World of Dreamers (TOG/ACOTAR crossover)

Chapter 3

Dorian held onto Manon's waist as if his life depended on it. He guess his life did depend on her, as they hovered thousands of feet in the sky, completey trusting the Wyvern beneath them. If Abroaxos fell, then they would too, and it wouldn't be pretty when they hit the ground. Abraxos dove beneath the clouds, the rest of the thirteen following, he continued to soar down, gliding a few hundred feet above the ground below. 

"There," Manon pointed to a small village in the distance- Braircliff. "Take us there Abraxos." The Wyvern roared a command to the others, recieveing cries in return.

"No wonder you and Abraxos clicked," Dorian chuckeld, "You both have the same command over the thirteen, and the same bloodthirsty taste for violence."

Manon looked over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "You and Abraxos seem to be getting along just fine, both of you enjoying sunkissed flower fields."

Dorian faked a hurt look. "Abraxos was helping me decide which color of flower mathched your white hair and gold eyes."

Manon smirked, eyes lighting up. "And which color did you come up with?"

Dorain considered. "Red. Right Abraxos?" He patted the Wyverns side. The creature purred in answer. "Red." Dorian confirmed, meeting Manon's gaze again. Blood rushed to her cheeks, the color lighting up her usually pale features. She looked away, a smile crepping onto her lips.

Dorian smirked and looked toward the horizon. It had quickly become one of his favorite things, this banter with Manon, sending his blood rushing everytime. He didn't know what to think. She was driving him insane and she knew it. With the snarky remarks, stolen glances and occasional kisses, he was falling for her, he realized. Falling hard.

They landed on a patch of empty grass just outside the village, the heat of the Western Wastes overwheleming Dorain. He peeled his jacket off, setting it on the sadal as he jumped down, offering Manon a hand. "I can get down on my own princeling," She snarled, taking his hand anyway.

She laned in the grass next to him and he drew her in, her lips a hairs breath away from his. "I know you can get down on your own, witchling, but maybe I like helping you. Maybe I like this." He leaned forward pressing a soft kiss to her lips. He pulled away, taunting her as he let go of her hands and went to talk to Abraxos.

That kiss. A whipser of what he had given her once before, yet it still left her utterly useless. Her limbs had frozen and her heart had thundered. She knew he could hear the rapid beat at which her heart was racing, knew he loved it. She secretly did too.

Asterin walked up behind her and eyed the King. Noticed what the kiss had done to her. "You once asked me what it was like to love, to be loved." Asterin looked at her. "It was like that. Every kiss leaves you breathless, every embrace a whisper of home."

Manon looked at her second and realized for the first time that she might actually be... be in love. In love with a mortal King. It was stupid. She knew it could not last. Knew that the time would come when he passed on into the afterworld and left her here in this world with a broken heart and yet... She would savor it. She would savor every moment they had together, for they both wouldn't make it out of this war alive. She knew that for certain.

"Come on," Asterin moved, Manon following.

These past weeks they had been searching the Western Wastes, going from village to village, looking for any whisper of the lost Crochans. They'd had little luck so far,  covering most of the East and heading West. Toward the coast, and toward Briarcliff. Manon caught up with Dorian and her thirteen filed in behind them. This village was larger then most, in the midst was a small lake, the only water in the area.