#sneak manorian and their witchling attack

[pergaminaa]

Manon would have doubts about being a good mother to her little witchling. It’s a feeling that never goes away and she terrified of acting like her grandmother because it’s literally the only thing she knows.

She’s aware that what her grandmother did was no way to be around a child. This, and the fact that Manon is a good person with a lot of repressed love, was why she is nothing like her grandmother. But she doesn’t see it that way. She is haunted by her past and her own nightmarish childhood. She hangs on every mistake, wonders if she could have said something better— wonders if her witchling is better off being around Dorian more than her (because she believes that she will do some irrecoverable damage to her, and the thought literally keeps her up at night)

Dorian is there to always assure her that she’s nothing like her grandmother. He hates that after so long without her, she still has her clutches around Manon, ensuring that her voice is the only thing leading Manon.

He knows that she isn’t like her at all. And he will never tire of reminding her of it every single day.

This has become easier with their witchling getting older. Now, he can easily just point at the toddler, who would be in various positions on their bed at night ‘because I get bad dreams in my bed and only get good dreams in your bed’ as she would argue.

He notices how the witchling is casual about it. She comes into their room, climbs up their bed, plops down next to her mom while holding on to something so that she doesn’t get carried to her room (toddler logic). To Dorian, this display alone is enough.

He tells Manon that if she was anything like she thinks she is, their witchling wouldn’t be feeling this safe around her. She is always around her mother, following her around and preferring to stay with her as opposed to playing with the other children. If their witchling is feeling unsafe, she wouldn’t be doing any of that.

“Look at her,” He points at the sleeping child in their bed once again. Her head is resting on Manon’s stomach, while she almost hogged her mother all to herself.

“You’re doing great with her, witchling,” He winks. Adding a little playfulness while being serious.

The Blackbeak Matron killed her own daughter and almost killed her granddaughter. Manon is nothing like her, and he will never tire of reminding her of that.

Because even the formidable Queen of the Witches needs a gentle reminder from time to time.

[wingsofanillyrian]

Vacation in Hell (Manorian)

@sasshole-for-rent asked: “Go to hell.” “Already been but thanks for the invite.” for Manorian or Malide!

Here you are, my lovely!

Send me a prompt!

The King of Adarlan awoke in his chambers to the warm light of dawn filtering in from the window. Keeping his eyes shut against the brightness, he stretched his arms over his head like a cat and rolled onto his back.

“Morning, Manon,” he mumbled groggily, reaching a hand over to her side of the bed. His brow furrowed when his fingers brushed against parchment. Cracking open an eye, he saw it was a note, folded neatly in half on his queen’s pillow. He heaved himself to a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to read it.

Meeting Asterin in the plains. Be back sometime tomorrow.

-M

Dorian couldn’t say he was surprised; this wasn’t the first time she had left on such short notice. It was, however, the first time she had left without waking him to say goodbye. Sighing, he leaned back against the headboard and concluded she must have left before first light, as her side of the bed was cold.

He startled when a huge, dark shadow passed by the window that overlooked the palace gardens.

A smile curled the edges of his lips. “Abraxos,” he noted, and rose from the bed with a groan. It would take Manon at least ten minutes to get the feisty wyvern to calm enough to saddle him, which gave Dorian enough time to catch her before they rose into the sky.

Swiftly locating his shirt and pants (discarded the night before during their tumble in the sheets), he pulled them on. He stepped into his boots, plucking a thick winter cloak off the rack and slinging it around his shoulders as he strode into the hall.

**********

Dorian entered the courtyard as Manon was readying to mount. Her black cloak snapped in the harsh winter wind as she double checked that her supplies were properly strapped down.

Her back was to him and the wind concealed the sounds of his approach, but Abraxos regarded him with curiosity. Raising a finger to his lips, Dorian willed him not to alert Manon. The wyvern’s eyes sparkled, as if he understood Dorian’s intent to startle his rider.

Sneaking up behind her, he put his hands on her waist. “Going somewhere, witchling?” She turned to face him with a snarl.

“Gods, Dorian!” She exclaimed, retracting the sharp iron teeth that had sprung out at the threat of attack. “Warn me next time.” His chest rumbled with laughter as she stepped out of his grasp.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He questioned, tucking his hands in his pockets. Manon only stared at him, quirking a brow.

“My goodbye kiss!” He said, angling his cheek in her direction. Manon rolled her eyes playfully, shaking her head.

“Oh, go to hell,” she teased, throwing her platinum hair over her shoulder and stalking away.

Dorian called after her, “Already been but thanks for the invite!” That caused her to stop in her tracks, turning back to him with a quizzical look. Picking at his nails, he continued, “The weather is quite nice there this time of year. Pretty hot, but not too humid. Didn’t even have to die to get there.” Dorian’s sapphire eyes lit up with amusement.

Manon barked a laugh. “Is that so?” She crossed her arms over her chest, cocking her head to the side.

“Oh, yes. Hell is such a beautiful little costal town. I have a summer home there. Plenty of open space and green grass for Abraxos, a salty breeze flowing in from the ocean…” He trailed off, waving a hand dismissively. “You should see it sometime.” Apparently, it was exactly what the witch had wanted to hear. Manon’s golden eyes danced with mischief as she regarded her king.

“I think that we should take a vacation,” Manon said, swinging her hips as she glided back to Dorian. “Winters are too damn cold in Adarlan.” She slipped her fingers under his tunic, ghosting her nails down his back. Manon looked up at him with her lust glazed eyes, biting her lip. Dorian felt his knees tremble.

“Um- I can’t- I mean-“ He stumbled over his words as Manon slid a hand down his chest, resting it right above his belt. She grazed her iron nails across his stomach, pulling a sharp gasp from Dorian’s lips.

“I have a kingdom to run,” he rasped, swallowing thickly. Manon’s hand travelled farther down to rub his growing length through his pants, teasing. Dorian’s eyes shuttered as her hot breath tickled his jaw.

Bringing her lips to his ear, she whispered, “I think Chaol could handle being in charge for a few weeks, don’t you?” Dorian let out a groan, resting a hand on her hip. Lightly, she nipped at his ear and allowed him to grind against her hand. When his hands travelled down to grip her ass, she stepped back, a wicked grin on her face.

Clearing his throat, Dorian adjusted his thick woolen overcoat to hide his arousal. “I suppose he could.” Manon smiled, knowing full well that she had won this round of their little game.

“Be ready to leave when I get back tomorrow,” She commanded, turning to saunter back to Abraxos. The wind whipped her cloak to the side and gave him the opportunity to let his eyes linger on her perfect backside. His eyebrows rose in appreciation.

Manon let out an involuntary yelp as Dorian used a phantom hand to give her bottom a firm smack. She threw a surprised, but pleased, look over her shoulder.

“You just wait, princeling!”