malulls - Tumblr blog

malulls · 4 months

Text

'tis the damn season

Manorian modern au

Inspired by 'tis the damn season, by Taylor swift

Nsfw

December 23rd

Manon slammed the trunk harder than she should have. The car shuddered beneath her, as did Elide, but her friend said nothing. She just pulled Manon's second suitcase until she was next to her, and she was grateful for that.

The click of the car being closed was the only sound besides the wheels on the sidewalk to accompany them for a few minutes. Glennis' house was only a few meters away, but it was enough to annoy her. The nearest parking spaces were occupied, and Bronwen was an asshole who insisted on filling the garage when she had her own house to do it in. She could go fuck herself too.

Elide slowed down. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, but Manon knew she wanted to talk, to point out the everyday things that they hadn't discussed for a long time, ever since the distance — her fault, as well as many other things — between them began. Her friend was looking for something normal between them, and to be honest, so was Manon. But rebuilding the walls that had once come close to falling around herself, making them double in size, had taken a lot of effort. And tearing them down would take even more.

It wasn't a price she was willing to pay for just one week. Less than that if she was lucky.

Across the street, a woman Manon had never seen in the city slammed the car door. She had brown hair that hit the middle of her and was talking very fast on her cell phone. She wore a medical jacket.

Elide looked at the woman, at Manon, and looked away. Weird.

— Who’s that?

— Did you know that Yrene now runs the hospital?

Manon looked at her, surprised. The last time she was in town, Yrene Towers was finishing medical college.

— What does that have to do with her?

Elide cleared her throat. Manon almost stopped walking. Yrene was close to a subject she didn't want to hear about. Too close.

— Her name is Sorscha. She works there. She came from Fenharrow at the beginning of the year.

— Fenharrow? — Manon frowned. What was that woman doing in the tiny town where she had grown up? There were thousands of cities all over the country much closer to the frontiers, and somehow people ended up at that end of the world. — How the hell did she end up here?

Elide shrugged.

— I haven't talked to her very much. Yrene might know.

Luckily, the woman wasn't interesting enough for Manon to ask. She wasn't going to talk to Yrene. The doctor could break her face if she wanted, she didn't care. But there was more to the story. She knew Elide well enough to know when there was something on the tip of her tongue, even if the small, black—haired girl was the best liar Manon knew.

Apart from herself.

— Spit it out.

— She's been hanging out with Dorian.

Manon stopped. At least the four steps to Glennis' door were a good excuse for the reaction she shouldn't have had. With more force than necessary, she snatched her suitcase off the floor by the handle and began to climb.

— If I wanted to know who he's hanging with, I would have asked him.

Elide pulled up the second suitcase, with a little more difficulty due to her height, and examined her face. It turned out that a lifetime of being raised by her grandmother and the time in Los Angeles had honed her ability to appear indifferent over the last 23 years.

Before her friend could reply, the front door opened abruptly.

— Don't be rude to Elide. — Glennis said.

Then she pulled Manon into a tight hug that made her feel guilty for disappearing for four years. But not enough to make her regret it.

The comfort of the embrace made a lump appear in her throat. This was the grandmother who made Manon feel like she had something close to a family. The one who had taken years to find her. Who had arrived too late. It had taken her a while to put an end to the what ifs. What if her father had taken her mother with him when they moved to Rifthold? What if her grandmother had been away when her parents' accident happened. What if Asterin's mother had a better financial condition and had gotten custody of her. What if she hadn't had to grow up with that woman. Enough.

She made the questions go away and left her alone. As soon as Glennis let her go and Manon caught a glimpse of Bronwen in the doorway, she flashed her middle finger.

Her cousin just shrugged.

— Hi to you too, asshole.

Their grandmother slapped them both.

— If you start with that bullshit so soon, you can set up a ring in the street. In my house, behave yourselves. Bronwen, be nice to your cousin, you haven't seen each other for four years. — she emphasized the time. As if Manon didn't know how much the distance had hurt her. — Manon, you've been here for a too short time to have such a low level of patience.

— That's the full—time level. — she muttered.

Glennis greeted Elide and sent Bronwen to help Manon with her suitcases. She had been in the city for less than an hour and already wanted to disappear again.

Her room was just as she had left it. Incomplete, confused and a little lost. With half the things that had been hers packed, because despite the relief of no longer having to live under the same roof as her grandmother, it wasn't enough to make another place any less strange. Bronwen put down her suitcase without much care, but before she left, she stopped at the door.

— Look, we've never got on very well, but don't think I appreciate you being away for so long. Firstly because it upset Glennis, and secondly because I don't hate you. And even though I'm annoyed, I'm glad you're here.

Without giving her time to reply, her cousin left and slammed the door. She pulled off her boots and coat and sank onto the bed. She checked her cell phone before plugging it into the charger and closed the curtains to block out the afternoon sun, that was bringing a little warmth despite the winter. It reminded her too much of California for her liking.

Manon closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. She needed to sign the inheritance papers her parents had left for her. She should have done this when she was twenty—one, but her career was starting to take off, and since then she had been stuck in a mess of documents with the person she hated most in the world.

But she had already put that off for an absurd amount of time. Besides, if she wanted to stay in L.A., she needed the money. She hadn't looked into her grandmother's rigid face for years. That was long enough to need to do it one last time in her life.

But if it had only been that, a single person to avoid, she wouldn't be swimming in stress. The problem was that she was running away from the whole city. From Glennis and Bronwen, even though they were in the same house, she would have run away from Elide if her friend hadn't seen it coming and been quicker.

And there was him.

More than anything else, she was running away from Dorian Havilliard, which included his circle of friends and, consequently, half of the city. And now the lovely girl he was seeing. Manon didn't need to know anything about this. It made no difference. Nor was it the reason she wanted to break a window. She had a list full of them, and that one wasn't on it.

She thought about picking up her cell phone again, but to hell with it. The next day was Christmas Eve. Ironically, she was happy to get away from Los Angeles for a few hours. From her agent, from the madness, from the insufferable celebrities, from the few real friends she had made, and from her obligations.

Apart from the question of documents, having no commitments, no responsibilities the next day was... freeing. It lifted a suffocating weight from her back. It was the first time in a long time that she had had time to breathe.

Manon opened her eyes. She had an infinity of unresolved issues in that place. But Los Angeles wasn't her home. And perhaps she was the one making that city a hell.

—

December 25th

The advantage of living in a small town? Gossip spreads faster than fire on dry grass. Dorian wouldn't say he was a gossiper. He just liked to keep informed about other people's lives.

The bad side? When the gossip was about him. Or something he didn't want to know about. Elide had told her boyfriend Lorcan. Who had told Rowan. Which basically meant that the whole town knew. Dorian had to give him some credit, at least he was discreet. Rifthold was too small for a journalist, which was why Aelin had agreed to move with him to the capital, after he had stayed in the country for her. But in a small city? Rowan got really excited. The conclusion was that apart from his beauty, that was the reason he was adored by half of the old ladies there.

The point was that Dorian had spent the whole of Christmas trying not to think about it. About her. Just a few streets away. When they were finishing high school, they were practically on opposite sides of town, but Dorian hadn't set foot in his father's house for a long time. Not even when he went to the city for some reason. His mother and Hollin had stopped by his house, and had even sent him a present. It was something, even if it was more because she felt obliged to than because she wanted.

Now he was sitting on the couch, alone. Thinking. Having repeated doses of existential crises, which were interrupted by Aelin knocking on the door.

— Merry Christmas. — she said, her voice muffled as the two of them hugged.

He hugged Rowan and invited them in, but Aelin refused.

— My mom's waiting. We're just here to pick up my present.

Dorian chuckled.

— You're ridiculous. — But he went to get her package in the living room. When he came back to the door, she also had a package. Both shaped like books.

— What a surprise. — Aelin mocked. — Thanks.

— Are you having your party tomorrow? — Dorian asked.

— Of course, and on New Year's Day will be at Elide's house. We're staying until the 1st this time, it's been a while since we've been able to get everyone together. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about this. Do you think she'll go? Elide must want to take her.

She didn't have to say who.

— I have no idea. We haven't spoken since the day she left.

— I just wanted to let you know that she might be there. Good night.

Aelin nodded.

He said goodbye to them. Dorian wasn't sure how the thought of meeting her made him feel. Perhaps he was still angry. After a while, he had stopped thinking about her. Not completely. Some what ifs were hard to let go.

Especially when they had come so close to being what he wanted, only for everything suddenly end like it had never existed. It had been a long time, so many things had changed and happened. And the more time passed, the more Dorian was sure he could let it go once and for all.

But it would have been good, if she had been the one.

—

December 26th

Aelin Galathynius knew how to give a party.

Dorian had to give his friend the credits. Even if, after drinking, dancing, laughing and chatting, he was standing on the balcony alone while the rest of his group of friends split up into couples. Except for Fenrys, of course. He was with some random woman in one of the mansion's many rooms. If he wasn't with more than one.

He could be as a couple if he started to make an effort, but besides the fact that Sorscha hadn't finished her shift at the hospital, the thought of meeting her was bothering him. Probably because he didn't want to be an asshole or admit that he was thinking about someone who had become a ghost years ago. Dorian shook his head before he followed that line of thought and turned to get another glass of champagne. And froze.

Underneath the heavy coat she had hung up, she wore heeled boots, pants that hugged her legs so tightly it should have been a crime, and a sleeveless blouse with a neckline that could have been an attempt on his sanity. All in black. Except for the lipstick.

He had seen Elide earlier, but alone. Now... Dorian didn't know why he was so surprised. It wasn't like he hadn't known she was in town, Aelin had made sure of warning him personally that she might be there. But apparently, he hadn't prepared himself as well as he thought. She was beautiful. She always was, but somehow she'd managed to look better. Her hair was longer, past the middle of her back and in a more refined cut than the one she wore in high school. He had avoided the pictures when magazine covers and social media ads started appearing with her face, but the urge to see her sometimes was stronger.

Guess who just got fucked?

Dorian hadn't noticed that he was holding his breath until he saw her turn her back and go to another part of the house. Then he felt a bitter taste in his throat. That was why he had given up on what he was starting with Sorscha. Because, apparently, just knowing that she was in town was enough to take ten steps back.

Giving up on something good, something that might have a future, something that could turn into a real relationship, just for seeing Manon. Four years. After four years without a word between them, after she had left, Dorian was still there. Right where she left him.

—

After spending much more time washing her hands than was necessary, she decided it was enough. This was ridiculous. It was past time to get out of that place instead of hiding in a bathroom like a scared teenager. At least she had somehow managed not to bump into Dorian. Manon had only glimpsed him once and ended up on the other side of the room.

Manon had been at the party for exactly 48 minutes and already regretted it. Elide had spent the whole afternoon annoying her, until Glennis decided she couldn't take it anymore and helped her friend to push her out. Terrible idea.

She was going to sign the documents with her grandmother the next day. Then she might never set foot on the street again until she was on her way to an airport. Maybe she'd go back to Los Angeles sooner. Or end up in any other city, it didn't matter. Just one more day, she decided, closing the bathroom door. She'd survive one more fucking day…

The thought of meeting him brought up so many different feelings, none of which she wanted to feel. Remorse. Shame. Longing. So much that sometimes it still hurts. Ok, that's enough.

Manon stopped. Just as she had at the door of Glennis's house. She froze in place when she raised her head. When she recognized his features in the low, spaced lights of the hallway. His eyes were as wide as she felt her own for half of a second before she forced her face back into its usual expression.

Dorian did the same. The shock quickly turned to an emotion she didn't like and couldn't identify.

— It's been a while, witchling.

The nickname didn't seem satisfied with just entering her ears. His voice made sure to send a series of shivers through her entire body, which made her regret wearing only her bodysuit. The heavy barrier of the jacket would cook her inside the house, but it would be very welcome now.

She gave up trying to get past him. She still had a whole hallway to cross to the stairs. Fucking hell.

— I think so.

— How's life in L. A.? I imagine it's pretty good, since you haven't set a foot here for four years.

— You can see it. Has Yrene talked to you? I'm sure she wants to see you.

It irritated her deeply. At any moment he, Elide and Glennis would get together to put up an outdoor in a square counting how many seconds she had spent away.

— I've never been the biggest fan of this place.

— I haven't talked to anyone.

From the way Dorian smiled, he was enjoying the conversation and her rudeness wasn't going to send him off any time soon. Good.

— Oh, it's an usual activity then. I thought not talking to anyone was only for special occasions, like when you go to the other side of the country.

— Glennis and Bronwen knew. And they were the only ones who needed it.

He snorted.

— You really got some nerve to say that.

Manon held back from expressing any physical reaction, like slapping him in the face.

— Incredibly, I have better things to do than debate this with you. If you had something to say to me, you could have sent a message. It's a bit late now.

— No, Manon, you could have sent a message, breaking up with me, saying you were going. You could have sent a damn goodbye emoji, anything would have been better than nothing at all.

Manon felt the heat of anger and shame spreading across her face. Thankfully the hallway was dark.

— And what do you want me to say? — she asked, gritting her teeth. She was aware that they were one step away from start shouting, but she didn't care.

— The reason? Or I don't deserve an explanation either?

— What difference does it make? Why do you even care?

Dorian opened his mouth to reply, but someone came from the stairs to the corridor where they were. He went to one of the doors, opened it and entered a room, but didn't close it, waiting for her to come in. What a pitty. Now she was free to get out of there and lock herself in her room, as she should have done all night.

That's what Manon thought, until she recognized the long brown hair in one of the dim lights in the corridor. The same one she'd seen coming out of a car in the first few minutes in Rifthold. Sorscha. She must have arrived recently, Manon hadn't seen her anywhere in the house. And if she'd been at the party earlier, Dorian probably wouldn't have been there fighting with her.

So, giving in to her ridiculous jealousy, Manon entered the room with him and closed the door behind her.

The room was almost brighter than the corridor, with moonlight coming in through the window. Dorian turned on a small lamp next to a pile of books. The bedroom reminded her of his old one when they were both teenagers, and it could have been cozy, if his expression wasn't freezing the room. She regretted going in there, continuing a fight that would bring back everything she had been struggling to forget over the last few years. His gaze emitted a cold she had never seen in Dorian. One that was too similar to her own. And one that Manon knew she was only staring at because she had caused the pain that had put it there.

Sorscha's footsteps sounded outside in the hallway, and she was afraid Dorian would say something, but they remained silent until she was down the stairs again. A slight feeling of guilt troubled her, but it passed quickly. It wasn't the worst thing she had done in her life.

— Where did we stop? — He asked.

— You were about to start a monologue.

His smile was all sarcasm and the coldness she was already starting to hate.

— That was too insensitive. Even for you. — He spat out the last word with such anger that it almost made her want to run away. Hell of jealousy that didin't let her walk away and pretend nothing had happened. — You're not going to convince me that you didn't care, so why, Manon? That's all I want to know. What I've been trying to understand for four fucking years.

She bit her lip. Hearing him say her name broke up the familiarity that the fight had brought and reminded her that they had just met. The strangeness of that reality after all the scenarios and possibilities Manon had built up in her head of what it would be like to meet him again made her dizzy.

She had lost count of how many times she had replayed again and again the scene in her mind when she couldn't sleep. When having to face him was less complicated than whatever she was going through in California.

— You knew that the only thing I'd wanted my entire life was to get out of this city.

— But I didn't know that you had no reason to stay.

— Are you sure? Why would I stay? To spend another night with you? You decided you wanted more than a casual thing on your own, when we both knew from the start that it wouldn't be anything more than that.

A laugh without a glint of humor came out of her mouth, leaving behind a bitter taste that burned her throat. It sounded just exactly her grandmother's.

A sound of pure shock and indignation came out of him.

— Is that what you invented to sleep better? We were long past that when you left.

— Weeks before. We'd already made up.

— We had fought. — She tried to defend herself, knowing she couldn't.

— And what did you want me to say? — she exploded, taking a step towards him. — Would you be happy when I told you I was moving away just when things were like you wanted?

The shouting had totally started now.

— Of course not, but at least I'd know! — he replied, taking another step closer to her. — I had to find out from your cousin that you were on the other side of the fucking country because you weren't anywhere and wouldn't answer your cell phone, without any explanation. Do you have any idea how desperate I was, thinking your grandmother had done something to you?

That was like a punch in the gut. Manon had never thought of it in that way, and the worst part was that the possibility of her grandmother hurting her was real. A million unspoken things bubbled up in her throat as silence killed the argument, but when she felt an apology appearing, she decided it was time to change the subject.

— Do you really want to fight at a crowded party? — she pointed out, casually.

Dorian remained silent for a few seconds, while he calmed his breathing.

— Do you want to try again somewhere quieter? The middle of the forest is pretty empty at this hour.

— The forest? What if I decide to sacrifice you?

He pressed his lips together to contain a smile or a grimace, she didn't know. With the direction of the conversation going in something so similar to what they used to have, it could have been either of them.

— Knowing that you have another ten witches on your back? I don't think so.

When the silence returned, she took two steps towards the door. It seemed wrong to leave like that, to be anywhere in Rifthold where he wasn't with so many unresolved things hanging between them. Manon knew that meeting him again would be bad, but she hadn't imagined that the list of possible after—effects was so long.

— When are you leaving? — he asked, as soon as she reached the exit of the room.

Manon turned to him, leaning against the door.

— As soon as I get what I need from my grandmother.

— What? — He frowned. — Are you going to see her?

— It's about inheritance. — She answered quietly. That subject was bad in every way she could imagine. — My lawyer said there was no way to avoid it.

And she had tried hard.

— But then you should have done this two years ago.

Manon shrugged.

— It wasn't time enough away.

Before she could open the door, he took a few steps towards her.

— Well, remember that before you leave, we have a fight to finish.

She huffed.

— You should give up and run while you still have the chance.

— I never ran from you, witchling.

— It would’ve been easier if you had.

The sentence hung in the air, waiting for the direction of the conversation to be decided. Dorian silently agreed to put the seriousness and the bad part of the past aside for a moment, as he opened a half-smile.

— True, but then it wouldn't be fun. And imagine how sad your life would be if you'd never slept with me?

A siren started to play in her head. Manon frowned.

— Do you really want to get into this topic?

— I'm not getting into anything. — She rolled her eyes. — I was just saying.

The problem was that when it came to them, nothing was just anything. She looked at him. The slightly longer curls, the hint of a beard that hadn't existed when he was a teenager. The memories of why she had slept with him more than once, something she never did, came flooding back. And now he was no longer on the other side of the room, let alone in the country.

— Really?

He shrugged.

Indeed. Manon tilted her head back, eyes on his face again. Her heart immediately raced. After all, what did she intend entering in a dark room with Dorian?

— It's not like this could get any worse.

If she was already in hell, hugging the devil would be nothing.

— If it's ok with you, it's ok with me, princeling.

Saying it out loud was worse. It made the terrible idea slap reality in her face. Dorian approached slowly, put his hand on her side and locked the door. He looked down at Manon, analyzing her face as she had done to him seconds ago. Her heart seemed about to burst out of her mouth. She gave him a look of "just do it". Dorian got the message.

When they kissed, her body tensed like a rope about to snap. The touch was featherlight, a taste of what she had wanted back for so long. He deepened the kiss and her breathing faltered. The sensation of kissing someone she already knew, the familiarity and yet the difference that had arisen in the years apart, turned her mind upside down. His kisses always managed to make her forget that the rest of the world existed, and it was no different this time.

They gained back the ability to move at the same time. Dorian pressed Manon's body between his and the door, and her hand went to the back of his head to pull him close. In the seconds it took them to catch their breath, they stared at each other with the same haunted expression. At least he was as stunned as she was.

This time, when they kissed agaian, he wrapped his arms around her waist, taking the opportunity to touch every inch of bare skin. Dorian ran his hands down the fabric covering her torso, looking for a zipper or button, and mumbled into her mouth when he didn't find one. Manon only murmured "body" and tilted her head back, exposing her neck. Dorian caressed her nipples over the fabric, leaving a mark in the space between her shoulder and neck. Why the hell hadn't she chosen something easier to take off?

She bit her lower lip to hold back a moan as he caressed her, her breasts heavy with lust. When his lips were on hers again, Manon rested her thigh on his hip and Dorian supported her legs so that she could pass them around his waist. Before she could think better of it, he was already carrying her to the bed. He laid Manon down and took off his jacket and shirt.

— Are we really doing this? — she asked, although she was devouring him with her eyes. She didn't mind shamelessly analyzing each muscle he had gained with time.

Dorian lay on top of her.

— When did we ever make a good decision?

Touché

— Just confirming it.

The more they kissed, the less it seemed to be enough. The sexual tension that had always existed between them was on the verge of making her lose her mind. Manon started to open the buttons and zipper of his pants while he pulled down hers. Dorian stood at the edge of the bed while he took off her boots and socks, and finally reached the opening of her bodysuit.

— Did you have to choose the most complicated clothes in the world?

She crossed her arms even though she was mentally cursing herself for the same reason thirty seconds ago.

— I'm sorry to make your life difficult, but I didn't dress with that in mind.

She raised her arms for him to pull off the last piece of clothing, taking her panties with it. But, to her surprise, he turned her around. It was better that way, actually, if they didn't have to look at each other's faces. Dorian ran his fingers up the inside of her thigh, while pushing her hair away from her neck. Manon let her head fall back onto the pillow, clutching the sheet when she remembered that there was still a party going on outside. Still, it was hard to remain silent when he slipped two fingers inside her, still leaving kisses on the back of her neck. Any rational thought left in her head vanished as he moved his fingers slowly.

It was more of a tease than anything, because he pulled away. Manon almost cursed Dorian when the waves of pleasure pushing her close to relief stopped, but he opened the drawer in the bedside table next to him and took out a packet of condoms. She frowned.

— Does Aelin have a stock of these in every room in the house?

If Dorian had a room in Aelin's house, he probably had an altar in Chaol's.

— This room is mine.

She raised her arm to support her head and turned to him.

— So you, very unpretentiously, brought me to argue in your room?

— In my defense, you could've left.

He made her grimace disappear with more kisses and this time, beyond just desire, she felt her heart ache for all the things they could have been and she had ruined. He lay on top of her and, before she could continue thinking, Dorian spread her legs and entered her in a single movement. Manon let her face fall back on the pillow below, as he brought her wrists together and held them above her head. She would have completely forgotten that they couldn't make a sound if it hadn't been for the loud music. Mainly after he wrapped his hand around one of her thighs and pulled it up, opening her wider, the change in angle made him hit the right spot.

His hard strokes became faster, and with all the filthy things he was whispering in her ear, it didn't take long for Manon to bury her face in the pillow to muffle a scream. He bit her shoulder and came seconds later, still thrusting, prolonging the feeling for them both. Slowly, Dorian pulled out of her and lay down on the other side of the bed. Even after she lifted her face, facing him, neither of them said anything, small shivers still running through their bodies.

Manon could have slept there if she'd stayed like that for a few more minutes. So she got up. She sat on the edge of the bed, trying to find her clothes. But before she could get up, he wrapped an arm around her waist.

— Leaving already, witchling?

She opened her mouth to reply, but ended up holding back a moan when he licked her neck, caressing the curve of her breast with his thumb. Not reaching where she needed, just making her want more. It was working.

She turned her face to him and he raised his head. They could have stared at each other for hours, a silent conversation that made it clear that this would happen again. But not tonight

— I want to sleep.

He chuckled quietly, and didn't insist when Manon got up. She started to get dressed, more than aware that he was on the bed without a single item of clothing, staring at her.

She stopped at the door, still with the feeling she'd had earlier that she shouldn't leave the strange bubble that the room had become, sheltered from reality and anyone besides them.

Manon closed the door without giving him a chance to reply and, this time, ran for the exit, without giving herself a single second to think about the last hours. She had stayed much longer than she should have at that party.

— Good night, princeling.

—

December 27th

Dorian was looking for the leftover of the sweets that Nesryn's father had sent in the kitchen cupboards, when someone knocked the door. He went to the living room to open the door, and the last thing he expected in the world was to see Manon on the other side. Especially after the night before.

He had spent the rest of the night and the whole day thinking about it, replaying the conversation, the fight, and everything that happened afterward on a loop in his mind. And from the way Manon was struggling to keep her face blank, she was thinking exactly the same thing.

— I'm very surprised.

— Asterin called me and asked me to pick up a box with you. Something from the truck that she needs.

When Asterin Blackbeak had sent him a message, Dorian hadn't thought that this was what she had intended. He was going to send her some stickers cursing and saying thank you later.

— I know what it is. It's in the garage.

He led the way and Manon entered, looking around to analyze the house. Dorian wondered if she liked it. She used to say that the mansion he'd grown up in was so exaggerated that it lost its beauty. He agreed, but he never knew if she really thought that, or if her dislike of the place was because of what Dorian had been through with his father.

When they arrived at the garage, he showed her the box on one of the shelves, and of course Manon tried to pick it up herself. She was far from being short, but it was enough for him to love the things that the height difference between them provided.

He leaned behind Manon to pick up the box, touching every inch of her back in the process and remembering the sensation of being inside her in that same position a few hours ago. She turned around with her arms crossed, between him and the shelf.

— You're still that shameless?

He left the box on the bench next to him and immediately forgot it existed.

— You could've let me get it.

— I didn't ask your help.

— It was as clear as the sun that you weren't going to reach that shelf.

He saw the exact moment when Manon ran out of arguments by the way her mouth tightened.

— You could've let me get out of the way then.

— Nice try, but you didn't even try to move.

— So what? You let me in.

— You came in because you wanted to. You could've waited at the door.

— You —

He ended the argument with a kiss.

She'd gone there with an objective, just as Dorian had when he'd taken her to his room at the party. Was he an idiot for still wanting Manon so badly after everything she'd done? What a pity. She wouldn't be in town for long, so it would be over as quickly as it had started.

Somehow they ended up upstairs, their clothes disappearing on the way. He pushed her against the door as soon as it was closed and knelt down, pulling her pants down with him, doing what he hadn't had time to do the night of the party.

Dorian put one of Manon's legs on his shoulder and brought his mouth to her center, closing his eyes when he tasted her after so long. The sound that came from her mouth made his cock ache, and pulled his gaze upwards. She had one hand in his hair, her head leaning back against the door, her breath panting and a blush on her cheeks. Still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

He moved his tongue all over her again, tasting every inch of her slowly, until her body started to tremble and Manon pulled his hair to make him stand. He had a condom in his hands in seconds while she caught her breath, watching him. Dorian had felt rather than seen her gazes in the darkness of the hallway and the bedroom. Now at least he could identify what she was thinking.

He pushed her back against the wall and Manon wrapped her legs around his waist. Since they couldn't do it the day before, they kissed the moment he buried himself in her. She let her head fall on the door, looking at him with her mouth half open and her golden eyes lighten up with desire.

— I love our ability to pretend nothing happened. — he said.

Manon let out a half-smile and thrust her hips, making him move. Dorian was shared between her mouth, neck and breasts, knowing that she would curse him for the hickeys afterwards, but at the moment neither of them cared. He'd be lucky if the door didn't break after being slammed in the lock.

When they finished, they threw themselves on the bed. This time, whether it was because the position required more effort, because of the two orgasms or because she was giving up her stubbornness, Manon didn't leave immediately. She even let him play with the ends of her hair. After a long time, she turned to him. Dorian had already thought of what to say in the meantime. Suddenly, they were both in their second year of high school, in the first few months when he still had to convince her not to leave before she decided she had stayed too long.

— Are you in a hurry, witchling?

—

Manon parked outside Glennis's house, Asterin's box in the trunk. She looked at the dashboard. She had left for Dorian's house in the afternoon. It was past ten pm. She tried not to be silent when she entered the house, like a teenager sneaking back after bedtime.

The last thing she needed was Glennis or Bronwen asking where she was. Manon just wanted to get in the shower and sleep until noon, and she was happy to do that, especially after the afternoon she'd had. Somehow it was even better than at the party. This wouldn't do any good for either of them, but, stupid as it was, as long as Dorian wanted it too, she had no intention of stopping.

Maybe a few days in Rifthold wouldn't be such a nightmare after all.

—

December 28th

Manon regretted the thought less than twenty—four hours later. She hadn't been thinking when she'd driven to Dorian's house, she'd just ended up there. He opened the door and looked at her, the half—smile disappearing from his face and being replaced by concern as soon as he saw her face.

— What had she done?

At least she hadn't had to explain.

— Are you busy?

— No. — He made room for her to enter and closed the door. They stared at each other, Dorian waiting for her to say something until Manon sighed and gave in.

— She took the opportunity to throw in my face everything she hadn't been able to over the last few years. — She laughed without humor, letting her body fall against the wall. — You guess how many things she had to say to me.

— I'm sorry.

She took the courage to look at Dorian. He seemed to want to hug her, but there was no space left between them for this.

— I shouldn't have come here. — She shook her head and headed for the door, but he held her arm.

— You don't have to go if you don't want to.

Being honest with herself, Manon was afraid of what that would turn into if she didn't leave.

— Are you going to distract me, princeling?

He tugged her arm slightly, a step closer.

— Only if you don't run off after.

She lifted a shoulder. Dorian had said at the party that it couldn't get any worse. Apparently they both took it as a challenge.

Later, Manon would be lying if she said she regretted it. It was a little easier to forget problems eating pastries from Nesryn Faliq's family bakery in his huge, soft bed. Her hair was still damp from the shower Dorian had convinced her to take with him in the middle of the night. It was something they had rarely been able to do before, even though his parents didn't give a damn what he did or where he was.

— She's with Sartaq.

Manon swallowed the rest of the lemon tart.

— Really?

— Yes, but they think no one knows.

She crossed her legs, looking for a brigadeiro in the box.

— Are you going to update the gossip I missed?

He laughed.

— Yes, but I thought Elide did that.

Manon frowned as she remembered what her friend had told her.

— Elide only told me things I'm not interested in knowing.

Dorian raised his eyebrows, but she didn't elaborate. He picked up his cell phone.

— I'll open the talk with Aelin and Rowan.

She came a little closer, but he made room so that she was practically on his lap. She ignored the urge to lean her head on his shoulder, but knew that if she had been distracted, she would have done so. It was like they had continued exactly where they had stopped. Which meant things were about to go bad.

—

December 29th

Manon was wearing Dorian's shirt. He held her while they slept. Everything was so similar to how they used to be that she could have gone back in time. The peace and tranquility of a good relationship, which she had never imagined she would feel one day, was the same. Dorian woke up before her, which never happened, and he wasn't in bed. He was making breakfast when she appeared, her hair messy and wearing his clothes. That was always when she looked most beautiful.

— Good afternoon.

— I have to enjoy it while I can. — She defended herself, sitting down on one of the high stools at the kitchen island. — I can't waste half my day sleeping in Los Angeles.

He pushed a plate towards her.

— What's it like? In L.A.?

Manon stopped her toast halfway to her mouth.

— You really want to know?

He shrugged and sat down on the stool next to her. It was weird telling anyone about all of that, especially Dorian, but the conversation eventually became easy. He told her about the bookshop he'd opened with Aelin, about the new house he'd built himself, while Manon spewed venom about the celebrities she'd had the displeasure of meeting.

— But do you hate them all? Like, zero famous friends?

She nodded.

— Just my agent, Morrigan. And Lidia Cervos.

Dorian's eyes widened.

— Lidia Cervos?

— Yes. — She spoke again before he asked for a photo with Lidia or something. — It's funny, because we only met because I was going out with her current boyfriend.

His grimace was priceless.

— The one from the rock band?

She nodded.

— Yes, why?

She held back her smile when he looked away to find an excuse for his sudden mood.

— He doesn't seem to be your type.

— And what would that be?

— Black hair...

— His hair is black.

— Not shaved. Not long. No piercings, no tattoos...

— You look like a conservative lady.

He threw a grape at her.

— Blue eyes...

— His eyes are —

— Blue, Manon. Not violet or whatever that weird color is, blue. Like this. — he said, pointing to his own face.

— As convenient as your self—description is...

He interrupted her with another kiss. After stopping long enough to put the plates in the sink, Dorian put his hands on her thighs under his sweatshirt and placed Manon on the bench, his tongue caressing hers and his fingers between her legs. She smiled as he sucked another mark on her neck, making a mental note to make him jealous more often.

—

It was dark again, and Manon hadn't left his house since the day before. They were lying on the couch, Dorian on the end and she between him and the backrest, his fingers finally stroking her hair, in the way she liked it so much. The familiar touches and affection were good. Really good. But they hurted too. She lifted her eyelids and found him staring at her, a hint of sadness mixed with the blue of his eyes. When he leaned in to kiss her, she didn't pull away.

The beginning of the kiss was enough for her to see that this one was going to be different. Her heart immediately raced. It felt like it was going to explode in her chest when he ran his tongue over her lower lip, before sliding it in her mouth. No rush, no trying to hide anything, just longing and everything they hadn't said to each other.

When it was over, neither of them moved. They continued with their foreheads touching, still not wanting to know what would happen when the moment passed. But the fear soon hit her, as if someone had opened the windows and let icy wind in. It pulled Manon out and made her sit on the couch, her back to Dorian. He took a deep breath, exhaling tiredness without having to say a word.

— You can't help running away, can you?

— And you need to complicate everything. — she replied, but not even her own voice sounded convinced.

— Oh right, because everything was so simple until now.

She turned to him.

— It could be, if you could ignore this for one damn weekend.

— You trying so hard to pretend you don't feel anything isn't going to make it true.

Manon got up from the couch.

— And why should I do anything different if it's going to end in days?

He got up too.

— You tell me! Things don't have to stay like this.

— And what's going to change when I go back to L.A.? — She felt an alarm screaming in her head, but ignored it. — Give me a single reason not to leave things as they are. I don't see any.

She regretted it the moment the words left her mouth. She had already said the same thing, the same lies, years ago.

It had already been clear that there were feelings between them, but it was the first time they had talked and admitted it. Of course, she had tried to push him away, but Dorian didn't let her. That fight they managed to resolve, was one of the few times in her life that Manon had gone back on her word. At some point, she regretted it. If they had been fighting when she went to Los Angeles, a small part of things would have been easier. Now... he just shook his head.

— I'm not doing this again.

Dorian walked past her to get his sweatshirt from the kitchen. To leave, Manon realized. Immediately, despair set in. He would walk out of that door and he could go anywhere. If he didn't want to see her ever again and disappear until she was gone, he could. She remained static, watching the fragile shield they had managed to maintain crumble. Until he passed her and her body moved of its own accord.

She grabbed his arm and Dorian stopped, looking at her with pure anger and hurt on his face. Her hands were shaking. Was this how he had felt when he watched her leave, not being able to do anything?

Thorns pierced her throat. It would be hard to pull them out, but Manon wasn't going to lose him out for being a coward again.

— I couldn't say goodbye because if I had to, I wouldn't have left. — she said. And once she'd started, she couldn't stop, the words came out in a torrent. — When Asterin called to say that she had made a friend who had agreed to be my agent, I didn't give myself time to think. I just went, because if I thought about it, if I told you, I wouldn't leave, and I had to. I couldn't stay here, Dorian. But Glennis had found me, I'd met Elide, and I had you. I had accepted that I had you. How could I go so far away, leaving everything that was important behind?

Manon took a deep breath. Her chest was hurting so much it was suffocating, but she had to keep going.

— But I'd never have a chance of something like that happening again. I practically informed Glennis that I was leaving because I lived in her house. And that's the only reason I was able to go. It doesn't mean I don't regret it every fucking day.

Dorian blinked quickly and swallowed. She wasn't crying, but she knew there was pain in every line of her face.

— But what about after that? — he asked. — When you were already there, or when things started to work out? You had weeks, months, years to say something. Anything, Manon.

She shook her head, still not sure if she was breathing.

— Weeks, months, years later, I was still dying inside. I still am. The first year was... — she had to stop again as the memories came. — Impossible. I wanted to run back, but I couldn't, not with my grandmother here. I couldn't give up, I didn't want to run back and have her telling me I was the fragile little girl who deserved every slap. If I'd talked to you, if I'd had the slightest impression that you didn't hate me and would rather never see me again, I would have come back.

— That's my reason. — she said, hating her voice for failing.

The words died between them and were replaced by silence. Dorian wasn't looking at her, but he hadn't moved either. Manon kept her hand firmly around his arm.

Dorian nodded.

— Was it worth it? — he asked.

She didn't know how to answer. She asked herself that question every day. Was it worth being away from her grandmother? Yes. But to be away from everyone she loved? Never. Everything she had built up in her career? Yes. But in exchange for the hell that life in L.A. had been? Having to live every day with people who reminded her of her grandmother, always around just to find out if Manon could make it?

— I don't know. — she admitted.

Things weren't absolute, they didn't have only good and bad sides. But she would be lying if she said she didn't look back at the road not taken

Dorian finally looked at her. Manon felt her own eyes burning. The fear was visible on her face, as was the request for him not to leave. He no longer looked angry, but deeply sad, like the seventeen—year—old boy who barely looked in his father's direction. Manon hated knowing that this time, it was she who had left him like this. Wasn't that why she had resisted so much before agreeing to be with him? Apart from her selfishness, cowardice and fear when she saw that she really liked him, but because she knew she would hurt him.

— I'm sorry. — Manon finally said. He said nothing.

Dorian dropped his arm when she let it go. She was thinking that she would have to go upstairs and get her things, but he put his arms around her waist and hugged her. Manon went still. A knot tightened in her throat, and without realizing it she had hugged him back, as firmly as she could.

— I'm sorry. — she murmured.— I'm so sorry.

— I know. — His voice was low enough that she almost didn't hear it. — We'll be all right.

Two tears escaped before she could stop them, but Dorian didn't notice. They could have spent an eternity there, as long as he didn't let her go, Manon wouldn't either. Finally, when the two of them parted, they didn't say anything more, he just held out his hand. She took it.

—

— Will you ever be less stubborn? — Dorian complained, even though he was laughing against her neck.

December 30th

— The day you become less annoying.

Manon turned to him, smiling, his arm still around her waist. She had only left his house early in the morning to pick up some clothes. Glennis and Bronwen were awake and tried to tease her, but she just left the house as quickly as she came in. Manon would be back, though. She owed them a real talk, too.

They hadn't slept much after spending the whole night talking, truthfully, that time. She had told him everything, from her first months in L.A. to what had happened with her grandmother that week. Dorian rested his arm next to her head, his nose almost touching hers.

— I'm sorry, but it's my favorite activity.

— I don't think so.

She pulled Dorian into a kiss. Manon spread her legs and he laid between them. She was tired, but apparently not enough, because wetness pooled between her legs.

Her phone rang, ruining her mood immediately, and he kissed the tip of her nose before moving away to let her answer. When she saw the name on the screen, Manon froze, all the comfort of seconds ago disappearing.

— It's my agent.

She went out into the corridor.

— Mor?

— Did you do what you needed to do, sweetheart?

She sighed and leaned against the wall. Here we go.

— Yes.

— That's good. So, when are you coming back?

— When do I need to come back?

A second of silence on the other end of the line, then she let out a little scream.

— So you're your hot ex—boyfriend...

— Morrigan.

— All right, love, I get it. I can get you to stay until the 2nd, but you'll need to post something. Something about the small town, family, all that shit we know you love. Something like: "hey Instagram, I haven't forgotten about you! I just missed my family, and that's what the holidays are for, isn't it?" I think that's enough.

— Right. — Manon interrupted, before she started babbling. — Is that all you wanted to know?

— Of course, sweetie. We'll update your schedule when you get here. — She paused, and her voice lost its playful tone. — I've been with you for three years, Manon, and you've never taken a single break. You can stay there for a few more days, I'll make sure it won't do too much damage.

— Thank you. — she said sincerely.

— I love you too. Bye!

Before Manon could protest, Mor turned off. Dorian was sitting up in bed.

— Do you have to go?

— Not now. We still have a few days.

— And when you need to? How are we going to do that?

She sat on his lap and buried her face in his neck. She would miss his smell. His smiles. Perhaps even more than when she had gone for the first time.

— I don't know. My schedule is always a nightmare. I can't get back here that soon.

He wrapped his arms around her.

— How about once a year?

Manon pulled away to see his face. She had been waiting apprehensively for that moment even before they were ok.

— Is that enough?

Dorian brushed strands of hair away from her face.

— I can go to L.A. before that. If you want me there.

— I won't complain.

He leaned back against the pillows and Manon sat against him. She looked around the room, at the snow—covered forest through the window, and sank into the warmth of his embrace. She could already feel her heart breaking to leave that bed, the most comforting place she had ever known. Dorian entwined his fingers in hers.

— What if I asked you to stay?

Her heart raced. Manon hadn't considered the possibility. But could she? Would she throw it all away, would she have to throw it all away to stay there? She saw the other road again, the one that looked so much better every time she looked at it. She wasn't sure if life in L.A. was worth it. But her grandmother was still in that city.

She needed time. She needed to think. Manon turned to him.

— Then I would ask you to wait.

Dorian nodded, a serious expression on his face. But he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

— Then I'll put a plane ticket on your account, witchling.

—

New Year's Day

The Anielle Lake was crowded at that time of year. With not many other entertainment options in Rifthold, the whole town went there to watch the fireworks on New Year's Eve. Everyone was at Elide's house, which was near the lake, occupying the huge veranda while they waited for the show. They were armed with bottles of champagne and Fenrys to generate entertainment.

Aelin came out of nowhere and slung an arm around Manon's shoulders.

— I'm glad you're not too famous to talk to us. Humility is the thing I value most.

— Is it to make up for the amount you lack? — she replied.

Aelin showed her two middle fingers and turned away. She was certainly already drunk. Lysandra looked at the clock on her cell phone.

— Shut up, the countdown is going to start.

As they could hear people counting from the lake, they followed the crowd. Dorian raised his eyebrows at her when they reached "five". Manon rolled her eyes.

— How old are you?

But at midnight, she kissed him anyway.

Yrene climbed onto a chair, cell phone in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.

— Nobody moves. We haven't had a picture together for an eternity.

Manon thought about complaining, but remembered that she needed the happy small—town picture for Instagram. Lorcan took the selfie to the protest of anyone apart from Elide, Yrene and Chaol — who only didn't protest because they were polite — because his two meters of height had to be good for something. In the end, she didn't regret taking the picture. And Mor was going to love it.

Manon wanted to drag Dorian back home and spend the last day with him, but after the panic of meeting that group passed, she realized how much she had missed them. Although she obviously wasn't ever going to admit it.

Elide suddenly hugged her.

— I'm so glad you're here.

She hugged her back.

— I'm sorry for everything. And thank you for not giving up on me.

She smiled at Manon and put her arm around hers.

— That's what friends are for. But I'll let you make it up to me when I need a favor.

She didn't have a chance to reply because, at that very moment, Fenrys, Lysandra and Aelin joined hands and jumped off the balcony ledge into the nearest mount of snow.

—

January 1st

Manon slammed the trunk hard, just for old time sake. That was enough change for a single week. She had Dorian again. She was talking properly to Elide. She'd seen Yrene (who hadn't broken her face) and all the others, and had a true conversation with Glennis and Bronwen for the first time in years. And more than anything, she was free of a weight. She would never have to see her grandmother again. And she wouldn't.

— I don't think there's anything missing.

Dorian raised his hand.

— There's me.

She rolled her eyes. He pulled her over to the car and kissed Manon. She laughed, because she suddenly felt like she was in high school again, kissing Dorian in a parking lot.

— We're too old for that, princeling.

He smiled and ran his eyes over her face. The smile diminished.

— I think you need to go, then.

Without thinking, Manon leaned in again, pressing her lips to his lightly, before pulling away. She wasn't the kind of person who could say goodbye, not decently. So she wouldn't say anything. But she didn't need to, because Dorian understood. He tightened his grip on her hand and walked away, heading for the front door. Glennis and Bronwen had said goodbye to her earlier with Elide, so the three of them let her go to his house so he could say goodbye last.

Manon got into the car, this time with the promise of something other than an empty city when she arrived at the airport. She started the car, even though she could already feel part of her heart leaving. Four years ago she hadn't looked back. This time, Manon did.

And she literally saw that road, the one she didn't take. Now she was sure of what she would find if she followed it. It leaded to Dorian, in her hometown.

————————————

Did you guys get all the folklore and evermore references?

I wish I had posted this sooner, but I had never written anything so big and 10k words is a lot to review and translate 🥲

Anyway, I hope you like it, Im 100% obsessed with this song 🤌🏻

#manorian #manon blackbeak #throne of glass #dorian havilliard #sarah j maas #dorian x manon #fanfic #christmas one shots #taylor swift #evermore #folklore

65 notes · View notes

malulls · 6 months

Text

Sweet Nothings

Manorian one shot

Masterlist

Manon was almost certain that the same song was being played for the third time, but the nobility of Adarlan did not seem bothered, and for each of the almost identical melodies, there were slightly different dance steps. She didn't know exactly what she was doing there, hiding in an alcove where some of the chandeliers were conveniently dimmed. The rest she had unlit on her own, just enough to hide herself without the darkness drawing attention. There was something interesting about the scene.

The hierarchy of humans was so different from the witches', or at least from how it used to be. It was based on silliness and futility, so it was surprising to see the presence of people who clearly didn't have a single trace of nobility in their blood and didn't seem to bother pretending they did. She wasn't the only one who had noticed the citizens present in the castle. It only took a bit of searching to find men and women looking disgruntledly from the people to the king in the center of the salon.

That's where Manon had been looking at most of the evening, as had half of the ladies and peasants who were enchanted by him. As if she had nothing better to do. She knew that the presence of those people was one of the many changes he intended and would take time to realize, but the few times she had been in Adarlan, she had limited herself to her chambers or his tower, and hadn't seen much. Now she thought maybe she should see more of the city. And maybe invite Dorian to know hers.

Not that there was much to see. But she was proud of every detail, every change, the smallest it was, even when it took her too long to recognize them. The king had seemed interested in the few things he'd gotten from her when they talked for real, but they both knew he wouldn't offer to go knowing the situation they were in. Dorian would go with her and only when Manon asked. Only when she wanted to show him her kingdom.

The queen felt her brow furrow and her lips tighten involuntarily when the ninth lady of the evening bowed and began to dance with him. But who was counting? Giving up on standing there for no reason and irritated by her own irritation, she threw her red hood over her head and slipped unnoticed through the crowd too interested in the dance, the king, or themselves to notice the witch passing by faster than they could move.

After entering the empty corridors — the silence and stillness of the dark were strange after the conversations, the music, and the exaggerated lighting of the ballroom — Manon finally reached the staircase of the king's tower. It felt like some kind of invasion to enter Dorian's room without him, to see the way every corner of the room screamed a part of who he was. The smell, the piles of books strewn around, the sleeping clothes lying on the partially made-up bed.

Closing the door carefully, she entered in silent steps, as if he could hear her, and sat down in the large desk chair. A candle stub was unlit in the corner, and there was a half-open inkwell, looking as if it had been hastily left in the middle of a letter. She had the impression that she knew exactly how he sat in that place, the expression he made, the way he held his pen when he was concentrating, and the way he frowned when he was tired. Manon sat there, lost in thought, waiting for the king's inevitable footsteps on the stairs to announce he had arrived.

—

Dorian had noticed something different in the middle of the ball. One of his mother's exaggerated parties, which had been approved by his council and over which he didn't have much power despite being the damn king, but he'd managed to change it to include the people of Rifthold.

Then suddenly, between dances and boring conversations, something made him curious, a random spot in the salon that, for some reason, was dark and triggered his curiosity. He thought he was being silly, as he always did on nights he spent some time on the balcony, looking out towards the deserts and hoping she would appear. Most of the time it wasn't worth it.

However, when he finally stood at the foot of the stairs of his tower after the long night, the magic felt it. A mixture of strength, sadness, and iron that made something in his chest prickle. Inside his room, there, after what seemed like an eternity though it had only been weeks. And, since he had little or no love for life when it came to her, Dorian transformed himself into the smallest creature he could imagine and flew up the stairs.

—

— Did you intend to scare me?

At one second, Manon was standing still, staring at some book. The next she was on her feet, her iron nails around the throat from which the sentence had come and pushing him towards the wall. Pushing Dorian into the wall, she realized a moment later, as she identified the smell and the smile on his face.

— Are you stupid? — she spat the question, iron teeth still sticking out. How the hell had he just appeared there?

— I wouldn't have this opportunity again anytime soon, would I, witchling?

She limited her response to a frown, but his smile only widened. Then he put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her, but waited for the witch to retract her iron teeth before slipping his tongue into her mouth. Smart man.

Dorian didn't let go of her face when they separated, but ran his eyes all over her and the absence of the crown on her head.

— How long have you been here?

She sheathed her iron nails, and may the Three-Faced Goddess be patient, he looked disappointed.

— Since your party started.

The king let out an exhausted sigh and took off his crown to place it on the bedside table. It was beautiful, covered in rubies and details in Adarlan's colors. It suited Dorian. But that gesture always seemed to take a weight off his back.

— My mother's party. — he corrected. — But I think I was able to manipulate the situation a bit so it could be mine too. Where is Abraxos?

— I left him in the forest. He was hungry.

He loosened his cloak and began to take off his shirt with his back to her, with the biggest calm in the world. She sat on the bed, watching the muscles in his back as he pulled his clothes over his head. Dorian turned, and something in her expression made him ask.

— I'm sorry. Would you rather be doing this?

— No. — She lied.

He sat down facing her and Manon let him do the same and take off the hood she had been hiding in earlier.

— You didn't write to say you were coming. Neither did you answer my last letter. — he said, as he finished unbuttoning her blouse. — Why?

She didn't answer. She didn't always write back, and almost all the letters he had sent first. It was easier to not reply, to use lack of time and tiredness as excuses, and to let them isolate her. They both knew that. But he seemed to want her to talk anyway, even when it wasn't important. Manon hadn't known exactly what to expect when his first letter arrived in the wastes or when, on a reckless impulse, she had gone to Rifthold for the first time.

But it was not that this would become so natural, that the tensions and things they had ignored in Terrasen would seem to have been smoothed over, and that they would be able to put them aside enough to have something like that.

It wasn't perfect for either of them, nor was it the amount of indifference she expected, nor the intimacy and sincerity he wanted, but something in the middle ground that was good for both of them. At least at the moment and in the position they were in, and it may not work forever, but it was what they needed.

Manon was no longer in the dark, endless place she had been for the first few months in the Wastes, but she was still so far from feeling any kind of healing that she was sure it didn't exist, at least not one she could find.

But the queen wouldn't think about that, not there. The few moments when she felt she was truly living, that she felt confidence and, if she was being honest with herself, certainty, that she was sure of what was happening and what was going to happen, were when she was with him, during those few days of travel. When from time to time, she went away and entered the complete silence of the flight with Abraxos and was able to think. And she was sure it was the same for him, without either of them needing to speak.

Despite the time away and making it clear how much he wanted her with his eyes, Dorian calmly pulled up her blouse and took her wrist, until Manon was sitting on his lap.

— Why did you wait instead of telling me you were here?

Because she wanted to see him from afar, wanted to see what he was like when she wasn't around. If it was better than how it was for her when he wasn't close. If he seemed happier. How he dealt with the crown, with people who barely knew him and yet, demanded everything from him.

— You seemed to be having a lot of fun.

Dorian snorted, but grinned.

— Are you jealous because you didn't dance with me, witchling?

Manon ran her hand through his hair, an annoying habit she had developed and only remembered not to do once she had already done it. She ran her nails along the back of his neck to disguise — more to herself — what she had just done.

— Can you imagine me dancing?

He tilted his head toward her hand and trailed his fingertips over her waist.

—For real? Yes. — he replied, and the sincerity instead of a silly joke surprised her. And the request behind it.

— Keep imagining it. It's not going to happen.

He smiled as if he couldn't be more certain that it would, so before he could say anything, she kissed Dorian again. Without the surprise of the wall, or the anger, and unfortunately for him, without iron nails either. But, after the marks he left on her chest and collarbone, the bites she left on his neck, and when they both began to lose track of time and the rest of the world around them, he laid her down on the bed and complained about absolutely nothing.

—

Dorian watched the invisible hands play with Manon's strands of hair. It had been fun to take her by surprise, but he was sure it would never happen again — especially after almost having his throat ripped out.

The king loved those little moments and everything they could be, the routine they could become, if she were there every day. But she wasn't, and even if, for some impossible reason, she accepted or proposed an alliance between the two kingdoms again, she still wouldn't be. But he could deal with that, he was as busy as she was. He could hope — even if he had nothing to hope for — that her kingdom would be stabilized again, that his would be, that she would go through her grief, that his nightmares would disappear.

— You're thinking too much. — Manon said, turning to face him or leaning into the hands that stroked her hair, he didn't know.

— How do you know that?

— You've been staring at me for two minutes and done nothing about it.

He chuckled, then moved his hand to the base of her back to bring her body closer to his. He would never tire of kissing Manon. And from her satisfied sigh, the witch thought the same. When they separated, she frowned and sat down on the bed, to his disadvantage, barely pulling the covers over her.

— What's going on?

He propped himself on his elbow to look at her. Now it was she who was thinking too much, because her face stiffened before turning back to its normal seriousness.

— There is a Crochan celebration next month. We're trying to make it happen for the whole kingdom.

He sat down next to her when he heard the subject. He tried to disguise his interest, but it didn't really work. She turned her face towards him with the same steady expression, but pulling the sheet a little tighter.

— Would you be there?

He didn't bother to hide his surprise. He'd been expecting an invitation to her kingdom since the first time she had shown up, and he wasn't waiting for one now, least of all for a witches' holiday.

— Should I? Isn't it your people's festivity?

— Ansel is going too. It was an invitation as a peace offering and a thank you for doing no more than her duty and returning our lands. — he chuckled. If Aelin's friend heard that, Manon would surely be in another fight. At least he could hope without guilt that the witch would win. — And of course, my council is setting a trap to force you to make some deals.

Dorian almost laughed. It was so easy to forget that they were something more than themselves, that there she was, spreading as a joke something that other people would consider a State secret. At least it was nice to realize how much the two of them trusted each other.

— Do you want me to go?

— I'm inviting you.

— Then yes? — She rolled her eyes, but he took her hand. — Of course I'll go. But only if your trap means an excuse for you to show up more often.

She grumbled, but there was a tiny smile hidden there. Dorian slipped an arm around her waist and pulled them closer until she was leaning against his chest, and most importantly, she let him.

— I'm going to ask for breakfast. — he murmured into her hair.

— You like to create gossip, don't you?

Yes.

— Nobody knows you're here. And I don't have to explain myself to anyone.

— What about when I show up at the castle later or Abraxos comes looking for me?

— I don't see what one thing has to do with the other.

They were already partially dressed and in the middle of breakfast in a comfortable silence when a golden spot invaded the bed, climbing with difficulty and then stopping at the end, looking at them both and wagging its tail.

— I didn't think food could bring you out of your hibernation.

Manon grimaced.

— Where did that thing come from?

— Somewhere in that room where she was hiding my old clothes and shoes that she stole.

— That creature? Of that size?

— Wait until she realizes where the food is.

The dog started to sniff in the direction of the tray in the middle of the bed. Dorian made a whistling noise with his mouth.

— And what is she doing here?

— She was born too small, and would die in the cold outside. So I'm leaving her with me until she's big enough to stay with the others.

Manon looked at him as if she knew that the next time she came back, the puppy would still be there. Deciding to plead, the dog rested her front paws on the witch's thigh and wagged her tail faster.

— She's trying to convince you to feed her.

— It is more probably she will convince me to use her to feed Abraxos.

His eyes widened.

— That's the meanest thing I've ever heard coming from your mouth. — he used his invisible hands to lift the puppy and leave her safely away from the witch, back on the ground. — I promise I'll find you something to eat.

She whimpered, upset, and went back to the dressing room.

— She has a personality. — Manon said, before stealing the last vanilla cake that Dorian had put on his plate.

He thought about complaining, but after she shoveled half of it into her mouth and filled the corners of her lips with sugar, he just looked at her and smiled. His life was a mess, and the world could be ending, but the strongest witch of Erilea was in his bed with her cheeks covered in sugar.

Dorian kept those sweet nothings as if they were a collection, small things that were easy to forget and might mean nothing, but which he noticed, and left him with an involuntary smile on his face when they suddenly appeared in his mind. It was something to remember afterward, to hold on to no matter how it ended.

If it ended.

#manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #sarah j maas #dorian x manon #writing #fanfic #one shot #fluffy

47 notes · View notes