2 years old

Lorcan was riding behind the royal party consisting of Queen Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, King Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius and their five year old son, prince Amaron Galathynius. General Aedion Ashryver, a demi fae in the queen's court and also her cousin, rode beside Lorcan, he suspected the the queen had placed him there to keep an eye on Lorcan, even after all these years of him dropping by, helping with battles here and there, Aelin still held a grudge. She remembered all too well how Lorcan had worked for Maeve.

They reached the city where the royal palace of the king of Adarlan resided and people cleared the way for they, bowing in front of the royals of Terrasen. Aelin and Rowan kept their eyes forwards but the little prince did wave a few times with a smile on his face.

The doors to the palace gardens stood open and they rode in. 10 guards were standing at various doors, two of them holding open the big double doors to the palace. The Captain Of the Royal Guard, Nesryn Westfall, greeted them with a salute as she motioned for a stable hand to take the horses after Rowan and Aelin had dismounted, also lifting Amaron to the ground.

"Your majesty," Nesryn addressed Aelin. She might have been friends with the Queen but rules didn't allow her to address her any other way in front of others, "I trust you didn't have trouble on your way here."

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Aelin smirked. After being part of politics for so long, she enjoyed the occasional fight.

Suddenly, a mass of raven hair slammed into Lorcan's feet. The fae warrior almost jumped out of his skin; it didn't help that, when he looked down, he was meet with a pair of golden eyes.

"Caught you," The little being yelled delightedly, still holding on to Lorcan's knees.

"Cahira," Nesryn scolded as she picked up the little girl, much to the later's dismay.

"I apologise for my daughter seems to have struck one of your court speechless," Nesryn said to Aelin as Lorcan glowered at her.

"Already?" Came an amused voice from the entrance. Dorian had arrived with Chaol by his side.

"Cahira already found a way to cause mayhem?" Dorian extended the question.

"I take it you're not surprised?" Aelin asked the king as she gave him a quick hug as a greeting.

"We've gotten used to the Mini Captain Of the Guard abusing her position." Dorian answered as he looked at Chaol's daughter who stared back with none of the fear or praise his subjects looked at the king of Adarlan. He liked having a child around the castle to lighten the atmosphere.

"Mini Captain?" Aelin smirked, "I'm betting she has control over your senior Captain and your right hand."

"Nice to see you haven't changed," Chaol commented dryly.

"I can see who Cahira learns from," Nesryn sided with Aelin. One to the Queen, Zero to that perfect husband of hers, Nesryn thought.

Aelin and Dorian sat silently besides Amaron's bed where the little boy was sleeping. The room was dark except for the little light seeping in from Aelin and Rowan's room which was connected to the child's by a door, much like the quarters Nesryn, Chaol and Cahira shared.

"This was easy." Dorian commented on the fact of how fast Amaron had gone to sleep, "Usually we can hear Cahira's cries to the other end of the castle when Chaol tries to put her to bed."

Aelin laughed, "So that's why he was adamant Nesryn do it. What about you?"

"I'm the king."

"Have you tucked Cahira in, read her bedtime stories?" Aelin continued the teasing. "Oh great king of Adarlan."

"I had Manon scare her into working with me." Dorian admitted to his secret tactic, though it wasn't entirely true, Cahira seemed truly fearless, even Manon couldn't scare her without actually hurting her, and that was something she didn't plan on doing.

"Speaking of her," Aelin's demeanor lost some of the relaxedness, "Has she been visiting recently?"

"Not for about a year," Dorian looked down, "I suppose she's busy. Running an army of witches can't be easy." Aelin's fish hit the sheets and Dorian looked up, startled.

"You deserve better than her, Dorian. Someone who actually cares enough to clear her schedule. You can't spend your whole life waiting." Aelin snarled.

"I'm not waiting for her. She was just there when I needed her, I don't expect her to come back." Dorian shot back quietly as not to wake Amaron.

"It's your life to ruin," Aelin said with a disapproving tone, got up and entered her and Rowan's room.

Dorian remained seated in the dark room for a while, listening to the even breaths of Amaron. Manon Blackbeak, the Crochan queen, had once been Dorian's lover. She had been wild and, at the time, Dorian had needed someone to take his mind off the slaughter of his father, the quilt he still felt over Sorcha and the stress of running a kingdom. He didn't however think that there would come anything of it, but, even after the war was over, every few months, Manon would stop by.

Flashback:

He was sitting behind his desk, thinking fiercely about all the suggestions and pleas from the townspeople from when he had taken the time to listen to as many of them as he physically could. Dorian rubbed his temples. It was well past midnight and he had no idea how he could create more working positions without raising taxes to build more factories.

The doors to his balcony, which had been locked, were thrust open and the Crochan Queen strode in, lazily picking at her iron nails, her platinum hair dancing in the wind blowing in from the open door behind her.

"Hello, princeling," Manon Blackbeak said as she propped herself on Dorian's table, on top of all the idea he had written down in the last few hours. "Or is it your majesty now?" She acted as if dropping by in the middle of the night was the translation of normal.

"Dorian is fine, witchling. Now, can you get off the table?"

Manon smiled, her iron teeth visible and gleaming in the candlelight, "This is not how one speaks to a queen. I should punish you but you seem to be doing a good enough job of that even without me here? Since when is it a King's duty to fill out forms?"

Dorian pushed his chair away from the table, standing up in the process. Without waiting for a reply, Manon leaned over the desk and placed her lips on his with animalistic hunger. There was nothing gentle in the witch's touch, rather a wild kind of want that pushed Dorian to pull Manon to him.

In the morning, Dorian woke up in the bed alone. The room was empty, no sign that proved Manon had ever been there except a slight tear in the fabric of the blanket where it had been caught on Manon's iron nails.