A/N: Next chapter aka Dorian is Dorian and Manon is Manon and Aelin is Aelin. Also I love the idea of Aelin trying to show Manon how to be a good queen or how to relate to humans and just failing epically because frankly Aelin herself is a disaster of a human/fae being.

Disclaimer: I do not own Throne of Glass

A Plot

Manon was already naked and lying under her sheets reading one of the sickeningly horny novels Aelin (and just about every other woman in this damn place) encouraged her to read. She was shocked how much she enjoyed them. It was a disappointment that she only had time to read them while in Orynth or Rifthold.

Her guest room was far more extravagant than she chose for herself, but she did admit it was an exceedingly comfortable place. There was even a balcony for Abraxos to perch on when he wanted to visit. It was a good space to spend her time.

And did she have time this afternoon. While Aelin and her court were now dressing for the dinner to formally welcome the allies that helped defeat Maeve and Erawan, she planned to wear her witch leathers and traditional braid of war. There would be no preparation or pampering. Lysandra had entered and brought a dress along with jewelry and a makeup palette, something Manon had no idea how to use in the first place, but offered no help. She had an excuse.

That is, she had an excuse until a portal opened into her room and one Dorian Havilliard walked through. "Hello, Princeling," she said as flatly as she could. He looked at himself as if surprised his magic had worked. On the other side of the portal she saw his tower bedroom in Adarlan. The floor was covered in wyrdmarks drawn in his own blood – fewer than she anticipated.

"Hello, Witchling," he gasped. "I made it for dinner."

"You're not here for dinner," Manon said as she got out of bed and prowled towards him. Much to his obvious surprise, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Although she was still uncomfortable with hugs, she was comfortable with Dorian – and comfortable enough to try the seductive variety of hug she'd seen used by Aelin and Lysandra. Unfortunately for her, Dorian resorted to the more traditional sort of hug.

"I made it," he whispered to himself.

"For what?" Manon asked him as she moved away to look at him.

"I need to tell Aelin something," he replied as he moved away from her. He looked around the room and found the dress and accompanying accessories on the bed. The prince picked up the necklace and fingered it. Manon stared. "Did Aelin give you this?"

Manon didn't answer.

"I have competition for your affections, then," Dorian joked. "Perhaps I should change to match." He indicated his embroidered royal blue tunic.

"I'm wearing my leathers," Manon replied.

"No you aren't," Dorian replied. Invisible hands pinned her to the bed post while a wind lifted her up off the ground. He was getting more talented, but not in the way she wished. Dorian's actual hands dressed her in the undergarments before they slipped the dress onto her body. Before the wind let her down, he slipped the heeled shoes onto her feet. Her hands didn't get released until all of her jewelry was in place. Fortunately, a knock on the door interrupted his attempt to do her hair and makeup.

"Manon?" Lysandra's trill voice asked. "Did you need help in there?"

Manon was about to say no, but Dorian took the breath out of her mouth.

"Yes, if you would," Dorian replied for the witch. The door opened. "You have good taste, if I do say so myself."

Lysandra looked at the portal. "And how long will that last?"

"Until someone smudges the marks on the other end," Dorian replied.

"I'm sure Aelin would like to see it – that is if you and Manon aren't too busy," she said, eyeing the pair. Manon looked much less amused than her human counterparts.

Dorian moved Manon towards the vanity stool and Lysandra got to work.

Aelin had made extra spots at the table for her parents and Gavriel. Marion was not yet healed enough to attend, and the other three were barely so. The large round table in the center of the room held Aelin and all of her allies.

One of the last to arrive was one of the least accustomed to human functions: Manon. The witch queen was almost knocked over as Aelin greeted the man at her side. "And what are you doing here?"

"Later," Dorian replied. "Tomorrow."

"Nice of you to coordinate with our choice for Manon," Aelin said, sizing the King up. "Is there an announcement to make?"

"No," Manon cut in.

"Did anyone make the trip with you?" Elide asked.

"If you're asking about Yrene and her son," Dorian answered. "No. Chaol wouldn't have let me come, so I didn't let him know."

"That seems to be a common theme with you," Aelin said, eyeing Manon with an exaggerated look of sympathy. "Shall we get on with dinner? Or do you need to tell Abraxos that his rider might be occupied with another mount for a while?"

Aelin could feel her parents' disapproval at that jab but in no way regretted it.

"And how did you get here?" Aelin asked as she guided the couple to the table.

"I said later," Dorian replied. "Let's eat."

Aelin wouldn't take Dorian's response of "tomorrow" as an excuse once her interest had been peaked enough at dinner. She barged into Manon's room to examine the portal and immediately stole paper off her table to write down Dorian's wyrdmarks to create a portal.

"How did you determine a location?"

Manon turned her head to Dorian, equally curious.

"W- well, I looked for marks we knew and didn't know that would represent a location or a person near here, and only found one combination specific enough," Dorian replied, obviously flustered.

"So you used 'witch queen?'" Aelin asked. She grinned. "Don't think I haven't been studying myself."

"So what if I did?" Dorian asked her, grinning.

"Then he did," Manon replied.

"You still haven't told me why you're here," Aelin told him. "Missed me that much?"

"No," Dorian replied. "I have news for you – out of Rifthold. Or more precisely, out of the assassin's guild."

That put Aelin on edge. "What?" she hissed.

"One of my spies is assigned to keep an eye on the guild, if only because I don't quite know what the newer recruits are capable of," Dorian stated. "They got word from the guild that something wasn't right – something unexpected. And now I know that something happened the morning your parents, Gavriel, and Lady Lochan were resurrected."

"What. Happened." Aelin demanded to know.

"A young man, a former member of the guild who had died, is now alive and locked up inside the keep," Dorian slowly said. "I didn't believe it, but…"

"Sam?" Aelin whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

"Alive. My spy was assigned to guard his room and sent a note to me," Dorian replied.

"Does he know?"

"No. The best I can tell they want him to think you died in Endovier. I think they're holding him hostage, hoping he'll continue to work for them."

"I need to get him," Aelin responded.

"And you will," Dorian stated. "So I came to tell you."

"Why didn't you get him yourself? Why didn't you rescue him?" Aelin growled, advancing towards him. Manon didn't make a move, knowing that Dorian deserved any punishment he received.

"I figured you would want to do it," Dorian replied. "But my spy has explicit orders to intervene if the situation worsens."

Aelin backed off. "Then, I suppose I will have to do it myself." She turned around and out the door, slamming it.

Rowan was suspicious when Aelin came back to their room late and dropped a suspiciously full bag into their closet, but he didn't question it. She couldn't do anything out of sorts at least the next week. At least he hoped so. He wondered if he should bring her parents into this. Then again, her mother had seemed rather overprotective of her daughter already and she didn't need any more ammunition to question Rowan. Rowan's decision to leave Aelin to her own devices didn't reflect well on him. He was sure if Evalin heard about Aelin's abduction there would be more problems.

"Fireheart?" He rolled over towards her.

She rolled towards him, eyes staring into his.

"What are you planning?"

"A trip to Rifthold," Aelin responded. "A quick same old, same old."

Rowan raised an eyebrow. That doesn't tell me anything.

"Fine. I have reason to infiltrate the assassin's guild," Aelin replied.

Should I ask? His face seemed to ask.

Don't tell Daddy. Her face changed. She rolled back over.

"What do you plan to do, exactly? The Queen of Terrasen can't just show up in Rifthold and infiltrate the assassin's guild without some sort of political mess resulting," Rowan replied.

Aelin stayed silent.

"You're not going in as Celaena, are you?" He whispered. "Do they know your real name?"

"As far as Dorian's spies know, no," Aelin responded. "We've all been planting rumors of Celaena's exploits abroad after the fall of the King of Adarlan."

He should've suspected as much. Aelin had her hand in everything on the continent. Coordinating a rumor mill about her former self had to be a fun side project by her standards, even if it did play a role in keeping her secret past to herself until she was ready to out it herself.

No, he definitely was not going to tell her father about this.

"When are you going?"

"Dorian has a portal to Adarlan," Aelin responded. "I can stop in and out whenever I want this week."

"Stay here tonight," Rowan replied.

"Don't worry," Aelin assured him. "I will."

Lysandra didn't know why she woke up, only that she had awoken. Tonight she was in snow leopard form. The heightened sense of smell told her Aelin was at her door, pacing. She quietly padded across the room to the door. She pressed her nose to the door and sniffed to confirm that it was indeed Aelin before shifting to slip out under the door unnoticed by her husband. Aelin didn't come to her room late at night for no reason – and especially not since Lysandra and Aedion had been married.

She transformed into a snow leopard before following the silent Aelin to the sitting room attached to Manon's guest suite. Rhoe and Evalin refused to allow Dorian to share the room and he was inclined to follow their instructions, having been part of his parents' generation. He could sneak into Manon's room easily enough.

Aelin fell into a chair. Lysandra took note of her dark cloak and suit – her assassin's suit. She shifted into her human form – naked, but necessary for talking. She grabbed the extra cloak Aelin was holding.

"What's this about?" Lysandra asked.

"A war council," Aelin grinned.

"Against whom?"

"The assassin's guild."

Lysandra raised an eyebrow.

"They have Sam," Aelin replied.

Lysandra gasped. "Sam?"

"I guess Lorcan resurrected him for some reason. Dorian's spies got the information that he's being held there," Aelin told her friend.

"I would assume you already have a plan," Lysandra told her friend.

"Of course."

"What do you need me for then?" Lysandra asked.

"During the night I can go around Rifthold as Celaena and kill who we need to kill," Aelin replied. "But I need a few sightings at the old haunts. I can't pass anymore. I'll also need someone here to cover my tracks if I happen to be gone into daytime hours."

She was referring to being unable to take her human form any longer – a sore spot. "I can do it in Rifthold, but not here. Your parents may not have seen you for some time, but they'll know."

"That's why I need to minimize daytime operations," Aelin replied. "I can go on a few hours of sleep."

"I know," Lysandra replied. "But how long are you going to keep this up? You're not going to leave Sam there forever, are you?"

"No – oh god no – I'm only keeping him there as long as it takes to send my message and ensure he's well enough for travel. A few days, tops."

The door to the bedroom creaked open and Manon slipped out, dressed in a set of the thick pajamas Aelin had gotten for her, insisting even a witch couldn't sleep naked during the winter. Frankly it looked ridiculous – if more comfortable than what Aelin currently wore.

"Out for a kill tonight?" The witch asked.

"Two – or perhaps three," Aelin responded. "Depends on my mood."

"Who?" Lysandra asked.

"Only people who deserve it," Aelin told no one in particular, though she handed Lysandra a list of names. Lysandra nodded as she read the list.

"Yes, who indeed?" Manon echoed, curiosity and hunting instinct now peeked.

"A few people tangentially responsible for killing our first loves," Aelin responded.

"So sentimental," Manon replied.

"Are you joining the hunt then, witch?"

Manon turned on her tail to get dressed, the smirk on her face being the witch's only answer.

Aelin wasn't sure whether to be shocked or dismayed at the late hour she had returned home. Maybe she and Manon had been a little too brutal. And maybe they had a little more too much fun having a glass of ale and watching Lysandra (as Celaena) flirt with and subsequently roast the men of Rifthold's underworld. When she returned the sun was rising, and that meant some of the palace was awake.

Explaining to her parents why she was in dirty clothes that sported rather large fresh blood stains would be hard, so she was grateful that she managed to get through the palace corridors without seeing them – and that Manon had lent her a "spare" (read: regifted) cloak.

It was only in her room that she realized how badly she had fucked up. In her sitting room her mate was having tea – tea – with her parents.

"Good morning to you too, Aelin," Rowan greeted her. If I knew how late you'd be out I'd have distracted you otherwise.

Blame Manon.

Rowan snorted.

Aelin's parents were much more confused.

"And where were you?" Evalin asked, appraising her daughter.

"I thought you were supposed to let me evaluate your fighting abilities this morning?" Her father asked.

"I've told you, and hopefully my husband has told you as well, I am a more than competent fighter," Aelin told her father. "I would say I'm a prodigy, but that would be understating it."

Rowan held back a snort.

Evalin had grabbed her husband's hand, sending her own silent message to her husband. "But, yes, where were you last night, daughter?"

"Ask Rowan," Aelin replied as she entered the bedroom and began to strip.

Her mate was under specific orders to not tell her parents where she had been. "She does this far too much: sneak out when convenient for her and tell you later."

"But you do know this time?" Rhoe asked him.

"Yes, she doesn't do it to me any longer, but others – yes," Rowan confirmed. "I made sure there was at least one person with her who would come get me if she got into trouble. And then followed myself until earlier this morning."

"Overprotective bastard," he heard Aelin say from their bedroom. From her parents' reactions, they hadn't heard. Thank the gods.

"You will tell us, Aelin," Evalin called to her daughter. "Today."

"If we missed her rebellious teenage years, I suppose we must face them sometime," Rhoe attempted to assure his wife.

Evalin kept on a neutral face. "And teenagers own up to their mistakes. That's not her blood on her – not with that scent – it's the blood of at least two humans. Killing isn't a mistake – though it may be a mistake to be out killing as a Queen."

"She's our daughter – I'm sure she did a good job of whatever she did," Rhoe replied. "But this just means I need to see her fight. To know she can handle herself."

Rowan glared at the door, wishing Aelin hadn't left him to her parents. Oh yes, he would get back at her, even if getting back at her meant locking her into the interrogation room with them.

Sam was awoken at dawn by a commotion outside the guild. One of his guards was staring out the window, staring in disbelief. "Sardothein," he had hissed. If he was well enough to walk, Sam would have used the chaos to escape. He at least needed to know what had happened, especially if it involved Celaena.

"What happened?" He rasped out.

"Do you want to see for yourself?" The guard asked.

"Yes," Sam replied.

The guard picked him up like a rag doll and brought him to the window seat. He stared out, shocked at the scene. Two men – two men he recognized as being present as he was tortured – were skewered on the posts marking the gate of the keep. He recognized their injuries as well. They were injuries that had been inflicted upon him. In human blood, two letters were written: CS.

"They say she was out at the new pits drinking both before and after the murders," the guard by the door said. "As if nothing happened, but soaked in blood."

Sam's eyes widened. She was here. Celaena was here. And hopefully she wasn't here to burn the place down – at least before she rescued him.

The door swung open and Tern entered, looking completely enraged. "What. Do. You. Know," he hissed out. "If Sardothein wasn't back, I wouldn't hesitate to kill you right now."

"Nothing," he replied honestly. He refused to be afraid of Tern. "I know nothing."

"Then why are Harding and Mullin missing? And why is your lover back in town? And how are you alive when we saw you dead?" Tern asked.

"What do you know?" Sam asked. "Information for information." Tern was smarter and more inclined to scheming than most of the guild members – he might just give Sam information.

"This," he handed a note to Sam. "In the pocked of one of the dead mens' pockets."

Sam recognized the note as Celaena's handwriting: perfect and formal. For him, it raised more questions than answers.

I sold you the guild knowing it would be in bad hands. Until I get Sam back, I've taken responsibility for purging some of the trash from your guild. – C.S.

"You didn't say she escaped Endovier. No one escapes it," Sam replied.

"She was the King's personal assassin, then she got sent to Wendlyn, then she somehow got Arobynn to will her the guild," Tern told him as briefly as possible. "Haven't seen her since and have no desire to do so."

"Is she still the King's assassin?"

Tern snorted. "No. Aelin Galathynius killed him. His son, Dorian, is the new King – far too weak to have an assassin."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, hoping she went somewhere safe – somewhere where she could live a more peaceful life.

"Now my questions," Tern told him sternly.

"I don't know where she is – I haven't seen her since I died and as far as I know she has no reason to know I'm alive. I don't know where Harding and Mullin are. I don't know how it's possible I'm alive," Sam told him. He had no reason to lie, and Tern likely knew he wouldn't get any useful information out of Sam.

"Fine," Tern said. "But know we're watching you." He turned and left the room.

As they dressed in Manon's room to leave for Rifthold, three women chatted with each other.

"No writing my initials in blood, Manon," Aelin told her.

"It's a statement," Manon replied. "I thought you wanted to make a statement."

Aelin shook her head. "A different kind of statement, like chopping off the heads of tonight's victims or something."

"Gutting them?" Manon asked.

"I did say, as Celaena, that I would like to see them strung up by their entrails for what they had done, but I don't think we can get to the chandelier without causing a disruption earlier," Aelin said thoughtfully.

"Don't forget you need to get back in a timely manner to see your parents," Lysandra added.

"Fine, Mom," Aelin joked as she playfully shoved Lysandra. "Time to go?"

"Time to go," Lysandra told her, smiling.

A/N: Already 10000 words and we're not to the dramatic rescue yet? Will Aelin's parents find out what she's doing? Will Dorian get annoyed that Manon keeps cockblocking him by sneaking off at night instead of going to his bedroom through the portal? Will Sam even get rescued? Stay tuned.