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saylors-universe · 4 years ago

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All Hands on Deck, four

Rowaelin Cruise Vacation AU

Masterlist here

word count: 3275

[This is an interactive story! I will include Authorʻs Notes throughout the chapters to inform you when to start a particular song that you can find here in the All Hands on Deck playlist (Also can be found on the masterlist). For the best experience, listen with headphones, AND FOLLOW ALONG WITH THE STORY. Please try to use your imagination when listening and reading - live through the words. Have fun :) - Saylor]

Day 3 - ANIELLE PORT - “Welcome to Anielle! The Ellywe Voyager will depart tomorrow at noon, so make sure you are back onboard!”

“Wake up you lazy bum,” Aelin straddles atop Manon on her bed, pillow in hand, ready to hit and smother her. She strikes with the soft cotton once, reviving her comatose roommate. Aelin makes a move to strike once more when the aggravated, waken beast catches the pillow mid-swing, much to Aelinʻs surprise.

“Hit me again and Iʻll gut you,” Manon threatens with a deadly tone.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Aelin smirks, gets off of Manon and heads towards their bathroom, “donʻt worry, I wonʻt take it personally. You do get grouchy when you donʻt get enough sleep,” she pokes her head out of the bathroom to look at Manon, “So who, pray tell, kept you out so late last night, a handsome activities director perhaps?”

“I have no idea what youʻre talking about,” Manon refutes drowsily, now sitting up against her bed frame.

“Oh come on,” Aelin pushes back, now sitting at the foot of Manonʻs bed, “you think I havenʻt noticed the little ʻflirty thingʻ going on between you two?”

“Thereʻs nothing ʻgoing onʻ,” Manon shares with air quotes.

“Oh yeah? Well then whereʻd you go last night?”

“Nowhere, I just stayed back to help Dorian clean up from the show,” Manon gets cut off by Aelinʻs burst of laughter.

Aelin, breathless and on the brink of losing it again, “You? You helped him clean up from the show? Manon you have never once offered to be helpful or selflessly volunteered to do something for someone,” she giggles even more, “Oh my god, you are SO into him.”

“Oh shut up,” Manon throws the pillow at Aelin and she falls back in laughter, but because she was at the foot of her bed she ended up tumbling over and falls on the ground. Manon cackles at the sight of Aelin on the ground, getting up and flipping her off.

Eventually they both calm down from their humorous morning and relocate to their patio balcony, looking over the docks and people watch.

“Where are we?” Manon inquires.

“Anielle, Lys and Aedionʻs door says they went out on a hike and I have no clue where Elide and Lorcan went,” Chaol was from Anielle and from what she last heard, he was home visiting family, most likely introducing his new girlfriend to his parents. “You feel like getting off the ship and hitting up the supermarket?”

“Nah,” Manon shares, and Aelin feels a sense of relief, sheʻs not exactly sure why. Although it was highly unlikely she would run into him, she decided not to leave the ship at this particular port, just in case, after all the Gods did hate her and she wouldn't put it past them to somehow place her ex in her path. “Wanna look around the ship more? Iʻm sure thereʻs more to this big floating raft than just the pool and Sky deck.”

“Sounds like fun, letʻs do it,” Aelin was happy to have this time with Manon. It had always been Manon and Elide, the two roommates turned inseparable best friends. She could tell that ever since Lorcan entered the picture, Manon had been getting left out. Now, with them being the two singles in their friend group, they have time to get closer and become great friends.

The two women get ready for the day, leaving their room after organizing their doorʻs magnets into the message “out exploring” and then they stroll off to the food bar before their day plans to grab a quick cup of coffee and say good morning to Emrys and Luca. To begin their adventure, they continue on the Lido deck, already familiar with the pool, they investigate the extensive food buffet bar. They find that Emrys and Lucaʻs station specialize in breakfast foods in the morning and then offer fresh burgers and fries for the rest of the day. A little further down they find the all-you-can-eat salad bar, the ice cream machines, and the dessert bakery. Aelin sets her sights on the most glorious stack of chocolate cakes she has ever seen. Her mouth waters and she begs Manon to stop for her to grab a slice and demolish it.

They move on to the opposite side of the pool, they happen upon the hot tub jacuzzi and the sauna rooms nearby. Traveling a little further down, they find four ping pong tables, three occupied with intense, heated games. They halt for a quick game on the remaining, open table. A game that Manon absolutely destroys Aelin at. Who knew Manon was so speedy and had the most precise hand-eye coordination? Also near the ping pong tables they notice giant chess and checker boards with giant, life-sized pieces.

They make their way to the stairs and travel up to the next deck, the Sports deck. They walk around, taking note of the basketball courts and the mini-golf putt courses. Taking the elevators to the Verandah deck, they find the fancy, dress up, sit down restaurant, The Antica. The two women agree to drag the rest of their friend group there later that night to finally have a family style meal.

Moving to the Promenade level, where they knew the music room was located, they found a library and recreational center on the opposite side of the ship. Aelinʻs passions had always been music and reading so she found her comfort, happy place in the shipʻs library. She dragged Manon through the libraryʻs alcoves and bookcases, finding a brilliant, diverse collection of stories and works.

Coincidentally enough, the two run into Dorian Havilliard, his nose stuck in a book in the deepest shelf in the library.

“My, my,” Aelin spooks Dorian who jerks up from his reading, “heʻs devastatingly handsome, and he reads, how very ostentatious of you Mr. Havilliard.”

He blushes and grins at the realization of being caught, “My preferred method of escape,” he closes his book and returns it to the shelf, “how may I be of assistance today,” his dazzling smile returning.

“Well being an avid reader myself, Iʻd love to share some recommendations with you later but for now could you point us in the direction of some attractions on this massive ship.”

“Absolutely, have you guys seen the dance club or the arcade/casino lounge bar yet?” The two shake their head, “Why donʻt I escort you guys?” They happily accept the tour and Aelin takes the role as wing-woman, nudging Manon closer to Dorian every so often. Aelin doesnʻt miss the murderous glare Manon gives her in warning, she just sticks her tongue out, scrunching her nose, and continues on. Dorian gives them the full tour of the dark, vacant dance club. She made a mental note to visit later and experience the chaotic night life first-hand. Then Dorian shows them through the casino lounge, Aelin sticking close to Manon in fear that sheʻd be tempted and fall victim to the trap of gambling, again.

The three of them return to the main deck when Aelin gets distracted by the sound of soft piano playing.

[A.N.] Play “Pantomime” by Ben Hammersley now, follow along, and let your imagination work. Find playlist here.

Aelin canʻt determine where the music is coming from, which intrigues and sparks her curiosity.

BREAK TIES

BUT STRUGGLE WITH THE CHAINS IN LIFE

YOUʻLL ALWAYS BE THE PUPPET WIRE

STAPLED TO MY HEART

IʻM WASHED OUT

IN SORROW AND IN GLORY

ITʻS ALL THE SAME OLD STORY

BUT THIS WILL BE THE TIME

AND I DONʻT KNOW WHY YOU CALL

WHEN ITʻS ALL GOING WRONG

OH, I DONʻT KNOW

IʻLL TELL YOU WHAT YOU WANT

AND I DONʻT KNOW WHY YOU CALL

WHEN ITʻS ALL GOING WRONG

OH, I DONʻT KNOW

IʻLL TELL YOU WHAT YOU WANT

- Aelin addresses Manon and Dorian, “Do you guys hear that?”

They both nod, looking just as confused and curious. They collectively take on the challenge of the mystery and peruse around the ship trying to find the source of the music. -

FORGIVE ME

FOR ALL THAT I HAVE DONE

AND ALL THAT I WILL DO

ITʻS NOT BECAUSE OF YOU

IʻM DARKER NOW

AND DARKER WITH EACH DAY

AS BOTH OF YOUR FACES

START TO LOOK THE SAME

AND I DONʻT KNOW WHY YOU CALL

WHEN ITʻS ALL GOING WRONG

OH, I DONʻT KNOW

IʻLL TELL YOU WHAT YOU WANT

AND I DONʻT KNOW WHY YOU CALL

WHEN ITʻS ALL GOING WRONG

OH, I DONʻT KNOW

IʻLL TELL YOU WHAT YOU WANT

IʻLL TELL YOU WHAT YOU REALLY WANT

TO HEAR

- They follow the sound, leading them to the elegant ballroom. Aelin spots a small crowd, formed around where she last recalled the grand piano. The three respectively move around people to take part in whatever has captured everyoneʻs attention. -

AND I DONʻT KNOW WHY YOU CALL

WHEN ITʻS ALL GOING WRONG

OH, I DONʻT KNOW

IʻLL TELL YOU WHAT YOU WANT

AND I DONʻT KNOW WHY YOU CALL

WHEN ITʻS ALL GOING WRONG

OH, I DONʻT KNOW

IʻLL TELL YOU WHAT YOU WANT

IʻLL TELL YOU WHAT YOU REALLY WANT

TO HEAR

- Aelin slips in through a crack in the wall of bodies just as the maestro ends and the crowd applauses. She catches Rowanʻs attention, sitting at the piano, a soft smile plastered over his tanned, slightly pink from sunburn, face. He clears his throat, now fully aware of her presence, and then addresses his small audience.

“This one, I wrote recently, itʻs called Rome.”

[A.N.] Start “Rome” by Dermot Kennedy now, follow along, and let your imagination run wild. Find playlist here.

Rowan: SO WHATʻS THE PAST FOR?

IʻLL NEED IT IF LOVE DONʻT LAST LONG

YOU CAN RUN AROUND INFINITE IN MY HEAD

OH YOU CANʻT SEE, OH, IʻD STAY IF YOU ASKED ME

NOW YOU KNOW I CARE,

BUT ITʻS HARD TO TELL WHEN YOUʻRE SCARED

BUT LAST NIGHT

IT HURT ME TO HEAR YOU SAY IT FELT BROKEN

AND EVEN THOUGH I TRIED

ALL THESE MEMORIES RUN MY MIND IN SLOW MOTION

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN

MIDNIGHT DRIVES WHEN YOUʻD SING

IʻD PLAY YOU SONGS YOU WERE IN?

I JUST WANT TO BE THERE AGAIN

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN

WITH ROME BELOW US THAT DAY

YOU SAID, “I WISH WE COULD STAY”

I JUST WANT TO BE THERE AGAIN

REMEMBER THAT FIRST LAUGH?

ALL IT CHANGED ONCE I HAD THAT

LIKE A HURRICANE, BUT I DONʻT CARE WHERE I LAND

SO, DANCE CAREFREE, I HOPE ITʻS EASIER KNOWING ME

NOW, YOUR SOUL IS YOURS, BUT IʻLL HELP IT MOVE IF I CAN

BUT LAST NIGHT

IT HURT ME TO HEAR YOU SAY IT FELT BROKEN

AND EVEN THOUGH I TRIED

ALL THESE MEMORIES RUN MY MIND IN SLOW MOTION

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN

MIDNIGHT DRIVES WHEN YOUʻD SING

IʻD PLAY YOU SONGS YOU WERE IN?

I JUST WANT TO BE THERE AGAIN

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN

WITH ROME BELOW US THAT DAY

YOU SAID, “I WISH WE COULD STAY”

I JUST WANT TO BE THERE AGAIN

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN, OH

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN

I DONʻT EVER WANNA LEAVE WHEN YOU CRY

I KNOW I GIVE YOU REASONS TO HIDE

I NEED YOU TO STAY BY MY SIDE

FIRST SHOOTINʻ STAR THAT YOU EVER SAW

WE WERE RIGHT ON OUR FEET THOUGH, RIGHT?

OPENING THE CAR DOOR FOR LIGHT

I REALLY THOUGHT IʻD LOSE YOU THAT TIME

- Their eyes lock onto each other -

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN

MIDNIGHT DRIVES WHEN YOUʻD SING

IʻD PLAY YOU SONGS YOU WERE IN?

I JUST WANT TO BE THERE AGAIN

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN

WITH ROME BELOW US THAT DAY

YOU SAID, “I WISH WE COULD STAY”

I JUST WANT TO BE THERE AGAIN

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN, OH

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN, OH

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN

OOH, AH

OOH, OOH

- The crowd cheers and applauses, Aelin shortly following them once her heart slowed to a healthy pace. She offers Rowan a shy, sincere smile and then proceeds to grab Manon by the wrist and drag her back to the library where she letʻs out her panicked, disoriented rambling. Manon manages to calm her down by opening up a nearby book and getting Aelin to start reading. She spent the next few hours reading the book, totally oblivious to the real world and her surroundings. Once completed, she returns, finding Manon no where to be found. She probably went off to see Dorian no doubt. Aelin makes it to her empty cabin room and takes a nap, waiting for her friends to return.

Night 3 - ANIELLE PORT - “Movie Night: ʻBeauty and the Beastʻ Tonight on the Lido deck at 8:30pm, Come join us!”

Aelin wakes from her nap right at the peak of the sunset. She enjoys the beautiful display of colors from the comfort of her cabinʻs patio balcony, basking in the silence and alone time.

She leaves her room and notices across the hall on Lys and Aedionʻs door, the magnets reading ʻHomeʻ, so she knocks and to her surprise, Lorcan opens the door. He lets her in and finds all her friends; Lys, Aedion, Manon, and Elide in a heated game of cards.

“Hey sleepyhead,” her cousin greets, looking up from his unfortunately delt hand.

“How was your hike?”

“Oh it was awesome, right Lys?”

“Oh yeah, it was so much fun, you guys should have come, we left really early though, we tried knocking on your door but you two must have still been sleeping,” Lysandra answers.

“Next time. And you guys?,” Aelin gestures to Elide,” what did you and Lorcan do today?”

“The cruise offered us some honeymoon spa sessions, so we got some couple massages today,” Elide grabs for Lorcanʻs hand, their engagement bands clinking.

“Sounds fun”

“We were actually waiting for you, weʻre all going to get ready, dress up all nice and fancy and go to dinner. And then maybe weʻll stop by for the movie tonight?” Manon pitches.

They finish their game and everyone ushers off to prepare for dinner. Manon puts on a one shoulder, black to red ombre dress that falls all the way to the floor. She styles it with thin, black strapped, open-toed high heels and red, ruby earrings. Aelin decides to wear a deep blue, backless, form fitting dress with a deep v-neck, presenting her flattering cleavage, and a front slit reaching to her high-mid thigh. She styles her ensemble with creme colored close-toed heels, and a warm, creme-toned bracelet and pendant necklace.

The two meet back up with the group, everyone styled very fancy and professional. “Wow, you boys clean up nicely, and ladies you look as beautiful as ever,” Aelin exclaims enthusiastically. Aelin and Manon lead the way to The Antica on the Verandah deck. A server meets them at the entrance and informs them that there is assigned seating. He asks for their keycards and they provide them, he looks over their cards indicating their place on the seating chart and then leads the way.

They are shown to a large, round table, able to seat nine maybe ten. They each take a seat, Aelin and Lorcan being the bookends with the other empty seats in between them. The waiter returns, taking the tables order for drinks, they order a bottle of red wine for the table. After about ten minutes, three very attractive men, in formal wear, are guided to the table by another server and they each take their seats. Connal takes the empty seat next to Lorcan, opposite Elide, Fenrys beside his twin, and Rowan next to Aelin.

“Evening everyone,” Rowan greets. His deep, sensuous voice sends a warm tingle down Aelinʻs spine. “Aelin” he says more quietly, and only to her, in greeting. Her eyes graze over his finely-tailored suit and his styled hair. Wow, she thinks to herself. How is it possible for him to look even more fine. Her train of thought gets cut off when the waiter returns with the bottle of wine they ordered, he then goes around taking drink orders for the new patrons.

“Iʻm fine with just a water, thank you,” Rowan informs the waiter. Aelin tries really hard to focus on the menu in front of her, but her eyes continually wander elsewhere. Before she knew it, the waiter confronted the table, jotting down everyoneʻs order for their entree. The waiter gets to Rowan and Aelin monitors his face, not exactly hearing any words. The waiter gets to her and still being undecided she blurts out, “Iʻll have what heʻs having.”

“Escargot?” Rowan questions in disbelief.

“Um, yeah, Iʻll have whatever he said,” she notifies the waiter, having absolutely no clue what escargot is.

For the duration of the wait for their meals, the entire table take part in friendly discussion. They share jokes and laughs and Aelin recognizes feeling comfortable, happy even, with this group of individuals.

Their food arrives and Aelin stares at her plate for a few minutes. Snails. Rowan had ordered cooked snails. In their shells and everything. And like an idiot who couldn't pay attention for five seconds, she ordered them too. Not ready to own up to her idiocy, Aelin takes a few bites of her questionable meal. Not terrible, she thinks to herself, but this is definitely a one time thing, god Iʻm going to have to stuff my face with so much cake after this.

The group finishes their meals and wine, continuing their exciting conversations which everyone contributes in. Manon brings up her idea to catch the showing of ʻBeauty and the Beastʻ on the Lido deck and so the group finishes up their thoughts, cleans up a little and travel together to the Lido deck. Before finding their seats, they all stop by the ice cream machine and help themselves to a creamy, soft-serve cone. Aelin takes the chance to sneak away and head further in the bar and gets to the dessert bakery. She snags a slice of chocolate cake and begins devouring it.

“Still a fan of chocolate, I see,”

Aelin turns, mouth full of cake, “you caught me”

She says it so innocently that Rowan canʻt help but laugh.

“Did you want some?” she offers him a bite. He holds up his hand.

“No, thank you though, I just wanted to check on you, make sure youʻre okay.”

She laughs, “Hm let me see, besides eating snails, Iʻve found the library, read a really fascinating book, taken a nap, and tried the best cake Iʻve ever tasted, Iʻd say Iʻm doing pretty great.”

They share an intimate moment of pure laughter and joy.

“Well we better get back to everybody, Iʻm sure the movieʻs about to start.”

She follows his lead and they find their friends. They lay on deck chairs facing the projector screen, right next to each other. The rest of the night is a dream. Throughout the movie, she shares laughs with her friends, old and new, and she shares a few lingering glances with the man in the chair next to her. Aelin and her friends sing along with the songs of the movie, a little too loudly at times, earning annoying glares from nearby children. When the movie ends, the two groups share hugs and promises to hangout and do something the next day. A tired Manon and Aelin safely make it back to their cabin and Aelin quickly drifts off into a deep slumber, dreaming of being Beauty with a certain, familiar Beast.

All Hands on Deck taglist:

@smalltddygothgf @booksbqueen @underworldboxers @live-the-fangirl-life @booknerdproblems @rowaelinismyotp

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mr-meekers · 5 years ago

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Aster x Elle drabble #1

Part One: The Invitation

The thing about being a prince is that everyone always seems to know where you are.

It is probably the most inconvenient part of Aster’s life, being watched and monitored like child pretending at almost-adulthood. And though his skills at sneaking about had, of course, grown exponentially through the years, it seemed as if for every step he took forward his personal guard took two.

Blythe was waiting for him around the corner. If he hadn’t come to expect this of her, he might’ve been spooked. Her deep brown skin and pitch black hair blended into the shadows of the castle hall beautifully. But the shine of her armor and the glint of her sword hilt had given her away to Aster in a heartbeat. As did her ancestral family crest, carved into the hairpiece she used to keep her braided hair tied up tight in a knot about her head. It was the only bit of Ellywe she insisted on carrying with her every day. Aster’s own crest- the royal crest- shone proudly from her breastplate. After the war, King Dorian had refashioned the Havilliard crest, from a wyvern poised to strike in battle to one in flight, carrying Damaris, the family sword, in one clawed foot, and a scarred shield in the other. “So the rest of the world knows that while we are willing to fight, and have in the past,” his father once explained, “we are always willing to defend those in need. We have a debt to pay to this continent, and it is up to us to see it paid in full.”

That was when Aster knew his father was a good king. It was also when Aster decided that he would be a great one.

“Your highness,” Blythe said, bowing at the waist, “how fortunate that I have caught you.”

Aster rolled his eyes and kept walking, Blythe falling seamlessly into step behind him. “My dearest Blythe, you have been on my tail since I left the library.” Indeed, the idea that Blythe of all people had simply “caught up to him,” as if she hadn’t been in his shadow the entire duration of his foray into this wing of the castle, was laughable. “What am I late for now?”

A twinkle in the guard’s eyes was the only hint of amusement on her stony visage. “A letter, Your Highness.” Pulling the scroll from her pocket, she handed it to Aster. The seal had not been broken yet, meaning it was a personal missive. And the seal...

“When did this arrive?” He questioned, breaking into the scroll immediately.

Blythe let a sly smirk through at that. “Not two hours ago. If you’d been in your room, as you were supposed to be...” She let the sentence trail off, raising a surprisingly delicate eyebrow instead to make her point. Aster sighed but said nothing in return. He quickened his pace, letting muscle memory take over as he raced for rooms.

The note was sealed shut with the royal crest of Terrason’s ruling family. And since he was quite confident the Queen would not be the one sending him letters, the likeliest choice would be-

“You got one, too?”

Aster started, just pivoting his steps in time to avoid mowing down his younger sister. Tess stood directly in his path, a confident hand on her hip as she held a very similar looking bit of parchment in the other. Behind her, Soren stood, as well, his scroll wrapped up neatly once more and held lazily at his side. Aster’s jaw twitched in annoyance before he could school his face. Tess caught it and chuckled. “Aw, big brother. I’m sorry you aren’t special. But the invite was for all of us and it wouldn’t be Elle if she didn’t hand write all the invites herself.” She paused. “Well, at least, the important ones.”

“Invites?” Aster asked, curious. He hasn’t gotten that far yet. Typical Eliana, droning on for half a page about her latest goings-on before getting tot he damned point. He skimmed down to the bottom- but not before vowing to go back and read over every word carefully once he was back in the safety of his room. There, in elegant script, it read;

With this, I am hereby officially inviting you to my Not Actually an Engagement Ball. If you cannot be there, do let me know, as I will have to call the whole thing off because I refuse to suffer through it without your company. I fear it will be the only thing to keep me sane. Write me back as soon as you get this, and I look forward to seeing you soon!

Your dearest, most irreplaceable friend, Elle

Aster couldn’t breath for a moment. “An... An engagement ball?”

“Actually, I think it specifically stated that it was Not Actually an Engagement Ball.” Soren noted softly

“From what I heard,” Tess continued, “the Terrasen council is getting antsy about Elle’s future, and this is just to get them off her back.” She offered her older brother a sly wink. “Our dear princess isn’t getting hitched to anyone any time soon, big brother. No need to panic.” Tess shared a look with Soren, who pushed off from the wall he had leaned up against. “We’re heading back to confirm our invites. Mother said we’ll be attending as her representatives, so I’m guessing you’ll be Father’s.” Brushing past him, Tess patted Aster’s shoulder fondly. “Better start preparing soon, Aster. We’ll be leaving by the end of the week.”

#tog #throne of glass #throne of glass drabble #throne of glass headcanon #manorian headcanon #tog future #throne of glass future #meekers #manorian

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bitchryver · 6 years ago

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Headcanons on how the ToG series might have gone if Sam and Nehemia had stayed alive? I’ve been pondering on it myself, since I want to write a fanfic kinda involving how that dynamic would have played out with the story.

oooohhhh my gooooddd im so delighted you asked me that I have SO many thoughts!!! I’d love to read a fanfic like that bc im always……thinkin abt it

okay so in MY head it goes a lil somethin like this:

In terms of Sam, the plot of the final story in TaB goes ahead as it does in canon- Arobynn tells Celaena that Sam is dead, BUT this time he tells her one of his spies reported they saw sams body in Rourke Farrans house.

So good ol celaena, like the big dumb chaotic aries moon she is and forever will be, goes to farrans house for revenge.

Except- its a trap to catch her, like it is in canon, and she ends up in endovier.

But this time, instead of grieving for sam and dealing with the fact that arobynn might have betrayed her, she believes both arobynn AND sam have betrayed her

Maybe because she doesn’t see sam in farrans so she thinks its a trap, or maybe arobynns plan to seperate the two is to manipulate the two apart by sowing that seed of doubt in celaena, knowing that she will return to only trusting him, so he plans to have celaena think sam is in on it

Now when Sam hears celaena’s gone to endovier? loses it. He’s totally suspicious of Arobynn and enlists the help of lys & Wesley to get revenge/ and or get her out.

I don’t know whether he would stay with arobynn- part of me imagines celaena being gone means he’d have to pay off his debts again or something, maybe he wants to hang around arobynn to gather more information about why he set celaena up

i don’t really think he could bear to live in celaenas apartment, because i think he’d feel REALLY guilty and angry.

so sam doesn’t succeed in breaking celaena out before dorian gets to her, and i think he as a character would grow a bit tougher and a bit meaner. maybe throw himself into the pit fighting a bit more.

so dorian comes to exploit i mean free celaena, and then i think the plot progress as normal- in terms of how nehemia is introduced, and how their relationship develops.

[quick side note-i think celaena, still reeling from what she thinks is a betrayal, and then a terrible year, maybe does go through with the dorian half-romance b plot in the first book, and then can’t go through with it in the end. I don’t think she would go for chaol at all, because part of the reason she’s drawn to him is the sense of stability he provides, and because its a chance for the life she wanted with sam- stability and sam-like traits work against her in this timeline; why would she be so taken when chaol says he’d leave adarlan with her? Sam promised to do the same and he betrayed her.]

Now in terms of Nehemia- like i said, the plot progresses as normal in terms of their relationship and interactions, and nehemias desire to force celaena to become the person she needs her to be- this time, NOT because she think aelin/celaena is the only one who can save her people or her country or whatever, but because her firepower and her country are valuable assests to the strategy nehemia wants to plan for her country/

and nehemia is working on dorian AND aelin at the same time, but she feels way less bad for dorian. She’s determined that this is what needs to be done, that it HAS to be done that way, but she’s really struggling with the guilt of watching celaena clearly struggle a year out of endovier.

I think she’d also be slightly, secretly angry at celaena/aelin- like she COULDN’T understand why and how aelin would want to shirk her role as a queen. And I can see that tension being there for a while as a response to nehemias guilt, maybe to mask it, because she genuinely has come to love celaena.

So I think it goes one of two ways- Nehemia fakes her death as a way of escaping the castle and the dodgy rebels to get back to Ellywe with the information she’s learned, making an educated guess that doing so will tip the emotional tether in celaena to force her to become aelin. aelin = firepower = fighting skills = terrasen army. jackpot.

OR celaena eventually confies in Nehemia, instead of chaol that she’s the Queen, and then its Nehemia who convinces the King to send her to Wendlyn.

And that creates a massive tension because celaena is like WHAT i JUST told you these people are literally related to me

And she’s angrier than she’s ever been because this, to her, is betrayal no. 2

Maybe its that anger, instead of grief that fuels her revival as aelin.

So then back to Sam- I don’t know exactly if he’d be part of the Terrasen resistance, but I think maybe celaena being taken to endovier, run by adarlan tips him into Fuck Those Guys territory.

Either way, when celaena runs into Archer in book 2, archer goes back to sam to say GUESS WHAT

celaena is not only alive, but working for the king! she’s the kings champion!

Sam either takes this well: I cant believe they would make her work for them how terrible are they lets keep resisiting them

Or he takes it badly i.e “You mean to tell me I’ve been working against adarlan FOR her this entire time and she’s been working for them happy as a clam? she just SIGNED over her life to the guy?? Fuck her”

Because here’s the thing- I don’t see a role for a chaol in a world where sam is still alive, because I think sam would fill the role chaol occupies in com/hof/qos/tod/- the bitter, jilted lover who felt like they gave up SO much for her and look what she’s gone and done that stupid bitch

Im saying this based on how sam confesses to celaena in TaB- he knows they are BOTH being abused by arobynn, he knows he’s the only one of the two that recognises it as abuse, and he still says to her that he can’t be around her if she “chose” arobynn over him. He doesn’t really….want to share.

OR option 3: In the timeline where Nehemia sends Celaena to Wendlyn, Nehemia herself stays in Adarlan and continues working with the rebels, one of whom is Sam. From Sam she learns more about celaenas back story and begins to feel a bit more understanding of her, and begins to queitly pray that she’s done the right thing, that celaena will understand why it had to be done. I don’t think she would make apologies for it, but she would be genuinely concerned about how she’s doing over there, unlike every other character in hof.

But Sam learns from Nehemia about Celaenas brief dalliance with Dorian, or learns from Aedion about who she actually is. I don’t think it would be the knowledge of who she is that bothers him, like it did chaol, but instead the idea, warped by the bitterness of her and dorian, that she had all this power all this time and ran away from it. I see that being that kicker in the confrontation, and I see Aelin having to have the conversation on the balcony with him instead of chaol.

Ok so second side note, and i havent finished koa so i dont know if we meet the royal family in Ellywe or if we learn whether or not they knew about her plans but in the timeline where Nehemia returns to Ellwye, the court and her family are FURIOUS with her, 1. because she’s the heir to the throne in an increasingly dangerous environment what do you mean you faked your death to escape the country are you fucking serious??? WHY??? and maybe these grown men in her court don’t take her seriously because thats a big theme.and then 2. because her court are annoyed she took the iniative to do something so they keep chipping away at her- where is your firebringer- oh she’s not here? and we don’t have a guaranteed alliance? and you’re not in contact with the rebels because 1. they think youre dead and 2. one of their leaders was murdered by your friend to avenge you? Hows that gonna help. So she has to fight for their approval the same way aelin later fights darrow. what a beautiful parallel that would be.

Like imagine the JOY and relief and FEAR nehemia would feel upon hearing about aelin setting maeves people on fire- she begins to wonder for the first time,,, who is it she’s actually unleashed…. and will she want to help her?

Sorry I know thats SO long and rambly and kind of aelin centric i literally dont know how to write ANYTHING without including ms [g]a[y]shryver in it. also i cannot,,,,,, spell,,,, but THANK YOU for this ask i hope your fanfic goes well!!!!!

#answered #long post #kandasboi #GOD IMAGINE

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rayonfrozenwings · 6 years ago

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6 + 26 for the KoA ask :D

Thank you sweet dear Leslie! Who is asleep right now so I hope you see my rambling upon waking.

6) What alliances do you think are possible, moving forward?MY PREDICTIONS - just saying, you don’t need to agree with me.

So I have a few, it depends how I think the battle is going to go down and I have a couple of ideas for that. But I will attempt to narrow it down to my most likely scenario.

Good guys - aka Aelin’s Team

Lysandra and Aedion will go up the coast to Ardarlan, possibly talk to any remaining rebels there or courtesans etc. Then with these people on side, head to Terrasen and meet up with the Bane and the Rebels in the North, aka, Ren Allsbrook and his Dad as well as Nox Owen who is chilling with them. Evangaline will have worked some magic on Darrow and charmed them all without them realising it or found that special flower that will make darrow change his mind. Rolfe’s fleet will partol the seas between ilium and ardarlan with Galan and the whitethorn armada.Meanwhile Dorian, Manon and the thirteen are going to head to Fenharrow. I feel like fenharrow is linked with the crochran witches, “fens” often have a witch in them as other stories i’ve read - so why not this one. Its also where Yrene and Sorscha are from originally. Coincidence? I don’t think so.

Ansel and Elias are going to head through Melisande again. and probably head up through the wastes to come up on Morath’s west side. I do not think the final battle will take place at Morath. It was a place of containment for Erawan, based on where their last battle with gavin and elena was, so I think the big battle will be near the ferrian gap and Anneille in the centre of Erilea. anyway, Ansel and Elias are going to have to learn to get along and head up the back side of the mountain range and prevent anyone escaping.

We have the southern army made up of ruk riders, horsemen, and the fleet coming too with some heros like Nesryn, Sartaq, Kashin, Hasan, Chaol, Yrene.

Side note on fleets - Because we have three fleets we must be having some sort of naval battle at some point. either in defense of Ardarlan or somewhere in the gulf of Oro. We know that the King of Xandria is a little scary from The assassins blade - while we simultaneously know absolutely nothing about him except he likes his horses - a possible enemy like vernon, a thorn in our heroes side.

There are some dunes down there called the Black dunes so maybe there is something dark happening over there. I’ve thought for a long time that Maeve is linked to the goddess of dreams Lani so it wouldn’t surprise me if she is hanging out with the cult down there as if she is their goddess returned. and Aelin chilling in some dank cells. (there is sweet smelling smoke entering her iron coffin in TOD, so this isnt completely unrealistic a stretch.) this also Means that that whole part of the map becomes important for the Aelin’s story line while everyone else is focused on Erawan in the mountains. Rowan would have a hard time down there since its a desert and his powers are wind and ice. cue - great tension and pain on behalf of the reader.

ok back to alliances, we have some people still in Ellywe because they got grumpy at the fires, so we know they haven’t been completely decimated. Melisande had a lovely old coup so more troops from there on Aelins side that weren't on her side before. Plus the smaller provinces that have been pushed down by the dominating power of the king of Ardarlan over the last 15-20 years. With him now dead and the city destroyed by the witches, these people might be able to claim back their own independence. Maybe even working with the larger powers (terrasen/ etc) to secure their independence later through good faith and stuff.

I feel like the whole continent is going to have to choose a side, sitting on the fence isn’t an option. Now the bad guys. They are going to have alliances too.

Erawan

I think Erawan will be left with the blackbeak matron and the yellowlegs matron and the yellow legs army. i feel like the blackbeaks have the possibility of choosing a new leader in Manon and turning on the Matron. Which I would live for!!!! but Manon need to be an equal force to the matron for that to happen - like gaining an army of crochran witches first. they wont defect to someone weaker.

Blueblood witches have a strong link to prophecy and are smart enough to choose the winning side. So Petra and her mother will side with Manon when the time is right - it might be the night before the final battle though.

Erawan will have his corrupted creatures, and we know he has an army of men too, as Manon met them in Morath while she had her armor made etc. I think of Saurman with his army of Urak Hai when I think of this army of Erawans, hopefully he gets his ass handed to him like Sarumon did (crap sorry if my spelling is off).

Erawan will also have the mountain men of the white fang mountains.

Erawan will also have Chaol’s dad (sorry Chaol your going to have a hard time). and perhaps Georgina and Hollin as hostages, well looked after but still to be used when the time is convenient to hurt Dorian.

Erawan lost his allies in Melisande thanks to Ansel.

Maeve

her enslaved and compliant evil people, like Cairn and Fenrys.

the cult people - the priestess of lani

and the king of Xandria.

stygian spiders. those creepy bitches with that shifty leader who stole those shape shifting powers from Falken .

I’ve probably left people out. but this is just out of my head. I made a post yesterday called “Attack formations” but i think i’ve been more clear in this prediction. :D :D :D :D

sorry team - incase you don’t know, i’m a little obsessed with these books.

26) Do you think Elena is an Actual Idiot, or do you understand her POV?

Um both.

because she doesn't know A N Y T H I N G but at the same time knows E V E R Y T H I N G. which is actually the wrong information.

but also she has tried her hardest with what she has and she has been manipulated too. Even Brannon didn't know everything when Aelin talked to him. They are only mortal (ghosts but still led mortal lives) and are limited by their experience and knowledge - they are not omnipresent gods. How therefore can they know more than they have been told?so I guess I understand her but also shes doing her best its just that her best sucks.

Koa Ask Meme QuestionsSend me an ask! :D

#wow that got long #ask meme #koa #koa predictions #brotp: vindictive ennui #alliances #elena #brannon #erawan #maeve #aelin #rowan #bookofmirth #renee answers

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shewhotellsstories · 7 years ago

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Your Fave is Problematic Pt. 5: Not that kind of girl

Fair warnng this is critical of Sarah J. Maas’ writing.

Celaena from Throne of Glass unlike Clary doesn’t entirely reject traditional expressions of femininity. She is traditionally beautiful and she knows it. She enjoys frilly dresses, books, and swords alike. She also has a tendency to behave in an “unladylike” fashion. However, she does not like or trust other women:

“She never had many friends and the ones she had often disappointed her. Sometimes with devastating consequences, as she’d learned that summer with the Silent Assassins of the Red Desert. After that, she’d sworn never to trust girls again, especially girls with agendas and power of their own. Girls who would do anything to get what they wanted.” (Throne of Glass 166)

Adarlan, the Kingdom Celaena finds herself, in is a ruthless place. It’s filled with individuals with agendas and power. Those who inhabit the royal court are people who will go above and beyond to get what they want. Trusting anyone is the castle or the kingdom as a whole could cost a person his or her life. So despite the ways, she may have been hurt in the Red Desert, in this world she has as much to fear from men as women. The current king is responsible for the slaughter of her family. Her father figure exploited her abilities for years and groomed her to be a killer before she was even an adolescent. During her time in the mines, she witnessed undertakers sexually assault young women enslaved the way she was. So after a lifetime of trauma and betrayal why isn’t Celaena as weary of the men in this world as the women?

For Celaena, the girls she is pointedly not like are social climbing, boy obsessed, vindictive, empty headed, and for good measure, catty. “Are all of your royal women like that?” the princess said to Celaena in Eyllwe. “Like Kaltain? Unfortunately, Your Highness.” (Throne of Glass 160) This conversation takes place between Celaena and Princess Nehemia. Celaena hasn’t been inside the castle longer than Nehemia and being that she is being heavily guarded Celaena has not had the opportunity to interact with every woman and girl in the castle. Yet, after two negative encounters, one in which she calls the mentioned Kaltain Rompier a courtesan for expressing her interest in the prince she’s deduced that every woman in the castle is catty and empty-headed.

Celaena’s dislike for other women goes far beyond eye rolling. Early in the first book of the series from her balcony, she overhears a group of girls talking about her. One girl clearly jealous of Celaena’s arrival with the much sought-after Prince Dorian calls Celaena a harlot. She responds to this by dropping a flower pot off from her balcony onto them. Now it doesn’t actually hit any of them and it only succeeds in startling them, and this moment was clearly intended to be comical. It’s likely that many a girl or woman has dreamt of taking a similar course of action against the Regina Georges of the world, but a flower pot to the head could kill or seriously injure a person. And it should be mentioned that Celaena has a very short temper and that being trained for assassinship since the age of 8, with her the threat of violence is not idle as she could easily follow through. However, throughout the course of the book more than one character insults or provokes her, in those instances remembering that her freedom is at stake she manages to restrain herself. Unless it involves another girl.

Not all the women in the castle are catty and mean. Nehemia Ytger in particular. Nehemia is the crowned princess of Ellywe with a reputation for compassion and bravery. She is a symbol of hope for her people and upon first meeting her Celaena is in awe of her. Nehemia and Celaena at first bond over their mutual dislike of Kaltain Rompier an antagonist, whose story will be further explored in a later chapter, and the fact that Celaena is the only other person in the castle who can fluently speak Ellywe (Nehemia’s native language). Despite issues of dishonesty on both parts Nehemia and Celaena become very good friends. Nehemia and Celaena are two young women who for many reasons have to keep many secrets, yet in each other they find solace. After years of closing herself off, Celaena shares more of herself with Nehemia than she has allowed herself to share in years and is one of few people whose opinion she values. Their relationship falls into the trope of a heroine befriending a girl who’s been deemed an exception to the female gender.

Ultimately it’s Nehemia’s apparent murder and her devotion to her departed friend’s memory that causes Celaena to promise to see her friend’s kingdom freed. This sacrifice has implications that will be further examined later. Before her death, Celaena and Nehemia share a heated confrontation over Celaena’s unwillingness to challenge the king. When certain manipulations are brought to light, we get the message that she was in many ways the kind of girl Celaena had sworn not to trust.

Even when there are examples of female friendship, it seems that female relationships are inexplicably still tied up in men. Bonds are preserved or initiated not based on shared interests or experiences, but around men. Isabelle and Clary’s friendship is solidified when Isabelle learns that Clary saved her brother’s life and from her perspective spared her another painful loss. The friendship that Celaena and Lysandra develop provides an example of this too. Lysandra and Celaena spent their childhoods at odds with one another because of Arobynn Hamel (Celaena’s mentor). They are brought together the revelation that Arobynn had both girls’ first loves murdered. The desire to punish Arobynn ends the animosity between them when so many other things could have. The upbringing of an assassin and a courtesan are very similar in this universe. Clarisse, a madam, and Arobynn choose prospective students very carefully. They choose children who are parentless and homeless, groom them into their respective professions, and they force them to work off the costs of their education. But instead of bonding over having been exploited in a similar manner or the adult realization that Arobynn was playing them against each other, what ends their rivalry started over their competition for the approval of one man (Arobynn) is resolved because of the grief over two men.

It’s also worth noting that even in a matriarchal society presented, there’s no real friendship among the women, the Ironteeth Witches, that being immortal have centuries to bond. In addition to being literally man-eating, possessing superhuman strength, and ability to fly Ironteeth Witches are well known for their brutality. They raise their children to be heartless and cruel prizing these three things above all else: “obedience, discipline, and brutality.” (Heir of Fire 160)

The boys in the heroines lives also go out of their way to tell both them along with the audience that they’re “different.” Not from any other person they’ve ever met, but specifically from any other woman or girl they’ve ever met. In additional to strong female characters rejecting other women, they must also be defined and controlled by their relationships with men, a trope explored further in the next chapter.

#my senior thesis #anti sjm #anti sarah j maas #anti tog #internalized misogyny #feminism #internalized sexism #young adult fiction #celaena sardothien #nehemia ytger #lysandra #female friendshp #media literacy

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mayhemories · 7 years ago

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Braids & War Paint (Part 9)

Notes On: Part 1: / Part 2: / Part 3: / Part 4: / Part 5: / Part 6: / Part 7: / Part 8:

Italics is bond talking.

“Be seen but not heard.” Said Evalin Ashryver, kissing the top of her daughter’s head. Aelin was dressed in various shades of brown for her travels, the track to Ellywe was long and her baby girl was going alone. But if her Fireheart had to leave, if Aelin had a reason for leaving like this, Evalin would support her trek, even if that meant Aelin had to be alone.

Evalin wasn’t naive, she knew just like the next person what Aelin’s power was like. Evalin knew firsthand how skilled she was with metal and weapons. She could almost feel the presence of the little folk from where they stood.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Aelin smiled. Evalin could see so much of Rhoe in her. “Would you like me to bring you anything?”

“I think my finger is calling for a new embellishment.” Evalin said, her sad, worried smile didn’t reach her eyes as she made the joke. Aelin will highly likely bring her home a ring.

“I’ll see you soon.” Aelin said before riding off on Kasida.

Rhoe’s hand rested on Evalin’s shoulder, it was comforting in the time when Evalin needed it. Like now, when the only thought running around Evalin’s head was that she was a bad mother, letting Aelin leave like that without anyone.

“Lady Marion said she’ll take Fleetfoot back with her and Elide to Perranth.” Rhoe said, neither of them wanted to move until Aelin was out of sight.

“What of Aedion and Lyansdra? When do they take leave for Illium?” Evalin asked. She hated when the castle was quiet, hated when her family was gone.

“Tonight.” That meant it would just be Evalin, Rhoe and Orlon. Evalin loved the Galathynius brother’s with all her heart, but Evalin lived for her daughter.

Aelin hated dust and her arse hurt so much she wanted to scream. She had made it to Rifthold by nightfall. She thanked the gods for her animal form, a human was a good disguise, a buzzard was not.

Dorian had advised her to stay clear of the Glass Castle. So she had done just that and found an inn. She laid on the stiff matress and thought of her buzzard. If she had planned correctly he would’ve received her hawk by now. She had tried not to think about Dorian’s letter, he had wrote her a frantic message about Wendlyn closing their borders, Doranelle closing all intercontinental shipments.

She wondered if her dreams weren’t dreams at all but visions or memories from a long time ago. She thought of how her grandmother always blesses her at Yulemas, she thought of Brannon and Elena and Gavin. What did Mala Fire-Bringer think of her? What did Mora think of her and Rowan?

Aelin hoped Aedion would pay his respects in Brannon’s temple while he was in Illium, only the Gods know the answer to all the bodies popping up in Illium and surrounds. All of them drained of blood.

If Rowan was here she could ask him more about Doranelle’s history. She had heard of Brannon being born a bastard there before he and Mala sailed across to Erilea. She had heard of the First War, when Valg had poured in through portals, many were killed or exiled back to their home dimension using powerful wyrdmarks. Very few of them remained in Erilea but the king remained, Erawan killed and slaughtered many members of the Bane centuries later. What happened next is muddy, some say Elena killed him, some say Elena sent him back to the pit he crawled from and others theorise that he had been suppressed somehow and that he would return again.

The demons of her dreams would have to be the Valg, there was no other explanation for it. Especially if they were memories or visions. Aelin had experienced visions before because of Brannon’s mark, but they hand never been this dark.

The Wyrd had been forged with keys, two of which Aelin knew of. She had one, The Amulet of Orynth and Dorian had the other, The Eye of Elena. Aelin was damned if she knew where the third one rested, or even what the third one was.

All of this speculating without fact hurt her brain, the two strings in her chest felt different, one laid loose- as if nothing was connected on the other end and the other felt taught. The latter was the carranam bond. When she was a child Aedion used to tell her bedtime stories of carranam that remade the world, the dreamers bought forth a better world for everyone.

Aelin sent his name barreling through the bond, deep down she knew it probably wouldn’t do anything. But she was a dreamer.

Rowan?

Nothing. For the first time Aelin felt alone and it was all Rowan’s fault, how dare he storm into her life all cannons blazing and then leave? She would see him soon enough but just the thought of him made her happy. But the idea of him leaving again made her want to hit him.

Aelin? Rowan’s accented voice slammed into her head loud and clear, her whole chest warmed, both strings felt a tug before she answered.

I didn’t expect this to work. Aelin laughed into the cold empty room.

Are you okay?

I’m fine as anyone could be in this shitty inn.

Inn? Are you travelling or just sneaking out?

I’m seeing Nehemia, I’ve been having…strange dreams recently.

It was quiet for a long time and Aelin had thought the connection had faded until he spoke up again.

Dreams? What of?

Lots of things- evil bastards usually. Aelin tried to joke about it but the screams still rang in her ears from last time she slept, she prayed Rowan couldn’t hear them.

We won’t talk about it if you don’t want to. He said, understanding her seriousness, with his own sense of wary Aelin could feel it from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes that Rowan knew what she spoke of.

But if we stop talking I’ll have to sleep and I’m not too keen to do that.

What if I read to you, Fireheart.

Okay. Aelin said as Rowan started to read the gods awfully good romance book she had slipped into his saddle bag.

That night Aelin fell asleep to Rowan’s voice and across the sea Rowan fell asleep with a romance novel in his lap.

A curt knock at Rowan’s door caused him to jump, the shitty romance novel he had been reading to Aelin fell out of his lap and slid under his bed.

Rowan quickly got to his feet, fixing his tunic as he opened the door.

Gavriel smiled at him.

“Let me guess,” Rowan said, his morning voice fleeting as he cleared his throat. “I’m wanted at breakfast.”

“How did you guess? You must have gotten smarter in Terrasen.” Gavriel said, rolling his eyes. Gavriel was the kindest of them but when he gets sarcastic he takes no prisoners.

The two of them walked through the light corridors of the Palace of Rivers. A maid quickly darted past them, carrying a vase of geraniums.

Aelin hated geraniums.

“Had a big night?” Gavriel quirked, gesturing to Rowan’s messy hair.

“New book.” Gavriel laughed at him before nudging him in the ribs.

“Since when do you read for fun?”

“I don’t.” Rowan grumbled as they passed a group of Wendlyn Nobles.

He was almost relieved to see Lorcan as he strode away from Gavriel’s teasing. Rowan had never been a morning person, neither is Lorcan.

The table had been set for sixteen, Rowan spied the place cards and calculated: there were seven of them, including Maeve. Three Ashryvers, Rowan’s uncle, Endymion, Sellene, Lady Remmele (Which Rowan couldn’t help but cringe at the sight of), Lord Benson and Lady Essar.

The breakfast had been going well, Rowan had been placed far away from Remmele and across from Enda, Sellene and His uncle. No one was really talking, quiet chit-chat in between close guests.

Until Remmele opened her godsdamned mouth.

“Prince Galan, her Majesty was telling me that you have been in Terrasen of late.” Remmele said, causing the room to fall into a cone of silence, everyone was listening now.

“Yes, Prince Rowan and I sailed over.” Galan said. Rowan was going to stab him in the thigh with his butterknife if he kept talking. He felt a kick under the table and was met with Endymion’s narrowed eyes.

“Oh really? And how was your…kin across the sea?” Rowan knew that Remmele only meant Aelin. His temper flared. Tales of Aelin’s war against the witches had reached Doranelle before the war was won. How Aelin had no need to dismount her horse, with one look she had burned through legions.

“One cousin I favoured more than the other Lady Remmele, if you want to know more about the Crown Princess I’m not the one you should be asking.” Galan said staring straight at Rowan, his mouth pressed into a straight line.

For the first time all morning, Maeve spoke:

“What did you think of my niece, Rowan?” Her voice stern and cold.

“Princess Aelin was everything the rumours suggested, my queen.” It was true. She was a fierce fighter, she was heavily trained, she was an expert with every form of weapon, she had the deepest power Rowan had ever encountered, she was the most beautiful life form to ever walk the earth, she had an inner circle to rival all of the spy rings in Wendlyn. She was too intelligent for her own good, she was reckless and wild. She was his, though that wasn’t a rumour nor was it well known.

“A threat to me, then?” Maeve said leaning back in her ornate dining chair, her finger with her nail shaped into a sharp point circled the rim of her drinking goblet. Her even voice caused the whole table to stiffen.

“Terrasen is just as big of a threat as any other, your Majesty.” Rowan said cryptically. He felt Lorcan’s gaze burning him. As well as Sellen’s worried eyes.

“I did not ask you, Prince Rowan, about Terrasen. I asked you about my niece.”

Rowan stayed silent.

That was the only answer Maeve needed.

She stood so quickly glasses and tableware shook. She left the dining hall, a plethora of Queen’s Guardsmen trailing after her, their purple capes fluttering in the ethereal breeze.

Rowan stabbed a piece of meat when everyone at the table started talking to him at once, save for the Ashryvers who quickly took their leave.

He couldn’t believe Maeve had the nerve to ask him about the threat of Aelin instead of asking him if Aelin would help them in a potential war against the Valg.

Darkness was the best time for it to crawl through.

It was made of smoke and was cut from the cloth of blackness that will cleave the world apart.

It jumped from room to room in the castle.

Until it could taste their breaths.

It held her in it’s claw, her blonde hair hung off her limply when she was in this rag doll state. With it’s sharpest claw on the opposite hand it cut her throat as it drank the scarlet life blood from her golden body.

It moved on to the other sleeping body, it was a male. Their blood never tasted as sweet. When his head hit the pillow seperate from it’s body It moved onto the next one.

It was an older looking version of the last one it fed from. There was only one body in this bed.

It was a crimson lake when the darkness left. It crawled back to his master. Royal Blood was always better, especially in the name of revenge.

AN: OMG GUYS! You’ve all been so supportive and cool! The follower count is nearly at 230 already!

I can’t thank you all enough!

This piece was written for: @2-bookmaster-2 @aelin-and-feyre @rowanismybae @sparkleywonderful @cassiancalore @igniscorde7112 @illyrian-high-lord @daughterxofxnight @bigsis227 @crazybookladythings @gcarroll @sugarcoated44 @wolffrising @notjustanyoldfangirl @bluephoenix222 @fck-tamlin and @readinglikewildfire

If you have any questions, ideas, prompts, requests, asks or just want a lil chat jump into my inbox, leave a comment or ask me something! I love getting to know everyone.

Much love and many thanks!

-El.

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acourtofquestions · 4 months ago

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Just sped read two chapters (I’ll have to update on later) but imma be honest people: I am on chapter 61 (or I guess it’s the next one I read? Idk words🤦‍♀️) and I am feeling very real fear right about now👀🫥😬😅 like I got a few pages in & was like; mmm… yeah… no…this is gonna keep me up finishing this book (and I cannot be drowsy working tomorrow)… but like… Rowan is sneaking out… and it’s stupid Maeve (I really do hate her and she’s only been in like 2 chapters and I am so over her)… and it’s worse cause I KNEW IT the second Elide was like “Lorcan’s restless” I was like ITS MAEVE PROXIMITY but ANSEL JUST GAVE ME HOPE! and Lysaedion😊🥹 & Manorian😉😂 are being allllll cute! And then Rowaelin because ROWAN IS HAPPY😭 for once in 2 centuries this man is smiling & SJM has the nerve to say “the spark went out” (writing this like she isn’t the genius author that created everything and is instead some random opinion😂) and now I’m scared because they’re all toooooo happy???… like oh yeah we’re kinda happy — until… idk… I DONT KNOW WHAT IT IS; she just left me on THAT… THATS THE PROBLEM & fuck fuck fuck this CANNOT end well😅😅 but Dorian said Asterins alive? BUT WHERE IS ABRAXOS? And everyone’s been warning me & I am STILL NOT ready at all in the slightest… UGHHHHWHHHHHYYYYYY (they deserve an ACOFAS style fluff book after this😭) and I guess I just need to schedule finishing this book and reading all of tower of dawn cause I can’t with these cliffhangers anymore😅😅

#quick typed long ramble of reading update fangirl nonsense cause the feels #first read #currently reading #next chapter #Chapter 61 #EoS #Empire of Storms #Empire of Storms spoilers #no spoilers please #fangirl problems #don’t hurt my babies #SARAH WHERE IS THIS GOING #very real kinda fandom fear here #ROWAN DONT LEAVE #AELIN WHAT DID U SAY WAS IT NAMELESS WAS IT A FIRE GOING OUT HOF STYLE ARE YOU MESSING WITH ME #ELIDE WHOS TALKING TO YOU #ANSEL COULD YOU BE MORE GLORIOUS #DORIAN HOW ARE YOU JUST HOW ARE YOU BUT LIKE HOW DO YOU EXIST CAUSE WOW JUST HOW #MAEVE GO BURN YOURSELF UP IN ELLYWE OR FALL IN THE OCEAN OR SOMETHING PLEASE #FENRYS WHAT DID THAT MEAN #WHERE IS GAVRIEL #WHAT IS AELIN PLANNING #IF SHE HAS NO PLAN I PANIC #ITS GONNA HURT ME AND I JUST KNOW IT #ON THIS HILL PROCRASTINATING #HERE WE GO AGAIN #AT LEAST TOD HAS YRENE #I MISS THEM #AGH #headesk all caps keyboard smash except I didn’t type this in caps lol

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thefantasybooksquad · 7 years ago

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The Empire of Everything

The Empire of Storms by Sarah J Maas

Summary

Aelin, Rowan, Aedion, and Lysandra have traveled to a secret meeting area of Aedion’s, to meet with a few of the Lords of Terrasen who have decided that Aelin's court is a disgrace and will not accept her as their queen and if she tries it will be an act of war. Shortly after Rowan is sent to get Dorian from Rifthold where the witches are attacking. Dorian is found by Rowan in one piece along with Manon who is letting them escape. Once back at Morath Asterin is sentenced to death for Manon's mistakes but Manon betrays her clan and attacks her grandmother then flies away

Rowan and Dorian meet up with Rolfe who has Gavriel and Fenris with him and they explain they were sent by Maeve to kill Lorcan and she is also sailing to Ellywe. Aelin arrives later, in full swagger mode, Rolfe tells the Fae to kill her to get in his good graces. She tells him if he joins her army she will make him Lord of the pirates. A warning bell sounds. Rolfe looks at the maps on his hands, showing the Valg are approaching. He finally agrees to Aelin’s plan. When the battle is over and the group is assembled together, Elena appears to them. She tells them the lock is in the center of a temple in a marsh. They take off on a ship, headed for the marsh. They see Manon riding toward them on Abraxos. She is unconscious and falls off the wyvern and into the sea.

Elide and Lorcan join forces both hoping to find information on Aelin and Morath. They are performing now, fortune telling and sword play. Lorcan’s display is much more popular. They both realize they are attracted to the other.Demons attack their camp looking for Elide. They tell Lorcan her real name. He tells the demon she’s not there. He confronts Elide after the fight is over. They share some truths about their backgrounds. Something triggers Lorcan, and he examines the amulet Aelin gave him. He realizes it’s a fake and roars in anger. He steers the ship towards Ellywe, where they finally find them, in the Marsh.

Aelin opens the chest, inside an ancient mirrors with the eye of Elena on the corner. The Fae males carry the mirror between them. Everyone is exhausted. When they return to the coast, they see 100 ships, Melisande’s fleet. Soldiers are already on shore. Aelin surprises everyone by striding directly toward them. The leader of the troops is Ansel of Briarcliff, who Aelin met years ago in the desert. Ansel brought these ships and warriors at Aelin’s request to repay the life debt she owes her. They will all sail north tomorrow to protect Terrasen. Ansel says it’s Maeve, not Erawan, who had been setting the fires, trying to make it look like it’s Aelin. Another armada is headed toward them, It’s Maeve. They know she will wait for daylight to ask for Aelin’s surrender so everyone can witness it. After Aelin is asleep, Rowan flies to many of Maeve’s ships one by one to make a request of his cousins aboard. They will each consider it.

Dorian takes Aelin and Manon down to the mirror stowed below deck to show them something. He thinks Deanna’s riddle about it suggests that Aelin and Manon can use it to see the future, and determine how to defeat Maeve, and use the keys. The two join hands, press them to the mirror, and disappear. Aedion is furious, Rowan says they’ll continue to ready for battle. Aelin and Manon are in the past, seeing Gavin and Elena. They say that Malla’s bloodline must bleed again and use Malla’s gifts to forge the lock again, with Elena leading them. They will have to give every drop of their life force to do it, to send them home and eternally seal the lock between the worlds.

The battle ensues. Lysandra fights in her modified sea dragon form, attacking the ships marked by Rowan. Lorcan notices Maeve isn’t among her ships. He sees her ashore, near where he left Elide.

To find out what happens next you will need to read the book ;)

Review

Sarah J. Maas is once again put on a pedestal for all to look at as she gives us this book that is a masterpiece. I loved reading this book every time I open it I just get so excited knowing everything that is about to go down and I seem to find something new every time. Not only do we get the full Celaena swagger that we have grown to love we also get, sweet Dorian, Moody Lysandra and Aedion, the lovely Elide, and of course so much more. This book has taken all the other books and has brought them all together into one great overwhelming event that will have you thinking how can it get any better.

The characters in this book are some that I have grown so attached to in such a short time, Lysandra was just brought to us in the last book and yet I find her to be a very key apart in holding the group together. She seems to be the backbone and the go between when things get rough between Aedion and Aelin, she seems to always know what to do or say to make Aedion feel better about himself or just be there for him. Aedion seems still a little lost to me like he wants to be Aelin's right hand but she still keeps him at a distance and Lysandra seems to fill that hole never letting him second guess his worth. Elide! God Elide I think she is my most favorite character in this entire book, this girl has been through so much pain and heartbreak, but yet she still has the heart to go out and trust people and find hope in the world, she hunts for a queen who she doesn't even know is alive she is just going off rumors but yet she still lets herself believe fully that there is no chance she is dead. She even find good in Lorcan which I feel for also he goes out of his way to help Elide and starts to fall for her. He make her TAMPONS for god sacks like what man would do that. He is in so deep and he doesn't even notice but when she tells him she hates him I can only imagine the pain he must feel. The other characters in this book seem to all grow as a person each and everyone not a single one of them is static and boring, they all have ever changing developments that just make us fall in love with them more.

The plot of this book is on point all the time we never stray from the end goal While reading I felt like I was watching a movie not just reading a book I was so sucked into the action when Lys got hurt and Aedion was there for her I felt it my heart sink and the sadness seep in when he thought she was dead, or the fight between Manon and her grandmother I wanted so bad for Manon to put her nails through her face. God I really hate that old woman. You just get so invested when you read this book its like im actually in the book with them.

The ending was so Sarah J. Maas and we are left with the cliffhanger of all cliffhangers like I cannot wait till Tower of Dawn! I think I want this book more than I wanted A court of Wings and Ruin.

This book keeps you in it and on the edge of your seat dying for the next book to come out I recommend this book, if you liked the rest of this series then you are going to LOVE this book.

#sarah j maas #sarahjmass #empire of storms #throne of glass #aelin ashryver #rowan whitethorn #aedion ashryver #lysandra #book review #literature #book #Book Recommendations #bookworm #books and libraries

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feyre-archerons-scrapbook · 8 years ago

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A Taste of Darkness - a Manorian fic

A long, angsty Manorian fic. This takes place after Empire of Storms, so this is your spoiler warning.

I’ve absolutely loved writing this! I’m such Manorian trash, I couldn’t stop writing them. Thank you to the wonderful @rhysand-vs-tamlin / @pretendthisiswitty for being my beta, you’re a star.

Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Find me on AO3

Dorian Havilliard was exhausted.

A week had passed since the events on the sand dunes of Ellywe; since Aelin, since his friend, had been whipped and broken all over again, and entombed inside an iron coffin. There had hardly been a moment to let those events sink in, before he had set off on the backs of the wyverns with the Thirteen, heading north towards the Wastes. Now, sheltered inside a rundown castle on the edge of the former witch kingdom, those thirteen witches stood shoulder to shoulder with him around a large circular table.

They’d been talking and strategizing for three solid days, morning and night, trying to decide how best to take back their lands, and help Terrasen, Aelin, Rowan…and Dorian himself. There was so much to do. But now he wanted, no, needed sleep.

He shifted his weight and stifled a yawn.

The past few months had been a blur. There had been no time to think about how his life had gone so spectacularly off course; the foolish guilt over his father’s death, Sorcha, Chaol’s injuries…

The Valg prince that had hijacked his body and run riot, torturing, killing, and revelling in it all. His fingertips drifted unconsciously towards the scar around his neck, a permanent reminder of the horrors.

But then she caught his eye. Manon Blackbeak, with her irises of gold and hair of brightest white, smirked at him from across the heavy slab of weathered oak. A tiny hint of a smirk, unnoticed by her clan, meant for his eyes only. Manon Blackbeak…his witchling. She held his focus, her eyes piercing his soul as he dropped his hand. His heart pounded. He was alive.

A spark of terrifying electricity had hit him the first time they had met. Back when he was a slave inside his own body. She – this witch – had possessed in her the kind of power that made the blackness inside him cower and tremble in her wake. And when the path was clear, all he could think about in that brief meeting was how much he’d never been with one of her kind. Manon Blackbeak. Created from ancient blood, possessing such strength, appearing to offer him nothing in the way of comfort, only a body to do with whatever he pleased…

Asterin Blackbeak said something beside her, and both Manon’s and Dorian’s focus were drawn away. The golden-haired witch pounded a fist on the table and spoke rousingly about something or other. He didn’t know. He didn’t much care either, right now. He wanted to get out of here. He needed to sleep and clear his head.

But his eyes drifted back to the leader, just as her red lips parted and she responded to her Second, to her Thirteen.

He wanted her. He watched as she drummed her fingertips on the table, and he saw a flash of those iron nails. The power she wielded thrilled him. That same power that she so willingly yielded to him. He wanted to run his hands all over her. His hands that dripped magic; ice, fire, anything he desired. But he desired nothing but the witch. He wanted to touch every inch of her bare skin, wanted to be pressed against her, be as close as could be, when she gasped his name.

He had to get out of here.

He sent an icy breeze across the table towards her, rippling her hair just enough to give the impression of a natural occurrence, and her focus was pulled right to him.

He arched an eyebrow and whispered through his raw magic, I’ve had enough for this evening.

She folded her arms and dropped her weight to one hip. A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. She could hear him.

I’m going to my room, and if you’re not there before the candles have burned out, he leaned forward, placing both hands on the table and sending plumes of magic towards her, I’ll be one very disappointed king.

She blinked slowly, and he could’ve sworn she sent flutters of gold back to him as he withdrew the magic.

With that, he pushed away from the table and began walking round the diameter of the circle, passing behind the backs of the gathered witches. He didn’t even notice when all conversation stopped, as he approached Manon and leaned in, his hand landing on the small of her back. As twelve pairs of eyes turned to him.

He ran a finger slowly up her arm, from elbow to shoulder, the ice tickling her skin. Then let go.

She didn’t move, didn’t speak. Nothing, just stared right ahead.

He looked at her face, her profile, studying her. After a second, her throat bobbed, and he felt her take in a breath; desperate, yet restrained, unnoticed by anyone else. A wicked smile curled one side of his lips, and then he was gone.

All eyes were on her now, on what they’d just witnessed. What they could smell in the room.

Sorrel tipped her head to one side, pondering whether she should say something, but a tight cough broke the silence instead, and Asterin gave her cousin a small nudge with her elbow. “Anyway. As I was saying…”

An hour or two later - after she deemed the meeting over - Manon found herself walking down a dimly lit hallway of the castle, running her iron nails along the dry, dusty stone wall. The noise rippled around her, reminding her of the sound her armour had made on the blacksmiths whetstone in Morath. That hellhole, where she had unwittingly helped Perrington – Erawan – in his evil pursuits. Where the Yellowlegs clan had been violated and discarded. Where Elide Lochan had come dangerously close to being brutalised.

Where she had fought her own grandmother, and fled for her life.

A shiver ran down her spine.

She retracted her nails, and continued her journey in silence. The castle, which had once been a stronghold of a fearsome witch, was dark and cold, but still had enough flourishes of decoration and luxury about it to make it feel quite impressive. Gold torch holders dotted the walls; their elaborate branches now coated in spider webs and grime. Manon sighed, staring up at a faded painting of the once proud owner. This place had belonged to one of her ancestors, somewhere down the line. She looked a little similar; same hair, small flecks of gold embellishing her eyes. She felt a swell of pride, determination. She must return the witch kingdom to prosperity.

The door to the room Dorian had claimed when they arrived was closed, with only a faint strip of light slicing through the darkness at the bottom. She grasped the handle, its cold black iron sending a chill up her arm. She pressed her forehead lightly against the wood, and breathed. Waited.

She hadn’t intended on coming to this door. After the boy kings little display of power in front of her clan, she’d wanted to disappoint him, wanted to have him go to bed sulking that his lover wasn’t going to indulge him tonight. But here she was, unable to fight the pull of this man.

She entered the room.

It was big, yet warm, inviting, and filled with grand furniture and paintings of more witches who looked proud, almost regal in their elaborately decorated cloaks. Dust sheets were pooled on the floor below; Dorian must have torn them down when he entered. The candles, which were a mere couple of inches away from burning out, illuminated the space, the bed. The empty bed. She frowned.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up,” came a voice from behind her.

She smirked and turned slowly, just as Dorian pushed the door closed from his place behind it, his strong hands sending whispers of ice along the wood grain. The door clicked and he turned the key in the lock, his sapphire eyes holding hers.

“Hello, princeling,” she said slowly, licking her lips.

“Hello, witchling,” he replied with such a deep, guttural voice, her knees nearly gave way beneath her. “Shall we talk first, or…?”

“I guess that depends.”

“On what?”

“On how badly you want me.”

He snarled, and curled his lip. Goosebumps rose all over her body. He stood in semi-darkness at the door, his black hair shining as it caught the flickering candlelight, but he didn’t move. He didn’t need to. With just a look, his magic unclasped her red cloak, sending it billowing to the floor.

She glanced over her shoulder and snorted, “That it?”

“Oh, I’m just getting started, witch.”

Her body tingled at his words. “I do hope you’re not all talk, prince,” she taunted him, “I don’t like to be left unsatisfied.” She licked her lips again and ran her thumb back and forth across her fingertips, “Otherwise I’ll just have to take care of myself.” She went to move her hand to the waistband of her trousers, but before she could touch it, an invisible force grasped her wrist. Her eyes flicked back to her paramour.

Dorian stalked towards her, his magic hands slowly lowering her arm to her side and keeping the other in place, too, and stopped in front of her. “I decide when, and how you are satisfied.” He inhaled her scent, his breath shuddering at the enticing aroma. “So the question is really; how badly do you want me?” He lifted her chin, bringing those eyes of vibrant gold to him. “Hmm?”

It wasn’t often that Manon Blackbeak was speechless, but as his cold, biting magic began to entangle her body, she could only gasp a breath. This feeling was so new to her, this feeling of wanting to be touched by him, to give herself completely to him. His piercing eyes studied every curve of her face, as his magic gripped tighter.

“Dor-”

“Tell me,” he breathed.

“I…I.”

He bit his lower lip, taking his time to drag it away from his teeth. He could feel her heart pounding against him, feel her body warming. Her lips parted ever so slightly, and before she could say anything else, he covered them with his own. The kiss was needy, desperate, like neither of them had ever really felt a kiss before. She certainly hadn’t, not like this. Tiny snowflakes of his magic seemed to manifest against her skin as his tongue savoured hers. He pulled away, and looked at her once more. “How badly do you want me to do that again?”

She closed her eyes for a moment and nodded, “Very badly.”

He obliged, kissing her deeply. When they parted, his hand fell against her cheek, and he sighed as she relaxed into his touch, turning her face into his palm. His other hand began exploring her body, running along her arm and down her exposed neck. A bead of sweat ran down it, and he leaned in, nuzzling into it and placing kisses slowly…so damn achingly slowly, against her skin.

She tilted her head back just as a groan escaped her lips, and he dropped both hands onto her waist, gripping tightly. His kisses moved to the other side of her neck, and his touch slid up to her breasts.

The sound that resonated from her mouth was feral, wild…unexpected. He laughed against her skin and crawled his fingers up to the edge of her white shirt, pulling it down to truly expose her beautiful, otherworldly skin. He ran his tongue along the top of her cleavage and whispered, “Should I continue?”

“Yes,” she gasped, as he clutched both sides of the shirt in his fists and ripped it clean apart. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

He took her breasts in his hands and squeezed just enough. “Yes, please…” Another firm, but pleasurable squeeze. “Dorian.”

That was it. He moaned with his own pent up desire and rolled his neck, releasing the magical restraints just as he grasped her backside and lifted her off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist as their lips met in a clash of ice and iron, lust and yearning. Her hands ran all over his face and into his hair, as they explored each other’s mouths, and he walked them over to the bed.

He threw her down, and for a split second, a small part of him wondered if that was too much, too aggressive, but she purred with absolute want, her gold eyes sparkling at him as he stood above her, lit by candlelight. He grinned and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Allow me?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

He thought for a moment, then nodded once.

She pushed herself up to reach him and extended an iron nail, swiping up his dirtied white shirt and cutting it open. His chest was so well defined, so beautifully tanned. How she had missed him these past few days travelling.

She didn’t have time to think too long about it, before he used his magic to unbuckle and remove her trousers and dropped to his knees. She fell back against the sheets as he ran his hands up the insides of her thighs, and pushed them far apart. He lowered himself down and winked at her, her beautiful smile all the signal he needed to continue. As he began to taste her, the world ceased to exist.

Bands of morning sunlight warmed the sheets that covered their bare skin, gently awakening them in the hazy surroundings of the bedroom.

Dorian was the first to open his eyes, and as he shifted a little to loosen his muscles, Manon’s sleepy hold across his chest tensed. He smiled and lightly pushed a strand of hair away from her face. Her skin was flawless, and almost unnaturally white, as if not a single ray of sunshine had ever caressed it.

He had never seen any human woman look as peaceful as the witch did right now. The witch with the iron teeth and claws. He blushed, remembering how those teeth had left faint scratches against his neck. He began to raise his hand to the marks, but she stirred, pulling his focus.

“Good morning,” she sighed, opening one eye.

“It certainly is,” he replied with a smile, and watched as she sat up. “Sleep well?”

“Mmhm.” She stretched a little and threw a side-eyed smirked at him, “And you were sleeping like the dead, prince.”

He dropped his head and laughed, “What can I say? I was worn out.”

She joined in the laughter until it faded away, leaving them staring at each other as the morning chorus of birdsong filled the quiet. Her eyes drifted down to his neck, before quickly returning to his face. His features were soft, his blue-black hair ruffled and spiked in places. “Dorian,” she breathed, and shuffled a bit closer. He met her halfway and leaned in to share a soft, tender kiss, so unlike their wild, impatient kisses last night. When they parted, she dropped a hand on his firm chest and slowly, delicately dragged her nails down the bare skin.

The iron claws barely appeared behind her nails, scarcely grazed his skin. He held back a groan of pleasure and took hold of her hand. “Show me.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“I want to see the power you hold in your fingertips.”

Those sapphire eyes were pleading, as he moved his grip to hold her lightly by the wrist. She conceded, extending her hand and fanning her fingers out as the iron claws slowly protruded from them. The sunlight caught the long, fine metal talons, the glint dazzling them both.

He studied them, in awe of their strength, and the fear they awakened in humans…in himself. He was pensive as he spoke, “Incredible, so incredible. And the teeth…will you show me those, too?”

“Dorian, I -”

“You did last night.”

“That was different.”

“Why? Hearing your whisper my name, scream it in those final moments, through those iron teeth…I can’t begin to describe how that felt-”

“I did that so you would remember who you are,” she interrupted, her voice clipped, emotionless. She sat up, her back going rigid. “So you would remember that you are Dorian Havilliard.”

“What?” he scowled, and pushed himself up against the headboard. “I don’t understand. I know who I am.”

“When I said your name, I could feel it’s effect all over you.” Dorian’s confusion was written all over his face. She twisted round to face him fully, crossing her legs beneath the sheets. “When we’re close, when my iron is against your skin, the thing inside you backs away, afraid.”

“But…but it’s not there anymore, Manon, I -”

She pointed at his neck, her claw still visible. “That collar says otherwise.”

Without thinking, and thoroughly expecting to find nothing but bruised skin, he lifted his hand to his neck. His fingers shuddered at the cold stone that greeted him, almost throbbing with its dark power.

Dorian’s entire world began to twist out of shape.

“No,” he gasped, tapping his fingers along the stone, disbelieving, “Manon, I broke this…I broke it.”

“What are you talking about?” she frowned, “It’s been there all the time I’ve known you.”

“No, no, it hasn’t!” he winced, wrapping his fingers around the stone and trying to wrench it off. “Chaol and Celaen…Aelin…they…” He sucked in air through his teeth, his fingers struggling to maintain a grip on the smooth surface. “It broke and I killed my father.”

“Your father?” Manon echoed, “What are -” Words failed her and all the witch could do was watch through tired eyes, shaking her head as Dorian tried and tried and tried to free himself from the inky black shackle around his neck. All she could do was watch as he shifted to his knees on the bed, his naked body tense with worry, with frustration, and confusion. He clawed and clawed at the collar, leaving red scratches against his neck far worse than what she had ever done.

And all the while, he whimpered.

It was possibly the worst sound Manon Blackbeak had ever heard in her one hundred and sixteen years of life. He whined in desperation to be free, as if he had experienced the relief of his freedom from the blackness inside and was fighting to get it back. Tears ran down his cheeks, tears of sadness and confusion…of pain as he tried to force down a lump that was now lodged in his throat, now held back by the tight Wyrdstone collar.

“I don’t u…understand,” he stuttered, still refusing to give in. His knuckles were now white, his fingers bleeding.

She didn’t know why he was suddenly acting like this; nothing had changed. That collar had been around his neck since before they’d met, and her presence provided him with relief, a break from the torment. “Let me…” she said, trying to cover his hands, hopeful of maybe prising the collar off with her iron claws.

“No! Get away from it!” he snapped, knocking her hand away and leaping from the bed.

“Dorian,” she said as calmly as she could manage in her shock at his reaction. She pressed a hand against her chest and felt the quickening beat of her heart. That was an unusual feeling, to say the least. “I don’t think it’s coming off.”

He wasn’t listening, he was too busy searching for his trousers. And that’s when he realised; gone were the old dusty walls of the weathered castle, along with the grand furniture and paintings of his lover’s ancestors. Gone were the sandy-coloured dust sheets that littered the floor. All he could see around him were piles and piles of books. Books everywhere; on the desk, under clothes, huge stacks of them on the floor. His hands went up into his hair as he blinked and spotted The Walking Dead on top of a heap. “No! No! No!” he cried. He was in his castle chambers in Rifthold. He peered out of the nearest window. The glass castle shone bright in the morning sun. “I demolished it! I razed it to the damn ground!”

Manon frowned, then grabbed the sheet and scrambled off the bed, tying the material around her as she began to walk towards him, but he held up a hand, halting her in her tracks.

“Don’t,” he said, his eyes wide, “Stay back.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” she scoffed and threw her hand behind her towards the untidy bed, “We had sex last night, Dorian, it was acceptable for us to be close then!” She moved a step closer, and he moved a step back.

“Manon, I mean it,” he growled, “I don’t know how much longer this thing inside me will stay down, or how the hell I ended up back here, but until I get this damn collar off I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

At that moment, a sharp pain hit him right in the stomach, dropping him to his knees.

“Mother,” the witch gasped, as she reached forward to aid him. “Dorian!”

A strange shrieking noise escaped the prince’s lips, and he grabbed at his body, as if trying to hold back the monster within. It pounded and pounded against the inside of him, demanding to be let out. Manon looked on in horror as blackness swelled under her lover’s tanned skin like a creature swimming below ice, and leeched across his chest and around his heart. His blood vessels were suddenly stained black, his skin draining of all that beautiful colour.

“Dorian…” she said, her voice breaking. She wasn’t used to this feeling of helplessness.

He lifted his eyes to her. The sapphire was disappearing, the darkness taking over every inch of him. “Leave…” he gasped through the pain, “Get away from me…from it.”

“No. If anything, I am the one who can keep that at bay…” She swallowed her emotions and took one more defiant step forward, “Or have you forgotten, princeling?”

For a moment, the pain and the screaming stopped, and the vivid blue of Dorian’s eyes returned, piercing her soul. “I’m sorry I’m not strong e…enough.”

“No…” Manon whispered, sharp, salty tears stinging her eyes, “Do not say that.”

“I’m sorry, my dar…my darling witchli-” His words were replaced by horrific screams as the blackness finally won the battle. Excruciating pain shot through his body, arching his back and burning out the colour in his eyes once and for all. He screamed louder and louder, his fingers convulsing before the evil lurched him forward onto his hands and knees, gasping desperately for air. He pounded his fists on the wooden floor, making the ground shudder.

Then silence. Stillness.

Manon listened for a breath, watched for movement. The next thirty seconds or so were unbearable. Then he twitched, and began to move.

“I won’t leave you, Dorian Havilliard,” she said, defiantly, as he lifted his head to her. “Dorian, crown prince of Adarlan, stubborn bastard…” She looked into his eyes, and had to hold herself back from gaping. It was like staring at a night sky where all the stars had been cruelly stolen; empty…void of life.

A wicked laugh bubbled up from deep inside him…inside it. It laughed at the sadness written across her face, at her hands that now shook in the presence of the demon prince at her feet. “Get out, before I make you regret it, witch,” the darkness sneered.

“No.”

Slowly it rose to its feet, unconcerned with its nakedness, and stalked towards her, looking her up and down. Its muscular frame towered over her. “You dare to defy me, as you stand there wearing nothing but my sheets?”

“They’re not yours,” she hissed.

That laugh rumbled again, sending tremors through her entire body. She glanced down. She’d never allowed herself to be this vulnerable in front of a man. Dorian had been the exception, but this wasn’t Dorian before her, not now.

“Go. Take your rusty claws and get out of my castle.”

“I will not leave him,” she replied, clutching the sheet tighter in her hands.

“Your prince is dead, my dear. But very well, if you insist on staying,” the deep, sinister voice said. “Perhaps I could make you my companion, instead?” it asked, and stroked the back of its finger sensually down her cheek.

For a brief moment she found herself swept away by Dorian’s touch; warm against her skin, but prickling with ice beneath. Then she stopped. She smacked the cold hand away and glared at the Valg prince with her eyes of gold. She could’ve sworn it moved back an inch. “I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than see them as black as yours.”

“Oh, Manon, Manon, Manon,” it tutted, “That would be such a waste.” It pouted in mock sadness before turning and walking away from her.

With its back to her, she took the opportunity to scan the room for her clothes, spotting them on the floor at the foot of the bed. Her eyes remained locked on the demon prince as she inched towards them, and slowly reached down to pick them up.

The demon was now thumbing through one or two of Dorian’s copious amount of books, its sneers of contempt loud and obnoxious to Manon’s ears. Who the hell did this thing think it was? Death, that’s what. Her heart ached; she wanted her princeling back. How had the Valg managed to seize control of Dorian’s entire being, when she had been so close? The blackness inside him had curled up into a tiny ball, getting as far away from her as it could manage when she’d approached Dorian in Oakwald Forest. But now…

She threw on her shirt and trousers as quickly as she could, praying to the three-faced goddess that the Valg wouldn’t turn around and see her half-dressed. She needed to feel strong in its presence, keep the upper hand, and being naked encouraged its black, lifeless gaze to drift south. She wasn’t going to be anybody’s plaything.

It turned around just as she fastened the clasp of her red cloak, and gave her another full-body scan. “No more fun, then?”

“You wish,” she folded her arms, “But give Dorian back to me and that’s a different story.”

It laughed under its breath, and scooped up its host’s trousers, stepping into them slowly, suggestively. “I don’t know why you care so much about him, truth be told.” Its voice seemed deeper suddenly, echoing around the room, even though it wasn’t shouting.

Was it because she was now a good twenty feet away?

“He was weak,” the demon sneered, picking up another book and glancing at the cover. “He was soft, and kind, and a disappointment to his father.”

“And you, meanwhile, are a bad little demon prince, right?”

“I am everything he is not.”

“You got that right,” the witch smirked, and planted her feet firmly on the floor.

“And I’m everything he once was, too. I have his memories,” it smiled…and the voice changed, the echo stopping. It sounded like Dorian was back in the room. “Fat lot of good they do me though, really. Who honestly cares about the crown prince? Hmm? Where are all his friends when he needs them? Where’s Celaena…” It was as if he was mocking himself, “Or Chaol? Or Sorscha?”

Manon’s lip twitched. She’d heard that name before.

Dorian…no, the Valg, grinned at her, and began walking towards her. Its long, slender fingertips – fingertips that had caressed her skin only a few hours before – brushed along the tops of the book piles, running lines through the dust. Then it knocked one off. And another. And another. Its pace quickened, and then it was right in front of her, breathing in her expelled air. That sensual voice of her lover was barely a whisper, “All I care about is…you.”

“Oh shut up,” she groaned, and twisted to turn away.

It grabbed her, its fingers digging into her arms as it turned her back to face it. “Do you know why you’re here, Manon Blackbeak?”

She licked her lips and shirked him off, “Because Dorian asked me to come.”

It shook its head, the demon voice returning with an ice-cold edge, “No… I asked you to come.” It pointed to the window, “Just like I have done each and every time you’ve flown your runt of a wyvern to this tower and tapped on that glass. You saw Dorian open the window for you, let you in…kiss you, but no, it was by my instruction.”

“You’re lying,” she breathed, her focus darting all over that face she had studied in minute detail. The face that now looked like death reanimated.

“You wish,” the demon winked at her, those black eyes sucking the warmth from the room.

Mother, how she wished it were Dorian winking at her, instead. Her heart fluttered.

“I’ve been waiting, observing…learning all about you. All about that blood of yours that made me tremble like a frightened child, in the forest that fateful night. Each and every time you and your precious prince were together, naked and vulnerable, I stole a piece of your power, your strength. I took what was invisible and shaped it into my own might. And now, witch…” It leaned in close, so close, its mouth stopping beside her ear. “Now you have no effect on me, whatsoever.”

She felt her skin crawl. A ripple of night and despair came over her. How? How could this possibly have happened? Her desire for Dorian; her belief that she could keep him free of the darkness by being with him, loving him…it had all played right into the hands of the evil that taunted her now.

The demon prince ran its fingertips along her neck and gently moved her long moon-white hair out the way. Those black eyes watched her frown, watched it deepen as the revelation sank in. Then slowly, it leaned in further until its lips were pressed against the skin below her ear, and kissed her. Its other hand gripped her neck at the other side, holding her still as it claimed the weak prince’s love as its own. “We could rule this world, if you let me in,” it breathed against her skin, its voice impossibly deep and unnatural, “Together, we would be unstoppable.”

It kissed her again, this time on her jaw, then her cheek, then the edge of her mouth, each time slower, and more consuming than the last.

The demon expected her to resist, but she was still trying to comprehend what had happened; the hope she’d had when Dorian was above her, loving her, and she couldn’t help but steal glances at that collar. Hope. She had felt so confidence that her presence, her love would keep Dorian safely within his own body; keep him holding on, like a firm grip preventing him from falling over a cliff edge.

“Manon,” said the voice of her lover.

She lifted her golden eyes to his. Sapphire shone brightly. “D…Dorian?”

He smiled and immediately pressed his lips against hers, their eyes falling shut. His tongue brushed across the crease of her lips, and before she could think about it, she was allowing him in, opening her mouth to him. His arms slipped down her back, pulling her in closer as their kiss heated up, as he began to tug at her clothes.

Her breathing came in short gasps when they parted, his kiss falling onto her neck. She ran her fingers through his thick dark hair, and dropped her head back as he pressed firmly against her. He growled softly and moved to nibble her ear, and she opened her eyes…

Darkness. A rush of black swept into her golden irises, filling her world with sorrow. She blinked. It was gone.

He growled again; a low, hungry noise, his hands pulling at the waistband of her trousers.

She gasped and pushed his shoulders with all her might. He stumbled back a step, panting…grinning. Those empty eyes had returned. “You bastard.” She flung her hand out, extending her iron claws in an instant, and swiped for its jugular.

The Valg prince grabbed her wrist mere inches from certain death, and squeezed hard. “I guess neither of us are going to get what we want, today.” She struggled against its grip and it laughed, “And the more time I spend with you here…the more I’m getting tired of you, witch.”

She yanked her arm again, desperate to free herself, but that grip was solid. “Let go of me, and I’ll get out of your way, then,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, I think we’re past that, now.” It tugged her closer so their noses almost touched, and hissed, “But I know someone who’d like to meet you.”

Her stomach dropped. “Dorian,” she said, as the demon spun her around and wrestled hold of both her arms, “Dorian, if you’re still in there somewhere, I’m sorry. I tried.” It shoved her and she lurched forwards, wincing at the might of its grip. “I tried.”

“You can call his name as many times as you want, but he won’t remember it, or you. He is gone, and I am growing stronger by the minute.” It pushed her again and they left the room.

The journey through the glass castle was long, winding, and very confusing. The castle was like a maze to an outsider, but the demon prince seemed to know where he was going.

Flickers of light dipped in and out of the shadows within the prince’s body. The body that was now fully controlled by the darkness. He could hear a woman calling a name; was it his name? He didn’t know. She sounded distressed, maybe even in pain. He wanted to reach through the black and take hold of her hand, console her, but the demon kept him pressed against the very edge of existence, it’s invisible grip tight around his neck. His neck. Visions of scratching at black stone appeared somewhere in his memory. The feeling of bleeding fingers, the sound of whimpering…his whimpering.

He wrapped his strength around the demon’s hold, trying to prise it off his throat. He could still hear the woman saying that name, over and over and over again. He…no, the darkness, slapped her hard on the side of her face and screamed for her to be quiet. His entire being throbbed with the shockwave. The woman fell silent, and the sound of shuffling feet on an echoing stone floor resonated. Then that sound turned hollow…as if walking on glass.

The woman – the witch, as his captor kept calling her – was strong, defiant. The demon had to push with all it’s might to keep her moving, keep her hands in its grasp. The flash of iron as she’d tried to kill it had been a welcome sight. If he was to remain a prisoner in his own body, he would rather die than have others perish by his hand. He’d choke the life out of himself if he had to, just for it to be over.

The Valg prince approached the red glass double doors of the throne room, elbowing Manon to keep going forward, and nodded to the black-eyed guards standing eerily still on either side. Without hesitation, they opened the doors, and stood back to let them through. They stared at the prince, barefoot and bare-chested, and Manon noticed them wince with pain when she got close. It was written all over their faces.

The throne room was vast, and maybe even breath-taking if she were being honest. A deep red carpet extended the full length of the space, between highly decorated glass columns that diffused the bright sunlight that burst in through the glass walls; the city beyond creating a living, breathing mural. It was a view from which to scoff at those unfortunate enough to be born poor, or those who liked to pretend they shared the same social standing as their king. Idiots.

More soulless guards stood at regular intervals between the columns and along the edges of the room. The King of Adarlan sat squinting at the approaching pair from his throne at the far end, his large hands curled over the edges of the arms. He wore polished armour of an intricate, scaled design, with a wyvern standing proud on the breastplate.

“Oh, father!” the Valg sang as they strode down the carpet towards the dais, and the king shifted forward in his seat, “Surprise!”

It shoved Manon with every inch of its strength, sending her hurtling forward until she fell to her hands and knees. The crack of her bones on impact with the hard floor echoed around the cavernous room. She kept her head down for a moment to hide the pain behind her white hair, and her focus fell on the king’s feet. The demon fired some of her lover’s magic at her, the invisible hands snatching hold of her wrists and yanking her arms back behind her, forcing her to sit upright. For a second she could’ve sworn she felt Dorian’s thumb brush across hers.

The king didn’t say a word, but rose from his throne with regal, powerful motion and stepped down off the dais. He stopped in front of her, glanced at the face of his possessed son, then back at her. “Is this the witch my boy has been screwing?”

The Valg prince came to a stop beside her and smirked, “Yes.”

“Manon Blackbeak,” the king said under his breath. She could feel his eyes running all over her. “How often?”

Her skin crawled. Being spoken about like she was a breeding dog made her blood boil.

The interloper shrugged, “Enough.”

“Really…” the king replied, his voice light…impressed. He looked at the bare-chested shadow of his son and nodded, “Good boy, taking as much as he could get before the darkness took over.”

“He certainly played his part well.”

“Indeed. So she doesn’t pose a problem to you anymore?”

“No” the Valg said casually, his eyes slipping across to her and hoping for a reaction. “Her power over me is diminished.”

Silence fell for a moment while the king considered this development. Finally, he spoke again, and stared down at the top of her head, “Are you mute, Blackbeak heir?”

Manon remained silent, pondering whether she should indulge him in conversation. “What do you want me to say, your highness?” she hissed, finally raising her head to look him straight in the eye.

“Well, how about thanking me for allowing you to sneak your oversized lizard to my son’s window night, after night, after night? Hmm?” His eyebrows shot up, above his eyes that were unnaturally black, but not wholly so. Perhaps that was worse than Dorian’s situation.

Now it was her turn to shrug.

“I could’ve had you shot down.”

“And I could gut you like a fish,” she stated, her face impassive, her body steady.

The king laughed under his breath and said to the demon wearing her princeling’s body, “I can see why he liked her -”

“His name is Dorian,” she interrupted. Her heart was pounding, perhaps in warning.

“What did you say?”

“Your son’s name is Dorian!” she yelled. The guards shifted uncomfortably all around them, their swords clinking and betraying their movement. “Dorian Havilliard, crown prince of Adarlan and heir to this godsforsaken place!” She tipped her head to one side. “Or have you forgotten that already?”

The kings lip curled, and then, without warning, he slapped her hard across the face, jolting her head sideways. The force was greater than any Ironteeth punishment she’d ever received, or dished out, and left her entire face sizzling with pain.

“Insolent witch!” he roared as he leaned down and grabbed her hair, jerking her head back to him.

She held back a gasp of pain - not wanting to give him the satisfaction - and breathed in and out through her nose instead, as he pulled her hair again, lifting her face closer.

She glared at him with her golden eyes, then spat out a drop of blue blood on the pristine carpet by his feet, much to his outrage. He didn’t seem to be badly affected by her witch blood, though she felt a throng of his dark power pushing against her.

He tugged on the hair in his grasp once more. “You are nothing more than a serf to me and my kingdom, and yet you dare to speak to me like that, Blackbeak? What would the Matron think?”

She murmured an obscenity and he let go, giving her a swift kick to her ribs and watching as her body went limp. The Valg prince immediately tightened the magical restraints, forcing her upwards until she was as straight as she could be whilst remaining on her knees. She winced with the sharp pains that flooded her body, and licked a drop of blood that had burst from her lip.

“Answer him!” the demon commanded.

“I don’t care what she thinks! And I don’t care about you, your highness, or your cause!” Manon yelled, her attention jumping back and forth between demon father and son, “All I care about is Dorian! The man you encased in that walking tomb!”

“Silence!” The king slapped her harder, on the other side of her face, leaving a long cut on her cheek. He sneered at the sight of the blue blood running down her porcelain skin, and began twisting the black Wyrdstone ring around his finger.

Manon steadied herself with the aid of the invisible hands…hands that suddenly seemed kinder, more gentle around her wrists. She scowled briefly, then returned her face to neutral.

A pulsing sound. A throbbing in his ears…far away, but fast approaching. Stone reacting to stone. It stirred him from slumber, but it wasn’t what kept him there, awake, alive. The witch called that name again…and he knew it. He knew her, too.

The demon that enveloped him, that seeped into every part of him, kept him held down, it’s hand was still around his neck. The crush against him was getting stronger by the second, and he knew he didn’t have much time. But that witch. The monster turned to look at her, laughed at the pain grazed across her face, and stared down those eyes. Gold eyes. Lovers eyes. He didn’t know who he was, or what he had been, but he knew he had adored her, worshipped her…maybe still did, and from the way she spoke to the king, the way she took each strike to her face, it was clear that the feeling was mutual.

He threw himself at the edges of the darkness, launched himself at it with all his might. The end was near for him, and yet he wasn’t ready. There was something that needed to be done, first.

The Valg prince stepped an inch closer to Manon and almost stumbled, reacting like it’d been hit with a ball to the face. It covered its face with its hands and sucked in a breath. The king drew its focus and glowered, but the witch didn’t move, didn’t even look at it.

“What’s wrong?” the king asked.

“Nothing, father,” the demon replied with its unnerving voice, shaking off the strange feeling. He felt her steely gaze and gestured to her with his chin, “What are we going to do with her?”

The king crouched down and clasped her chin, turning her head side to side, observing the bruises that were already beginning to shine on both cheeks, “Well,” he grinned, releasing her and standing up. “I’ve half a mind to send her back to Morath and her merry band of flying spinsters, and let the Blackbeak Matron deal with her -”

Manon’s eyes flitted up to the Valg prince. “Yes, you do that. And I could take him off your hands, too,” she smirked, as another trickle of blood ran down from her lip and dropped off her chin. She was getting desperate for this to end now, her words laced with sarcasm and anger.

“Why do you give a damn about him, Blackbeak?” the king scoffed, arms outstretched, “Why not just leave, run away when you had the chance?“

“I’ll tell you exactly what I told your demon pet…I will not leave without Dorian. He is ten times the man you’ll ever be…or ever were, your highness.” A lick of ice ran down her spine in response. The touch warmed her.

The king scowled, “I thought your kind didn’t concern yourselves with friendship, let alone love? You got what you wanted from my son - a warm body on a cold night – everything else is surely futile to you heartless creatures.”

Right on cue, Manon felt her heart thump violently in her chest. She growled, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts, and dropped her head, “You turn your son into the walking dead, and have the balls to tell me I’m heartless?!”

“Watch your tongue, witch!” the demon prince shouted, and pulled the invisible restraints tighter, tighter, tighter, until her arms began to lose all feeling. “Or I will cut it out.” He turned his body to her and lifted his hand, then began to pinch his thumb and fingers together.

Manon felt the ice snake around her neck immediately, twisting round and round her and squeezing, constricting her breathing. Her eyes bulged as she choked, but they remained fixed on the Valg. His eyes, meanwhile, were full of joy at the witch’s predicament. He squeezed harder.

Her eyes began to roll back in her head, and her already pale skin turned deathly white.

“All right, that’s enough,” the king commanded.

The prince released the binding from her throat and she gasped for breath, coughing and spluttering and tasting a burning sensation deep in her throat. She looked at the demon again. “Y…you bastard.”

“We send her back,” the king boomed, ignoring her, “With the order to execute. The Blackbeak Matron will be very disappointed to lose her clan heir, but more than happy to carry out the sentence.”

“On wh…what charges do you condemn me, your highness?” she sneered between coughs.

The king looked at her, “Failing to follow orders. Trespassing on the sacred ground of your king’s home. And abandoning your clan, to name a few.”

She scoffed, but her stomach dropped. She didn’t want to go back to Morath and face the Matron. She didn’t want to leave this place, knowing that Dorian would forever be trapped inside his own body, held down by a monster, and used for evil. No. She knew what she needed to do, even if it got her killed.

The king cupped his chin in one hand and tapped his finger on his cheek, “Oh, and who can forget sleeping with the crown prince?”

“You’d sentence me to death for that?” she rumbled.

“Others have died for a lot less,” the king smirked, “But mainly, I just don’t like you, witch.”

She curled her lip up and snarled like a wolf.

The demon shook his head, its hands trembling with pent up magic and anger and worry, and blurted, “I’m bored of her, father. Who cares about the crone, this ends now!”

That was the final push. “Do it, then!” she cried though the pain in her throat, turning to the possessed face of her lover, and shoving her shoulders forward, “Finish this, or are you still all talk?”

It pointed a pale finger at her and growled a deep, unnerving sound that made her shiver. “You will die tonight, witch, make no mistake.”

“You take the body of Dorian Havilliard and waste it, demon!” She shook once with incredible anger, released her razor-sharp iron teeth and screamed, “Finish this!!”

It lowered its head to her, reached out to grab her by the collar of her cloak, and screeched. Pain struck it right in the temple. Its head snapped to her and it pulled her close. “Take me with you,” Dorian whispered in her ear, his eyes bright and blue, before he was gone again. The demon jumped backwards and looked at her, incredulous.

Her mouth turned up in a wry smile, and that was it. With the Valg’s attention taken by Dorian’s sudden reappearance, the magic constricting her wrists and distorting her arms slackened off, and she leaped to her feet, claws extending as she broke free of the binds and lashed out at the king’s armoured chest. Iron against iron, sparks flew. She kicked him, mimicking his actions from earlier. The king cried out and stumbled backwards, and the guards rushed over, swords drawn, ready for the fight.

One witch. Twenty guards. No chance.

The first one to reach her ran at full speed, both arms up, ready to strike her down with the sword in its grip. Manon simply lunged forward, and swiped at its throat, stopping it in its tracks. The spray of black blood arced over them both as the guard toppled backwards, grasping at the wound. The stench turned her stomach.

Immediately, she spun around and launched herself at another, this time plunging her claws through its light armour and into its shoulders. It screamed in agony, it’s voice echoing around the room, until she ripped its throat out with her iron teeth. She retracted her claws and let it drop to the floor with a thud, then spat out the lump of flesh and sour-tasting blood.

From all angles the demons came at her, swinging their swords and fighting against their black hearts that cowered in her presence, that begged them to keep away, but they were no competition. She clawed and chewed and spat out each and every one, black and blue blood running down the sides of her mouth, black dripping down her iron nails, giving her a truly terrifying appearance to those still standing.

She moved with such grace, such fluidity, that even the king, who was still sprawled on the stairs, was silently impressed. “Kill her!” he yelled to his men, but hope was fading.

She glanced to her right. The Valg prince wearing her lover’s body was wrestling with the man inside. She knew Dorian was disappearing, that he would soon be gone, but this was his last stand, his final chance to do something. She wasn’t going to let him down.

He thrashed and scratched and pounded the demon with all that he had left, dodging each swirl of evil power. When a tiny crack in the darkness appeared, he concentrated all of his energy on it. It was like standing at the bottom of a dry well, able to hear the voices of the people he loved echoing above him, out of sight, but near; not just the witch, but the blonde-haired woman who had surprised and delighted him when she lived in the castle, and the man who had been his protector, and his best friend since boyhood. Their voices awoke in him the power and strength to keep pushing, keep pounding at the evil that was consuming him.

He shoved at the sliver of light, shouldered it until what was left of his consciousness was aching, bone-tired. Finally, though, he broke through the barrier, and the witch’s voice was loud and defiant, tearing down the possessed guards that he could see clearly through the demon’s eyes…no, his eyes. And his hands, oh heavens, they tingled with such ice cold magic, he felt lightheaded.

Another guard threw himself at Manon, and she slid to the side, allowing him to stumble before she thrust her claws into his side, spun around to leap onto his back and clamped down on his neck with her iron teeth. The claws were withdrawn, then thrust in again, peppering the demon with holes that oozed black stinking blood. His cries were drowned out by the blood that rose up in his throat, and he fell face first onto the red carpet, joining the others in a mass of seeping, revolting black blood.

The king sat with his eyes wide, aghast at the sight of the pile of bodies, and watched as Manon coolly wiped the black and blue blood from her mouth, and smirked at him, “That’s going to leave a stain.”

Anger turned his face fiery red, and the king screamed and launched himself forward, grabbing a sword from his belt and charging at her. “You will pay, bitch!”

Without much effort, she turned and scooped up a sword from one of the dead guards, the hilt dripping with sticky blood, and swung round, meeting the kings charging sword with her own. The clash of metal on metal reverberated, and she couldn’t deny that the king was incredibly strong. They fought hard, evenly matched, it seemed; his strength balanced out by her speed and agility. Left and right, up and down, their swords clashed. Teeth gritted, eyes wide, the king’s black Wyrdstone ring throbbed with vicious, unrelenting anger.

He swiped for her and she leapt over the sword, spinning round to jab her weapon into his exposed side. She didn’t expect to plunge through flesh and bone, but the blood-curdling scream that erupted from the Valg prince’s lips drew the kings focus, and allowed her to skewer him.

The king fell to his knees, gasping for air. She must’ve pierced a lung. His face was one of pure shock, and mild acknowledgement of her skill. Manon pushed the sword in deeper, forcing him to the floor, and let go.

The Valg screamed again, and she whirled round to see it convulsing, icy magic coiling round it.

“Dorian!” she yelled, and ran to him.

It stumbled backwards, arms thrashing, eyes black one moment, vivid sapphire blue the next. Back and forth they went, as an internal battle was fought between the crown prince of Adarlan and the demon prince encased in the collar. It…he…Dorian, scratched at the inky black stone, fingers bleeding once more, bleeding red mixed with black. The image was extraordinary.

“Dorian,” Manon said once more, taking a slow step towards the prince. “Is it you?”

“Manon,” he gasped, throwing himself around like a ragdoll, “It’s winning! The d…darkness is winning!”

She moved closer, her hands outstretched. “What do you want me to do?” she asked. She already knew the answer.

“Kill it. End it now.”

She rolled her lips, and slammed her eyes shut just as a lone teardrop fell down her cheek. “I…I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

Dorian wrestled with the demon, and the swirls of magic began to turn black, like ink dropped into a whirlpool. “Pl…please!” he cried out, “I can’t live like th…this!”

“Don’t!” the king screamed behind her. She turned around to see him pulling himself along the polished floor, streaks of blood trailing him. “Don’t you dare touch him!”

Manon turned back, just in time to shift her head to the side, the demon prince swiping for her. She slipped out of its reach and slid across the floor onto her knees, grabbing up another discarded sword before pushing herself back up off the floor.

The Valg stalked towards her, it’s eyes turning black to blue to black. Dorian was still fighting.

With her entire body trembling with adrenaline and dread, she dove at him…it, screaming until her voice broke, and knocked it onto its back. Its head hit the hard floor and an unnerving harpy-like screech escaped its lips, momentarily deafening her as she landed on top of it, straddling it.

It thrashed and kicked out, its strength depleted, and she hit it in the face with her elbow. The head snapped to one side, and she watched as slowly it turned back to face her.

The eyes. Those sapphire blue irises.

“Dorian?” she breathed. Her hands were shaking, nervous, but she retracted her nails and reached out, brushing her bloodied fingertips across his brow. “Is that you?”

He lifted his hand and gently wrapped it around her wrist, “My darling witchling,” he whispered.

She spluttered a cry of relief and touched his bare chest. It was freezing cold and deathly pale. She extended her nails just enough to scrape gently down from the Wyrdstone collar towards his heart. The blackness in his veins had subsided somewhat, but every beat of his heart pushed the darkness back out again. “Let me get you out of here.”

“No,” he said, squeezing a little tighter on her wrist.

“But Dorian, I can -”

“Manon…I’m not getting out of here.”

“Don’t say that,” she cried. Actually cried. Tears slipped down her long white eyelashes and tumbled down her cheeks, dampening her cloak. She whispered, “Please don’t say that.”

“The darkness has w…won.” He winced and the blackness flashed in his eyes. He concentrated every last drop of his remaining strength to push it back. “And I need this to be over, my darling.”

She rolled her lips as he squeezed again, his thumb brushing up and down the inside of her wrist. “You were never supposed to mean this much to me, you b…bastard,” she stuttered, her eyes catching the twinkling in his, “You and I were supposed to mean nothing to each other.”

“Strange how it works out sometimes, isn’t it?” he smiled.

Oh mother, that smile. She felt her heart melt as throngs of icy magic whirled around her, and tiny snowflakes fell on her skin. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he breathed, and moved his hand to rest it against her heart. “This beats for me, Manon Blackbeak. I know it.”

“Stop being so poetic.”

He laughed softly, and delicately ran his fingertips down her chest, entwining them in her half-buttoned shirt. She went to cover his hand, but he recoiled, his fingers cramping up as the black seeped into him. “End it, and get away from here.”

She shook her head, tears still falling. “No, I can’t leave you. I won’t.”

“Manon,” he said, his voice stern, commanding. “End it. Please.”

She wiped her at her tears and tugged her eyes away from him. She reached out to her side and crawled her fingers along the floor to pick up a silver sword. Her hands shook violently as she took the hilt in both hands and stared at it.

Dorian opened his mouth to speak, but the demon released another screech from his lips, raising his head off the floor and slamming it back down with skull-cracking force. Dorian’s magic crackled around them, forcing the blackness back down once again. “I haven’t got anything left to fight it off.”

“Leave him alone!” the king shouted from behind them. “Leave him alone, Blackbeak! Keep out of this!”

Manon’s heart thumped in her chest, and a lump lodged itself in her throat as she spoke over the king’s cries. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

“Oh, my darling witchling,” he breathed, running his thumb across her cheek and wiping away a teardrop, “I love you.”

She dropped the sword beside him, leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his ice cold lips, her mouth lingering as her hands cradled his face. “For as long as there is blue blood coursing through my veins, I will love you, Dorian Havilliard, and I will honour you.”

She sat up and grasped the hilt in both hands, raising it high above her head, and whispered, “Goodbye, princeling.”

He nodded, and took a deep breath, “Goodbye witching. Come find me when you tire of this life.”

She bobbed her head, her vision now clouded by emotion. The black began to seep up his neck, under the collar and towards his face. He sucked in air through his teeth and she felt his body begin to shake as the Valg made one final attempt to break free.

The king let out a whimpering cry in desperation, but she didn’t hear it.

She lifted the sword higher, and in one sweeping motion, brought it down on his chest, piercing his heart, and screamed.

The scream died down and the sword clattered to the ground. Dorian sat bolt upright in bed. His heart was pounding, his chest heaving, and sweat ran down every sculpted muscle of his body in a torrent.

A kiss of cool air brushed his face and he looked around the room. Weathered stone walls, grand furniture, paintings of witches that looked eerily like her - his witchling. His hands went straight to his neck, prepared to touch the cold, smooth stone collar. Nothing. Just skin. He released a wilting breath of relief and covered his mouth with one hand.

A belt hung loosely over the back of a chair, and the sword that had fallen from it still rattled on the floor below, surrounded by dust sheets. Wind-cleaver.

“Good morning,” said a sleepy voice from over his shoulder.

He turned to find Manon Blackbeak lying beside him, still wearing her travelling clothes and red cloak.

“I didn’t think you were going to show up,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

She stretched, elongating her lithe body, and pressed her hand to his heart, feeling the pounding rhythm, the damp flesh. “You were fast asleep when I got here, the candles burned out, and you looked so peaceful…unlike now.” She frowned and pushed herself up until she was sitting in front of him. “Are you all right?”

He rolled his lips, fighting back the urge to weep, and covered her hand to hold it in place.

“Dorian?”

He felt the warmth of her touch seep into him, thawing him, awakening him from the darkness. He relaxed his shoulders and leaned forward, kissing her lips with delicate precision.

Her hands covered his cheeks, cradling him. “Did you have a nightmare, princeling?” she whispered against his mouth before kissing him. He nodded, and she felt a shiver run the length of his body, and hers. “You were back there, weren’t you? Back in Rifthold, back in the…in the collar.” Her eyes dropped to his neck and lingered there.

Dorian frowned. That was no simple look of empathy on her face, that was fear. “Ma…Manon? Did you have it too?”

She rolled her lips and nodded once. “I killed you.” Her hand drifted up over her mouth and shook. Her whole body shook. She’d never felt such powerful emotions before, such burning pain at the thought of killing someone; she’d done it enough times. But he wasn’t just anyone. “I watched you fade away, be replaced by that…that thing, and then I killed you.”

“It wasn’t real,” he said, his sapphire eyes bright and clear, his hands covering hers. “I’m here, and I’m free.”

She spluttered a cry, and stroked her thumbs over his cheeks. His eyes watched her intently, gold reflected in sapphire. “Free,” she whispered, and glanced back down at the pale scar around his neck. “How do you think this happened?”

He dropped his hand and gently pressed it against her thumping heart. “I told you in the nightmare that this beats for me, Manon. I don’t think that part was false.” He covered his heart, “And mine does the same for you.”

Without a word, she pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him and feeling his hands slip around her in response. “You are mine, Dorian Havilliard, king of Adarlan, and I will remind you of that until there isn’t a drop of blue blood in my veins.”

He held her closer, and clenched his eyes shut. A single tear dripped onto her cloak, and he breathed, “And you are mine, Manon Blackbeak; last Crochan queen, and my darling witchling.”

#fan fiction #fan fic #my writing #manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #dorian x manon #thirteen #asterin blackbeak #sorrel #blackbeak witches #blackbeak clan #throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #story

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