Disobedience

Dorian was on his couch in front of a warm fireplace with a book on his lap and tea on the ornate table next to him when he heard it. A loud screeching noise reminiscent of a shrill scream which made the book fall right out of his hands and for him to stand up in shook. Wide eyed, he turned to the covered glass next to his bed that led out to a spacious balcony. It was dark outside and there was a heavy patter as rain fell in big clumps unto the balcony floor.

A groan, animalistic and desperate, resounded from behind the door. Honing unto his magic in case some sort of creature burst through the glass, Dorian slowly moved the silk curtains out of the way…only to curse as a chill went through him. There was a huge hulking beast outside, one with scars peppered all over its face. It took a moment for Dorian to realize what, or rather, who it was.

Abraxos. It was Abraxos, and the beast's eyes were so wide the whites were visible. When he spotted Dorian, the wyvern groaned again, close to a mewl and scratched at the glass with an iron claw, making the sound again.

Without thinking it over twice, Dorian opened the glass door and stepped outside into the rain. "What is it? What are you doing here?" He gasped, wondering where Manon was and-

"By the Wyrd."

She was there, on the wyvern's back, unconscious and bleeding, half falling out of the saddle. The visible arm Dorian could see was slowly dripping a pool of blue blood unto the stone. For a second, Dorian was unsure what to do. Manon and him were not particularly close nor did they speak often. They had bedded each other once, when Dorian had been half out of his mind and she had been available. The product of a mutual allure and because Dorian had felt some sort of warped gratitude toward her.

Why did Abraxos bring her to him rather than her Thirteen?

The wyvern huffed in the King's direction and Dorian snapped to attention. He supposed at this moment, it didn't matter what they were-or rather were not-to each other. Taking action, he went for the leather around her legs, unhooking her from the saddle in swift motions. When she was free, he grabbed for her waist and readily carried her in his arms.

She wasn't particularly heavy, and as he headed back inside, he stole a glance at Abraxos. "Uh, stay here, be quiet, okay?"

His guards would be on their way to his room already and after he placed Manon on the bed, he went to his door and reassured the ones already posted outside his door that there was no danger, but that he needed healers. They both nodded before one of them went in search for what he asked for.

Closing the door, Dorian hurried to Manon, staring at the blood, not knowing where the worst of it originated from. The sheets were soaking through already, from both the water from the rain and her blood. He went for the brooch on her cloak and was surprised to notice it wasn't her usual red one. Whatever she had been doing involved stealth and something must have gone terribly wrong.

When he took off the soaked cloak he cursed. There were lacerations everywhere, across her stomach, her neck and arms, across her thighs. Like something with claws had attacked her. His thought process stopped despite the fact that he went for towels, anything to try and stop the bleeding. There was no doubt in his mind that she had been attacked by another witch, nothing else could get so close or produce this sort of wound pattern. Someone she trusted had attacked her, he was sure.

The worst of it was a set of four parallel cuts that ran across her left wrist and which continued unto her thigh. They were so deep he could see the muscle and parts of bone underneath. Holding back a shudder, Dorian placed the towels over the wounds, hoping that it could help slow the bleeding.

A series of knocks on the door made him let out a breath in relief and he ushered the healers in quickly who stared at the witch on the bed in hesitation. "It's fine," Dorian told them, perhaps a little too clipped, "she's a-" A what? A friend? A person he knew? A one-night-stand that he couldn't stop thinking about sometimes to the point where it made him want to pull his hair out? "She's someone I trust," he told them. "Please take care of her."

It was all it took to convince them, for the healers turned to one another and nodded before going to work on Manon, who was looking paler by the second. They were all quiet as they worked, Dorian helping out by bringing water, or more towels or bandages. They were at it for hours, the rain keeping them company as Abraxos watched from the window, his head low on the ground, like he was worried for his rider.

When it was close to four in the morning, the healers finally stopped and Dorian breathed out as he observed their handiwork. Bandages covered ninety-percent of her body, the color of them almost the same as her skin. It worried Dorian and he was surprised at the splurge of emotion. He had barely spoken to her. Even after that night, months ago when she came to the city and he had opened the glass door leading to his balcony.

It had been raw and desperate and borderline maddening, but he had needed the attention, craved it. And Manon had seemed to understand, going so far as to admit she had been curious about him too, interested in what 'the princeling' could offer.

After it happened, she had left while he fell asleep and when morning came he had wondered if it had been a dream. The King had been close to convincing himself that it had been a dream when he spotted the white strands of hair on his pillow and how the sheets were too messy to have been caused just by his usual nightmares. Her scent had lingered too, tantalizing him for the rest of the day.

He had seen her only once after that, when he finally left the castle before heading north, to a small town a few miles out. She had been nearby and Dorian followed the wyvern in the sky for a reason that baffled him to this day, much like her appearance here did now. Back then they had spoken a little and he had talked to her about the Valg prince, something he'd never opened up about to anyone before.

She had listened in carefully before telling him that she understood.

There had been no judging, no calling him out for what he did under his father's control, no pity, just silent acceptance. She had left without a single touch that time though.

The healers left close to dawn, telling him that all she needed now was bedrest and food. Turning the couch to face the bed, Dorian lay down on it before falling asleep.

…

Manon awoke into heavy murkiness, her whole body aching at the strain of her muscles when she did so. Swallowing, she breathed out at the dryness, confusion mushing her thoughts together. Opening her eyes, the witch couldn't recognize her surroundings. She was laying on something soft, a bed, but this wasn't the one in Morath.

A tilt of her head and she could see the rain outside bouncing off Abraxos, who was asleep on…on a balcony?

Realization hit her hard and fast.

Despite her many injuries, Manon sat up and bit back a bark of pain as her body howled at the movement, the brunt of it on her left thigh. Trying to ignore the agony, the witch looked around the room, recognizing the polished walls and carpeted floor, the bed she was in.

The stone castle, the glass wall.

Dorian.

He was fast asleep on a couch facing the bed, like he had been watching over her and fell asleep. His hair was messy and his clothing rumpled, the sleeves of his simple shirt, white with blue spots, pushed up over his elbows.

Why?

She turned to the wyvern, whose snout was so close to the glass it fogged whenever he breathed.

Why had Abraxos brought her here of all places?

Clutching her head with her right hand, the one that hurt less, she tried to remember what had happened. Duke Perrington. She had refused to give him a new coven. When he lost the witches he had been breeding and the otherworldly spawn they had produced he had demanded three Blackbeak covens to replace the ones he lost.

When Manon's grandmother found out her granddaughter was not being cooperative, she had been livid. To the point where she personally went to the mountain, where for the first time in her life, Manon had said no to her face. Where she inadvertently challenged her leader, one she had sworn to protect and obey, to die for.

The Matron had gone quiet, a lethal-deathly type of silence that Manon had never seen from her before.

You have grown soft.

Manon had shaken her head, frustrated by the fact that the older witch never listened. We are not tools to be used and tossed aside. We are Blackbeaks, we are-

I will kill you if you say another word.

Manon had no idea what went through her, it was as if the goddess herself had taken over her body. This is not right.

The attack had been swift, and harrowing, and unforgiving. Her grandmother had shoved her straight through the door of her room, where her shocked Second and Third had been standing next to. They had not intervened immediately, but when the Matron kept going, drawing more blood and striking deep, Asterin snapped.

Asterin…

"Oh, you're awake, good."

Manon looked away from Abraxos to meet with sapphire eyes, and the memory of their encounter flashed through her mind. She had not forgotten a single detail since that night, where she had accepted his advances because she had found him attractive, alluring. Nothing more than a commodity.

This however…

"Manon?"

She was squinting, she realized, she couldn't see well. She moved her hand to her forehead as she closed her eyes, overwhelmed like never before, unsure of what to do or say or think.

The stupid beast.

Why did Abraxos choose here?

"Hey." Manon actually startled as she realized the Prince was next to the bed, his face contorted in concern. She didn't understand the expression, it made no sense for him to be that way. "Sorry," he mumbled, leaning down so as not to crowd her. "You arrived here last night, Abraxos brought you in unconscious." She glanced at the creature from the corner of her eye. She had deduced as much.

Dorian tilted his head, his hair catching the light from the candle next to the bed. "Are you hungry? The healers said you needed food."

Manon couldn't tell what she was feeling. Her thoughts were hazy and she felt…insecure. Her Thirteen, what were they doing? Had the Matron killed them?

Just the thought made her wake up, alertness driving her senses in a motion of desperation so deep she could have sobbed. The white-haired witch hadn't realized she was trying to leave the bed until Dorian pushed her back. "Woah, wait, you're not supposed to move."

She pushed at his chest but her strength had flagged, she was so weak she couldn't move him an inch. "I have to go back," she breathed, "I have to-"

"You're hurt, badly," he bit back, still holding her, albeit careful of her wounds. "Whatever it is that happened and whatever you need to do has to wait. You are of no use to them like this."

Anger coursed through her. Blind fury that coated her vision and made a clog form in her throat. Anger at Dorian, for being stronger than she was at the moment. Anger at Abraxos for taking her here. Anger at Asterin for protecting her. Anger at her grandmother for being so blind. Anger at herself for letting it get this far.

"Hey, don't cry. It's going to be okay."

What?

"Manon."

His hands made her freeze, the warmth a startling contrast to the cold fury in her chest. He brushed away tears, tears. In a quick motion, Manon tore away from him, hurting her arm and grinding her teeth at the pain. "I need to go."

Dorian didn't respond to that, he merely stared at her. "Your grandmother did that to you, didn't she?"

She tried to swallow again, her throat burning. She welcomed the pain, grounding herself in it, concentrating on her wrath, fighting the pressure on her chest. "I made a mistake," she realized. "And it will haunt me until the end of my days." Her newfound immortality seemed more like a curse now. She was nothing if she was not a Blackbeak.

"The healers said you will recover," he told her, his voice low and slow. "But you need to stay in bed."

Looking up, Manon met his eyes again. "Water."

The tense knot on his shoulder eased, and he nodded as he went to fetch the liquid from a pitcher on the low table at the other edge of the room. "I'll get you something to eat too, alright? I'll ask the healers to bring tonics."

She ignored Dorian in favor of Abraxos, who had raised his head. He was staring at her, giving her a little nod she knew meant he was happy to see her awake.

If Asterin, or any of her Thirteen were dead…

"Here." She took the water mutely, but her grip failed her, pain lacing up her arms. Dorian held on though and she suddenly felt foolish. How could she face her grandmother, and possibly the other covens, when she could not even lift a cup? "It's okay, I got it."

"Why?" Manon asked.

"What?"

"Why are you helping me?"

Still holding the cup close to her lips, Dorian frowned…and then a small glint appeared in his eyes. "It would be a shame if I left a woman so beautiful face such a terrible fate."

Manon fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I am no woman."

He huffed, the corner of his full lips rising, perhaps at the same memory she was thinking about. "Well, you certainly felt like one." When she growled he licked his lips, his amusement clear. "Drink." She only followed his order because she was parched and needed the strength. The Prince watched carefully, tilting the cup slowly and making sure nothing spilled, going so far as to place a hand under her chin. But he was Prince no more, was he? A King now.

As he went to get more, Manon realized she had never let anyone do that before, not even when she had been close to losing her arm in those frozen mountains long ago. As she watched him, Dorian went to the door and spoke to someone outside quietly before heading back inside and getting her another drink. "I've sent for the healers, okay?"

"I need to send a message." She was unsure how or to where she would send it, but she needed something to do, anything. Dorian nodded and she blinked when he sat on the bed, extending the cup toward her mouth.

Swallowing her pride, Manon drank again.

…

Her wounds were healing so slowly, Manon realized with heavy disdain later in the day. She knew nothing of what was going on in Morath, what her Thirteen were doing, if any of them still lived. She was stuck in this stone castle with a King that kept staring at her as if unsure of what to do. After the healers helped her bathe and change-much to her chagrin-Manon lay on the couch as Dorian changed the sheets. He had called off his servants, preferring to do everything himself. Odd, but not something she would comment on.

"The mistake you said you made. What was it?"

Abraxos shook his head, his large snout sticking into the room now that the sun was out. At her request, Dorian had moved the couch next to him, so that the wyvern could sniff at her. She patted the top of his nose with her healthier hand and the wyvern blew some air on her in an action she knew meant affection. "I disagreed with the Matron."

"And she attacked you?"

"She meant to kill me."

"For disagreeing?"

She kept staring at the wyvern. "I disobeyed an order and the punishment is death even if I am her heir." Was her heir, she thought with an imperceptible flinch.

Dorian passed a hand over the sheets, a heavy frown on his face. "Is she going to hunt you?"

"Until she has a body, she will assume I am alive." So a yes.

"You can stay here for as long as you need to." Manon looked up at him only to find the King staring at the made bed. "Abraxos too." When she didn't respond he straightened. "If you need a why…I know what you did…Aelin told me. You wrote on every wall in this city to send a message to her."

"I was paying a debt," the witch clarified.

"Still." They met eyes. "You saved my life."

So this was repayment.

She supposed she could live with that.

Abraxos lifted his head, turning his long neck toward the sky. Though she wished to stand to see, Manon kept her position, trusting the wyvern as he backed out and shifted his tail.

It was a friendly.

Something bloomed in her chest, especially as she spotted two small wyverns approaching in the distance. "Dorian." Those eyes widened and Manon paused when she noticed it was the first time she had called him by his name since his ascension as King. Pushing that away she signaled to the sky. "I need to stand."

He went to step next to her, following her gaze and spotting what she saw. "Okay, slowly."

She let him hook his arm around her waist, grinding her teeth at the flashes of pain where her skin pulled. The tonics had helped, but she could still barely move. As they limped outside, the camouflaged wyverns landed on the balcony edge, squawking at Abraxos while the twin witches on them dropped down. Faline had a hand against her chest, the biggest spark of emotion she had ever shown. "Manon!"

Letting go of Dorian and placing a hand on Abraxos' flank, Manon observed her witches, searching for wounds or signs of injury. "Speak," she ordered.

Fallon gave Dorian a look, but didn't hide anything as she opened her mouth. "We managed to calm the Matron for long enough to not kill us. She has Asterin in custody however and is planning to execute her publicly on the Black Moon three days from now for protecting you."

"She had us kicked from the mountain and has sent a search party out for you," Faline finished, her eyes taking in the bandages, the healing bruises. "They will not find you here though, the rain covered your tracks."

Manon payed no mind to their stares. What mattered was that Asterin was still alive. The relief was so strong, she felt lightheaded.

Determination filled her. "I will go-"

"Now wait, you can't. You're still hurt."

All three witches turned to Dorian, who stepped back at the intensity of their stares. Fallon though, turned to Manon, "he is right."

Gold eyes flashed and Manon bared her teeth. "What?"

Fallon glanced at her leg. "You must stay here; we will handle this for now. Sorrel has a plan."

Faline gave her a look that Manon couldn't bother herself to decipher. "You are safe with him, stay here. We will come for you when there is need of a new Matron."

The words left Manon halfway speechless. "You cannot expect me to remain-"

"You are useless to us right now, Manon," Fallon stated, her words short and to the point. "You cannot fight."

Manon lowered her iron teeth, growling as she said, "You shall recover Asterin and go immediately into hiding. There are covens who will side with us. Attacking now will end in all our deaths and no change will come of it. We must plan before we strike."

The twins turned to each other, before Faline nodded. "So be it." Fallon bowed and went to her wyvern. Faline made a move to follow, but her gaze went to Dorian. "Take care of her."

Manon's hiss was drowned out by his voice. "I will." Like she was some sort of child.

Fallon cleared her throat, catching her attention. "Heal first, then act." The white haired witch didn't answer as Faline followed her sister and within the next minute they were off, their wyverns almost invisible as they reached the clouds.

Manon's claws threatened to come out as she turned to Dorian. "I will claw open your chest and eat your heart raw the next time you speak on my behalf."

He gave her a look that spoke volumes on his opinion of how unlikely that was, making her feel incompetent, weak. "You can't even drink out of a cup without help, you think you have the strength to even hold me down long enough to rip out my heart?"

As she glared he stepped toward her, handing out his hand. "You have to heal, Manon, for Asterin, right?"

She breathed out, feeling the ache of her wounds and how tired she was. There was nothing she could do. Nothing to do but wait.

So she took his hand.

I'm not sure why, but I had some trouble writing this. Hopefully, it flows as naturally as I imagined it.

On the point of how Manon and Dorian start out a possible future relationship (friendly/allied/romantic or otherwise) I came up with this scenario. I tried to make it as believable as possible, even checking back on the book a few times to get small details right. I make quite a few foreshadowing references too ;]

purpleglasseswrites: Good luck on those A levels and I don't think you understand how deeply gratifying it is to read that my chapters feel like canon, it's the best compliment I could receive.

Crescentclaw: If I can continue to satisfy your fangirling needs, I shall do so. It makes me happy to see you are content with how I portray these characters.

pomxxx: I'm glad you liked the AU and I have been thinking of writing more of the kid in the future.

Lady Elvira: Every time I read your review, I get a stupid smile on my face.

Fandomgirl1012: I hope you continue liking the series as I add more chapters!

Thank you to everyone that reviews, favorites and follows!

I hope you enjoyed!

PS: This chapter is over 3000 words, a record in this series \ ^ . ^ /