#Dorian and the red cloak

[jade0716]

Manon and Dorian are Mates: A Thesis

Now that we have more info on mates from CC, and with the speculation that the novel after the next acotar is a TOG one, I wanted to make a master post with all the evidence that I compiled that Manon and Dorian are mates. I even added dissenting opinions for the potential ones that could have other explanations because why not be thorough and impartial. AND I highlighted the ones in red that I felt like are absolutely evidence of mateness.

Here's hoping Sarah was dropping hints for a manorian spin off!!

TOG: 

I. Pg. 8 “On his black doublet, an emblazoned gold rendering a wyvern occupied the entirety of the chest. His red cloak fell gracefully around him and his throne”. 

the Adarlan colors being red and the symbol being a Wyvern. This may be coincidence since in the beginning SJM was planning a Celeana/Dorian end game but I think SJM chose to make the Crochan capes red to parallel the first time we see Dorian in TOG . Manon then bonding with Abraxos who is a wyvern is the icing on the cake.

Dissenting Opinion: The red cape was just a coincidence and red feels like the obvious color for witches given it is the color of blood. And the King of Adarlan/Erawan chose to breed wyverns because it was the symbol of house Havilliard.

QoS:

I. I know that the Valg eyes are why Manon was able to scare the Valg prince away in Dorian and pull him out of the possession. What interests me is:

Pg. 420, Roland was only able to regain control for a second after speaking to Manon before the demon took back over. I’m not going to quote this cause it’s the whole scene but go reread if you want. Dorian is able to beat the demon down and essentially say screw off while talking to Manon. Is it possible Dorian was able to regain control for a longer period of time because of a bond with Manon?

Pg. 463 “step away, get away. The demon prince inside him yanked so hard he took a step. But not away. Toward the white-haired witch”. Are we sure it’s the demon that was yanking him?? Especially since he was yanked towards her instead of away from her even though the demon wanted him away???

her name continued to ring in his head even after the demon took back over:

Pg. 469 “the words soon faded, swallowed up by screaming and blood and the demon’s cold fingers running over his mind. But those eyes lingered- and that name. Manon. Manon”

Pg. 518 “he could not remember a time when the demon had not been there inside of him. And yet- Manon.”

Is this a classic SJM easter egg similar to how we thought the bargain between Rhys and Feyre was the reason for the pull between them? Could she be trying to mislead the reader?

Dissenting Opinion: Manon's valg eyes and his want to be killed is why he remembers her name. He regained control longer because Dorian is stronger willed than Rolland.

II. Pg. 463, Dorian seeing Manon for the first time: “He’d never seen anyone so beautiful”. 

Sarah uses the “most beautiful person ever seen” repeatedly for her mated couples when they first meet. This could be writing style but it seems like a pattern in how she writes her mates meeting. I read ACOTAR and CC before TOG and when I read this line I was like yep they are mates seen this before.

Pg. 188 ACOTAR “standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen” - Feyre when seeing Rhysand for the first time 

Pg. 536 ACOMAF “you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I thought it from the first moment I saw you on Calanmai” Rhys about seeing Feyre the first time

In ACOWAR Lucien about Elain “she was the most beautiful female he had ever seen”.

Pg. 346 HOSAB “Ruhn found himself staring at the most beautiful female he’d ever seen” Ruhn seeing Lidia the first time.

Dissenting Opinion: Manon is canonically one of the most beautiful females in the world, especially because she is a witch designed to attract men.

III. pg. 492 “She stepped closer to the prince’s horse. ‘Dorian’… Sapphire eyes snapped to hers”..he remembered his name when she said it without looking into her Valg eyes. interesting.

IV. pg. 511 “Manon couldn’t tell why that thread kept yanking, why it felt so urgent, but she pushed them hard, all the way to Rifthold”. A thread is pulling her urgently towards Rifthold to save Dorian. Using the terms thread and Manon not knowing why it feels so important is so incredibly mate for shadowing.

Pg. 184 ACOTAR “go, a voice said, tugging at me. Go see.”

Pg. 412 ACOTAR “I was pulled from sleep by something tugging at my middle, a thread deep inside”. A THREAD.

Dissenting Opinion: Sarah does multiple times in TOG reference a tug pulling her main heroines to do things so this could just be the gods/fates pulling the thread.

V. pg. 640 “Dorian didn’t know what awoke him”. Some force awakens Dorian, he then goes out to his balcony and sees Manon outside.

Similar to Feyre being pulled to Rhys, Pg. 412 ACOTAR “I was pulled from sleep by something tugging at my middle, a thread deep inside"

Pg. 640 Manon says “she didn’t know why she’d bothered to go; why she’d been curious”. Manon Blackbeak, maneating witch, for no apparent reason, decides to go check up on a human man. Need I see more?

And again, her name echoes in his head (pg. 641) “through the darkness of his memories, through the pain and despair and terror he tried to forget, a name echoed in his head”. 

EOS:

I. Manon saving Dorian from the yellow legs (duh). She says her “instincts took over her” when she saw someone “taking her kill” ... then proceeds to rescue said kill. 

Pg. 44: “I have no doubt the Yellowlegs will try to claim his head. Stop any one of them who dares take it.”

Pg. 84: “And when Manon had spied that Yellowlegs sentinel perched inside the tower, readying to claim this kill for herself... a century of training and instinct had barreled into Manon. All it had taken was one swipe of Wind-Cleaver as Abraxos flew by, and Iskra's sentinel was dead.” WHAT INSTINCT? THE INSTINCT TO CLAIM YOUR KILL? Cause you actually rescued him afterwards not killed him sweetheart.

Clearly it wasn’t to claim the kill for herself. So what was it? Instinct? Helping the witches? She didn’t know of Dorian’s magic at this time, so how would saving Dorian help the witches? Seems like the instinct was from something else.

Pg. 85: “Some ancient, predatory part of her awoke at the half smile. It sat up, cocking its ears toward him”. Ancient and predatory? Mates.

II. The one million times Dorian protects her even though she starts off on Erawan’s side and he has no reason to be so protective:

Pg. 87: “Manon crashed to her knees. The king was instantly at her side, studying her for a heartbeat before he roared down the stairs, “NO!”” 

Pg. 369: ““No.” The word ripped from Dorian’s lips before he could think. But then it came out, over and over, as the wyvern and rider sailed closer to the ship. The witch was unconscious, her body leaning to the side because she was not awake, because that was blue blood all over her. Don’t shoot; don’t shoot— Dorian was roaring the order as he hurtled for where Fenrys had drawn his longbow, a black-tipped arrow aimed at the witch’s exposed neck. His words were swallowed by the shouting of the sailors and their captain. Dorian’s magic swelled as he unsheathed Damaris— “. This lowkey makes me chuckle like what is he gonna do with Damaris against a bunch of fae warriors lol.

Pg. 395: “Dorian didn’t feel like mentioning that he’d been the one who’d jumped into the water. He’d just … acted, as Manon had acted when she’d saved him in his tower. He owed her nothing less”.

Pg. 438: “Ice danced at Dorian’s fingertips as he slid beside Manon, still chained by the bed” when the bloodhound shows up on the ship.

Pg. 574: "That hunger shifted into something icy and vicious: 'You once asked me where I stand on the line between killing to protect and killing for pleasure'. His fingers grazed the seam of the scar across her abdomen. 'I'll stand on the other side of the line when I find your grandmother". Earlier in EOS Manon asks him why he didn’t make the bloodhound suffer, that there is a line even when it comes to their enemies. Apparently not when someone harms Manon.

III. Dorian’s magic reacting every time she is in danger or threatened:

Pg. 369: “His magic felt it before he did. A sense of awareness, of warning and awakening” when she comes in injured on Abraxos.

Pg. 369: “His words were swallowed by the shouting of the sailors and their captain. Dorian’s magic swelled as he unsheathed Damaris—“

Pg. 396: “Manon’s voice was flat and cold as death. “Tell Aelin Galathynius not to bother using me for negotiations. The Blackbeak Matron will not acknowledge me, either as heir or witch, and all you will get out of it is revealing your precise location.” His magic flickered. “What happened after Rifthold?”

Pg. 438: “Ice danced at Dorian’s fingertips as he slid beside Manon, still chained by the bed” when the bloodhound shows up on the ship.

Pg. 441: “Manon froze entirely. And didn’t particularly care as the Bloodhound lunged for her throat, teeth bared. It was not flame or wind that snapped the Bloodhound’s neck. But invisible hands. The crunch echoed through the room, and Manon whirled on Dorian Havilliard. His sapphire eyes were utterly merciless.”.

Pg. 457 ““If you were me,” Aelin murmured in a tone that had Dorian’s magic rising, ice cooling his fingertips. Aedion’s hand slid to his sword. “If you were me.” His magic flickering when Aelin RAISES HER VOICE at Manon (like come on this is mates shit).

Pg. 498-499: “ "As far as I recall,” Dorian went on with a sly grin, “you two—” The attack happened so fast that Aelin didn’t sense or see it until it was over. One moment, Manon was seated at the edge of the fire, the marshes a dark sprawl behind her. The next, scales and flashing white teeth were snapping for her, erupting from the brush on the bank. And then—stillness and silence as the enormous marsh beast froze in place. Halted by invisible hands—strong ones.” The fact that Dorian was mid sentence, not paying attention, and doesn’t even move a finger to protect her.

Even Aelin comments on it, Pg. 499: “But Dorian’s magic held the beast still, frozen with no ice to be seen. The same power as the one he’d wielded against the Bloodhound. Aelin surveyed him for any tether, any gleaming thread of power, and found none. He hadn’t even lifted a hand to direct it. Interesting.” IT IS INTERESTING AELIN. I also find it interesting that Aelin says the same power he wielded against the bloodhound, which was also to protect Manon.

Dorian about his magic sensing Rowan and Aelin’s bond, pg. 131, “His magic had felt the bond between Aelin and Rowan—the bond that went deeper than blood, than their magic, and he’d assumed it was just that they were mates, and hadn’t announced it to anyone.” Obviously later we find out it was because Aelin and Rowan were mates. So his magic canonically can sense a mating bond.

Also Rowan on Pg. 357 “I wanted to chuck you off a cliff, yet I bit you before I knew what I was doing. I think my body knew, my magic knew." His magic knew when he tasted her they were mates. Similar to how Dorian's magic has been acting? Like it knows something he doesn't?

VI. Pg. 575 “Manon thought the king tasted like the sea, like a winter morning, something so foreign and yet familiar it at last dragged that moan from deep in her.” The so foreign yet so familiar is so mate coded. Especially bc...

in HOF the Wastes are described as having winter mountains and near the western sea

Pg. 71: “To take our host to reclaim the Wastes from the mortal pigs who now dwell there." A fierce, wild thrill pierced Manon's chest, sharp as a knife. Following the Matron's gaze, Manon looked to the horizon, where the mountains were still blanketed with winter.”

Pg. 68: “Manon herself had never set foot in the former Witch Kingdom, had never seen the ruins or the flat, green expanse that stretched to the western sea.”

So it makes sense that the Wastes would smell of winter morning and the sea

VII. Pg. 577 “ Wondered what he’d say if she told him she’d wanted to sink her teeth into his neck and find out what he tasted like”.

Rowan on Pg. 357 “I wanted to chuck you off a cliff, yet I bit you before I knew what I was doing. I think my body knew, my magic knew. And you tasted …” Rowan loosed a jagged breath. “So good…” 

Manon in HOF Pg. 33: “The common, watery taste of the man, laced with violence and fear, coated her tongue, and she spat onto the wooden floorboards.”

Manon in QoS Pg. 463 “I’ve been with plenty of men. You’re all the same. Taste the same”. 

Manon has not shown to be particularly interested or intrigued by the blood of men aside from just to hunt and feed until Dorian. We also have Rowan describing how good Aelin tasted when he bit her and how he thinks "his magic knew". Is her attraction to Dorian’s blood because of this similar mating bond logic?

Dissenting Opinion: She just wants to taste Dorian's blood because she's attracted to him and so his blood is more enticing to her. She does say that the blood of the men at the Ferrian Gap distracts her in HOF, so obviously she sometimes does crave man blood.

KOA:

I. Again, we see Dorian’s magic reacting to her in a way instinctually

Cyrene attacks, pg. 78 “As Manon whirled, Dorian’s magic surged, already lashing at the unforeseen foe”

Manon fighting the Matrons, pg. 474 “Dorian’s magic writhed, seeking a way out, to stop this.”

Pg. 130: “Despite who walked ahead of them, behind them, Manon smiled slightly. He surprised her further by saying,"I've been tunneling into my power since they appeared. One wrong move from them, and I'll blast them into nothing." This is so touch her and you die vibes I love it.

Pg. 227: “ “I care.” His temper rose to meet hers. And he decided to hell with it—decided to let go of that leash he’d put on himself. Let go of that restraint. “I care about more than I should. I even care about you.” 

Same scene: Pg. 228: “Dorian smiled slightly, and fell asleep once more, letting his magic warm them both. When they awoke, something sharp in his chest had dulled—just a fraction…Where that edge had dulled in his chest, his magic now flowed freer. As if it, too, had been freed from those inner restraints he’d loosened slightly last night. What he’d opened up, revealed to her. A sort of freedom, that letting go."

This is right after he says he’s been trying with Vesta for days to get his eyes to change color and it hasn’t worked but one time with Manon and she warms his heart enough to let his magic go free.

When Maeve glamours as Manon to seduce Erawan, Pg. 639: “icy rage, pure and undiluted tore through Dorian as Manon stood before the Valg king.. Dorian focused upon his breathing, on the stones beneath him, anything to keep his magic from erupting at the desire on Erawan’s face” (also important bc when she glamoured as Aelin his magic didn’t do this!!!)

II. Pg. 225 ““Which do you like the best?”… “I like the ice best,” Dorian admitted at last, realizing he’d let the silence drip on. “It was the first element that came out of me—I don’t know why.” I know why!!

HOF pg. 230 “If Manon was ice and Asterin was fire, then Sorrel was rock.”

QOS pg. 68 “Asterin had always been that way—and that wildness was exactly why Manon had chosen her as her Second a century ago. The flame to Sorrel’s stone … and to Manon’s ice.”

III. Dorian refers to Manon as his equal, pg. 536 “she would be his wife, his queen. She was already his equal, his match, his mirror in so many ways”.

SJM is very consistent about mates being equals and being mirrors of each.

Quote from Tampon in ACOTAR: “High Fae mostly marry,' he said, his golden skin flushing a bit. 'But if they’re blessed, they’ll find their mate—their equal, their match in every way.” This is almost verbatim what Dorian said about Manon.

Feyre to the Suriel: “How can I possibly be his mate?' Mates were equals- matched, at least in some ways. '

Rowan about discovering Aelin is his mate pg. 678 EOS "His equal. His friend. His lover. His Wife. His mate."

IV. Also in this scene Dorian talks about wanting to “claim her” as his wife/queen... Pg. 538 “the temptation that his every instinct roared to claim. Not the body, but what she had offered…” This could just be SJM writing style (fair argument), but nevertheless "claim" VERY matey. Especially because "the claiming" is a thing. Some examples:

HOF Pg. 158: “the bite so strong and claiming that she was too stunned to move”

EOS Pg. 352: “You are mine,” Rowan breathed, and she felt the claiming in her bones, her soul.

EOS Pg. 422: “A claiming, mighty and true, that she understood he so desperately needed.”

Dissenting Opinion: This is just SJM's writing style. Just because the word claim is used doesn't mean they are mates.

V. Manon screaming his name when he almost dies pg. 133 "Manon bellowed his name, and Crochan arrows fired... Manon screamed his name again, but he couldn't move... Then there were iron-tipped hands gripping his shoulders, and gold eyes glaring into his own".

This reminds me of in HOF when Manon shoots Rowan with an arrow and Aelin screams his name

Pg. 477 QoS... "Aelin's scream echoed down the Ravine" when Rowan is shot.

Pg. 655 EOS Aelin admits to Maeve she knew Rowan was her mate, "The moment the arrow when through his shoulder. Months ago"

This is also parallelled by Dorian screaming for Manon when she is in danger in EOS:

Pg. 87: “Manon crashed to her knees. The king was instantly at her side, studying her for a heartbeat before he roared down the stairs, “NO!”” 

Pg. 369: ““No.” The word ripped from Dorian’s lips before he could think. But then it came out, over and over, as the wyvern and rider sailed closer to the ship. The witch was unconscious, her body leaning to the side because she was not awake, because that was blue blood all over her. Don’t shoot; don’t shoot— Dorian was roaring the order as he hurtled for where Fenrys had drawn his longbow, a black-tipped arrow aimed at the witch’s exposed neck."

Dissenting Opinion: Aelin tells Rowan she saved Manon because Asterin screamed her name the same way she screamed Rowan. So technically by this logic Asterin and Manon could be platonic mates. And maybe Manon just screams Dorian's name because she cares about him not anything to do with being mates. (Counter Argument- but then why did Dorian scream her name in EOS so aggressively when he didn’t even know her then??)

Debunking arguments against them being mates:

I. Mates are only fae.

Manon is part fae, so she could have a mate.

E.g. Bryce is half fae half human also and mated with Hunt (who confirmed in HOFAS is the product of two angels and not fae); Lorcan is a demi fae and can have a mate (believed to be Elide who is human but unconfirmed); Aelin is demi fae prior to forging the lock and is mated with Rowan.

I also cannot find anywhere there is a rule that you must have XYZ amount of fae blood to have a fae-like mate, just have to have some fae blood. But we don't really know what percentage of Manon is fae vs Valg. Given she is half Ironteeth and half Crochan, she likely falls around that 50% fae line which is just as much fae blood as Lorcan, Bryce, Aelin, etc.

II. The Crochans believe in Mates

It’s not confirmed whether the Crochans do or don't have the traditional fae mating bonds, however we learned in CC2 basically anyone can have a true mating bond as long as one person has fae blood, E.g. Bryce and Hunt.

pg. 139 EOS the Crochans "... had adopted the Fae habit of selecting mates- if not a true mating bond, then in spirit".

pg. 139, EOS Manon's grandmother says about her father "But he did not love her- not with your mother as his true mate, the song of his soul". This sounds to me like her parents were believed to be a true fae mating bond not just "in spirit".

Pg. 316 HOSAB "Angels have mates. Not as.. soul-magicky as Fae, but we call life partners mates in lieu of husbands or wives". Sounds like the Angels have a mating bond "in spirit" similar to the Crochans. Except that Hunt then truly "fae mated" Bryce, and he doesn't have any fae blood.

When then find out Hunt and Bryce are "true mates"; Pg.492 HOSAB "It means that he's going ballistic in the way that only mates can when the other is threatened. It's what happened then and happened now. You're true mates- the way Fae are mates, in your bodies and souls".

III. Fae can have non fae mates.

We see this with Rhys/Feyre, Cassian/Nesta where they felt a pull prior to Feyre and Nesta being fae but it clicked into place when they were made.

We also see Bryce/Hunt in CC that are different species and have a traditional fae mating bond.

There is also Elide/Lorcan and Gavin/Elena in TOG that are “mates” (unconfirmed since the humans never became fae). Fae queens Mab and Mora also give up immortality for their human "mates".

So it is canon that you can have inter species mates or human mates, it just may never "click" into place if they are human.

via Hunt and Bryce, we do know the bond can completely click (souls and scents merging, etc.) between "magical" species once it is accepted, but we do not have this evidence with fae and human bonds.

I also don’t believe Dorian is entirely human. But that is completely my speculation

Pg. 933 KOA " 'I am human.' It warmed in his hand... 'I am human," he repeated, to the stars now visible above the city. The sword didn't answer again. As if it knew he no longer needed it." Yes he is human but he can be other things too. Similar to Aelin's quote about being a human in a fae body below. They identify and choose their human moral side, but that does not mean there are parts of them that are not human.

Aelin KOA Pg. 723: "I am human, deep down, Faerie Queen nonsense aside. I had human parents, and their parents were human, mostly, and even with Mab's line running true... I'm a human who can turn into Fae. A human who wears a Fae body".

On par with the theme of "Be grateful for your human heart" (Rhys, ACOTAR)

Also curious as to whether he does or does not have valg blood from his father. Because he could also have fae blood (distantly) from Elena/Brannon/Mala (Valg + Fae= Witch?)

IV. The mating bond would have clicked when they fucked… I think we all know this ain’t true anymore (cough cough Nesta and Cassian). You can have sex but if you do not accept the bond it will not click.

Rowan also says on pg 396 HOF "Sometimes, mates can be together intimately before the actual bond snaps into place"

V. Wyrd/Urd/the Mother/Fate (aka Sarah) gets to decide whose mates and who isn't

The only thing Sarah has been clear about is that she can basically make anyone mates that she wants as long as one person has fae blood. And even then, there is very much a "fate like force" aka Wyrd/Urd/The Mother that is working to pull the strings of fate and make people mates.

This is why we see so many interspecies fae bonds throughout the series. There is the fae bond like Ruhn and Lidia, but then there are the fae bonds that the Mother is orchestrating in the background.

Hellas speaks to Lorcan and Hellas's consort, the goddess Annieth, speaks to Elide. Lorcan and Elide are never confirmed mates as Elide remains human and yet there are still signs she is his mate even as a human.

Rhys's mind has able to find Feyre's when she was still human years before they met. Yes he has demati abilities but finding Feyre's mind is because they were fated to be mates.

Adias says about Hunt and Bryce mating bond HOFAS, Pg. 551 "I think that was left to higher powers. Whatever they might be".

There is no special "formula" for a mating bond. It happens when fate demands. Therefore it logically makes sense why the Mother/Wyrd/Urd would manipulate fate to ensure that Dorian and Manon were mates because they needed Manon to get into the witch mirror and raise the witch forces. They needed Manon to unite with Brannon's heir to defeat Erawan and destroy the keys, whether that be Aelin or Dorian. A mating bond would ensure that.

Also Wyrd/Urd means fate/personal destiny in nors mythology —> https://www.mimisbrunnr.info/ksd-web-of-wyrd and https://norse-mythology.org/concepts/destiny-wyrd-urd/ (read these if you want to theorize about acotar)

In conclusion, I think they could be mates but it won't fully snap into place (they won't fully merge souls, scents, etc.) unless Dorian is somehow Made. The only evidence of interspecies true confirmed fae mating bonds is Bryce and Hunt, and while they were able to fully "click" without Hunt being fae, it is very unclear why this is other than "high powers". We do know though that human Elide was very likely Lorcan's true mate, but we were never told of any clicking between them on that fae physiological level. So it is safe to assume that for a mating bond between a human and fae it will not "click" into place unless that human is turned fae.

HOWEVER, I do think it is possible because of Dorian's raw magic, he could be a rare exception to this rule similar to Hunt. So maybe it just has not clicked because Manon and Dorian have not accepted it. Which would also make sense given the nature of their relationship through most of the series, them denying their feelings to each due to their emotional unavailability.

Dissenting Opinion: But we also don't know how the angels were created by the Asteri, so maybe Hunt is "made" and not actually an exception.

Anyway, there's my evidence. There was some more evidence that I had and then removed because even though I think it is proof of a deeper connection I didn't think it was mate related (e.g. Abraxos taking Manon to Dorian when she says take me somewhere safe, I came to the conclusion that that showed Abraxos's awareness in protecting Manon).

Here are the links to some other tumblr posts on them being mates. I did look at these when putting this together so full credit to those individuals :)

#manorian #manon x dorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #togcouples #dorian x manon #throne of glass #they are mates and I will not be silenced

[biorust-art]

Blue Bard (Beloved)

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[Image Description. Digital painting of Dorian Storm from Critical Role. He poses as if in a traditional painting, body facing to the left and looking up and to the right. He sits at a table playing his lute. Around him is a tavern mug some gold and silver coins, sheet music and a few forget me nots. He wears his hair up in his canonical bun, but wears a different but similar outfit; A blue high collar shirt with an orange drape over his shoulder, a dark cloak pined by a silver wing pendant and a lot of silver rings, bracelets, necklaces and earrings. He also hs forget me nots in his hair. The background is a dark red with curtains to one side of him and a wooden wall to the other. Slightly faded golden musical notes are floating above him. End ID]

#dorian storm #critical role #bells hells #bronte wyvernwind #much more proud of this than the previous vers i posted

[rufousnmacska]

Firsts

A manorian one shot that has all my usual tropes. I have a long standing head canon that Manon secretly watches Dorian a lot. She thinks it’s just out of curiosity since he’s a human. And that’s part of it, but there’s a bit more 😏. Also, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about all the first times they didn’t get in the books. So here are some, thrown into one fic.

Thanks to @mrstrafalgardshanks (for sparking some parts of this fic) and @itach-i (for her beta reading and constant manorian trashiness)! ❤️❤️

***

The heavy rain darkened the red of her cloak, turning it into a deep wine color. This was lucky, Manon thought. The cloak was the best way to hide her white braid and allow her the freedom to sneak in without being seen. A group of merchants sped by, heading for the castle entrance, and she jogged to catch up with them. The guard waved them in out of the weather, not looking twice as she pretended to be with them.

She’d never been in the castle. At least, not this part. She’d watched his balcony for hours that one night so long ago. Then she’d seen his bedroom. After it was destroyed by that Yellowlegs bitch. Manon grinned, remembering how Abraxos had disposed of the witch’s wyvern with one snap of his ironteeth. She’d never been able to feel remorse over that. Not when Dorian had been so close to his end.

They’d written, but this would be the first time seeing each other since the war. Manon had decided on a whim to come, and here she was. The sleepless nights had caught up so quickly. Meetings with her council passed without much input from their queen, and she’d begun to forget things. When Petrah offered to oversee the Wastes, to give Manon a break, she hadn’t argued. If nothing else, her kingdom deserved a queen who could remember the orders she’d given. A few days away might bring her back to herself.

Watching Rifthold’s people filter through the entrance hall into the throne room, she peered through her hood at the faces. The nobility and upper classes wore the usual pinched expressions of wealth and privilege, making her wonder how closely they’d allied themselves with Erawan to survive the war with their riches intact. The thought made her cheeks heat in rage.

The others, civilians wearing dingier clothing and awed looks at their surroundings, had suffered. These were the residents left homeless by the witches and valg king. Conscripted into Erawan’s monster army, set free by Southern Continent healers, and likely left with no memory of those months. If they were lucky. It struck her how difficult his job as king would be in the coming years.

As Manon skirted around the walls, she remembered Dorian’s most recent letter. He’d written about the nightmares he’d been having, images of pain and hell inflicted by his own hands. Images of those hands morphing into his father’s.

Perhaps that was why she hadn’t argued with Petrah. It made a good excuse to come here. To check on a friend.

A loud, vivacious laugh caught her ear and she saw Yrene across the crowd. Quickly, Manon pulled her hood a little tighter, hoping the material was still dark enough to blend in.

The line to speak to the King was long and enough people had come simply to watch that Manon was able to get into the throne room unseen. Taking a spot in the back corner, she resisted the urge to stand on something in order to actually see the throne.

She didn’t know why she was sneaking. It felt ridiculous. Childish.

But the thought of having planned a visit, or being received as the Witch Queen, with all the pomp and attention it required, made her skin itch. She’d considered waiting for him in his rooms and surprising him. But after sending Abraxos away to hunt at the city wall when they’d arrived, she’d heard about the Audience with the King happening that day. It would be boring, of course, watching Adarlanians petition Dorian for things or settle disputes. But her curiosity had been piqued. As a queen, she’d wondered how his court was run and thought this might be a good learning experience.

She hadn’t really thought it through though. It was impossible to hear and she could not get a clear view of him no matter how high she stood on her toes. There were simply too many people.

About to give up and go find a way into his rooms, Manon pushed through the people in front of her. Suddenly, and for just a moment, there was a break in the crowd.

Dorian was sitting at a table, Chaol next to him along with others. Advisors, she guessed. The throne sat empty behind him. A couple was speaking to him, gesturing wildly to a snarling merchant. Dorian wrote quickly while the others at the table listened.

When he finally looked up, she got her first sight of his face in months.

His black hair had grown, curling around his crown. But other than that, he looked the same - bronze skin, a quick smile, and sparkling blue eyes. Even from this distance, the sunlight caught his eyes.

But no, she realized, as something else sparkled too. He was different.

His crown.

She’d never seen him with it on.

It was a thick band of gold with three large stones, rubies, set along the front. Simple, but well crafted. There were designs incised along the band but she couldn’t make out the detail.

He looked like a king.

Her king.

The break filled in again and she was shuffled aside, back against the wall. Growling under her breath at the rudeness, she regretted being disguised and almost reached for a dagger.

As she turned to leave, that thought - her king - fluttered into her mind again. But she pushed it away and focused on the shove by the crowd, letting her annoyance take over as she left the castle.

…

Dorian closed his door and sagged against it, exhausted by the day and so many people. This was the fourth audience held in Rifthold since the war. After the first one, he’d called for a table and abandoned his throne, wanting to actually get something accomplished. He’d started the practice with the hopes of letting his people see him, speak to him. Trust him. And while that seemed to be happening, albeit very slowly, a part of him was regretting it.

It was the same part that longed for the adventures and romance that he read about in his novels. The part that wanted to be a normal man, anonymous and irresponsible.

But that part was small enough that he could tuck it away and forget about it.

Not the longing for romance though. Golden eyes, moon white hair, a fleeting smile given only to him. That was something Dorian refused to forget, even if it might not ever happen.

We’ll see.

Those two words spoken with that not-quite-there smile. Manon had looked at him, smiled at him, when she said them. The hope she’d sparked that day still filled him. Especially on nights like this when he was dead tired yet afraid to try and fall asleep.

Pulling himself away from the door, he strode through his outer rooms into the bedroom. Dorian glanced at his desk and thought about writing to her. But he’d just sent a letter last week. He should at least wait for a reply. With a laugh at himself, he thought he should try to maintain some semblance of control.

Grabbing a glass, he poured himself some wine and stared at the mess around his desk. Piles of books, papers, even some containers of soil that were given to him by a farmer at the last audience day. The man insisted his additions to the soil would improve crops across the kingdom. Dorian kicked at one, telling himself he needed to look into the claim.

After draining his wine, Dorian put the glass atop a stack of novels and reached for his crown.

“Leave it on.”

Dorian spun, his magic noticeably not flaring to defend him.

Manon sat on his bed, back against the headboard, her bare feet crossed, a book open in her lap.

As he stared at her, trying to decide if she was real or a figment of his imagination, she stood and walked toward him.

Her eyes, glowing in the light of the fire, caught on his crown. “It looks good on you,” she said.

Real. Her scent, her presence, her voice filled him.

“Hello witchling.”

Manon smiled then. A true smile. For him.

“Hello princeling.”

She reached for his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. Dorian watched, using every bit of self control he had to let her undress him. It struck him that they’d never done this before. Every other time had been hurried, either to avoid the cold or to pretend there was nothing between them. Hell, they’d never even used a real bed.

So he let her slowly unbutton his shirt, let her remove her leathers, enjoying the show she made of it, his eyes drinking her in, her eyes never leaving his.

And when she led him to his bed, he kept his crown on.

…

The next morning, Dorian woke early to send two messages - one to Chaol canceling all his meetings that day, and one to the kitchens for enough food to last until tomorrow. Then he returned to bed, where Manon still slept.

Later, when they were enjoying a very late breakfast in in bed, he caught her smiling. “Is something funny?” he asked lightly.

Manon bit into a piece of bacon and looked around the room. He followed her gaze but saw nothing amusing.

“I’ve never spent a day lazing around in bed,” she finally replied. “Unless I was injured. I suppose with all your many lovers, this is nothing new for you.” She was teasing him, but he responded seriously.

“You’ve never done this? Never wanted to stay with someone after?” He saw the answer in her face, the way her smile faded. Pushing the tray of food away, he pulled her onto him, her legs straddling his waist. “Ask me who I will do this for now,” he demanded.

Manon said nothing, but the heavy rise and fall of her chest gave away her excitement.

Dorian kissed her, using his magic to pin her hands behind her back and yank her closer while his real hands tangled in her hair. Her teeth scraped over his lip and he moaned.

“Ask me.” His voice was rough and commanding as he freed her mouth to speak.

Barely a whisper, she said, “Who.”

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, letting her squirm in his lap as his magic caressed other spots. When she groaned, a mix of pleasure and annoyance, he said, “Just you, witchling. No one else.”

…

Manon was so close to the edge, driven there by his lips and phantom touch and the sharp demand in his voice. But those words pulled her back. The promise, the declaration of … something … something they couldn’t say. Yet.

The thought of that yet made her soften in his arms. He felt it and dropped his forehead to rest on hers. “Just you, princeling.” She saw his smile, his relief.

That promise, that declaration in her words cracked a barrier inside her. Slowly, tentatively, she cupped his cheek and said, “Tell me about your nightmares.”

Dorian’s eyes flashed, either from her touch or the question. But instead of answering, he ran a knuckle under both of her eyes. “Will you tell me about yours?”

Manon nodded.

Then he kissed her, so softly and tenderly, it could have been her first kiss. It took her a moment to open her eyes and when she did, Dorian was smiling at her. She couldn’t help but return it, and soon they were laughing, at what, she didn’t know. But it felt good. Right.

They spent the rest of that day and night in and out of bed, never leaving his rooms.

Dorian taught her how to luxuriate in a hot bath, kept warm by his magic. Manon taught him how to properly sharpen the dagger Sorrel had given him a lifetime ago. He showed her the symbols on his crown, which was heavier than she’d expected.

They spoke of their nightmares, of how last night was the first time either had slept, truly slept, in forever. They shared their worries of ruling, each boosting the resolve of the other.

The next day, they had breakfast with Chaol and Yrene. Their baby stared at Manon, making her fidget in her chair despite Yrene’s reassurances that Josie was always like this with new people. Everyone watched, Chaol nervously and Dorian amused, as Yrene sat the babe in Manon’s lap.

Manon held her carefully, not wanting to drop her. Josie reached for Manon’s braid and tugged on it playfully. When she cooed, everyone laughed. That was when she realized she’d never held a baby before. She wondered how different her life, the world, everything, would be if Asterin’s witchling had lived.

Sensing the change in her mood, Dorian reached over and took Josie, distracting them all by bouncing her on his knee until she broke into a fit of giggles. Manon caught his eye and he winked at her.

A day later, Manon said goodbye to her new friends. And Dorian. It was harder to leave this time than it had been in Orynth. He walked with her to the city wall where she’d find Abraxos. They were both hooded and cloaked to avoid stares. And he held her hand - another first, and probably not the last - as he led her through streets and alleyways.

But she would return. And he would visit her. Soon. Because they’d both agreed, though not with words, that this time together had been important. They needed each other. And while she didn’t understand the full implications of that, yet, she knew it felt right. He felt right.

Her king, and his queen.

***

Thanks for reading!

Fanfic master list

And to the anon/s who sent a few requests a while back, thanks for your patience! I’ll try to get to those soon. 🤗

#manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #my writing #sarah j. maas #manorian fanfiction

[greypetrel]

Last Resorts of Good Men - Aftermath

Who else wanted to hug Dorian after Last Resorts of Good Men, tho? I'm sure I'm not the only one, come on, and this scene lives in my head rent-free.

Some feelZ I wrote more extensively here, an extract under the cut!

It’s a couple of hours before Dorian gets out of the tavern, and finds Lavellan napping against the wall just out of the tavern’s door, sitting on a stool and propped against the white lime of the outer wall, tucked securely in her cloak and feet well planted on the sittee, nose and cheeks red from the cold.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up…”

He shakes her delicately by her shoulder, meeting her eyes as she bats her lashes as she realises where she is and whom she’s looking at, just awake. Her eyes are red and a little puffy still, making her irises even greener than usual by contrast.

“What time is it?” She asks, groggily.

“Time for you to stop falling asleep in the snow, before your dashing Commander will have my head.”

“Mpf, it was only a nap.”

“I know, it’ll get me some good money on Varric’s poll. Come on.”

There is sarcasm and friendly teasing in the hole he leaves behind, raising up and reaching to fumble with the horse pasturer the elf has put on on both of the animals in the meanwhile. None of them fills the gap, tho, settling to work in silence, fitting in each other’s space automatically and not looking at the hole that’s still there. It’s the hug she didn’t give him in Skyhold nor in the day and a half of travel, it has the shape of Felix, putting them both at ease when they’re both to tired and upset to speak anymore. It’s the two hours that passed since Aisling left the two Pavus alone, and the incognita of the future. It’s the place they fit with each other with the ongoing rumour about them, and the fact that they’re by default unfounded, but by default they can’t be ignored. It’s the small, crucial, little chance one of them just had, and the small, crucial difference it painfully highlighted.

They walk out of the village still in silence, Aisling helping Dorian up cupping her hands without him asking, to offer a step closer to the saddle. He just nods in thanks, she oomphs when he steps on her hands, pushing him up. She mounts second, clicking her tongue to signal both horses to start. As it starts snowing lightly, she slips out her hood, pointing her nose up and breathing deeply.

The path needs to wind up an ill, running on the hilltop and looking out at misty valleys, grey and white all around dotted by black trees and still green conifers, before someone speaks again. And it’s Dorian.

“He says we’re alike. Too much pride.” He explains, words coming out slowly and heavily, and as she turns her head towards him, horses walking side by side, the snow falling too light to really pose a concern to be blocked down, his head is turned towards the hills, looking at everything and at nothing at all. “Once I’d been overjoyed to hear him say that, you know. Now… Now I’m not certain. I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

She knows when he’s faking a laughter, when he’s bitchy and snappy because he’s tired or upset or hungry, when he’s sincerely happy. She has never heard him this down, tho, and it clenches her heart painfully. She has a question on her tongue, about what and how, but it can wait until later. Not now, not here.

“Are you all right?” Is all she can ask, now, delicately.

“No.” He sighs, deeply. “Not really.”

He turns towards her, pulling the reins to bring the horse closer. With little success, and it’s mostly the elf who needs to slower and manoeuvre a little to pull them side by side, as much as it’s possible.

“Thank you for bringing me out here.” He continues, looking at her, finally. “It’s not what I expected but… It’s something. Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display…”

He snorts, the deprecating irony still something to patch the hole that’s still there. But it’s just them, out there, no one around to see them or mind two random travellers on the road. So, she can stretch a hand, making grabby motion to beckon him on. He huffs, shaking his head but still grabbing her hand, a little unsurely.

“I think you have a huge heart that you don’t get yourself credit for, and that you’re very brave.” She replies, squeezing his fingers to underline it.

“Brave?”

“It’s not easy to abandon tradition and to walk your own path, is it.”

A pause, he doesn’t reply, just motions to let go of her hand, but she doesn’t follow it, still letting them hang between them. It’s not so comfortable, on horseback, but she cares little, leaning a little on the side against him, as much as she can without Walter mistaking it for a command. Luckily the fourier isn’t the brightest of horses, or the more attuned with her, and doesn’t veer.

“I wouldn’t have made it, in your place, and… I’m sorry, about before.”

“What for?”

“I didn’t push you to do anything you didn’t want, did I?”

“You horrible person, push me to do what?” “To bridge a gap you maybe didn’t want to cross. I… I never wanted to know my mother’s name.”

There’s another pause, and Aisling is the one, now, to look away, words coming out of her mouth automatically.

“It’s not to… Take the attention away, I swear, it’s just…” She huffs, shrugging her shoulders. “Some Dalish clans don’t accept more than three mages. The Keeper, the First and the Second apprentices. If another child shows magic, they’re either adopted by other clans, or… or left in the woods. That what happened to Minaeve, she was lucky to be found and brought to a Circle. I was luckier, the Lavellans had just a First apprentice, and I was adopted by them. I didn’t speak for two months, when I realised that my mother didn’t follow me. Sometimes parents cross the clans as well, but mines… Didn’t.”

It's Dorian’s turn to squeeze her fingers, and she cracks a smile, squeezing back at the gesture.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. But… I don’t know, I think it must count as something that your father came all the way down here to see you. That he actually looked for you and tried to fix it. But I hope I didn’t push you, did I? Maybe you didn’t want to, and that’s-“

“How do you- What- Can you maneuvre the mega-fauna some more??” He grumbles, now tugging at her hand and flapping the reins about, frowning at the horse.

Aisling giggles, asking what he wants to do, and devising a plan that just makes him fumble with uneasiness and worry, as she slips her feet away from the stirrups and carefully, cooing at the horses, steps from one to the other to sit in front of the Tevinter, with both her legs dangling on the side of poor, good Gwinevere and snaking her arms around Dorian’s torso. He grumbles a little that this seems like a much dangerous situation and they’re both gonna break their necks in a very stupid death, but as she squeezes him, laughing and promising him some riding lessons, he hugs her back, holding tight. It’s long overdued and none of them let go, settling against the other more comfortably: it’s just them, out there, no one’s rushing them over, no one’s watching or spreading rumours, they can just be, and fill the hole of before together.

“It’s ok. You’re not alone, you know?” She whispers, rubbing circles on his back as she feels him shivering.

He snorts, and hugs her tighter nevertheless, shaking his head a little -his moustaches tickle her cheek, making her giggle again.

“Look at you, already catching on the road of perdition of Dalish scandalous nonchalance about physical contact…” She teases, just to lighten the mood a little, but far from letting him go. Oh, she has needed a hug herself since she woke up on the mountain, cold as hell, under her weight in pelts, and with a dislocated shoulder she was forbidden to move, and she’s not letting go before he does.

“It’s definitely all your fault, you see, your mushiness is contagious. Mother was never a hugger either...” It’s self-derogatory again, but this time there’s no Vivienne to shoo her away, nor distance or holes that need to be filled.

“Mh, lucky I’m here to give all the hugs you’re owed, then…”

“Lucky indeed…”

They stay there for some more, the horses deciding to stop on their own, the snow giving them privacy and silence. It’s been the week, and none is really in a hurry to get back and put up masks again. But just for here, and now, they can let everything go and just breathe and exist. For once, it’s not Aisling the first to start crying.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #da fanart #dorian pavus #inquisitor lavellan #lavellan #da: i #sketch #sketchbook #aisling lavellan #dragon age oc #oc love #traditional art #da fic #writing #greypetrel

[wingedblooms]

Seed of power

This is a Maasverse post, and as such, there are spoilers for all Maas series. Proceed with caution.

In the tog series, we learn the art of shifting from Cyrene, a spider who weaves silk as colorful as the thread of Hope and devours dreams and life and joy. Manon calls Cyrene sister, as both share demon (Valg) blood, and the spider confirms that they are two faces of the same dark coin; sisters in spirit, if not in flesh (hof). Manon steals the silk for her wyvern and Cryene later tracks her down through scent alone in the form of a Crochan witch, which is how she finds herself at the mercy of Dorian’s curiosity. 

She’d returned to her human form, her dark hair tangled, bundled in a Crochan cloak. As if one of them had taken pity on her. Not realizing the hunger in Cyrene’s eyes wasn’t for the goat stew.

Dorian kept his stance relaxed, even as he asked again, “Where does the shifting come from inside you?”

Cyrene angled her head as if listening to something. “It was strange, mortal king, to find that I had a new place within me with the return of magic. To find that something new had taken root.” Her small hand drifted to her middle, just above her navel. “A little seed of power. I will the shift, think of what I wish to be, and the change starts within here first. Always, the heat comes from here.” The spider settled her stare on him. “If you wish to be something, king-with-no-crown, then be it. That is the secret to the shifting. Be what you wish.” (koa)

-

Dorian put a hand on his stomach, despite the layers of clothes and cloak. Only toned muscle greeted him. “Is that what you do to summon the change: first think of what you want to become?”

“With limits. I need a clear image within my mind, or else it will not work at all.”

“So you cannot change into something you have not seen.”

“I can invent certain traits—eye color, build, hair—but not the creature itself.” A hideous smile bloomed on her mouth. “Use that lovely magic of yours. Change your pretty eyes,” the spider dared. “Change their color.” (koa)

-

Cyrene chuckled. “Do not think of the eye color so much as demand it.”

“How did you learn this without instruction?”

“The power is in me now,” the spider said simply. “I listened to it.” (koa)

This conversation between Cyrene and Dorian reminded me of the line of inquiry Elain pursues with Amren in acofas.

Mor opened her mouth, laughter dancing on her face, but Elain asked, “Could you have done it? Decided to take a male form?”

The question cut through the laughter, an arrow fired between us. 

Amren studied my sister, Elain’s cheeks red from our unfiltered talk at the table. “Yes,” she said simply. “Before, in my other form, I was neither. I simply was.” 

“Then why did you pick this body?” Elain asked, the faelight of the chandelier catching in the ripples of her golden-brown braid. 

“I was more drawn to the female form,” Amren answered simply. “I thought it was more symmetrical. It pleased me.” 

[...]

And Elain asked, “And once you were in this body, you couldn’t change?” 

Amren’s eyes narrowed slightly. I straightened, glancing between them. Unusual, yes, for Elain to be so vocal, but she’d been improving. Most days she was lucid—perhaps quiet and melancholy, but aware. 

Elain, to my surprise, held Amren’s gaze. 

Amren said after a moment, “Are you asking out of curiosity for my past, or your own future?”

The question left me too stunned to even reprimand Amren. The others, too. 

Elain’s brow furrowed before I could leap in. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no going back to being human, girl,” Amren said, perhaps a tad gently. (acofas)

There’s no going back to being human unless Elain possesses the power to walk in another’s skin, to shape-shift, like Cyrene. Two key parts of Cyrene’s explanation stood out to me–she relies on her sight as inspiration for shifting and she learned the power that she received in a trade by listening to it. Curiously, those two senses are key parts of Elain’s powers: 

Elain cocked her head, as if listening to some inner voice. “Yes.”

Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before. (acowar)

-

Elain had been told—by Amren. She now sat at the table, more straight-backed and clear-eyed than I’d seen her. Had she beheld this, in whatever wanderings that new, inner sight granted her? Had the Cauldron whispered of it while we’d been away? I hadn’t the heart to ask her. (acowar)

Could Elain have learned how to wield her powers from the Cauldron’s whisperings? She is as curious as Dorian and often asks questions, learning without formal training. Could she even possess raw magic, the ability to shape her own magic and destiny? The Cauldron did give her such powers:

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain … Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something… It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. (acowar)

And rather than referring to these powers as “Sight,” Amren is also strangely vague about the nature and extent of Elain’s powers. 

“And do not forget that Nesta herself—and Elain, with whatever powers she has—is here. Feyre is here. All three sisters blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match your own.” (acosf)

If Nesta and Amren shared otherworldly eyes, might Elain and Amren share otherworldly forms as their parallel dinner conversation suggests? Rhys conveniently draws the connection between them for us again: 

“Some were as lovely as you, Elain,” Rhys said from beside Feyre, “from the outside. But once they set foot into the arena of battle, they became as bloodthirsty as Amren.” (acosf)

We see Amren’s bloodthirsty form unleashed on the battlefield, drinking in the deaths of those who run from her.

She exploded from that mortal shell, light blinding us. Light and fire. 

She was roaring—in victory and rage and pain. And I could have sworn I saw great, burning wings, each feather a simmering ember, spread wide. Could have sworn a crown of incandescent light floated just above her flaming hair.

She spread those wings, flame and light rippling to encompass her, no more than a burning behemoth that swept down upon Hybern’s armies. They began running. 

Amren came down on them like a hammer, raining fire and brimstone.

She swept through them, burning them, drinking in their death. Some died at the mere whisper of her passing. (acowar)

Amren behaves like an otherworldly bird of prey, and since running activates a predator’s hunting instincts, Rhys tells allies not to run. Like Amren, Elain may also transform into a flying predator (owl, witch, Illyrian, sphinx…if she’s a full-powered shape-shifter, the sky is the limit…or is it? More on that in Groundings.)

@truthflower19 suggested that Elain’s powers could also be connected to Ragana, a witch in Baltic mythology with the power of Sight and shape-shifting abilities. It seems like Ragana was conflated with Laima, or Laumé, at some point, and referred to as laumé-ragana. Laumé were woodland fairies (or maybe even a benevolent deity) who were associated with pregnant women, birth, and fate; they could take different forms or change others into different forms. Laumé were also associated with domesticity and had a talent for weaving, which brings us back to shapeshifting. 

His magic could leap between one element and another, yet the ability to shift lay within something else entirely. Lay within a part of him that had always yearned for one thing above all others: to let go. To be free. As Temis, Goddess of Wild Things, was free—uncaged. As he had once wished to be, when he had been little more than a reckless, idealistic prince. 

It was the magic’s sole command: let go. Let go of who and what he’d become since that collar and emerge into something new, something different.

[...]

“What are you trying to turn into, exactly? Or who?” 

The opposite of what he was. The opposite of the man who’d overlooked Sorscha’s presence for years. And offered her only death in the end. He’d be glad to let go of it, if only the magic would allow him. 

“Nothing,” he said. Many of the Thirteen and Crochans went back to their meager meals at his dull response. “I just want to see if it’s possible, for someone with my manner of magic. To even change small features.” Not a lie, not entirely. 

Manon frowned, as if trying to work out some puzzle she couldn’t quite grasp.

 “But were you to succeed,” Glennis pressed, “who would you wish to be?” 

He didn’t know. Couldn’t conjure an image beyond empty darkness. Damaris, at his side, would have no answer, either. 

Dorian peered inward, feeling the sea of magic that roiled inside him. He traced its shape with careful, invisible hands. Followed a thread within himself not to his gut, but to his still-cracked heart. Who do you wish to be? There, like the seed of power that Cyrene had stolen, it lay—the little snarl in his magic. Not a snarl, but a knot—a knot in a tapestry. One that he might weave. 

One he might fashion into something if he dared. 

Who do you wish to be? he asked the barely woven tapestry within himself. Let the threads and knots take form, crafting the picture within his mind. Starting small. 

Glennis chuckled. “Your eyes are green now, king.” Dorian started, heart thundering. The others again halted their lunches, gaping, some leaning in to peer at him more closely. But he fed his magic into the loom within himself, adding to the emerging picture. 

“Och, golden hair does not suit you at all.” Asterin grimaced. “You look sickly.” 

Who did he wish to be? Anyone but himself. But what he’d become. (koa)

Dorian wishes to become something different. In order to change his outward appearance, he peers inward and weaves a picture in his mind. Rhysand uses similar language to consider the possibility of Elain’s transformation: 

He surveyed the study as he thought. “But I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she’d disappoint you all.” He sighed toward the ceiling. “With time and safety, perhaps we’ll see a different side of her emerge.” (Feysand bonus) 

It’s interesting that her physical appearance is emphasized and remarked upon repeatedly, including the scene in which she is Made.

More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water. And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown. 

Her legs were so pale—so delicate. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them bare.

The queens pushed forward. Alive, she had to be alive, had to have wanted to live— 

Elain sucked in a breath, her fine-boned back rising, her wet nightgown nearly sheer. And as she rose from the ground onto her elbows, the gag in place, as she twisted to look at me— Nesta began roaring again. 

Pale skin started to glow. Her face had somehow become more beautiful—infinitely beautiful, and her ears … Elain’s ears were now pointed beneath her sodden hair. (acomaf)

Elain’s primary asset, as a proper lady, is her beauty, and it has functioned as a cage of sorts, which is why it’s interesting her mother says this: 

Elain is pleasant to look at, her mother had once mused while Nesta sat beside her dressing table, a servant silently brushing her mother’s gold-brown hair, but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. She will be an asset on the marriage market for us one day, if that beauty holds, but it will be our own maneuverings, Nesta, not hers, that win us an advantageous match. (acofas)

This statement is ominous, but it follows the ponderings of Rhys and Feyre in their bonus chapter. We will see a different side (or form?) emerge and it won’t be as innocent or sweet as expected. 

Dorian references the Goddess of Wild Things in his thoughts about shape-shifting. As @psychologynerd and I discussed, Temis is an interesting word choice on Sarah’s part. Themis is the Greek goddess of law and order, and she is associated with oracles and prophecies. Perhaps it isn’t a coincidence that many of those with Sight navigate different forms. They are connected to the gods, whose own forms are fluid. Elain’s Sight could certainly help her shape-shift, providing many images from which she can weave a new form. 

The use of weaving in Dorian’s informal lesson reminds me of Elain’s presence in the weaver scene with Feyre in acofas. She is openly curious about the weaver’s ability to create Void (darkness) and Hope (iridescent light). @silverlinedeyes wondered a long time ago if Elain could use this woven Void to shadow walk in her story, and I have a few related ideas on how it might be wielded. The first relates to shifting form, and the second involves moving like a force as Urd does (more on the latter in the Song of the wind and Groundings). If Elain can weave a new form, like the goddess of fate, how might this power manifest? Is she a full-powered shape-shifter? 

For a breath she wished for a shape-shifter’s heart so she could shed her skin and weave herself into something else, the music or the wind, and blow across the world. (hof)

Full-powered shape-shifters can replicate someone’s form, making it an incredibly powerful ability. Shape-shifters are spies and thieves and assassins. 

A sly cat’s glance in Aelin’s direction. Rowan, seated on Aedion’s right, cocked his head to the side. “Do you need an introduction?” Lysandra’s smile grew. “I like your fangs,” she said sweetly. Aelin choked on her grape. Of course Lysandra did. Rowan gave a little grin that usually sent Aelin running. “Are you studying them so you can replicate them when you take my form, shape-shifter?” Aelin’s fork froze in midair. “Bullshit,” Aedion said. All amusement had vanished from the courtesan’s face. Shape-shifter.

Holy gods. What was fire magic, or wind and ice, compared to shape-shifting? Shifters: spies and thieves and assassins able to demand any price for their services; the bane of courts across the world, so feared that they’d been hunted nearly to extinction even before Adarlan had banned magic. (qos)

Lysandra, a full-powered shape-shifter, used her gift to survive and found that things came easier to her when she wore more beautiful faces. 

“I used my abilities. Sometimes I was human; sometimes I wore the skins of other street children with high standing in their packs; sometimes I became an alley cat or a rat or a gull. And then I learned that if I made myself prettier—if I made myself beautiful—when I begged for money, it came far faster. I was wearing one of those beautiful faces the day magic fell. And I’ve been stuck in it ever since.” (qos) 

Lysandra’s loss of her true form is an echo of the Hind’s tale of a witch who loses sight of her true self and her true form. Shifting relies on an image in the mind, a memory. And if it is lost–or taken–so is one’s true form.

That was the danger of shifting—that you would forget your real form, because it’s the memory of it that guides the shifting.” (qos)

We have already seen Elain alter her appearance strategically at least once (and likely more than once, as many have theorized) to help others. As someone who is deeply connected to the land, and consistently compared to animals, it would make sense for her to weave a fanged beast form. And this beast form might still love the sun and plants, just like everyone’s favorite flower-smelling wyvern.

Next: Herbs she planted, or how herbs link Elain to witches.

Series: seer. wise woman. witch.

#witch elain #witchy elain #witchy archeron sisters #seed of power #shape-shifting witch #Valg spiders #weaving a new form #acotar witches #tog witches #crescent city witches #maasverse witches #elain archeron

[ae-neon]

Reading Throne of Glass (1-3)

TW: mentions of slavery and suicide

Disclaimer;

I'm gonna be nitpicky but it won't reflect my overall enjoyment. Besides the racist Nehemia plotline (which I don't like at all) I don't mind the general vibe or story of ToG. Also because it's so popular I have been spoiled for the overall big points of the story like endgame ships and character death but I don't know anything about the world, the magic, the character personalities, histories etc

Chapter 1

I instantly prefer the 3rd person POV.

SJM loves using slavery - and like, the worst type of slavery - as trauma porn.

Notorious Assassin - are you not then just bad at your job? Why does everyone know it was you?

SJM knows how to write her protagonists being observant, it's maybe her best trait.

WAIT. WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING??

If they're escorting her and trying to confuse her or even just to treat her like a prisoner - why isn't she blindfolded?? Why not put a bag over her head?? Like SHE CAN SEE WHERE SHE'S GOING?????

Okay I know Chaol is gonna be important and a love interest at some point so he has to have a serious position despite probably being 17/18 - but CAPTAIN of the royal guard?? The whole royal guard?? Be fr. Just have him be the Prince's right hand or personal knight or something.

The Captain of the Royal Guard would be an interesting opponent. Maybe even worthy of some effort on her part.

She was scared of him 5 sentences ago:

...Chaol Westfall, Captain of the Royal Guard, and suddenly, the sky loomed, the mountains pushed from behind, and even the earth swelled toward her knees. She hadn’t tasted fear in a while—hadn’t let herself taste fear.

"How lovely it was to hear a voice like her own—cool and articulate—even if he was a nasty brute!" Sorry the slaves weren't well spoken and there aren't any political prisoners to keep intellectual company with

The only thing all the intended disorientation had accomplished was to familiarize her with the building. Idiots.

Yea, I agree, they are idiots - they should have blindfolded you

Why is this big manor?hall?thing? by the slave mines? Like so close it's literally next door to where they sleep

The world building is pretty good so far

"...the opulence felt like a slap to the face." sjm don't lie

Chapter 2

close-cropped chestnut hair >>>> team Chaol already

I might consider Celaena an icon for not bowing to the Prince, if I didn't know she ends the series as queen. What a waste.

I'll probably like Dorian but his words mean nothing. If he had a problem with people being forced to bow, he would have said something earlier.

Duke Perrington came from Rifthold to see the treasurer?? The treasurer doesn't live at court? Or at least in the capital?

(Gold crown+)...black doublet, an emblazoned gold rendering of the royal wyvern occupied the entirety of the chest. His red cloak fell gracefully around him and his throne.

Dorian's first outfit eating up all of Rhysand's 3 black on black outfits.

Black hair blue eyes, he was definitely the first endgame love interest. A YA classic.

Princes are not supposed to be handsome! They’re sniveling, stupid, repulsive creatures! This one . . . this . . . How unfair of him to be royal and beautiful.

This. And some other sentences (that also end with exclamations) come off as weirdly childish in their tone and don't fit with the rest of the writing. Eg

What a miserable state for a girl of former beauty!

Like stop. The vibe is she thinks she's gonna die and she's being humiliated by her enslavers. This is off

I won't rag on SJM's writing too much because she was young and it's her first novel but this:

At a passing glance, one might think her eyes blue or gray, perhaps even green, depending on the color of her clothing. Up close, though, these warring hues were offset by the brilliant ring of gold around her pupils. But it was her golden hair that caught the attention of most, hair that still maintained a glimmer of its glory. In short, Celaena Sardothien was blessed with a handful of attractive features that compensated for the majority of average ones; and, by early adolescence, she’d discovered that with the help of cosmetics, these average features could easily match the extraordinary assets.

"But now, standing before Dorian Havilliard as little more than a gutter rat!" Girl, stfu

Acotar ellipses >>> ToG exclamations

I like Dorian and I like the story of Celaena's escape attempt. BUT. It would have been better if Dorian and Chaol had heard the story and used it as their reason to recruit her - a hectic story that proved Celaena was not only all that her reputation said but also that the mines hadn't broke her.

Then later, when they have more of a connection, have Celaena reveal it was essentially a suicide attempt.

Secret business? The Crown Prince, the Captain of the Guard, a Duke and like a dozen + royal guards isn't exactly low profile. In fact, it's the highest fucking profile, Sarah

Chapter 3

Dorian 🤝 Cassian; ogling starved women's bodies.

"My father has gotten it into his head that he needs a Champion." Even Celaena knows the Champion is supposed to be a knight or a lord or a holy warrior or something, not an assassin and definitely not an enemy of the crown. If you need an assassin just hire her as one

No one gets hired in an sjm book without being offered a "considerable salary" I think she doesn't understand much about money irl

She barely heard his last few words. A competition! Against some nobody men from the-gods-knew-where! And assassins! “What other assassins?” she demanded.

“None that I’ve heard of. None as famous as you...

The exclamations... Also those assassins are better by simple virtue of not being famous

They're acting like she's weakened but honestly shouldn't she be absolutely shredded? Shouldn't her arm strength be crazy from a year in a mine?

...but could only recall a solitary line from the mournful bellowing of the Eyllwe work songs, deep and slow like honey poured from a jar: “And go home at last . . .”

SJM is actually so vile because I know this isn't gonna really matter in a way that centres these enslaved people.

-

Overall not bad. I like these 3 characters and I much prefer 3rd person POV.

Celaena is a little erratic in her moods and thoughts but whatever.

Some nice hints of worldbuilding but also standard "sjm doesn't really understand the concept she's included"

#ae read #throne of glass #sjm critical #anti sjm #but not really #anti tog #just in case #ae read throne of glass

[sleep-escapes-me]

word prompt: gentle; observation

Fearne x Imogen

Left to her own devices, Fearne catches sight of a member of the Ruby Vanguard.

word count - 2,278

Fearne couldn’t imagine why Orym and Dorian were stressing so much for her to keep an eye on her surroundings and stay out of trouble while they were gone. Fearne has two eyes that she’s always using and staying out of trouble was easier than tending to Nana Morri’s garden in the middle of a surge of wild magic—talk about trouble. Fearne still has a few scars from the more aggressive plants kept there when she was younger. It’s like her friends thought she’d never been undercover before. 

She hasn’t but they didn’t need to assume so fiercely. Like, right now, she’s already found a potential suspect. 

Fearne wasn’t completely onboard about this Vanguard business but Orym was sure there was some type of connection to the mysterious group and the mission they were on so she’s kept a sharp lookout. The only thing they had a lead on was red cloaks and purple hair; and low and behold, across the sparsely crowded room of the tavern, is her mark. Purple hair. Purple eyes. Long trench coat with a vibrant red cloak shawl around her shoulders.

Remembering she was told to stay out of trouble, there was no way Fearne could pass up a fortunate opportunity as this to get some information. Because how else were they going to find out anything if she kept her distance? If she thinks about it, this is Orym and Dorian’s fault for leaving her alone. 

A loud shattering of glass from the bar reveals a drunk half-elf stumbling his way over to the purple-haired woman, plopping down in the seat in front of her. Fearne watches her say something they obviously didn’t like and he’s suddenly scrambling to stand and tower over the table. The woman doesn’t move, doesn’t react; her steely gaze is the only sign of her acknowledgment of him. Then the half-elf starts shouting, responding to something that wasn’t said aloud. 

Before she realizes it Fearn is striding over toward the table. “You’re in my seat,” she says to the half-elf. 

The red-faced drunk rolls his head in her direction. “Who the fuck are you?” he slurs.

“The one whose seat that belongs to.”

The half-elf stands upright, catching his arm on the table as he pitches sideways, almost losing balance. Immediately the man shrinks when Fearne stands at her full height and his face barely comes to her chest. He stumbles away embarrassed until he’s out of the tavern.

“That’s a nice trick,” Imogen says, not being subtle in the way she eyes Fearne from head to toe. “Quicker than what I had in mind.”

There’s a wonderfully delightful twang to the woman’s voice that stretches her vowels and Fearne can’t help but imagine coming home to hearing that after a long day and instantly feeling relaxed. 

“May I?” She gestures to the empty chair.

The woman shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s your seat.”

Fearne floofs her dress in a wide billow and carefully adjusts the chair. She can’t help the smile that pulls at the corner of her mouth as this woman’s intense gaze scans her, thoroughly enjoying the scrutiny. Something in her chest thrums at the unspoken challenge. 

“I’ve been watching you,” she confesses sheepishly.

Imogen’s eyes narrow and Fearne feels a strange intrusion in her mind. Gentle and compelling at the same time. 

‘That's a dangerous thing to admit, don’tcha think?’

“Oh!” Her back straightens when the woman’s voice enters her mind. “That kind of tingles,” she giggles. ‘How’d you do that? Am I doing it? Can you hear me?’ There’s no response, just a blank stare and a small smirk at the corner of her lips. “Gonna keep that information to yourself, huh? Well, that’s fine, we can have our secrets. But to answer your question, I think it’s only dangerous if you don’t admit it. Otherwise, how would you know my intentions?”

“And what are your intentions?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“So why come up to me?”

“Seemed like fun.” Fearne shrugs. “That red cloak you’re wearing is quite the statement piece. So bright. Kind of…draws your eye.”

Imogen leans forward and Fearne gets a whiff of lavender and something akin to that moment before a rain shower back in the Feywild; when the sky hadn’t darkened yet but all the hair on her body stands up in anticipation of the coming storm. Her aura was magnetic. 

“Is it too much?” 

“Not to me. I say you look great.” Fearne waves her hand. “I just think it puts a target on your back.”

“You aimin’?”

Fearne hums affably, all too taken with this mysterious woman. “You’re something.” She bites her bottom lip trying not to smile too widely.  

A sudden shout from across the tavern erupts into a heated argument. Both women turn to the interruption. Fearne catches her new friend wince slightly as the volume in the tavern increases before stamping the reaction down with a tight clench of her jaw. 

“Where’d you get it?” She asks to bring the attention back.

Imogen sits back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest. “It was a gift.”

“From your special person? Significant other.”

“From my mom.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. Do you and your mom like to wear matching outfits? I hear that’s a thing people do.”

Imogen chuckles. “Couldn’t it be that I’m wearin’ it for attention?”

“Well, you’ve certainly got mine.”

The smile Fearne witnesses makes her pause, not expecting the radiant shine on her features. Crinkled sparkling eyes and glistening lips pulled upward in amusement. 

“And exactly what is your attention worth?” Imogen asks in a low voice.

“Worth?” Her voice cracks on the word. Fearne clears her throat and fixes her hair. “My attention is worth a lot of things. I guess it depends on what you’re looking for. Friendship. Information. Really I’m an open book.”

“Wide variety then?” The woman chuckles. 

“Sorry, I’m loving this. You’re great. I just don’t know how long I can keep this up.” She lets out a breath. “A little observation—just something I’ve been hearing around—you’re Ruby Vanguard aren’t you?” Fearne watches for any change in her demeanor but the woman doesn’t react. “Oh, you’re good. Do they teach you to do that?”

“Can’t say I know what you mean.” Again another loud outburst from the other side of the tavern has her wince impreceptivley. Imogen stands abruptly. “Well this has been enlightenin’ but it’s getting a bit late don’t you think?”

Fearne frowns. “Do you have somewhere to be? Someone waiting for you? A secret meetup situation?”

“No,” she says sardonically.

“Great!” Fearne also stands, all smiles. “Then—because it’s so late, I can walk you wherever you need to go. Or, if you’re worried about it getting dark outside, you can come back to my room? It’s just over there. We can keep talking…or we don’t even really have to talk. Your mind thing kind of cuts through that.” Fearne smiles disarmingly. “Whatever you’re up for. I don’t bite…unless that’s something you’re into.”

Imogen looks around the bar as if trying to find her answer amongst the sparse drunken crowd. “I don’t get into bed with complete strangers.”

“Who said anything about beds? And we’re hardly strangers,” she bargains. “We’ve been talking for a little while. I know so much about you already.”

“Like what?”

“You have mind powers and your whole ensemble is—the purple and the red looks great on you. Intimidating—it’s kind of hot actually. Really works well on you.”

“That’s basis enough for acquaintance?”

“It’s basis enough for a lot of things. And looking at your face, gorgeous by the way, you probably feel the same.” She holds out her hand. “My name is Fearne.”

Imogen stares at the offered gesture. Her eyes flit back up to Fearne’s and then reluctantly shakes her hand. Fearne peeps at the strange jagged markings emerging from her wrist where her gloved hands don’t cover. 

“I see you as someone who likes privacy,” Fearne continues. “And I’m all about that. It’s one of my favorite things to invade.”

“You admit you like invadin’ people’s privacy?”

“Why not?”

“No, it’s fine. Surprisin’, I guess but I appreciate the honesty. There’s not a lot of that goin’ around lately.” A brief moment passes. “Nothin’ else?”

Fearne boldly reaches out and gently touches a strand of purple hair. “You smell like home,” she adds softly, “when I’m in my nana’s garden…late at night. Alone.”

Imogen swallows hard and takes a step back from Fearne. “Not good enough. This town is small. Eyes everywhere. Watchin’ our every move. I go in a room with you then I’ll be the talk of the town for weeks.”

“You live here?”

“No, but I know how small towns operate and I at least try to keep a low profile wherever I am.”

“Comes in handy I’m sure. With your—,” she points to her cloak. “Right?”

Imogen doesn’t answer. 

“Just really not gonna answer huh?” Fearne pouts. “It’s fine. It’s fine. But really I’d think we’d all have an easier time if you did.”

“Easier how?”

“You admit you’re Ruby Vanguard. I don’t have to keep second guessing.” She watches the slightest twitch of her eyebrow when mentioning the vanguard’s name aloud again. “I mean, what if you’re undercover? Then here I am trying to blow your whole operation in this small town…with eyes everywhere. Can’t be a good thing for you. Especially since I fit right in.”

“How so?”

“I’m happy just watching.”

Imogen stares at her for a solid moment. Her bright purple eyes darken a fraction. ‘You wanna test that?’

Fearne smiles wickedly. “I’m down for anything.”

“Let’s not waste time then.” Imogen downs the remainder of her abandoned drink and ends up choking on it a little.

“Oh goodness. Are you all right?” Fearne pats her back soothingly as she coughs.

“Fine,” she says, strained. Imogen swats her hand away. There’s an embarrassing red tint to her cheeks. “I’m fine.” 

“My room is just in the back here.” Her offer is ignored as Imogen starts walking out of the tavern. “Am I supposed to follow you?”

Fearne rushes after her and the two of them are exposed to the darkening streets of the town. She’s led expertly around corners and side streets. Not once slowing down.

“You sure you don’t live here?” Fearne asks after a few minutes of walking.

“Do you always ask so many questions?”

She can’t help but shrug. “I’m curious by nature.”

They walk in a bit of silence before Imogen curiously glances in Fearne’s direction. “Are all fey like you?”

The genuine tone of the curiosity lightens Fearne’s heart. “Goodness no. That’d just be so boring. No, there's all kinds! My nana, she's great, you’d definitely love her. Now that woman does all sorts of cool stuff. Her garden is so incredible and she collects all sorts of things. And then there’s—actually I don’t really know any other fey. It was just me and my nana for the most part.”

“Your nana raised you?”

“Most of my life,” Fearne answers honestly. “I don’t remember my parents that much. They’re—.” She stops that train of thought. “You mentioned something about your mom. Is it just the two of you?”

“Yeah…” Imogen gets a faraway look in her eye before a stoic mask forms on her face. She says nothing else.

Fearne tries to pivot, sensing dangerous territory. “I can take you some time if you want. To the Fey Realm.” Imogen ignores her. All curiosity from before melts away from her demeanor as they step up to a small building. “Yeah, I know you want to,” Fearne mumbles.

Imogen opens the door after unlocking it with a wave of her hand. “We’re here.”

“Fancy.” Fearne steps in first and takes in the sparsely decorated space. No personal items except a small bag in the corner. “Is this your room?” It’s all she gets out before an invisible force pushes her onto the bed. 

//

When she meets Orym and Dorian later, Fearne holds up the red cloak like a prize.

“Same symbol,” Orym discerns curiously.

Dorian gawks at the article of clothing. “Fearne? Where—I’m sorry, where the fuck did you get that?”

“I met a woman with purple hair,” Fearne says simply.

The two of them share a wary look. “So did we,” Orym says slowly.

She tosses her hair over her shoulder in a nonchalant manner. “Well, it can’t be the same one. I left mine—,” She releases a breathy laugh. “Let’s just say I don’t think she’ll be up and moving for a while.”

“Fearne,” Orym rubs the bridge of his nose. “I thought we agreed no killing.”

“I remembered!” The indignant tone raises in pitch. “I didn’t kill anyone.” 

“Okay, that’s good!” Dorian claps his hands. “She said she didn’t kill anyone. There was no killing. So we’re good. We’re good, right?”

Fearne pauses. “I mean it seemed like she couldn’t catch her breath there at the end but that wasn’t my fault.”

Orym sighs, resigned to the whimsy disposition of his fey friend. “You sure she won’t come after you?”

Fearne shakes her head. “I didn’t come at all.”

“What?”

Dorian chuckles. It’s a choked uncomfortable sound as he starts coughing. “I think—wow that really got me. I think I see what’s going on here and I have to say I didn’t expect it.” He sighs. “Fearne…I don’t know if proud is the word I’m looking for but I’m a little ashamed I didn’t think this would occur.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Orym asks again.

“Nothing.” Fearne smiles triumphantly. “I’m fine. It’s fine. We should go.”

#imogearne #Imogen x Fearne #Imogen Temult #Fearne Calloway #prompt fic #my writing #did I already write the in between part to this? yes #will I sit down long enough to edit it? only the timekeeper knows

[vallerianella]

Hi! i hope you don't mind me asking but do you have a list of all of your twst ocs?

hi! no worries at all, I love answering questions 🥸

as of right now, no one actually really has an official profile on this site bc well... I hyperfixate😅. I can however list off ocs and their origins. for any further information, it'd probably be more effective to send an individual ask about them 😔. I'll place that list under a read more!

heartslabyul;

betty dormire, the dormouse blake déchirer, the mirror shard (tangled)

savanaclaw;

satine aquila, just a mere eagle, probably...

octavinelle;

claudio asteriidae, the little mermaid's knife diana nereide, the needle stabbing sensation the little mermaid experiences (I still have no idea how to paraphrase this 😔) loire operetta, sebastian

pomefiore;

adelaide beaumont, belle (beauty and the beast) mirabilis (yvette) rhodantha, snow white gwendolyn viel, the evil queen's disguise/cloak

ignihyde;

elaine perleau, the pottery warehouse roxie, the trojan horse

diasomnia;

cherise lancaster, carmilla dorian schiele, the picture of dorian gray suji, the witch (hansel and gretel)

vallerianella (tangled fandorm);

gallerian morta, mother gothel sasha amönau, the tower tiara tourmaline, rapunzel's crown

other;

an yao wen, the matchmakers (mulan) amora harmillan, victor's ring (corpse bride) ray exspiravit, zero (the nightmare before christmas) svetlana dovett, the blue fairy (pinocchio) yuyuka hoshikawa, the red shoes (the ballet)

#ask #I do have a master post doc but that’s. very much an eternal wip hahaha #thank you for the ask!

[poisonouswritings]

LegacyTober Day 17: Future

So this is after defeating LoS. First paragraph is if you stayed in Astraea, second is if you and your partner went back to Earth. I'm gonna,, have to make some stuff up,,, for Anisa,,,, because obviously we never got to see what her timeskip was like and the effect it had on her and whatever. So. Damn you Fictif/Dorian.

In Astraea, Felix is trying to help put Blackthorn together. The crypt was totally decimated after that whole 'cultist soul possession' thing that happened. For a long while after the attack, everyone has avoided going near it. Initially it was to be sure that the last traces of LoS' magic had faded and wouldn't affect anyone else, but honestly? Everyone is still on edge about it. That includes Felix, but his anxiety leads to a need to understand. So he goes poking around in there and obviously brings you with (assuming you're comfortable with it - if you aren't then he'll go by himself). I would not put it past him to arrange for a picnic in the grass under the full moon. He'll tell you stories about the people that were in there (did the bodies ever get put back? I'm inclined to say they were probably destroyed, so all that's left is the plaques and coffins).

On Earth, Felix is still researching the paranormal! He loves going to 'haunted spots' to find ghosts. You tried to take him on a tour once and the guide started doing a whole 'hundreds of years ago in the Puritan times there was a woman accused of witchcraft who was hung here' blah blah blah, and then Felix goes 'The woman had an allergic reaction and died like eight years ago' and ends up taking over the tour,,, doing small bits of magic that could pass as impressive street magic,,, you guys end up getting kicked out. Sorry. He has fun though.

In Astraea, Anisa has taken it upon herself to completely reform the Sunstone knights (possibly changing their names? Idk) and make sure there's no corruption. In addition to the normal duties they perform, something she wanted to focus on was community outreach and getting in touch with the citizens. While she has overcome her insecurities about being LoS' daughter, she's still just a helpful person in general, so she's still going out of her way to help out. So when there's a Fall Harvest festival, Anisa helps organize and run some of the activities as well as just keeping the peace. She's also learned how to be kinder to herself, so she takes breaks as needed (or if you give her puppy dog eyes).

On Earth, Anisa is super excited! She discovers Starbucks and pumpkin spice latte. You can bring her fashion magazines and she'll put together her own outfits. Possibly makes some of her own? I think it's mentioned in the intro that she knows how to sew. Imagine,, going on a lake,,, like with those paddle boats? And the lake has red and gold leaves that have fallen onto the surface and it's super pretty and Anisa is so in love with you and with Earth. She's learning how to take a step back and breathe, y'know?

In Astraea, Sage has mixed feelings about fall. Even though Porrima has been rebuilt and pretty much every building is warded against Corrupted, he's still on edge. Especially when the night comes earlier and the shadows stretch longer. Plus you gotta add on seasonal depression. But the cooler nights means more cuddling by the fire (he always puts his head in your lap so you can brush his hair or stroke his ears) and wearing fluffy cloaks. Tulsi works shorter hours too, so they can hang out a little more. And he still enjoys warm apple cider, so there's a bonus! Ultimately, he'll be a little more comfortable during summer but he'll make it through fall. You can tell him silly over-the-top scare stories and it'll make him laugh.

On Earth, Sage has an easier time since. Y'know. No Corrupted. But then you introduce him to zombie movies and now he's afraid again. On the bright side. Sage in all black? Maybe even gothic clothes? He'd probably only wear it as you guys get closer to Halloween but I just want you all to be picturing that. Anyways for some reason I keep picturing him trying a cinnamon-flavored cake pop so there's that. Since it's colder out, he can hold your hand and walk around with you so that's a big bonus for him. Um. Um. Um. Also. Oktoberfest. I don't know if post-timeskip Sage would enjoy it as much (he'll come around eventually but he's anxious at first because if you've never been, Oktoberfest tends to get loud and crowded) but he'll get in the swing of things eventually.

#LegacyTober #last legacy #fictif last legacy #felix escellun x reader #anisa anka x reader #sage lesath x reader #felix escellun #anisa anka #sage lesath #ozzy daydreams

[lieblxng]

@strebcr | Closed Starter

[ Dark clouds gather in the endless midnight sky, obscuring the guiding stars and leaving the rest of the sky murky and tenebrous. It even started obscuring the moon, which was in its new form at the end of its typical cycle so it wasn’t visible much anyway. The night would be quiet if not for the bustling city underneath its wake–loud music bursts from the cracks of a building in the heart of the city, meant to distract those who enter from how awful life could be. A tall man with black and red hair and a sharp punk attire that color matches his hair leaves said building from a side exit that goes behind it. It was Ethan Dorian, a college student steadily focused on the future ahead of him while also enjoying the frivolities of existence, lest he lose his faith in life like all eventually do. Coming out here for a small fifteen-minute break, he takes out a cigarette from the pack he had and sets it ablaze with the lighter in one of his pockets. ]

[ The vitality of the party was a rejuvenating one to him, but there were a few moments where he needed to regain his energy to continue. The perks and shortcomings of being an ambivert, for sure. It wasn’t even a full five minutes before the heavens began to weep; droplets of water sprinkling onto anything below, including him. Groaning that he couldn’t enjoy his cigarette fully, he smashes the lit part on the wall he was leaning on and inserts it back into his pack so he might be able to save it for later. This was a good time to leave since he had classes in the morning anyhow. He ponders for a second about which route he should take, but he decides to take the alleyways right now because it is the quicker route home with the current weather going on. It’s been done a couple of times before, so he knew his way home without much issue. ]

[ However, little did he know that he wasn’t the only person in the alleyways. ]

[ Some time deep in the heart of the city, only a few street lights illuminating the path just barely enough not to trip in front of oneself, Ethan walks on ahead. He even checks his phone real quick and uses it to start texting someone while he shields it from the rain. Maybe his friend was asleep with it being past midnight, but he wanted to go off about the amazing time he had at the concert. They even had a mosh pit, he adored mosh pits with how wild and fun they were. ]

[ While he’s occupied with this, shadows move from behind, stirring and bending unnaturally. A person cloaked in darkness sinks and moves with calculated stealth, stalking the man in front of them; any movement silenced by the pouring precipitation. The young man slowed down unknowingly, trying to make sure he was texting legibly and distracted with what he was typing. That’s when he felt something amiss, like his sixth sense was trying to inform him about trouble, so he turned his head around to see…a stranger, taller than him–dressed in the finest of silk, a short but sweet red dress and heels, reaching out a clawed hand towards him.

“Run.” is all they said, their set of abnormally sharp teeth showing on full display and their intimidating red eyes digging daggers into his skin. And for some reason, every letter was pronounced in such a way that invoked the biggest of fears in him.

So he ran, as fast as he could muster, phone in hand, text unfinished. Usually, Ethan wasn’t the one to get scared, but something about the way they looked into his core made him absolutely terrified. It was almost unnatural, perhaps inhumane, on how seemingly easy it was performed, but he had no time to question any of this extensively–he just needed to run. Water from the puddles underneath his boots splashed up like waves of the ocean when he sped by, but he wasn’t phased at all. He couldn’t go home because that could lead him into more danger later on, he had to lose them from his tracks. ‘Faster Ethan, faster!’ was the only clear enough thought he had racing in his head. ]

[ The figure behind him only smirked at his reaction, finding it utterly adorable how their victim thought he had a chance. They gave chase, quickly catching up to Ethan without any problems, despite what they were wearing. They also took this moment to enjoy the hunt more, not yet striking, but savoring their prey’s reactions. ]

[ A fence was spotted up ahead. Maybe he could lose them by climbing it! He didn’t hesitate to latch onto it and start scaling it as quickly as he could. His accessories almost got caught between the wiring, but due to his panic when he got on top of the fence, he lost balance and dropped his phone–shattering on the ground when it fell, only to get further crushed when Ethan fell on top of it. He growled, hurting his arm in the process and getting somewhat soaked, but he couldn’t give up now. He scrambled up from the ground, too much in a rush to pick his broken phone back up as he dashed off. ]

[ The person enjoying the chase soon came to the fence, but instead of climbing it as well, they grabbed onto the wiring and ripped it apart–tearing a giant hole in it for them to go through. Then they resumed running after him, as if nothing bothered them. Without any sign of struggling, nothing, just pure superhuman strength. ]

[ Ethan saw this and almost screamed, the fear flowing through his veins making him run even faster. He didn’t know what his religious belief was, regardless of being raised in a mostly Wiccan household, but he was trying to cry out to whatever may be up there and internally beseech for help. He was getting desperate, his joints and muscles shrieking to stop, but he couldn’t. If he did, who knows what would…! His legs would come to a screeching halt, a barrage of emotions to experience when he saw the dead end he was at. No, there had to be another way! He attempted hastily looking around him, but he couldn’t…he couldn’t find anywhere else to go. He was…he was doomed. He turned around to face his killer, hugging the wall behind him in some hopeless attempt at comfort. Seeing those eyes penetrate his being once more made him tremble like it was below zero outside, which was yet again out of character for him. ]

“Please! Don’t!” [ he whined out, trying to beg for his life. ] “Why are you doing this?! Wh-what did I do–?!” [ He didn’t understand any of this! ] “Haha,” [ the hunter finally spoke out once more, walking slowly up to its prey. ] “I’m doing this for your own good. You’ll see…” [ When they were close enough, they grabbed onto both of Ethan’s wrists with one hand, pinning him down and using the other hand to hold his head down. He freaked out and squirmed, but no matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t get out. His pleas of mercy fell on deaf ears, as they proceeded to…–! ]

[ A piercing cry of agony was heard, breaking through the vibrant sounds of the urban area, poison and pain filling his body in tandem. Whether from the blood gushing out of his neck, the trauma, or the entirety of it all, his vision went black as he collapsed onto the cruel, uncaring pavement; the aggressive downpour of rain drenching his now lifeless body in some twisted sense of pity. ]

[ Weeks had passed since Ethan Dorian’s disappearance, and the last text he texted anyone was to some friends like Streber and Leon, saying: ‘goin to a cool concert tonite will tell u the deets later’ sometime around eleven in the evening. He didn’t show up for his college classes in the morning. No one knew where he went, many calls and texts to his phone would go straight to voicemail. There weren’t any reports of anything concerning going around the venue either, and those who did see Ethan at the concert saw him depart midway through it. Typically he went to these types of events with friends, but he went alone this time. People were getting worried, especially his loved ones–his mother openly cried whenever it was brought up with her husband comforting her every time. Sure sometimes he would disappear for hours, but nothing like this, and he would always come back. There were a couple of attempts at an informal search party, but there weren’t any notable updates in the missing persons case. ‘Where was he?’, most thought. ]

[ Very much aware of what was going on with him but wanting to protect those he loved, Ethan was avoidant of them on purpose. He wasn’t human anymore, he couldn’t go near them. In his mind, it was best if he was believed to be missing or dead. His career, ruined. His relationships, ruined. His everything, ruined. Maybe to grieve and process what he lost, he sat against the brick wall, the very same alley where his life was taken. He buried his face into his knees, it all sinking in that this wasn’t some long nightmare. That this was this reality. He wanted to sob so badly. What did he do to deserve this horrible fate…? ]

#Assault TW #Gore TW #Blood TW #Smoking TW #Dark Content #//this is really fucked up holy shit #//its three pages LONG 😭 and the last two paragraphs are rusty and rushed but shshshsh its ok #Ethan (self) | I'm really just a video game artist. #Streber | Passionate for the spooky season. #Forever morphed by the dark... | Vampire AU (Ethan) #Chilling ain't a contest. | Closed RP #strebcr

[justastrugglinghotchocolate]

💞 DASIL POST NIGHTMARE CUDDLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-exploding anon 💥

AHHHH MY INBOX 😨 ITS ON FIREEEEEE

Modern AU!

Dorian awoke in the middle of the night, shivering in the cold room. He turned to cuddle with Basil, only to not find the artist by his side. The young man sat up and croaked, “Basil?”

No answer. He coughed and tried again, “Basil?”

Dorian arose from the soft bed, taking the blanket with him to use as a cloak. He thought it was far too cold in their home tonight and checked on Hamlet and Horatio fast asleep, having shared a bed pillow. Dorian chuckled, leaning down to gently pet them. Basil had bought them separate pillows, but neither wanted to fall asleep without the other.

A light from under the door to the bathroom caught his eye. He walked up to the door and placed his ear on the door, hearing a stifled sob. He knocked gently on the door, “Basil?” He heard a gasp, followed by shuffling and the sound of someone blowing their nose. He turned the knob gently, “I’m going to come in, alright?”

He opened the door. Basil was sitting on the edge of the tub, trying to look composed. His hair was a mess, his face and eyes were red, and he was completely disheveled. Dorian smiled gently at him, “Are you okay?”

Basil nodded, “Did I wake you?”

“Kind of. It was cold without you,” Dorian bundled the blanket in his hands so that it wouldn’t drag on the bathroom floor. “Nightmare again?”

“Yes,” Basil sighed as Dorian sat beside him. “The same as usual, but it was worse this time. I thought I was really dying.”

“Have you really had this same nightmare since you were a kid?”

 “For as long I can remember.”

“But it’s so specific!” Dorian said, “I mean, how many people dream about being stabbed to death in an attic? Is that from something?”

“If it is, I’ve long forgotten it,” Basil sighed and sniffed. “It hurts too. That shouldn’t be possible, but it does every time I have it.”

“Does it hurt now?”

Basil nodded and Dorian raised his hand, “May I massage your neck?”

“Please?”

The young man chuckled and wrapped a gentle hand on the back of Basil’s neck, applying pressure where the artist indicated the pain was. Basil sighed pleasantly and asked, “Have you ever had a recurring nightmare?”

“No,” Dorian shrugged, “I never really remember my dreams. I’m too busy living, I suppose.”

Basil laughed, “That you are.”

“Is it better now?”

“Yes, I don’t feel it anymore,” Basil hummed. “Maybe I should visit a sleep clinic. Or a psychologist.”

“Maybe,” Dorian joked, “You could always talk to Harry.”

“Absolutely not. I’d die before then,” Basil said quickly.

Dorian giggled, making Basil laugh too. After they calmed down, they headed back to their shared bed, falling asleep in each other's arms.

#the picture of dorian gray #basil hallward #dorian gray #dorian x basil #choco wrote a thing!!

[malulls]

I'll be there for you

Manorian one shot

Slightly nsfw

— I don't know the tailor who made your dress, but I'm going to steal her for myself.

Elide smiled at Lysandra. The Lady of Perranth looked beautiful in her wedding dress. The elegant and perfectly embroidered bodice was finished with a gorgeous silk sash trimmed with gold. The full skirt of the dress was made of a surprisingly light and beautifully ornate fabric. Manon never cared much for clothes, but it really was a beautiful work.

— I have never worn something so perfect. I'm just trying not to get nervous and throw up all over it.

The Witch Queen spoke for the first time since Elide tried on her wedding dress to show them, twenty minutes ago.

— You have faced Ilkens on your own. You will survive a wedding, despite your questionable choice of husband.

— I am forced to agree with you, witch — said Aelin with a too serious face.

The lady glanced appreciatively at Manon, before casting a disapproving glance at the two of them.

— Do you hate him that much?

— No Elide, but I won't miss the opportunity to pick on dear Lord Lorcan Lochan.

The women gathered in the small room laughed at hearing the name, even Manon gave a small smile. They were trying on their dresses with Elide, except for the witch, who continued with her leathers after the lady assured her that she wouldn't mind if she didn't wear one of those outfits.

— If you excuse me, I think I'd better go now. It's late and Josie must be hungry. — Yrene said as she removed the yellow dress that had been prepared for her and returned to the clothes she wore before. — Good night, ladies.

After the future bride put away her dress, Aelin and Lysandra said goodbye and left the room. Manon was about to follow them when Elide called her.

— Manon? I wanted to ask you something.

She sat down again.

— What is it?

— I was wondering if you'd like — She opened and closed her hands nervously — if you'd like me to set aside a seat only for you. To hold their places. I wish they could be here.

Manon felt as if a rock had hit her, right in the chest. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat so that she could speak.

— Yes. Thank you.

Elide squeezed her hand and smiled sadly at the witch. The only thing Manon managed to do was a nod of goodbye as she went back to her own room. Browen and Petrah were taking care of her kingdom so that she could go to Lorcan and Elide's wedding.

So Manon was alone. As she had always been since the end of the war. She hated that word. Alone. That's what she was.

Those thoughts haunted her mind as she walked the stone halls of the Perranth Castle. And long after that in the warm night that followed.

—

The ceremony was touching. Elide looked stunning, in addition to her dress, her ebony hair was neatly done in a bun that highlighted the beauty of her face. She radiated happiness as she walked up to Lorcan, who looked elegant in a black tunic, obviously, and flashed a smile that for five hundred years no one had ever seen.

Manon was wearing her sumptuous red cloak over the witches' leather clothes, her hair falling in waves down her back, her crown shining and illuminating the queen's beautiful face.

She didn't notice the few guests who looked at her strangely and wondered why she was alone. Some of them guessing that it was because everyone was afraid to get close to her. None of them would have dared to think that if they could read the mind of a young king who had been watching her for a great part of the night.

Dorian was in the bank opposite hers in the ancient temple of Perranth, now restored with the return of the rightful lady of the territory and properly decorated for her own wedding. Manon looked painfully beautiful, as always, and was watching Elide and Lorcan take their vows with a seemingly calm expression. But Dorian knew how hard it was for her to be alone in that bank. He just knew.

As if sensing the gaze, for the first time, Manon turned toward him. The two just stared at each other, for a long moment. The queen had no idea what Dorian wanted or why he was looking at her that way, but she didn't look away from his sapphire eyes. A slightly cold sensation coursed through her wrist. An invisible hand.

When she opened her hand and exposed her palm, he entwined the fingers of the ghost hand in hers. She held him back. The two looked away and did not face each other again until the wedding was over. It was not necessary. And he didn't let go of her hand for a single second.

—

The party that followed was just as impressive as the wedding. The stone walls of the castle hall were decorated with ribbons and the flowers that covered the green fields of Terrasen that spring. The music of various instruments echoed off the walls as the lady and lord of Perranth swirled around the hall.

A few tables covered with white linen and decorated with flower arrangements stood in the corners of the room, accommodating the few who were not dancing. Manon was one of these people. She had been watching the party in front of her for almost two hours, quiet and seeing people dance, sing, and smile. She wished she wasn't like that at the wedding party of someone she considered a friend, but she couldn't help the uncomfortable feeling that had arisen in her chest and didn't want to go away. It would probably disappear and tears would take its place.

Manon rarely cried, but the few times it happened it was desperate and she couldn't stop for a long time. She was grateful to Elide for giving up a place for the Thirteen even though they were not there. And the reminder that they weren't, though it was constant, that night felt like an iron fist around her heart.

— May I sit down?

She blinked, surprised to find Yrene Towers hovering beside the table. How could she push away a lady with a baby on her lap?

— Why?

She was at the table with Dorian and Chaol, who were currently discussing who would dance with Aelin. Why did you suddenly want to sit next to me?

— You are alone here. I came to give you some company. If you don't want to, that's fine. But if you don't mind, I'll just stay here. We don't need to talk.

Manon's first instinct was to reject it. But she had just been mentally complaining about not having anyone. And honestly, a small part of her was grateful to the healer. So she allowed Yrene to sit down.

—

Dorian smiled at Aelin as he spun her around the room.

— Are you reading any interesting books?

— A lot. I brought some with me, I can lend them to you if you want. How's Fleetfoot?

— Always making a mess at the palace. I would have brought her, but we were hurrying and I didn't want to force her to walk so far. Besides, Fenrys would beat me if I had to cross a dog.

The king smiled at her.

— You should have called me, then.

Before Aelin could ask, the two of them disappeared and reappeared in another corner of the room. The Queen of Terrasen gave him an incredulous look, trying to understand what had happened.

— You learned it!

— Among other things. Now I know how to make flowers grow too.

— I will demand a beautiful bouquet every day. — He gave her a mocking smile. — Since you can do it now, are you going to make some interesting trips to the Wastes?

Dorian's smile narrowed. He knew there was more behind that question. They had not had time for a decent conversation, the king imagined Aelin was curious trying to understand what had happened between Manon and him.

— I'm not sure if anyone wants me there.

Aelin slowed down.

— Things... didn't end well between you?

— That's the issue, I don't know. They ended up complicated.

— Why?

The song ended, another one started, and the two didn't notice or stop for a moment.

— It was easier before, when we just slept together. Things were different by the end of the war, but after everything that happened, I'm not sure that she wants anything to do with me.

— But she cares about you, doesn't she?

— In her own way. She may have spat it in my face at a time when she clearly wanted to skin me alive, but yes.

— So go talk to her.

He wanted to, but after months it could not matter anymore what she had said to him, not when her eyes looked so empty and tired.

We'll see.

A tense silence followed between the two of them for almost an entire song.

— Are you all right, Dorian?

— Are you?

Aelin rolled her eyes, as if she were the only one who could take care of other people's lives.

— The hard days diminish with time.

— I still can't handle them properly.

Stopping completely in the middle of the dance, Aelin put her arms around him. He hugged his friend back.

— I wish we weren't so far away, you know. So I could keep an eye on you.

— You have a kingdom to look after, Aelin. You don't need to take care of one of your many tragic friends.

Neither of them said anything, and the silence was filled by the lively music and the chattering in the hall.

— I missed you.

He held her tighter.

— I missed you too.

Someone cleared their throat near them both. Before she could even lift her face completely off Dorian's shoulder, Aelin had already raised her middle finger.

— Go be territorial with the chickens, buzzard.

— I'm not being territorial. I just came to ask if I could borrow my wife after she dumped me for three dances in a row.

But who was couting. Dorian laughed.

— I'll borrow her.

— To Chaol, who I'm dancing with now. And you can calm down, bird.

She walked away to the lord of Anielle. Dorian laughed at Rowan's irritation, who merely gave the king an annoyed but amused look. The laughter slowly faded as he walked over to the table where Yrene was sitting with Manon.

The Lady of Anielle kept to what she had said and didn't say a word, except for the few times she spoke to the baby on her lap. The comfortable silence between them was interrupted by Dorian's arrival.

— Do you know where my husband is?

— Dancing with Aelin. I don't think they'll have much time before Rowan has a syncope.

— Let's go get your father then, Josie.

Yrene left the table with her daughter, leaving the King of Adarlan and the Queen of Witches alone. Gold met sapphires. The tension of the silence between them was almost palpable. So Dorian dared to break it.

— Hello, witchling.

— Hello, princeling.

The king didn't know what to say. He had no idea how things were between them, even though she had held his hand during the wedding.

— What do you want?

— To know how you are. I haven't seen you for months.

He knew very well the mask of indifference she was wearing. It was an expression he used more often than he would have liked.

— I'm fine.

Damaris went cold in his belt at the lie, but it was the only thing she offered, and if that was what she wanted to say, it was fine. Dorian hadn't expected her to simply tell him everything, anyway. That moment between the two of them before the king left for Morath was a rare display of vulnerability, and probably the only one he would have of her.

Someone called out to him from across the hall. Yrene, asking the king to dance with her. He was distracted by talking to her for a minute, and when he looked at the chair next to him, Manon was already gone.

—

The Queen did not notice how much time had passed since she had left the party. The perfumed night air enveloped her, from her balcony she could see the festivities in the town below the castle, where the peasants of Perranth were celebrating their lady's wedding. Elide had said something about spending some time at the parties in the town the next day with her people. Lanterns filled the grass-covered fields of Terrasen with points of golden lights. A few floors below her, Abraxos was sleeping happily with his head tucked into white lilies.

Manon was trying to push that feeling she hated so much out of her own mind. She was surprised at how much being on that empty bank actually weighed on her.

The witch's sharp hearing acknowledged footsteps, but she didn't bother to turn to speak to Dorian.

— Do you really want to stay alone?— He leaned on the balcony beside her.

— No.

— Then what are you doing here?

— There was too much noise there. Too many people, too much music.

It wasn't noticeable in the room, but the music was so loud that she and Dorian could clearly hear the melody despite being on a far balcony. The sound filled the stillness between them as they didn't say anything, for a long time.

— Do you want to dance?

The question surprised her as much as the sudden break in the silence. When Manon turned around, Dorian was already looking at her.

— Haven't you already danced too much today?

— A prince never dances too much.

Changing the subject clearly didn't help Manon escape the invitation, because Dorian held out his hand to her.

— I don't dance.

— In 117 years?

— I had more important things to do than worry about parties.

Manon didn't let herself think about what she had spent a century doing. She had enough fucked up thoughts for one night. She shifted her eyes to Dorian's extended hand.

— Please?

He came closer. There were only a few inches separating their faces, and the queen's breathing quickened when Dorian reached up to put a lock of hair behind her ear.

The king looked surprised when she took his hand.

— If you tell anyone I danced with you, you'll be food for the wyverns, princeling.

He opened a smile, completely ignoring the threat, and entwined his fingers in hers, wrapping the witch's waist with his other hand. He pulled Manon close, much closer than was necessary for a dance.

For the first time in the evening, she paid attention to the music, not as an irritating and frivolous sound in the background, but to the joyful melody and the instruments that were being played. She was distracted by the smell of Terrasen pines, by the cool night air, by Dorian moving the two of them across the stone floor of the balcony, pulling away to spin her around and then pulling her close again.

When that song ended the two danced the next one. And the next. Again and again and again. With the end of the sound of the instruments the king suddenly stopped. Only then did she notice how long the two of them had danced, that her breathing was slightly shallow and her feet a little sore.

These thoughts vanished from the queen's mind when Dorian lowered his mouth to hers. She released his hand to tangle her fingers in the black curls of the his hair.

— I wanted to do that the moment I saw you.

She didn't answer, and instead kissed Dorian again. The two only pulled apart when they were breathless, and still continued to hold their foreheads together, stealing small kisses until Manon pulled away. She knew how this would end if it continued, and although a part of her wanted to drag Dorian into the bedroom and disappear with his clothes, she still had a lump in her throat and knew she wasn't up for it.

— I'm tired.

— We don't have to do anything if you don't want to. But I like sleeping with you.

Manon let him hug her, and they plunged into the darkness, then emerged back into a hallway. If he hadn't been holding her, she probably would have fallen to the floor.

— What was that?

— That thing Fenrys does when he disappears from one place and appears in another.

— And you know how to do it.

He opened the bedroom door and Manon followed him inside.

— It's quite useful, actually. Maybe when I can cross longer distances I will take a trip to know the Wastes.

The witch almost smiled at the hidden suggestion. If he could, the two of them could see each other often. She would not complain about that. Dorian dropped his tunic on a chair and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes while she did the same. Manon hesitated, but eventually opened the drawer where he was keeping things and grabbed the first shirt she found before taking off her leather clothes. He was smiling when Manon went to the other side of the bed.

— What?

— You' pretty in my clothes.

When they both lay down she couldn't help but think of the last time they had been like this. What the two of them had said in the tent, how different things were now. And the question that had been pounding in her head for hours.

— Why did you hold my hand at the wedding?

— Because I wanted you to know that you are not alone.

— Wasn't the empty bank indicative enough of the opposite?

He turned so that he could look into her eyes.

— The empty bank was the reason I did it. I wanted to show you that you don't have to go through this alone. That if you ever need to, even if it's just to talk, you have someone.

— You are on the other side of Erilea.

— Just because I am far away doesn't mean that I don't think about you, that I don't worry, or that I don't miss you. You can come to me when things get hard in your kingdom. You will always have a place with me, if you want.

He looked surprised when she hugged him, but it didn't take him long to wrap his arms around her, as if he was afraid that she would suddenly change her mind and disappear.

— You will always have a place with me too.

Manon was trying to learn to trust the people around her. People who hadn't spent a century by her side. She didn't know how to speak comforting words, but she would be there whenever he felt lonely because she knew exactly what it was like.

Dorian turned around and put an arm around the queen's waist, then pulled her in, until her back was against his chest. She was still awake when she heard his breathing become steady and his arm relax around her. Manon was relieved she didn't have another damned crying crisis. That had been a long day and she was more than ready for it to end, knowing she would be better in the morning. At some point in the night, she lost herself in the warmth that the king's arms offered and fell asleep as well.

—

Her eyelids fluttered as her eyes tried to get used to the light coming from the window. A comforting feeling had settled in the queen's chest, chasing away the bad feelings of the previous day. Manon wondered if some of this was due to the owner of the hand that drew lazy circles around her waist. Dorian was smiling when she turned and laid her head against his chest.

— Good morning?

— Hm.

He laughed.

— Such a good mood.

— What kind of person wakes up in a good mood?

— Someone who's waking up with me, I guess.

Manon lifted her head to roll her eyes at him, but she found his blue eyes darkening with an expression she had seen many times before. He moved the hand that had been on her waist again, reaching the back of her tighs.

— Do you think Elide will mind if we're late for breakfast?

She turned to the window. From the position of the sun, it was just after dawn.

— It's too early for breakfast.

The witch had barely finished her sentence before Dorian passed his hand around her neck and pulled her face to his. It took only one movement and the two had switched positions, she digging her nails in the king's shoulders as invisible hands opened the buttons of her shirt. His shirt, actually.

The ghost hands moved up the queen's waist, leaving a trail of ice and fire that made her arch as they cupped her breasts. He lowered his body, kissing her skin until his face was between her thighs.

Manon grasped the sheets.

—

Dorian was much more awake when the two of them arrived, definitely late, at breakfast. He wouldn't have minded staying in bed all morning, though. Or the whole day. But they would have that night and all the others before they needed to leave. And they would certainly make up for the lost time. Aelin smirked at the king as he pulled out his chair to sit at the table, Manon did the same next to him. Here we go.

— Good morning, lazy people. Did you sleep well?

— Yes — he replied, ignoring the malice in her voice. — And you?

— I didn't sleep much, actually — the queen replied with a wink.

Chaol hid his face in his hands.

— One meal. One meal in peace was all I wanted.

— At least you don't have to suffer through this constantly— Lorcan grunted from across the table.

— I know you love us, lord Lorcan Lochan.

The Demi-Fae showed his middle finger to Fenrys.

— Not even at my wedding will you get off my back?

— "Not even at my wedding". Now he goes around telling even the stones that he is married. I bet you'll soon start writing that on your forehead.

— Relax, Lorcan. — The lord stopped grunting when Rowan pointed at Fenrys. — The puppy is just jealous because he's single.

— Single because he wants to be — Aelin corrected. — I'm sure a little tour around the city would be enough to bring him back with half the population as candidates.

Fenrys leaned back in his chair.

— I think I've decided to follow your example — a signal to Rowan and Lorcan — and wait for a beautiful, furious woman who definitely doesn't like me to appear right in front of me.

He cast a curious glance at Manon, beautiful and furious, definitely didn't like Fenrys, and right in front of him. Dorian hoped that no one noticed the cold wind that he couldn't keep from rushing through the room.

— So, witch — Fenrys gave her a smirk — Would you like to win a very handsome fae?

The king thought she would jump at Fenrys and shove a fork down his throat for the audacity, but she only frowned.

— Do you have invisible hands?

Fenrys blinked.

— What?

— Invisible hands. Do you have?

— No.

— Then no, I don't want.

Dorian bit the corners of his mouth to keep from smiling at the Wolf's confused expression. Aelin, however, understood very well and opened her mouth so wide that he could swear he heard her jaw snap.

— You use your invisible hands to... How naughty.

Dorian winked at the queen. The sound of metal clashing with wood filled the room as Aedion dropped the silverware on the table.

— Could you two please not talk about sex while we're having breakfast?

— No one has mentioned that word, Aedion. You're the one with the impure mind.

Aelin nodded to Dorian in agreement.

— I don't know why he keeps playing innocent. I've heard so many things...

— Aelin — Lysandra shouted across the room.

As the table fell into another discussion, he looked at the Witch Queen from the corner of his eyes and found her golden eyes already focused on him. Dorian gave Manon a small smile. She smiled back.

#manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #manorian #elide lochan #elorcan #lorcan salvaterre #sarah j maas #throne of glass #dorian x manon #elide x lorcan #fanfic #one shot #fenrys moonbeam #aelin galythinius #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #yrene towers #chaorene #chaol westfall #lysandra ennar #aedion ashryver

[merrybandofmurderers]

“You cannot save people. You can only love them.”

—Anaïs Nin

The Lovers

Nydha Lavellan Ghilain x Dorian Pavus

for @calicostorms

[ID: nine square images of equal size.

image one - close-up of two people’s lower faces in black and white. their noses are touching and their lips are parted. the person on the right is caressing the other person’s cheek.

image two - a bathtub carved out of stone. it is filling with water that has pink petals floating on it. there are red lanterns sitting on the rim and a shelf carved into the wall. there are deep shadows and the light brown stone has a tinge of green.

image three - close-up of a white person’s shoulder. they have pale freckled skin and long red hair. the background is green.

image four - a pattern of flowers in shades of yellow, orange, and brown. there are sunflowers, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and daises. they are interspersed with green leaves, red berries, and small dark brown leaves.

image five - a white person’s hand holding a bouquet of wild grasses, small flowers, and a white rose. the background is black.

image six - dark wooden bookshelves with a ladder in front of them. the books are in shades of brown and green. some have gold detailing.

image seven - close-up of a brown man’s lower face. he has neatly-trimmed black facial hair. he is shirtless with his right hand resting on his shoulder. the background is light gray.

image eight - painting of a cloaked figure reclining. behind them is a bush with entwined branches. the figure and bush are in gold and the background is dark green. overlaid in capitalized white text are the lyrics, “gently / gently / the / constellations / aligned.”

image nine - back and white illustration of two skeletons standing among tall grasses. one is handing a flower to the other. /END ID]

#30daysofdorian #dragon age #dorian x inquisitor #edit #/// #my stuff #my edits #friends ocs #follower edits #described edits

[pearblossommina]

They aren’t random lol. Adarlan’s emblem is quite literally a golden wyvern and the ironteeth are the only wyvern riders.Also who has golden eyes?Kaltain mentions in tog that Dorian’s fav color is white and Manon’s hair is white. Dorian is wearing a red cloak in his very first appearance and who wears a red cloak? Dorian literally came out of the valg possession for a min and the only thing he did was flirt with her.Also you seem to forget Manon asking Asterin about love after meeting Dorian.

That being said you are entitled to having a different opinion and I respect that.Just wanted to remind you of some things.

Well, let me put it like this:

I really enjoyed the scene where Dorian, held captive by the Valg inside him, was able to fight his way to the front of his mind just by looking into Manon’s eyes.

I really enjoyed the scene where Manon, sent to sack the city of Rithfold and capture Dorian for corrupt evil purposes, fought instead to NOT do that, and was pretty instrumental in his escape and rescue by Rowan.

But I did not enjoy the sudden, very sudden, very horny, scene with Manon chained to the bed and Dorian trying to be all daddy-dom on her… it just felt forced and unnatural, to me personally. BUT. Maybe I’m just a prude. I’ve felt like the other relationships in this series have more romance and more… chemistry! And I can root for them to fall and love and get together. And maybe I wasn’t paying attention, but I didn’t feel like Manon and Dorian were ever afforded a moment like that. A moment where I could root for them, and feel something for them. Barely any, anyway.

And it’s not wrong for their relationship to be more sexual than romantic - actually, that’s just fine! I support that!

It just didn’t feel… earned? I felt like Rowaelin have my whole heart and now Manorian are desperate to play catch up. Like guys, it’s fine. It’s not a competition.

It’s weird for me to complain about this because the romantic relationships in SJM’s books are the actual THING I read these books for, lol

(And thank you for sharing! Seriously! It’s ok if they’re your favorite ship, and I’m sorry if my opinion comes off as Manorian slander) (it is just my opinion tho!) (and my opinion may very well change!)

(there’s two whole books left!)

(who knows, they might surprise me)

#tog read along 2023 #manorian

[thegothiclitcoffeeshop]

Have you ever been scared by a customer, either on purpose or by accident

I mean we got customers like Adam who look pretty frightening in the right lighting, not to mention customers like Eric that like to hide in the shadows all the time

Funnily enough, one of the biggest fears is tripping over Victor (he'll lie down on the floor and pass out). I usually just yell for Henry (of the Clerval variety) or just gently nudge him out of the way with my foot.

Erik likes making sudden loud noises at the piano. And then he laughs when people jump.

Adam? Nahhh. Everyone loves him. He once startled Dorian by mistake and next thing you know, it's a hug-fest. Turns out Dorian likes enveloping hugs.

From Adam.

Yeah, don't try it otherwise.

Hyde once put on a red cloak and mask and scared the ******* out of Prince Prospero.

I applaud that.

So did everyone else.

#welcome to chauncey's #clarence renfald #yves ausclair #edward hyde #victor frankenstein #erik destler #prince prospero #henry clerval #adam frankenstein #i really love your questions guys keep it up!!!

[herenya-writes]

Day 19: Plump

The forest was oddly quiet as the party approached the Lion’s Pavilion. It put Arlaros on edge, and his grip on his staff tightened as he began to pull magic from the Fade. Inquisition agents had lured the red templar responsible for manipulating the Freemen of the Dales here, and Arlaros and his companions had been sent in to kill him and put an end to his influence. Judging by the stillness of the forest, the red templar was already here. Arlaros doubted he had come alone.

He brought the group to a stop just out of sight of the pavilion. “The scouts reported that the Knight-Captain is almost completely under the influence of red lyrium. He’s retained his human form, but he’s stronger, faster, and wields some control over the other red templars. We need to kill him quickly.”

His companions nodded. “If he’s anything like the other lieutenants, he’ll have a group of templars with him, maybe some that have already turned into those terrors,” Blackwall said. “I can keep them focused on me while you kill the Knight-Captain.”

“Okay. Remember, we lured him here, so I want to utilize our element of surprise as much as we can.”

“It’s nice be on the other side of a trap for once,” Dorian mused, and Arlaros couldn’t help but agree. They had walked into too many ambushes for his liking.

“Dorian and Cole, I want you two to sneak behind the pavilion. My guess is that the Knight-Captain will be in the building itself, and I want you to surprise him. I’m going to walk up with Blackwall and keep the captain’s eyes on me for as long as possible.”

“Is Dorian capable of sneaking?” Blackwall asked dryly. “He fights like he’s entertaining a crowd.” It was an old barb, one Arlaros had made himself before. Still, Dorian tended to rise to it. This time, he stayed quiet, his eyes fixed on Arlaros.

“Shining, standing. A target on his back. Wish it was on mine. Too many eyes, too many swords.” It was Cole who said the words, but Arlaros had no doubt whose mind they were plucked from. He held Dorian’s eyes. He wasn’t going to back down from this. The red templars wanted to kill him, and he wasn’t afraid to use their single-mindedness against them.

After a long moment, Dorian dipped his head slightly.

Arlaros turned back to the group. “Blackwall and I will keep the templars’ attention but we won’t charge into battle right away. I want the captain to think we’re here to bargain. That’s when Cole and Dorian will strike.”

Everyone around the circle nodded, although there was reluctance in Dorian’s eyes.

“We’ll split up now. There should be a path that circles around the back for you two to take,” he said to Cole and Dorian. “We’ll give you a minute to get into position.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Cole was gone. It was as if the air around him warped and shimmered, cloaking him. Dorian had no such abilities, but he was quiet as he crept down the path toward the pavilion. Arlaros watched him for longer than he should have.

“It’s hard to love a soldier.” Blackwall’s words startled him, and he tore his gaze away from Dorian’s retreating form. There was a knowing, sad look in Blackwall’s eyes. “It’s even harder when there’s a difference in rank.”

Arlaros wanted to protest, but it was pointless. His relationship with Dorian was no secret, nor was it a secret that things between them had been tense ever since he had been severely injured when they had retaken a fort not long ago. Dorian was upset with him for taking unnecessary risks, and he was upset with Dorian for trying to shield him. He was the Inquisitor, risk came with the title.

“For what it’s worth, you two are managing this better than most people I’ve seen. You’ll get through this too.”

Arlaros nodded, unable to come up with a proper answer. He wanted to believe that what Blackwall said was true, but it wasn’t like their circumstances were going to change any time soon. He was still going to be the Inquisitor tomorrow, and he would still be forced to put Dorian and himself in danger.

He shook his head to clear it and adjusted his grip on his staff. It was time.

He and Blackwall strolled up the path to the pavilion. As they had expected, there were a few templars guarding the pavilion, and Arlaros could make out the hulking figure of the Knight-Commander inside. He came to a stop, and Blackwall moved a few steps in front of him, his shield raised.

“Knight-Captain Carrol,” he called, “I’ve come to speak with you.”

The Knight-Captain slung his hammer off of his back and took a menacing step forward. “The chosen of the Elder One don’t speak to lesser beings,” he snarled, and Arlaros had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Today you die, Inquisi--”

His threat was cut short by a groan of pain, as Cole buried his daggers into the captain’s back. The captain spun around, and the nearby templars leapt into action.

Blackwall let out a roar and charged the nearest templar, bashing the man in the face hard enough that Arlaros could hear the sickening crunch of a breaking nose. Two of the templars immediately turned toward Blackwall, giving Arlaros an opening to fire white-hot lightning at their backs. They twitched violently and collapsed.

The other templar in front of the pavilion must have taken more red lyrium than the others, because by the time Arlaros turned toward her, she was already transforming into one of those lyrium monsters. He blasted her with a few bolts of lightning, but her new form absorbed them easily.

He hated fighting these things. He hated that Corypheus had driven people to become monsters to serve his means. He hated that he was part of it. But none of that stopped him from slamming his staff into the ground and sending a powerful wave of lightning rippling toward the creature. She stumbled, and Arlaros sent three more bolts flying toward her in rapid succession. Electricity crackled over her twisted form, and she screamed as she died.

Arlaros was already running past her before she hit the floor.

He burst into the pavilion with a spell crackling at the tip of his staff, only to stop short. The Knight-Captain was gone, reduced to nothing more than a smoldering pile of ashes, as were the other two templars who had been guarding him. Even the plump pillows that were piled in one corner were smoldering. And there was Dorian, leaning heavily on his staff and glaring at the ashes as if he wanted to kill the man all over again.

Arlaros let his magic dissipate and leaned his staff against the nearest wall. Then, he took a few slow steps toward Dorian. Now that he was closer, he could see sweat beading on Dorian’s too pale face.

Dorian looked up from the ashes that were once the knight-captain and met his eyes. Then, he collapsed.

Arlaros darted forward and caught him before his head could crack against the ground. He pulled Dorian close as panic made his blood roar. It took him precious moments to forced his heartbeat back under control so he could listen for Dorian’s heartbeat. The relief that flooded him when he found it was sweeter than anything.

“He’s overextended his magic reserves,” he explained as he stood, lifting Dorian in his arms. “He’ll be okay, but he needs to rest.”

Blackwall nodded and stepped back to give them space. “I’ll keep watch. Shout if you need me.”

“Thank you.” Arlaros hoped he could hear his sincerity.

In the corner of his eye, Arlaros saw Cole extinguishing the few embers that had landed on the pillows. He nodded his gratitude and set Dorian on the pillows, leaning him carefully against the wall and then sitting beside him. He wanted to wrap his arms around him, but he wasn’t sure if Dorian would appreciate that right now.

“He is so bright, so bright, and burning. Burning for me and I didn’t ask him to.”

Arlaros gave a rueful smile. “No, I didn’t ask him to. But I keep putting him in situations where he feels like he has to overextend himself in order to keep me safe. That isn’t fair.”

Cole sat cross-legged across from him, a frown on his face. “You both want to keep each other safe, but the danger doesn’t stop. You’re hurting and hurting each other. Why?”

He wished he had an answer. He looked over at Dorian, whose face was slowly regaining its usual color. Even though he had pushed himself to collapse, he still looked gorgeous, and Arlaros’s heart ached in his chest.

“It’s hard to accept that Dorian is going to be in danger for as long as he follows me,” he finally said, eyes still fixed on Dorian’s face. “Everyone who follows the Inquisition banner is in danger, but Dorian isn’t following the banner. He’s following me. And I want nothing more than to keep him at my side, but the risks…” He sighed heavily. “I imagine Dorian feels similarly. He wants to keep me safe, but I keep throwing myself into situations where he can’t control what will happen. It’s hard to love a soldier.”

Silence fell. When Arlaros finally looked over to try and see what Cole was thinking, he was met with empty air. Cole was gone.

He shook his head and turned back to Dorian, finally giving into his urge to wrap an arm around him and pull him closer. A few minutes passed in silence as Arlaros counted each of Dorian’s breaths. Eventually, his lover began to stir, and Arlaros pulled back to give him space.

Dorian’s eyes blinked open and found his almost instantly.

“Hello,” Arlaros whispered, a sad smile on his face. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Dorian blinked again and hummed. “And here I was hoping I’d get to nap a little longer. Still, I can’t think of a better sight to wake to.”

“Flatterer.”

“I speak only the truth when it comes to you, amatus.”

They slipped into silence. Moving slowly, Dorian stretched his arms and cracked his neck and summoned a small flame to his fingertips. He watched it dance in the slight breeze for a long moment before extinguishing it.

Arlaros swallowed. “This isn’t sustainable,” he said, praying that his voice would stay level. “I can’t watch you burn yourself up for me.”

Dorian hummed, still staring at his hands. “I will admit I may have acted rashly.” Then he looked up and met Arlaros’s eyes. “But how can I do any less if I know it will keep you safe? The Inquisitor is worth one crispy Tevinter mage.”

Anger rushed through Arlaros, and he let out a slow and measured breath. “Not to me. Do you know how hard it is for me to send you into situations like this? What if you and Cole had been caught? What if Blackwall and I hadn’t arrived in time? Being the Inquisitor means making those decisions, but it doesn’t make them easy.” He leaned forward until his forehead was pressed against Dorian’s. “I want you by my side, vhenan, but I don’t want to hurt you because of my selfishness.”

“If you’re selfish, what does that make me?” Dorian whispered. “If I had my way, you wouldn’t be out here, wading through templars and Maker knows what else.”

“That isn’t your choice to make.”

“No, no it isn’t. But I can choose to be by your side.” Dorian pulled back. “I don’t regret doing what I can to keep you safe, but I will try to be more aware of my own limits in the future. Burning that templar to ashes wasn’t, I suppose, strictly necessary.”

Arlaros leaned his head on Dorian’s shoulder. He murmured a thank you into his lover’s skin, and they allowed themselves a few more moments to sit in each other’s embrace before they forced themselves to rise.

#my fics #dorian pavus #arlaros lavellan #dragon age inquisition #dai #this one got away from me a little #which is funny because when i first saw the prompt i had exactly zero ideas #the characters decided to have a moment