A/N: I was going to have this story be a oneshot but it didn't work out that way since people expected more and somehow that gave me plotbunnies involving the underappreciated bromance that is Manon and Aelin. I wish their relationship got more development in the books because they really have the potential to be a duo of fierce friends.

Also more Georgina because the interaction between Manon and Georgina just offers so many opportunities for Manon trying to be proper and failing epically and making things a hot mess and I appreciate that.

Also I wanted Abraxos to be cute and happy and yeah poor Abraxos I think I'm most upset that he was suffering at the end of KoA.

Disclaimer: I do not own Throne of Glass

Manon was wondering how the hell she got in this situation. She was lying in extreme pain on a bed not in the Wastes, where she would have preferred, or Rifthold, where Dorian would have liked her. No, she was lying on a bed in a large room in Orynth. A bed that was close enough to Aelin's own that she could hear Terrasen's queen swearing profusely at Rowan, Dorian, Fenrys, and any other male that dared came near her.

As Yrene, Evangeline, Lysandra, and Elide all worked to calm Aelin, Manon thought back to when this all began.

It wasn't unusual for Dorian to be out of his room when Manon arrived for a visit. Usually it was some meeting or social function she couldn't be bothered to attend. Apparently half of Adarlan's rebuilding effort was restricted to ensuring merchants were trading and businessmen were building their businesses and for whatever reason that meant socializing with them.

Sometimes she would wait, but that day in particular she had been feeling incredibly hungry. She headed out of Dorian's room in search of food. Manon walked towards the general area she assumed the kitchens would be in and sniffed out the correct path. Unfortunately, she ran into a gaggle of obnoxiously dressed women led by none other than Georgina.

"It's nice to see you Manon," Georgina greeted her.

Manon could tell by the woman's ever so slightly scrunched nose that the woman was less than happy to see her. Not only did Manon smell from being on the road, but she also knew that Georgina was still rather displeased that her son has married a witch rather than some prissy court girl.

"Would you like to join us at tea after you get cleaned up?" Geogina invited. "Dorian is out all day in Rifthold surveying the rebuilt parts of the harbor.

Manon stared at her. While Manon hated these stupid formal affairs Georgina insisted she attend, Manon knew from her days in Terrasen that 'tea' involved food, and she was hungrier than ever. "Fine."

"I'll have someone get you in an hour," Georgina told her, effectively dismissing Manon to go change. "Phillipa! Can you please help Manon prepare for tea?"

Manon watched a serving woman break away from the group and move towards her. She recognized the woman as a good friend of Aelin's, so she begrudgingly let the woman come up to her chambers.

Manon's chambers were furnished with sparse bits of expensive furniture and minimal art. She spent most of her time in Dorian's room so she hadn't felt the need to decorate with anything beyond what Georgina had placed in the room for her. In her bedroom her wardrobe contained the few sets of underclothes she owned along with her many sets of clothes both casual and battle-ready leathers. Rather than the soft sheets and pillows Dorian preferred she had furs covering her bed. The weapons Aelin had given her for Yulemas hung on her walls.

"I'm the one that takes care of this room, you know," Phillipa said. "At least you're not as messy as Aelin, but you could bother putting your dirty leathers in your laundry basket."

Manon looked at her. "I hardly use it."

"Exactly. So there's not much to complain about with you," Phillipa replied. "Now, let's see what dress you can wear to tea." She opened the large closet that had been specifically renovated for the queen.

Manon followed Phillipa inside, only to find herself surrounded by dresses and shoes. She held her face steady as she tried not to think about wearing the monstrosities someone had bought for her.

"These should be more fitting for you," Phillipa told her as she moved a curtain hiding a rack of dresses. "Aelin and Lysandra assured me you wouldn't like what Georgina picked for you, so they took it upon themselves to show me what you might prefer last time they visited. No corsets, no petticoats, and skirts easy to replace with pants in case movement is necessary. I do have to hide it so the former queen cannot toss them."

The dresses here were much more scandalous and much less fit for court: lower necklines, missing backs, less bright colors, A-line skirts. Not what Manon would prefer or even like to wear, but more bearable than whatever Dorian's mother deemed appropriate for her. Phillipa helped her sort through them until Manon chose a plain blue dress with long sleeves. There was silver embroidery to make it appear more expensive, but it was understated enough. She was pleased to see Aelin had instructed the tailor to put pockets and even a hidden knife scabbard in the skirt of the dress. Phillipa helped her lay it out before shuffling Manon into the awaiting bath.

Manon found the water comforting and the scent (one she knew Dorian bathed in) intoxicating. She had never been so happy to sit in a bathtub. Unfortunately, Phillipa had quickly scrubbed and shuffled her out of the water as soon as she determined Manon met some standard of cleanliness. She then braided Manon's still-wet hair and pinned it to her head in an intricate design – a single hair pin held it in place, which Phillipa assured her could be both quickly removed in battle and used as a weapon. Again, the idea was Aelin's doing. Manon never thought she would be so grateful to the Queen of Terrasen, yet here she was.

"And done," Phillipa sighed. She looked at the clock on the wall. "Just on time."

As if on cue a knock on the door signaled a servant was here to retrieve Manon. Phillipa opened the door to let Manon out. As Manon left she could hear Phillipa muttering something about Georgina not knowing what she got herself into. Manon cracked a bit of a smile at that.

They got to a new room of the palace. It was made of glass to show the gardens around the room while protecting its occupants from the elements. The various women of Georgina's entourage were sitting on cushioned chairs and couches. Servants put trays of tea kettles and cups on small side tables along with plates of bite-size pastries and sandwiches. Although she didn't like sweets (she did like the bitterest of chocolates), she was all too eager to grab some. It had to be the hunger of not eating.

"Oh, Manon," Georgina called. "Why don't you sit over here?"

Manon reluctantly made her way over to sit next to Georgina on a pink couch. The couch had its own coffee table of sweets and tea, solely for the current and former queen. Manon stared curiously, all too eager to grab one of the teacakes to eat. It was a strange sensation to crave something so sweet. She sat before reaching for one to stuff into her mouth. Georgina stared, but Manon didn't care. The cake was as good as she had dreamed it would be.

Georgina offered Manon some of the tea. From what she could smell and taste it was some sort of rose-flavored concoction. She tried to sip it as demurely as she'd seen Lysandra and Elide do, but failed.

The conversation began off with a copious number of introductions. Most of women Manon couldn't care less about. A few of the younger ones she bothered to pay attention to, as she suspected she would be forced to spend the most time with them. One, Rosamund, hadn't been at the wedding. Manon smirked as she could practically smell the jealousy coming off the girl. She knew Rosamund was a former lover of Dorian's, and the girl was now regretting how close she came to the crown.

"So, your highness, we've heard a lot about you but we haven't heard much from you," one of the older women asked.

"Yes, let's hear more about you," another woman agreed.

Manon stared blankly at them, not knowing what they'd like to know.

The first woman spoke up again. "What do you like to do in your free time?"

"Dorian," Manon replied. Aelin had told the joke many times to the enjoyment (or disgust, in Aedion's case) of her court. Here it hadn't gone over well. Some of the women appeared scandalized, others blushed and covered their faces. Only two appeared to be holding back laughter: Rosamund and the girl next to her. Manon had screwed up, but she couldn't say she cared much. This wasn't her court even if Dorian wished it was.

"She means to know what you do when you have time to do things you enjoy," Georgina clarified.

"Cleaning my weaponry, hunting, and riding Abraxos," Manon replied. "And Dorian." It was the truth: she didn't have much time to spare when rebuilding the witch kingdom and what time she did have was spent with Abraxos or Dorian. Apparently human women weren't frank about their sex lives, as they still appeared scandalized. Her answer would have been entirely appropriate and even a bit restrained when talking to other witches. They would have expected more details both about the act itself and about the state she left the poor man in when she was done. For ironteeth witches that usually meant dead.

One of the younger women quietly spoke up. "Do- do you mean…?"

Manon turned to look at her. "Do I mean what?"

The woman – no, girl – was brave enough to reply despite shrinking back from Manon's gaze. "D- Do you actually… you know… on top?"

"Yes, of course I ride him sometimes," Manon answered bluntly. "Any man that doesn't allow a woman to be on top when she wishes isn't worth fucking."

The older women appeared scandalized both by her sentiment and her choice of words. The younger women were, for the most part, trying to hide their interest. Manon put another tea cake into her mouth as she watched the women squirm in discomfort. She couldn't help but get some pleasure in their horror. Georgina looked much less pleased, not that Manon cared.

Finally, one of the oldest women in the room began to talk. "A woman's role in the bedroom is to-"

"Get whatever pleasure she wants for herself," Manon interripted. After a pause she realized she had forgotten something. "And her partner." When with the ironteeth witches a woman's pleasure was all she cared for. After spending enough time with Dorian, she realized how much she loved his response to her touch. She loved it so much, in fact, that she now considered it something she did for her own pleasure.

"Lie back and let her husband do what he wishes," the woman finished in a much shakier voice than she started with.

"If all a man wants to do to you is treat you like a sack of potatoes he can stick his dick in occasionally, you're better off killing him and finding another lover," Manon said. Witches wouldn't hesitate to kill a man if he even showed a hint of selfishness in bed.

Manon smirked as she saw Georgina flinch in disgust. She was queen now, and that meant the woman had to defer to her.

"I like my husband, but I wish he would be more… attentive," the woman next to Rosamund said. "So I do not wish to kill him." A few of the other women nodded in subtle agreement.

"Then force him to recognize what you want," Manon told them. "Handcuffs work well. Or telling him how bad he is at it," or as Lysandra called it the Manon strategy: bluntness.

Georgina was now squirming despite her best efforts, trying to ignore all of the inappropriate things Manon was saying for the sake of her son. "Why don't you talk to Manon about this later, ladies," she said. It would be improper of her to step on Manon's toes by outright banning the conversation, but she also didn't want it to happen at tea.

Manon looked at her.

"Speaking of such matters," Georgina transitioned, "Will we be having an heir soon?"

"No," Manon replied. "I'm not pregnant." Not having a period was somewhat normal for witches so it wasn't any indication of a pregnancy. Rather, she knew she wasn't pregnant because she hadn't had any of the symptoms she'd seen in other witches. There was no vomiting, no bloating feeling, no stomach discomfort, and no engorgement of her breasts. It was eight weeks after the wedding, so if she were pregnant, she was sure she would know by now.

"Are you trying for an heir? Dorian would like to have one," Georgina said.

Manon glared at her. It was as if Georgina didn't think she wanted a witchling. Oh, she wanted a witchling – badly. She just didn't know if it would even be possible for her with the bad track record witches had with childbearing.

A light shone behind her and Dorian appeared. He wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed the top of her head. "Oh, lay off her Mother."

Georgina looked at her son.

"Manon and I are trying to spend time together first before having a child," Dorian lied.

"How long have you been there?" Manon asked, suspecting he had disguised himself as a bug of some sort.

"I only just arrived," he told her. "I saw Abraxos overhead so I flew back to see you. You're here to pick up Yrene, aren't you?"

Manon stood up and looked at him and then back to her now empty plate of sweets. "Get me more of these and then go. I was enjoying myself."

Dorian smirked as he performed a mocking bow at her feet. "As you wish, my Queen." He stood up, took a few tea cakes from other tables to put on Manon's plate and then stole out of the room. Manon knew what that smirk meant: she would pay for this in the best way tonight.

"Where are you going with Lady Yrene?" Georgina asked.

"Elide Lochan is due to give birth to her first child soon. Yrene is the best healer in Erilea," Manon replied. "So Yrene will be there for it."

"What about her own child?"

"Chaol is smart enough to care for a child for a couple weeks, and if he isn't then I'm sure Yrene has found someone to care for it in her stead," Manon said. "At the very least Dorian can help."

After finishing her remaining tea cakes she stood up.

"I'll be going, then," she announced before sweeping out of the room to look for Dorian.

She felt the other women staring at her back, shocked, awed, and confused by their Queen. Just how she liked it.

Manon arrived in Orynth with Yrene a week before Elide's due date. While Yrene waited she carefully took something out of a pouch on her saddlebags. The pouch was heavily insulated and heated by a carefully controlled flame created by Aelin's magic. She gingerly lifted a large egg out of the pouch as Yrene watched.

Shortly after the war Abraxos had taken Manon off of one of her regular flying routes to the site of an abandoned camp. She recognized it as the last site she'd spent time at while winning over the crochans. A couple miles from the camp Abraxos landed at a hot spring. In the soft soil next to the spring he began to dig using one of his massive claws. When he saw Manon step up to help he backed off so she could dig.

She dug until she unearthed a warm blue egg. By the size she surmised it was the egg of a wyvern. Abraxos sniffed at it and made happy noises. She put an ear up to the egg and couldn't hear a heartbeat, but she could smell that the egg wasn't rotting so she gave it a chance. As she flew to the Ferian Gap and the wyvern trainers she held the egg against her body to keep it warm. They told her it could be as much as two to three years until it hatched, as they had no idea when it was laid. Until then, she knew Abraxos wanted to keep it with him so she had a pouch added to his saddle bag. Every time they landed she would let him sniff at the egg so he would know it was fine. After a year of carrying it around, she finally heard the heartbeat that let her know it might hatch one day.

Today as she put the egg to Abraxos's snout he began furiously sniffing. The happy gurgling and snorting noises he made were louder than ever. She let him keep the egg on the hay next to his face while she escorted Yrene downstairs.

As soon as they got to the main hall Aelin was upon them. She ushered Yrene over to what the woman could only describe as the fanciest infirmary she had ever seen. Three fae healers were busy making potions and tonics with materials from the well-stocked shelves while a couple young apprentices watched. Two maids waited on Elide's every need as she lay on a bed covered with pillows. Lorcan had apparently been sent outside to train with Aedion so he would stop annoying Elide.

She greeted Elide and as well as she could while the young woman was in bed, happy to see that she was healthy and grateful that she was far enough removed from any witch blood she had to be facing any serious complications of pregnancy.

Manon watched silently as Yrene began poking and prodding at Elide's belly, feeling the baby and ensuring it was in the correct position to be born. She listened as Yrene assured Elide that everything was going smoothly. She wondered if the same would be said about any pregnancy she would be lucky enough to have.

Halfway through the examination she left to return to Abraxos, needing to clear her head. When she arrived Abraxos was still carefully watching the egg. A year ago, she had heard the first heartbeat from the egg, and today it was stronger than ever. She knew Abaxos could hear it as well. He kept tilting his head at the egg to hear better. Manon herself heard faint movement in the egg from the small wyvern, but nothing more than she'd heard before. She sat there, listening to the egg with Abraxos for some time.

After the sun set a noise came from the door of the aerie. She turned to see Aelin stride into the room holding a plate of warm food. For good measure Aelin had also brought an assortment of chocolate. While Manon usually would eat nothing but the bitter stuff, Aelin had always brought some sweet chocolate along as well. These talks usually happened in Manon's designated guest room one floor below, tonight Aelin was content to plop herself down in the straw.

Manon sniffed at the queen. "Why the heavy perfume today?"

"As soon as I had a hint I sent Rowan off for a diplomatic visit to Doranelle, but he's due back any day now," Aelin answered. She popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth.

"A hint?"

"I'm pregnant," Aelin said. "Confirmed by the fae healers and now Yrene."

Manon turned to face her.

"I don't want to… You know," Aelin continued. "If I lose the child, I don't want it to affect Terrasen. I don't want there to be any more loss for any of us so soon after the war."

Manon watched as Aelin gently placed a hand on her stomach. If she were pregnant, she was sure she would be feeling the same. There was such a high chance of losing the child that it would be pointless to hope for anything at this point in the pregnancy.

"I wish I didn't have to worry so damn much about this. I haven't even told anyone but my most trusted fae healer," Aelin said.

"When were you going to tell your Consort?" Manon asked.

"I don't know. I should've already," Aelin sighed. Manon understood why Aelin hadn't told Rowan yet, but she knew it would help the queen to do so. "I'll do it after I talk to Yrene tonight."

They sat in silence, eating chocolate as they ruminated on pregnancy among their kinds for a moment.

"Have you told Dorian yet?"

"Told Dorian what?"

"Well, your scent has changed since the wedding, and I assume you took the same fertility potion I did that night. Paired with your new found craving for the sweeter chocolates I like," Aelin said. "I'd say at the very least you should have Yrene look at you."

"I'm not pregnant," Manon replied.

"What if you are?" Aelin said.

"I'm not."

"Come to see Yrene with me tonight," Aelin suggested.

"Fine," Manon agreed out of the small amount of hope she suddenly allowed herself to have. She grabbed another chocolate and popped it into her mouth. "I'll go."

After finishing the chocolates the two queens stalked down the hall towards Yrene's guestroom. Without knocking Aelin let herself in. Yrene sat on her bed nose-deep in a book Aelin had lent to her. She looked up as if she were hardly surprised to see the women in her doorway.

"Come in," she beckoned as she put the book down. "I won't bite."

Aelin closed the door behind her and Manon before plopping herself onto the bed. "I'm pregnant, Yrene."

Yrene looked as if she was torn between congratulating Aelin and looking concerned. "You took the potion the night of Manon's wedding, correct?" Yrene asked her.

"As soon as we could get out of the banquet hall," Aelin snorted.

Yrene nodded and lay her hands over Aelin's stomach. They began to glow with her magic. "It certainly feels that way. It's been nine weeks since the wedding, correct?"

"That is correct," Manon confirmed.

"When was the start of your last period?"

"Months ago," Aelin replied.

"Well, if we add two weeks to that to account for the egg development pre-fertilization, and that matches with where the baby is developmentally," Yrene said.

"So what does that mean?" Aelin asked.

"It means you're eleven weeks into a healthy pregnancy," Yrene replied.

"And the baby?"

"Perfectly healthy," Yrene said.

Relief spread over Aelin's face as she sat up. "I- is there a chance I'll miscarry?"

"For fae I've heard the problem is mostly with conception. If you keep the pregnancy past twelve weeks and get checked frequently by the healer for any complications, you'll likely be okay after that," Yrene told her.

"But before twelve weeks?"

"Fae have a high rate of miscarriages," Yrene told her.

"How about the birth?"

"Just tell me and I'll be there. If it's too sudden any of the fae healers you have in Orynth should be able to help you until I arrive," Yrene told her.

Aelin sighed in relief. "They told me I can still train?"

"Well, no contract drills or anything dangerous, but running and weapons drills should be fine," Yrene told her.

Manon was amused to see that Aelin was almost more relieved by that information than anything else she'd heard.

"Can you check Manon as well?" Aelin asked.

Yrene looked surprised. "You're pregnant?"

"She seems to think so," Manon answered.

"But you don't," Yrene guessed. "Well, better to check while I'm here. Lay down next to Aelin."

Manon reluctantly did as Yrene told her. She felt Yrene's magic probing her belly in search of a witchling. After a torturous few minutes Yrene's power withdrew.

"You are pregnant," Yrene told her. "Also very healthy and also at around eleven weeks."

Manon's heart sped up. As she bolted upright she sat speechless, choosing instead to stare out the window. "I- I'm… pregnant." She paused, staring at her hands and stomach in wonder.

"Unlike for fae and humans, witches have a high rate of miscarriage after the twelve-week mark, correct?"

Manon nodded. "But it seems like lifting the curse on the wastes has eased that rate significantly."

"Petrah was telling me that, but also asked me to help the bluebloods mass produce a substance they've been using to prevent stillborns." Yrene moved to take a bottle out of one of her bags. "At least some of the witchling stillbirths are caused by the magic passed down from a fae ancestor being snuffed out in utero by the iron in the mother's blood. For whatever reason that only becomes a problem after the twelve-week mark."

Manon stared at the bottle as Yrene handed it to her.

"That potion will neutralize the iron in your blood in order to protect your child, but you must take one drop every day of pregnancy for it to work, so you'll need to ration it" Yrene told Manon. "Petrah doesn't quite know if it will prevent all, or even the majority of, stillbirths, but she hopes it will help you out given Dorian's powers."

Manon nodded. "Should I stay on bedrest?"

Yrene looked at her.

"It is what witches do to prevent miscarriage or stillbirth," Manon told her. She didn't mention what Yrene surely already knew: that it didn't work. Although Manon knew as much she was raised into that practice and was somewhat indoctrinated to follow it.

"No. In fact, like Aelin, you should probably remain as active as you are now for the health of the child," Yrene told her. "But also like Aelin, you should not do anything that could cause you bodily harm: no fighting, no biting, no contact drills."

"And we can have sex," Aelin added.

Yrene nodded. "Although you run the risk of it leading to labor towards the end of your pregnancy."

"Right now it's fine, though," Aelin ignored Yrene. "And if I'm desperate to have the baby out by the end I'll use your warning to my advantage."

Yrene smiled at Aelin, but Manon could see a sigh on Yrene's lips as she watched Aelin smirk. Both looked over to the much quieter Manon.

"I know it's a lot to think about," Yrene said as she grabbed Manon's hand. "But I know how happy you'll be to have a witchling. Why don't you go rest?"

Manon didn't bother to look at Yrene before she quietly slipped out of the door.

Less than a day later Elide was already in the early stages of labor. Aelin was doing her best to keep Lorcan in check as he tried to fuss over Elide. Although Elide could certainly do plenty to keep Lorcan from annoying her, when a contraction hit she couldn't do enough to keep him away. That's where Aelin came in: to distract him with verbal jabs at him so harsh he couldn't ignore them.

Manon chose to watch at a distance. She would not hold Elide's hand or watch the baby crown. She wouldn't engage with Lorcan no matter how fussy he got. All she could do was to offer her presence as she wondered if she would even make it to this point in her own pregnancy. She wanted a witchling badly and now that she was so close to having one every thought of her losing the baby became harsher.

When the loud cry of the baby pierced the silence of the room Manon moved a bit closer to get a peek. Yrene and the fae healers assisting in the birth took the child to dry it off and inspected it carefully. When they determined it was healthy they attempted to hand the child to Lorcan. Aelin, insisting the male was too fussy to be useful, told them to give the squirming bundle to Manon. Hesitantly, Manon reached her arms out to grab the now-swaddled baby. She stared into its bleary eyes and didn't know what to do. She wanted to smile and congratulate Elide, but she couldn't. Holding this dark-haired child in her arms only made her more desperate to have a successful pregnancy. She began to wonder if her witchling would have dark hair like this one or inherit her own pale locks.

"Manon," Elide's voice cut through her thoughts. "Can you bring her over here?"

Manon tried to hand the child to its mother, but Elide insisted she continue holding the bundle until Yrene had finished up her work delivering the placenta and healing any tears.

"She's beautiful," Elide said as she stared at the newborn. "I never thought…" She looked at Lorcan, who was twitching angrily as he waited to hold his child. "I never thought I would be this happy. If not for you, Manon, this might not have happened."

Manon blinked, not knowing how to respond. She felt oddly touched by Elide's words. Despite her swirling feelings in regards to her own pregnancy, Manon finally smiled. If she could help bring something this beautiful into Elide's world, maybe fate would reward her with a witchling of her own.

With Manon and Aelin agreeing that Lorcan was still too fussy to hold the child, she handed it off to Elide first. Despite her peace with the birth, seeing this scene brought back all the doubts Manon had felt earlier. She quickly excused herself from the room with a promise to return when the family was ready for visitors and ran up the tower to Abraxos. The wyvern wrapped a wing around her reassuringly when she arrived and huffed at her, leaving her to her thoughts.

As she sat under Abraxos's wing she wondered if she should follow the tradition of the blackbeaks. Yes, Yrene knew far more about pregnancy than any witch did, but maybe her information on witch pregnancy was incorrect. Maybe she should stay in bed, even if it was apparently less healthy to do so. If Aelin was trusting Yrene as much as she was, Manon knew she probably should too, but it was hard to break with the tradition and logic she was raised under.

That brought up another issue: should she stay in the Wastes for her pregnancy under the care of her fellow witches? She knew ironteeth tradition but not crochan ones. Maybe her crochan relatives would be able to handle a witch pregnancy well. But that would mean not seeing Yrene, and as conflicted as she was about it she did trust Yrene's judgement enough to want her around. Past a certain point she would not be able to make the trip between Rifthold and the Wastes, so she would need to decide where she was to give birth before that time. If she made it that far. And if she did make it that far, she'd be set to deliver around the time Aelin was, which would mean Yrene would be in Orynth, so if she wanted Yrene to deliver her child she would have to do so away from both kingdoms she had a claim to. But maybe it would be better that way because it would provide a neutral site for an heir to either kingdom's birth.

After two hours of thought a knock on the doorway to the aerie turned her attention back to reality. She stood up and patted Abraxos on the head before moving to see who it was. Abraxos's attendants didn't tend to knock. They were too tired from carrying the massive slabs of meat up to the aerie to bother. No, this had to be someone else.

Manon opened the door and was surprised to see Lysandra. The shapeshifter had been busy building her new spy school in her territory and was unsure if she could attend the birth.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it for the birth," Lysandra said. "There were matters to finish and the baby was in such a hurry to arrive that there was no way to help it."

"Hello, Lysandra," Manon replied.

"Now that I've met the baby I wanted to come see you," Lysandra told her. "Elide and Aelin said they were concerned?"

After spending a few months of taking down all of Terrasen's human traffickers and madams she had finally assembled all of the former courtesans, prostitutes, and apprentices into one place a little over a year ago. Since then she had hired Nox Owen and several members of the Bain to train all of them in the art of spying both to help Terrasen and to take down any other human trafficking and slave operations.

As a goodwill gesture she had even sent the first two graduates to Rifthold to assist Manon and Dorian: one to monitor the activity in Rifthold's underworld and one to keep Manon and Dorian informed on every detail of every member of their court. While Lysandra herself had provided Manon and Dorian with much helpful information about the nobility that had survived the war, she could not speak to new developments and new members of the court, hence the need for a new spy. So far she had proved herself every bit as useful as Lysandra despite the lack of shapeshifting magic.

Although Elide and Aelin were two of Manon's closest confidants and advisors on political matters, Lysandra was much more useful for matters of relationships. In fact, Manon was surprised to find she preferred talking to Lysandra rather than Aelin about personal matters.

She first discovered this when the three were eating chocolate and drinking wine together one night. In coming to terms with her past as a courtesan, Lysandra had become more open about talking about sex recently and was eager to help her friends out.

Manon was hesitant to admit that she didn't know as much about sex as Dorian, given that she had only ever learned the witches' ways of sex: dominating whatever man was unlucky enough to cross their path. In her quest to not admit that weakness to Dorian, she had tried to learn what she could from books, but that well of ideas had quickly dried up. So when the topic of sex came up, Manon was curious. Lysandra somehow immediately knew the source of her curiosity and began to discuss sex with her. All of Lysandra's tips, tricks, and advice over the past couple of years had worked like a charm in bed, and Lysandra was always happy to offer more.

The only time Manon had refused advice was before the wedding when a very drunk Lysandra offered to demonstrate how to eat a woman out properly on a very drunk Aelin. The next morning Lysandra apologized profusely for her poor joke and proceeded to spend the day telling Manon about various things she could do to Dorian if he ever chose to use a female form in bed.

Even on more mild topics Lysandra had proven a great resource. Whether Manon was struggling with her feelings or wondering how to communicate with Dorian or her witch family Lysandra had always provided good advice. In this case talking with Aelin about their shared doubts had helped her immensely, but she needed someone to vent to, someone who was not facing the same problem. In that respect, Lysandra had shown up at the perfect time.

"I'm pregnant," Manon said. "I'm afraid I might lose it before I get to experience what Elide did."

Lysandra sat next to her in the hay. "Surely you've talked to Aelin about it?"

"Yes," Manon replied.

"I just had this same discussion with her two weeks ago when she was visiting me," Lysandra told Manon. "I think it would be wise for you to keep in contact with her throughout everything. Are you going to tell Dorian?"

Manon looked at the ground. "I suppose I'll need to."

"Although I think Aelin and you will need each other, if only to have someone to relate to, I think it will be important to keep Dorian at your side," Lysandra told her. "Relationships may not be a big thing for witches, but having a partner would be good if something does happen – good or bad."

Manon looked up at Lysandra.

"If it's bad, he'll talk to you and make sure you're okay. Aelin, Elide, Yrene, and I will as well, but he'll help you get through things in a way we can't," Lysandra stated. "And if it's good you'll want someone to share the joy of a baby with, or someone to stay up at night with the child when it won't go to bed."

"But where will I even birth it – if I make it that far?"

"Yrene will likely be here in Orynth, but ultimately it's your choice," Lysandra said. "Though Orynth may be a good choice so that the location of the birth won't determine what land lays claim to the child as its heir."

"The child will be heir to both," Manon said. "It's unlikely we'll conceive a second."

"But you conceived a first," Lysandra encouraged. "And that's what matters."

Manon cracked a small smile. "I suppose I should inform Dorian of that, then."

"I suppose you should," Lysandra replied, matching the other woman's smile.

Manon flew hard for Rifthold, equally nervous and eager to tell Dorian her news. Yrene was equally eager to return to her husband and child, so she held on for dear life with no complaints as Abraxos raced through the skies. Even on Abraxos it had taken three days to make it within reach of Adarlan's capital.

With the buildings of the city in reach Manon forced herself to put on a stony expression of indifference. Dorian would be the only one to know of her pregnancy until she was forced to share. Hollin was still something of a brat, although Dorian claimed he had "gotten better." Georgina would be far too obnoxious once she heard. The other ladies of the court – well, Manon could care less. Of course the witches would be informed once she made her way back to the wastes, but they were not so petty and frivolous as Adarlan's court and would not gossip about it – least of all to Georgina.

Instead of landing on top of Dorian's tower as was his habit, Abraxos landed next to the newly installed Wyvern barn on the castle grounds. The barn was as massive as the great hall of the castle, but had added quarters for the newly minted and trained wyvern patrol officers and trainers. All had gone through a grueling year of training at the hands of the Rukhuin, the witches, and occasionally Manon herself, and all were terrified of her as a result.

Manon had hand selected all of the twelve young wyverns used by the patrol. All were chosen for their ability to be easily trained, but also for their vicious temperament in battle. Dorian laughed when he saw that out of battle most were closer to Abraxos in temperament: like dogs. Manon continued to remind him that they were deadly creatures, but he never seemed convinced. In reality, Manon had chosen them knowing they were like Abroxos knowing they would be more likely to allow humans to ride them into battle (and good breeding stock to create many future Abraxoses for her own offspring to bond with).

Naturally, Abraxos was comfortable cohorting with these wyverns – not as comfortable as he had been with the wyverns of the thirteen – but enough that Manon didn't feel awful about leaving him with them for a day or two while she spent time in Dorian's bed. It didn't explain why he was going to them now instead of his aerie above Manon and Dorian's rooms that he preferred to sleep in.

Abraxos landed carefully and stayed still just long enough for Manon and Yrene to dismount. He immediately began to snort at the pouch holding the egg. Manon took the egg out of the pouch for Abraxos to see while Yrene watched. She inspected what she could of the egg and listened. The heartbeat in the egg and the movement were both louder than ever – a good sign, but one she didn't know what to do with.

Abraxos walked into the barn and claimed a spot in the center where all of the other wyverns could see him from where they were resting. The wyverns' riders were all presumably in their quarters, as none were in the barn itself. Abraxos nodded his head to a pile of hay and Manon placed the egg down carefully. Manon sat and stared at the egg and her beloved Wyvern.

"Would you like me to get Dorian?" Yrene asked her.

Manon nodded, entranced by the scene. Abraxos was not making gurgling noises in happiness, but rather staring intently at the egg as small cracks appeared in the shell. She didn't note the passage of time until Adarlan's king wrapped his arms around her back and kissed her neck.

"Welcome home, witchling," he purred into her hair.

Manon put a finger on his lips. "It's hatching," she whispered.

Dorian sat next to her in silence, watching with his wife as the cracks grew large enough for a small spiked tail to emerge from the egg. Abraxos only lent one small happy gurgle to the tail, anticipating seeing more of the hatchling.

"Princeling," Manon said softly as she stared at the egg. She softly placed a hand on her abdomen, but quickly removed it.

"Yes?" Dorian asked.

The tail of the hatchling was hitting the shell frantically as the spikes continued to weaken the shell.

Manon didn't know how to tell Dorian the news – or even if she should tell him. Although she didn't understand Aelin's hesitation to tell Rowan at the time, now she understood it.

"Witchling?" Dorian asked.

Manon still couldn't spit out the truth. Dorian's pet name for her paired with her current state made her blush slightly. She hoped it wasn't enough to give anything away.

"Manon?"

"Witchling…" Manon mumbled as she watched chunks of eggshell fall away from the small wyvern. She again placed a hand on her stomach, but this time Dorian was watching before she could move her hand away.

"Do you want to try again?" Dorian asked – not overly eager or seductive this time, but rather soft and understanding.

Manon stared at him.

"Georgina told me you weren't pregnant. I knew the potion wasn't a sure thing, but," Dorian told her.

"There's no need to try again," Manon said softly, not looking at him.

"I know it's hard, but I'm always willing to-"

"No," Manon stopped him. "What I mean is I am pregnant. Right now. Eleven weeks – almost twelve now – if Yrene is correct."

Dorian paused and stared harder at Manon. "You're – with a witching? Really?"

Manon stared at him, if only to shut him up, and returned to staring at the egg. Dorian could tell she didn't want to talk about it right now, so he shut up and pulled Manon into his lap. They remained silent as they watched the tiny navy-blue wyvern hatch over the next hour. The silence was only broken when Abraxos awoke the other wyverns with a cry of pride and victory at the hatching of the only child he would have with Narene.

Abraxos finally looked over at Manon while making the loudest happy noises Manon imagined he could. He nudged the hatchling towards Manon. The tiny wyvern was trying to walk clumsily on its two legs, but the sticky yolk left over from its egg was attracting too much hay. Manon took a cloth out of one of Abraxos's saddlebags and began to wipe the hatchling off.

Once the hatchling was dry, Abraxos retreated to his seldom-used stall at the back of the barn. The hatchling managed a few clumsy steps now that it was less addled by hay, but Manon still felt it necessary to carry the hatchling to the stall. Dorian smiled as he watched Manon cuddle up with the hatchling and Abraxos.

"What?" She asked Dorian.

"You already look like a proud mother," Dorian said. "Smiling and looking down at the hatchling like that."

Manon snorted indignantly. "How else would I look at a perfectly bred wyvern?"

Dorian chuckled. "Do you want to get you some food? A late dinner perhaps?"

"Yes, and some for Abraxos as well," Manon told him. "And don't tell your mother."

"About the new wyvern?"

"About the witchling," Manon replied.

It was the first time in a long time that Manon's gaze scared him, but he supposed she was right to be overprotective of their child. Still, he tried to play off his terror. "Of course, Manon. I won't tell her."

Abraxos hadn't wanted to return to the witch kingdom because of the hatchling, and that meant Manon wouldn't be heading back to the witch kingdom either. She was getting rather antsy. She had been practicing combat drills with whoever dared join her – usually Chaol. Dorian, having become obnoxiously overprotective, had to be kept in the dark about any training she did. Manon found herself becoming overprotective enough that she herself was going to Yrene obsessively to check in.

Around her sixteenth week, when her bump was becoming visible, Manon had had enough. She had been forced to wear loose clothing to hide the bump so that Georgina and the other ladies wouldn't notice, and Dorian had finally convinced her to maybe spend more time inside resting. So one day while Dorian was away she left him a note as she usually did before she left. She hopped onto Abraxos and took the hatchling into her arms.

A day after she arrived in the witch kingdom Dorian showed up, clearly exhausted from the pursuit.

"Manon," He gasped as soon as he had transformed back into his human form in front of her.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Are you – are you okay? The baby?"

"Of course," Manon replied. She turned to enter her castle. "I was sick of being in Rifthold. I'll visit before the witchling is born."

Dorian grabbed her and turned her around to kiss her. "Just – tell me next time, okay?"

Manon didn't respond. She simply walked inside. Dorian followed her to her chambers to rest, only to find that Manon's Crocan relatives were already inside. He was surprised to watch as they fussed over her in a way Dorian didn't realize witches could fuss. They hadn't noticed him when they began to help her shed her clothes and don her sleepwear: the shirt Aelin had "given him" to celebrate Manon's coronation – one she promptly stole. It was only later that he realized she slept better surrounded by his scent. Not that he wasn't still slightly bitter about losing such a nice shirt.

He made himself known once Manon was settled by throwing off his outer layers of clothes and settling next to Manon.

"Are you still scared?" He asked her.

"Of what?" Manon asked him as she turned to face him.

"The pregnancy," Dorian said.

Manon didn't reply. She had already sent letters to Aelin, Yrene, and Elide expressing her fears. Somehow she didn't know if she could discuss the fear of a witch pregnancy with Dorian, no matter how much she felt inclined to.

Dorian tried to lighten the mood, sensing she was unwilling to talk. "My mother?"

Manon snorted. "No, of course not."

"She's upset you aren't pregnant yet," Dorian told her. "And lamented that I should be trying harder."

"You certainly could've tried harder," Manon replied. "You only managed one round that night, as I recall. Though it did work."

Dorian chuckled. "Just don't tell Aelin that. I'll never hear the end of it." For added humor he paused. "You didn't tell her already, did you?"

"No," Manon replied. "I told Lysandra."

"Just as bad," Dorian sighed dramatically. "When are you going to tell Mom?"

"About your poor efforts to conceive?"

Dorian tried not to laugh. "No, about the witchling."

"In a few months," Manon said vaguely. "Glennis wants me here while I'm pregnant, and Abraxos wants to stay put with the hatchling."

"And you don't want to tell my mother? I could do it, and then neither of us would have to deal with her nagging – you because you're here and me because she can't nag me about getting you pregnant if you are pregnant," Dorian said.

"I don't want to tell her and then lose the witchling," Manon told him. "Even with the iron binding potion there's a chance. Glennis won't stop reminding me of that. But I do need to go back in three months to see Yrene, and then take her to Orynth to for the birth."

"So you are giving birth in Orynth?" Dorian said.

"Unless you want me to give birth here that is where it has to happen," Manon said. "So there is a healer that can handle complications."

Dorian held her tighter. "It will be fine."

Manon didn't respond. All should could do was try to convince herself to be as confident as Dorian.

At 32 weeks Manon finally returned to Rifthold, albeit under the cover of nightfall so no one would see her arrive. Dorian was surprised but happy to see her – and relieved to see that she and the baby were still healthy. Abraxos's hatchling had managed to fly a short ways each day, but spend the rest with Manon on Abraxos's back. Because of that he had become attached to Manon and insisted on coming to Dorian's room. Now that he was too large for Manon to hold, Dorian tried to keep him in the aerie with his father, but the hatchling insisted on following his "mother." That night it took both Manon and Dorian to herd him back to the aerie before they went to bed.

The next morning Yrene came up the tower to discretely see Manon in the morning. Dorian was already up for his morning run with Chaol (a tradition he had taken up after the war both for stress relief and to make himself a more capable fighter).

"Are you feeling okay?" Yrene asked Manon as she lifted up her nightgown for Yrene to examine her stomach.

"Tired," Manon said.

"You only have two months left," Yrene reminded her. "Well, but it's still tiring after that. Just in a different way."

"Is the baby okay?" Manon asked.

"Perfectly healthy, if a bit stronger than one would expect a fetus to be. Are the kicks painful?" Yrene asked.

Manon shook her head. "I've felt worse."

"Is that normal for witchlings, to have strong kicks?"

"I don't know," Manon said. She didn't – she hadn't seen too many witch pregnancies up close and personal.

"Well, it doesn't matter, since it means the baby is alive and healthy," Yrene smiled. "Would you like to get lunch out in the city with me while our husbands wear themselves out? I don't have anything to do today unless an emergency occurs."

Manon reluctantly nodded.

"I brought you clothes," Yrene said, "As I assumed you wouldn't have maternity clothing here."

Lunch soon turned to shopping for maternity clothing and baby goods. Manon was too exhausted to care about being seen when she returned to the palace.

"Manon?" A voice called behind her.

Manon knew it was the queen immediately, but chose to ignore her and return to Dorian's room. The queen could wait until tomorrow. Or so Manon thought.

Dorian came back that night looking positively exasperated. "Mother knows you're pregnant. She wants to know why you didn't tell her."

Dorian flopped onto the bed. "But I didn't tell her why. It's none of her business."

"Another reason to give birth in Orynth," Manon said.

Suddenly a knock sounded on the door. Dorian sighed and got up to answer the door. "Hello, mother."

"I'm here to see Manon," Georgina said as she pushed past her son. She appeared in the door to Dorian's bedroom, unconcerned that Manon wore nothing more than a thin nightgown.

"How is the child doing?" Georgina asked. "How far along are you?"

"The witchling," Manon corrected. "Is fine." She said before flinching. The witchling had awoken and was now proceeding to kick her stomach again.

"You'll be giving birth here? You must be far too pregnant to travel now," Georgina asked.

"No, in Orynth," Manon answered, unphased by the queen's excitement.

"Orynth? This is a child of Adarlan!"

"And the wastes," Dorian added. "The Queen of Terrasen is due to give birth the same week as Manon, and Yrene will be attending her birth. Manon and I want Yrene to deliver the child, so we will be going to Orynth."

"If I recall, Yrene is a citizen of Adarlan, not Terrasen."

"No, but she did promise to birth Aelin's child far before Manon and I got married, so Aelin takes precedent," Dorian said. "We also don't know if the child will be heir to Adarlan, the wastes, or both, and therefore it would be more appropriate to birth it on neutral ground."

"It would be more appropriate to birth her in Adarlan," Georgina argued.

"If this is about you attending your first Grandchild's birth, I suggest you make arrangements for a trip to Orynth," Dorian said. "Good night, mother. As you know, Manon needs her rest."

"Fine, then," Georgina said. "But I expect you to attend tea every day until you leave, Manon." She closed the door.

Manon waited until the door was closed before talking. "I should set out for Orynth tomorrow."

"That may be advisable, as you are getting too pregnant to travel by wyvern," Dorian said. "As much as I hate to admit it. I can fly Yrene over in six weeks."

Manon stood up. "Fine."

"It will be for the best," he said, kissing her.

It took Manon a week to reach Orynth this time as she needed frequent breaks to relieve and reposition herself for comfort. Watching the hatchling had also made her much more tired than she otherwise would have been. Even with all the breaks she felt about ready to collapse when she reached Orynth. From the tower she could see an equally pregnant Aelin finishing a run. Noticing Abraxos's tail hanging off the side of his aerie, Aelin called up to Manon and asked her to come down. Manon grabbed the hatchling and moved towards the stairs, but Abraxos was there first. He bent down to let her get onto his back and flew her down to the trailhead.

Aelin walked up to Manon, one hand on her lower back. "You're lucky I could only run two miles today. Otherwise I wouldn't have been here to greet you."

Manon looked at her. "Somehow that would have been more ideal."

Aelin looked at the miniature wyvern in Manon's arms. "Who's that?"

"Abraxos and Narene's son," Manon told her.

Aelin reached out to pat the hatchling on the head, but stopped when she noted Abraxos getting anxious. "How's the big guy?"

Manon stared blankly. "Abraxos or Dorian?"

Aelin laughed. "Abraxos. I'm sure Dorian's fine. That or ready to escape Rifthold once and for all."

"He's fine," Manon responded.

"Happy about the hatchling?"

"Disappointed it can't fly far yet. The trainers said it might be a year or two before he's strong enough to fly a full day," Manon replied.

"How long are you staying here?"

"Until I give birth," Manon replied.

"Georgina that awful?"

"If Dorian didn't want her alive," Manon stared.

"I would have killed her a long time ago," Aelin said. "She's obnoxious. But ultimately harmless. How's the witchling?"

"Kicking far too much," Manon said. "It's hard to sleep."

"It's their fathers," Aelin concluded. "They are taking after their fathers."

Manon looked at Aelin's stomach. "Yours as well?"

"Yes, and the buzzard knows its his fault," Aelin said. "But since I've been running every morning it's been helping. And, of course, wrecking one practice dummy a day. Or beating up the cadre."

Manon blinked.

"They can't fight back, it's too dangerous for the baby," Aelin said as if it was obvious. "So they can only play defense, which they aren't good at."

Manon doubted that, but doubted that Aelin would let them off easy even moreso.

"May I join in?"

"Of course. A pregnant woman does require exercise," Aelin said.

As if on cue, Rowan appeared out of an archway in the courtyard wall. "Did you really go for another run this morning, Aelin?"

"Why shouldn't it?"

"The healers said you need to rest more – only one run per day," Rowan told her.

"I'll be fine," Aelin said, kissing him and patting one of his pectorals. "But that's beside the point – I need to show Manon here to her rooms. She's had a long trip."

Rowan sighed in exasperation as Aelin walked by him. Manon gave him a smirk and followed.

Dorian had finally arrived in Orynth with Yrene almost to the day Aelin and Manon's 39th week of pregnancy began. Yrene was hoping neither had given birth yet, but was relieved to know fae healers were available if they were needed. Dorian was less assured, but knew it was necessary to leave late both because of his business in Adarlan and because Yrene had found out that she was pregnant as well – only eight weeks, but enough that she wanted to make arrangements for herself so she wouldn't need to travel using Dorian's wyvern form.

When they arrived Fenrys ushered them to a study overlooking the training yard. Rowan was sighing as he stared out a window. Despite it being before noon, the king already had a glass of wine in his hand. Yrene had insisted on going to the healers first thing to discuss Aelin and Manon's conditions. Dorian walked over to the window to see what Rowan was staring at.

Out in the courtyard Manon and Aelin were using practice swords to brutally attack practice mannequins. He could see Manon trying not to use her claws.

"I've been trying to get them to stay inside and eat chocolate like they were last week," Rowan said. "They're pregnant, they need to rest."

Dorian knew why Rowan was being overprotective, but knew it was better to choose his battles. "You know we can't make them do anything."

"Unfortunately," Rowan said.

"Why are they doing that? With practice swords nonetheless?" Dorian asked.

"It started as Aelin's way to deal with her frustration of the physical symptoms of pregnancy. She dragged Manon into it as well. Since they're too far along to spar with actual humans or fae they need to use dummies, and that meant using practice swords, as there's only so many hits with an actual sword a dummy can take.

Dorian sighed and sat in a chair opposite Rowan. "Well, if they're feeling well enough to do that, we know their pregnancies are going well."

"Yes," Rowan said. "The fae healers haven't had any concerns about either one of them or either child. Aelin in particular has been overeager to give birth already. Although she's not one to believe in them, she's been going through every old wives' tale possible."

"Is Manon the same?"

"No. Aelin said she's extremely concerned about actually giving birth, so she wants it to happen as naturally as possible," Rowan told him.

"Witch births are very dangerous," Dorian said. He frowned as he reminded himself of the stakes.

"Well, if needed we have many talented healers to help," Rowan said, obviously not reassured by his own words.

Dorian looked out the window at the two queens. "Surely the healers can't approve of this?"

"The healers have been supportive of exercise, and this is apparently exercise," Rowan said. "Although I'm not sure how much of what's actually going on they know about."

"That's too bad," Dorian said. "If they knew, maybe they'd say it was bad for the pregnancy and then they would stop."

"I've had to employ Lysandra and copious amounts of chocolate in the meantime," Rowan told Dorian. "For some reason Manon has developed a taste for it now that she's pregnant. Luckily Lysandra knows were to buy in bulk."

"That can't possibly keep them occupied for that long," Dorian sighed.

"Aelin's still running the kingdom as much as possible. She refuses to rest, but I've at least convinced her that she only needs attend meetings in Orynth rather than traveling for her annual survey of the kingdom. In her free time she's doing this and eating chocolate, or complaining about pregnancy to Manon and Lysandra."

"And Manon?"

"She's been going to the library to research witch pregnancies as much as possible," Rowan told him. "Of course Lysandra has also dragged her out for shopping trips. Aelin sometimes goes with, but mostly it's them. She's also spending time with Abraxos watching the hatchling learn to fly and visiting the monument to the thirteen."

Dorian nodded. "But she's been okay."

"I would've told you if she wasn't," Rowan told them. "As I know you would tell me if something was wrong with Aelin."

Dorian nodded. "I hope we can get this over with as well. We may not be the pregnant ones, but I worry about Manon."

"And we might not have to deal with this behavior," Rowan said.

"No, we will. We definitely will," Dorian replied. "They'll be out fighting and building their kingdoms and we'll be here babysitting."

Rowan laughed. "I don't know. Manon will be too attached to her witchling to leave it with you."

"She'll have to at times," Dorian said.

"How are you so sure about that?"

"I'm not," Dorian replied. "But my mother is."

They both looked out the window as they heard metal hit metal. Aelin had torn up the dummy enough to get down to the metal support.

"We should stop them," Dorian said.

"Give them a few more minutes," Rowan replied. "Then we can try to convince them to rest."

Less than a week later Manon awoke with a cramping pain in her back. It wasn't the worst pain she'd felt, and if it hadn't come on so quickly she would've thought it was more of the same soreness she'd had from her stomach being so large, but she knew something was happening.

After the pain subsided, she managed to slip out of bed without Dorian noticing and hastily slipping on the maternity dress she had finally been forced to wear due to her growing belly. Manon could tell it was near midnight, with the moon high in the sky over Orynth. She found her way to Yrene's guestroom by scent alone and opened the door without bothering to knock.

Manon sat nervously in a chair as Yrene slowly got out of bed. Yrene lit a lamp before slowly walking over to the witch queen.

"What's wrong, Manon?" Yrene asked.

"Nothing," Manon said. "I'm in labor." She had seen and read enough to know that it was the case.

Yrene nodded and placed her hands on Manon's belly. "Has your water broken yet?"

"No," Manon answered quietly as Yrene checked the baby's position.

Yrene's face scrunched as she used her magic to examine Manon. She briefly closed her eyes and then moved away from the witch. "You are in labor," she said. "Fairly early on, but I'd have to examine lower if you'd want a more accurate assessment."

"Do I have time?"

"Yes, at least a couple hours, but you should probably stay in the birthing room we've prepared for you," Yrene said. "In case something happens."

Manon nodded at the healer and walked out of the room, suddenly more aware than ever that she was about to go through one of the most dangerous moments of a witch's life. She immediately went to find Abraxos for some comfort, only to find that he, too, was nudging her back to the safety of the healers. Even the little wyvern hatchling tried to guide her inside – unfortunately he was now too large to fit through the door in the aerie.

After two hours of their fussing, Manon left the aerie to find the room that had been designated the birthing chamber. Yrene had demanded one be prepared for the birthing. One with all the supplies readily available and enough room for all of the help that might be needed. Once inside she found that the bed was already occupied by one (sleeping) queen of Terrasen. Manon could smell that her water had broken already, but the queen didn't appear to be having a contraction.

Yrene poked her head out of a doorway and beckoned Manon over. In the other room another bed was available for Manon to use.

"I wouldn't have predicted you would both go into labor the same night, but I made sure we were prepared," Yrene said. "Aelin only came in ninety minutes after you did. She was cursing up a storm, but she's early enough on that I gave her a sleeping potion that should last for a few hours."

"Is the king of Terrasen aware?" Manon asked.

"Yes, he is gathering more healers right now," Yrene told her. "I haven't seen Dorian yet."

"He's asleep."

"Don't you want him here?" Yrene asked.

Manon didn't reply. She didn't know herself – it would be nice, but if she died, she didn't want him to be there. That was besides the fact that witches typically never had the father present when their child was born.

"Well, I should examine you now. Could you lay down?" Yrene asked.

Manon did as she was asked and allowed Yrene to check how labor was going. After, she lay in bed trying to sleep through her contractions until early in the morning. Evangeline and Lysandra were sitting by Aelin's bed while Elide sat silently near Manon. Lysandra would come to check in on Manon every hour or so, but her main duty was to her queen.

Suddenly a number of male voices were outside the door to Aelin's chamber. She could instantly recognize Fenrys, Rowan, and Aedion's voices, but heard a couple that had to belong to male members of Aelin's court. There was no sign of Dorian until suddenly a flash of light next to her bed turned into the shape of her lover.

"I figured I didn't want to wait for the tongue-lashing the fae males are about to get," Dorian said as he reached out to grab her hand. Seeing as no chair was available he kneeled at the side of her bed to get closer to her level. He placed a hand on her stomach. "We'll get to meet the little one soon."

Manon stayed silent.

Suddenly the door next door opened and Manon heard Rowan, Fenrys, and Aedion enter. The human men from the hallway were apparently not being allowed in.

"Peaceful for now," Aedion commented.

"Not for long," Rowan replied, grinning as if he could feel his mate waking up. Manon could see his teeth shining through the open doorway.

Indeed, it was not for long. After some moments of grogginess, Aelin was quick to kick Aedion out, saying that she didn't need her cousin to see her vagina. Fenrys was, for now, allowed to stay. As far as Manon could tell the queen hadn't noticed her or Dorian in the next room despite the open door.

Now that Aelin was awake Yrene decided to do another check of her progress. Fenrys offered to step out, but Aelin insisted he stay. That made Rowan become more than a little jealous even though he knew the other male wasn't a threat. Aelin then began going on some rant about Rowan being a territorial fae bastard and kicked him out as well. Dorian finally made himself known, trying to explain to Aelin that Rowan was simply worried about her, only to find himself kicked out into the hallway with the other males.

As soon as Dorian had left, though, Aelin was having second thoughts and called Rowan back in – only for him to be kicked right back out as Aelin saw his reaction to Yrene's examination of how her labor was progressing. Manon hardly noticed her own contractions as she watched the show that was Aelin swearing and kicking out various males only to invite them back in as she got worried about giving birth. She asked Rowan for kisses and hand holding. Dorian tried to read passages from books she liked to her. Aedion told jokes and old stories. Despite their attempts even Fenrys, the male she trusted in torture, was not immune to her verbal abuse as she got more and more frustrated with labor.

The women around her worked to distract her and calm her down, and it worked to some extent, but every time a new contraction began their influence waned. Elide had left Manon's bedside to attempt to help, and she did surprise Aelin enough to help through one contraction, but as Aelin's labor progressed not much could help. The swears grew more fierce and the feisty queen had even gotten out of bed several times to go toe-to-toe with the males when she was frustrated.

Finally, mercifully, shortly after midday Yrene declared it time for Aelin to push. Aedion was once more exiled to the hallway and Dorian to Manon's bedside. Rowan was the only remaining male in that room as the female healers worked with Yrene to ensure both mother and baby were doing well. Manon couldn't watch through the door and tried to ignore the scents and sounds of the other room. When the shrill cry of a baby finally pierced the air Rowan roared in equal victory and Aelin panted in effort. The fae healers examined the baby under Rowan's watchful eye while Yrene was working to ensure Aelin would make it through the birth safely.

Only after Aelin had the babe to her breast with Rowan sitting beside her did Yrene come back to Manon's room. She gave Manon a tired smile before sitting by the bed to examine Manon.

"Dorian – go meet the heir to Terrasen," Manon instructed him. She wouldn't be as loud as Aelin, but she couldn't stand to have Dorian hear the bad news that was surely coming if she wasn't ready to push by now. Dorian obediently left and greeted his friends.

Yrene turned back to Manon, her face placid as she examined the witch. "It seems you're going more slowly than Aelin, but Aelin did go very fast for a first time mother." She laughed, as if she thought that Aelin had willed it that way. Manon wondered if that was even possible.

"So when will this be over and done with?"

"Before tomorrow night is over, most likely. But I would say sooner is likely," Yrene smiled. "Do you need anything right now?"

Manon shook her head.

"I'm going to take a break then," Yrene said. "I think Aelin's exhausted us all by now."

Manon closed her eyes again, hoping to take a nap of her own. She found that she couldn't sleep. An hour in a knock sounded on the dividing door. Dorian opened it and Rowan followed him inside Manon's room. Aelin was now napping in bed while Rowan cuddled the sleeping baby. Lysandra and Elide came into the room to keep Manon company for the afternoon.

"Aelin kicked us out again," Dorian explained. "She wanted to rest until the baby is ready to eat again."

"Do you want to see her?" Rowan asked the witch queen. "Everyone else has held her, even Evangeline."

Manon contemplated the choice before sitting up and holding out her arms. Rowan handed her the bundle of cloth and Manon got her first look at the heir to Terrasen. Her eyes were closed, but the little hair Manon could see was a brilliant blonde to match her mother and uncle's. Her rosy cheeks endeared Manon to the young girl, but left Manon wondering if her own child would have such alive cheeks, or if the child would be stillborn. She tried not to think of it as she hastily handed the baby back to her father.

Those around her began to chat and laugh about the young life, but Manon stayed silent. She didn't want to talk under what she saw as a dire circumstance. She could, after all, die. That wouldn't only affect herself, but also her growing kingdom.

In the late afternoon a particularly strong contraction hit and Dorian flinched at the sight. He asked Lysandra to get Yrene immediately. Rowan, Aelin, and their baby were now napping in the room next door, so Yrene and the healers were slow in arriving, trying not to wake the new family. Before they got into the room Manon was already feeling the urge to push. Dorian had thrown the blankets off of her in distress, hoping nothing wrong was happening. And then, just as Yrene ran across the threshold, a baby emerged. A living, breathing, beautiful little girl.

Manon couldn't watch the actual birth – she was too worried, but as she saw Yrene grab the child to examine and Dorian cut the umbilical cord with a ceremonial knife Manon was in too much awe to look away. She ignored the healers efforts to heal her and ensure she was okay. She only wanted to ensure the survival of her own daughter. It was only when the child was given for her to hold to her chest that Manon felt comfortable in the knowledge that the baby was alive.

Dorian wrapped his arms around his wife and daughter. Manon could feel tears of happiness flowing from his eyes, and to her surprise felt some well up in her own. Then she blacked out.

Dorian had been the one to tell Manon that she had begun to hemorrhage shortly after birthing their daughter. Luckily there were no less than three fae healers and Yrene present to help. While she did lose enough blood to faint, Yrene was able to assure him that Manon would be fine after the healing. Still, Manon was cautious. Instead of the twelve hours Aelin spent in bed after giving birth, Manon spent two days in bed. She was anxious to get up and move, but more anxious that that would hurt her or the baby more. Yrene insisted that moving was actually best, but she couldn't convince Manon to do so.

What finally got her out of the birthing room was Dorian's insistence that she see Abraxos. Apparently her wyvern was getting rather antsy to see her and had been anxiously "tapping" his tail against the aerie's floor, shaking the tower it was perched on. Manon ignored the shaking as she ascended the stairs holding her daughter.

Upon entering the aerie the shaking stopped. Abraxos moved his neck through the space to face Manon. His hatchling was positioned safely behind him, hidden under one of his wings. He sat silently staring for a minute before he began to sniff curiously at the baby in Manon's arms. Manon, seeing that he could not get an adequate scent, unswaddled the child and held it to the wyvern's nose. Despite knowing Abraxos's tendencies, Dorian stared on nervously from the entrance.

Finally, after a tense stretch of time, Abraxos released a happy gurgle. He released the hatchling so that it could also sniff out his new companion. Finally Dorian approached, sensing that the wyvern was calmer. He reached out to give Abraxos a pat on the head before he sat next to Manon. Abraxos adjusted a wing so that the small family could curl up to his side. They remained there for hours, content to stare at the scenery with the wyverns.

Shortly before dinner was to be served, Aelin and Rowan had come up to the Aerie to invite Manon and Dorian downstairs for dinner. Although they weren't eager to do so, out of politeness Dorian forced Manon to accept. They found themselves escorted to Aelin and Rowan's personal sitting room. The table was covered with a small feast, because as the women had proven, now that they were breastfeeding they were eating more than ever. Rowan and Dorian were content to take their share before leaving the rest to their wives. The couples discussed their plans, countries, and most importantly their new children. Right now the girls were both sleeping in cribs, their own bellies full of milk.

Then, an hour into their discussion, Aelin's daughter awoke with a loud cry. That set off Manon's daughter. Aelin laughed as she noted that her daughter's cry was louder than that of Dorian's. (Dorian was an acceptable target for her, but Manon was not). Rowan grabbed the small golden-haired girl from her crib while Manon went to get her daughter. Manon noticed her daughter sniffing in the direction of the other baby as her cries subsided, so Manon brought her daughter towards Aelin and Rowan. The two girls, despite being only a couple days old, looked at their parents, at each other as if they were conspiring, and then began to cry even more loudly.

The two new fathers began to laugh as they saw their daughters "conspire" to annoy their parents. The two mothers were now smiling at each other.

"Perhaps we should make plans for them to meet at least once a year," Aelin said. "For training."

"For training," Manon said, smirking back at Terrasen's Queen.

That exchange shut the males in the room up quickly.

"Are you going to take her to meet the Thirteen?" Aelin asked quietly as they strolled back towards the gardens, holding their daughters.

Manon looked in the direction of the monument dedicated to them.

"Are you going to wait until she's older?"

Manon shook her head. "No. On our way to Rifthold."

"And every year your daughter comes here," Aelin said.

Manon looked at her. "Which will be every year. With me."

"Then do you expect my child to visit you in Adarlan?"

"The Wastes," Manon replied. "And Adarlan."

"For diplomacy's sake," Aelin said.

"Yes, diplomacy," Manon said.

Both swore they heard Dorian murmur in a window above them. "Yes, diplomacy, or their desire for their daughters to experience and kill every minor horror on this continent."

And both knew they heard Rowan laugh.

Somehow, now that their daughters were born they wondered why they were worried about telling the males in the first place.

Georgina had ultimately decided not to go to Orynth. She anxiously awaited Dorian and Manon's return, hoping the birthing had gone well. Three weeks after Manon's due date a guard had spotted her daughter-in-law's wyvern and its hatchling in the sky preparing to land at the palace. A second wyvern landed first, and with a glow transformed into her son.

The fact that he could transform into whatever shape he wanted was severely disconcerting to her – especially when two servants purported to hear Manon having sex with a woman in Dorian's room, only to find out that the "woman" was her son in another form. Dorian's explanation of the situation to her was the only time she'd seen her son blush in a very long time. Today, as he did in public, Dorian remained as his normal self – male and self-assured. But, from years of knowing him Georgina could tell that he was watching just as anxiously for Manon to land.

Guards brought out footstools and offered handholds in case the witch queen needed help dismounting from her wyvern. They knew she would be offended, but the heir was more important than the sensibilities of a queen that hardly belonged to them. Abraxos landed gingerly on the field, as if he was more concerned about Manon than she herself was.

Manon didn't bother to use any stepstools or even Dorian's out-stretched hand. To Georgina and Dorian's dismay she hopped off of her wyvern as she always had, the baby securely strapped to her chest.

Georgina sent Manon a disapproving look.

"I trust Abraxos more than a carriage," Manon said simply. She unwrapped the fabric holding her daughter to her chest and Dorian picked up the little girl. "Her name is Asterin."

"Asterin Elena Havilliard Blackbeak Crochan," Dorian added. "For both of our families."

"Let me see her," Georgina asked.

Dorian brought the girl closer to her mother. A small tuft of light hair grew on her head, though Georgina couldn't tell if it was Manon's white or the blonde baby hair Dorian and Hollin both had in their infancy. The eyes were gold like her mother's.

Manon walked over to get closer to her daughter. "Go on, hold her."

Dorian handed her to his mother, and for the first time in a long time she felt happy. For the first time since the war she was already planning shopping trips and forming ideas of exactly how the girl's room should be decorated. But then she had a thought. "Will she be growing up in Adarlan?"

Dorian and Manon looked at each other.

"I believe half-and-half," Dorian replied. "Although this first year may be mostly in Adarlan with us travelling to the wastes every so often."

Manon smiled at her sleeping daughter. "So you are free to do as you will with her, and I will be free to do as I will. However, she will not be your definition of a fine lady. She will be a witch."

Dorian looked at his wife. "But she will need some sense of decorum. I'm sure my mother will help with that."

"Certainly she will need the court and political training," Georgina said.

"Of course," Manon replied. "That is something that while useful in the witch kingdom that cannot be learned there."

Georgina was relieved.

"But you cannot stop me from teaching her to fight," Manon added.

"As long as she is at least as ladylike as Aelin. Perhaps more," Dorian joked.

"More ladylike," Georgina said. "But I suppose that would be a good minimum."

Manon laughed. "I can guarantee that."

"Can you be ladylike yourself? Wear a dress?"

"No," Manon replied. "But as queen, I can make pants acceptable."

"I'd like to see you try," Dorian whispered in her ear flirtatiously.

"Perhaps I should leave you two alone," Georgina said. She looked at her new granddaughter, equally enamored and eager to begin getting her into proper court garb – or at least proper baby garb. The travel clothes she was wearing weren't nearly as appropriate as the lacy dresses she had ready and waiting for the child's return to Rifthold.

"Yes, fine," Dorian said. "Do what you want."

As Manon watched the baby leave – the first time she had been apart from her daughter in the first month of her life – she began to understand separation anxiety. Simultaneously, she realized how tired she suddenly was.

"Want to go to bed?" Dorian asked her seductively. "I'll carry you."

Manon knew she wasn't supposed to have sex for at least a couple more weeks, but Yrene said there may be more leeway due to her enhanced healing. And she did want it with how good Dorian had been at teasing her on the trip back to Rifthold. So she took his arm and walked with him back up to the tower.

In Dorian's room they slipped off their travelling clothes, took a warm bath together to rid themselves of the scent of the road, and went to bed. Only to fall asleep as soon as they hit the covers.

Georgina brought her granddaughter back to her son's room to be fed, knowing that the young parents would probably be relaxing. But as soon as she saw that both were completely knocked out she smiled and returned to the hallway. She knew there was a prospective wet nurse around somewhere, and any break Manon and Dorian could get would be well deserved. After all, they had given her a grandchild – and somehow she was now more grateful for that than she would ever be to have an heir.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! I tried to make this cute and funny but this follow-up to the previous chapter ended up being a whole lotta angst (I hate writing it but I feel like angst would be in character for this situation).

For some reason I've been getting a new plot bunny to write a somehow more angtsy version of this. Also how the fuck did it get that long? I think this piece alone is 14000 words? I probably should've split this into two chapters but no.