#tristan crochan

[acourtofantumbra]

Was doing a deep dive for a future post about *gestures wildly* witches... Manon's lineage... cross-world connections... something I've found that feels actually tangible, maybe. Anyway, despite only dipping a toe into the ToD reread so far (I am not a ToD hater lol I'm just busy) I found myself checking a moment from KoA and took a nosedive into something immediately shinier. But it was so sudden I didn't have time to do my usual highlights/scribbles on my (currently dead) ipad so... enjoy my measly Kindle highlights.

I KNOW many folks have beautifully analyzed SJM's repeated character names because at one point SJM herself basically said, "I keep a record of all of them and I know what I've used."

I've seen folks flag important repeats for years now (we've seen this film before, A+ work, it keeps me up at night!), but the heavy hitters have been Briar, Thanatos, Cormac and even Ruhn (you know... the Erilean mountains and the hottie who knows 3 things).

So it stands to reason that repeated names might deserve some extra scrutiny... And I pray we get some pay off with that in CC3.

Anyway, as I'm pulling at the thread of ToG witches via our (my) favorite queen - Manon - I hadn't realized I fully forgot her dad's name. Frankly, of all the plot points from ToG, Manon's story's specifics were the haziest... except where Dorian is concerned I'm a mere mortal... and that has me suspicious regardless. Anywayyyy, as you can see above, it's Tristan. Tristan Crochan.

I cannot fully explain the cartwheel flip my brain did thumbing through the roladex of SJM's characters... because Tristan Flynn was not the energy my brain was ready for after reading this really sad passage about Manon's murdered family.

On my first read of the SJMU I went ACOTAR (long break between the original and ACOSF) -> CC -> TOG. And on my first TOG read, this passage triggered no alarm bells. I probably just didn't remember Flynn all that much. But after my CC reread... oh. I remember him. Don't you worry.

Now I am fan of Flynn. He's got a rakishness I simp for, I root for him and the dragon, and clocked his lordship woes despite having what we've all decided is a "hot dad". He's a good time. And Flynn feels like someone to watch! He makes an appearance in not one, but two, CC bonus chapters... and he's got a crush on the aforementioned dragon, who either was introduced for no reason or is gonna be a key player going forward. Or SJM is fucking with us. I don't have the answers.

But what I'm struck by Tristan-wise is a) the similarity in the little physical descriptors we get - brown hair, brown eyes and b) not actually Flynn-related... but a deeply similar sounding story to none other than the Autumn King. Daughter you didn't know was born to a woman you claim was your real love... check. Searching far and wide with a singular focus on recovering your daughter... check. Having another kid out of obligation and duty to continue on important bloodlines... check!!!

It might not have anything to do with Flynn at this current moment... but it's not implausible. Lord Flynn is of course a beloved frat-pack member living in a dump with his fellow bros. He specifically pops up in these bonus chapters going through the motions necessitated by his aristocratic bloodline. His mom/family is eager to marry him and his sister off - of course he seems miserable about the whole idea. But also resigned to it? It seems complicated. TLDR there's a world where Flynn's like "woof, yeah I gotta get married off but the heart wants what it wants!" There is precedent!

Also, I've been 👀 Flynn since it was flagged that he has "super rare earth powers" not commonly seen in Valbaran Fae... first off, what does that mean? Second, hot?!

Well I've done it again, so many words and nothing really of note to take away haha. I'll be honest, my mind was not in a Tristan Flynn headspace!! I'm kind of bogged down in my own thoughts about the witchier women of this multiverse... but in my dragon theory speculation Flynn popped up again and I really can't explain why random dead ends are turning up Tristan!!! I'm not mad about it, but I wish I understood.

#sjm multiverse #throne of glass #cc3 #sjm multiverse spoilers #sjm theory #manon blackbeak #tristan flynn #tristan crochan #crochan witches #rhiannon crochan #crescent city #house of sky and breath #kingdom of ash #autumn king #bryce quinlan

[secondsineternity]

WHO I WRITE FOR:

Requests are currently open!

Currently Focused On: Katsuki Bakugo, Din Djarin, Steve Harrington, Anthony Lockwood, Eddie Munson, Matt Murdock (send in a request for any of these characters and it will be completed faster!)

Ace Attorney: Athena Cykes, Simon Blackquill, Nahyuta Sahdmahdi, Franziska von Karma

A Court of Thorns and Roses: Elain Archeron, Feyre Archeron, Nesta Archeron, Amren, Azriel, Cassian, Emerie, Gwyneth, Helion, Morrigan, Rhysand, Tamlin, Tarquin, Eris Vanserra, Lucian Vanserra

Camp Half-Blood: Annabeth Chase, Piper McLean, Percy Jackson, Leo Valdez

Castlevania: Alucard, Charlotte Aulin, Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades, Jonathan Morris

Crescent City: Hunt Athalar, Lidia Cervos, Ruhn Danaan, Declan Emmett, Danika Fendyr, Tristan Flynn, Ithan Holstrom, Tharion Ketos, Bryce Quinlan

Death Note: L Lawliet, Mihael “Mello” Keehl

Demon Slayer: Hashibira Inosuke, Kyojuro Rengoku

Doctor Who: The Doctor (8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, Fugitive), The Master (Gomez & Dhawan), Mel Bush, Jo Grant, Grace Holloway, Martha Jones, Yasmin Khan, Dan Lewis, Ace McShane, Donna Noble, Clara Oswald, Amy Pond, Bill Potts, Liz Shaw, Sarah Jane Smith, River Song, Rose Tyler, Rory Williams

Fate, The Winx Saga: Aisha, Beatrix, Flora, Terra Harvey, Musa, Bloom Peters, Riven, Sky, Stella

Haikyuu!!: Keiji Akaashi, Asahi Azumane, Kotaro Bokuto, Chikara Ennoshita, Lev Haiba, Hajime Iwaizume, Tobio Kageyama, Shinsuke Kita, Kendaro Kyotani, Yu Nishinoya, Kiyomi Sakusa, Tendo Satori, Daichi Sawamura, Kiyoko Shimizu, Koshi Sugawara, Rintaro Suna, Ryunosuke Tanaka, Yuji Terushima, Kei Tsukishima, Keishin Ukai, Wakatoshi Ushijima, Hitoka Yachi, Tadashi Yamaguchi

Jujutsu Kaisen: Satoru Gojo, Toge Inunaki, Kento Nanami, Maki Zen’in

Keeper of the Lost Cities: Dex Dizznee, Sophie Foster, Keefe Sencen, Linh Song, Tam Song, Biana Vacker, Fitz Vacker

The Legend of Zelda: Link, Zelda

Lockwood & Co.: Lucy Carlyle, George Cubbins/George Karim, Anthony Lockwood

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Ajak, Liz Allan, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Yelena Belova, Kate Bishop, Peggy Carter, Sharon Carter, Katy Chen, Carol Danvers, Layla El-Faouly, Jane Foster, Gamora, Agatha Harkness, Jessica Jones, Scott Lang, Darcy Lewis, Maya Lopez, Mantis, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Karli Morgenthau, Matt Murdock, Namor, Nebula, Hela Odinsdottir, Sylvie Odinsdottir, Loki Odinson, Thor Odinson, Peter Parker (Any), Pepper Potts, Peter Quill, Monica Rambeau, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Sersi, Marc Spector/Steven Grant, Gwen Stacy, Tony Stark, Ava Starr, Stephen Strange, Thena, Joaquin Torres, T’Challa Udaku, Shuri Udaku, Valkyrie, Hope Van Dyne, Vision, Jennifer Walters, Michelle “MJ” Jones Watson, Sam Wilson, Shang-Chi Xu, Xialing Xu

My Hero Academia: Shota Aizawa, Tamaki Amajiki, Mina Ashido, Tsuyu Asui, Katsuki Bakugo, Jin Bubagawara, Nejire Hado, Tenya Iida, Kyoka Jirou, Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima, Atsuhiro Sako, Hanta Sero, Tomura Shigaraki, Hitoshi Shinso, Mezo Shoji, Keigo Takami, Shoto Todoroki, Toya Todoroki, Himiko Toga, Mirio Togata, Fumikage Tokoyami, Ochako Uraraka, Toshinori Yagi, Momo Yaoyorozu, Hizashi Yamada

Pirates of the Caribbean: Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth Swann, Will Turner

Shatter Me: Kenji Kishimoto, Aaron Warner

Spy X Family: Agent Twilight (“Loid Forger”), Yor Briar

Star Wars: Cassian Andor, Poe Dameron, Din Djarin, Cara Dune, Armitage Hux, Bo-Katan Kryze, Fennec Shand

Stranger Things: Robin Buckley, Jonathan Byers, Joyce Byers, Chrissy Cunningham, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Donatello, Casey Jones, Leonardo, Michelangelo, April O’Neal, Raphael

Throne of Glass: Aedion Ashryver, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Gavriel Ashryver, Manon Blackbeak-Crochan, Lysandra Ennar, Nesryn Faliq, Dorian Havilliard, Elide Lochan, Fenrys Moonbeam, Lorcan Salvaterre, Yrene Towers, Chaol Westfall, Rowan Whitethorn

Twisted Wonderland: Leona Kingscholar, Jamil Viper

The Umbrella Academy: Number One / Luther Hargreeves, Number Two / Diego Hargreeves, Number Three / Allison Hargreeves, Number Four / Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five, Number Six / Ben Hargreeves, Number Seven / Viktor Hargreeves, Number Five / Sloane Hargreeves

Vampire Academy: Adrian Ivashkov, Dimitri Belikov, Lissa Dragomir, Rose Hathaway, Sydney Sage

Wednesday: Wednesday Addams, Tyler Galpin, Enid Sinclair, Xavier Thorpe, Larissa Weems

Wizarding World: Lorenzo Berkshire, Sirius Black, Lily Evans, Ominis Gaunt, Hermione Granger, Queenie Goldstein, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Remus Lupin, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, James Potter, Mattheo Riddle, Sebastian Sallow, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley

a character in italics is a favorite to write for. taking a break from strikethroughed fandoms. list is subject to change.

#masterlist #fanfiction #fanfiction masterlist #marvel fanfiction #doctor who fanfiction #ace attorney fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #the umbrella academy fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction

[tragcdysewn]

was that emilia clarke? oh no no, that was just manon blackbeak, a canon character from throne of glass. they are one hundred and sixteen years old, use she/her, and are aware that they are not actually from washington dc. too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

how long has your character been here:

a little under a year

what is your character’s job:

no. she doesn’t work, how dare you expect her to

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom:

the end of kingdom of ash

has any magic affected your character:

nope!

bonus info:

this is my beautiful lethal witch baby manon. i love her to death and so should you. she is the daughter of two warring witch species, the ironteeth and the crochans, and her parents believed she would be the key to uniting the witches and bringing them home to their native lands. her mother, lothian, the heir to the cruelest of the ironteeth clans, the blackbeaks, told manon’s grandmother who her father was right after her birth. her grandmother murdered her mother in cold blood and named manon the new heir, telling the clan lothian had died in childbirth. she later tracked down manons father, tristan, and killed him as well, but not before promising to turn the daughter he’d searched for into a brutal weapon. she succeeded, and manon became the leader of the ruthless coven the thirteen, gaining the title the white demon among the crochans, after she hunted down and slaughtered many of them, believing her grandmothers claims that she was born soulless.

after the ironteeth allied with a demonic king and took several witches to breed new demons, manon began to doubt her grandmothers ‘wisdom’ for the first time. she killed another witch to save the good kings life, and her grandmother demanded her second in commands life in return. during the execution, manon turned on her grandmother, who revealed her lineage during the duel, along with the fact that the most recent crochan she’d slaughtered was her half sister, rhiannon. the thirteen got away, but manon barely survived, her wyvern bringing her to the king she’d saved for help. after she healed, she found the crochans, and convinced them she meant no harm. she killed one of the ironteeth matrons, and took the crochans stolen crown from them. the crochans named her their new queen. she convinced many ironteeth to rebel, and led her witches into battle against the demon king, finally slaughtering her grandmother, though her thirteen were lost in a sacrifice to stop his ultimate weapon. now she has returned her people to their home, and united under one queen, just as her parents wished.

though she isn’t soulless, she is not soft. she will kill you with no hesitation, and has razor sharp iron teeth and nails to do it. and while this isn’t used in canon, as she is part crochan, she has access to crochan magic, a very different magic than the ironteeth, but she’s still learning.

#( && old intro ) #murder mention tw #death mention tw #childbirth mention tw #throne of glass spoilers

[generalalaska]

Friendly reminder

About the fact that my Queen Manon's dead parents came from rival witch clans, which means we were robbed of a tragic enemies to lovers. 

#manon blackbeak #tog #throne of glass #queen of shadows #manon crochan #high Queen manon #Lothian blackbeak #Tristan crochan

[saedii-gilwraeth-simp]

Reckless Love Chapter 1 ~ Lothian Blackbeak x Tristan Crochan

So... haven’t written anything in yonks... oops. I finished Kingdom of Ash and it reminded me why I had started writing again in the first place. And I had interest in exactly two ships, one of which was Manon’s parent so here we go.

She was standing there waiting for him in all her glory, so similar yet so different from the girl he had just been pulled away from. The darkness embraced him softly, when his blood ran too quickly on the stones for him to stay conscious in the world with his daughter in it. He was instead greeted by the lost love of his life. Lothian. Her shoulder-blade length silver hair shifted without breeze and she wore a simple silver shift. Her eyes were the bright gold he had remembered, had missed, but they now looked upon him in sorrow, as though to say look how far we’ve fallen.

“It’s good to see you, Lothi,” so long, it had been so long since he had called her that. Not since that last night together all those years ago. She approached him slowly and sunk to her knees in front of him.

“I missed you, Tristan,” her smile was sad as she cradled his head in her lap, her eyes glazing with unshed tears.

“Has the Darkness claimed me?” Lothian looked out for a second, before shaking her head gently.

“Not yet, my love. A little while now. But I will be here until the end and after that,” words he had said to her whilst lying together and naked on furs in a cabin in a forest - the place where he said he would make them a home. He almost wanted to ask if that night had given them the child still on Erilea, still living and breathing. She seemed to know what he wanted to ask and nodded a response with the same sad smile.

The next few hours were the most painful hours his mind and body had ever endured. but his soul was here, in the black, with Lothian. She would stroke his hair and when he could hear the interrogation and the screams of himself, she sang. Lothian sang beautiful melodies and soft lullabies, she stroked his hair and brushed the tears from his face with her pale, soft hands.

When he finally fell into the Darkness, his body too broken by his own daughter, Lothian was still there. The second he was gone in the living world he could touch her again and hold her in his arms again. He was shaking when she fitted back into his arms for the first time in a long time and he leaned into her, burying his nose in her warrior-braided silver hair. She still smelled like snow and grass. He still loved her.

“Your mother…” she kisses him into silence before placing their foreheads together.

“I know. But Manon is strong, she’ll bring our people home.”

And so they watched down on their daughter until she did.

#throne of glass #kingdom of ash #sarah j maas #manon blackbeak #blackbeak witches #blackbeak matron #lothian blackbeak #tristan crochan #throne of glass fic #tog fic #crochan witches

[ladybookstan]

I couldn't help myself and made a Wikipedia about Asterin, Manorian's daughter.

Asterin B. C. Havilliard

BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

Full Name: Asterin Blackbeak Crochan Havilliard

A.K.A: Little Witchling (by her parents)

Titles: • Crown Princess of Adarlan

• Heir of the Witch Kingdom

• Raw Magic Bringer

Age: 15

Species: Half human - half witch (half Ironteeth, half Crochan)

Ethnic Origin: Adarlan - Witch Kingdom

KNOWN RELATIVES

Father: King Dorian Crochan Havilliard II

Mother: Queen Manon Blackbeak Havilliard Crochan

Grandparents: • Tristan Crochan † - Lothian Blackbeak †

• Dorian Havilliard I † - Georgina Havilliard

Notable Ancestors: • Rhiannon Crochan †

• Gavin Havilliard †

• Elena Galathynius †

• Brannon Galathynius †

• Blackbeak Matron †

Other Relatives: • Asterin Blackbeak † (cousin)

• Edda Blackbeak † (distant cousin)

• Briar Blackbeak † (distant cousin)

• Roland Havilliard † (cousin)

• Aelin Galathynius (distant relative)

• Rhiannon Crochan II † (aunt)

• Bronwen Crochan (cousin)

• Glennis Crochan (Great-great-grandmother)

• Elide and Lorcan Lochan (godmother and uncle)

• Chaol and Yrene Westfall (godfather and aunt)

• Josefin Westfall (best friend)

Family: House Crochan - House Havilliard

Status: Alive

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Gender: Female

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Gold

(let me know if there are any errors🙈😊)

Masterlist

Manorian's Daughter

Manorian's Daughter with The Thirteen

Dorian and Asterin (His Daughter)

Manon and Asterin (Her Daughter)

#asterin blackbeak crochan havilliard #manorian #dorian and manon #manon x dorian #manon blackbeak #manon crochan #dorian havilliard #throne of glass series #tog headcanon

[rufousnmacska]

Hi! If asks are open, what are some of (or a lot of) your heacanons of post-canon life with Manon, Glennis, Bronwen, and Petra? How do you think they get along or interact? What do you think their relationships are like?

I really like imagining how Manon’s life is after KOA with her “new family” after the Thirteen’s passing. Thanks in advance!

I have a multi chapter fic planned that partly deals with these relationships, so her newfound family is something I think about a lot! I’m glad that if she had to lose the Thirteen 😭 she has these others to help her heal and grow.

Bronwen and Petrah were already starting to take their place by Manon’s side as her second and third at the end of KoA, so I think that would continue. I head canon Petrah as her second only because they share more history. Both witches will be instrumental in helping Manon unify the clans once they all return home. I definitely think that after the war, there will still be some hostility and a lot to deal with in terms of the past between the Ironteeth and crochans. Maybe some sort of reconciliation process to work through the violence and genocide since the witch wars? Im not sure how it would work but it won’t be easy. I think Petrah and Bronwen are both loyal to Manon now and they’d be the connections between the queen and the two clans. That doesn’t mean they won’t challenge her or tell her when they disagree. I can see Manon getting annoyed by their opinions lol but I think there’s enough mutual respect that she would listen to them, even if she doesn’t completely agree. Sometimes Manon has to remind herself not to shut herself off from them like she did for so long with the Thirteen. Petrah especially knows how hard it is for Manon since she knew them all for so long. She recognizes the hard days more quickly than Bronwen. But they both try to help in their own ways. Maybe Bronwen quietly takes over on a project and Petrah strongly suggests Manon should visit Dorian. She knows the long flight there will be therapeutic, along with the break from work and stress. As time passes, Manon comes to view them as her best friends and though she loves them, she still misses her Thirteen every day.

As for Glennis, I see her as being Manon’s behind the scenes advisor and confidant. Maybe she has an official role in the court or government, maybe not. Either way, she is the one Manon trusts most aside from Dorian. I love the idea of Glennis telling Manon stories about Tristan and her mother. Once Glennis realizes Manon is desperate for any detail, but won’t admit it, she talks more and more about them. Just random things, like at dinner one night, she comments about how Tristan hated tomatoes or something. Manon smiles and continues eating. Dorian looks at Glennis and mouths thank you because it had been a day full of memories of the Thirteen for Manon. It takes time but eventually they talk about Rhiannon. Manon confesses to what happened and they both hold each other and cry. Glennis never blames her for it, but it’s a source of guilt for Manon for many years.

Glennis is usually the one by Manon’s side on the worst days when she can’t get out of bed. She sits quietly in a chair, reading, while Manon sleeps. If Manon wants to talk, she is there. Her presence makes Manon feel less alone, less ashamed. Like Dorian, Glennis knows the good and bad in Manon and accepts and loves her anyway.

Both Manon and Dorian turn to Glennis for advice about their relationship. Dorian feels closer to her than his own mother, and that makes Manon feel a little sad for him, but also grateful that Glennis is in her life. She becomes friends with Chaol and Yrene and their family and jokes that she’s everyone’s grandmother.

I hope you liked this @hivertoautumn ☺️

And please be patient for the fic. It’s underway but I want to have most of it done before posting.

#manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #manorian #throne of glass #glennis crochan #Bronwen Crochan #Petrah Blueblood #hivertoautumn ask #ironteeth witches #Crochan witches

[manontrashbeak]

On the Other Side

Summary: In short because I haven’t written a good synopsis this is what Manon Blackbeak’s life would be like if she was raised with her father’s side. Prologue below the cut.

It was dark out, that much she knew. Night had fallen seemingly when her water did. The babe in her womb was impatient and wanted out the moment she was ready. Lothian knew she should have left. She could have left weeks ago or never come back at all, but breaking habit was hard, and her oldest habit of all was to please her mother. There is no greater honor then bearing a Blackbeak child, but this one, her baby, was not just a Blackbeak. She was the climax of a long ago war and exiled people. The mixed blood would be their salvation, but Madrona Blackbeak would never let a Crochan live, her granddaughter or no. There was no leaving now, not with her witchling ready to rip her in two and not with the snowstorm ripping apart the world at the same time.

“It is almost time, Milady, almost time to push,” One of the resident healers told her. “Shall I go fetch the Matron?”

Lothian should have said no, wanted to, but her head nodded a yes anyway. She couldn't do this alone, and she needed to survive to get her daughter out once ready. The midwife left and her sister, Halston, came in almost as pregnant as her. Lothian wished she could stay, that her daughter could stay, just so she could have a companion growing up.

“How are you fairing, sister?” Halston asked, hand on her belly. Lothian knew her sister did not truly care if she was in pain or not, but she did want to know what she herself would be going through soon. Her sister had always been the favorite to their mother. Strong, unfeeling, strict were some of the nicer words to describe Halston, but Lothian never cared to be those things. All she wanted was to fly. She never realized that need was her telling herself to get as far away from her family as possible.

“I am ready to meet my daughter. And you? How are you feeling waddling around?” If there was one thing that Lothian beat her sister in, it was looks. Halston, while beautiful, did not compare to Lothian’s snow white hair and striking blue eyes that held the sacred golden flecks. The mention of Halston’s less than gracious way of carrying brought a sneer to her sister’s face. “I feel as you do, ready to have this thing out of my body,” was the reply. Before Lothian could tell her that the only “thing” in his room was her, their mother walked in.

The Matron was beautiful in her own right, ethereal really. Not marked in the slightest by her five hundred plus years of existence, Lothian’s mother could rival a goddess. “What are you two fighting of now? The witchlings in your bellies will soon rip out of your bodies just to get at each other,” She glided into the room with those words. As if she doesn't like us to fight, as if a babe wasn't already doing just that to Lothian’s body. “Are you ready, Lothian?” Her mother looked down at her and all she could do was nod. The healer came back and asked Halston to leave. Once the supplies were ready, and the baby was ready, the healer gave Lothian the go ahead to push. She bared down, her teeth so clenched she heard one crack. This went on for eternity it felt like till the midwife claimed to see her daughter’s head.

Her mother came to where her head was and leaned down, “Only so much longer. Hopefully, this child will be better suited to be a Blackbeak. I’ll have to keep her away from you till her learning years are done just so you weakness does not make an impression.” Lothian heard all this through her scream shattered ears. Her body went white not from pain but anger. The feeling swept through her until all she could feel, do, say were the words that not only damned her, but her daughter.

~~~~~~

The world was white and black. The Crochan could see nothing else, but the white world and the jagged black peak disturbing it. She had been there for three days on behalf of her Prince. He had been frantic since his Blackbeak lover had flown off in the night carrying their child. It had been five months since and no word of the witch or witchling had arisen. With the predicted birthdate around the corner the last royal Crochan wished to know whether his love or heir had made it.

Carefully as she could she walked from one side of the mountain to the other in hope of seeing a side door or forgotten passage. She had left her red cloak at camp, but that didn't mean she wanted to just strut into the stronghold. Farther and farther, she went around until out of the corner of her eye she saw the first color outside the monochrome scale. Blue was the only thing she could see from her vantage point, but blue was never a good color to see on the ground. She crept closer hoping that the sentinels keeping watch would still be inside in the aftermath of the storm. The blue led to more white. White skin, white hair, white gown, all surrounded by blue. The witch’s deflated stomach and blue stained dress tells of what started only hours before and the ripped open throat shows what ended it.

The Crochan jerks away in disgust. What vile female would do such a thing to a fellow witch in labor? The dead witches iron wasn't even out, proving her inability to defend herself while pushing out a child. The Crochan turns away to go back to the safety of the wood when she hears a small garble. Thinking the witch still alive, she swings her head back to the body with the shredded throat. The unseeing eyes still open and empty, she turns away again thinking the frozen wind caused the sound, but another color flashes in her peripheral. The Crochan stops turning and sees a babe barely swaddled lying next to what must be her mother’s body. She puts a hand over her mouth in shock and tears fill her eyes. A baby. They threw a baby in the snow to die.

She bends down and picks up the child. Her hair and skin as white as her mother’s and the snow she rested in. The cold had taken away any other color besides that and her solid gold eyes. She flits a finger over her pulse point. The heartbeat strong as if the baby refused to let the cold steal that as well. The baby hadn't made any noise besides the original babble made to get her attention, and continued to be silent and blink up at her. The Crochan smiled down at her.

“Lets get you home.”

~~~~~

Tristan hadn't slept in months. The thoughts churning in his head worse than any nightmare his subconscious could conjure, but unwilling to risk falling asleep in case of news or a flash white of flying in his periphery. He shoved his hands back through his hair in hopes that the motion would make him concentrate.

“You’re making me want to rip your hair out,” Glennis, his grandmother, said as she stepped into the tent. The camp they had set up was much to close to the Blackbeak Keep for her to be here. Her kind eyes and steady, encouraging presence was not suitable for the toxic air that mountain put out. “Lina will be back soon, probably with news.” Lina, one of his oldest friends, sent to the Keep to find Lothian. Him and his mate had been in a cabin on the border of Fenharrow and Melisande when she suddenly flew off in the middle of the night. It wasn't until a few days later, after wallowing, had he scented the change on her towel he hadn't noticed before.

A child. She ran away while pregnant.

As mad as he wanted to be, he couldn't be. This was exactly like her. That was why he fell in love with her in the first place. The wild, unpredictable witch he met in a small tavern in Melisande. He first thought her to be a very beautiful human woman until she had him pinned to an alley wall with a hand made of iron. From there it had been bliss. The last person he ever planned on falling in love with was the Blackbeak Matron’s daughter. For six months, they had hidden away pretending the world wasn't so cruel, and that they weren't on opposite sides of a timeless war.

“I know, but it won’t stop me from worrying. For them or Lina,” His reply was covered by the hands he had thrown over his face. He wasn't just worried, he was half dead inside because fright. Lothian’s mother would kill her for consorting with a Crochan, and his daughter would be killed because of the blood he gave her. “I shoul-“

His sentence was caught off by Lina shouting across the camp, “Tristan!”

He shot up and past his grandmother, leaping over the different clan’s fires on his rush to get to her. He slipped to a stop in front of her. His eyes roved over her face and across the sky looking for wounds or enemies. When neither showed themselves he looked down to what she was holding. A bundle of white was in her arms.

“I found her alive in the snow next to her mother’s body. I couldn't leave her,” Lina said cradling the child. He barely heard her over the roaring in his head. That hair. The hair he hoped his daughter would inherit. The white so brilliant it looked like the light the moon gave off when at its peak and completely full. Lina was still talking when he fell to his knees and held out his arms. She wordlessly handed the child over. Tristan brought his daughter close to his chest trying to keep her warm.

“But if we did have a child what would we name her or him?” Tristan asked with a smirk on his face.

“It doesn't matter. I’m not getting pregnant anytime soon, and her name will be for me to decide,” Lothian snapped back from where she was chopping carrots. The Crochan prince walked up behind her and looped his arms around her waist.

“So what would her name be?”

“Manon. I wish to name my daughter Manon.”

“Manon, her name is Manon,” He said still looking down at his daughter. At the sound of her name her eyes opened to reveal golden irises brighter than any forge. Glennis came up behind him, and Line had knelt with him in the snow. He looked at both and stood, Lina with him. As one they headed toward the front of camp. As one they stopped every witch to let them know their heir was home.

A/N: It’s NaNoWriMo!! Not gonna lie this (like most of my fics) is unedited. For NaNoWriMo, I typically write and post without editing and at the end post a completely finished and edited fic on Ao3. So sooner or later this will be out on Ao3 edited, but for now it’ll be posted in parts unedited.   

tagging: @rufousnmacska​  @propshophannah​ 

#manon blackbeak #manon x asterin #crochan witches #Crochan Queen #manorian #malide #manon x OC #aelin ashryver #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #elorcan #lysaedion

[dropletsofink]

Iron and Steel

[Part 3]

Summary: The story of Lyria Whitethorn, daughter of Queen Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and King Rowan Whitethorn, and Tristan Havilliard, son of Queen Manon Blackbeak-Crochan and King Dorian Havilliard

A/N: And, after an eternity of procrastinating, I’ve finally updated!! I’ve also managed to draft out the plots of future parts but because of exams I don’t think I can update soon. -_- Sorry!! But, anyways, enjoy!!

-

Although they were close, Tristan and Lyria both had responsibilities they needed to attend to.

In separate kingdoms.

Tristan was well versed in court politics and magic, taught by his father, and trained in discipline of body and mind by Manon.

And, even though Manon and Dorian lived apart, Tristan never felt like they didn’t care for him.

Especially after the incident.

He’d alternate between Adarlan and the Wastes, but resided mainly in Adarlan. After all, he was to rule it one day.

Not that that had always been the case. What had seemed like a lifetime ago- only five years- there’d been another heir to the Adarlanian crown. His older sister.

Astrian.

But those memories were best left undisturbed. Tristan had long learned to lock the darkest parts of his life in the back of his mind; dredging them up left him paralysed.

Dorian had taught Tristan that the best way to know his people was to live alongside them. And so it wasn’t rare for him to dress himself in commoner clothes and mingle amongst them.

And as much as King Dorian II tried to vanquish the cruelties of the Adarlanian underworld, it was still rife in the streets.

Gangs, brothels, opium dens, they still fed off the innocent young who were cast out too soon. He’d learnt that from Lady Lysandra’s story.

She often frequented the brothels, with huge sums of money to buy the girls’ freedom and offer them homes in Caraverre. Tristan was awed by her tale, being cast out simply for having magic, chafing under Madame Clarisse’s ‘tutelage’, shackled to Arobynn Hamel.

Only to end up slitting his throat and fighting her way alongside Queen Aelin.

Tristan tried to follow her example- helping whoever he could and beating the life out of the lowlifes exploiting those weaker than them in dark alleyways.

He was beginning to draw attention to himself from those who he didn’t particularly want it from, which only spurred him to get stronger.

It was during one of these exploits that he found himself in a run-down tavern, seated in the corner with a tankard of cheap ale on the stained table in front of him.

The court may be a haven of whispered rumours, but the best tales came from places like these. And, although tavern brawls were common, some of the things he heard here made it worth it.

Tonight was like any other. Sailors and wretches were hunched over tables, with Tristan keeping a sharp ear out for anything that would interest him. The bartender- Adrian-  flashed him a quick smile before returning to his work. He was an old friend of Lord Ren’s, and welcomed Tristan whenever he frequented.

Picking at his nails with his dagger, Tristan soon grew bored. There was nothing worth hearing today, apart from which noble was engaged to whom, so he drained his ale and got up to leave.

Just then, a hooded figure brushed past Tristan, his fingers glancing against his for a moment.

Leaving a small sheaf of paper in his palm.

The figure raised his head slightly and put a finger to his lips, before taking the seat that Tristan had occupied moments ago, crossing one leg over the other. He saw a flash of grey eyes before the figure flicked his wrist, motioning for Tristan to leave.

What was that?

Tristan sauntered out of the tavern and hid in a gap between it and the adjointed building. His power sparked at his fingers, tendrils of ice forming around his hands. If this person meant trouble, he’d give it to them willingly.

The sheaf of paper was still in his hand, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the street. This could be an ambush, and he’d had enough of those to last a lifetime.

“If I wanted to hurt you, young prince, I would have done it already.”

As Tristan whipped his head up, the hooded figure jumped from the shaky scaffolding that barely held the tavern together and landed neatly beside him.

He took no chances. In a heartbeat, the razor-tipped icicles formed out of thin air and hung, suspended mere millimetres away from the figure’s throat. “What do you want?”

“Relax, Tristan. I’m a friend.” He slowly put his arms up in front of him and drew back his hood, revealing a tanned face flecked with thin scars, unruly black hair, and a lazy smile. He looked to be about 30, and the ease which he carried himself with told him to be a thief of sorts. Or at the very least, trained enough to climb buildings.

Tristan, unimpressed, raised an eyebrow but didn’t move the shards away from the man’s throat. And said nothing.

The man simply sighed and rolled his eyes, and fast as an asp, hooked his leg around the back of Tristan’s knees and threw him to the ground. He dodged the ice shards as they were flung towards where he’d been standing moments ago, as he braced a knee on the floor and pinned Tristan’s hands behind his back.

With a sudden shink, Tristan’s iron nails sliced upwards into the man’s skin. He jumped back and swore, giving Tristan enough time to scramble to his feet. He stood with his back to the crack in the wall, and although he could run, he refused to. If this man was intent on harming him, who knows what he could do to others.

“Nice to see that the prince has some bite.” Although there were several deep slices in his palms and wrist, all leaking blood, and despite the fact that he was backed into the alley wall, he seemed completely at ease.

“Well, for someone who calls me his friend, you seem to have a strange way of introducing yourself.”

“Maybe so.” The man took a handful of gauze out of his pocket and leisurely wrapped his wounds. Tristan stalked closer to him, iron nails now fully unsheathed. “But have you read my note yet?”

The note? That sheaf of paper- he must have dropped it, because the man finished wrapping his hands and produced the note from another pocket, and held it out for Tristan to take.

Tristan, without shrinking his iron nails, took the paper from the him. He smirked, grey eyes twinkling with mischief or ill intent. Tristan decided not to analyse.  

“I’m confident that you’ll find the information interesting, for personal reasons. Royals often frequent places like that,” He cocked his head to the side, in the direction of the tavern, “For gossip. And you don’t strike me as the type to care about who marries who.”

“How-”

“I’ve been watching you.”

Tristan edged closer to the man, who didn’t retreat. “I don’t care who you are, but if you’re planning something-”

Smirking, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fear not, Your Highness. I am but a messenger.”

“A messenger who can climb buildings and fight as well as an assassin?”

“I have a complicated past.” He folded his arms. “And a lot of enemies. At least that’s something we have in common.”

Tristan opened his mouth to retort, but the man suddenly leapt and caught the dipping edge of the rusted pipe, swinging himself upwards and somersaulting onto the scaffolding.

With a roguish wink and a salute, he called out. “The name’s Nox, by the way. If you need me again, you’ll know where to find me.”

And with that, he vanished.

Leaving Tristan in the alleyway, nails drawn. And feeling incredibly stupid.

With a huff, he straightened and checked himself. There was a bruise blooming already on his shoulder, so he froze the skin around it.

His iron nails shrank back into his skin, and he unrolled the sheaf of paper. The writing was small and sloped, and the ink had bled as if water had soaked into the paper, despite it being dry.

“Tell the Queen of Terrasen to protect her youngest. Power and sway are much coveted, and those who seek it attack the weakest link in the chains of royalty.”

Wait….

Marion?

She was being targeted? For sway over Terrasen?

For a moment, he wasn’t in the dingy alley next to the tavern. He was back where he was five years ago, watching Astrian’s back from his hiding spot and she snarled at the dark shapes in front of her.

Memories of the incident flashed back to him, unbidden, as Tristan braced his hand on the wall. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, willing his breathing to stay even and the thoughts to vanish. He couldn’t break down here, not when he might be seen.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and he pressed his palms into his face, gasps shuddering out of him.

Marion was being targeted. He needed to tell Queen Aelin.

He didn’t stop to think that it might have been a false alarm, or a ruse to weaken Terrasen. Even if that were the case, it wouldn’t do any harm to guard her, just in case.

And if the chances were that Nox had been telling the truth, then there was no way he’d let Marion be hurt like that.

So, he put the note into his pocket and shifted into an owl, swooping across the Adarlanian rooftops and back to the palace.

#iron and steel #fanfic #throne of glass #tog #tog fanfic #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #dorian havilliard #manon blackbeak #terrasen #sjm

[dorianthekinkymf]

7, 9, 15, 21 Manorian

7. Do you have any new favourite characters?

FENRYS MOONBEAM.

9. Whose heroics were the most surprising?

Dorian’s tbh because like before KOA he hadn’t really done anything overly heroic by himself and just him going to Morath and bringing the whole place down was amazing. Also, the fact that he was entirely ready to sacrifice himself to the Wyrdkeys!!

Although I’m kinda sad that Dorian had to lose the extent of his raw magic. And Aelin too. I just loved that they had THAT MUCH power which had so much potential to do good and fight against evil? But totally understand why it had to go.

15. What did you think of how Manon and Dorian left things?

Okay so like at the end of KOA I was devastated that we would never know more than the “we’ll see”. Like them leaving things like that was a very Manorian thing, especially since Manon would never tie herself to a man so easily and I’m glad that Dorian recognised that and didn’t immediately marry her. BUT now that i’ve been told the World of TOG is like a semi-prologue book set 10 years in the future I WANT MORE MANORIAN. LIKE WE’VE HAD ENOUGH ROWAELIN BUT MORE MANORIAN PLS. 

21. What do you hope happens for Manorian in the future?

My headcanon of how things go down post-KOA:

Manon and Dorian constantly visit each other because like (a) Manon finds it comforting to be around Dorian especially since what happened to the thirteen and (b) they both understand each other so well 

Manon flies on Abraxos to Adarlan and Dorian flies himself in hawk/wyrvern form or on a wyrvern to the Wastes (since he doesn’t have as much magic anymore) 

And like these visits get more frequent and they fall in love 

But they are still busy rebuilding their kingdoms

Eventually like 5 years later when everything has settled down, Dorian and Manon realise that they just can’t be apart

Dorian is leaving the Witch Kingdom and is like flying home. But pretty much as soon as he leaves, Manon realises that she misses him too much and saddles up Abraxos

Dorian arrives back in Adarlan and is like wtf am I doing here. He knows she will probably say no because she can’t be tied to a man but he decides that last time she proposed and he has never had a chance to ask himself. So he grabs a simple gold ring and goes to fly back. But as he is leaving the wyrvern stables, Abraxos arrives 

Dorian is like ??? and Manon is like “princeling this arrangement between us just isn’t working” and Dorian can see that look in her golden eyes that he has been waiting years to see. He didn’t think that she would ever want this. So Dorian says “I agree, witchling” and gets down on one knee

The wedding is extremely simple. Dorian just grabs Chaol and Yrene and drags them in front of a priest. They get married like 1 hour later

Aelin is furious that she wasn’t invited and then Dorian tactfully reminds her that he wasn’t invited to her wedding either

The new King of Adarlan and the Queen of the Crochans and Ironteeth split their time between their kingdoms

Now that they’re married, they don’t have to come up with excuses to just up and leave their kingdoms

Dorian, through his raw magic, ends up being immortal just like Manon (my baby Dorian is immortal, don’t tell me otherwise)

They have two children: Asterin and Dorian Tristan III. Asterin is a witch and is the heir to the witch kingdom and Dorian III is human and the heir to Adarlan (i’m not sure if the kids can be witch/human)

AND they live forever in happiness 

#answered #koa spoilers #kingdom of ash spoilers #headcanon #okay so i got a little carried away #but don't take this away from me #manorian #krish

[saedii-gilwraeth-simp]

Reckless Love Chapter 2 ~ Lothian Blackbeak x Tristan Crochan

So I was meant to post this yesterday, but I had a 6 1/2 hour at work and I was tired. Anyway, let’s talk about the Blackbeak Matron because I refuse to believe she was always like that.

Chapters: 1

The Blueblood matron had overseen the witchling’s birth, as she oversaw the birth of most Heir’s, no matter the coven. The Bluebood matron had told her that this child was special. Absinthe Blackbeak couldn’t give a shit about the stupid matron, she just wanted this child out of her. For as special as witchlings were, she would give anything to end this pain and have this child be in her arms. Her mother stood above her and just this once, let her squeeze her hand so hard that her iron claws came out. Blood ran down her chin from trying not to scream so hard that her iron teeth had pierced her bottom lip.

Her daughter came screaming into the world despite the fact she was yet to have the iron in her.

Absinthe could breathe again as she held her daughter in her arms an hour later. The girl had yet to open her eyes, but her hair was the same silver as her mother’s. The Blackbeak matron flew in and out of the room, going about her business while they waited.

The Matron wasn’t there when Absinthe’s daughter opened her eyes. They were pure, beautiful gold. And for the first time in her life, Absinthe felt something warm beating in her chest. It was the first time she felt love for something other than the open skies above her. Absinthe stroked her daughter’s hair as the girl just stared at her, silent.

“Hey, baby girl, welcome to the world.”

“What are you going to name her?” Her second stood at the door and looked at the girl in Absinthe’s arms.

“Lothian. Lothian Blackbeak,” her second nodded, smiled and turned away, walking back down the hall of Blackbeak Keep, no doubt to tell the Matron the news. Absinthe looked back down at her daughter. The eyes and hair were Absinthe’s, but the nose must have been that of the human male she had slept with (she didn’t remember his name nor did she care.) It was small and delicate, but Absinthe had doubt that it would stay that way as she grew and trained and had it broken.

She looked up at the sound of the throat clearing. The Blueblood heir leaned against the doorframe. Ansinthe very subtly hugged Lothian closer, but the heir looked as though she wasn’t going to step any closer.

“She will be the key to bringing us home, Absinthe. My advice would be to let her spirit flourish, don’t stifle it as you yourself have been stifled,” she fronted but her face curled in a scowl.

“Did your god-awful stars tell you that?”

“Absinthe-“

“No, take your insane notions that I would hurt my daughter and get out, okay, Get out,” as if sensing her mothers distress, Lothian began to cry softly, drawing her mother’s attention. “Get out, so I can look after my daughter without your craziness in the way,” the Blueblood heeded her and walk away.

“Come here little one, I’ve got you,” she rocked Lothian until she fell back asleep in her mother’s arms, her perfect face at peace.  

#throne of glass #kingdom of ash #sarah j maas #manon blackbeak #blackbeak witches #blackbeak matron #lothian blackbeak #tristan crochan #crochan witches #tog fic #blueblood witches

[rufousnmacska]

Museum Day

A modern manorian au request

Part 1

Part 2

___

Part 3

The bar was unexpectedly full for a Thursday night and when Dorian opened the door, several people had to step aside to let him through. Loud and boisterous, cheering and booing as one, the crowd was focused solely on whatever championship game was on the big screen. Rifthold never made it into the playoffs of any sports, so their presence in the final tonight meant the bar was packed and Manon was working.

Too busy pouring beers, she didn’t see him come in. But the man working beside her did. He hadn’t been here the night Dorian first met Manon. His long, dark hair was pulled back and Dorian could see all the features he’d passed on to his daughter, including his unusual golden eyes. Those eyes were inspecting him now, taking in the expensive clothes and styled hair. Dorian smiled politely, trying to interpret the look, but the man was inscrutable. Someone ordered a drink and Dorian finally escaped her father’s gaze.

As he waded through the crowd to where Manon was working, he spotted her cousin. She was walking towards him, arms full of glasses and dishes, when she stopped and pointed her chin at him. “Art guy, right?”

“I’m Dorian,” he said, yelling slightly to be heard over the noise, and hoping to disguise his disappointment that she didn’t already know his name. “I’d shake your hand, but that’s not a good idea. Can I help?”

She huffed a thankful breath and held her arms out for him to take a stack of pint glasses. “I’m Asterin. It’s nice to meet you. Officially, I mean. Unofficially, I know everything about you.” She grinned and winked before moving past him towards the kitchen.

Dorian found himself smiling too as he followed her. Manon finally saw him as he passed the end of the bar. Her puzzled expression at his appearance was, for lack of a better word, so adorable, that he wished he could have taken a picture. He paused before the swinging door and shouted, “Asterin recruited me.”

Manon glanced over at her father, who was waiting on people at the other end of the bar.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, more quietly this time. He should have called before showing up out of the blue. Although they’d talked often, they’d only seen each other once since she’d let him and his brother stay at her place. Dorian’s efforts to free himself and Hollin from his uncle’s grasp had wreaked havoc on his already hectic class schedule. And her work schedule was just as bad. But after the interview had gone so well, she was the first person he wanted to tell.

“No,” she said. “The game is almost over and things should quiet down soon.”

“Okay. I’ll stay out of the way.”

With a fearsome point of her finger, she said, “Don’t let Asterin boss you around!”

Dorian gave her a look saying it was way too late for that and headed into the kitchen. Asterin was instantly there, plucking the glasses from his grasp and setting them in the dishwasher. When it was loaded, she turned around to examine him.

“I can turn around,” he joked. “Mr. Blackbeak gave me the once over when I came in, but he only saw the front.”

Asterin laughed and looked as if she was going to say sure. But instead, she said, “Mr. Crochan. Manon uses her mother’s name. I wouldn’t want you to screw things up right off the bat.”

“Oh shit, thank you,” he said. “That would’ve been bad.”

“Nah, he’s easy to get along with actually,” she said. “Just protective of Manon.” Her eyes narrowed and she pointed at him. “We all are. So, princeling or not, you better not hurt her.”

Solemnly, he said, “I promise.”

Asterin gave him another once over before declaring, “Okay, you’ve passed my test.”

Laughing, he asked, “How did I do that?”

“How will I do that,” she corrected, looking pointedly at the dishwasher, then back at him.

Dorian found a clean spot to put his portfolio down, then joined her. “What do I do?”

“First, you need an apron. I’d hate to mess up your pretty suit.”

*****

Asterin had been running back and forth to the kitchen like a mad woman, going in with dirty dishes and returning immediately with clean ones to put behind the bar. She’d refused to answer Manon’s questions about where Dorian had disappeared to, or what she’d saddled him with.

When she finally had a free moment, she headed back into the kitchen. Dorian was standing at the sink, working his way through a stack of plates. The kitchen wasn’t big enough to offer a full menu. Or even a half menu. But her dad had partnered with the pizza place next door so their food could be ordered here.

“I thought I told you not to let Asterin suck you into this,” Manon said. She’d silently walked up behind him, and at the sound of her voice, so close to his ear, Dorian flinched and dropped a plate on the floor.

He swore and picked up the pieces, only to find her grinning at him. “You did that on purpose!”

Ignoring the accusation, she asked, “How did it go?”

Tossing the broken dish into the trash and wiping his hands on his damp, dirty apron, he said, “You are looking at the new intern for Adarlan Architects.”

Before she could congratulate him, her father stuck his head in the door. “Manon, get out here!” When he saw Dorian, and what he was doing, Tristan gave a brief nod - of greeting or approval, she couldn’t tell - then disappeared.

On her way back out, Manon said, “We’ll have to celebrate. Something better than washing dishes in a bar.”

The next day, when he wanted to go to the museum, she wondered if she’d made a mistake in leaving the method of celebration up to him. She loved the museum, but she’d been volunteering a lot in addition to her normal hours. This was her first day off in a long time that she’d planned to avoid the place.

Coming through the rotating door, Dorian took her hand and pulled her to the left. Towards the entrance to the art museum.

“Have you ever been through this side?”

“Once. For the employee orientation,” Manon admitted, expecting disappointment or annoyance. But his face lit up with excitement.

“Well then, can I interest you in a tour?”

“It’s your party,” she said. “But, I don’t know any tour guides who hold the visitor’s hand.”

Leading her into the first gallery, Dorian smirked. “Things are done a little differently on my tours.”

“I suppose I’ll need to choose a favorite piece?” Glancing around the room, all she saw were a bunch of dark, drab paintings hanging on the walls. Boring portraits of old men, groups of old men, and more old men. A few naked women. Cynically, she wondered if any of the artwork would be of naked men.

“Your grimace tells me the Xandrian style is not for you.”

Heat radiated over her cheeks and she cringed. “Was it that obvious?”

Dorian tilted his head and stared at her. The flush of her skin grew hotter under his gaze and Manon wanted to turn away, but she crossed her arms and stayed put.

Finally, he said, “I think I know what you’ll like. But in the interest of giving a proper tour, we’re not skipping things. Figuring out what you dislike and why can help you better appreciate the things you do like.”

Manon knew nothing about art, and had never been interested in it. During her orientation tour of this wing, she’d ignored most of what was said, relegating it to mindless nonsense. Give her the concrete science of bones and minerals and anatomy over the ever-changing interpretations and feelings of art any day. Though, paleontology involved its own kind of interpretation. Yes, it was science. But unless someone developed a time machine, there was no way to be 100% certain of what these animals looked like or how they lived. So, in some ways, science demanded just as much creativity as the arts.

As Dorian began to talk about the paintings in the first gallery, she tried to keep an open mind and follow his advice, thinking about what aspects she didn’t like and what, if any, she did.

*****

The route through the art museum had been circuitous and he’d doubled back through a few galleries. But Dorian wanted to save the exhibit he thought Manon might appreciate for last. While she’d enjoyed some of the sculptures, not a surprise based on her preferred subject, she hadn’t expressed much interest in the broad collection of paintings. Her eyes widened at a few, but he was counting on the next room to blow her away.

Letting her walk in first, Dorian held his breath, waiting for her reaction.

The room was smaller than most, displaying works by a single artist. Darkly painted walls and focused lighting gave off an air of neutral elegance that worked well with the art. Huge landscape paintings using bright colors and simple strokes surrounded them: towering mountain peaks glowing in the sunrise, sinuous rivers meandering through wide valleys, and skies filled with billowing clouds that seemed to be alive with movement. They possessed a wild, windy sort of beauty that he had come to associate with her.

Trying not to stare too intently, Dorian watched Manon slowly walk around the room. She stopped in front of each painting. Ever so faintly, her neutral mask was starting to break. But before he could claim victory, she turned a corner and didn’t come back.

He found her in front of one of the smaller pieces, and the only one with figures. At the foot of soaring, snow-capped mountains, a man was leaving his home, leaving a woman and child behind. Eyes wide and glistening, Manon looked at it for a very long time. Dorian retreated to a bench, leaving her alone with the painting and her thoughts.

When she finally joined him, he made no mention of the tears ready to spill down her cheeks, and made no move to hug her, even though he desperately wanted to.

“I never knew my mother,” she said, speaking so softly he had to lean closer. “She died when I was born and I was raised by my grandmother. I didn’t even know my father until I was 16.”

Unable to resist, Dorian slowly placed a hand on her back. It was a light touch, until she sank backwards an inch or two, resting against it.

“My grandmother was...” she shivered before continuing. “She was not a good person. She framed my dad for dealing drugs and managed to get custody of me. But she told me I was unwanted. Abandoned. And it was her bad luck to raise me. She...” Manon paused, then took a deep, steadying breath. “She was very good at finding your weakest points, digging her claws in, and not letting go. And while she was feeding me lies, she was telling my father I was ashamed of him, that I wanted nothing to do with him. Asterin had it worse.” She stopped abruptly, perhaps realizing how much truth she’d just laid bare to him. “We survived it somehow. When I tracked down my dad and learned the truth, Asterin and I left and came here. His family took us in.” She smiled then and added, “It’s a big family. Lots of cousins.”

Dorian said nothing, trying to take it all in. Trying to comprehend how difficult it was for her to speak about, how much he appreciated her trust. Trying not to angrily ask about the grandmother who’d abused her.

Manon wiped her face dry. “She died two years ago. When we heard, Asterin and I planned to celebrate. But we just cried.” She faced him, her eyes downcast. “We just hugged each other and cried.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, not knowing what else to say. It seemed to be enough as she tilted sideways against him, letting him shift his arm to wrap around her shoulders.

“That painting. He doesn’t want to leave them. You can’t see their expressions, but you can tell. He already misses them and he’s not even gone.”

He looked back up and immediately saw what she meant. The goodbye held a terrible finality that none of the figures seemed to want. But for whatever reason, had to go through with.

“How did you know I’d like these?”

Dorian laughed softly. “Something about these paintings made me think of you.”

“What was your favorite?” she asked, changing the course of the conversation away from herself.

He looked around the room. “I love this style. The simplicity and use of color. But I think my absolute favorites are the goddess statues.”

Manon rolled her eyes, unable to hide her smile. “The naked ones.”

“They weren’t all naked.” Judging from her eyebrow, she didn’t believe him. “And it’s not because they’re naked,” he protested. “You have to admit the carvings were incredible. The way the marble looked like living flesh and muscle. I honestly don’t know how they did it.”

She relented. “Okay. Yes, they were beautiful.”

“You’ve never told me what exhibit is your favorite in the natural history wing.”

Pink spread across her cheeks and she quirked her mouth to keep from smiling. “The pterosaurs.”

Dorian grinned, wide and victorious. He didn’t quite know what he’d won, but it felt like a victory. Like yet another thing connecting them together. “Hmm, that’s interesting.”

She made a noise that could have been agreement and pulled him up when she stood. As they made their way back through the maze of galleries, she asked, “Do you have to get home to Hollin now?”

“No,” Dorian said. “He’s staying with a friend all weekend.” She didn’t say anything more, though he sensed she wanted to. “Why?” He pulled her closer and whispered, “Do you have more ways to celebrate my huge success?”

Laughing, she gestured to their surroundings and said, “I’ll admit, you didn’t go the route I was expecting. But that’s not what I meant.” They were outside now and she stopped to tug a wool hat over her head. Avoiding his gaze, she asked, “I thought maybe you’d like to meet my dad? Maybe have dinner?”

The way she asked it told Dorian this was something she didn’t normally do, if ever. He’d missed officially meeting Mr. Crochan last night at the bar. After berating Asterin for kidnapping him, Manon had pulled him out of the kitchen shortly before the place closed and walked him outside. Her father was busy talking to some people in the corner and he missed Dorian’s exit completely. Despite her enthusiasm about meeting up today, and knowing how much she guarded her privacy, he’d gone home feeling a little hurt.

But that hurt was completely forgotten with her invitation.

Her expression was a little wary, so Dorian said simply, “Yes.” This seemed new for her and he didn’t want to make her feel more uncomfortable by pulling some I’d be honored to meet your father speech, even if that was exactly how he felt. But he added, “As long as he doesn’t insist on pineapple pizza.”

Her laugh rang through the air, musical and lovely. And for that moment, the crowd surrounding them disappeared. No shrieking kids, no busy sidewalks, no loud traffic. Only the two of them seemed to exist.

Looking at him as if she sensed it too, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. When he no longer felt the softness of her lips on his skin, the moment passed and they were once again in front of a bustling city street. With hands held tight, they made their way into the crowd.

*****

Epilogue

He should have checked his bag rather than try to stuff so much into a carry-on. The couple glaring at him as he tried to dislodge it from the overhead compartment was quickly losing their patience. But Dorian just ignored them, gave a final tug, and freed his luggage. In moments he’d be seeing Manon. With his own eyes, not on a screen.

They’d only been apart for five months, but it had been the longest five months of his life.

Getting access to his trust fund and full custody of Hollin had set him back two semesters. Which was fine. Except that part way through, Manon was accepted to grad school at the University of the Wastes. A dream come true that came with a tarnished silver lining. They’d be in two different cities on opposite ends of the continent until he graduated.

Now, with Hollin settled in a good boarding school on the west coast, and his degree in hand - a degree not chained to any one location - they could finally be together.

Finally, he thought, patting the tiny box in his pocket.

That would have to wait though, until her family visited next month.

On the flight, he’d watched the scenery change from forested mountains to rolling, grassy plains, but it still hadn’t prepared him for what he saw when he stepped off the plane. He was struck by the immensity of the Wastes, the wind and wide open sky, the distant hills that were full of fossils. And then by her.

Manon ran to meet him and he dropped his bag. They held each other as if it had been years and they’d been oceans apart.

Lifting her off her feet, Dorian rasped, “God I missed you!”

Manon laughed, and when he put her down she wore a smile he’d never seen before, full of light and joy. “Welcome home, princeling.”

The end :)

*****

Tagging - @itach-i​ @nestasbucket​ @blackhavilliard​ @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies​ @sierrareads​ @chloe123love607​ @manontrashbeak​ @over300books​ @bookishwitchling​ @jimetg98​ @mis-lil-red​ @yourfacesickens-me​ @awesomelena555​

If you’d like to be tagged in future fics, let me know :)

fanfic master list (includes the link to my fics on AO3)

(painting: Remember, by Nicholas Roerich 1924)

#manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #modern manorian au #my writing #museum day #I'm pretty much shit at describing art so please forgive me #the painting is Remember by Nicholas Roerich #shared many times on my blog since it's my favorite

[dropletsofink]

Iron and Steel

[Part 2]

Summary: The story of Lyria Whitethorn, daughter of Queen Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and King Rowan Whitethorn, and Tristan Havilliard, son of Queen Manon Blackbeak-Crochan and King Dorian Havilliard

A/N: Lyria!! This part focuses primarily on Lyria and her...problems. Also, her siblings that are mentioned are part of my Rowaelin Kids fanfic, so if you’re confused, just refer back to that. Enjoy!!

- 

It all started when Lyria was twelve.

As the eldest child, she was destined for the throne, and felt its burden from a young age, but she didn’t let that stop her from living her life to the fullest.

She’d seen her mother and father spar repeatedly on the palace grounds, and begged for training. Rowan was reluctant at first, but after seeing the sparkle in her eyes and her fierce insistence, he agreed.

He gave her basic training of all forms of combat he could recall, and along with Aelin’s instruction, she became a fierce warrior at a very young age.

Even Aedion was impressed, watching Lyria and Tristan spar, and would marvel at the sheer grace and ferociousness she had.

However, there was one slight problem.

Out of all of her siblings and cousins, she was the only one who possessed not a single drop of magical talent.

At first, she wasn’t concerned. She could be whatever she wanted, and magic definitely didn’t define who she was.

But as the days went on, and as she saw her siblings train and hone their magical powers, her initial indifference began to erode.

Sam could summon monsters and demons with a simple flick of his blood, Connall, although he rejected it, could create swirling vortexes of flame that rivalled even Aelin’s, as their father said, and Marion could heal any wound at a simple touch.

She could do nothing.

Her insecurity began to gnaw at her even more when Tristan would train his iron nails with Manon, slashing at target after target at his mother’s command. It didn’t help when he discovered that he had also inherited his father’s ice. Dorian taught him to create anything from deadly fragmented shards, to jagged glaciers that rose as high as the Castle of Rifthold.

Tristan sensed it, and took care to only use his weapons when sparring with her. She would shrug it off and insist he use his nails, wanting to strengthen herself and her reflexes.

She kept up a happy façade, joking with her siblings about it, even going as far as to ask them to show her how they used their magic.

Connall, the more observant of the lot, knew that she wasn’t fine with it. Tristan too, and as much as they tried to talk her into admitting it, she never did.

So day after day, she’d watch the feats that those around her accomplished with the power thrumming in their blood, only heightening her own muted senses.

Lyria insisted her father be harder with the training, refusing to look weak to the people around her, and although Rowan knew why, he didn’t ask her to explain.

She’d return every night to her bedroom, muscles aching and multiple bruises blooming on her skin, but would only patch herself up and vow to train harder.

The exercise helped her to force down her insecurity, and before long, she could fight even Aedion and cause him several injuries.

One particular instance, she kicked him in the face so hard that his eye was blackened for a week. Lysandra never let him forget it. Neither did his son.

Tristan did what he could to help her train, giving her books to read and run with her through Oakwald until his lungs gave out. He wanted to be there for her, because he knew how much it hurt her. Being weak in a world rife with power was bound to wear anyone down.

But Lyria refused to.

By the time she was 15, she’d earned the nickname ‘The Steel Fury’ throughout the kingdom. The Sword of Orynth was her preferred weapon, and even at such a young age, she could best multiple Fae soldiers and emerge victorious with a wicked smile slashed across her face, canines glinting.

Her feelings of loss never completely faded, but she felt better knowing that she could prove herself just as well, magic or no.

She’d taken to cutting her hair herself with the edge of a dagger and never took to mind how she looked, often showing up to court meetings in a bloodstained tunic and ripped pants, hair bound in a leather strap. Court life bored her, but she knew that one day she’d be a queen, she took care to attend those meetings.

But what Lyria didn’t anticipate, was the reaction of the courtiers at her lack of magic.

She’d always thought that, if mortals could become kings and emperors and assassins, nothing would stop her from rising to the throne when her time came.

She’d always been confident in her abilities, albeit her ever-present insecurity.

She’d expected everyone to be fine with it, but she was hit hard when one day, sixteen years old, she stood alongside her parents in the throne room as an emissary from Wendlyn presented his case to her parents.

“We know that your heir, Princess Lyria Whitethorn, lacks the magical talent necessary to rule your prosperous kingdom, and so we would propose an alliance. Queen Selene Whitethorn, Faerie Queen of the West, has suggested that her second-born son take up the mantle of King of Terrasen when Princess Lyria’s time comes. We request a marriage between the prince and the princess, if it would be-”

Rowan and Aelin were having none of it, barely able to disguise the disdain in their voices.

“You can tell Selene that it’s not happening. Our daughter is more than capable of ruling. If Selene is so shallow as to think that magic is what makes a good queen, then she can come to speak to us personally.”

“But- Your Majesties-”

“That is all we have to say.”

Lyria could barely hear the voices of her parents over the roaring in her head.

Other kingdoms thought she was weak?

That she wasn’t fit to rule?

Because she didn’t have magic?

Aelin caught sight of her daughter’s tensed jaw and clenched hands. She inclined her head ever so slightly towards the door, and Lyria nodded and left.

Barely contained rage shook her hands in a feeble effort to remain calm in front of the emissary; the façade broke as soon as she left the castle.

She sprinted down the gardens, crashing into Tristan but barely registering him as the ran.

Tearing through the palace at a blinding speed, she wanted to make it outside, anywhere, where no-one could see her cry.

She ran along the Florine River until her breath came out in ragged gasps and her legs burnt with exhaustion.

And collapsed on the river back, hunched over, and sobbed.

Meanwhile, Tristan, still bewildered, ran to Rowan and Aelin and demanded to know what was wrong with Lyria.

As soon as they told him what must have happened, he almost knocked over the emissary to get out of the door, before being stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

Rowan.

“If you see her cry, she’ll shut herself off from you completely. Give her space.”

Tristan gritted his teeth in attempt to stay calm, but exhaled and turned to the emissary, who paled at the anger in Tristan’s eyes.

Over the following weeks, Lyria wouldn’t be able to set foot in the palace without hearing some whisper about her being married off to the Crown Prince of Wendlyn, even though her parents had adamantly refused.

Some of the nobles had taken to giving her snide remarks masked in praise. Lyria, with her explosive temper, wasn’t the most favoured around the court, and so they took it upon themselves to belittle her as much as they possibly could.

And at every comment, she could feel the chains of her throne tightening around her.

Chains that had never been there before.

She took it all, digging her nails so hard into her palms that she bled.

Lyria trained harder, and for longer, to distract from the loss eating up inside her.

She spent time with Tristan, but felt more distracted.

She didn’t want to tell him her problems. He knew something was wrong, in fact, he knew exactly what was wrong, but he knew that she wouldn’t want to talk about it.

Tristan wanted to help her, but he opted to do as Rowan had told him. Give her space.

That didn’t stop him from shooting murderous looks at the nobles that bothered her. They blanched as they caught his stare, and hurriedly turned away from the princess.

Although she didn’t tell him directly, she was grateful for his help and support.

He helped her train, he left her when she wanted to be alone, he joined her on her exploits when she dragged him into them.

She was infinitely grateful to have such a friend.

But she didn’t tell him about the nights that she’d curl up in her bed and cry hot, frustrated tears. Nor did she tell him the disdain she’d grown towards the idea of love. 

Her parents had the perfect relationship. They were both carranam, mates, bloodsworn. They were equals in every way that mattered. 

But Queen Selene had been prepared for Lyria to marry her son in order to ‘strengthen the kingdom’.

Which would mean that she’d be forgotten on the sidelines. No magic, no importance.

Although she knew her parents would never allow such a thing to happen, it still hurt that other kingdoms and rulers thought of her in such a way.

“Lacks the magical talent necessary to rule your prosperous kingdom…”

The emissary’s words had never left her.

So, as she grew into a mighty heir who would one day rule Terrasen, she vowed to never let herself be shackled, demeaned, controlled.

She didn’t want to marry. No lover, no consort, and that would ensure that no-one could deny her the power she deserved.

She vowed to renounce the idea of love.

But, there was one problem.

Tristan.

#have more of the children #I've grown unnecessarily attached to them so... #yes #this is angsty. #I'm sorry #fanfiction #iron and steel #tog #throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #tower of dawn #kingdom of ash #the assassin’s blade #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowaelin #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #manorian

[dropletsofink]

Iron and Steel

[Part 1]

Summary: The story of Lyria Whitethorn, daughter of Queen Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and King Rowan Whitethorn, and Tristan Havilliard, son of Queen Manon Blackbeak-Crochan and King Dorian Havilliard

A/N: I initially started this in response to a post that said ‘imagine Manorian son and Rowaelin daughter falling in love’, but now I have a little bit of a story for them. Something to note: I will use the children I put in the ‘Rowaelin Children Headcanons’ I wrote, so refer back to that if you feel confused as to who I’m talking about. I’ll break this into a few parts. How many? Undecided as of now. But stay tuned! 

--

Tristan Havilliard, Crown Prince Of Adarlan, was truly a sight to behold.

He had inherited his father’s raven hair, quick wit and love for books, and from his mother, had taken her golden eyes and unbreakable discipline.

Not to mention that he had a set of iron teeth and nails, making him a rare-born male witch.

Tristan was only a couple of years older than Lyria Whitethorn, daughter of Queen Aelin and King Rowan, so they pretty much grew up together.

He was Lyria’s favourite sparring partner, her partner in crime, but also her biggest rival.

They wouldn’t be able to spend a day together without initiating some sort of explosive argument, whether about who was stronger, whose siblings were more annoying, etc.

And they’d always be seen moments later, patching up each other’s wounds and throwing insults with wicked smiles.

Rowan and Aelin would smile fondly at them, remembering their own fights in the woods surrounding Mistward.

“10 gold coins say that she’ll get the first blow”

“Make it 20, and I say that he’ll get in there first with his nails”

“Deal.”

When they weren’t fighting, Tristan would be sitting in the library with a pile of books his father gave him, and Lyria would be beside him, polishing a wicked-looking spear, while the library attendants eyed her warily.

Whether they were in Orynth or Rifthold, they would definitely find a way to get into trouble.

Tristan’s sharp tongue and Lyria’s impulsive temper weren’t exactly the easiest to keep discreet, after all.

Rumours had been whispered around all courts of their exploits, the fights that they would start in taverns and emerge from with bloodied faces and gleaming eyes, or the smugglers they would go head-to-head with, and emerge victorious.

Manon insisted that he learn how to fly Abraxos early, but Tristan hated the feeling of being suspended in the sky, likely to plummet at any moment. He preferred to keep his feet on the ground, much to Manon’s annoyance.

He loved Abraxos, though. He always doted on him and brought him bouquets of flowers when Manon wasn’t looking.

It’s just that he didn’t like to fly.

But Lyria? Manon often wondered if Lyria had somehow been the reincarnation of her Second, Asterin. As soon as she was allowed to fly Abraxos, she took to the skies, leaving Tristan on the ground a mixture of awed and terrified, bellowing with joy. 

“A fine witch she’d make, that one”, Manon would say

“Or the wife of one.” Dorian mutters, sneaking glances at his son.

It was when he was around 18 that he noticed that he felt...weird around Lyria.

Not that it was anything wrong, but he noticed that he’d often find it difficult to stay calm when he was around her.

Namely when it was just the two of them cruising through the cities together.

He’d started to notice how beautiful she really was. Sure, she’d always been pretty, what with her sparkling eyes and flowing hair, and lithe frame, but when Tristan caught glimpses of her laughing while they toured the markets in Rifthold, his heart skipped a beat.

And while he was his father’s son in most ways, he inherited none of his charm. Even when Dorian tried to teach him, it proved to no avail.

So you can imagine 18-year-old Tristan, blushing like a fool around Lyria.

However, although his feelings for Lyria only grew as time went on, he was terrified of letting it impact the deep-rooted friendship they’ d forged. So he resolved to keep them hidden.

Lyria, however, was completely oblivious to all things related to love.

From a young age, she claimed that she’d never let anyone chain her down, least of all a man, and despite her avid interest in romance novels, she stuck to that.

So she was completely unaware of Tristan’s feelings for her, but still considered him her closest friend.

Sam, however, was not as oblivious.

Neither was Aelin. Or Rowan. Or Dorian. Or Manon.

But whenever anyone tried to bring the topic up with Lyria, she’d merely shrug it off and change the subject.  

She didn’t have time for anything that could weaken her spirit.

Least of all, something that she had been mocked for, years ago. 

#throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #tower of dawn #kingdom of ash #the assassin's blade #aelin #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #dorian havilliard #manon crochan #manon blackbeak #fanfic #fanfiction #tog fanfic #tog

[tragcdysewn]

was that claire holt? oh no no, that was just manon blackbeak, a canon character from throne of glass. they are one hundred and sixteen years old and are aware that they are not actually from washington dc. too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

throne of glass spoilers below the cut

okay this is gonna be a long one so strap in folks

this is my beautiful lethal witch baby manon. i love her to death and so should you

she is the daughter of two warring witch species, the ironteeth and the crochans, and her parents believed she would be the key to uniting the witches and bringing them home to their native lands

her mother, lothian, the heir to the cruelest of the ironteeth clans, the blackbeaks, told manon’s grandmother who her father was right after her birth. her grandmother murdered her mother in cold blood and named manon the new heir, telling the clan lothian had died in childbirth

she later tracked down manons father, tristan, and killed him as well, but not before promising to turn the daughter he’d searched for into a brutal weapon

she succeeded, and manon became the leader of the ruthless coven the thirteen, gaining the title the white demon among the crochans, after she hunted down and slaughtered many of them, believing her grandmothers claims that she was born soulless

after the ironteeth allied with a demonic king and took several witches to breed new demons, manon began to doubt her grandmothers ‘wisdom’ for the first time. she killed another witch to save the good kings life, and her grandmother demanded her second in commands life in return

during the execution, manon turned on her grandmother, who revealed her lineage during the duel, along with the fact that the most recent crochan she’d slaughtered was her half sister, rhiannon

the thirteen got away, but manon barely survived, her wyvern bringing her to the king she’d saved for help

after she healed, she found the crochans, and convinced them she meant no harm. she killed one of the ironteeth matrons, and took the crochans stolen crown from them. the crochans named her their new queen.

she convinced many ironteeth to rebel, and led her witches into battle against the demon king, finally slaughtering her grandmother, though her thirteen were lost in a sacrifice to stop his ultimate weapon.

now she has returned her people to their home, and united under one queen, just as her parents wished

though she isn’t soulless, she is not soft. she will kill you with no hesitation, and has razor sharp iron teeth and nails to do it

this isn’t mentioned in canon, but as she is part crochan, she has access to crochan magic, a very different magic than the ironteeth, but she’s still learning

she’s only just arrived in dc, and she’s pissed about it honestly

i’m just sorry in advance for any and everything she does

#( && old intro ) #( && manon interacts ) #( && whatever doesn't kill me; better start running || manon blackbeak ) #( && she was crafted from the darkness between the stars || manon's musings ) #( && monsters are made; not born || manon's headcanons ) #( && wrong kind of witch || manon's aesthetics ) #blood tw #murder mention tw #death mention tw #war mention tw #child abuse tw