fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
“Live, Manon.
Live.”
I loved this piece so much and I can’t say I didn’t cry while painting this lol, i really hope you enjoy and plz don’t kill me for doing this
This is not fair, I was not prepared for this
fuzzballsheltiepants reblogged
“Aelin had felt it before: a thread in the world, a current running between her and someone else. She’d felt it one night, years ago, and had given a young healer the money to get the hell out of the continent. She’d felt the tug—and had decided to tug back. Here it was again, that tug—toward Manon, whose arms buckled as she collapsed to the stone.” -pg 483 Queen of Shadows
Further evidence that Aelin, Manon, and Yrene are going to be the focal points of this war. Three powerful women in their own right who have overcome countless obstacles and have each crossed paths along the way. They have a string tugging them together and TOG7 will be the climax of their story.
I would bet anything that all three of them will be controlling some part of the forging of the lock, whatever that might entail. Perhaps each of them must put one piece of Wyrdstone back in the gate.
No matter what, Manon, Yrene, and Aelin are going to be the ones to finish this war.
Current Fanfic Masterlist
As of 4/7/18, that is. I’m terrible at updating.
If you’d rather read on AO3, I’m here
ACOTAR
Nessian: Just assume all of these are at least a little NSFW. This is not the order they were written in, but is the logical order to read them in. On AO3.
Elucien: The third one is NSFW. Slightly interwoven with the Nessian stuff.
Elriel: A different storyline from the Nessian, all from prompts. On AO3.
Lucien/Andras: Depressing. Sorry. (Not Sorry.) On AO3.
Random Feysand, mostly from Kiss prompts:
Self-Employed NSFW…and the only one not from a prompt
The Gift a little fluffy silly thing
Burning Feyre, ready to make a baby
The Name Pregnant Feysand
Modern AU ACOTAR
Elain and Amren (Amrain?) On AO3.
Nessian
Just Once. (Maybe Twice.) NSFW On AO3.
Throne of Glass:
Aedion Prequel (still a WIP)
The Forging of the Wolf: This has canon-typical violence and multiple chapters are NSFW to some degree, and as I write it just keeps getting gayer. There are more specific trigger warnings at the beginnings of the chapters that merit it. On AO3.
Chapter One (trigger warning)
Chapter Five (trigger warning)
Chapter Thirteen (Trigger warning)
Manon On AO3.
Modern AU Throne of Glass
Lysaedion On AO3.
All For the Game/The Foxhole Court
Andrew, during The King’s Men. On AO3.
Neil coping with Andrew’s pending graduation and poor communication. Post-canon but canon universe. On AO3.
Andrew decides to get tested. Post-canon but canon universe. On AO3.
Andrew realizes his defenses have been breached. Post-canon by several years. On AO3.
Neil watches Andrew get hit in the head with an exy ball. A traumatic brain injury and recovery ensue.
Back to the Start Post-canon but canon universe. On AO3.
The Heir of Mighty Kingdoms
A month had passed since Erawan’s fall. A month since Aelin Ashryver Galathynius and Dorian Havilliard had met on that battlefield and braided their magic together to forge the lock. A month since they had embraced each other, weeping, so exhausted they could barely stand, as their loved ones fought their way to them through Erawan’s failing troops.
A month since Iskra Yellowlegs had reached them first. Since the new Queen of Terrasen had torn the Ironteeth witch limb from limb, despite her weak shaking limbs, her gutted magic. But too late; the witch’s blade had already pierced the young King of Adarlan’s heart. And Aelin Galathynius had fallen to her knees in the spreading pool of blue and red blood, and mourned her friend as the rest of them reached her. Too late, always too late.
Manon paced the rolling green hills of her new home, the lands fertile again now that the Crochans and the remaining Ironteeth were united under her rule. She had never gone back to Rifthold, though she had been told that Chaol Westfall had already done much to rebuild the city; though Aelin, who had taken control of Adarlan in the absence of any surviving Havilliards, had asked her to come to honor Dorian. She would never go back. Only that sapphire-eyed King had ever drawn her to it.
As she walked, she felt a sudden fluttering in her abdomen and she stopped, startled. She pressed her hand over the area, but felt nothing further. And so she walked on.
*****
Three months had passed since Erawan’s fall. There was no denying what had happened now; her always taut abdomen was curving, as ripe as the hills around her. Abraxos would not leave her alone, but followed her as she walked through the fields, pausing occasionally to snuffle at her. Behind her, Asterin and Vesta trailed, teeth and nails at the ready. Though the lands were peaceful now, they would not soon forget a hundred years of fighting. They would not allow harm to befall their queen. Her heir.
Manon could not help but wonder what the young King would have said, had he known. Would he have joined her here, in her own country? Or would he have expected her in Rifthold? In reality, she had barely known him, though she understood his heart as well as her own. She knew that he would have let her choose. And that she would have chosen him.
*****
Six months had passed since Erawan’s fall. Manon was barely allowed out of her new home, though she snarled at her undesired bodyguards. If she opened the front door, Abraxos was sprawled across her step; even in the house every movement, every breath, was monitored by the Thirteen. Well, the Eleven now; she had not replaced Sorrel or Ghislaine.
She was grateful for their attentions when the first pains began. Initially it just seemed as if the witchling within her was stretching, and her back was cramping in response. But soon, when she felt her water break, she knew that the witchling - Dorian’s child - was arriving. Hours passed, the pains becoming more intense, unlike anything she had ever felt. Not the sharp, brutal pain of her grandmother’s iron nails gutting her, though nearly as intense. No, this was pain tempered by something she had barely dared consider. By love.
Asterin had sent for a healer at the first contraction, and Asterin was the one holding her hand now, talking to her through the tears that fell from her gold-flecked black eyes. And Asterin was the one who took the witchling from the healer as soon as the first cries rent the air, who wrapped her in the blanket one of the Crochan’s had made and set her on Manon’s chest.
Manon looked down at the tiny new life, whose wailing had quieted as soon as she was in her mother’s arms. They stared at each other, and unfamiliar wetness ran down Manon’s own cheeks as she looked into her newborn’s eyes. Sapphire eyes, with flecks of gold. The eyes of the new queen of Adarlan, the future queen of the Crochans and the Ironteeth. The heir of mighty kingdoms.
Manon held up a hand. And again, the world stopped. Manon, eyes still upon the beast, said, "He's mine."