Manon's Child

Part 50

Manon's POV

I may as well sleep through the next month for the amount I do. Dorian barely lets me out of bed long enough to see to my needs, let alone walk through the palace. The healer's no better, constantly fussing over me and my pregnancy. She brings her child with her to see me, and makes a point of visiting everyday.  For some reason, I don't shred them every time they over-care.

By the end of the month, however, the only thing keeping me sane are the witches reports on my city. Occasionally, Bronwen or Petrah come personally, always sneering at the petty nobility living here. They report on their private assignments as well as the city, which does a little to ease my nerves. As of yesterday, there's been no more of this ridiculous talk about rebellion.

The door to the chamber opens, and Dorian comes in, scowling after a day of dealing with his ridiculous human counsellors. Humans. When he doesn't immediately sit down, just hovers in the doorway, I say, "What is it?"

He looks at me, finally coming over to perch on the bed beside me. "My mother and brother are arriving tomorrow."

I scowl. If anything that Dorian's told me about his family is true, this is not going to be pleasant. Maybe they'll be annoying enough that Dorian will let me use them for target practice - I always found humans were better than witches at it, anyway, and I have to keep fit somehow. "And?" I finally respond.

But Dorian looks down. "I haven't spoken to them since my father," he admits.

Oh. Well then. What am I supposed to say now? I try to look gentle. "I-"

I'm cut off as Dorian looks up to my face and laughs. I scowl. So much for looking gentle. "What." I demand.

"Nothing." Dorian stands, starting to change out of his fancy clothing and into something more comfortable.

"What. Is. Funny." I growl, viciously enough that he turns, mischief on his face.

"Calm down," he says, now shirtless. "It was just - your face." I growl, scowling, not deigning to reply, but he continues smiling to himself as he finished changing and gets into bed beside me.

He leans over, resting his head on my even more rounded stomach, as if listening to the extra two heartbeats within me. I smile as Dorian put one of his hands round my waist, grabbing my hand in the other. He places it on my stomach, his on top. I debate pulling away, but don't. "I can't believe I'm going to be a father," he says, smiling quietly.

"If I survive your endless coddling until then," I mutter, and Dorian laughs.

After a while, Dorian says, "I'm sure my family'll be fine - just... try not to scare them."

I smirk, though he can't see it. "I make no promises."

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The next day, I'm dressing in my usual clothing, leathers modified to fit my growing belly, when Dorian comes in, holding - 

I choke. "You expect me to wear that?!"

Dorian looks apologetic. "It's only a dress. I figured my mother would react better to you if you were wearing it. Will y-"

"Absolutely not!" I say, stalking over to yell in his face despite the fact that I'm only half-dressed. I growl, more at the dress than him, and hiss in his face, "I will not wear that abomination."

Dorian starts to laugh, but quickly stops at the look on my face. "Please, Manon. It's only for a day."

"I. Am. Never. Wearing. A. Dress," I say, and turn away as gracefully as I can whilst four months pregnant with twins - so not. 

Dorian says, "Not even on our wedding day?"

"Not even then," I reply, his words only sinking in a couple of seconds later. I go still, then turn around slowly. "What did you say."

"I said," Dorian replies slowly, mischief in his eyes. "Not even on our wedding day?" He starts to sink down onto one knee in the human's way of asking to get married, but I stop him.

"Wait." He stops mid-kneel.

"Yes?"

"I will wear that - that thing -" I gesture to the dress - "to meet your mother. But only," I pause, Dorian now standing. "Only if you do that  in front of your mother." 

From what I know of the woman, she will not appreciate her son marrying a witch. Her expression will be just the kind of cruelty I've been craving for a few days now.

"By that," Dorian says, smirking, "You do mean propose, don't you?"

"Yes." I grit my teeth, turning away to hide the happiness filling me at the offer. A few months ago, marriage would have been abominable, but to Dorian, now... I guess it could work. With some careful consideration, of course. Marriage wouldn't just be between us, it would be between our kingdoms. 

I approach the dress like a human would a lion, not hiding my disgust.  I scowl in distaste as I pull it off the hanger, the navy blue garment elegant in its simplicity. I pull it over my head, Dorian doing it up at the back.

I scowl at my reflection as I gaze in the mirror. The blue is lined with gold, fitting over my belly as though it was specifically made for me. The thought makes me grit my teeth. I scowl.

Dorian comes up behind me. "Well? What do you think?" He slides his hands over my stomach, pulling me into him, and rests his head on my shoulder. Slowly, I lean back to whisper in his ear.

"I think, " I say quietly, pausing. "That if you ever put me in one of these again, I will shred your heart."

My iron nails snap out, narrowly missing his fingers, and he curses and pulls back away from me, gaping. I just smirk, and, cursing the fact that I can't even walk properly anymore, waddle out of the room.

Dorian catches up to me as I sink onto his bed, cradling my stomach. "What was that for?" he demands, but before I can answer, a tentative knock comes on the door. Dorain scowls, but calls, "Enter."

"Your Majesty?" the servant girl bows. "Prince Hollin and your mother have arrived."

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HI peoples,

sorry for the late update, and thanks for 6.9k views. hope ur all well and sorry for the slow pace, it should get interesting soon (I hope) .

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