Summary: Just when Lorcan thinks that things can’t get any worse, the mating bond snaps into place. T, Elorcan, Post EoS.
Whitethorn was getting supplies in town; Gavriel was meeting with a potential ally. This left Lorcan with Elide to go to the taverns and collect information.
Elide was standing at the bar, hand around her pint. She’d been clever - milking the same drink for the past half-hour as the man she spoke to ordered more. It was easy to overhear their conversation - “Why don’t you have a drink for me?” Elide had said, a lilt to her voice and a smile in her eyes. It didn’t surprise him that the man - mortal as he was, young as he was - compiled.
As Elide gathered information, Lorcan watched: the types to walk in and out, how the staff acted, any signs of magic or fey - or, dread the thought, Maeve. His instincts told him that this was as safe, as magic-free, as they were going to get.
“Did you hear the about the fire-queen?” the man said. Lorcan tuned back into the conversation.
Elide raised her eyebrows. “I heard rumors - my brother and I had been travelling through the mountains for so long. Is any of it true?”
“Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” he said, a pinch of awe in his voice. “She took down the capital of Adarlan. Kidnapped the crown prince. Rides with witches. She stood up to the Fey Queen with a pirate fleet. And then was captured.” He shook his head, his blond hair falling into his face. “Wonder what she’ll do next?”
“Captured?” Elide said. “By who?”
“None other than the Queen of Doranelle,” he said. He brushed his hair behind his face. “But…”
“But?” Elide prompted.
“Rumors,” he said, in a low voice, “Of a heist to retrieve her. That girl has a price on her head - it wouldn’t surprise me if all corners of the world collaborated to retrieve her. Only so they could draw and quarter her after.”
Lorcan almost snorted at the image.
“It sounds like,” Elide said carefully, “That this Aelin has made quite a few people angry.”
That got the man to laugh. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. Say - what was your name again?”
Lorcan watched as his eyes flickered - half a second, if that - to her breasts. He barely suppressed a snarl. And Elide entertained it, flirting back, eyes lingering on the youth’s mouth. He could hardly be older than twenty mortal years. Inexperienced, no doubt, and eager.
Lorcan clenched his fists and grit his teeth as he watched his mate flirt with another male - a mortal man, no less - when Whitethorn entered the tavern, headed straight for his table. He was in his mortal glamour, yet his still turned heads. Elide, however, only had eyes for the blond in front of her.
Lorcan grit his teeth. Whitethorn would no doubt be able to sense the change in his scent, see through his protective behavior. Shit.
Whitethorn sat. There was a beat of silence; Whitethorn followed Lorcan’s gaze, and said, “This must be killing you.” There was no taunt in his voice, only genuine sympathy.
“I was in love with Maeve for centuries,” he said. “This is a mere annoyance.”
Even he knew that the words were a lie. Part of Lorcan didn’t care - part of him felt unbearably guilty. If this is what Whitethorn felt about the Fire-Bringer - and she was gone, captured, her very life in danger...gods.
Lorcan allowed himself a glance at Whitethorn. “Don’t deny yourself this,” he said, then rose. “Gavriel will be coming soon. You two should take the room with the window.”
Lorcan leveled a stare at his former second. “She won’t like that. Why two rooms?”
Whitethorn met his gaze. “She’s your mate, Lorcan, and we are at war. Take what time you can.”
With that, the silver-haired male swept out of the room. Lorcan drummed his fingers against the table, wondering - not looking forward to a night of icy silence - when he looked up.
Elide was staring at him, shock written clear across her face. When their eyes met, that shock warped into anger. She had heard - Whitethorn, the bastard, had made sure that she had heard.
modern (college?? office?) au where Lorcan is crushing on Elide and is stressing asking her out and Fenrys being a little shit and taunting him lol
i am alive
“I don’t see what the problem is here Mr. Grumpy.”
Fenrys’s face was glowing with a devious smirk. Lorcan couldn’t see it, but he could definitely hear it. Ever since Lorcan had told him about his “little” crush on Elide, the girl from his American History class, Fenrys was relentless in his teasing.
“I mean, it’s really not that hard. Except it might be for you. Regardless, all you gotta do is ask her if she wants to see a movie or get coffee or some shit. It really is that simple bro.”
Lorcan let out a low growl and sent up that a silent that Fenrys would get the hint and leave him to do his essay in silence. He was already struggling in the class since he was repeatedly finding himself distracted.
Maybe I should find a tutor…
Fenrys clapped a hand on Lorcan’s shoulder and all but shouted in his ear, “Oh hey!! Maybe you could invite her to festival this weekend. Live music, free food, booze, and good vibes. Plus the whole gang will be there, so we can help with your image and flirting game since it’s clearly lackluster.”
Having enough, Lorcan whipped around and stood to his full height, instantly making even the most bravest of men think twice. Fenrys’s face dropped into something dim and his body tensed, waiting for the blow he’d been asking for all along. But it never came.
In a voice that could be used in accordance with a god of death, Lorcan gritted out, “For the love of all that is holy, would you leave me alone before I feed your own balls to you? Can’t you see I’m working? And I don’t need your damn dating advice. So just leave it alone, better yet leave me alone.”
Fenrys was silent for a minute, before giving Lorcan a disturbingly bright smile and quipped, “Why didn’t just say so man? I would’ve left ages ago.” Lorcan sneered grossly and turned to sit back down at his desk. He could hear Fenrys gathering his things behind him while whistling a cheery tune. “I’ll see ya later old man. Meet us for a drinks tonight if you’re up for it!” The door slammed and Lorcan breathed a sigh of relief.
But now he was left his own thoughts and they were unbearably suffocating.
I hope you're still taking requests, all of the prompts sound so great that I had a hard time choosing. But I am now stuck between 5 (Wait are you, jealous) and 32 (I think I am in love with you, and I am terrified) both sound so perfect for Manorian, that I decided to just send in both as I will be happy with reading either of those prompts.
im literally the worst fic writer ever cause i never write shit for anyone so im seriously sorry for just now writing this ;(
#5 “Wait, are you jealous?”
To be entirely honest, he knew there was nothing to be worried about. Manon is a beautiful woman whose downright terrifying personality is just so captivating for some reason beyond him. But Dorian couldn’t help but be jealous of the young man dancing with her and whose hand keeps slipping just a little further south than he’d like with every passing song. He knows he’s not being subtle about his staring. Both Aelin and Aedion have stopped by to jab at him and Manon has shot him a few looks herself. But who cares.
As yet another slow song came to an end and the young man very obviously asked for another dance, Dorian’s uncharacteristically thin patience snapped. He stood abruptly from his throne at the head of the ballroom, passed the smug smirks of just about everyone, and stopped directly beyond the young man. Manon wore a bored look but looked on anyways, secretly hoping for some kind of interesting spectacle to occur.
Dorian tilted his chin up slightly to look down at the young and cleared his throat heartily. The man whipped around and his eyes went wide when he realized who was not even inches away from him with an icy look in his eyes.
“Perhaps I can have the next dance? I’m sure you’ve had your fair share for the night don’t you think?”
The man gulped rather cartoonishly and nodded quickly before ducking around Dorian and nearly bolting in the opposite direction. Dorian watched on in satisfaction before turning back to Manon. She still looked bored but he could see the interest there in her eyes.
“I was actually enjoying his company, you know.”
Dorian smirked before grabbing her by the waist and pulling her close as the next song started. He moved then to the rhythm without a moments hesitation.
“I’m sure you did but let’s be honest with each other, you’d much rather prefer my company over his.”
Manon’s eyes narrowed only slightly before the realization became evident.
“Wait…” she stopped moved abruptly but moved her lips to Dorian’s ear and drawled, “are you… jealous?”
Dorian schooled his face into impassivity but he knew that he was caught even before he interrupted the previous pair. But like hell would he admit to it.
Moving to start leading them again, Dorian went to grab Manon’s hand and waist, but she stepped back and away from him wearing an expression that could only mean she was ready to play.
“If you won’t admit it then I’m gonna go find a new dancing partner. I like my partners to be forthcoming about what they really want,” she said with a glint to her eyes before sauntering away. Leaving Dorian without a dancing partner in the middle of the ballroom and ignoring the snickers he could hear gliding around him.
He watched her make her way back to the young man in the corner. He watched her deliver a perfect smile and grasp that poor man’s heart in her nails. He watched the man nod eagerly. And then he stomped across the ballroom, whispered just the right words in her ear, and let himself be dragged out of that treacherous ballroom.
