When dark forces threaten, the leaders of Erilea must come to aid in yet another war to save their world. The problem is that Manon barely survived the hell that was the last war, and she can't go through it again.
Words: 3.1K | Masterlist | AO3 Link
«Tell me.» Manon ordered as she marched into the throne room, having landed in Orynth mere minutes ago. Abraxos had flown like the wind itself to get them here as soon as possible.
«Nice to see you too,» Aelin drawled from her throne, but her eyes lacked their usual sparkle. The room was filled with the rest of her court, and a few other leaders from Erilea’s kingdoms, including one blue-eyed king.
«I don’t have time for this. Tell. Me.» Manon wasn’t known to be polite, even on her good days, but her heart had been racing ever since she’d received word of a new, rising threat causing her presence to be needed in Orynth immediatley, and she couldn’t think clearly when she was fighting the panic rising within her.
Not another war. Please, not another war.
«A few days ago, a portal opened, right outside of Orynth. A young female came from it, fae, frantic, begging us in the old language to help her people against these god-like creatures.» Aelin drew a shaking breath, Rowan placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
«We know them better as the valg.»
Manon’s ears started ringing, images of collars and cold, empty eyes appearing in her mind. Of her sisters disappearing in blinding flashes of light, one by one.
She could only half-listen as Aelin explained how she’d seen this world before, when she fell through the wyrdgates, how the valg they had defeated seemed harmless in comparison to these beings that could drain whole worlds of all life, how they had tried to drain this world before, and only gotten stronger since then, how they would eventually come back.
«But not if we help them.» It was Dorian that spoke this time, and Manon would be lying if she said his voice didn’t affect her any bit.
«No.» Manon hardly needed to think. There was no way she was doing this again. She’d barely survived the last war, was barely surviving now.
Aelin stared at her in shock. Manon couldn’t blame her. They didn’t know she was merely a ghost of who she used to be.
«You closed the gates. Our world can’t be reached,» Manon tried, but it sounded pathetic, desperate.
«She managed to reach us,» Aelin whispered. «Please.»
«No.»
She could feel a pair of sapphire eyes boring into her, and when she turned to look at him, Dorian’s face was full of hurt and betrayal. «Manon-»
«No.» Dorian could hate her all he liked, as long as it meant he was safe. Because how could she explain that just thinking about another war nearly made her suffocate?
The king gave her a long look, before turning on his heel and storming out.
-
Manon flung the door open, moving into the room where she knew the king would be. «You’re not doing this either. You’re not throwing yourself into this war.»
Dorian held her gaze for a long moment before he finally spoke, his face unreadable. «If you don’t want to fight with us, fine, there’s nothing I can do, apart from getting on my knees and begging, but I’m leaving, whether you like it or not. I refuse to see this world be destroyed after everything we did to save it.»
When Manon didn’t answer, he turned his back to her, stepping towards the tall window overlooking the gardens. «There’s nothing left for us to discuss, then.» The words were a dismissal, a cue for Manon to leave, and they left a stinging sensation in her heart.
Everything would have been a lot easier if she could leave, but she couldn’t. Not until she’d won this fight.
Over by the window, Dorian’s jaw tightened with suppressed anger, still not looking at her. A thin layer of frost began covering the glass as she just stood there, remaining silent.
What was there to say, anyway? That in the past two years, she could count on one hand the amount of times she’d gotten a good night’s sleep? That every time she closed her eyes, she saw her sisters racing towards their deaths, leaving her behind? That when the nightmares were at their worst, Dorian joined them?
The truth was that Manon was hanging on by a thread, barely keeping her pain and despair hidden.
She needed to say something, though, because she had seen this determination in Dorian before, right before he’d flown off to Morath, fully prepared to sacrifice himself if it meant saving everyone else.
And it was at the memory of waking up alone in a cold tent, terrified, but also so angry, that Manon regained her ability to speak.
«Dorian, please-»
She blinked, and the ice that had slowly been creeping over the window evaporated. Dorian’s head snapped up, and he looked as if she’d struck him. The voice she’d just used hadn’t fully sounded like her own, so raw and full of anguish.
«I can’t-» Manon began, but that voice failed her, her words ending in a hitch of breath. Tears were pressing behind her eyes, dangerously close to shedding.
«You can’t what?» Dorian asked her then, the question so careful, so far from the resolve he’d showed mere moments ago.
She couldn’t do this, was what, Manon thought to herself, but she was about to rupture, about to shatter into a million little pieces she had fought tooth and nail to hold together for the past two years.There was no power in any realm that could stop it, and Dorian would bear witness to it.
«Witchling…» Dorian whispered, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He was so close now, and to her shock, Manon realized she was the one who’d moved closer, craving the comfort of his arms.
«I can’t go through it again. Dorian, please don’t-»
She drew a shuddering breath, but she couldn’t seem to get any air into her lungs. Closing her eyes, Manon let the dam break.
«I can’t… I can’t lose more of the people I love when I barely have anyone left! I’m terrified, every fucking second of every fucking day that you’ll fly off on some suicide mission again because you have this insane idea that you need to sacrifice yourself to save everyone else, and I can’t do it, Dorian! I can’t lose-»
She practically screamed it at the king, hitting his chest as the words ended in choked sobs.
Dorian didn’t say anything as he grabbed hold of her arms, then pulled her close. Manon kept heaving, feeling as if she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs, her vision clouded by tears
«Breathe, Manon. Just breathe.» Dorian’s hands moved up and down her back in a soothing motion, taking deep breaths alongside her. «In,» she tried inhaling with him, getting a little more air, «and out.»
They stood there for what felt like forever, Dorian whispering quiet encouragements, stroking her back, until Manon’s heart finally calmed a little, her breaths becoming more steady.
Manon looked up at Dorian, giving him a wordless thank you. In return, he gave her a soft smile, and Manon was so grateful that he always seemed to know what she tried to communicate, even when she couldn’t find the right words.
Suddenly, his eyes widened, if only slightly, as if he realized something.
«Did you just tell me you love me?» Dorian held her gaze, and part of her wanted to pull away at the intensity of it, but those sapphire eyes had her hypnotized.
His voice was barely above a whisper, but Manon could hear the disbelief, the hope. It was enough to halt her crying, to make her forget, for a moment, that they were actually in the middle of a very important argument.
«That was what you got out of this? Of course I fucking love you, you complete idiot! Are you-»
She knew she sounded hysteric, but before she could finish her sentence, Dorian caught her lips with his.
The kiss was hungry, all-consuming, saying all the words neither of them could voice.
Manon answered with that same desperate hunger, the salt of her tears mixing with a familiar taste that could only be described as Dorian.
She needed to be even closer to him, lose herself in the pleasure only he could give her, but Dorian pulled away, panting. His hands cupped her face, and Manon felt the soft caress of an invisible finger move across her lips.
He looked almost wild, and his eyes were stormy as he spoke in a low and raspy voice. «I love you too, Manon. You have no idea how-»
This time, she was the one who pounced, lips crashing against his. If their former kiss was hungry, this one was ravenous. She opened herself up to him, his tongue entering her mouth. She sucked on it, and a low noise came from his throat. His hands moved down, down, to cup her ass, and she grabbed the opportunity to wrap her legs around his waist.
Dorian started walking them towards the bed, meanwhile Manon kissed a trail across his jaw, down his throat, letting her teeth graze over his pulse point. She could feel him growing harder and harder against her, and her core throbbed in answer, needing to be filled.
As he reached the bed, Dorian carelessly tossed her onto it, immediately going to work on removing her clothes. His phantom hands started pulling off her trousers, while Dorian unlaced her shirt. He reached a hand inside to cup one of her breasts, brushing a finger over an already peaked nipple. Manon moaned, urging him to just take the damn shirt off.
He obeyed with a dark chuckle, but he was still too clothed in Manon’s opinion. Dorian stepped out of his own pants, while Manon, ever so impatient, simply ripped his shirt in half.
«What if I really liked that shirt?» Dorian teased, but Manon didn’t have time for his usual swagger. Letting out a near-feral growl, she reached for him, pulling him closer.
They were both naked now, and Manon claimed his mouth in a rough kiss whilst one of her hands moved downwards, grabbing his hard cock. She gave it a firm stroke once, twice, and Dorian groaned before he pushed her back down on the bed, beginning to kiss a trail down her neck, over her breasts, down-
«Inside me. Now.»
Manon grabbed his hair and pulled him back up to her mouth. She was already dripping wet, her cunt begging for him to fill her with his impressive length.
Invisible hands snaked up her legs, spreading them, and then Dorian lined himself up, filling her in one long, glorious stroke. She moaned at the tight fit, at the bolts of pleasure shooting up her spine.
Dorian panted, burying his head in the crook of her neck. His lips found her pulse, and he sucked right as he started moving inside her.
Manon held him tightly, clawing at his back as he slammed to the hilt over and over again, hitting that sweet spot deep inside her. She lifted her hips to meet his strokes, and the new angle pulled an almost animalistic noise out of her as he brushed against her clit.
Already, she could feel that great wave rising, that blissful release beckoning. Dorian was close too, judging by the way he was panting, his rhythm faltering. He lifted his head and his eyes locked onto hers. Gold meeting sapphire. She couldn’t have looked away even if she wanted to. It was hypnotizing.
They were both desperate, two souls trying to get as close to each other as possible.
«Say that you’re mine,» Dorian growled, a low noise coming from his throat as Manon tightened her legs around him.
«I’m yours,» Manon moaned, unable to even identify all the emotions she was feeling in this moment.
«You’re mine.»
«I’m yours.»
Then he brought his thumb down on her clit, and that great wave crashed over her.
Manon screamed with pleasure, but the sound was muffled as Dorian’s mouth crashed into hers. He thrust into her hard, she could feel his cock throb inside her, could feel her cunt gripping him tight, and as she bit down on his lower lip, he followed her over the edge with a scream of his own.
-
«I’ll fight with you,» Manon said at last, looking up from where she was nestled against Dorian’s chest. A phantom hand was tracing circles on her upper thigh, but she was so exhausted the motion was more soothing than arousing. «I’ll ask my people, too, but I won’t force anyone, not after all they’ve been through.»
Dorian seemed to think for a moment. «I won’t pretend I’m not glad you’ll fight with us though I do feel a bit guilty.» He winced as he said that last part.
Manon touched her fingers to his lips, as if memorizing their shape. «You shouldn’t,» she said, not meeting his eyes. «Part of me knew from the beginning this was the right thing to do, I was just too much of a coward to admit it.»
«Look at me.» He grabbed her chin, tilting her face upwards. «You’re not a coward. You are so strong, Manon, and we’ve hardly had time to catch our breath since the last war, in which you went through hell. Not wanting to go through that again doesn’t make you weak, it just makes you…» he trailed off, looking for the right word.
«Human?» Manon suggested with a small laugh.
Dorian smiled. «In lack of a better term, yes.»
She remembered a different time, when being called human had been the greatest insult there was, when it had been beaten into her, time and time again, that caring made her weak. That love was for foolish cowards. It pleased her to know that in the end, her grandmother had lost that battle too.
Closing her eyes, Manon whispered, «I’m just so tired of being afraid all the time.» Another tear slipped free, but Dorian wiped it away quickly. She buried her head in his chest as she started crying once more, the sobs silent this time. Dorian only held her tighter, as she shook, stroking her hair.
Two years ago, Manon never would have allowed herself to show this much emotion, to even feel this much emotion, but she was weary, both body and soul, and she couldn’t keep fighting any longer.
«It will get better. I promise.»
One day, she vowed to herself, even if that wasn’t today, Manon would believe him.
«And I am sorry for how I left things when I went to Morath.»
«It was crucial-» Manon began, but Dorian halted her, needing to finish his apology.
«I agree, it was crucial to winning the war, but I could have gone about it differently. You laid yourself bare in front of me, and in response, even when I knew how difficult that must have been for you, I left in the dead of night without a word. For that, I am sorry.»
Manon held his gaze, something settling within her at the words she’d unknowingly needed to hear.
«For what it’s worth, if you had woken me up to say goodbye, I probably would have followed you. I nearly did, actually, no matter how furious I was.»
«I’m surprised you didn’t propose this time, to get me to stay,» Dorian mused, a hint of teasing in his voice.
Feeling a smile tugging at her lips, Manon replied, «That plan didn’t work, if you don’t remember.»
«Maybe I’ve changed my mind since then.» He was clearly toying with her, but it made Manon feel a little lighter inside, so she decided to play along.
«You survive whatever hell we’re about to throw ourselves into, and I’ll propose again. I’ll get a ring and everything.» Manon punctuated the words with a trail of kisses down the hard planes of his stomach.
«Deal. You survive, and I promise I’ll say yes this time,» Dorian murmured, his hands going to her hair as she reached his cock, the length hardening once more.
Holding his gaze, Manon let out a breathless «Deal.»
-
«Do you want to know what I’m fighting for?» Dorian asked, his fingers not halting their soothing motions. Manon merely hummed in answer, both of them completely spent, physically and emotionally, after three more rounds.
«I’m fighting for a future where we can spend days in bed like this, just the two of us, no interruptions, whether that be annoying council members or impending doom.»
Manon snorted at that, and wasn’t that exactly why she loved him so much? Only Dorian could make her laugh at a time like this.
«But there won’t be a world for us to do that in if we do nothing.»
His words made Asterin’s voice echo inside Manon.
Live, Manon. Live.
And she would. She would take up this fight, join this war, so that she could one day simply live. She owed her cousin that much.
«Should we tell the others?» Something had straightened within her, and her voice sounded stronger, even if she didn’t move from her spot halfway on top of Dorian.
«In the morning. We both need to sleep, and I selfishly want us to stay in our own bubble a little longer.» Manon felt him sigh, and she looked up at him once more, holding his gaze as she brushed his hair out of his face.
«In the morning, then.»
Because the king was right, they needed to sleep. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy, though inside, she felt like a great weight had been lifted off her.
Bringing her face closer to his, she mouthed those three wondrous words against his lips, before claiming them. Right now, they could pretend they had all the time in the world.
«I love you too,» Dorian murmured in between lazy, unhurried kisses.
When they settled at last, Manon was tucked against his side, head resting over his heart, its steady beat a soothing lullaby. The last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep, was Dorian pressing a kiss to her forehead.
And that night, no nightmares of the past haunted her. Instead, she dreamt of the future, of clear skies with wyverns flying over head, of lazy mornings spent in bed, of being woken up by a pair of small feet running down the hall and wide, blue eyes and a mess of white curls looking up at her.
Manon would claw her way to that future if she had to.
Because they would win this war, they had to, and then she would finally allow herself to live.
A/N:
my will to live currently depends on us getting a glimpse of the throne of glass gang, especially manorian, in cc3:) we will get a book about them one day!! stay clowning fellow manorians<3<3
anyway, i rarely have the time to write anymore, because uni means you actually have to do schoolwork:( i should study for my chemistry exam rn, but i wanted to procrastinate, so i wrote fanfiction instead, you're welcome:):)
Another entry for @throneofglassmicrofics! Third fic, it's fun. It's a tiny bit over a thousand words. Thanks @timesconvert for choosing the prompt for me again!
Prompt: Chaos
Words: 1.1k
“Hello and welcome to my home!” the queen of Terrasen announced as if it was the first time anyone of the gathered group had stepped foot into her palace. It was the usual group, Aelin, Rowan, Fenrys, Aedion, Lysandra, Elide, Lorcan, Chaol, Yrene, himself and Manon. Although Dorian supposed he was surprised that the witch queen had shown up. This wasn't an official meeting, she didn't have any obligation to be here. The invite quite literally said, Game night, Orynth, wear something comfortable. - Aelin Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen. It was so Aelin that Dorian had laughed upon scanning the letters for the first time.
Maybe Manon wasn't here because she wanted to be but because she needed to. Not out of obligation but to forget the 12 missing people that should be shadowing her at home. Witches that gave their life to win the war, to turn the battle to their favor, to save the last crochan queen.
Dorian turned his attention back to Aelin, who now had gained a mischievous glint in her turquoise eyes. “This, I have planned for quite some time. This, I have sent my staff home for. Paid leave, of course.” she rubbed her hands, flipping her golden braid over her shoulder. “Hide and seek in the dark, it's exactly what it sounds like. In a few moments rowan will blow out the candles in this room, the last ones that are lit in the castle, then you have sixty seconds to find a hiding spot, anywhere you want. Fenrys looks first,” the wolf shifter grinned, sizing them all up. He probably volunteered to be the first seeker. “...everyone who's found becomes a seeker. You can run, you can't use your powers. You're only found if someone tapped you, so it's basically tag, too.” Aelin looked at them, looking them all in the eyes. “Are you ready?”
Everyone murmured their agreement, Elide looking excitedly into the round, Lysandra crossing her arms and bumping Aedion with her shoulder, murmuring something inaudible.
“My love, “ Aelin said, looking up at her mate. Just then Rowan's features softened. “Let the games begin!”
With a wave of his hand, a wind fluttered through the room, extinguishing every candle one by one. As soon as the last candle went out, the room was dark because every curtain in this room, presumably in all the rooms, was drawn closed and the clock ticked near midnight.
“One!” Fenrys called out and feet started shuffling all around him. Dorian hurried to the closest door, which luckily had the least furniture in the way, out into the corridor. He had a vague idea where the staircase was and he walked there, as fast as he could in pure darkness.
He heard others far away, thumps followed by curses and giggles and insults. This would be fun.
Finally, he found the archway that led to the stairs and followed the steps upward, he didn't care how loud he was yet, not as Fenrys announced, “Fifteen!”. It would be harder to navigate upstairs but that was the fun of the game. You had no idea where you were, where other hiders were and where the seeker was. No idea where you were walking, what or who you would run into.
Dorian reached the next floor, running forward until he ran straight into a wall. Biting back a curse, he let the wall lead him to the right. He didn't open the first door, nor did he open the second or third. It was the fourth door he decided to slip through. Glad that no one could see him, he stretched his arms out to keep himself from falling over furniture. The room was relatively big, as expected in a palace, but it felt like the furniture was sparse. Good, a guest room then. He felt a dresser, a chair and a few steps farther, a bedpost. He decided to walk left until he met something out of wood, right as Fenrys yelled “Sixty!” through the halls, the words only carrying to Dorian faintly. He ducked beside two wooden objects, crouching and listening.
The palace was dead silent, far away he could hear a clock ticking and the wind howling outside. The darkness was so thick that his eyes barely got used to it. It was curious, he wondered if someone used their powers to make the darkness even thicker but he couldn't remember anyone carrying this power, except him. Although he was far from mastering it.
His thoughts were disturbed by footsteps, coming closer. Very close, too close for Dorian’s liking. He hadn't heard anyone get caught yet and he definitely didn't want to be first. Ultimately, he wanted to win but with Fae warriors who had learned for centuries how to be sneaky, he hadn't found that a realistic expectation. That was future Dorian’s problem though, right now he was just focused on not being the first.
The footsteps stopped close to the door, his heart thumping harder than he expected it to. After moments of silence the footsteps sounded again, louder and faster, as if running and when Dorian listened closer, there was a second set of footsteps with the same rhythm.
He waited at his spot, not knowing how much time went by. At one point, he started counting and stopped at 579 when the door suddenly opened. Holding his breath, he waited for the person to reveal themself. Only when the person was so close that he could hear them breathe, he relaxed.
“Chaol?” he whispered as the usual aftershave his best friend used hit his nostrils.
“Dorian?” Chaol asked, probably wondering where he was but there was a tightness in his voice…
He sighed, “You're a seeker now, aren't you?”
“Yeah,” he said apologetically. “I'm sor–”
But Dorian already bolted forward, stumbling over a chair and throwing it over, not stopping to run to the door. Chaol’s footsteps followed.
Dorian picked up speed, putting as much distance to Chaol as he could, so he hadn't realized a third set that joined suddenly and crashed into a person.
Manon cursed silently, pushing him away.
“Manon!“ Dorian said, “Are you a seeker?”
The witch huffed, “Of course not.“ she replied disgusted, as if the thought that she could be caught never even crossed her mind. “Are you?” She hissed.
“No.” Dorian replied and the word barely left his mouth, her hand wrapped around his wrist and helped him up. Her cool iron nails resed on his warm skin as she pulled him after her, and he let her do so.
Shortly after a door creaked open and Manon practically pushed him in, then she followed. The room was very small, probably something like a cleaning closet. Manon was pressed into him, their breaths intertwining.
“Fancy meeting you here, witchling.” Dorian purred, not being able to hold back in her presence.
He could practically hear the smirk when she replied, “Hello princeling.”
Modern Manorian AU - Royals Magazine - Feature: Dorian Havilliard
And Dorian’s feaure is finally here! Hope you all enjoy it. Manon’s feature is coming afterwards and I’m soooo excited for that ;D
Includes full interview under the cut. Read on AO3 here.
Tagging: @rufousnmacska, @heir2chaos and @gimmedafood (to say thank you for your comment!) Let me know if you want to be included or you can also subscribe on AO3 too :)
In the midst of a geopolitical crisis that had threatened the existence of the realm of Erilea stood a young king bent, broken but unbowed as he raced against time to thwart the enemy that has long kept his father's kingdom and now his own in its shadows. Now, years after the passing of the storm, King Dorian Havilliard II finds himself in reflection of the years lost and the years found as he governs Adarlan in stride.
Since the first appearance of the then heir apparent on the tabloids of the Rifthold Journal in a splendid attire fit for the handsome royal, it was a lascivious rumour of the young prince’s escapades inside the glass palace that permanently marked Dorian as that of an aristocratic hedonist whose existence lived off the extravagance and luxuries of the wealthy, knowing that he could absolutely get away with it.
While Dorian played the game of pomp and distraction amongst celebrity A-listers, prime ministers, and the one percent, a sinister plot by political conspirators had slowly been brewing – the overthrow of the Havilliard bloodline that has governed Adarlan for a thousand generations.
In the highest tower of Rifthold Palace is where Dorian prefers to spend his time perched on a deep-red velvet armchair sipping on a cold glass of what looked to be a fruity beverage as he pores over the latest fiction novel – a pleasure he shares with his dear friend, Queen Aelin of Terrasen. Their shared bookshelf, The Royal Fleetfoot Bookclub (named after Aelin’s beloved golden retriever, a present from the king one Yulemas) is Erilea’s most popular Book Club. And decidedly so.
Dorian’s misplaced faith on his father, then King Dorian Havilliard I, had been his constant companion after his untimely death that led to Dorian’s premature appointment as sovereign. But as the war raged on between the countries of Erilea, the formalities accustomed to a monarch were lost, which ultimately led to Dorian’s displacement from Adarlan. The young king was lost, angry, and untethered as he navigated the political landscape alongside his powerful friends: Queen Aelin of Terrasen, Lord Rowan of Doranelle, Queen Manon of the Wastes, and his closest friend and confidante, Lord Westfall, whom he sent as an envoy to the Khaganate in the Southern Continent. Dorian became known as The King Without a Crown.
Dorian ushers me to a leathered couch next to an occasional table where he pours a cup of brewed tea. He asks if I’d be interested in something stronger and I decline. He winks, a promise of our eventual liquored celebration after the successful sit-down.
King Dorian is charming, refined and a proud intellectual with a taste of an epicurean. Delegates from all over Erilea would comment on the king’s graceful charisma as he fulfilled his role of a sovereign in all its stringent social specifications. It’s as if the dark years of his early adulthood never existed when you’re in his presence. Dorian is adored by the masses and the politicians alike, and it isn’t hard to see why.
While we share a few niceties – he’s become quite a dear friend over the years – you can’t miss the way his sapphire eyes would steal longing glances out the open balcony. One can observe that it overlooks Rifthold Palace’s private airstrip, and soon everything makes more sense.
King Dorian’s wife Queen Manon Blackbeak rules from her kingdom in the Western Wastes, a two-hour plane ride from the Adarlan capital. After settling into their roles as respective monarchs of their kingdoms, the pair continued their relationship, much to delight of the common people, who were far too enamoured by their relationship for it to be considered healthy. No surprises there though. They’re really that pairing that’s pretty much straight out of a YA fantasy novel with their unbelievable good looks, seemingly opposite yet highly complementary personalities and the kind of sexual tension you could only dream of.
Nonetheless, despite the distance and their responsibilities, no one can deny just how smitten the king is of his wife. He assures me, in his usual playful charm, that she’s most likely missing him more than he is. I laugh. Even he doesn’t believe his own lie.
He makes himself comfortable, draping his suit jacket on the back of his armchair as he settles down and shows off his polished Derbys almost as if he’d like to take them off.
LYSANDRA: Should we both take our shoes off? I think we should both take our shoes off.
DORIAN: I thought you’d never ask!
LYSANDRA: I may not be born royal, Your Majesty, but I do know when someone just wants to let loose.
DORIAN: Gods, I want to let loose all the time. Do you think they’ll conspire against me if I do?
LYSANDRA: Judging from your friends in all the high and right places, I’d say there’s a higher chance of Aelin breathing ice than that happening. And even if they tried, I’m sure no one would get past Manon Blackbeak’s wrath.
DORIAN: She’s terrifying, isn’t she?
LYSANDRA: You don’t sound scared of the fact.
DORIAN: Are you scared of your husband, Lady Lysandra?
LYSANDRA: He’s a soft little mushy bear.
DORIAN: Exactly my description of Manon.
LYSANDRA: I really have to ask – for me, for Rowan and for your rabid fans. How did you convince the High Queen of the Witches to get married? Was it ever in the books for you two?
DORIAN: It wasn’t so much as my convincing her as her convincing me.
LYSANDRA: Oh, please.
DORIAN: You’d be surprised to know that she asked me to marry her first. Of course, it was all political expedience at that time coupled with a reasonable amount of care and affection.
LYSANDRA: And you said no?
DORIAN: Not technically.
LYSANDRA: So… technically yes?
DORIAN: I was drunk on self-loathing. I didn’t think I deserved her.
LYSANDRA: Doesn’t love usually overcome these sorts of things?
DORIAN: To some extent. We were at the climax of the war and we both needed to make important decisions for ourselves, for both our kingdoms and for the future we desperately wanted to have. It wasn’t the right time.
LYSANDRA: But you wanted to say yes to her, didn’t you?
DORIAN: Desperately.
LYSANDRA: If it helps, I was really rooting for you both.
DORIAN: So was I.
LYSANDRA: You know, I admit this is quite a treat being your very own interrogator.
DORIAN: Our plans to make Aelin jealous are succeeding.
LYSANDRA: Oh, she'll definitely be furious.
DORIAN: I've always admired her fiery rage. Despite it being extremely dangerous to those unfortunate enough to be close in range.
LYSANDRA: I've had my share of that.
DORIAN: I think we all have.
LYSANDRA: Tell us about Adarlan's relations with Terrasen. Even better, tell us about yours and Queen Aelin's.
DORIAN: It's tabloid worthy.
LYSANDRA: I'm not saying I've read all about it...
DORIAN: I met Celaena first before I met Aelin. And in some ways Aelin also met some counterpart of myself all those years ago. We were young and generally when you’re that young, you’re also that stupid.
LYSANDRA: But isn't it just a perfect time to make mistakes?
DORIAN: Not for a prince. Though, I did not care at that time. Sometimes I still think I don’t. But you want to know about Aelin. One thing, you see her more than I do, and I admit, it does break my heart.
LYSANDRA: Technology helps though, doesn’t it? I can’t remember how many times I’ve interrupted one of your virtual repartees.
DORIAN: She can get quite heated in our discussions. Especially if she has to wait a year or more for the next instalment of a book series.
LYSANDRA: What makes the great King Dorian Havilliard furiously out of element?
DORIAN: The monarchy.
LYSANDRA: Do you ever think back on the good old days?
DORIAN: Mm.
LYSANDRA: What did that consist of for you?
DORIAN: Well, I don’t know if I could really call it the good old days. As heir, I wasted away on frivolity and debauchery. Chaol once remarked on my depravity, and I could have resented him if it hadn’t opened my eyes to the truth.
LYSANDRA: Well, that’s an insight. I noticed the construction of the new palace has been coming along nicely.
DORIAN: It is.
LYSANDRA: The Glass Palace once stood as a symbol of Adarlan’s wealth and power. Now, you’ve opted to modernise the construction except for the addition of the thirteen towers.
DORIAN: The Rifthold Journal has been nagging me about their meaning since the blueprints were made public. They’re relentless.
LYSANDRA: I don’t want to be that friend but I’m dying to know…thirteen? Really?
DORIAN: You caught me.
LYSANDRA: Gods, I knew it. Rowan will have a fit.
DORIAN: As much as I’d like to take credit for being a Royal Romeo (but feel free to use that from now on), they each symbolise an iteration of hope, love and life. Every single one of them deserves their own monument.
LYSANDRA: What a beautiful gesture, Your Majesty. And it’s true. I will never forget them.
DORIAN: Sobering thought for a Yulemas special, isn’t it?
LYSANDRA: More like a winter exclusive, so we’re good there. But speaking of, I do have a serious bone to pick with you, Your Majesty.
DORIAN: Don’t tell me it’s the time I coerced you and Aedion to go on that Giant Swing when we were in Terrasen, is it? If I remembered correctly, you really enjoyed that.
LYSANDRA: We almost died!
DORIAN: And that makes it more exciting, doesn’t it?
LYSANDRA: You’d be surprised at how many people who don’t think of near-death experiences as something exciting.
DORIAN: [laughs] Am I that cruel?
LYSANDRA: Remember that snow leopard bobble head I once gifted you for Yulemas? Remind me again what you did to it, Your Majesty?
DORIAN: It was godsdamned terrifying, Lysandra. Why are the eyes glowing? Why are they glowing green!
LYSANDRA: That was the whole point of Bad Yulemas!
DORIAN: Manon fished it out of the trash anyway. She has it on my side of the bed at the Wastes. Should I be concerned with this friendship?
LYSANDRA: You and Aedion are lucky bastards, Your Majesty.
DORIAN: Touché
Lysandra Ennar is the Lady of Caraverre and the editor for ROYALS magazine.
~
MANON: I don't think this will go well.
DORIAN: You think? I really had to charm my way to do this, you know.
MANON: You charm your way out of everything.
DORIAN: And into things too.
MANON: Your favourite past time.
DORIAN: Are you angry? Here, let me compliment you.
MANON: Dorian...
DORIAN: Witchling.
A sneak peek of the Royals Spring Issue featuring Queen Manon Blackbeak and interviewd by King Dorian Havilliard.
Anon said: Can we get a cute Manorian ice cream date? 😃💜🍦
---
[A Very Manorian Ice Cream Date]
Manon Blackbeak stared and stared at Dorian Havilliard. “You’ve never had ice cream? Like, never never?”
He shook his head. She smiled, looping her arm in his and leading him into the ice cream parlor. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he was lactose intolerant.
Ten minutes later, they were walking down the street, back toward the apartment complex they both lived in. He’d gotten the smallest size available and had them pack on cookie chunks and all kinds of shit to bury the ice cream. And give him something to eat before he found an innocent way to drop the vomit inducing concoction on the ground.
“Can I taste yours?” she asked.
God, yes. “Of course.” Dorian made sure he got a spoonful of actual ice cream and held it out for her. She stared at him while she wrapped her lips around it, and he instantly wondered what it might be like if she wrapped those lips around other things. Other very specific things.
They’d only been dating a few weeks, and they hadn’t made it past the handsy phase of the relationship. He didn’t mind though. He was used to jumping into bed with women and never talking to them every again, but Manon was different. He wanted to sleep with her, but he wanted to wait. Wanted to get to know her first.
“Do you want to try mine?” She held her ice cream cone in front of him. He wanted to try her everything—just not her ice cream.
“Sure.” He licked the tip, slowly, sensuously. She watched his every move. And just before he was going to take an actual bite—oops. “Damn, dropped my ice cream.” Thank fuck! “I’ll just throw this in the nearest trash bin.” He did. Then jogged back to where Manon had perched atop a bench.
“We can share mine,” she said. Dorian smiled, just as the first cramp from the slight amount of dairy he’d consumed hit his stomach. Great.
“That’s okay. You eat it.”
She cocked her head and smirked. “Are you sure? You seemed very skilled in how you use your tongue. To lick things.”
Fuck. Me, he thought. “If you’d like a demonstration…” he raised an eyebrow. She held out her ice cream. He wrapped his hand atop hers on the cone and brought the ice cream to his mouth. He made a show of licking the rim and the center, watching her the whole time. Another cramp rippled through his stomach and he almost gagged at the taste of ice cream.
“You okay?” She looked genuinely concerned.
He let her hand go. And spit into the grass. “I have a confession to make… I’m lactose intolerant.”
She burst out laughing. “Wait, so you agreed to this whole date knowing I wanted to get ice cream? And that you couldn’t eat it?”
He pursed his lips. “You caught me.”
“So you bought an ice cream, with the intention of dropping it? And then licked mine because...you wanted to impress me?”
“It would appear.”
She chuckled to herself, low and sensuously. “And all that stuff with your tongue?”
“Just trying to impress you.” He wrinkled his eyes shut and smiled.
She pat his arm. “Wow, Dorian. I don’t think anyone has ever wanted to go down on me that badly.”
“Do I get an A for effort?”
She leaned in a kissed his cheek. “You’ll get more than that.” His stomach gave a loud, angry growl. He groaned. “But that will have to wait because I think you need to go home.”
“Will you come keep me company? It is sort of your fault.”
“It’s definitely not my fault that you ate something you’re allergic to just to impress me. But I suppose I can come over and lay around with you while you recover.”
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.
I saw your plea for fanfic ideas and immediately hit the ask button.
I beg of you please give us manorian and the thirteen but like happy. This fandom deprives me of happy thirteen content.
Tried for happy and cute while trying to remain true to the characters 🙂
(I liked this, now I wanna do more happy moments with Manorian and the Thirteen)
***
"Neat trick." Asterin said, lying back on her bedroll. She had an arm tucked behind her head as she stared at Dorian.
He was sitting upright, one arm propped on his bent knee while the other swirled in the air, passing various elements around the fire he had created before them.
"I think it would be more interesting were he to set something or someone on fire," Vesta called from the opposite side, staring a little too long at the king before her.
"Yeah, you.” Sorrel grumbled from her place to the left of Asterin, facedown on her bedroll.
A few of the thirteen laughed at that and Vesta flashed a vulgar gesture towards Sorrel, which the third could not see but returned all the same.
Dorian chuckled under his breath, eyes unfocused as he searched for something, or someone, beyond the circle.
Asterin had noted Manon and Dorian's inclination to save space beside one another when it came time for rest early on in their journey, though she never mentioned it to either of them.
He sent a flame careening around the group and Asterin tracked the glow in the rest of the thirteen’s eyes as they followed it.
The king’s gaze shifted back to the forest before his sapphire eyes landed on the fire again.
"How does it work?" Briar, of all people, called out beside Vesta.
She had been sitting crossed-legged with her arms folded, scowling at the king for darkness knew how long. It was a good sign, considering she usually outright glared at outsiders.
"I just will it." Dorian shrugged. "Sounds foolish when I say it, but it's really my only explanation. I tend to think of some of the elements as seasons at times; it helps me focus when I'm training."
The ball of ice circling the group began to grow until it burst into a whisp of fine flakes that scattered in the breeze, though none hit them.
Imogen raised her hand from her bedroll to try and caress them but said nothing, turning her head to face the king from her place beside Sorrel.
"Ice and snow for winter."
"Your personal favorite," Vesta noted gesturing with the blade she had begun sharpening.
Dorian shrugged. "Yes, you could say that."
A few others sat up, not awoken as none had been sleeping, all waiting for their Wingleader to return, but rather intrigued.
Asterin then heard a sound like a waterfall and looked up to see the dome surrounding the camp where water seemed to trickle down around them, reaching far enough to cover their group of wyverns.
"Water for spring." Dorian continued.
The rain began to stream heavier down the sides of the dome, then as he brought his hand down to stop the downpour, the fire before them roared.
The shield surrounding the camp seemed to thicken as if to keep the blazing light hidden from any watchful eyes.
"Fire for summer."
Asterin looked to him then, his eyes blazing gold when reflected in the firelight.
There was a pause as the flames ceased and Dorian must have been reaching out with his magic as both he, Asterin, and the rest of the thirteen turned their heads to the sound of approaching footsteps.
Manon Blackbeak made her way through the foliage, her hair near luminous in the moon and firelight. Asterin could hear Dorian swallow.
She fought the urge to roll her eyes as Manon's gaze met the king next to her.
"And for Autumn, princeling?" Her cousin's voice rang out as she made her way forward, her mask of annoyance unwavering, though Asterin knew her enough to note the curiosity brimming under the surface.
Asterin turned to Dorian and he kept his eyes focused on Manon, cocking his head slightly, and the wind around them began to roar.
The fire and those on their bedrolls remained untouched, but Asterin could hear the whistle in her ears as if she were soaring through the skies on the back of Narene.
She glanced back to Manon as she strode towards the fire and saw her cousin's hair a whipping mass around her face as she scowled.
Thea snorted and Vesta chuckled under her breath, catching a glare from Manon that had her quieting.
"Wind." The king smirked, resting back on his hands as he surveyed Manon, now standing above him in the space he had unconsciously left for her.
There was a smile playing on his lips that nearly made Asterin grin in return.
She was wary of him when they first met; they all were, but his respect for Manon was evident in how he spoke to her.
Though he challenged her, it was never in a way that made her second's hackles rise. If anything, she found it a grand source of entertainment.
Faline and Fallon had questioned as to why Manon had not killed him yet.
With the way he sometimes spoke so freely with her, it was a wonder he wasn't asking for it, but the demon-twins likely didn't mean it as a genuine question because they could all see the spark of lust and intrigue in Manon's gaze whenever he had a smartass remark or outright questioned her.
Like she wasn't a battle-forged weapon he should fear.
They had all seen him with the collar, seen the monsters that lay underneath the skin, wearing beautiful faces as masks to hide a thirst for violence that even repulsed them.
They knew that he had likely seen nightmares far worse than what surrounded him in this circle, so Asterin found it fitting that he would be the one to pique the Wing Leader's interest.
None had ever spoken to her like that, not even Asterin until recently; she couldn't help but smile at the softness Manon tried to hide when she saw the king.
It reminded her of that cabin, of her hunter, of a life she may not lead but one that Manon may yet experience.
Manon reached down and shoved Dorian's shoulder harder than was necessary as she tugged her bedroll from her shoulder.
"Very cute." She deadpanned.
Kaya grinned from across the fire beside Vesta, and Manon's head shot up as if she could sense it.
"Something funny?"
The witch's grin broadened, but she shook her head, the king speaking in her sted.
"Sarcasm suits you," Dorian said beside her. "Even with that delivery."
Manon stiffened, but she could see her cousin fighting a smile from her place beside her.
"Oh?" She continued to spread the stiff roll of leather. "And what delivery may that be, princeling."
It seemed as though everyone was sitting up now; they had all grown accustomed to the teasing and flirting amongst the two monarchs.
Asterin sometimes grew tired of it as Manon's cousin, but she couldn't deny that the sight of Manon frustrated, in more ways than one, wasn't entertaining.
"Like you'd like to kill me in my sleep tonight."
A few snickers rang around the fire, "Keep talking and I just might."
The king shrugged and laid down again, one arm bent behind his head. Manon sat, still facing the fire.
"I'd like to see you try."
Manon faced him then and though Asterin couldn't see her, she could feel the violence dripping from her posture, mixed with-
"Gross." Sorrel called out beside her.
Manon snapped her head towards her third. “What?" She hissed.
"Oh, you know what…I can't wait until you two can get some privacy and leave us out of this." Thea called.
A few of the other witches began chuckling, and even Asterin couldn't hide her snort of laughter.
Manon's eyes seemed to blaze as she stared down her cousin.
Asterin didn't try to hide her smile. "Don't blame me. You're the one that brought us this particular brand of entertainment."
There were full-on laughs around the fire now and it looked as though Manon was five seconds away from shoving someone into the flames.
"Entertainment, am I?" Dorian purred from the other side of Manon and she sucked in a sharp hiss of breath.
"Yes, and a glorified guard. That is all."
Dorian's eyes glimmered with mischief, but all he said was, "Hmmm." As he again faced the sky, twirled a small vortex of ice, and sent it around the fire.
Suddenly, a small thud from the opposite side of where their Wyverns were, brought them all bolt upright; Manon and the rest of the thirteen stood while Dorian crouched, hands flexed and looking as though they were dipped in ice.
They settled when they saw Abraxos staring from the other side of the shield Dorian had out, looking as annoyed as she had ever seen.
“You can leave but I have to open it to get back in.” Dorian grinned sheepishly towards the wyvern, as if he could understand such things. "Sorry."
Manon scoffed and walked towards her mount.
"You're insufferable." She called out as she strode towards him but her hand stroked his face affectionately, scratching at a scar behind his left eye that had him nearly kicking like a dog.
The beast opened his maw, and a heap of wet, saliva-covered, yellow flowers rolled off his tongue like some kind of offering and Manon jumped to the side.
"What-"
She was cut off by Thea and Kaya bursting into laughter, followed by Vesta and even the green-eyed demon twins.
If looks could kill, they would have all fallen prey to the glare thrown at them by her cousin.
Still, as Dorian, Sorrel, and Asterin joined in the fray of laughter, Manon's glare subsided into the slightest grin that had the rest of the witches grinning or continuing in their laughter.
A short grunt sounded from Abraxos and Manon turned to face him again as he closed his eyes and seemed to be nuzzled by an invisible force, his chin lifting as if Manon were still scratching at him though her hands were at her side.
They all turned to Dorian, where he now lay on his bedroll, eyes wholly trained on Manon as if 13 deadly witches did not surround him.
He merely smiled and she continued to stare back long enough that Vesta cleared her throat
"Darkness save us. Could you too not grope eachother in front of us."
Manon snarled at that, "No one was groping, watch it."
Vesta snorted and laid back again, settling with her feet stretching towards the fire, raising her hand and flicking it in the air.
"I don't know what he does with those weird ghost hands of his."
"No, but you'd like too-" Imogen sing-songed but was cut off with a grunt, likely from an elbow to the ribs.
Manon scowled, giving Abraxos one last pat on his snout before he sauntered back to nuzzle Asterin's mount, nudging a soaked flower towards her.
She smiles at the gesture and turned back to her cousin, noting the slight flush on her cheeks but deciding not to comment.
"Whoever isn't sleeping in the next 10 minutes is training the princeling tomorrow."
Edda spoke at that, "So, say I'm awake in eleven, I get to spar with him?"
Dorian groaned and rolled towards Manon, speaking in a loud whisper. “Gods help me, make it 30 minutes, please. She’ll be out in 20, and you won’t like me missing teeth.”
Asterin could hear the smile in Manon's voice but her tone was final for all.
"Sleep."
****
Asterin woke at dawn; the sounds around them were muted due to the shield Dorian could somehow keep as he slept though he had his magic reaching beyond, should someone approach.
She sat up on her bedroll, careful not to rouse the others.
Stretching, she smiled to herself as she saw Manon and the king facing each other, though Manon rarely slept on her side, their fingers nearly brushing as they seemed to reach towards each other like reflections in a mirror.
