Archive of Our Own ^beta

Spring

Manon

"Can't sleep either?"

Manon did not turn to the voice even when the witch slowly walked into Abraxos' temporary pen towards the edge of the growing city. It was small and apart from the other makeshift pens, if only because it meant it was closer to Manon's own royal tent.

"Bandits were spotted by the sentinels," Manon responded dryly as she continued to check Abraxos' harness.

Petrah entered her field of vision, but the Blueblood did not make a move to help with the prepping. "Those have never been an issue before."

Manon let out a quiet breath, annoyed at the talking, at the fact that she had to continuously make excuses as to why she needed to be away. Difficult, especially when you were a new queen in a new kingdom.

"And they won't be," the Witch-Queen answered, "once I deal with them."

She was aware there was no bite to the comment, no underlying tone giving away the fact that she was going out to potentially kill because she felt pleasure in it. Recently, there had been no emotion to the way she did things at all. Those few months where she had experienced things like joy and allowing herself to care seemed far away.

"You need any help?"

Manon knew Petrah was only doing her job, that she was tasked with protecting her new queen, especially in times as daunting as these. It still made Manon frown. "I'll be back before sunrise," she told her as she finished with Abraxos, "don't tell anyone."

An order there, and one the freckled witch didn't like. "You have to sleep at some point, Manon." And there it was, Manon thought, the one thing she always saw in others, especially when they spoke to her.

Pity.

She didn't want their pity.

"Wait here if you want," she offered Petrah, and Abraxos was airborne before the other witch could object.

The second they were in the air Manon closed her eyes, if only because it was here where she truly had some peace. Abraxos knew the nightly routine well, flying high enough that the scouts couldn't spot them, but not to the point where the beautiful valleys and hills of the Wastes couldn't be seen.

The moon provided enough illumination that night to reveal the large tent city, located just a couple of miles off the ruins of the original Witch Kingdom's capital. The decision to build in a new location had been a joint one. The Witch War had started due to perceived discrimination toward the three Ironteeth clans, and it had also been the very place thousands of witches had met their end. Manon had wanted to keep it as it was, to serve both as a memorial and a reminder to her people that this is what awaited them if they fell on old stereotypes and preconceptions. Surprisingly, most everyone in her budding council had approved. And although Manon had trouble concentrating on occasions, she was very lucid when she insisted the clans mix in and new covens form between both Ironteeth and Crochan witches. The last thing they needed was another war, even if it only started out as a skirmish.

As Abraxos banked and his flight steadied, Manon finally opened her eyes, taking in the cloudless dark sky, the seemingly endless valleys, the rivers that coiled and stretched between the hills. It was beautiful, that much was true, a paradise especially at the tail end of winter. The land would be arable in the coming weeks, the elders ensured, and the amount of game and wood was plenty, enough that a good portion of it was used for trade in things like grain and other supplies. The witches were fierce and used to extreme conditions, this first winter had been no trouble for them to face. Manon would even say it was comfortable.

As if in answer, a vagrant chill wind made her unbound hair lift up and she took in the cold and breathed in deep, savoring the scent of her home, a scent that reminded her of a certain King who was most likely busy with the rebuilding of his own kingdom.

Wanting to distract herself, she gazed at the stars, so bright and numerous in this land. Glennis herself had taken her out on a cloudless night similar to this one and spoke of things like galaxies and planets, moons and comets, gas clouds and dark holes. The witches had been avid astronomers long ago and although mostly destroyed, there were still some books and odd trinkets around related to the subject.

A library was already being amassed in one of the larger stone buildings being built in the center of the new city and within it was a contraption Manon still loosely understood. Witch mirrors were originally fashioned to be part of certain mechanical contraptions, and one such large contraption was already being worked on. A telescope, Glennis called it, an object not of destruction, but of exploration and study. Wanting to know more about it at that moment the witch looked back, wanting to signal her witches and have Ghislaine move next to her-

The pain hit her harder than the late winter wind at this altitude, and Manon didn't fight it as she watched the empty sky behind her, the size of it making her feel as though she had no kingdom, no home, no hope.

...

Morning arrived in an ocean of color that had Manon standing still outside Abraxos' pen for a couple of seconds, taking in the reds, oranges, and even pink and magenta that reflected on every surface and made even the dirt path that led into different parts of the city look mystical.

"My Queen."

The mentioned one turned to find Brownen mid-bow, the Ironteeth-style leathers suiting the witch and also sending a message. If Manon's guard and council could find common ground and prosper, then so could every other coven, even if it started with only a change of clothes.

Manon turned east, in the general direction of the farmlands currently being prepped for that long-awaited spring. Large barns made of dark oak cherry and ebony wood were in the process of being finished, one of which was were this particular meeting would take place. As of now, any buildings, farmland, and businesses being run were exclusively voluntary, Manon's council having not much control other than where they could set up what building. It hadn't given the queen any trouble and there hadn't been any need of extra workers yet, but it was better to be prepared for any scenario lest the volunteers slowed and workers were needed, which was why Manon wanted to start an official contract service, where workers would be paid for the work they provided and incentivized to continue working under the crown.

"Manon?"

The Witch Queen gave Brownen a look that made the Crochan narrow her dark brown eyes. But when Manon still didn't answer, the witch only repeated what she must've asked before.

"Are you ready to go?"

With a nod, Manon took off, a part of her glad that it was still too early for most of the population to be out. She supposed there was a certain satisfaction in being queen and seeing her people prosper, but Manon had no energy to greet and listen to anyone she came across that day. Not a month prior she had only stared when a new mother had presented her witchling to her, asking if she could hold her. Glennis had taken over easily, convincing the mother that a touch would be more than enough to bless the witchling.

Even thinking about the memory made Manon cringe. To think that some witches would see her as something to be venerated while others questioned why she wore the crown and not a noose around her neck was overwhelming. It made her tired, especially when no one seemed to understand just how difficult it was to make decisions that would always find opposition. Even the council of elders that Manon relied on had a particularly old Crochan witch that would demean Manon every chance she got, questioning her loyalty and moral compass. Removing her would take nothing but a word from the queen, the message it would send, however, could potentially snowball into a whole rebellion, so the witch remained.

They arrived at the empty barn far sooner than Manon thought and she went through the freshly painted door frame expecting the usual cluster of witches waiting for her. She paused in her step and turned sidelong to Brownen. "The meeting was here, right?"

The Crochan only nodded before she turned away from Manon and closed the door behind her, cutting off the beautiful sunlight and making the queen question what in the world was going on.

"Let's sit over there," Brownen offered tightly, pointing to some wooden crates being used to store dry leather that would then be used for trading. Their breaths were visible as Manon followed her sentinel, too exhausted to even question her.

Once they sat, the queen watched as the other witch prepared a small campfire in the area already set aside for the very thing in the center of the building. Manon barely registered the warmth as Brownen spoke. "You should take a couple of days off."

Silence followed as Manon kept her eyes on the fire, so similar to that of the Terrasen Queen's. "It's been almost four months," Brownen continued, undaunted, "you've worked from dawn to dusk every day since then. I think you deserve some time off. Our people would understand."

Not that old crone Jesibel, Manon thought.

"There is still a lot more to be done-" she began, but was cut off by a familiar voice.

"The kingdom can make do without their Queen for a couple of days, granddaughter."

Glennis walked toward them, a picnic basket in hand, with Petrah at her side watching the old witch's gait closely. Manon was starting to understand the picture. With more anger than she intended she said, "so this is what? An intervention? Was there even a meeting with the council?"

None of them answered her and as Glennis approached, Manon just crossed her arms. Carefully, Glennis placed the basket down close to the fire and then she straightened and held out her hand. "I have a letter for you."

Manon blinked as she extended her hand and took it, wondering what new border issue Ansel had-

The shock at seeing the sigil on the letter couldn't be hidden and Manon's heartbeat stupidly picked up. "This letter…" she began.

"It's from the King of Adarlan," Glennis clarified, as if Manon wasn't well acquainted with the golden emblem of a wyvern in mid-flight.

Dorian hadn't written to her before, not that she had expected him to. Border issues were minor and taken care of by lesser ranked officials and from what she knew, the plans to begin training an aerial legion with the rukhin were on hold until the wyvern eggs hatched…unless that's exactly what happened. Had it really been long enough for them to hatch? Orynth felt like yesterday.

"Well?" Petrah asked, a small smile on her pretty face, "aren't you going to open it?"

Even if what was on the letter ended up being completely formal, Manon had a lot of reasons as to why she didn't want to read what was on it. Even if it would have been four months within the next few days, things were too fresh right now, too raw to bother with the what ifs of communicating with Dorian, even if it was through a letter. Things between them had been…odd to say the least and Manon couldn't stop thinking of what that healer from the Torre had said to them, of what Dorian had asked of her and what she knew they both hinted at. At the time, it had seemed easy enough, to rebuild and make her Kingdom prosper, to then help Adarlan with the rukhin.

But now it felt like a weight. Not the emotions she was still learning to feel and identify, but more what could happen if they met again, what could be required of her. Manon wasn't sure if she was ready, perhaps she would never be ready.

One thing was for sure.

She didn't want to open the letter, she didn't want to be the queen of this kingdom, and she didn't want to be pressured by those who thought they knew what she needed.

So, she only shook her head, placed the letter down on the crate she had been leaning on, and left.

...

It didn't take long for her great grandmother to find her, not that Manon was hiding. She had gone to get Abraxos but had found him sleeping next to the fresh bed of flowers that were blooming due to a spell gifted by one of the Fae currently living among the Witches and because the warmth of spring was fast approaching. Manon hadn't questioned when a good number of them had decided to follow the witches to the Wastes, so horrified and hurt by Maeve's actions and identity that they couldn't go back to Doranelle or Wendlyn at all.

Abraxos had been her one comfort in all this, the one thing that felt real despite her love for the Wastes. But she would not wake him when he barely slept, when she took him out at odd hours just so she could try to clear her head. So Manon had gone back to her tent, ordinary and plain, the only thing that marked it as hers was the constant presence of guards, hand-picked by both Petrah and Brownen and later accepted or rejected by Manon.

The Witch-Queen's tent wasn't large, but it easily accommodated a basic cot with blankets gifted to her by a Crochan weaver, a small furnace that doubled as a cooking oven and that kept the inside of the tent warm, a basic wooden table with two chairs, and a small bookshelf next to a makeshift desk made out of the same crates found in the new barn. Nothing personal hung about, no artwork or trinkets. Manon never felt like this was where she belonged anyway.

"What is in that basket?" Manon asked as Glennis closed the flap to the tent before stepping forward.

The witch only smiled as she walked toward the table and with no care of the papers and maps on it, planted her basket there. For a second, Manon swore it moved. "I need you to humor me," the witch said, making Manon raise an eyebrow.

"Humor you?"

"Yes," Glennis answered, and again that blasted letter showed its nerve-wracking face. "I need you to read this letter."

Annoyed, but knowing that her great-grandmother could potentially wait and stare at her to death, Manon took it from her and broke the seal with an iron nail. She paused for a moment, swallowing, before she slowly unfolded the one-page document. She read it quickly, barely able to recognize that the heading at the top read 'Witchling' and that he had signed it as 'Princeling' before inking his actual name in a way that she knew took effort. He had done the entire letter like that, as if he had thought carefully over every word and practiced each stroke of the pen before writing it down.

Glennis sat down in one of the wooden chairs, the one not covered in requests and letters Manon had yet to go over. "Well?"

"He's invited me to go to Anielle, to oversee the new wyvern hatchlings."

"I thought the eggs were in Rifthold," Glennis commented, as if they were talking about the weather and not someone who constantly came up in Manon's thoughts.

"Anielle is closer to the Ferian Gap," Manon answered.

"So he wants the legion to be stationed in the Northern Fang? Smart."

As Manon merely re-folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope, her great-grandmother observed her closely. "Well?"

Manon's gold eyes flashed. "Well' what?"

"When should I tell the council that you're going?"

The look the Witch-Queen gave her great-grandmother was merely received with a knowing smile. Suddenly feeling very tired, Manon went toward her cot and sat, the letter delicately held between her fingers. "I don't know if I can do it," she whispered.

Glennis' expression changed then, her voice softer. "I know that despite how well things have been going for our new kingdom, there has been a lot of difficulties. I also know that even if Petrah, Brownen, and I have offered, you have chosen to keep your thoughts and feelings to yourself, which we respect." A pause as Manon looked away. Glennis still continued, "I'm not saying you should talk to Dorian or even open up to him specifically, but the change of scenery and a break from all this paperwork may do you some good."

Manon was almost convinced, but a thought kept going back. "I don't know if he wants…more." Those days before they parted, even when they hadn't been sexual, they had spent them together. Despite her almost constant silence, Dorian had consistently showed up to her morning rides with Abraxos, had invited her to have lunch or dinner with her, and on that last night…

Before the blush overtook her, Manon cleared her throat. And it was unusual for her to feel anything other than a pulling emptiness that threatened to drown her if she wasn't moving and busy. Perhaps she really did need this 'change of scenery.' The indecision gnawed at her as Glennis nodded to herself a few times.

"I know you haven't made a final decision," the old witch said, "but if you were to go to Adarlan, when would that be?"

Manon remembered the letter, the way he signed his name and said, "three weeks."

Glennis patted the basket. "Well, I have one more thing to give you. A gift."

Curiously, Manon walked toward where her great-grandmother motioned and watched as the old woman lifted one of the basket flaps. The Witch-Queen's eyebrows drew together as she looked from Glennis back to what was nestled within the basket.

"A…cat?"

The Crochan's smile was lovely. "Yes, for you-and Abraxos," she added with a chuckle. "Her mother was found frozen to death yesterday near the supplies for the library. When the Blueblood that found her went to take her, she found this little one nestled underneath the corpse. Cold and starving," she muttered then, "but alive."

"And you brought her…here…?"

Manon knew nothing of caring for animals, especially not ones that were still dependent on an adult and not a large coddled, scarred, flower-loving wyvern. Glennis seemed unconcerned with that fact and caringly awoke the kitten, whose fur was almost the exact same color as Manon's own hair and whose eyes were a sky blue in color that reminded Manon of Dorian's own sapphire ones.

"Wait," Manon protested, as Glennis placed the tiny creature in her stiff arms. "I never said I wanted a cat." The thing mewled as if cold and Manon instinctively brought it close, where it snuggled and meowed like it wanted to let everyone know it was right where it wanted to be.

As if her work was done, Glennis left the basket where it was and stood up. "You need to feed her every three to four hours as she is still very young. One of our healers is specialized in animals and she prepared a formula you only have to mix with warm water to give her. She should be weaned off it by this time next week." She lifted the entire top off the basket, revealing a myriad of things Manon was not familiar with. "The formula is in this container right here and the instructions are written on this paper. There are also instructions for how to have her go to the bathroom and medicine if she starts showing certain symptoms for different ailments that are common for young kittens."

Overwhelmed and shocked, the Witch-Queen couldn't think. But when Glennis made a move to leave the tent, Manon rushed toward her. "I-I don't know if-"

"It's only a kitten, Manon. She's alone in this world." Glennis softly stroked the cat's tiny head and the thing purred deeply before snuggling further into Manon's chest. "If you really don't want her, give her to Brownen tomorrow and she'll take her back to the healer. But do this favor for me today."

The sincerity in her voice made Manon hesitate and her great-grandmother used that moment to open the flap to the tent and step out into the already warming day. Manon told herself she would take care of the kitten until the next morning, if only because she didn't want to disappoint Glennis. But the second the sun came up; she would give the creature back.

Despite a total of four accidents, two blanket changes, a moment where Manon thought the kitten was choking and it turned out to be nothing but it trying to hiss, Abraxos huffing into the kitten's face and scaring it half to death, and the fact that when she placed the kitten on the basket to sleep for the night it had somehow managed to get up into the cot with her, Manon still did not give the little runt to Brownen the next morning or the one after that.

...

Dorian

Dorian was in a mood this morning, and even though his magic had a bottom now the temperature was still slowly dropping within the provisional court room. Two local lords had been arguing for the past week about a petty border dispute citing that neither of them was responsible for the repairing of the bridge that joined their two territories because it was in the other's land.

Rubbing his temples, Dorian faced the two balding men with a wan smile. "Again, gentlemen, we know the cost is high, but this bridge is important for both of your territories and for trade within Adarlan. Can we not just split the cost? I'll pay a third of it myself from my personal coffers if we just end this now."

It took them a moment to process what their king had said and although so red he could pass for a tomato, the more opulent of the two seemed to have found reason. "I suppose paying only a third would be beneficial in the long run."

"Yes, quite," the other one muttered as Dorian tried not to look to visibly relieved. Before they changed their minds the King of Adarlan was already drawing up papers, making sure each Lord signed their names in ink as soon as possible.

In the process of doing this the creaky wooden door to the stone building that was serving as his court opened and the king sent a look that could split someone in half to his royal page. The boy faced his glare calmly and even cleared his throat. Dorian cut him off. "I thought I gave orders to not interrupt any meetings I have while in court." Not because Dorian didn't want to listen to any issues or problems that could arise while he was busy, but because if he didn't, he'd be interrupted every five minutes.

The boy bowed low as he spoke. "Sire, you specifically told me that you "should not be interrupted at any point during a court procession barring a missive arrives from the Witch Kingdom."

Dorian's heart picked up just as the temperature in the room became warmer. "The queen sent a letter?"

The two bickering lords forgotten, Dorian quickly stood from his wooden chair and made his way to the boy who smiled as if he knew a secret and handed him a simple envelope embossed with a sigil he had never seen before. Three white stars on a black background served as the seal and he distractedly wondered who chose the design. Without looking at the two lords he called for them to finish and be dismissed.

The second Dorian was alone, he breathed out a couple of times to still his heart. It had only been three days since he sent his letter by hawk, could this be a response to that or some other correspondence altogether? Not thinking it over for much longer, he carefully broke the seal and took out a simple piece of paper, unfolding it before beginning to read.

Hello Princeling,

I would like to formally accept your invitation to oversee the wyvern hatchlings with the ruhkin at Anielle in three weeks' time as of the sending of this letter.

Manon

The smile on his face remained well into the day, and when dinner came, a heavily pregnant Yrene noticed the expression and as it was in her nature, remarked on it. "You seem pleased, Dorian."

He didn't bother hiding it, not when Yrene and him had shared conversations on matters relating to and directly mentioning the Wastes' new Witch-Queen and Dorian's potential feelings for her. "She wrote back. Manon accepted the invitation to Anielle."

Although Chaol frowned, Yrene positively beamed. "That's perfect! When? Did she agree to the date you set?"

"Yes, so the plan is still to leave after spring melts the last bits of snow off the road."

As they ate, Chaol seemed to wait for the perfect moment to intervene. "Don't expect her to be the same, Dorian. You had barely enough time to even get to know her."

Used to Chaol's comments, but not feeling particularly understanding of them, the king gave his Hand a look before sarcastically replying. "This trip is more than just trying to woo a witch, Chaol." If anything, this trip was also for strengthening the alliances between their kingdoms, to establish better borders, and to mitigate any sort of issues that could arise if conflict of the violent kind were to happen.

Adarlan had been very broken the day Dorian came back, and it had been an uphill battle since then. Managing supplies, rebuilding important trading routes, removing those that profited from the war from power and establishing a system where the common man could communicate with their king without it overrunning the entire court. The past couple of months had been a time where Dorian had barely enough time to sleep, but they had been good and as of now, it was time to see beyond the borders and think of new ways his people could prosper.

Of course, he had thought of Manon, sometimes multiple times a day, and although he only had secondhand information on how the new Witch Kingdom was doing, the news had always been positive. And it appeared as though Manon was well liked, even revered in some cases, within her kingdom and even beyond.

"Well," Yrene commented, as she stroked her large belly, "I'm sure regardless of what might occur between you two, it will be nice to see her."

Dorian nodded, a shy smile taking over. Yes, it would certainly be nice.