Chapter Text
After the final battle, Dorian holds Manon for hours on the aerie.
They stand for a short while, then he moves her to sit so they are leaning against Abraxos, who has been eyeing them with concern and sadness. Dorian keeps one arm around her, the other is patting the wyvern who lost his mate.
Eventually, Manon falls asleep against his chest, her arms still wrapped around him, and he wonders how long it’s been since she got rest. Or ate. Or did anything to take care of herself. They are both gore streaked from battle, but the gauntness of her face and the circles under her eyes tell him it’s been awhile.
A door creaks and Dorian stretches to see Yrene walking towards them. Chaol is waiting in the doorway.
Yrene bends, and examines Manon for any obvious injuries. Quietly, she says they came the moment they heard about the Thirteen.
Dorian asks her for a favor and Yrene happily agrees to do it. When she returns to Chaol and tells him, Chaol catches Dorian’s eye and nods.
Some time later, a servant arrives with a message. Dorian shifts Manon into his arms and stands, trying not to wake her. Abraxos tilts his head to watch them leave but makes no effort to object after receiving a goodbye pat.
As he follows the servant through halls and down stairs, Manon wakes, groggily asking where they are.
“Inside,” is all Dorian says.
She is so tired, she just rests her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.
They get to a room and the servant leaves. Candles are magically lit and a fire flares in the fireplace.
Dorian sits Manon down on a makeshift bed, her bedroll laid out over a pile of hay. She looks around the room to find a table with food and drink, and a small tub filled with water.
Dorian crouches and starts undoing the buckles of her boots. He works his way up, pulling her filthy clothes off a piece at a time. Manon just watches him silently, unable to subdue her awe at his gentleness and care. His eyes flit to hers every few moments to check if she’s ok. When he’s undressed her, there is a quick brush of his fingers to wipe away a tear, then he undoes her braid.
Taking her hand, he helps her to stand and walks her to the bath. The water is warm, no doubt from his magic. She steps in and sits, letting the warmth soak into her skin. The heat increases and she sighs as it hits her weary bones.
Without a word, Dorian washes her hair and helps her bathe.
Manon has never experienced anything like this before. She knows that under other circumstances, she would have pushed back, would have scoffed at such treatment. But not now. Now, she understands. At least, she thinks she is beginning to.
With love can come heartbreak. She’d lost everything. Yet, not everything.
Dorian smiles as he holds up a large blanket, waiting to wrap her up in it.
She lets him.
He sets food in front of her while he quickly washes. She doesn’t eat much, a few bites. But the warm bread tastes good.
He leads her to the bed, but makes no move to lay down. Manon takes his hand and pulls, opening her blanket, beckoning for him to join her.
Dorian does, and they fall asleep in each others arms.