Smiles and Hair Braiding

The morning came with a wave of cold so at variance with the time of day that Dorian wondered if the light streaming from the stained windows of the ramshackle inn they were staying at were product of some practicing magician's fire. The gods knew how many were just now realizing they had magical gifts. Despite everything, the King wanted to growl in desperation as it had felt like he had gone to sleep not five minutes ago. He kept his grumbling to himself, if only to give his companion a few more minutes before the inevitable separation.

At this point in the war it was almost impossible to meet up before dinner and Dorian had to admit the only thing keeping him grounded was the white-haired witch next to him. Not even Chaol's heavy looks of disapproval whenever he saw them together could change how the King felt and just the thought of sleeping next to Manon made him go through the day without breaking down or bursting out-as he was still trying to control his magic and, lately, even the small things got it working up.

Only pale skin that was lightly scarred, long white hair, and lips that tasted like honey and starlight kept him from losing control of his raw magic, and the only one who knew of his volatile temperament was the same one who had complete control over him.

Manon shifted against him and Dorian bit his lip as her bare thighs brushed over his. Only a few parts of her body were unmarred and though he enjoyed exploring every inch of her skin, those soft areas were a treat he never got tired of tasting. "Good morning, witchling." He gave her head a nudge with his nose, inhaling the heavenly smell of her hair as he did so. Whether or not she realized how much influence she had over him, Dorian didn't care. If anything, he was glad it was her and no one else.

"Hardly a good morning."

He wanted to moan at the sound of her voice like this, but he knew they wouldn't get out of bed for a long time if he did so. They had already arrived late at a number of critical war meetings, and as the final battle drew closer they could waste no more time. Feeling somewhat overwhelmed, Dorian closed his eyes and softly kissed her temple while his hand trailed over the bare skin of her waist. "Don't miss breakfast this time," he warned.

Her nails scraped his chest, but she left no mark-she never did, even when he asked her too. "One missed meal won't kill me."

"It could very well be the last meal you eat before the next battle. I'd rather not worry more than I already will."

Manon stiffed at the confession before she backed up to meet his eyes. Face to face like this, it was almost painful how perfectly made her features were. If he ever got the chance to take back his kingdom and reclaim his city, he would ask an artist to paint a portrait of her-if only to immortalize her beauty for generations to come. "Worry is for fools. I am well-versed in war."

The King smiled, but it was small and somewhat forced. He pushed back at her hair with his fingers. "Then I seem to be the biggest fool to ever walk this earth."

She rolled her eyes. "You always get dramatic in the mornings."

"I do?"

Her expression said it all, but she still spoke, "yes."

Dorian nodded, taking in the information. "I suppose that is what happens when you sleep next to someone as lovely as you." Her scoff made him chuckle and he had a passing thought on how he would love to wake up to a conversation like this every morning.

"Does that work on all the women you've bedded?"

The amusement flew right off his face. "I never slept with anyone I bedded before you came along."

The honesty in his voice must have surprised her. "Really?"

The smile returned and he brushed his lips over her cheek, an area as soft as her inner thighs. "Why would I lie?"

Manon let him trail his mouth toward her neck. "Then it is a first for the both of us."

Attraction exploded within him, but Dorian controlled it well. He already knew that, but hearing her say it made him feel powerful. Special. "It's my favorite part of the day."

If this had been just the week before, Manon would have burst out of bed and literally back away from his words, from the revelation of feelings she didn't want to face. As it was, she stayed where she was, letting him talk and not being overwhelmed by his affection. Dorian had not told her he loved her, but they both knew the truth. He wasn't about to pressure her, however, which is why he treasured every moment she let him have with her. Voices floated from outside the room and Manon let out a breath near his ear. "We have to go soon."

He nodded, but neither made a move to get out of bed. Especially not while naked, Dorian mused.

As with most mornings, not that they had spent too many together, Manon was the first to move the sheets, facing the cold with the indifferent bravado he was quickly getting used to. She wore a mask in front of others, a mask she had a lot of trouble putting down, even when they were alone and he was inside her.

"Hey," he called. The witch glanced at him as she placed on her leathers, but not before giving him a sight that would leave many drooling. "Let me braid your hair today."

The face she made had him laughing and he relished in the fact that she amused him without even trying. "I'm to meet some war leaders today," she said, "I wouldn't want my hair to be of any indication as to how bad my capabilities are."

"I've been practicing." Those enchanting gold eyes narrowed in question. "I may have asked Vesta for some tips recently." It was an understatement. When Manon stayed late in patrols around the different encampments he had busied himself with the sentinel, learning the tips and tricks of hair plaiting and attempting to grasp at least the basics.

Manon blinked which meant she was considering it.

Dorian sat up.

"If you do it wrong, I will redo it," she told him.

The dark-haired man was already placing on his trousers, remembering his lessons and forcing his hands to stop shaking. It felt like a high privilege, to let him do her hair. Dorian knew he couldn't mess it up. With a sly grin, he signaled the chair in front of the cracked vanity mirror. "Have a seat, witchling."

She glowered, but followed through and sat down. They met eyes through the mirror and Dorian began to work on her hair, taking his time even though their moments were numbered. He had seen her braid her hair in a quick and effortless fashion, weaving intricate designs without even looking in the mirror and having them come out perfectly. A lifetime of practice.

The braid he was going for was a simple waterfall design that began on either side of her head and fell into a tight knot at the back to prevent it from breaking free when flying. It took him three times as long as it took her to get it looking decent, but he was proud of the result once he was done. "There," he said, "see for yourself."

Manon went for the hand mirror on the vanity and used it to observe his work. Dorian felt like he would cry if she said she didn't like it. A childish thought, but his feelings had been erratic since he was released from the Valg collar. Her eyes went to his as she placed down the item in her hand. "Well done, princeling."

The wide smile on his face had her raising an eyebrow, but he couldn't help himself as he went to hug her. She went rigid under the embrace, but Dorian reveled in the fact that she didn't push him away, a night and day difference from the last time he had tried to hug her. "I'm so glad you like it!"

The witch cleared her throat and only spoke when he let go. "Most witchlings could do better." When his face dropped she tilted her head, "you did more than just 'ask for tips' from Vesta. I can tell."

Dorian shrugged. "I really wanted to learn."

"Why?"

Because I love you, because you're perfect and your hair is soft, and I want everyone to know you're just as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside.

He looked at her closely. "I just wanted to try it."

"Alright."

Not wanting it to get awkward, the King offered her his hand. "Breakfast?" In answer, she walked right past him, going for the door and leaving him standing there, hand still outstretched. He waited for his feelings to react, for him to feel hurt at her reaction. But his emotions were calm, almost giddy, remnant of knowing she kept the hairstyle. Biting his bottom lip to keep from smiling widely again, Dorian followed after her.

In this time of need, I provide you all with fluff. I'm sure our little princeling will continue doing Manon's hair every chance he gets.

popusoialexandrina – "Here is this cupcake who makes her do pinky promises and go to dance recitals" You couldn't have summed it up any better. Great review, it made me smile for a long time.

LittleAna – I have some ideas regarding what exactly Sorrin inherited from her parents, and Manon and Dorian would definitely teach her themselves.

Kargack – I have to admit I laughed when you called Manon a 'mama bear,' so cute. Lovely review, I'm glad you melted from the cuteness :]

Manorian – I will take your request into consideration and maybe add a twist to it.

Manon's Dragon – I think there isn't a single person who doesn't have a sweet spot for little Sorrin at this point.

RubyAngelFire – Manon wouldn't have dared thrown a fit when she was younger, but a certain Princeling would definitely have. Manon as a mother has always been a fascinating thing to me, I'm glad you think I portrayed her well.

Thank you everyone for these amazing reviews, follows, and favorites! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!