#the book of manon

[esotericas-sims]

Manon Yvaine de Falstaff, 1789.

"It is the unique gift of the orphan: freedom from the burden of a family legacy. It is also their unique misery. The maintenance of a legacy is a laborious task. The creation of one has been known to drive men mad."

– M.F.

Chapter One

My name is Manon Yvaine de Falstaff. You have not heard of me.

By the time this book is published, I am either dead or as-good-as. This is by design. It is only with the knowledge that I will not live to suffer the consequences of my actions, that I can report them truly and honestly here.

There is a general narrative convention that a story starts at the beginning. I see no reason to break this pattern.

My story begins in France, 1785. I was born in blood and tears and disappointment. My parents were Conrad and Mathilde de Falstaff, Baron and Baronne of ----- (a vanity title, gifted to them by the King as reward for my father's friendship. We had no money, and no land.) My parents despised one another; Conrad, for his wife's inability to bear sons, and Mathilde, for her husband's inability to remain faithful. It was a marriage of equals, in terms of hatred.

They were divorced not long after I was born - Failure to produce a male heir - Four girls was four too many, and Ophelie and I were twins. It was more than my father could tolerate.

I was born last. I took pride, for some years, in being the straw that broke the camel's back. I learned in later years that the divorce was my mother's idea, not my father's. I can not blame her for wanting an escape, though my sisters resented her for abandoning us to him.

Neither of them, as far as I know, ever took credit for giving me my name. There is a significance to that, I think. A name is an important thing, and mine purports to be handed down from God himself.

Manon... a nickname, I was born Marie, though I have never once been called by that. It is a name I have always felt to be fateful, an act of God, determining my path. My mother could not have known about Mary, who I would meet many years after I left France, but perhaps the all-seeing eyes of the heavens observed our crossing-of-paths. Who's to say?

Yvaine... "North Star." The kinder of my elder sisters, Mathilde Junior - though we all called her Tilly - claimed it was my mother's choice, a reference to my odd appearance - shockingly white hair, and icy skin. The other, Emelie, insisted my father had meant to call me Yvonne, for my resemblance to our hideous aunt.

All these matters of fate and God and names were far from my mind as I grew, however. I was concerned almost entirely with my father, and my relentless pursuit of his love.

It was a game we played, the battle for affection. He praised me when I was clever, but scorned me when I won an argument. He played dolls with me only when my toys were soldiers, politicians, or clergymen. I begged to attend his meetings, balls, and dinner parties. Of all his children, there was no denying I took after him the most. It is one of the greatest shames of my life. For those golden years, however, I chased after him with the undying devotion known only to children. It did not last long, though. Change was coming.

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[rainingriversofyou]

Dorian, Manon & Abraxos - TOG 🩶 Artist: andieburky

[the-evil-clergyman]

Illustration from Manon Lescaut by Alastair (1928)

[oblivionsdream]

A new puzzle collaboration with Reverie Puzzles this time featuring the characters from Throne of Glass. It was such a delight to work with them again and I’m super proud of how this turned out. I’m definitely biased but my favorite part is probably Abraxos because he is just the best boy. 😌

[i-only-see-daylight]

Manon: Elide, your husband, Lorcan, is a loser, Aelin and I both agree.

Elide: You do?

Aelin: No, uh-uh, I never called him a loser!

Manon: Sorry, I’m the one who called him a loser. Manon: Aelin called him a clown.

[jennastokesart]

🩸Manorian Burdened ⛓️

These are 2 beautifully written characters who I’ve admired since I first read them. Though they have very different personalities, they have the same journey in the books. They are 2 people who learn to rise above the toxic environment they were groomed in and find themselves in their found family, where they learn to feel love. I really wish we got more on them, their stories felt a door left open.

Thank you to @shadowhandss60 for commissioning me to draw Manorian🖤 this was such a beautiful concept that represents them as individuals in a poetic lense.

When I was drawing these pieces, I wanted to really drive home their own traumas and how they respond to it. Dorian is reflecting in anger and disgust, hating his loss of autonomy and the pain he inflicted. Manon is mourning, regretting all that’s she has done and lost, her sisterhood being the cost.

I hope you all enjoy my first Throne of Glass pieces. It’s quite an emotional opener 😆

[shadowhandss60]

Manon seeing Dorian while Rifthold was under attack:

“She had forgotten how much taller he was.”

“His sensuous mouth”

“He towered over her.”

“Manon studied his long legs, more muscled than last time she’d seen him.”

“He had packed on more muscle.”

“The golden tan of his skin.”

“Shot her a glare over his broad shoulder.”

[dudakka]

My entry for @ssnp_art ‘ DTIYS on Instagram 💙👑

‘“You will not find them in this sky or any other.”

His heart strained as he understood. As the loss of those twelve fierce, brilliant lives carved another hole within him. One he would not forget, one he would honor. Silently, he crossed the balcony. Manon did not back away as he slid his arms around her.

“I am sorry,” he said into her hair.

Tentatively, slowly, her hands drifted across his back. Then settled, embracing him.

“I miss them,” she whispered, shuddering.

Dorian only held her tighter, and let Manon lean on him for as long as she needed, Abraxos staring toward that blasted bit of earth on the plain, toward the mate who would never return, while the city below celebrated.’

I loved playing around with the brushes and textures. This moment in KOA broke my heart so I hope I did it justice with this fanart!

[pergaminaa]

Friendly reminder that Dorian Havilliard pushed aside a valg prince possessing him just so that he can have a few seconds to rizz up the hot witch that showed up

[queen-aelin-of-terrasen]

Manon: Why should I lend my army to Terrasen?

Aelin, who is rusty on her royal training: Um, you really like me??

Manon:

Manon, who also does not have much royal training: yeah why the fuck not

[malulls]

“And who, exactly, are you?”

Dorian gave the witch one of those charming smiles and sketched a bow.

“Dorian Havilliard, at your service.”

“The king,” one of the Crochans murmured from near the wyverns.

Dorian winked. “That I am, too.”

That was so HOT of him

[esotericas-sims]

Chapter Two

“How could Papa have already found a new wife?” Tilly said, tears brimming at the edges of her eyes. We sat the four of us bunched at one end of a pew, limbs tangled together in a mess of girlish affection. The cathedral was ghostly, empty save for ourselves, our father, the priest, and our future stepmother - a lovely woman, Ioanna Basrid. An Italian - a nebulous, foreign thing to sheltered creatures like ourselves, accustomed then only to the walls of our own home, and the gardens beyond. It was, I would later learn, a very rushed wedding. No surprises as to why. My father was predictable in his pleasures.

“She doesn’t even look like Maman,” Ophelie added. She sat slumped against Tilly’s side, head on her thin shoulder. Tilly was distraught, though I recall her tears more being for the drama of it, than out of actual grief. We were all too young then to truly understand our parents’ divorce, and what it would mean for our lives. 

“I think Papa scared her away,” Tilly said, wrapping an arm around Ophelie. I sat at the edge of the group, largely distant from the pile of tears and elbows. Ophelie, my twin, claimed memories of our mother, I assume out of some desire to take after perfect golden Tilly, but I knew she didn’t remember her any more than I did. I was the only one who professed to like Ioanna. She was an enigmatic, foreign woman - smelling of unusual spices, and wafting around in strange fabrics. I’d heard whispers that her family were Ottomans once - a word I didn’t know, but which felt good on the tongue. I concluded she had to be some sort of royalty. Even dressed in the French fashion, pastels awkward on her tanned skin, Ioanna shone.

I don’t recall the proceeding of the ceremony itself - a minor thing, compared to the whines of my sisters. I do remember that my father was smiling, and my new stepmother was not.

“Maybe Papa killed Maman,” Emelie added. My mother had been beautiful, it was certain; I liked to look up at her portrait on rainy days, when the view out the window was dull, but she was nothing to rival Ioanna. Tilly burst out into tearful, startled laughter. 

“Don’t say that, Em!” 

“That’s awful,” Ophelie added, though the three of them had crumbled from solemn tears into little bursts of laughter.

Emelie settled smugly back in her seat on the pew, looking mightily satisfied with her joke. “Maybe she’ll be nicer than Maman was.” Vague, doubtful murmurs emerged from Ophelie and Tilly. The priest cast a scathing glance towards us, but didn't stop the ceremony to silence our chatter.

The rest of the day fades into the blur of memory, but I will never forget the fearful set to my new stepmother’s face as the priest slid the ring onto her finger.

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[rainingriversofyou]

Throne Of Glass characters & couples 🤍 Artist: inkfaeart

[abraxosissilly]

I absolutely adore how the entire Throne of Glass cast is just violently bisexual

[throughstarlitfields]

Wanted to post this here for all the Manorian love ❤️ Art is by spearthymint, commissioned by me. You can find us both on Instagram, our tags are watermarked 🫶🏼 Please don’t repost!

[andieburky]

Manorian & Abraxos