#manon kin

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 55-56

Chapter; Highlights, Notes, Tags, etc.

The Thirteen were on edge. They hadn't yet decided where to go. And hadn't been invited to travel with the Crochans to any of their home-hearths. Even Glennis's.

None of them, however, had looked his way when they'd prowled past. None had recognized him.

Dorian had just completed another walking circuit in his little training area when Manon stalked by, silver hair flowing. He paused, no more than a wary Crochan sentinel, and watched her storm through snow and mud as if she were a blade through the world.

Manon had nearly passed his training area when she went rigid.

Slowly, she turned, nostrils flaring.

Those golden eyes swept over him, swift and cutting. Her brows twitched toward each other. Dorian only gave her a lazy grin in return.

Then she prowled toward him.

Another assessing stare. "I would have thought you'd pick a prettier form."

He frowned down at himself. "I think she's pretty enough."

Manon's mouth tightened. "I suppose this means you're about to go to Morath."

"Did I say anything of the sort?" He didn't bother sounding pleasant.

Manon took a step toward him, her teeth flashing. In this body, he stood shorter than her. He hated the thrill that shot through his blood as she leaned down to growl at him. "We have enough to deal with today, princeling."

"Do l look as if I'm standing in your way?" She opened her mouth, then shut it.

Dorian let out a low laugh and made to turn away. An iron-tipped hand gripped his arm.

Strange, for that hand to feel large on his body. Large, and not the slender, deadly thing he'd become accustomed to.

Her golden eyes blazed. "If you want a softhearted woman who will weep over hard choices and ultimately balk from them, then you're in the wrong bed."

"I'm not in anyone's bed right now." He hadn't gone to her tent any of these nights. Not since that conversation in Eyllwe.

She took the retort without so much as a flinch. "Your opinion doesn't matter to me."

"Then why are you standing here?"

Again, she opened and closed her mouth. Then snarled, "Change out of that form." Dorian smiled again. "Don't you have better things to do right now, Your Majesty?" He honestly thought she might unsheathe those iron teeth and rip out his throat.

Half of him wanted her to try. He even went so far as to run one of those phantom hands along her jaw.

"You think I don't know why you don't want me to go to Morath?"

"Tell me to stay," he said, and the words had no warmth, no kindness. "Tell me to stay with you, if that's what you want." His invisible fingers grew talons and scraped over her skin. Manon's throat bobbed. "But you won't say that, will you, Manon?" Her breathing turned jagged. He continued to stroke her neck, her jaw, her throat, caressing skin he'd tasted over and over. "Do you know why?"

"Because while you might be older, might be deadly in a thousand different ways, deep down, you're afraid. You don't know how to ask me to stay, because you're afraid of admitting to yourself that you want it. You're afraid. Of yourself more than anyone else in the world. You're afraid." For several heartbeats, she just stared at him.

Then she snarled, "You don't know what you're talking about," and stalked away.

His low laugh ripped after her. Her spine stiffened. But Manon did not turn back.

Afraid. Of admitting that she felt any sort of attachment.

It was preposterous.

And it was, perhaps, true.

But it was not her problem. Not right now.

Manon stormed through the readying camp where tents were being taken down and folded, hearths being packed. The Thirteen were with the wyverns, supplies stowed in saddlebags.

Some of the Crochans had frowned her way. Not with anger, but something like disappointment.

Discontent. As if they thought parting ways was a poor idea.

Manon refrained from saying she agreed.

Even if the Thirteen followed, the Crochans would find a way to lose them. Use their power to bind the wyverns long enough to disappear.

And she would not lower herself, lower the Thirteen, to become dogs chasing after their masters. They might be desperate for aid, might have promised it to their allies, but she would not debase herself any further.

Manon halted at Glennis's camp, the only hearth with a fire still burning. A fire that would always remain kindled.

A reminder of the promise she'd made to honor the Queen of Terrasen. A single, solitary flame against the cold.

Manon rubbed at her face as she slumped onto one of the rocks lining the hearth. A hand rested on her shoulder, warm and slight. She didn't bother to slap it away.

Glennis said, "We're departing in a few minutes. I thought l'd say good-bye."

Manon peered up at the ancient witch. "Fly well." It was really all there was left to say.

Manon's failure was not due to Glennis, not due to anyone but herself, she supposed.

You're afraid.

It was true. She had tried, but not really tried to win the Crochans. To let them see any part of her that meant something. To let them see what it had done to her, to learn she had a sister and that she had killed her. She didn't know how, and had never bothered to learn.

You're afraid.

Yes, she was. Of everything.

Glennis lowered her hand from Manon's shoulder.

"May your path carry you safely through war and back home at last."

She didn't feel like telling the crone there was no home for her, or the Thirteen.

Glennis turned her face toward the sky, sighing once. Then her white brows narrowed. Her nostrils flared. Manon leapt to her feet.

"Run," Glennis breathed. "Run now."

Manon drew Wind-Cleaver and did no such thing. "What is it?"

"They're here." How Glennis had scented them on the wind, Manon didn't care.

Not as three wyverns broke from the clouds, spearing for their camp.

She knew those wyverns, almost as well as she knew the three riders who sent the Crochans into a frenzy of motion.

The Matrons of the Ironteeth Witch-Clans had found them. And come to finish what Manon had started that day in Morath.

The three High Witches had come alone.

Rushing steps crunched through the icy snow, halting at Manon's side just as Dorian's scent wrapped around her. "Is that—"

"Yes," she said quietly, heart thundering as the Matrons dismounted and did not raise their hands in request for parley. No, they only stalked closer to the hearth, to the precious flame still burning. "Don't engage," Manon warned him and the others, and strode to meet them.

It was not the king's battle, no matter what power dwelled in his veins.

Glennis was already armed, an ancient sword in her withered hands. The woman was as old as the Yellowlegs Matron, yet she stood tall, facing the three High Witches.

Cresseida Blueblood spoke first, her eyes as cold as the iron-spiked crown digging into her freckled brow. "It has been an age, Glennis." But Glennis's stare, Manon realized, was not on the Blueblood Matron. Or even on Manon's own grandmother, her black robes billowing as she sneered at Manon.

It was on the Yellowlegs Matron, hunched and hateful between them. On the crown of stars atop the crone's thinned white hair.

Glennis's sword shook slightly. And just as Manon realized what the Matron had worn here,

Bronwen appeared at Glennis's side and breathed, "Rhiannon's crown."

Worn by the Yellowlegs Matron to mock these witches. To spit on them.

A dull roaring began in Manon's ears.

"What company you keep these days, granddaughter," said Manon's grandmother, her silver-streaked dark hair braided back from her face. A sign enough of their intentions, if her grandmother's hair was in that plait. Battle. Annihilation.

The weight of the three High Witches' attention pressed upon her. The Crochans gathered behind her shifted as they waited for her response.

Yet it was Glennis who snarled, in a voice Manon had not yet heard, "What is it that you want?"

Manon's grandmother smiled, revealing rust-flecked iron teeth. The true sign of her age. "You made a grave error, Manon Kin-Slayer, when you sought to turn our forces against us. When you sowed such lies amongst our sentinels regarding our plans— my plans."

Manon kept her chin high. "I spoke only truth. And it must have frightened you enough that you gathered these two to hunt me down and prove your innocence in scheming against them."

The other two Matrons didn't so much as blink. Her grandmother's claws had to have sunk deep, then. Or they simply did not care.

"We came," Cresseida seethed, the opposite in so many ways of the daughter who had given Manon the chance to speak, "to at last rid us of a thorn in our sides."

Had Petrah been punished for letting Manon walk out of the Omega alive? Did the Blueblood Heir still breathe? Cresseida had once screamed in a mother's terror and pain when Petrah had nearly plunged to her death.

Did that love, so foreign and strange, still hold true? Or had duty and ancient hatred won out?

The thought was enough to steel Manon's spine. "You came because we pose a threat."

Because of the threat you pose to that monster you call grandmother.

"You came," Manon went on, Wind-Cleaver rising a fraction, "because you are afraid."

Manon took a step beyond Glennis, her sword lifting farther.

"You came," Manon said, "because you have no true power beyond what we give you.

And you are scared to death that we're about to take it away." Manon flipped Wind-Cleaver in her hand, angling the sword downward, and drew a line in the snow between them. "You came alone for that fear. That others might see what we are capable of. The truth that you have always sought to hide."

Her grandmother tutted. "Listen to you. Sounding just like a Crochan with that preachy nonsense."

Manon ignored her. Ignored her and pointed Wind-Cleaver directly at the Yellowlegs Matron as she snarled, "That is not your crown."

Something like hesitation rippled over Cresseida Blueblood's face. But the Yellowlegs Matron beckoned to Manon with iron nails so long they curved downward. "Then come and fetch it from me, traitor."

Manon stepped beyond the line she'd drawn in the snow.

No one spoke behind her. She wondered if any of them were breathing.

She had not won against her grandmother. Had barely survived, and only thanks to luck. That fight, she had been ready to meet her end. To say farewell.

Manon angled Wind-Cleaver upward, her heart a steady, raging beat.

She would not greet the Darkness's embrace today. But they would.

"This seems familiar," her grandmother drawled, legs shifting into attacking position.

The other two Matrons did the same. "The last Crochan Queen. Holding the line against us." Manon cracked her jaw, and iron teeth descended. A flex of her fingers had her iron nails unsheathing. "Not just a Crochan Queen this time."

There was doubt in Cresseida's blue eyes.

As if she'd realized what the other two Matrons had not.

There—it was there that Manon would strike first. The one who now wondered if they had somehow made a grave mistake in coming here.

A mistake that would cost them what they had come to protect.

A mistake that would cost them this war.

And their lives.

For Cresseida saw the steadiness of Manon's breathing. Saw the clear conviction in her eyes. Saw the lack of fear in her heart as Manon advanced another step.

Manon smiled at the Blueblood Matron as if to say yes.

"You did not kill me then," Manon said to her grandmother. "I do not think you will be able to now."

"We'll see about that," her grandmother hissed, and charged.

Manon was ready.

An upward swing of Wind-Cleaver met her grandmother's first two blows, and Manon ducked the third. Turning right into the onslaught of the Yellowlegs Matron, who swept up with unnatural speed, feet almost flying over the snow, and slashed for Manon's exposed back.

Manon deflected the crone's assault, sending the witch darting back. Just as Cresseida launched herself at Manon. Cresseida was not a trained fighter. Not as the Blackbeak and Yellowlegs Matrons were. Too many years spent reading entrails and scanning the stars for the answers to the Three-Faced Goddess's riddles.

A duck to the left had Manon easily evading the sweep of Cresseida's nails, and a countermove had Manon driving her elbow into the Blueblood Matron's nose.

Cresseida stumbled. The Yellowlegs Matron and her grandmother attacked again. So fast. Their three assaults had happened in the span of a few blinks. Manon kept her feet under her. Saw where one Matron moved and the other left a dangerous gap exposed.

She was not a broken-spirited Wing Leader unsure of her place in the world.

She was not ashamed of the truth before her.

She was not afraid.

Manon's grandmother led the attack, her maneuvers the deadliest. It was from her that the first slice of pain appeared. A rip of iron nails through Manon's shoulder. But Manon swung her sword, again and again, iron on steel ringing out across the icy peaks.

No, she was not afraid at all.

Around him, the Crochans thrummed with fear and dread. Either for the fight unfolding or the three Matrons who had found them.

But Glennis did not tremble. At her side Bronwen hummed with the energy of one eager to leap into the fight.

Manon and the High Witches sprang apart, breathing heavily. Blue blood leaked down Manon's shoulder, and small slices peppered the three Matrons.

Manon still remained on the far side of the line she'd drawn. Still held it.

The dark-haired witch in voluminous black robes spat blue blood onto the snow. Manon's grandmother. "Pathetic. As pathetic as your mother." A sneer toward Glennis. "And your father."

The snarl that ripped from Manon's throat rang across the mountains themselves.

Her grandmother let out a crow's caw of a laugh. "Is that all you can do, then? Snarl like a dog and swing your sword like some human filth? We will wear you down eventually. Better to kneel now and die with some honor intact." Manon only flung out an iron-tipped hand behind her, fingers splaying in demand as her eyes remained fixed on the Matrons.

Dorian reached for Damaris, but Bronwen moved first.

The Crochan tossed her sword, steel flashing over snow and sun.

Manon's fingers closed on the hilt, the blade singing as she whipped it around to face the High Witches again. "Rhiannon Crochan held the gates for three days and three nights, and she did not kneel before you, even at the end." A slash of a smile. "I think I shall do the same." Dorian could have sworn the sacred flame burning to their left flared brighter. Could have sworn Glennis sucked in a breath. That every Crochan watching did the same.

Manon's knees bent, swords rising. "Let us finish what was started then, too." She attacked, blades flashing.

Her grandmother conceded step after step, the other two Matrons failing to break past her defenses.

Gone was the witch who had slept and wished for death. Gone was the witch who had raged at the truth that had torn her to shreds.

And in her place, fighting as if she were the very wind, unfaltering against the Matrons, stood someone Dorian had not yet met.

Stood a queen of two peoples.

Yielding only those few steps, and nothing more.

Because Manon with conviction in her heart, with utter fearlessness in her eyes, was wholly unstoppable.

The other two witches had fallen back, as if waiting to see what might happen.

But she yielded no further ground. A wall against which the Yellowlegs Matron could not advance. The crone let out a snarl, attacking again and again, senseless and raging.

Dorian saw the trap the moment it happened.

No one seemed to breathe at all as Manon plunged Bronwen's sword into the icy earth beneath and bent to take the crown of stars from the Yellowlegs witch's fallen head.

He had never seen a crown like it.

A living, glowing thing that glittered in her hand. As if nine stars had been plucked from the heavens and set to shine along the simple silver band.

The crown's light danced over Manon's face as she lifted it above her head and set it upon her unbound white hair.

Even the mountain wind stopped.

Yet a phantom breeze shifted the strands of Manon's hair as the crown glowed bright, the white stars shining with cores of cobalt and ruby and amethyst.

As if it had been asleep for a long, long time. And now awoke.

That phantom wind pulled Manon's hair to the side, silver strands brushing across her face.

And beside him, around him, the Thirteen touched two fingers to their brow in deference.

In allegiance to the queen who stared down the two remaining High Witches.

The Crochan Queen, crowned anew.

The sacred fire leaped and danced, as if in joyous welcome.

"Go."

The Blueblood witch blinked, eyes wide with what could only be fear and dread.

Manon jerked her chin toward the wyvern waiting behind the witch. "Tell your daughter all debts between us are paid. And she may decide what to do with you. Take that other wyvern out of here."

Spared by the Crochan Queen on behalf of the daughter who had given Manon the gift of speaking to the Ironteeth.

Within seconds, the Blueblood Matron was in the skies, the Yellowlegs witch's wyvern soaring beside her.

Leaving Manon's grandmother alone.

Leaving Manon with swords raised and a crown of stars glowing upon her brow.

Manon was glowing, as if the stars atop her head pulsed through her body. A wondrous and mighty beauty, like no other in the world. Like no one had ever been, or would be again.

And slowly, as if savoring each step, Manon stalked toward her grandmother.

Warm, dancing light flowed through her, as unfaltering as what had poured into her heart these past few bloody minutes.

She did not balk. Did not fear.

The crown's weight was slight, like it had been crafted of moonlight. Yet its joyous strength was a song, undimming before the sole High Witch left standing.

So Manon kept walking.

She left Bronwen's sword a few feet away.

Left Wind-Cleaver several feet past that.

Iron nails out, teeth ready, Manon paused barely five steps from her grandmother.

A hateful, wasted scrap of existence. That's what her grandmother was.

She had never realized how much shorter the Matron stood. How narrow her shoulders were, or how the years of rage and hate had withered her.

Manon's smile grew. And she could have sworn she felt two people standing at her shoulder.

She knew no one would be there if she looked. Knew no one else could see them, sense them, standing with her. Standing with their daughter against the witch who had destroyed them.

Her grandmother spat on the ground, baring her rusted teeth.

This death, though ...

It was not her death to claim.

It did not belong to the parents whose spirits lingered at her side, who might have been there all along, leading her toward this. Who had not left her, even with death separating them.

No, it did not belong to them, either.

She looked behind her. Toward the Second waiting beside Dorian.

Tears slid down Asterin's face. Of pride- pride and relief.

Manon beckoned to Asterin with an iron- tipped hand.

Manon raised a hand. "Let her go."

When there was no trace of the Matrons left but blue blood and a headless corpse staining the snow, Manon turned toward the Crochans.

Their eyes were wide, but they made no move.

The Thirteen remained where they were, Dorian with them.

Manon scooped up both swords, sheathing Wind-Cleaver across her back, and stalked toward where Glennis and Bronwen stood, monitoring her every breath.

Wordlessly, Manon handed Bronwen her sword, nodding in thanks.

Then she removed the crown of stars and extended it toward Glennis. "This belongs to you," she said, her voice low.

The Crochans murmured, shifting.

Glennis took the crown, and the stars dimmed. A small smile graced the crone's face.

"No," she said, "it does not."

Manon didn't move as Glennis lifted the crown and set it again on Manon's head.

Then the ancient witch knelt in the snow.

"What was stolen has been restored; what was lost has come home again. I hail thee, Manon Crochan, Queen of Witches."

Manon stood fast against the tremor that threatened to buckle her legs.

Stood fast as the other Crochans, Bronwen with them, dropped to a knee. Dorian, standing amongst them, smiled, brighter and freer than she'd ever seen.

And then the Thirteen knelt, two fingers going to their brows as they bowed their heads, fierce pride lighting their faces.

"Queen of Witches," Crochan and Blackbeak declared as one voice.

As one people.

[pergaminaa]

Manon saw herself in some of the other characters and I believe this is why she was instantly on their side. Because out of everyone, she saw the real ones trapped inside.

Elide: in Morath, she was no more than a crippled maid, literally chained up and bound in servitude. Manon was the only one who saw her for who she is: first as an asset, then later on as a friend/kin.

Dorian: like Elide, he was bound by a collar and possessed by valg. Again, Manon was the only one who ‘saw’ and connected with the real Dorian (hence her message to Aelin). Again, not even his friends saw that he could be saved, but Manon did. She knew he was still inside, still fighting and it’s why she aided in bringing him back from the valg’s control.

Abraxos: The small chained and beaten wyvern. The bait that was merely there for show. Manon was the only witch who even considered him as a potential companion because everyone was going for the biggest and strongest beast. But not her. She saw a fierce fighter in Abraxos, one she knew was there and she put her trust in.

All these three were equally abused and bound, for the whole world to see. She is just the same however her abuse and ‘chains’ are invisible and no one could see them. It is the reason why she instantly knew what was up with all three. They were a reflection of herself. While she knew no one would rescue her, she rescued all three because she knows what it’s like. She knows what it feels like.

What her grandmother does to her is always done in private, so no one really knows the extent of that abuse. Besides, the matron would not hesitate to kill anyone who tries anything so that’s that. Manon knows that there is no saving her. Which is why, it’s best to try and do as her grandmother wants even if she personally doesn’t agree with it. In Queen of Shadows, Manon spent the whole time trying not to agree to that madness but she couldn’t do much because she kept thinking of her grandmother’s reaction if she knew that she’s defying orders. She literally told Sorrel that she can only ‘tug on the leash’ like— she literally felt that she was in chains having no other option but to obey her grandmother’s absurd orders. She knows what the price would be, the lives of her coven is at stake and she will do whatever she can to ensure they are safe from her grandmother.

Which brings me to Kingdom of Ash because it was Asterin who saw Manon’s invisible chains all along. Her decision was to free Manon, to allow her to finally live free and without fear. Her line ‘live, Manon,’ was not only literal but figurative as well. She knows that her cousin is drowning, she never did anything for herself; having lived her life trying to appease her grandmother while keeping her coven safe. She never expressed her own opinions or needs and Asterin decided that it will all end now. Aelin promised them a better world, she she will start by ensuing that Manon can live for herself without fear or looming abuse. Asterin was going to break the ‘chains’ shackled around Manon and giving her the same freedom she gave to Elide, Dorian and Abraxos.

And it is why she has formed deep connections with those three despite meeting them later on in her life. It’s some kind of a soul/spiritual bond that only they can feel because they have all experienced the same thing.

[pinkpawpads]

Can we have a dealer choice/creators choice?

Yes , Because we're extra bored today you're getting a LOT . Hehe : 3

( HHC / Vimto )

Name ; Silvie / Sylva / Silvert / Silly

Pronouns ; They / Shx / Shxm / It / Cloud / Hiss / Cold / Scale

Gender ; Explosiongender , :3voidic , Spawnpointic , Sketchgender , Crypticcoric , Bitian , Starfleshcattic , Snakeboy

Sexuality ; Aroace , Queerplatonic

Age ; 3800 , Bodily 35

Role ; Historian , Internal Self Helper

Conditions / Disabilities ; Blurry vision , Light sensitivity

Source ; The Basilisk - Mythology

Faceclaim ;

Name ; Manon

Pronouns ; They / He / All / Sand / Dust / Time / Galactic

Gender ; Immortalgender , Starobservic , Obscurgodgender

Sexuality ; Sapphic , Demiromantic

Age ; Old as the earth ( 4 . 543 Billion Years )

Role ; Spiritual Protector

Conditions / Disabilities ; Lucid dreamer , Maladaptive Daydreaming , ASPD

Source ; The Craft

Faceclaim ;

Name ; Mowl / Kit / Saul

Pronouns ; He / Who / Owl / Feather / Whisker

Gender ; Aroacecatgender , Sillycatboygender , Regretakittyic , Demiboy

Sexuality ; Aroace

Age ; 21

Role ; Lawyer , Academic , Verbal Protector

Conditions / Disabilities ; Non human , Sensory Issues , Autism

Source ; None but kins Saul from BRBA + Better Call Saul

Faceclaim ;

Name ; Cherrub / Charlie / Cam

Pronouns ; He / They / It / Love / Cupid

Gender ; Demiboy , Cupidgender , Lovelettercoric , Needyloverboy

Sexuality ; Homosexual , Demiromantic , Demisexual

Age ; 17

Role ; Symptom holder ( Impulsive )

Conditions / Disabilities ; Lobotomy , Autism , ASPD

Source ; Yandere Simulator

Faceclaim ;

Name ; Sophie / Sappho / Cos

Pronouns ; She / Test / They / Shxm

Gender ; Nonbinary , Vtuberic , Seasoundic , Madscientistcattic , Plasmagender , Remnantgender

Sexuality ; Asexual , Bisexual

Age ; 16

Role ; Memory Handler , Autism holder , Spin holder

Conditions / Disabilities ; Autism , ADHD , POTS , Obsessive

Source ; Repo! The genetic opera

Faceclaim ;

Name ; Karry / Kenn

Pronouns ; It / Punk / Menace / Mystic / Hx / Hxm

Gender ; Wolfpunkic , Nimonacharic , Rebelpunkpinkic , Femascpunk

Sexuality ; Aroace

Age ; 42

Role ; Symptom Holder , Songitive , Aggressor

Conditions / Disabilities ; Mood Disorder , ASPD , Alcoholism

Source ; Kunst - KMFDM , Kins Nimona

Faceclaim ;

Name ; Kora / Sin / Kos

Pronouns ; It / Thing / Being / Glitch / Leak

Gender ; Missingsourcegender , Glitch404gender , Genderless / Gendervoid

Sexuality ; Aroace

Age ; 13

Role ; Floater , Deniagenic , Perceptionalist , Ex-Host

Conditions / Disabilities ; Dissociation , Autism , Chronic Dizziness

Source ; DDLC ( Specifically Sayori after she got deleted )

Faceclaim ;

[oakthcrn-a]

❝ 𝑨 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑰𝑺 𝑨 𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑷𝑬𝑶𝑷𝑳𝑬, 𝑰𝑻 𝑰𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑨𝒀 ' 𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫. ❞

An original verse set in original lore. This will be Lark's main verse. Loved and crafted by Jackie.

Humans and the fae are both children of the Elvine. The Elvine were the stewards of the star known as Hiraeth. The Fae were the first children and were made from shards of the Star Ocean.

They were taught from their conception that they would be the new stewards and the Elvine would return to the Star Ocean....

Humans were created from the terrain and forged by powerful magic and yet they could not wield magic as their elder kin could.

Together, humans and the Fae worked together to cultivate the land and over the course of eons, several kingdoms were built. The two largest were the Kingdom of Manon - the land of Autumn and the Holy Amaelian Empire, where the Holy See of Valencia governs the empire.For thousands of years, there was peace between the two nations, and they aided each other in trade and commerce. However, with the advent of a new Arch Pope, came an extremist group with anti-fae sentiments and soon people began to fear their brethren. Eventually, the Amaelian Empire stopped being friendly with their Fae neighbors all together.

Tensions grew and grew until the humans feared and hated the fae for their gifts deemed them unnatural, and became openly hostile towards anyone with Faeblood. Many fae within the Amaelian Empire fled to Manon for their safety as several witch hunts had put the Faeblooded citizens in danger. Those who didn't flee became second-class citizens and indentured servants.

There had been so much fighting between the humans and Fae, that it caught the attention of one of the Elvine. Caelus, the god of fire, the day, and the sun. He attempted to broker peace between the two nations, and at his behest, the Fae reached out to bring peace to the two nations.

The King of Manon, Mulicfer Oakthorn II arranged a meeting at the borders of their kingdoms, and with Caelus in tow, they met the Arch Pope for peace talks. However, it had been a trap. The Arch Pope brought an army with the intent of slaughtering the King of Manon, and a bloody battle ensued.

The Fae army had arrived and aided their king and Caelus to beat back the humans, and when victory was nigh, the Arch Pope summoned forbidden magic which he had gotten from the trickster god named Sike. It was such a formidable and potent magic that is caused a schism between Hiraeth and Elvine. Caelus had simply disappeared, never to be seen.

The result of using such magic was an ever-evolving curse. A blighted scourge upon the battlefield between kingdoms. This would be known in the modern day as the Forest of Umbra because from the shroud of shadow sprouted a black crooked forest that was cursed. Those who fought in the battle were lost within it, and eventually, their souls were sucked from them and leaving husks--wandering blighted people with blood lust.

King Mulifer Oakthorn II were lost to the Forest of Umbra, and his daughter took the throne and started the long line of Queendom. She created a powerful ward in which only those with faeblood could pass through.

A few hundred years later, the new Arch-pope wished to reconcile with the Kingdom of Manon, and though to the face, it was a blink of an eye compared to the incredibly long lives they lived. Queen Roselyn Oakthorn was incredulous and for a long time, she ignored the offers of peace. However, to ease the anti-fae sentiment in the Amaelian citizens, she agreed to at least speak with the Holy See.

The peace talks were long and didn't do much to sway either side, however, in the name of peace, both sides agreed that every hundred years, the Queen of Manon would take a bride or groom in exchange for a bountiful dowry in which Manon would send rare resources to Amael, and Amael would trade very rare gemstones which are important to the fae.

The arrangement was purely political and the human that married the Queen would become the Queen Consort, a fancy title that held no real power. The Queen has the power to drop the wards on a specific year, on a specific day with a specific ritual, and it isn't the whole ward, but a fraction of it. Now in the modern day, Queen Larkspur Oakthorn has reigned for hundreds of years and has held up tradition by continuing to marry humans. Never has she ever felt love for any of them, not true love, while she treats her spouse well, and they are taken care of, she has never shared a bed with any of her spouses. For her, it is purely a political alliance, and she is focused on curing the Scourge.

[morally-grey-girlbosses]

Propaganda under the cut.

Maeby Funke

Well she has pretended to be an old woman to get free accomedation in an old folks home, developed a company her cousin made up and that doesn't ecist before selling it for 3 million dollars to her uncle, faked having a dying twin to get money and about 50 othet illegal but really cool things.

Manon Blackbeak

She's a witch, and she's got some great nicknames such as White Demon, Manon Witch Killer, Manon Kin Slayer. In her defense on the Kin Slayer her family was kinda shit. She rides a wyvern (they are besties) She's also Queen of the witches.

[inlovewithquotes]

"As your mother laborer to push you out, she confessed who your father was. She said you...you would be the one who broke the curse, who saved us. She said your father was a rare-born Crochan Prince. And she said that your mixed blood would be the key." Her grandmother lifted her nails to her mouth and licked off Manon's blue blood.

No.

No.

"So you have been a Kin Slayer your whole life," her grandmother purred. "Hunting down those Crochans--your relatives. When you were a witchling, your father searched the lands for you. He never stopped loving your mother. Loving her," she spat. "And loving you. So I killed him."

Manon gazed at the drop below, the death that beckoned.

"His despair was delicious when I told him what I'd done to her. What I would make you into. Not a child of peace--but war."

-Empire Of Storms

[throneofsapphics]

Omg please could we have a part 2 of think for yourself? I’m so desperate to know what happens !

you did learn 

(part one)

Manon x Reader x Asterin 

Summary: Manon took a few steps towards you, and you watched carefully - not sure if she would try and slit your throat. Instead, she closed the space and pulled you to her chest, your arms wrapped around her, squeezing back lightly. 

Word Count: ~1.4k 

Warnings: maybe angst, some fluff, reunions  

A/N: thank you so much for requesting it ! 

You cried the first few days. Leaving them, Gods it hurt - felt like it was ripping part of your soul. Asterin knew it would happen. You could tell - based on how close she held you that night. But, if they were going to fight for your enemy, the one who caused the deaths of your family and dear ones, you couldn’t stay. As much as you loved them, your family meant, means, everything to you. There had to be living Fae out there. Or someone willing to fight against him, otherwise he wouldn’t be raising an army. You lost track of time as you stumbled through the mountains, shifting into your animal form - a fox - for warmth and food. Days turned into weeks - or months - you barely risked going into any towns, only following the Lord of the North, and hoping you’d find the right people. 

You heard the flapping of wings, and thought the end had finally come. 

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.” You said through gritted teeth. When you saw her, you froze, mouth open in shock. She landed next to you, the rest of the thirteen, except Manon, behind her. Their Wyverns were huge, and you realized just how much of an enemy you were up against, that the Queen of Terrasen would be up against. You knew the golden hair - the witch with the band across her head - you’d spotted her in the skies. 

“We’re on the same side now.” Her voice was soft, soft enough the others looked at her with some surprise. 

You could tell she wasn’t lying. Asterin never would lie about that. You searched the faces behind you, looking for one … 

“We … we don’t know if she’s alive.” Asterin said with a tight face. Apparently they’d been searching for Manon, relentlessly, and somehow had stumbled across you - still trying to find your way back to any surviving Fae. 

“You knew I’d leave,” you whispered, and she nodded, striding the last few feet between you and pulling you into a tight hug. She introduced you to the rest of the thirteen, to her Wyvern, who tilted her head at you watching as you held your breath, before letting out what you thought was a noise of amusement. You had the night together, before they left to search for Manon again. Instinct, the small voice that had always guided you, told you it would be the last. 

-

As soon as you saw her in the skies, you knew Asterin was gone. They wouldn’t be fighting apart from each other. The rest of the thirteen were gone as well. There wasn’t time to think about it, not now, not as you ran into battle with the rest of the Fae you’d found. Or who had found you, as you made your way through the stag horns all of those months ago, following your instincts. Instead, you focused on your revenge. Against the yellow legs who’d hunted your kin stuck in animal form. To your internal shame, It took a few days before you built up the courage to approach her, finding her in the aerie with her Wyvern. 

“So you did learn to think for yourself.” Of all the words you could’ve said - that’s what came out first. 

Manon took a few steps towards you, and you watched carefully - not sure if she would try and slit your throat. Instead, she closed the space and pulled you to her chest, your arms wrapped around her, squeezing back lightly. 

You’d hugged Manon once before. She leaned into your embrace, squeezed tightly, before separating, telling you “that was nice, never do it again.” 

“Asterin,” Manon's voice choked, “told me.” 

You scribbled on the last piece of paper you had, and handed it to Asterin, telling her to give it to Manon if she found her again. 

“I’m proud of you.”

Your eyes teared. 

“Don’t cry.” Manon’s voice was sharp again, and you laughed even as the tears streamed down your face. 

-

Manon didn’t expect to see y/n alive again, not after what Asterin told her she was doing. ‘I’m proud of you,’ she wasn’t sure anyone had said those words to her before. Her face had remained cold as stone when she read it, but the rest of the thirteen noted how she tucked it deep into a pocket. This note, she would keep as long as she could. 

She pulled the paper out, now rumpled and barely legible, but handed it to her, watching how her eyes lit up, how those soft lips parted. “You kept it,” her voice was full of awe. 

“Yes,” Manon’s eyes raked over her, taking in the black smudges under her eyes, the haggardness and fatigue. 

“What will you do now?” Y/n asked hesitantly, so Manon told her everything. The Crochan’s, the western wastes, how she’d go home - bring her people home. The dream she’d had all of this years, the one goal she’d been set on. 

-

Manon, her former lover, now a Queen. A Crochan and Ironteeth Queen. Something was different about her scent, something you vaguely recognized, from someone you’d met in passing … the King of Adarlan. 

“So. Dorian Havilliard - The King of Adarlan?” Manon froze with immortal stillness, but took in the amused smile on your face and relaxed slightly. You weren’t jealous, you’d never been that type. They seemed to be equals, would be equals. “I’m messing with you, you leaned over and nudged her with your shoulder.

You shared the night together, wrapped in each other's arms for one last time. A week or so later, she set out to bring her people home, and you set to rebuild in Orynth, reunited with your surviving family.  

-

After two years in Orynth, you felt the call to return back to your home. The one nestled in the Ruhn mountains. You explained to your family how you’d lived there - how it had been your home. Become your home over the years. They understood your choice - in a way, but were reluctant to let you go, but promised to visit you - as long as you did the same. 

With your animal form, and a map, it became a lot easier to navigate your way home, back to the cabin. 

Outside, you saw a Wyvern, flopped on its belly, nose nestled in the wildflowers you planted so long ago. Abraxos. Abraxos was here, meaning … 

A White haired witch came around from the other side, her eyes as wide as yours, before something like a smile crept on her face. “I heard you left Orynth.” 

You sobbed and ran right for her, throwing yourself in her arms. Still stiff and awkward, but she ran comforting strokes up and down your back. 

-

Manon was on a visit to Terrasen, and couldn’t stop herself from inquiring after you. To see if you were still around, or where she could find you. Aelin had raised her brows, something of a smirk on the Queen’s face. “She left to go back to the Ruhn mountains a week or two ago.” 

Manon nodded stiffly, and thankfully nobody else brought up her strange question. But, for the duration of the visit she was wondering why you’d go there. Why you would leave Orynth, and the home you built yourself. But she supposed those mountains had been a home to you as well, for all of those years, and she always heard Fae feel the call to places like that. Wild ones. 

She mentally calculated the time it would take you to get there, and decided she’d be the one to greet you. She could feel Asterin whispering in her ear, to go to their female, to see her again. 

-

Manon told you more about Dorian that night. You’d never been the jealous type - and she knew that. Still, it surprised you a bit. Somehow she’d become lovers with the King of Adarlan. Of all people. She told you of the Wyverns in training, and the people from the Southern Continent, come to train with them. Things you’ve heard of in passing, but hearing them from Manon was different, about how much she’d changed, how much was different. 

-

“I’m proud of you,” you said with a smile, and Manon, again, was surprised at the words. Others had mentioned things along those lines, but you were the first to ever say the words. She wondered if that one letter you left those years ago, if that was the start of things changing. 

[firehcart]

She knows what it is to lose everything, even as the words fall from @witch1ing ‘s lips. Her own eyes lift to the skies above out of instinct – but they’re empty, so empty, and she knows before she’s even told, knows what sacrifice has been made, can see the grief on the wyvern before her who cries for kin. A glance at Manon is all it takes for her to know what her heart already tells her to be true. Thirteen. Now dead - and only one to remain.

Hiss of shock leaves her lips for a moment, and where so rarely Aelin is lost for words, she is now. None she can speak will take this away or make this better, that she knows. Her own heart still weighs heavy with the thought of all she’s lost – a list she adds to more frequently than she likes to think.

Her parents. Lady Marion. Nehemia. Gavriel. Sam. The list goes on.

But even then, with all she’s lost, she doesn’t think she can imagine pain like this.

Hand moves now to lay against the shoulder beside her, and though she doesn’t press for more than just that one touch, her fingers squeeze lightly, her eyes flickering before them both, and she speaks softly.

“There will come a time soon where we rebuild the parts of Orynth this battle has broken. When wounds have healed and people have rested.” A moment, now, and Aelin dares the next. “There will be a memorial built for them. All of them. The people of Terrasen will never forget what was lost to defeat Morath.”

A familiar burn to her hues as her own tears threaten to fall, the grief she feels on the other’s behalf – but it’s not hers to feel, and not her pain to take. Pain that must be felt, before even the thought of healing can ever begin.

“We will not forget, Manon. As long as Terrasen stands, we will remember what was given. I promise you that.”

[ivycovehq]

welcome to ivy cove, lily! we can’t wait to meet manon blackbeak & amil mizuno. please make sure you read through the checklist and send in your account within 24 hours  

( lily, she/her, 27, est ) woah! was that MANON BLACKBEAK walking down main street? i heard they’re not actually from ivy cove but come from THRONE OF GLASS. they’re 100+ and live in CORDOVA GROVE but watch out because they can be CRUEL + RUTHLESS but are actually CUNNING + RESOURCEFUL. despite them NOT HAVING memories, you’ll always think of IRON MADE TEETH AND NAILS DRIPPING OF BLOOD, AN UNDYING LOYALTY TO HER THIRTEEN, BEING BRANDED A KIN SLAYER LONG BEFORE HISTORY WAS KNOWN when imagining them. / bruna marquezine, she/her

( lily, she/her, 27, est ) woah! was that AMI MIZUNO walking down main street? i heard they’re not actually from ivy cove but come from SAILOR MOON. they’re 24 and live in SHOREGRAZE RIDGE but watch out because they can be RECLUSIVE + CLOSED OFF but are actually GENTLE + SUPPORTIVE. despite them HAVING memories, you’ll always think of MESSY NOTES SCRIBBLED ACROSS NOTEBOOKS, A PEACE KEEPER BETWEEN FIERCE PERSONALITIES, THE POWER OF MERCURY when imagining them. / nishino nanase, she/her

[luxmaeastra]

Soren had left his colony, striking out on his own. He didn't usually bother with student groups. But Manon had intrigued him.

He slipped into the barracks easily enough watching her. She was letting loose, lowering her constant gaurd to drink.

He gripped the banister, watching the males slowly cut her off from her friends.

But it was the threads in the cobwebs this far up that confirmed what he already knew. Even as young as he was, unmated as he was - The Valg needed all the help they could get.

The Daglan would not stop, their Wyvern tools would keep going. Unless his kind helped.

Unless they were dragged from their isolation. Some sanctions had to be given if the Valg wanted Ridderak made Tools.

He'd lost sight of Manon in his musings. He let the threads guide him, the magic helping him easily find her. The gold shined for his eyes, even in the shadows.

Whatever they'd given her had dulled her magic and weakened her considerably. He'd watched her spar in Challenges, he'd watched her squadron as they got past Threashing, and earned the loyalty of their dragon.

She was formidable, it made sense. She'd grown up in Wendlyn, had trained with the Valkyrie before coming here.

These types of things shouldn't phase her. He waited, but she didn't rise to the occasion. He twisted his magic just a little, just enough to turn into her magic.

Gloriella, they'd dampened everything about her. He moved, stepping into the light.

He didn't give the boys time to form a defense, or call on there magic. His claws made quick work of them, slashing their throats and down to their stomaches. He left them there, turning to Manon. She had slid to the ground, she couldn't move but he could feel her fury.

He knelt before her to pick her up -"

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Soren turned, her friends had arrived. His walls went up, and he gritted his teeth against the urge to let them take her from him.

"She needs medical attention."

Morrigan looked between them, he stiffened feeling her magic trying to diduse the lie.

What was the point? He was 24, young enough to closer to them than the teachers he worked with.

But they needed him and given him what he asked.

A position, resources. Things that his kin had refused to give. If he could convince some of them to come and help him maybe they'd all survive the war to come.

"That isn't the full story. Tell me or -"

"She'll die. They fed her Gloriella -"

Iskra pivoted her eyes wide

"How the fuck do you know that? You help them? Do you know who she -"

"You're her mate. That's how you know."

Soren turned away from the girls, picking Manon up.

"Yes, and I'm taking her to infirmiry. You're welcome to come with me."

Anger seethed as she saw the state of her friend, Manon was never one to let herself be attacked or be taken advantage of. So this male, who now stood with bodies now littering the floor around him.

She remained quiet as the others spoke, as Iskra seemed to be taking control of the conversation. She felt the moment he recognized her magic, puling back a little as she did not wish to anger him and risk harming her friend.

Then the story came, the taste of truth, but there was something left out. She could feel it, she could sense it. She went to move forward when the truth came.

Mate. She was sure Manon would recoil at the idea, but there again maybe she would rejoice at having such a capable one? He had handled these males, her gaze lingered upon them. She'd get someone sent to clean up the mess, better than leaving it unattended.

"We're coming," she finally spoke up as she moved to follow into pace behind this male. "You may be her mate, but until she is able to give her response on whether she wants you or not, I think it best we stay by her side."

[manonvalfaren]

REASON IS A VERY LOOSE TERM WHEN DEITIES ARE IN QUESTION, with that she could agree. There was no reason in creatures that were forged of magic & that came into existence by mere thought of the universe - chaos condensed into an anthropomorphic creature. But, the spymaster was right - the Dark One was stronger than the other Cauldron-born, though she can't say she has any personal knowledge about them. Still, it was a good question - how, or perhaps better yet why - is she so powerful? "Maybe she was the first Made fae. At least the first successfully Made fae. I think it could warrant for such gifts to manifest in her - though it doesn't explain why the other Made aren't as powerful. Maybe she tore the power from the Cauldron, or she still uses it do harness her magic. I've never heard of a Made thing lounging around the Cauldron, or using it as a bubble bath, but who can say what's real? We still know so very little of the Made kin to truly know." Manon hummed.

yes, let's hope they're wrong.

"That's useful, indeed." she nodded, more to herself than Lailah. Having connections of the same position with other courts had been useful. Befriending Calista Caelum had been one of her wiser choices in life - it was an added bonus she truly liked the fellow commander. "So, did the Summer's spymaster tell you of any fun things to do around Adriata? Maybe a cheap, but cosy & fun, restaurant we can visit without being robbed blind. We already owe quite a few to Dusk, I think Summer's extravagance might really put dent in my brother's treasury." she snickered - it would hardly be a dent, but still... if they keep up with the court switching, they'll owe the entire Prythian at this point. She was pleased that Lailah was equally excited about exploring Adriata together. "Excellent! I do love spending time with you, we can make it a girl's trip! Never mind it's limited to the single city, but still. We'll make do with the border limitations." she chuckled.

ah, she had her money on the eight, but still.

Manon nodded. "I think the biggest problem is not whether or not we're strong enough, but rather whether or not we'll be united enough to pull it off. Our Mother might try to protects us, but for now I'm not inclined to take it all for granted - even her protection. Who knows if the Mother's scale will tip in the Dark's favour - or ours." she sighed, but then another chuckle rasped out of her. "I think he's too well credited for it." she snickered - but, he really was warm hearted.

might they?!

"You needn't ask me twice! We ought to take a tour - so we can know which places to demonize with out presence, first." she beamed up at the spymaster. "Excellent! We don't need a tour guide then, we can wander about together. Where do you want us to go first? I heard only great things about their market - both day one & night one - but we can leave it for last, if you have a better place in mind."

"i  use  the  word  'reason'  very  loosely.  i  can  understand  to  an  extent  she  cannot  bring  herself  to  harm  her  daughter,  how  ever  she  was  made  by  ours."  lailah  was  no  parent  of  course,  but  in  the  time  she's  had  with  her  own  mother,  dare  she  almost  say  re-connecting  with  asha  (  in  whatever  form  that  was  familiar  to  sharma-rao  women  ),  she  does  not  imagine  it  would  be  easy  for  her  own  mother  to  inflict  any  form  of  permanent  damage  upon  lailah.  that  had  never  been  the  thought  for  the  spymaster,  her  mother  was  not  warm  or  particularly  affectionate,  that  in  even  in  lailah's  anger  as  a  young  women,  and  her  constant  verbal  battles  with  her  mother,  she  didn't  believe  her  mother  wanted  to  hurt  her,  even  if  she  never  quite  understood  asha's  mind  and  her  heart  as  at.  as  decades  slipped  by,  and  now  having  far  more  proximity  to  her  mother  than  she  ever  has  attempted  to  willingly,  the  spymaster  was  beginning  to,  very  gradually,  understand  her  mother's  complicated  emotions  towards  her  daughter.  still,  she  cannot  compare  herself  to  a  unstable  deity  hell-being  on  destroying  a  realm  and  using  their  king  as  her  puppet.  "she  is  rather  strong,  the  made  daughter,  hard  to  believe  she  came  from  the  cauldron,  however,  it  is  the  truth  of  her  creation.  i  think  the  question  remains  how  she's  powerful  and  other  cauldron  made  fae  are  not."

that  drew  a  small  chuckle,  "i  am  afraid  of  so  as  well,  but  let  us  hope  we're  wrong."  she's  nodding  along  to  the  commander  as  she  states  of  her  friendship  with  summer's  third,  which  was  certainly  good  news.  for  lailah  it  was  particularly  for  reasons  beyond  their  circumstances,  rather  of  her  own  as  well.  she  had  intended  to  know  a  bit  more  about  the  court  that  both  her  mother  and  her  lover  inhabited.  it  was  an  idle  thought,  how  strange  fate  was,  tying  her  to  a  court  this  way.  "that's  quite  splendid  to  hear,  lady  manon.  i've  been  in  communication  with  summer's  spymaster  as  well."  the  topic  of  their  scholar  was  still  tender  for  the  summer  inner  circle,  knowing  daxton's  friendship  with  poppy,  and  the  loss  of  her  had  not  been  easy  for  him.  "yes,  we  must  go  to  together,  it's  why  i  suggested  it.  i  thought  you  might  have  enjoy  that  as  well.  i  am  curious  myself  to  experience  it."

"we  cannot  be,  lady  manon.  if  we  were  kept  alive  all  this  time,  it  is  all  the  more  reason  we  must  keep  fighting.  regardless  of  our  odds,  which  we  might  have  the  power  to  turn  in  our  favor."  while  lailah  cannot  even  begin  to  understand  what  their  deity  was  doing,  she'd  still  like  to  believe  that  she  protecting  prythian  in  whatever  manner  she  could.  "i  feel  it,  we  will  find  a  way,  and  my  instincts  are  never  quite  wrong."  he  squeeze's  the  commander's  hand,  before  chuckling  at  her  words  of  her  brother,  "one  thing  your  brother  is  not  credited  enough  for  is  his  generosity."  the  spymaster  was  certain  it  was  not  direct  at  just  anyone.  "it  also  helps  i  rarely  ask  him  for  anything."  she  adds  with  a  slight  grin.  "i  believe  it's  always  this  hot  here,  and  while  its  going  to  take  some  time  to  get  used  to,  i  have  missed  the  sun.  i  was  going  to  suggest,  might  we  take  a  tour,  you  and  i?  i've  walked  around  enough  that  i  can  show  you."

[pergaminaa]

What if—

The reason we got Glennis and Bronwen and them being Manon’s great grandmother and cousin respectively is because of what was going to happen at the end of the series?

I mean, without the Thirteen, she has no one left, no family to speak of. But having both Glennis and Bronwen is literally Manon NOT being all alone and that she has actual family still.

It’s not the same yes, and it will take her a long long time to get used to them but at least she isn’t all by herself. She has actual kin around and I feel that with them she will will be okay (eventually)

I also feel that Petrah is going to be someone that Manon trusts a lot and in my heart I feel that my girl is surrounded by people who genuinely love her and care for her.

[halcyon-days-no-more]

Melantha, Call me Mel

Meet Melantha, though she goes by Mel. What better name for a Sam Manson expy then one that means "Dark flower". While Mel isn't the Ultra-recyclo vegetarian that Sam was - I kind of head-canon gargoyles are mesocarnivores based on their teeth - I am going to honor her vegetarianism by having Mel be the best mushroomer in the clan.

For her eventual color scheme, I'm thinking lilac colored skin with pale rose or Mauvelous (it's a Crayola color) colored wing membranes. Her hair will be black or maybe I'll try something like Deepest Almond or Extra Deep Rose from the Colors of the World pack.

[raineandgeno]

Sooo. I'm Aelin Galathynius from Throne of Glass. I'm looking for the boys™ and Manon, and Nehemia if you're out there. I remember a lot up until Heir of Fire (I havent finished the series--) but I remember marrying Rowan. I don't remember a lot about Lysandra or Manon (sorry-) but I do miss Manon a bit. My discord is Aspen#7905 and yes this is Raine I just cant get onto the tumblr rn. Lol

Raine can’t access tumblr right now so I’m helping her out! 

Please contact Raine’s discord if you’re kin with any of the people she’s looking for! <33 You can also interact with this post!

- Mod GenoNOTE FROM RAINE: I remembered Lysandra :D Miss you girl-

[maasmuse]

Manon blinked but Jaskier wouldn't really come into focus much.

"She made me believe I killed my mother. That it was something to be proud of and then she made me kill my sister... I killed their princess and now I'm leading them."

Her voice was monotone but just on the verge of cracking. She was so tired.

"Representing the whole continent. A kin and witch killer."

Fallon did untangle herself from Jaskier's arms first thing. Unlike Manon, she didn't try and be quiet first thing but got ready as she usually would before heading to training.

Training where Manon wasn't there.

[ladyhavilliard]

I know I used the username ladyhavilliard because I was and am hopelessly in love with Dorian Havilliard, but I am beginning to think that it fits me more and more, not because I am meant to be his wife, but because I am just as much of a dumbass as he is and only fall for people that would murder me just because I'm annoying and I would still find that hella hot