Manon Blackbeak Crochan, Queen of all Witches, immortal killer, didn't know what to think. She didn't necessarily wish to return home to the Wastes, but she had been gone far too long already. Of course she'd missed her home, but 9 months wasn't necessarily a long time for an immortal. She'd left Bronwyn to lead, warning before she left that she'd be gone a while, Manon suspected Bronwyn knew anyway.
The wind whipped at Manon's hair, storm clouds were rolling in and she scented rain on the air, she signalled for Abraxos to begin a slow descent. Normally Manon wouldn't fear flying in this weather - in fact she liked it - but with the two small bundles held snuggly in her arms, she didn't dare.
Manon didn't need to steer, Abraxos knew where he was going. He landed in a small clearing, with big enough trees to block out the worst of the wind and rain, Abraxos would do the rest. She didn't bother to unpack, simply sliding down from Abraxos and then leaning against his warm body. With the two bundles safe within her arms, Manon quickly fell asleep under Abraxos' wing.
A kingdom came into view, but it was not the one Manon had initially planned to visit. Even with winter still to come in many moons, there was snow covering every inch of the ground and the great mountains that guarded the passage. The familiar cry of a hawk welcomed Manon as she flew over the Staghorns and into Terrasen.
The white-tailed hawk flew with her and Abraxos all the way to the castle, both a calming presence while her emotions raged on. Manon led Abraxos to land of the northern battlements, where a familiar golden queen waited with her arms crossed.
"Manon, I would say it's been too long, but you paid a visit just last year," the Queen said, curiosity lighting her gaze and she appraised the bundles in Manon's arms. There was a flash and a large fae male appeared to take his place beside his mate. Their nostrils flared, no doubt attempting to make sense of this untimely visit.
It was true, Manon had been to Terassen recently, every ruler across the seas had. The birth of Terassen's possible heir was a major event, and the powers the child would inherit from two mighty bloodlines. She'd seen Dorian then, for the first time in 20 years since the war; he had still managed to make her blood boil. While Manon hadn't aged, the king of Adarlan had, but he looked even more striking for it, Kingsmanship had done him well it appeared. He'd wooed her, and she'd succumbed to her desires, her body had missed the feeling of those fluttering phantom hands.
Manon didn't know what had possessed her to fly to Terassen, something in her gut had simply pulled her there.
"Aelin," the witch-queen breathed, "I need advice."
The blonde queen's face fell in seriousness, "step inside then, Manon, we will talk privately in my office." She then turned to the fae prince and said in a lazy voice, "Rowan, cancel all my appointments for today."
The fae king didn't bother to hide his amusement as he said, "and what should I tell them, Milady?"
Aelin glanced at Manon, a smile growing on her lovely face, "tell them I'm discussing our relationship with the witch-kingdom."
Aelin then turned on her heal and led the way through the doors and into the golden corridors. Manon's head was in a whirl and she barely recognised where she was going until they were there. The queen fell into an armchair situated by the fireplace and gestured for Manon to take a seat opposite her, completely disregarding the grand desk shoved to the corner of the room.
Aelin offered Manon a box, "chocolate?"
She shook her head. The golden queen shrugged, took three for herself, then set the box down on the small table beside her. Aelin appraised Manon, her turquoise eyes sending her a look that sent most people in her court running. She popped a chocolate in her mouth then quickly swallowed.
Manon stayed silent.
"Tell me, Manon, why are you here? You've never been one to visit," the queen considered for a moment, then added, "and why are you carrying two babes with you?"
Manon slowly handed Aelin the two wrapped babes, looking at her for consent, Aelin carefully pulled back one of the cloths. A tiny face was revealed, a beautiful, barely 2 month old girl. Her eyes were open, revealing eyes of solid gold surrounded by sooty lashes. The babes face was round and healthy, pink dusting her cheeks, her face surrounded by inky hair. There was definitely parts of Manon in her, the fine-boned structure of her nose and jaw, her little fingers and toes already showed resemblance - but the full lips that graced the child's face were not hers, neither was the shape of her brilliant eyes; they were all his.
Aelin let loose a breath, "are they…?"
Manon nodded mutely. It had been a shock when she found out she was with child, even more so when the healer had informed her there were two. Manon had assumed the magic in Dorian's blood had played a part in the conception, but then she birthed the children...
"By wyrd," Aelin swore, "I see how it's a delicate situation…"
Manon sighed, "there's more, Aelin."
The queen blinked, "more than this?" Aelin's eyes were wide as Manon leaned forward and revealed the second babe, and she went still with predatorial stillness as she caught the child's scent. "But that, that isn't possible, witches only birth females."
Manon reminded herself to breathe as she replied, "I know, I don't know what to do,"she had to force the words out, "do I even tell him? We haven't talked for twenty years, Aelin." The queen's lips curved in a smirk and her mouth opened, no doubt to say something snide, and Manon's own lips lifted to become a snarl.
And Manon realised she must have seemed more delicate than she'd thought as the queen stopped short and pursed her lips.
"I hate to say this," a frown creased Aelin's face, "but you need to tell him. They have Adarlan blood, his blood; he deserves to know."
Though she'd expected that answer, Manon stiffened. It had been more than twenty years since the war and it was still strange to experience these fighting emotions. Learning how to master them had been more difficult than she'd anticipated, and there were still days where they suffocated her. Grief, despair, anger - but also an overwhelming feeling of happiness and love. Strange these feelings.
"I will tell him," she promised to the queen, "he deserves to know." Manon words seemed to echo in her own ears, mocking her.
The harsh planes of Aelin's face softened and she said quietly, "stay as long as you need, Manon, you're always welcome. You can have your usual chambers in the East Wing, though you may find the castle more quiet than usual." Aelin sighed, and Manon wondered if the Queen might be lonely, "either way, lunch is being held in the dining room soon… Manon? I'd like you to join us, please."
She nodded, "of course, I'll be there."
The blonde seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, "good. I'll have Dairah escort you to your chambers."
Manon managed a smile, golden eyes warming, "thank you, Aelin, you're a good friend."
The queen's face creased in happiness, "thank you, Manon." The witch-queen nodded and Aelin made to leave, stopping only once to turn around as say, "you're a good friend as well… and congratulations." Then she was gone, her golden hair a swinging curtain before the door shut.
Her sons white hair gleamed as she smoothed it back against his small head, and his eyes - blue as sapphires and flecked with gold - blinked up at her, and she liked to believe that was adoration in his eyes.
And as Manon looked down at her children, her beautiful girl, her impossible son - born male without any explanation, against all odds - both destined to rule Kingdoms and fight in wars and love unconditionally; and Manon felt complete.