#manorian au

[shadowhandss60]

“Hey! Watch where you’re going-“

“I’m fairly certain you ran into me.”

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A little Manorian meet-cute moment 🖤

(Art by me)

[dawninlatin]

Queen of Peace, chapter 16

A manorian high school AU 

Words: 3,5k

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn’t let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

TRIGGER WARNING: References homophobia from previous chapter, emotional abuse, alcoholism

Gone are the days of begging

The days of theft

No more gasping for a breath

The air has filled me head to toe

-Florence + The Machine, Between Two Lungs

When Manon had fallen asleep, she and Dorian had been resting side by side, their shoulders barely brushing against each other, but their hands intertwined. 

Now, as she slowly woke up, she was lying on her side, a pair of arms wrapped around her middle. Dorian had to be asleep, still, because she could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back.

Twisting around, Manon allowed herself to shamelessly study his face. He looked so peaceful, such a contrast from the pain and panic she’d seen in him last night.

What his parents had said and done… It filled her with such rage she wanted to scream, but that wasn’t what Dorian needed right now, so she pushed it down.

Even if it had felt like a punch in the gut when he’d told her how his mother had just stood there, doing nothing, while his father kicked him out. It felt too close to her own situation. Was Asterin just as hurt by how Manon had done nothing? Right now, however, it wasn’t about her, so she wouldn’t think about it.

Instead, Manon lifted her hand, gently brushing a finger against Dorian’s lips. They were so soft, and something within her stirred at the thought of kissing them.

The featherlight touch was enough to stir Dorian awake too, though, and his eyes fluttered for a moment, before blinking open. They were still slightly red and puffy, along with his cheeks, Manon now noticed, but Dorian gave her a lazy smile as he found her studying him.

«Hi,» he said in a raspy voice.

«Hey,» Manon answered, her own voice just as raw.

For a long moment they just stared at each other, neither of them saying anything. They had too much to talk about, too little time to stay in this bubble they had created.

One of Dorian’s hands, which were still wrapped around Manon, began stroking up and down her back in soothing motions.

«How did you sleep?» 

The way Dorian winced was answer enough on its own, along with the dark circles under his eyes, but he said, «Better than I thought I would.»

Manon could see the exact moment he decided to cover up the gravity of the situation with his usual teasing and swagger, and his smirk wasn’t fully convincing, but she played along. They could talk later.

«I would have slept much better if you didn’t snore so loudly though.»

Manon gasped, clutching her non-existent pearls. «I do not snore! That you would even suggest such a thing-»

But she smiled, feeling a little lighter, and she could glimpse the usual humor in Dorian’s eyes.

«Why do you think Abraxos left in the middle of the night?»

Throwing a glance at the foot of the bed, Manon confirmed it was indeed empty. She hadn’t even realized her cat wasn’t in the bed with them anymore. Oops…

«He probably left because you take up all the space.»

Dorian scoffed. «What?! That is absurd. Outrageous. Absolute tomfoolery-»

That made Manon snort with laughter, and Dorian soon joined her. They were both grinning now.

«You’re pretty cute when you sleep, though. Even if you snore…»

He still smiled, but his eyes bored into her with a sudden intensity. One that made butterflies appear in her stomach.

«I told you I don’t snore, so I don’t know who you slept with last night,» Manon claimed, fluttering her eyelashes for emphasis.

Raising one eyebrow, Dorian said, «Are you trying to tell me you get possessed by a seventy-year-old man every night? Because that’s actually what you sound like.»

«Oh shut up!»

«Make me.»

So Manon did, by crashing her lips against his.

-

A while later, they were both standing in the kitchen, Manon watching as Dorian made scrambled eggs, Abraxos snaking himself against their legs in hope of getting a treat. It was almost 11 already, but seeing that it was a Sunday, they had all the time in the world to avoid talking about everything.

Or at least until Monday, when they both had school and Manon’s grandmother came back.

As if sensing her thoughts, Dorian turned away from the eggs, asking, «Your grandmother was coming back tomorrow, right?»

And just like that, their bubble was burst.

«Yeah…» Manon looked down as she spoke, unable to meet his eyes. They both knew he couldn’t stay here forever, but Manon felt awful for it. He’d just been kicked out of his own home, for fuck’s sake. 

«I want to let you stay, I really do, but my grandmother-» Before she could continue, Dorian stepped closer, cupping her face.

«I know. You’ve already done so much for me, Manon. Don’t feel bad.»

Manon placed her hands over his, getting lost in his blue eyes.

«I’ll call Chaol or Aelin later today. I can stay with one of them for a while, until I figure out what to do.» It amazed her how he managed to sound so certain, so reassured, after yesterday’s events, so she told him as much.

«You’re amazing, you know that?»

Dorian beamed at her, but then the moment was interrupted when a phone started ringing in the distance.

«Shit, that’s mine,» Dorian said, but he didn’t pull away. 

Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, Manon urged him, «Go. I’ll finish breakfast for us.»

Dorian obeyed, disappearing down the hallway, and Manon shifted her attention to the forgotten eggs on the stove, which were moments away from burning.

It didn’t take long before Dorian returned to the kitchen, ringing phone in hand and a look of shock and disbelief on his face.

«It’s my mom.»

-

Dorian just stared at his phone, letting it ring for what seemed like forever, before it finally went silent. He hadn’t believed it at first, when he’d seen who was calling, but it was his mother. He couldn’t even remember the last time she’d called him.

A moment passed, and then it started again, the display still reading Mom. Dorian was frozen, fearing what would happen if he answered.

«Hey,» Manon said in a soft voice, having walked over to him without his notice. «If you don’t like what she has to say, you can just hang up.»

Her words gave him the courage to press answer before it stopped ringing again.

With shaking hands, he lifted the phone to his ear, but he didn’t say anything. 

«Dorian?» The voice on the other sounded like his mom’s, but also not. It was too present, too caring.

He nodded at first, but then realized she couldn’t actually see him, and forced out a quiet «Yeah?»

Manon took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

His mother went silent for a little while, but then he heard her sniffle, as if she was crying, before she said, «Are you far away?»

Dorian wasn’t sure what was happening right now. His mother didn’t call to ask where he was. His mother was too deep in her wine glass to care about anything. His mother had just sat there last night while his father basically disowned him simply for being bisexual.

Except she hadn’t.

Dorian remembered now, how she’d tried to stop him. And it hit him, all of a sudden, that it hadn’t been to avoid an argument during family dinner. No, the intensity, the alertness in those eyes…that had been a mother desperately trying to protect her child.

That moment of action didn’t undo all the other times when she’d remained silent during his father’s constant berating, but it mattered.

To Dorian, it mattered.

«No.»

His heart was still hammering, but he managed short, simple answers.

«I-, I would like to talk to you, to apologize.»

«Okay.»

«But maybe it’s best in person?»

«Yeah.»

«Do you think you could come home? When you’re ready?»

«Mom-»

«Your dad isn’t here….He left last night. I’ll explain later.»

That got his attention. What the fuck had happened after he’d been thrown out? 

«What?»

«I’ll explain in person. I promise, Dorian.»

He looked to Manon, who’d remained by his side this whole time, breakfast forgotten. He still held her hand, as if it was a lifeline, but when she gave him a fierce look, along with a nod of encouragement, he knew what he had to do, even if it scared him.

Taking a deep breath, Dorian finally answered, «Okay. Give me an hour.»

Then he hung up.

-

An hour later, Dorian was walking up to his house with no idea what to expect. Did he even live here, still?

He refused to get his hopes up, for his own sake, refused to believe his mom would finally start being…well, a mom.

Not even 24 hours ago, he’d stood in this very spot, feeling empty and alone, betrayed, thinking he’d just lost his home.

Now, he was just as shocked, but his time with Manon had left him with a little more courage.

After he’d hung up, he’d shared a quiet breakfast with Manon. She’d offered to go with him, and he’d wanted to say yes, but deep down he knew he had to do this on his own. 

So they’d finished their breakfast, and after a long embrace (and a few kisses), he’d left, Manon wishing him good luck and telling him to call at any moment if he needed to.

What would meet him inside that house, no one knew, but it couldn’t get much worse than last night, and he’d survived that, so he could survive this too.

Dorian gave himself one more minute to try and calm down, then he stepped through the front door.

At first, there was nothing but silence, but then his mother rushed into the hallway, coming to a halt a few feet away from him. Hollin came in after her, still in his pajamas, and stopped to hide behind her legs.

Standing there, Dorian looked at his mom, not sure what he was seeing. She seemed more awake, more present, than she had in years, glad to see him whole by the way she smiled, but also nervous by the way her hands shook.

Then she spoke, the words so shocking that for a moment, Dorian believed his mother had actually been abducted by aliens, and this was the impostor they’d sent to take her place.

«Do you want pancakes?»

Dorian just blinked, and he must have looked as clueless as he felt, because his mother/alien-impostor explained, «Pancakes. Hollin and I made them for breakfast.» As she said the last part, she reached out to stroke Hollin’s hair.

Shaking his head, Dorian stammered, «I- Uh…I just had breakfast…actually.»

«Oh, okay.» His mom gestured towards the kitchen. «Would you like to sit down, so we can talk?»

«Yeah,» Dorian breathed, then he followed her into the kitchen.

He sat down by the small table, nothing like the huge, too-formal one in the dining room. Dorian couldn’t help but feel relieved they weren’t having this conversation there. Throwing a nervous glance at the room, it seemed like the mess from last night had been cleaned up.

«Just give me a moment,» his mom said, then she led Hollin into the living room. The way she spoke to him, so gentle and caring, baffled him.

«Why don’t you watch a movie while me and Dorian have a chat? We’ll be right in the kitchen if you need anything, alright? You can come and get me at any moment.»

Dorian could vaguely recall a time when his mother had been this soft and gentle person, but the few good years had easily been overshadowed by the later years, when she’d been distant and drunk most of the time.

Those early years had been good years, though, Dorian thought. He remembered being a pretty happy child, feeling safe and loved. His father had been gone a lot of the time, either at work or traveling, but he’d had his mom and her family.

Then something had changed, seemingly out of the blue. His dad became more controlling, his mom more distant. Their relatives stopped visiting. Then Hollin had been born, and things had gotten even worse.

Lost in thought, Dorian didn’t notice that his mother was back until the noise of a chair scraping against the floor filled the otherwise quiet room.

She sat down across from him, and to his great shock, yet again, she was cupping not a glass of wine, but a mug of coffee. It was into said cup she stared as she spoke. «I don’t even know where to start.»

Not knowing either, Dorian just asked the question he needed the answer to the most: «Where’s dad?»

«I told him to leave last night, so he did.»

His mother finally looked him in the eyes, then, her expression so awake, despite the dark circles. She looked like she’d slept just as little as him.

It sounded so simple, but he knew there was no way it could have been. A million possible replies went through Dorian’s head, but in the end he chose to go with «How?»

She took a long sip of her coffee, before she started explaining.

«As soon as you’d closed the door last night, Hollin completely lost it. He flung himself to the floor and started screaming, hands covering his head. Your dad told me to deal with it, then shut himself inside his office. It took forever to calm your brother down, and I swear I have never seen anyone so terrified…the look on his face-»

His mother stopped for a moment, as if lost in thought, but Dorian didn’t say anything, only waited for her to continue.

«After he’d calmed down in his room, and I’d assured him you were okay, I went to talk to your father, told him I wanted him gone immediately. He just laughed it off at first, but then I reminded him that I actually own this house, that he was nothing before me, that he would still be nothing without me, and it seemed to resonate with him, if only a little.»

Dorian was too stunned to speak. He knew that his mother came from a rich family, and that his father absolutely didn’t, but this-

«Then, I threatened to call the police if he didn’t get out of my house. I don’t think he would have been charged with anything, but it would have damaged his reputation greatly, so he packed a few bags and took off like the coward he is.»

There was no remorse in her voice, no fear, only steely resolve.

«What if he comes back?» Dorian found himself whispering.

«Then he’ll be met with a locked door. I’ll even get a restraining order if I need to.»

Dorian needed a moment to reconcile this woman sitting in front of him with the mother he knew. It was too good to be true. She couldn’t have just decided she wanted to try from now on. It couldn’t be that easy.

«What changed?»

She swallowed. «I’m not sure you’re aware of it, but you looked at me last night, as if begging me to do something, say something, and then when I didn’t, the disappointment in your eyes…as if you knew I wouldn’t act, yet you hoped-»

A tear escaped, then another. «I have never felt so ashamed of myself. Someone was hurting my child, and I just sat there and did nothing. Then it hit me, how I barely even know you anymore. You’ve grown into a wonderful, bright young man, and I can take no credit for it.»

Dorian felt tears of his own fall down his cheeks, and as he sniffled, his mom reached out to grab his hand.

«I’m so sorry, Dorian. For last night, for all the other nights, for the previous years-»

The tears kept falling, but he let them.

«It also hit me that while it might be too late for me to be the mom you deserve, it’s not too late for Hollin. He’s still so young-»

«It’s not too late,» Dorian managed to choke out. 

His mom let out a sob at that, and for a while, they just sat there, crying together over everything they’d lost.

«I can’t promise you things will be perfect, but I’m gonna try, Dorian. For you and Hollin, I’m gonna try.»

Dorian nodded.

«I’m seeing a therapist on Tuesday, already, and I’ve made an appointment with a divorce lawyer.»

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t, but her words filled him with such hope. Maybe things would actually change for the better.

«I also spent a few hours on the phone last night, with your aunt Philippa. Do you remember her?»

Nodding once more, Dorian recalled the image of his aunt. His mother had lost touch with her sister several years ago, but they’d been close when he was little. She was a few years younger than his mom, and as far as he knew, still unmarried with no kids. He’d liked aunt Philippa.

«She’s coming to stay for a while,» his mom said, smiling faintly now. Things really were changing.

Her smile quickly fell, though, at what she said next. «I’ll also start attending AA-meetings.» She looked down. «I know I have a problem, but I’ll try my best to get better.» Dorian looked over her shoulder, towards the wine rack hanging on the wall, but it was empty.

Squeezing his mother’s hand, Dorian whispered, «That sounds like a good idea.»

They talked some more, having a lot to work through, but then his mom asked, «Did you stay with Chaol last night? Or Aelin? You are still friends with them, right?»

Dorian let out a chuckle. «Yeah, I am.» Then his face went warm as he thought of how he’d woken up this morning, the body he’d been pressed against. «I stayed with Manon, though.»

«Is she your girlfriend?»

Dorian quickly shook his head, slightly mortified.

«But she’s more than a friend?» his mom pried, raising an eyebrow.

Was he that obvious?

As if reading his mind, she said, «Your whole face changed when you said her name. In a good way, though.»

That made him blush even more, and he mumbled something about them not labeling anything.

«As long as she makes you happy. Though I always thought you would end up with Chaol.»

Her words didn’t register at first, but when they did, he burst into tears once more. After last night-

It was such a subtle, casual way to let him know she fully accepted his sexuality, and it meant the world to Dorian. He hadn’t known how much he needed this.

As he sobbed, his mom stood up and came around to his side of the table, pulling him into a tight hug. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged his mom.

And as she whispered «My brave, beautiful boy. I love you so much», he finally believed everything would be alright.

-

A while later, Dorian entered the living room, where Hollin was sprawled on the couch, hypnotized by what seemed to be a Cars movie.

The seven-year-old was so transfixed he didn’t even notice when Dorian sat down next to him. 

«Is that the one with the spies?»

Hollin nodded absentmindedly. 

«Awesome! I love that one.»

That seemed to catch his attention, because the kid twisted his entire body, frowning at Dorian. «Really?»

«Yeah,» Dorian shrugged. In fact, he’d watched it with Chaol and Aelin just a few weeks ago. Their movie night may or may not have also involved alcohol, but it had still been hilarious.

Hollin stared at him for a long moment, before he flung himself at him. Dorian was stunned for a few seconds, but quickly returned the embrace.

«I’m glad you’re still my brother,» Hollin mumbled into his chest, burrowing even closer.

His words broke Dorian’s heart, and he held back a fresh wave of tears as he said, «I’ll always be your brother, dude.»

Then they both settled on the couch, Hollin snuggling against Dorian’s side, to watch the rest of the movie. All throughout, Hollin excitedly told Dorian about which cars were his favorites and why.

Dorian’s phone buzzed once, and he picked it up to find a text from Manon:

Manon: How did it go? Are you okay?

His heart warmed at her concern, and he found himself smiling at his phone.

Dorian: We’re all good for now

Dorian: Had a really long talk

Dorian: I’ll call you later tonight

Dorian: Thank you, btw, for yesterday<3

Dorian: And this morning<3<3

Manon: <3<3

A/N: An uncommon Georgina W? What is this?

I would just like to say that getting out of an abusive marriage is rarely as easy as portrayed here, but this fic is about Dorian, not Georgina, and he deserved some love and healing for once<3

Stay safe guys<3<3

Taglist: @fireheartfaery @bookishwitchling @gwynethhberdara @darklingswhxore @onfma @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sayosdreams @rowaelinismyotp @rainbowcheetah512 @mirubyjane @zoyalovesbooks​ @wishfulimaginings​

[hherongraystairs]

Vive, Manon. — MANORIAN.

Al principio esto iba a ser para el rowaelin week pero necesitaba escribir algo sobre manon y dorian PORQUE LOS AMO Y EXTRAÑO MUCHO

Tal vez haya una segunda parte 🙂

El fanart es de inkfae en ig.

La pequeña Asterin, de apenas una semana de nacida, no dejaba de llorar y Manon ya no sabía qué hacer. Ya le había cambiado el pañal, la amamantó e incluso trató de cantarle para hacerla dormir pero resultó en todo lo contrario.

Dorian tuvo que irse a atender algunos asuntos y disputas, seguramente insignificantes, entre los lores de Adarlan y Manon estaba apunto de tener una crisis. Aún estaba tratando de familiarizarse con esta nueva vida de ser madre, su corazón era un lío de emociones: ternura y amor incondicional hacía la bebé que estaba entre sus brazos en ese momento y también el profundo amor que sentía por Dorian, su esposo, que tanto le había costado aceptar. En contraste a esto, el miedo a no ser lo suficiente para su pequeña brujita y de decepcionar a Dorian permanecían en su mente.

 Con el pasar de los días comprendió que si su bebé lloraba, ella también iba a terminar al borde de las lágrimas de una forma u otra. Yrene, esa insufrible pero muy querible sanadora, decía que era normal pero eso no bastaba para tranquilizar a Manon. Esperaba que Asterin sea una bebé tranquila, como el hijo de Chaol e Yrene que se la pasaba todo el día durmiendo, pero resultó todo lo contrario: Asterin apenas lograba dormir unos minutos durante la noche, en consecuencia sus padres tampoco lo hacían.¿Había algo mal con ella? ¿Tenía que llevarla con las sanadoras?

– Manon, tranquila. Sólo debe tener hambre. No sabía en qué momento Dorian volvió o cuándo comenzó a llorar pero de repente él se encontraba rodeándolas a ambas con sus brazos. Manon se permitió recargarse en su peso a la vez que Dorian besaba su coronilla.— No, no es eso. La alimenté hace pocos minutos ¿Y si hay algo mal con ella? ¿Y si le está pasando algo y yo estoy acá parada cómo una inútil sin saber qué hacer? 

Seguramente sonó más desesperada de lo que se permitía parecer porque Dorian tomó a Asterin de sus brazos y comenzó a mecerla lentamente. Al estar en los brazos de su papá su brujita dejó de llorar. Manon sintió que todo el estrés de los últimos minutos desaparecía pero por alguna razón eso le dió aún más ganas de llorar.

— No hay nada de malo con nuestra pequeña princesa, Brujita. Sólo extrañabas a papi, ¿cierto, mi amor? — Los ojos del rey estaban llenos de ternura mientras miraba a su hija, quién levantó su pequeña mano y tomó uno de los dedos de su padre en respuesta. La reina podría haberse derretido de amor por su esposo y su hija. 

Una vez que se durmió, Dorian dejó a la bebé en su cuna y rodeó la cintura de Manon con sus brazos, atrayéndola a él para unir sus labios con dulzura. 

—No eres inútil, Manon. Eres la mejor madre que Asterin pudo haber tenido.— ahora la ternura en los ojos del rey estaba dirigida hacia ella. No lo merecía. No merecía el inmenso amor que Dorian sentía por ella, como tampoco merecía tener una hija tan hermosa y adorable como Asterin.

 — Obediencia, disciplina, brutalidad ¿Cómo puedo saber qué es lo que Asterin necesita si seguí esos valores durante años?— el dolor inundaba la mirada de oro de la reina, no se atrevía a mirar a Dorian a los ojos—, no sé cómo ser madre, no creo que pueda darle el cariño que necesita. No la merezco.

Dorian tomó su barbilla con delicadeza y la obligó a mirarlo, el azul chocando con el dorado. Los ojos del rey parecían un mar tormentoso, como si él también estuviese sufriendo, aunque no podía entender por qué.

 — Tú más que nadie mereces todo el amor que Asterin y yo te damos, Manon. Nadie más podría ser lo suficientemente digno de eso. Te mereces vivir, te mereces todo esto y mucho más — las dos manos del rey se posaron sobre sus mejillas, sus ojos azules se tranquilizaron y ahora la miraban con devoción, como si Manon fuese la cosa más preciada en el mundo. La misma mirada estaba en los ojos de la reina, su corazón dolió y se calentó a partes iguales ante sus palabras. — Yo tampoco sé cómo ser padre, también me asusto cuando no logro que deje de llorar o me quedo observándola mientras duerme, aunque suceda pocas veces, solo para asegurarme de que esté bien. Pero hay algo que sé con absoluta certeza: te amo, Manon Blackbeak, al igual que tú me amas. Y que Asterin crezca rodeada de este amor y protección es suficiente. 

Estaban tan cerca el uno del otro que ya casi no quedaba espacio entre sus cuerpos, sus frentes estaban unidas y respiraban el mismo aire. Uno de los momentos más íntimos que habían tenido. Pasaron tanto tiempo así, en silencio en los brazos del otro, que Manon pensó que Dorian ya había terminado hasta que luego de unos segundos continuó: 

—Ellas estarían muy orgullosas de ti.

Ese fue su límite, las lágrimas ahora fluían libremente por las mejillas de la reina. Dorian acariciaba su cabello blanco como la luna mientras Manon se recargaba en él todo el tiempo que necesite, al igual que le permitió hacerlo un año y medio atrás luego de esa devastadora y terrible guerra. 

[thewayshedreamed]

Dani!!!! Omg congrats for your followers milestone, I'm so proud of you!!! It's delightful to see you get the recognition 👏you👏deserve👏

If i may, could you write something for Manorian or Elorcan with the prompt “i can’t hide the way i feel about you anymore.” ? Feel free to do whatever you want with it 😅 and it's fine if you don't vibe with it 🥰

Thank you so much, my love! I appreciate the kindness more than you know 🥺💕

I went with Manorian for this one, so I hope that's okay! I haven't fulfilled a prompt for them yet, and I liked this one for them! Hope you enjoy!!

[Slightly nsfw, strong language, matures themes.]

931 words.

—

It wasn't rare that Manon reached out for a nightcap with Dorian. Usually, she was already a little tipsy and eager to cash in on their current arrangement by the time she texted or called.

They had met in class a couple of semesters back, and after running into each other on a night out, they had decided to keep doing so. Casually. Urgently. Often.

There was no talk of exclusivity, but Dorian hadn't slept with anyone else since they started. It wasn't that the opportunity hadn't presented itself. That happened quite regularly, in fact. He had a suspicion that most of the women and men who shamelessly propositioned him did't have the same preference for his particular tastes.

Manon always met his rough edges with her own, and their chemistry had only grown the more they bared those edges to each other. The intensity he threw at her never made her timid. She rose to meet him where he was, even daring to push him a little further at times.

Being understood had his walls come down without his realization. Manon made him feel seen, understood, and the desire to seek out anyone else had been snuffed out for quite some time. There hadn't been a side of himself, an intensity he'd shown, that made Manon balk. The fact that their desires were wholly compatible made him feel like his chest was tightening any time he thought too long on it.

That was the problem. He wasn't supposed to feel anything at all.

He'd been having a drink with Chaol at a bar in downtown Rifthold when Manon's text flashed across his screen. He'd finished his off, paid for the both of them, and said his goodbyes to his friend before calling her. After only a couple of rings, she picked up.

"Hi, princeling."

Her voice was velvet, and it send goosebumps over his skin. That didn't stop him from rolling his eyes at the nickname.

"Since you texted me, I assume you're trying to get into trouble." He paused at a crosswalk, glancing at the walk signal while he listened to her low rumble of a laugh.

"Something like that. Or maybe trouble loves company."

His breath hitched, and he chastised his brain for searching for a hidden meaning. Was she telling him she'd grown to love his company? And if so, how drunk was she? More likely than that, it was shallow play on words unworthy of much analysis. Dorian rolled his shoulders at the disappointment.

"I guess that makes two of us, then," he purred, walking briskly across the street to his car. "I'm on my way."

—

They lay on their backs, panting after wreaking havoc on each surface in pursuit of Manon's bedroom. Dorian wondered what kind of feat it would be to locate all of their discarded clothing, but ultimately decided that was a problem for later. He rolled his head to the side to find Manon's amber eyes fixed on him already, a satisfied smile across her face.

Dorian slid his fingers down her arm until he gripped her hand and brought it to lay on his stomach. His thumb rubbed soft circles over the redness around her wrists, soothing the delicate skin.

"No need to fuss, princeling. I'm a big girl," she teased, her voice raspy.

Dorian rolled his eyes. "I'm being nice. Don't ruin it."

Manon chuckled again, raising her free arm over her head and closing her eyes. He shamelessly allowed his eyes to take in her form, to map the delicate curves of her body in a way that allowed for more thorough worship the next time. Dorian was a goal-oriented man; always aiming to improve.

"You're staring."

How she knew it with her eyes closed was lost on him, but he didn't deny it. "Are you complaining, witchling?"

To his surprise, she rolled toward him, laying her head on his chest and tossing a leg over his. Manon wasn't usually one to initiate cuddling, but since he wasn't stupid, he helped her get situated. Her contented sigh was a punch to the stomach.

Very rarely did they sleep over, and when they did, it was purely due to exhaustion. In those cases, they slipped out quietly before the other awoke the next day to keep things simple. They had to keep certain lines in the sand, thus the rules.

Dorian raised a shaky hand to cup her bicep and wrapped his other arm around her back. Manon's sleepy voice gave him pause, but she made no moves to create any distance. "If you tell anyone we cuddled, I'll gut you."

He laughed, squeezing her in apology in the event he jostled her too much. "I wouldn't dare. Your secret is safe with me. I have my own to keep, so I get it."

Manon huffed a laugh through her nose and pressed her cheek against him in thanks. "What's yours?" Her words were heavy and slurred, as if she was barely hanging on to consciousness.

Her body started to twitch, and Dorian knew sleep would claim her soon. He swallowed thickly. Manon didn't press him to hurry, but he felt the urgency anyway.

"I can't hide the way I feel about you anymore," he whispered. That admission hadn't been on his agenda tonight, or in this lifetime, but he hadn't anticipated that she would ever ask.

Her body twitched against him again, and he realized the evenness of her breathing.

"Manon?"

Nothing, only her soft breaths dancing across his chest. Dorian pressed a kiss to her hair.

"Night, witchling."

[ghostiewriter]

beg for it | jiara

Summary: With war on the horizon and little time left, the group are having to pull every last string to get together enough allies to have a fighting chance in saving the world they live in. However, Kiara’s job is a little different. With a bounty on her head after the destruction of the city, the Crowned Princess needs to keep a low profile, thus giving her the job of convincing their prisoner to switch sides. It just so happens their prisoner and Kiara have quite a history...and it just so happens that neither one can ignore the tension between each other any longer. (Throne of Glass AU)

Warnings: this is probably the filthiest smut I’ve ever written in my life so be prepared for that, Top!Kie and Bottom!JJ supremacy😌also possible spoilers for the series so read at your own risk! Also some swearing and mentions of blood, death and violence.

Word Count: 14.8K

A/N: okay so ignore the shitty moodboard, I was lazy and just wanted to post this😂but yah! Here you go, this is probably gonna be the last Jiara content for a while until my exams are done and it’s mostly just smut so🤡you don’t have to know anything about the Throne of Glass world to read this, I tried to explain any concepts as best as I could. However, if you have and you haven’t read up to Empire of Storms, there may be some teeny spoilers in here, especially if you can distinguish which characters is based off who! But anyways, enjoy my horny lads! 😌and you can thank @rcsales for enabling me to write this one-shot!!

masterlist

“I heard a rumour,” She began, head innocently tilted to the side as Genevieve’s words rang through her mind. “About witches.”

“Is that so?” He mused.

“Yes,” She said with a nod of her head. “I heard your kind had certain talents in bed.”

His eyes visibly darkened. “Why don’t you come over here and find out.”

Her lips twitched. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

A laugh escaped his lips but it wasn’t mocking, it wasn’t necessarily directed at her at all. She was sure of that when his gaze caught hers, JJ making a show of leaning closer towards her (or, as much as the chains allowed him to).

“I would like to do many things with you, Princess.” His voice was low, gravelly.

Her heart was hammering in her chest. “What would you like to do to me, JJ?”

The smirk he gave her was the kind that sent men and women running for the hills. But it simply excited Kiara. “Take these chains off and I’ll show you.”

“I quite like the sight of you in chains…all tied up,” She drawled out, a mischievous glint shining in her eyes. “All at my mercy.”

READ HERE ON AO3 NOW!!

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Pumpkin Mangling

31 Days of Spooktober

Day 3/31

Prompt: (from the other list) 4. “Maybe pumpkin carving isn’t your thing...”

Dorian had learned how to deal with strong willed women since he was a child.

He had bee raised with the most stubborn, strong and determined woman he could ever think of, and if someone could survive Aelin, the person could survive anyone.

He knew when they needed space and when they needed company. When they needed help and when they simply needed support. He had made sure that he was always a friend she could count on, and slowly he learned how to deal with situations the required him to proceed carefully.

He knew how to deal with woman. He really did.

And yet.

And yet, even knowing he shouldn’t, Dorian was in the brink of literal tears from holding his laughter in. He knew that, one single chuckle from him, and the seven inch knife on Manon’s hand would be buried on his thigh. Like his best friend, Manon was extremely independent and short tempered. More times than not, she wanted to to everything by herself not because she didn’t want help, but because she refused to ask.

Dorian knew that much of it had to do with her upbringing. Her grandmother was the worst human being he could ever think of, and the fact that Manon had been raised by that monster always made his heart ache. Her grandmother was cold, cruel and unforgiving. She had taught Manon to be the exact same but, although she could be those things, there was a softer side of Manon that she rarely let anyone— even herself— see.

“Baby—“ Dorian started cautiously, but the laughter could be noticed in his voice.

Manon didn’t took her eyes from what was in front of her, hand gripping the knife tighter. “Don’t.”

She had almost growled it, which only made the situation much funnier to Dorian. “Manon, I really—“

“I’ll fucking impale you, Havilliard.”

“I just think that maybe pumpkin carving isn’t your thing.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Manon declared, turning to Dorian. Her golden eyes were aflame, cheeks dirty with pumpkin filling. She was holding the knife as if she was about to take a run and stab Dorian. “I swear to the Gods, Dorian, if you laugh—“

Honestly, Dorian didn’t know what exactly made him snap. He didn’t know if it was the pumpkin all over her face, the cheeks red from anger. He didn’t know if it was the threatening voice, the hand shaking as she held the knife. Or maybe the simple fact that his girlfriend has never carved a pumpkin and she was absolute shit on it.

Dorian had to grab the counter as he doubled over in a fit of laughter. Manon hated being bad at something, and she had only decided to do this when Aelin taunted her about not being able to do something that even toddlers could.

Manon simply replied by saying that it wasn’t that she didn’t know how to do, she just never wanted to do.

Turns out that was a lie.

“Stop!” Manon shouted, letting go of the knife and stomping up to him. Without her usual heeled boots, Manon was comically short near Dorian. The sight of her crossing her arms in front of him, eyes narrowing just made him cackle more. “Dorian, I fucking meant it.”

Dorian took some deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. “You’re shit at carving pumpkins.”

“I’ll carve out your heart, you bloody prick.”

“You’re so fucking bad. It looks like someone stabbed it repeatedly.” He put a hand over his mouth as he looked at the mangled pumpkin on the table. It had been cut so many times that it was falling apart.

“The first one was worst.” Manon grunted. By her widening eyes, she immediately regretted what she had said.

Dorian guffawed, throwing his head back as literal tears fell down his cheeks. “This is not your first attempt?”

“I hate you. I fucking hate you and I hate Galathynius for making me even try this shit. It’s fucking useless!”

“Nah.” Dorian tried to say seriously. “It will certainly scare off the spirits. Actually, with this appearance, it will scare off anything.”

Manon shook her head, looking at the destruction she had caused. A small smile bloomed on her lips, and she let out a single laugh. “I hate you both. I mean it. I couldn’t have asked for a worst boyfriend and an even worse best friend.”

Dorian took a step forward, hugging Manon. As per usual, she was rigid as a block of cement for the first seconds before letting herself to relax. Manon wasn’t used on physical touch as a form of love demonstration. Dorian was the one who usually hugged her, kissed her and most of the small touches started from him. It never really bothered him, not really. Manon’s love demonstrations were completely different, but not lesser.

She was absurdly smart. She knew so much about science that it was mind blowing whenever she talked to Dorian about it. That was her love demonstrations. Manon was so reserved, so prompt to shove people away that whenever she talked about something she loved, whenever she let Dorian see the excited, passionate part of her, it was her way of saying that she trusted him. That she loved him just as much even though she wasn’t too keen on physically showing it all the time.

Manon would never be a helpless romantic, but Dorian wouldn’t even wish for anyone else’s love other than hers.

He kissed the top of her head, resting his chin on it. “If it is any consolation, I was shit at it when I was younger. Aelin teased me endlessly. Hers were always pretty and perfect, always the artist, but mine were even worse than yours.”

“You were five.” Manon mumbled.

“So? I learned because I had time. I’ll admit, your pumpkin is hideous—“ He was interrupted when she pinched him hard on his side. “But,” he said forcefully. “But you never had it during your childhood, you can’t expect to sit down and do it perfectly on your first day.”

“You said Aelin’s were.”

“Aelin is not human. Besides, she is an artist. The girl has been sculpting since she could walk. Pumpkins are a joke to her.” Dorian reminded Manon.

“I’ll throw this pumpkin on her face next time I see her.” Manon said only half-jokingly. Dorian had never been happier when his best friend and girlfriend became so close, became best friends themselves.

Until he realized what Manon and Aelin being best friends meant.

They were insane.

They had constant prank wars, were always bickering even though it was obvious that they loved each other like sisters. They were the two scariest people Dorian had ever seen, and them being best friends was terrifyingly entertaining.

“Give it to Whitethorn. I don’t think there is anyone whose existence annoys Aelin more. She would combust in anger if he threw a speck of pumpkin on her.”

Manon drew back, eyes wide as she stared up at Dorian. A huge smile appeared on her lips, and she let out a strange laugh. “Dorian Havilliard, you are a genius.”

Dorian narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I was joking. Leave Aelin and Rowan’s situation alone. Those two have been hating each other for years now.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Manon defended herself, but her voice didn’t match her words.

“Blackbeak, I mean it.”

She just laughed evilly, leaving Dorian’s arms to sit back at her stool. “Just sit and relax baby. Actually…”

Dorian waited for her to finish, raising her eyebrows when she didn’t. “Actually what?”

Manon hesitated, taking a deep breath and sighing. “Could you help me? With the carving?”

A part of Dorian wanted to smile and be smug about it, but he knew that if he did that, Manon would never feel comfortable in asking him for help again. It was an unusual thing, and it filled Dorian’s chest with warmth to know that Manon trusted him enough to be vulnerable around him— even if just a little.

So Dorian smiled softly and assented, walking to her. “Of course I can, baby.”

He sat by her side, taking another pumpkin and helping her carve it. They spent the whole evening doing so, laughing when one messed up. Dorian’s cheeks hurt from smiling when Manon celebrated finally carving one correctly.

Things were good.

And when Dorian looked at Manon’s gorgeous face again, he realized that things were actually great.

.

.

.

.

A/N: This is so small but it’s also my first time writing Manorian so it’s uncharted grounds for me, have patience and let me know if you liked it! Also, if you’re not getting tagged but you’re on the tag list, let me know please!

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @maastrash @queen-of-glass @morganofthewildfire @julemmaes 

[rufousnmacska]

Um hi, hello, I’m just wondering if you cold maybe write a manorian au dance or a ren faire would be fab. Thanks

I lost track of how long this request has been in my drafts, so I’m really sorry it’s taken so long to write. I have a bad habit of starting a fic only to get bogged down about how detailed the plot should be, leaving me not wanting to finish it. I’m not good at just banging out a short story and posting it. But for this one, I tried doing that. I hope you like it anon, if you’re still around!

Full disclosure - I’ve never been to a renaissance faire, though I have friends who sell their pottery at an annual, medieval re-enactment type festival. So, I took what I’ve heard from them and added in a little Medieval Times and Disney World. What I’m saying is, please excuse any egregious mistakes about how these things work :)

Fanfic master list

*****

A Bard’s Tale

The Morath Renaissance Faire was part historical re-enactment, part craft market, part food extravaganza, and all spectacle. It drew visitors from around the continent each summer for the three months it was open. People even came for days at a time, staying at nearby inns so they could enjoy all the faire had to offer.

Owned by Maeve and Erawan Perrington, the faire was known for its summer-long war, pitting bands of warriors against each other in mock campaigns until only one survived, as well as its jousting tournament, where knights did true battle for the honor of being named the Queen’s Knight Commander. The enormous market square sold everything from hand woven clothing, jewelry and adornments, to metalwork, and pottery. The food court had stalls serving street foods of all varieties, and a hall that seated hundreds, where visitors could treat themselves to an authentic seven course medieval dinner. Jesters roamed the streets entertaining children, actors staged scenes of roving bandits stealing from nobility, artists demonstrated their craft, and bards sang songs for spare coins.

While most employees were from the region, some, including most of the artists, came from other towns and countries. To house them, the faire had a sprawling campground filled with brightly colored tents. At night, after the faire grounds were closed, the camp came alive with employees sharing modest dinners and abundant wine, while music played and many danced.

Manon Blackbeak had been selling here for four years. Her shop, The Clay Witch, was situated near the entrance to the market, ensuring she had a good crowd and a view of the jousting arena. With her cousins’ help, Manon did a brisk business. She made pottery the rest of the year, selling most of it here, and her cousins were responsible for the rest: healing teas, fragrant candles, love potions, amulets, and other trinkets of a witchy nature. She wasn’t a people person, so she had a sales assistant named Elide who handled that side of the business. Together with her cousins, they took part in the war, calling their band the Blackbeak Coven. In years past, they’d made it into the final week or two of the campaign, but they’d never won.

Despite her competitiveness, Manon had always been fine with that outcome. While Maeve oversaw the jousting as Queen, Erawan was the King who lead the war. He had a habit of looking at her a little too long, his gaze roaming over her body in a way that made her want to shower it off with scalding hot water. She made sure never to be alone with him, usually finding someplace else she needed to be in order to avoid him.

The whole situation pissed her off. Her pottery studio was in a town a few hours away and this faire had been a great opportunity to build her business. They made good money here, enjoyed themselves in the battles, and had made lifelong friends in the campground. But, she was seriously considering not coming back next year. All because some creepy asshole wouldn’t leave her alone.

As she watched Elide wait on some customers, she grew angrier. Other people depended on her. She knew they’d understand and support her, but not coming back felt as though she’d be letting them down.

Outside, she heard people speaking in loud, reverent tones and knew what time it was, not needing to look at her watch. She contemplated hiding in the back just to see what would happen. But when she caught the first sounds of his voice, she found herself grinning.

At ten o’clock in the morning, every day, Dorian Havilliard made his way to her shop to serenade her, always with a group of adoring fans trailing behind.

It hadn’t taken long for Manon to recognize some of the faces of the people who came back again and again just to watch Dorian perform. He played his part well, flirting and making up spontaneous songs to please his audience. If ever their adoration crossed the line into inappropriateness, he’d break out the charm and shy away, making his discomfort clear. All while still obtaining a sizable tip.

Manon crossed her arms and leaned against the entrance to her booth, watching him approach. He had a preternatural gift for coming up with lyrics and melodies on the spot. She’d never admit it to him, but she’d come to enjoy his morning visits.

As for his nightly visits to her tent, it was impossible for her to hide her appreciation then, much to her annoyance.

This was his first and only summer working at the faire. He’d been dragged along by a friend who was dating a knight. Rowan Whitethorn was Maeve’s nephew and had been crowned her Knight Commander in the jousting arena for three years running. The rumor mill went crazy at the start of this season when he arrived with a girlfriend who was from Terrasen. Aelin brought an entourage with her, a bunch of friends from college who were looking for one last fun summer to tide them over before heading off into the real world in the fall. Chaol worked as a royal guard and his girlfriend, a pre-med major, worked in the first aid clinic that served visitors and employees alike. Aelin’s cousin Aedion had fallen quickly into a warrior group and rose to become their general, while his girlfriend Lysandra worked as a fortune teller. Manon and her cousins, who had known Rowan for years, had met them on the first day and they’d become fast friends.

And then there was Dorian. Who, within the first week of opening, had become the most popular bard at the faire. The center of attention wherever he roamed.

Manon smirked as he stopped a few feet from her. Today, as usual, he wore a well fitting tunic with Intricate embroidery that took the shape of wyverns. Curls that had not been there at the start of the season hung around his ears.

With a deep bow and flourish of his hand, he said, “Good morning Lady. I pray you had a pleasant evening.”

She managed to keep her expression unchanged, even though the memories of last night threatened to turn her face a brilliant red. Gripping the sword that hung at her hip, she said, “Lady? I see no lady here.”

“Ah, but you are a lady. Lady artisan,” he said gesturing to her pottery. “Lady warrior,” a glance to her sword. “And a lady of pure moonlight,” he said, nodding at the long white braid that fell across her shoulder.

Her hair was a constant source of interest for him. She didn’t think it crossed into the realm of being a fetish, but he very much enjoyed pulling it whenever he had the chance. She did too. And she enjoyed seeing his gem like eyes flash when she lifted the braid and wiggled the end at him.

Elide and a couple of customers audibly sighed at his words. Manon whirled and gave her a deadly look, but the young woman just ignored her, watching Dorian begin to play as she placed a hand on her heart. She’d been pushing Manon all summer to go out with Dorian. Wanting to preserve Elide’s innocence, Manon never revealed what happened in her tent most nights. And finally, with that thought, the blood rushed to her cheeks.

He sang a quick tune that compared her beauty to that of the moon, bowed again, and with a wink, he was off. His followers who returned day after day just to see him never seemed to think anything of his daily routine of singing to her. Either they were simply too enchanted by his voice and handsome looks, or they just didn’t care, thinking it was all part of the act, confident he would acknowledge them when he was out of character.

As he made his way towards the market square, Manon caught sight of someone who did notice, and clearly cared.

Maeve watched from across the wide street. Her black eyes held none of the smile that spread across her face, and Manon felt a chill crawl up her spine. She did not like Dorian’s daily ritual of showering Manon with attention. After a moment filled with tension, Maeve turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

Just as her husband gave Manon unwanted attention, Maeve had been doing the same thing to Dorian. He’d mentioned it once or twice, trying to brush it off. But Manon had heard the discomfort in his voice, could see the way he held himself in Maeve’s presence, trying to escape her notice and almost turning to stone when she inevitably did. The other night at one of the bonfires in the camp, someone had teased him about it. Dorian laughed and said after this weekend, he’d never see her again. The comment had hit Manon hard, as she’d realized the same could be said of her. In a matter of days, this season would end and they’d return to their homes on opposite sides of the country. With no reason to ever see each other again.

*****

Managing to escape his fans, Dorian ducked into an alley that led to the back offices. He’d seen Maeve following him this morning, and for the first time all summer, he’d considered not going to Manon’s shop. This was a summer job for him, a one time thing before he started working for his father. But she was an artist whose livelihood depended on events like this. He didn’t want to risk getting her in trouble because the owner had some kind of sick crush on him. The season was winding down and this weekend would be the last. He only needed to avoid Maeve’s interest for a few more days.

“Ouch! Watch it!”

“You watch it! Big oaf. No one told you to do tricks on your horse while you were jousting.”

Stopping at the door to the first aid clinic, Dorian found Yrene examining Lorcan, one of the knights who competed in the arena. Like the other jousters, the guy was huge, and Dorian couldn’t help but admire Yrene for not taking any shit from him. Lorcan spotted him watching from the entrance and rolled his eyes.

With his elaborate costumes, zealous following, and natural charm, Dorian was not the most popular of people among the warriors at the faire. He got along well with Rowan and Fenrys, but some of the others looked down at him for his portrayal of the flirty bard. He suspected it had more to do with the tips he made, money that he didn’t need due to his family’s wealth. Chaol and Yrene were the only ones who knew he’d be donating all of it to charity at the end of the season.

Yrene lifted Lorcan’s arm, moving his shoulder around in the socket despite his grimace and stifled groans of pain. “You’ve definitely torn something,” she said, pushing into his joint with her small fingers. “You’ll need to get an X-ray.”

“You can’t just put it in a sling? So I can joust on Sunday?” he asked, relieved when she let go of him, only to wince again when his arm landed in his lap.

With a scathing look that made Lorcan recoil slightly, she said, “If you want to damage it further, sure. I could do that. And then you’ll definitely need surgery. As it is, you might get away with some physical therapy. Which will not be fun. But if you continue jousting, you’re looking at hospital time.”

“Shit,” he said, dropping his head into his good hand. “It’s the finals this weekend. Maeve is going to kill me. After she fires me.”

Not wanting to hang around and interrupt her work, Dorian quickly asked, “Any idea where Chaol is right now?”

Yrene shrugged as she pulled a sling out of a supply cabinet. “Maybe near the battlefield? He mentioned they needed extra help setting some things up for this weekend.”

“Thanks,” he said. Then to Lorcan, “Good luck, man.”

“Yeah,” Lorcan replied, sounding utterly defeated and giving Dorian an odd look. “Thanks.” It was the tone, the actual gratitude in the word, that made Dorian realize the look was one of kindness. At least, Lorcan’s version.

Sneaking along the paths he used to stay away from the crowds, Dorian emerged near the stands overlooking the battlefield. This Saturday the two armies that had survived the summer would face each other for one final battle.

Maeve had been smart to set things up this way, making the war and jousting into a months long competition, ensuring a build up of fans and repeat visitors. She had a good mind for business, he just wished she’d stop leering at him.

Even if he wasn’t focused entirely on Manon, there was no way he’d involve himself with Maeve. There was a darkness surrounding her that reminded him of a spider, weaving an intricate web to control everyone around her, and disposing of those who resisted her manipulations.

Though he had never spoken to the man, Dorian had heard her husband was just as creepy. One night at the camp, his name had been mentioned, causing Manon to visibly shudder. She clearly didn’t like the guy, and that was enough for Dorian to dislike him too.

As he sat and watched Chaol and some warriors setting up the dais that would hold the royal thrones for the final battle, Dorian wondered if he was making the right decision for this fall. His father had demanded he come work for the family company. That Dorian had refused to get a business degree meant little to the man. He would see his son replace him as CEO whether Dorian liked it or not.

As it always did when he thought about his future, his mind eventually traveled back to Manon. This summer had been amazing, due in large part to her. She’d captured his heart from the first day. It took a full week of songs before she showed up at his tent one night. After that, he’d waited. Waited for that look she’d give him at the end of the night, when the bonfire was burning down and the camp was growing quiet. The look that said the song he’d written for her that morning had left her wanting him. The look that invited him back to her tent where they’d stay up too late, making love and playing question and answer games, the easiest way to get her to talk about herself.

Gods, how was he supposed to say goodbye to her in just a few days?

They had not spoken of it, neither one wanting to bring up what they both knew was coming. It wasn’t like they’d never be able to see each other again. But there was a weird sense of finality to the end of the faire season. The end of this crazy, fun summer. The end of their late night dalliances. The end of their late night talks, which he would honestly miss the most.

His bench sagged as Chaol sat down heavily beside him, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Ready for lunch?” Dorian asked, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt.

Chaol sighed, tired from helping to build the dais with a half day’s work still to come. “Yeah. Was Yrene busy?”

They stood and began to walk towards the food stalls. “Lorcan got injured. She might be done, but I doubt it.”

“Shit,” Chaol said, stopping in the middle of the street. “Will he be able to joust on Sunday?”

“Doesn’t look like it. At least, Yrene said no. Why? What’s the big deal?”

"He’s supposed to go up against Rowan in the final. Lorcan is the only real competition Rowan has. I overheard Erawan talking about the possibility of this final weeks ago. They’ve been hyping it up to the fans.”

Dorian shrugged. He didn’t pay attention to the jousts or the war standings. Especially once the Blackbeak Coven was defeated last week. Manon had been disappointed, but also oddly relieved.

“You don’t get it,” Chaol continued. “Maeve and Erawan are going to be pissed.”

That made Dorian smile. “Good. Maybe she’ll leave me alone then.”

*****

Sunday came with beautiful weather and a crowd that was electric with anticipation. Yesterday’s final battle, won in an impressive fashion by Aedion’s troops, had drawn record numbers of spectators. Maeve and Erawan had sat on their thrones, overseeing everything with bored faces and an air thick with arrogance. Most of the employees knew how little they were acting, but the viewers ate it up.

Today was the final of the jousting tournament. Being easier to follow from the stands, it was more popular than the war re-enactment. This year’s finalists promised to put on a good show. Until Lorcan injured his shoulder in his semifinal against Fenrys. He’d still managed to win, knocking Fenrys off his horse out of sheer spite, sending him to the final against Rowan.

When it was announced he couldn’t compete, Maeve had gone ballistic. Apparently, she’d destroyed her office, leaving a mess of papers, a cracked laptop screen, and a broken chair. Erawan had kept his cool, though a few twitches of his black eyes spoke volumes about his inner state of mind. Everyone assumed Fenrys would be given Lorcan’s place. But the notice board outside the arena had remained blank after Rowan’s name - The White Hawk vs.___

Last night, the talk around camp was all about who she would name to joust against Rowan, with some joking that she’d make Erawan do it. Rowan had seemed to welcome the chance to knock the bastard onto his back. Maeve was his aunt, but there’d never been any friendship between them. He worked here because he loved it. And now that he loved Aelin, it grew more and more likely that this might end up being his last year.

As people milled about in her shop, Manon felt a strange anxiety wash over her. Muscles tense, goose flesh rising up her arms, she looked out into the street expecting to see Erawan there. But it was just regular visitors making their way through the market, noisy and excited.

Slowly, she realized what felt off. The voices of the crowd had never been louder than Dorian’s voice. She looked at her watch and felt her stomach flip. 10:24.

He was never late. Never.

Just then, she heard commotion from the jousting arena. Over the heads of the crowd, she could just make out Asterin’s blond hair as her cousin waved for her to come over.

Pushing through the people, she found not only Asterin but Chaol and Aelin too, all three standing in front of the notice board, staring up at it in shock.

Just as she never had to check her watch for Dorian’s arrival, Manon didn’t have to read the board to know who Rowan’s opponent was. Instead of flipping, her stomach turned to stone and sank.

The White Hawk vs. The Black Bard

“That fucking bitch,” Aelin whispered.

Manon grit her teeth, her hands shook and she was too angry to even speak.

“Where is he?” Asterin asked.

Chaol shrugged, also unable to speak, too horrified with concern for his best friend.

Fenrys ran up suddenly, almost knocking them all over. “It was Erawan,” he said, breathless. “Some sick game between him and Maeve.”

Manon forced herself to swallow, to breath, to not go scratch that bastard’s hellish eyes from their sockets. “Why didn’t Dorian just tell him no?”

“I don’t know,” Fenrys said. “They must have forced him somehow.”

Asterin turned to Manon and they shared a look. The only way to make Dorian agree to this was if Manon had been threatened in some way.

“Rowan won’t hurt him,” Aelin said confidently.

Finally, Chaol spoke. “Maybe not on purpose! Dorian’s never ridden a horse. Rowan can deliberately miss him and he could still fall off and get trampled.”

“Shit.” Asterin and Fenrys said at the same time.

The sound of trumpets wailed and people began rushing to get into the stadium. As the others debated what to do, Manon took off, ducking beneath the stands to get to the fence that surrounded the jousting yard. It felt like time slowed down, and when she finally reached an opening with a view to the field, the announcer was already calling out the competitors names.

There, at the far end, sitting precariously on the back of a black stallion, was Dorian. Clad in black armor, the counterpoint to Rowan’s bright silver, he struggled to hold the lance steady. Dorian was muscled and strong, but this was a skill he had no experience with. Holding a lance properly took practice.

Rowan, atop his white horse, was within shouting distance. Manon called to him, but he didn’t hear her over the crowd’s cheers and the helmet he wore. She kept calling for him, only stopping when she glanced at the royal box. There, Maeve sat, stone faced and angry, glaring straight ahead. Next to her, wearing the tacky fake crown he sported everywhere on the grounds, was Erawan.

Manon wasn’t surprised to feel his eyes on her, his slimy stare making her feel as if she might vomit.

Just as she tried to get Rowan’s attention one last time, the trumpets blared and the horse reared and took off, thundering down the field towards Dorian.

*****

Dorian kicked at his horse, hoping that would get it to move. If it had been up to him, he would have simply sat here, letting Rowan charge and knock him off with his first pass. Hell, if it had been up to him, he’d be in the fucking stands.

But no. Erawan had stopped him early that morning, offering him the chance to joust. When Dorian had laughed in his face, Erawan had made it clear that it really wasn’t an offer.

He’d seen the way his wife looked at Dorian, knew that there was something going on between them, knew that Dorian’s protestations were lies. Erawan had insisted that If Dorian refused, the bard’s paramour would be punished.

Dorian had stopped laughing then. They both knew he had never been with Maeve. And somehow, Erawan had found out about him and Manon.

“I own this town,” Erawan had said. “There is nothing you can do. If you run, I will find her.” He’d clapped Dorian on the back as if they were friends. “What do you say young bard?”

Dorian had nodded numbly, agreeing to put on a show, make it look real, and not throw the match.

So now, here he was. However many tons - did horses weigh tons? - of animal rushing towards him, Rowan’s white tipped lance leading the way.

Fuck it, he thought, giving the horse’s side another kick. The beast reared slightly then hit the ground running.

Dorian just barely managed to hang on to the reins as he wobbled in the saddle. His lance almost slid from his grip, almost landed tip down in the earth, threatening to propel him into the air like an acrobat. At the last second before catastrophe, he got it under control, just as Rowan’s lance grazed his side, going wide of a strike. The crowd cheered, and though his helmet muffled the sound, he knew it was deafening for the people in the arena.

Their horses continued running until they were on opposite ends. Some lackey of Erawan’s came running out, pretending to offer him advice or assistance. Dorian ignored him, trying to focus on holding the lance up to the proper height. By the time he got it wedged under his arm, the horn sounded and his horse took off, unprompted.

He was able to hold the lance up the whole way, but he almost fell off the horse. For the second time, Rowan’s attempt missed. Dorian knew it was on purpose, and he was grateful. But the way the crowd had begun laughing was honestly starting to piss him off. He knew he couldn’t win. He just wanted to survive. But his pride was beginning to surge enough to overtake his fear.

The third run had the same result as the first two. Rowan missed, Dorian clung to the saddle and the lance and didn’t die. The horse guy came out again, seeming to adjust some of the straps. Dorian watched to make sure he didn’t actually loosen anything, and the guy gave him a nod.

Thinking someone was calling his name, Dorian twisted around to find Manon leaning over the fence, wild-eyed and desperate to get his attention. He lifted his visor and winked at her. The gesture appeared to make her angry and she shouted again but the words were lost to the crowd.

Hoisting the lance up and securing it under his arm, the reins tight in his hand, Dorian was ready for the horn this time. The horse pounded down the yard and time seemed to slow to a trickle. He felt every hoof beat, heard every puff of air from the horse’s mouth, saw the silver armor getting closer and closer. At the last second, before squeezing his eyes shut, he angled the lance towards that flash of silver.

The force of the impact threw him back in the saddle. His feet remained in the stirrups though, leaving him arched awkwardly on top of the horse. Pain radiated up his arm like a wave until the entire thing went numb and he had no idea if he was still holding the lance. With a grunt, he forced himself upright into a sitting position. The horse came to a stop and pawed at the ground, as if in celebration.

The applause and cheers hit him almost as hard as the blow he’d administered to Rowan. Looking down to where he still somehow held the lance, then turning in the saddle to see Rowan pushing himself up from the dirty ground, Dorian slowly realized that he had won.

*****

Manon was running the second she saw someone made contact. The dust was thick and she couldn’t see what had happened. At the sight of a riderless white horse trotting towards her, she sped up, almost tripping over Rowan, who laid sprawled on the ground. His helmet had come off and he had a big grin on his face.

When she reached Dorian, he was sliding off the horse, the weight of his armor pulling him down faster than he could handle. She caught him just before he could land on his ass. Propping him against the stallion, she tore the helmet from his head and yelled, “What the fuck were you thinking? You could have been killed!”

Dorian, a little dazed, a little breathless, said nothing. He pulled her close and kissed her.

The crowd erupted, roaring their approval and chanting his name. “Black Bard! Black Bard! Black Bard!”

Yrene came over with a small medical bag, but Dorian waved her off, then went back to kissing Manon. When he let go, she stumbled backwards, still clutching his armor. His horse was strutting around them, loving the attention, while flowers rained down around them from the stands.

It was tradition for the victorious knight to gather the flowers and present them to Maeve; the Knight Commander honoring his queen. But Dorian had not been aware of the tradition. And she knew he wouldn’t have done it anyway.

Manon watched as he bent down, slowly so as not to fall over, and picked up a handful of poppies and daisies and whatever other blooms had been tossed onto the field. Dropping heavily to a knee, he smiled brightly and offered her the prize of wildflowers.

She shook her head, unable to keep the grin from her own face. Taking the flowers, she bent to kiss him, but he pulled her down onto her knees.

“I don’t think I can stand up,” he confessed against her lips.

Manon laughed and went right on kissing him. The cheers turned to a loud buzz in their ears that they ignored along with everything else.

Eventually, Rowan appeared, offering his hand to Dorian, both in acknowledgement of a well fought match, and to help him up. Manon moved to leave but Dorian refused to let go of her hand. She was glad for it, and gripped it tightly when she remembered Maeve and Erawan in their viewing box.

The two “royals” looked anything but. Maeve clapped in a meager attempt to save face at Dorian’s insult with the flowers. And Erawan glared at them both, his hate for them rising off his skin like heat in a desert.

Dorian squeezed her hand and Manon remembered why they were out here, why Dorian had risked his life.

“I know why you did this,” she said. “I wish you would have found me first.”

“What would you have done?”

She smirked. “I would have sliced him up with my sword.”

"My lady warrior,” he said, his face dropping with exhaustion as the adrenaline wore off.

“My bard in shining armor.” She caressed his cheek and he turned to kiss her palm. “Do you really have to go back to Rifthold?”

It was the first either one had spoken of what would happen tomorrow. She knew this wasn’t the time or the place, but something inside her needed it to be. She needed to know that she’d see him again. She needed-

“I’m going wherever you are,” he said simply, as if there had never been any question.

Manon smiled softly in answer, wrapping her arm around his waist to support him off the field.

*****

The next summer, without its star in the jousting arena, the Morath Renassaince Faire saw a marked drop in attendance.

Rowan had joined his new wife in Terrasen, telling his aunt to shove it. He’d taken several of the other jousters with him, leaving them one main attraction. Cairn didn’t last long however, as no horses would allow him in their saddle.

Other parts of the faire suffered too. Without the Clay Witch selling her wares, and no all-female warrior band fighting in the war, interest waned. Artists began to close their shops. Re-enactors and food vendors found other venues.

It was as if Rowan’s departure doomed the faire. And within another year, it did just that. Maeve and Erawan closed the faire and moved away, leaving the structures empty.

The town lost business, but like others who had dealt with the Perringtons in one way or another, they were glad to see the couple gone.

But the locals still spoke of that final good year. The year when a hapless, yet handsome, bard bested the reigning Knight Commander in the jousting tournament. How he knocked the White Hawk from his horse, winning in one pass. And how he spurned the evil queen and won the heart of a witch instead.

*****

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[blackhavilliard]

MODERN MANORIAN AU - Royals Magazine

I’ve had this idea in my head for sooooo long and I FINALLY got a chance to sit down and put it together. So without further ado, I present a little sneak peek of our King and Queen in their modern splendidness...

Set: Modern AU, a few years after the events of Kingdom of Ash Format: Magazine interview Release: Tumblr and Archive of Our Own (keep posted!)

Royals Winter Issue featuring King Dorian Havilliard and interviewed by Lysandra Ennar. King Dorian Havilliard has settled into the role of rebuilding Adarlan from the geopolitical crisis that once threatened the entire continent of Erilea. Now, years after the passing of the storm, the young king finds himself reflecting on the traumas of his young life but also of the joys he’s found as a beloved ruler, husband, and ally of the great kingdoms of Erilea.

Royals Spring Issue featuring Queen Manon Blackbeak-Crochan and interviewed by Dorian Havilliard. Manon Blackbeak-Crochan has done the seeming impossible - uniting two warring nations of one blood under one queen. As High Queen of the Witches, the young ruler continues to revolutionise the status quo as she attends her queenly duties in the reconciliation of the Ironteeth and the Crochan nations whilst serving as Adarlan’s aerial commanding consultant.

Dedicating to my manorian trash fandom and to @rufousnmacska because your manorian fics give me life! (Also please send me some more, fellow manorian lovers, seriously!) ILY