the guards and fleeing folk, the wyverns had paused at his order to stand down. Not one coven disobeyed.

Yesss I freakin’ love Manon so much. Can this book just be about her and Abraxos conquering evil kingdoms for their own?

Iskra had landed on the only space left: a lower bit of roofing below Manon. The positioning had been intentional. Iskra’s brown hair had come untangled from her tight braid, and her haughty face was splattered with human blood as she’d snarled at Manon, “This was my victory.”

I really like how Manon plans it all out, even down to the positioning so she’s looming over the other witches, reminding them of who is in charge. I propose a Manon fanclub, she deserves one.

Iskra trembled with rage. Not from the words. The wind had shifted, blowing toward Iskra. Blowing Manon’s scent at her. “Who?” Iskra seethed. “Who of mine did you butcher?”

Manon lies and said that the first witch had attacked Manon while she had been supposedly hunting Dorian, and also says that the other witches were killed by Rowan. Isarka all but announces that Manon is a liar and that she killed those witches, and now Manon has to deal with the consequences and face her grandmother.

Manon said to her Second and Third, “This will be messy.” Sorrel said quietly, “We’ll deal with it.” Manon clenched the helmet a bit harder. “If it goes poorly, you are to take the Thirteen and leave.”

Again, another character who is a much better leader than Aelin, looking out for her group’s safety. And Manon is a blood thirsty murdering witch.

So Manon goes in and all the witches have gathered.

“The Crone’s Sickle hangs above us,” Cresseida intoned. “Let it be the Mother’s blade of justice.” This was not a meeting. This was a trial. Iskra began smiling.

Oh my god, characters facing consequences for their decisions?? It isn’t just swept under the rug or dismissed?? In MY SJM novel??

“And, as the sentinel was a part of the Yellowlegs’ heir’s own coven, it is also a crime against Iskra.” Her grandmother’s face was tight with rage—not for what Manon had done, but for getting caught. “Through either your own neglect or ill-planning, the lives of four other coven members were ended. Their blood, too, stains your hands.” Her grandmother’s iron teeth shone in the candlelight. “Do you deny these charges?” Manon kept her back straight, looked each of them in the eye. “I do not deny that I killed Iskra’s sentinel when she tried to claim my rightful prize. I do not deny that the other four were slaughtered by the Fae Prince. But I do deny any wrongdoing on my part.”

I like how it balances each character’s viewpoint. To the witches, Manon has murdered five of her own kind, but to the reader, Manon did it to save a main character and hero, so you’re sympathetic towards Manon but the witches disowning her doesn’t seem like a contrivance.

Petrah, who Manon saved in one of the previous two books, asks Manon if she considers her an enemy or ally, and Manon says she sees her as a rival. Then Petrah asks Manon why she rescued her then while another wyvern killed hers.

Manon lifted her chin. “Because Keelie fought for you as she died. I would not allow her death to be wasted. I could offer a fellow warrior nothing less.” At the sound of her dead wyvern’s name, pain flickered across Petrah’s face. “You remember her name?”

Awww.... this is so heartwarming. It shows Manon isn’t entirely heartless and has a kind side, and it’s really good pay off for Manon’s earlier actions helping her now. Manon really is the best part of these books.

Because of Petrah speaking for Manon, her grandmother decides it’s not worth losing Manon just to fulfill the blood that has been lost.

“The blood shed must be equal,” her grandmother intoned. Her attention flicked over Manon’s shoulder. “So you, Granddaughter, will not die for this. But one of your Thirteen will.”

Oof, that’s super cold. Her grandmother addressing her so personally adds to the impact of the blow. Seriously SJM, you struck gold with the witches, why couldn’t the books be about them?

At this point Manon’s grandmother announces that Asterin will die the next day to pay the blood debt, and the chapter ends. I turned the page after that desperate for more, only to see that Chapter 12 is Aelin’s POV. Isn’t that just...great.

Without Evangeline slowing them down, Aelin, Aedion, and Lysandra traveled with little rest as they hauled ass for the coast.

“hauled ass” are you fucking kidding me... this is a fantasy novel and you’re gonna describe the characters as hauling ass....

Aelin tried not to dwell on it too much—on the threadbare estates, the abandoned farms, the gaunt-faced people whenever they ventured into town, cloaked and disguised, for desperately needed supplies. Though she had faced darkness and emerged full of light, a voice whispered in her head, You did this, you did this, you did this. That voice often sounded like Weylan Darrow’s icy tones.

Yeah, because it’s totally Darrow’s fault that you’re a spoiled snot who did nothing to help your kingdom for years.

The town of Ilium was as ancient as Terrasen itself, and would likely have already been forgotten by traders and history were it not for the crumbling temple at the northeastern edge of the city, drawing enough pilgrims to keep it thriving.

So they arrive at Ilium and Aelin wastes no time missing her fae prince’s dick. I understand she’s worried and all for his safety, but I know as soon as he’s back they’re gonna fuck like animals because they can’t stand to leave each other for two seconds and I’m not looking forward to it.

Some soldiers of Lord of Meah,one of the Lords in Adarlan, are camped in the port. Apparently after Dorian left after the witches attacked, all the Lords are starting to try to take over bits and pieces of land. Naturally this should upset Aelin, since Dorian is her friend and here are the people supposedly on his side claiming territory for themselves, right?

Aedion kept quiet as they rounded a corner, aiming for the small seaside inn Lysandra had also scouted that morning. On the other side of the city from the temple. The temple the soldiers had the nerve to use as their barracks. “Is this about sending a message to Adarlan, or to Darrow?” Aedion asked at last.

FUCKING FUCK OFF WITH THIS DARROW HATE I S2G!!!! Aedion has his nose buried so far up Aelin’s ass he can’t take even one tiny piece of criticism directed towards her!!! Darrow was right to not trust you assholes hoooooly shit

“It is about freeing my people, who have dealt with these Adarlanian pieces of shit for too long,” Aelin snapped, reining her mare in to a halt before the inn courtyard. Lysandra’s talons dug into her shoulder in silent agreement.

At least Aelin doesn’t agree. And whoa, Lysandra, are you trying to tear Aelin’s shoulder apart? Unless Aelin is wearing something over her shoulder to protect herself, those talons have gotta hurt!

Aedion mentions the Mycenians, and maybe it is just my short attention span, but who are they...? Man, SJM just keeps adding new people and groups and I honestly cannot remember who any of them are.

“And [the Mycenians] disbanded and vanished soon after that, never to be seen again,” Aedion countered. “What’s your point? You think liberating Ilium will summon them again? They’re long gone, Aelin, their sea dragons with them.”

OH SHIT SEA DRAGONS??? Sign me up. Gimmie bad ass warriors on ships commanding their sea dragon companions. Hell yeah.

[Aedion] double-checked that Rowan’s knife was securely buckled at his side before he said to Aelin and Lysandra, still by the window, “I know you two are of the opinion that we males are here to provide you with a pretty view and meals, but I am a general of Terrasen.

Aedion, I used to like you, but now SJM has ruined you.

“That temple is my birthright,” Aelin said. “I cannot allow that insult to go unchecked.” She rolled her shoulders. Revealing her plans, explaining herself … It would take some getting used to. But she’d promised she’d try to be more … open about her plotting. And for this matter, at least, she could be.

Yeah, we’ll see how long she sticks to that. Also, love how she’s implying she’s only mad they took the temple because it is hers. As in, if they stole one of Dorian’s temples she wouldn’t care.

So Aedion mentions this kingsflame flower that used to bloom in the kingdom. Darrow is in possession of the last one. I have the feeling this is leading up to a scene where the kingsflame flower will bloom when Aelin takes back her crown. I love symbolic shit like that, but I know SJM is gonna make it allll about what a great ruler Aelin is and we’ll have 300 pages of everyone gushing about her.

Aelin and the rest leave to eat, and the chapter ends.