Wings and Heartbeats (Manorian Fanfiction and crossover between ACOTAR and TOG)

Part 33: Promises

Manon Blackbeak Crochan looked out upon the Crochans assembled, rows upon rows of red-cloaked warriors, swift and ready upon their redwood brooms. Many were decimated in the war only two years ago but they were quick to recover, there were even more Crochans that had arrived late to the battle.

She then glanced towards the lines of Ironteeth witches, their wyverns armed and ready, their hair braided and weapons glinting. She had trained them further on how to lighten their load as well as getting their mounts used to certain altitudes and weapons. The techniques she'd once trained the Thirteen.

Manon then spared a glance towards Petrah and Bronwen on either of her side. Not her coven, simply her sentries. In fact, Petrah's and Bronwen's own covens fall back not that far away. "Let's make this count," she breathed.

At that, the Queen of Witches jumped into the skies, her new red cloak flapping in the wind, now worn not to scorn, but to honor.

-

Aelin stalked among the lines of her army, Terrasen's defenses have grown extremely small compared to what they had before the war but it was still quite considerable for any kingdom, all thanks to her planning, besides she has wolf riding Faes now.

She had them all assembled in the sprawling lands of Orythn, where the rest of Erilea's armada would be arriving. Sadly, there was no time for her to call in her many favors, though it would be fun to march into battle with Ansel and Hasar. 

She flinched when she felt a stab in her stomach.

Damn pregnancy.

-

"Well fuck this," Rhysand cursed, surveying the lines and thousands of people, Fae, and otherwordly beings that he'd have to both rip the sky for and winnow through. 

"Language," Feyre reprimanded.

"Maven isn't here, though," Rhys said.

His mate smirked, ", Excuses."

Rhys only smirked back, though it quickly faded when he truly realized what he's about to do. It was going against the laws of nature, of how things were meant to be, to simply walk the worlds.  But then again, if it wasn't supposed to exist then why did it?

A slender and warm hand slipped into him, squeezing gently. "I can winnow them," Feyre offered.

"It's your choice if you wish to, I can handle it if I reserve enough."

Feyre glanced at their intertwined hands and whispered: ", I think I will." The High Lady then lifted her stunning blue-gray eyes towards his, holding his gaze. "Don't die please," she said quietly, almost desperately ", You've given enough-I don't know if Maven-if I could take it."

Something in him shattered as he replied with ", I promise."

-

Lottie was terrified.

The news came quick and fleeting. War is coming. 

And Tamlin was going. 

She can admit that despite everything she'd heard Tamlin has done, despite everything he has done, she can't help but to care-to love him. She followed him around the manor, his remaining sentries gathering outside.

She followed as he found his armor, as he pieced them together and donned them. She followed as he pulled a sword from thin air. As the bustling of the leaving servants silenced to hollow emptiness. She followed until he was at the threshold of the doorway.

Tamlin didn't spare her a single glance, one foot already out the door. Reflexively, Lottie sprang forward and latched onto his hand, his calluses scraping against her smooth hand. His green eyes slid towards her and he angled his head in silent inquiry.

"Don't go," Lottie pleaded, her other hand clenched.

"It would seem only a few days ago that you seemed determined that we should have helped the villages," Tam said wryly.

"This is different, Tam, this is war."

Something in his eyes solidified and his lips pursed. "Stay out of this, Lottie, there's nothing you can do with that weak magical ability of yours."

Shock coursed through her, enough so that she stumbled back in surprise, Tamlin's only response was to walk through the door and slammed it in her face. 

It was true. She was to be trained in her strange ability. The ability to take from a material and give it another form. It was weak, and it didn't show much promise other than a bunch of ice shards.

But it didn't mean it was useless. 

Gritting her teeth in anger, Lottie straightened her back and glanced sideways at the steel doorknob. Her parents had placed hope in her ability, to be able to help their poor family, for him, no matter his identity, to outright insult it-

A concentrated burst of power splintered the doorknob, shattering it completely. A few more painful gasps the splinters knitted together into a long slender spear of steel, both sides pointed and sharp to the touch, barely longer than her forearm.

"I'll fucking show you who's useless," Lottie snarled, making her way around the manor to find more steel.

-

They winnowed into the mountains of the Dawn Court. Thesan's troops were already marching towards Under the Mountain. In fact, winnowing in thousands upon thousands of legions of soldiers and witches and Fae was probably wasn't what they should do in a war. 

Luckily, Thesan called the fire down and walked towards them, already leading at the front of the lines. Rhysand had stumbled, catching himself before falling onto the jagged stones of the mountain. The High Lord of Dawn simply nodded and said ", They're coming out on both sides of the mountain, just as you said."

Feyre nodded ", Helion?"

"On his way."

Thesan's lips then quirked to the side ", You brought quite an army. Your allies did well on their word."

"We do not lie," Aelin said sharply.

Thesan nodded simply ", Amren and the Morrigan have gone ahead. Your spymaster and commander are swiftly leading the Illyrians our way."

"My sisters?"

"That, I believe, I do not know."

The High Lady of Night nodded gratefully ", We will march with you to battle."

"Then we better get going."

-

lazy update but an update nonetheless, but hey, battle scene coming up soon so yay.