#poly!manorian

My heart stutters from fear. The realization that Aelin and Manon are truly angry with each other finally dawning on me. I don’t even think they realize I’m still here.

“You’re the selfish one! She basically lives here and she’s lucky if you or Rowan let her out! How can she even visit Rifthold if you keep y/n locked up here?”

Now it’s my turn to get angry. I stand so fast my chair screeches as it flys across the floor. Aelin and Manon stare at me wide eyed, finally noticing me. “You’re both being selfish. And how dare you talk about me like I’m not here!”

They don’t even acknowledge what I’ve said. Going right back to fighting, too wrapped up in wanting to be right. Continuing their screaming match I give up on getting their attention.

Stomping down the hall I head to Rowan’s parlor. The kings lounge on the couch, drinking and laughing together. Why couldn’t Aelin and Manon get along like this?

I shove myself between the two with a huff, hugging my knees to my chest. “Darling, what’s wrong?” Dorian asks, caressing my cheek.

“They’re fighting again.” Both let out a sigh and wrap an arm around me.

“What now?” Rowan asks softly with a kiss to my temple. “How one’s more selfish than the other and I’m not allowed to go anywhere.”

They tense next to me. I know Dorian and Rowan are communicating silently. And I know they both realize there’s a little truth to that statement. “I’ll go talk to them.” Rowan moves to leave but I grab him. “No,” I pulled him back. “Let them figure it out.”

I sit with Rowan and Dorian for over an hour before Manon and Aelin find me. “There you are,” Aelin says with a sigh of relief. I stare at them blankly as they kneel in front of me. “Love, we’re so sorry if we scared you.”

My scowl deepens. “I wasn’t scared. I’m mad at you two.” They both recoil with hurt looks. “If you two, hell the four of you, can’t talk to each other like normal people, then I can’t do this anymore.”

​​Dorian Havilliard hired you for the night. 

You’d signed what felt like countless contracts, making sure to read each fine line and detail. Most of them involved not speaking of what happened throughout the ‘event.’ 

You could be trusted for your discretion, but the same couldn’t be said for the others and, you hated to say it, but your king hadn’t always made the best choices when it came to hiring. 

If you were being cocky, you’d say he could’ve consulted you, but it was uncomely to assume the King of Adarlan knew who you were. Knew who most of his subjects were. Although he certainly tried, parading through the city speaking with different business owners. 

However, nobody stopped by the business you worked at for a casual chat. Brothels generally weren’t made for talking. Word had it, his witch would be there as well, and if what you read in those papers a few weeks ago was true, you were to be playing with both of them. There was no reason to doubt the agreement you’d signed.

Either way, your name was on the list when you made your way to the castle gates, clothed in the garments he’d sent the night before, your own cloak covering them. You could hardly wear them out on the streets, not without causing some sort of massive scene. 

A chill snaked up your spine as you crossed the threshold to the castle, exhaling slowly and trying not to look too out of place. The instructions for your arrival, tucked inside the garment you currently wore, were rather vague. 

Meet inside the gates at quarter past seven, the guards will have your name. Someone will meet you there. 

-D.H. 

Thankfully, a servant found you immediately, greeted you with a smile before ushering you off towards a side entrance. 

You were given a room to ‘ready’ yourself however needed. The woman looked rather uncomfortable saying that, and told you’d be expected at eight o’clock sharp. 

As you spun slowly, you decided it was a rather beautiful room. Better than you expected, honestly. 

The three quarters of an hour passed quickly, and the same servant came to fetch you. You passed through unfamiliar halls, trying your best not to gawk at everything, but it was all so damn beautiful. It was hardly fair how quickly the woman was walking, barely giving you a chance to glance at some of the decorations hanging from the walls. 

-

Dorian caught a glimpse of you once, passing by your place of business. He knew, then, that not only did he want you, but Manon would as well as soon as she caught a glimpse. Well, to his best judgment he figured she would. 

Tonight, he was fulfilling a fantasy of hers, with your help. 

Some old habits died hard, or not at all, and he couldn’t resist throwing a party every once in a while – after the country had time to rebuild and settle, of course. He knew rumors spread around the city of them, but not a soul dared to confront him. He almost wished they would, just so he could see the reactions on their face when he told them it was the truth. 

He leaned back in his throne, fingers tapping on the arm, where Manon perched. She’d refused one of her own, preferring to share his. He understood it, they had limited time together. Part of the reason he wanted to give her this gift. 

The doors to the throne room opened, the servant ushered you inside before closing the doors gently behind you. Gracefully, although he saw the slight tremor in your fingers, you strode up the pathway, dropping into a low curtsey before both of them. 

A throne pet, just for the night. 

His bloodthirsty ironteeth witch leaned back and assessed you with a gaze too cool for golden eyes. He could feel her forming a judgment and he’d be lying if he said a bit of nerves didn’t spike through him with it. But Dorian knew her, he knew he’d chosen right with you. 

Manon’s shallow nod gave him an unexpected sense of relief. The show could go on. 

“If nobody has explained yet,” he knew they hadn’t, but part of him wanted to throw you off balance, “you’ll be playing the role of our throne pet for the night.” 

You frowned slightly. Maybe mentally running through the papers he’d had you read and sign? 

“We don't expect you to bark, meow, or wear a tail. I thought ‘pet’ would be a more pleasant word that ‘whore’ or ‘slut,’” Dorian clarified.

The vulgarity turned your cheeks beet red, but you nodded in understanding, a familiar hunger gleaming in your eyes. Maybe those were words you didn’t quite mind. 

-

Unable to resist, you ground back against Dorian as Manon approached. Even your human nose could scent her arousal. The witch didn’t notice, her eyes fixed firmly on you. Rather, on your pussy currently on display. 

Both legs thrown up over the side of the throne, you made quite the sight. 

The party and debauchery raged on around you, but you were well aware everyone in the room had at least one eye on you. Or on the scene playing out in front of them. You couldn’t blame them, you’d probably be watching as well. 

Right now, however, you were a prettily presented package for the Witch Queen, and gods you were in some kind of heaven. 

Manon ran an iron nail down the inside of your thigh. You shivered as she drifted over sensitive areas that, with one sharp flick of her wrist, could cut you open and spill your life out. It thrilled you. She didn't draw blood, instead built sensations along your inner thighs, supplementing each light scratch - that disappeared after a few seconds - with a press of her lips. They were surprisingly soft against your skin. Delicate, even, although you’d never have the courage to say that to her face. 

By the time she crouched, not knelt, before you, you were a squirming mess atop of her lover, his hands firmly gripping your thighs to keep them spread. 

Clothing had been lost nearly an hour ago, as soon as Dorian had decided he wanted to see all of their pet on display for them.

“How do you feel, pet?” Manon purred, voice bedroom ready with a slight rasp.

You whimpered. 

Dorian tutted behind you, “I think she asked you a question.” 

“Good, good, good,” you managed to chant, the only word that made sense. “Please,” you added. 

“If I want you to beg,” she lightly thwacked your inner thigh. “I’ll let you know.” 

You bit down on your bottom lip to keep more pleas from spilling. This wasn’t even like you, you’d never begged before but right now this female and male had you willing to fall to your knees for it. They’d teased you with gentle touches all night, the barest brushes of their skins against yours, as if they were waiting for this. For you, as a desperate and wiggling mess, ready to agree to any terms for release. 

Iron nails retracted, you held your breath. 

“Breathe,” Dorian chuckled in your ear, but you heard the hint of command. Slight embarrassment flushed through you, but Manon had either noticed and ignored, or not noticed at all. You’d bet money on the first option. 

At the first contact you gasped, inhaling deeply. Her fingers spread you open as she lowered her head closer. And stopped. 

Teeth ripped into your bottom lip to keep yourself from whining pathetically. 

She licked one long stripe up the center of your core, hands still spreading you widely. It was a good thing your King had a grip on you from behind, because your body writhed outside of your control, like you’d been possessed by pleasure. 

She repeated the action, twice, thrice, before pausing again. 

“She tastes delicious,” she told the king, and rose over you. Shifting to the side and twisting your head, you watched their tongues swirl together. As he tasted you on her. 

She lowered herself again, this time sucking your clit between her lips, flicking it lightly with her tongue. Talented. Manon Blackbeak was talented. 

Fingers pushed in, curling upward, your eyes rolled back, fingers gripping the King’s forearms with a death grip, nails probably biting in and committing some kind of crime. She sucked on your clit again, harder, pushing her fingers up against your front walls, and you fell over the edge. 

It hadn’t taken long, not with how they’d built you up the entire night, probably without knowing what they were doing. 

“My turn,” Dorian murmured into your ear. “If you’re ready,” 

Were you? For him, absolutely. 

“Yes,” you breathed, and were lifted on your feet. It took him seconds to maneuver you, bending you right over the side of the throne with an urgency you hadn’t seen from the man. Hands scrabbling for purchase, you gripped the opposite arm to keep yourself steady. You had a feeling that the attempt was useless. 

Dorian gripped one hip, you twisted over you shoulder to see his other hand wrapped around a beautiful cock, felt it notch at your entrance as he guided himself inside. 

Fuck. It felt incredible, having him inside of you, filling you up. 

His hips began moving and someone else, in front of you, caught your attention, tapping a finger on your lips. 

The Witch Queen. Momentary panic flooded you. Was she not alright with this? Were you about to lose your head? 

“I want to watch your face,” she murmured, “he feels good, doesn’t he?” 

You managed a nod. He moved faster, any words you might have said left you along with the ability to speak them. 

“You look like a dream,” she said in a matter-of-fact way that made you think she didn’t really believe it, but perhaps that’s just how she spoke. 

For several minutes, the King pounded into you, his hand eventually pressed against your lower back, and you dropped your hands to rest against the seat of the throne, arching your back for him, enjoying the moan that left his lips. 

As he pulled out, spilling himself all over your back, magic quickly cleaning it up, your body went limp against the throne, incapable of movement. 

“You’ll have to hire her again,” you heard the Queen tell the King as he scooped you into his arms.

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Rumors. Horrible and wicked rumors spread throughout the castle of you cheating on your partners. Having been accused of it in the past, your body was tense and heart rate through the roof.

“I would never,” you muttered under your breath, running a hand through your hair. 

“Never what?” An amused voice came from behind you. Dorian. You jumped, not having heard him come through the door. 

Three breaths to center yourself. You waved your hand, “you know,” trying to allege to the rumors without actually having to say them. 

“I do not know,” Manon stalked through the open door. “Care to share?”

To anyone else, the words may have sounded sharp or even accusing but you knew that was just her way of speaking. 

“That I cheated,” you dug your teeth into your bottom lip, fists clenching the fabric at your sides, “I’d never do that -“ the words came out in a stream of mumbles and murmurs that barely made sense. 

Dorian centered you by placing a hand on your shoulder, and the words slowly faded. Manon came to stand next to him, grabbing on of your hands. It was awkward in your hold, but you knew the witch was still learning how to comfort and you took each moment for how precious it was. 

You’d missed dinner. Not entirely unusual - sometimes you worked through it, or found a few friends to go out with. But, you would always leave a note if you left the castle. 

He pushed the doors to your rooms open, Manon shortly behind him, and expected to find you at a desk - papers strewn around you, at least three different books open, but you were nowhere to be seen. And neither was a note. 

“It’s possible she forgot.” He murmured, mostly to himself. 

“Forgot what?” Manon stalked over to his side, where he was staring at your desk. 

“To leave a note.” 

“Y/n never forgets.” He watched as the burnt-gold eyes scanned the room, her body stiffening. He didn’t need any immortal senses to feel the panic starting to come from her. “She hasn’t been here in hours.” 

“Then lets go look.” Dorian ran through the places you could be - library, one of the private offices, some of the meeting rooms - maybe you needed a bit more space. 

He strode through the doorways, walking faster than usual. 

-

Manon was on edge. Everything today went as normal - the only exception was your decision to go for a run … but she knew you had meetings after that, and had seen you around lunch. Her mind whirled through every scenario, every possibility, and each becoming worse and worse. 

Panic started to set inside her, iron nails nearly snapping out at the thought of you in danger. She managed to keep some of her cool - hopefully not to stress Dorian further, but she could see the King was already on edge. 

They went through each room, each place she could possibly be, and didn’t find her. Her panic grew stronger by the minute, iron nails snapped out. Until she caught your scent. 

Manon didn’t bother watching to see if Dorian kept pace as she followed the trail. Through rarely used parts of the castle - mostly abandoned. Dread and anger grew in equal measures. If anything had happened to you, she’d rip the throats out of anyone even remotely involved.

-

You were tired, it had been a long day. Countless meetings, exhausting courtiers that made you want to rip your hair out, and you’d decided to go for a run this morning, for the first time in months. It made dealing with everyone easier, but didn’t help your exhaustion - and you were ready for bed before dinner. 

The castle was big enough to have infrequently used passageways, and you found one of your favorites, intending to rest. The late afternoon sun beamed through the windows, warming the sun and stones of the small alcove. A rest couldn’t hurt, you propped yourself up inside it, curling against the warm wall, tucking your knees up, and decided to close your eyes for a few minutes. 

“Y/n,” a feminine voice sounded, and you groaned, stirring. Your neck ached on one side .. where were you? Your eyes blinked open, and it was dark. You’d only laid down to rest for a few minutes, it couldn’t be that late. You felt a hand on your shoulder, and twisted, one hand holding the side of your neck, to see Manon and Dorian. Both looking incredibly relieved, but a little pissed off. Manon grabbed you, roughly pulling you from the alcove. 

“Be gentle,” you protested, but she tugged you upright, scanning your entire body. Looking for injuries. 

“Why the hell would you sleep there?” Her eyes narrowed and her voice sharp. 

“I didn’t mean to.” You said carefully. “I was just supposed to rest.” 

“Stupid.” She hissed at you. Dorian pushed her out of the way with his shoulder, wrapping you in his arms instead. 

“What she means to say is we were worried when we couldn’t find you.” He ran his hand up and down your spin, gently pressing you closer to him. “And that we’re glad your okay.” 

“Don’t do that again.” Manon snapped and you hid a laugh, pressing your face into Dorian’s chest. “Napping in an abandoned hallway-”

“Or leave a note.” Dorian interrupted, his a corner of his mouth turning up.