Congrats on 1k!!🥳💜 Your gorgeous writing deserves it😍 For the mutual mixtape, do you think you could do Manorian + K. by Cigarettes After Sex as a drabble, please? 😘✌️
🥺🥺🥰 Aww thank you love! You’re so sweet!
I’ll wait forever
Song of Choice- K.- Cigarettes After Sex (I actually made this a drabble *pats self on back*)
Dorian climbed the stairs up to his old chambers. His footsteps along the cool stone are the only sounds to be heard. Parts of the palace were still being reworked and this was one of them. It had been five months since they saved Terrasen and all of Erilea from Erawan and Meave. Five months since he had seen her. The night of Aelin’s coronation where the two of them poured all their passion and love into each other throughout the night. Holding Manon until she slept soundly in his arms. It was as good as it would be with her for sometime, he knew that. Yet he wished she could stay with him and never leave.
He told himself every night, every day that Manon hadn’t visited because she was busy delegating in the witch kingdom. As time passed he was beginning to think she’d never return to him. Perhaps as the last Crochan queen she found her place and no need to look back. The feeling unsettled him. More than he cared to admit. It was there and grew ever present as days wore on.
He despised only having Manon in his mind, his dreams. Despised that the tip of his fingers could not run along her skin, or through strands of hair kissed by moonlight. The dreams he had of crimson lips and golden eyes were more haunting than blissful. It pained him and yet, he couldn’t let go. Believing she would one day return.
Dorian wasn’t sure when he fell for the half Crochan, half Ironteeth witch. He knew the first time she stayed and slept in his arms, that Manon was no distraction. She was more than that, and slowly she healed the cracks in his heart from Sorscha. With every smirk, kiss, touch, the way she loved her people and Abraxos. Cold on the outside, but on the inside she was burning with love only few could see. He considered himself lucky to have been so close he could touch that fire.
His palm moved along the smooth stone walls as he reached the hall. There were still scratches and marks littered across the stones from when the witches attacked Adarlan. If he shut his eyes he could still hear servants screaming during the chaos of it all. Dorian made his way through the isolated hall reaching the wrought iron door. He yanked it open with a loud thud. The door groaned with an almost eerie sound as he stepped in.
There was no debris scattered along the floor anymore. The bed had been removed as well as most of the furniture. Whether saved or tossed he didn’t know. From what transpired here, thrown out was his estimation. Dorian could picture Manon flying into his chambers on Abraxos. Her face all the might of a warrior ready for bloodshed. Her eyes when she landed on him were mingled with worry and care. He knew she’d still deny it. The King of Adarlan smiled at the thought wandering to the edge of the room. Towards the gaping hole on the side. He saw the building she landed on mere nights after the Valg Prince was cast from his body. How she waved at him. He waved at her.
Gods above did he miss her. Perhaps he should have taken her on the marriage alliance. Dorian sat on the floor with a soft plop staring out into the darkened skies. Thinking of all the times they were entangled together. The nights during and after Morath where he thought of her. Not only the way she felt when they laid together and forgot the world. But how she said his name when she reached her high. Like he was her divine salvation. When they stayed in their camp on a cot talking of the shared burden of crowns. Thinking of the way she shielded herself from worrying of him. When he knew deep down Manon was terrified for him. It was that moment, when she refused to speak to him for days, that he could tell her feelings were changing. She was starting to feel something genuine and true.
Now as he sits on the cold stone floor, feeling more like a boy with a broken heart. Than a King ruling a land. Resting his cheek on his fist, fingers tracing the floor making icy swirls in their wake as he sighed deeply out of frustration and boredom. Being separated from her, Dorian learned one thing. He preferred the world just with her and no one else. A foolish thought for a king and wItch queen, it was one that gave him comfort nonetheless. That and the thought of kissing and holding her until she fell asleep in his arms.
“Manon,” he spoke to the open air, watching the stars twinkling in the night. Wondering if she’s looking at the same ones, “I know it’s stupid and you can’t hear me. I wish you’d come back already. I’ve been waiting for you and I still will. However long it takes.”
It was that moment, he heard the thunderous roar of a Wyvren.
