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asnowfern · 2 years ago

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The Writing's On The Wall - Chapter 5

Summary: She's a demon, he's a hunter. Their fates intertwined after a chance encounter. Can Nesta and Cassian overcome all odds to be together? Ancient Chinese wuxia AU setting/Inspired by the Legend of the White Snake.

Read: AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

A/N: To make up for the lack of update last week, I have combined chapters 5 and 6 into a longer one. I would also like to emphasise that I have nothing but respect for the Tibetan community. The implications of Cassian and Emerie's history is fiction and is intended to reference a fictional warrior tribe in the Himalayan alps near Tibet. From my very brief research, I do not believe that the Tibet/Tubo empire had warrior tribes and hence chose to create a fictional one, based on Illyria, for Cassian and Emerie. It is not my intention to be disrespectful and I truly hope it does not come off as I am.

Chapter 5: 坚持就是胜利 (To persevere is to win)

NESTA

Gwyn and Emerie stared at Nesta with slacked jaws as she relayed their battle with Briallyn to them. A stunned silence settled over them as they processed her tale.

"Can I see this pendant?" Emerie asked after a beat, a curious glint entering her eyes.

Nesta fished it out from underneath her robes and pulled it over her head, immediately missing the constant warm presence of the gem.

Emerie gave a small gasp as she gingerly took the pendant. Her hand shook slightly as she leaned the stone on her palm and used one finger to stroke the smooth surface almost with reverence. To Nesta's surprise, a gentle sad smile graced her features and her eyes turned suspiciously bright.

"It's a betrothal necklace," she said softly, her voice dropping to a bare whisper, "It's rarely used in my village but it is customary for the male to gift a necklace to the female when he states his intentions. But these matching protective necklaces are very, very rare. The ultimate act of devotion - connecting and protecting each other, regardless of distance."

Nesta remained silent as her brain raced to retrieve the memory of Cassian giving her the necklace - revisiting how he brushed aside her questions.

"And the explosion?"

Emerie shook her head, bringing the necklace closer to inspect it, "I've never heard of such incidents. It might be a result of your imbued flames in his pendant, compounding the protective charms within the pendant."

"Your flames and scales are an integral part of you. You might have imbued more of yourself than you thought when you burnt it into his gem." Gwyn added, bending over to observe the necklace and admired how the stone glistened in the light, "It's beautiful."

Nesta nodded numbly as she took back the necklace and stared into the pendant.

Humans couldn't be trusted. They lie, they deceive, they betray. And they did it with no remorse when it comes to each other, let alone with demons.

Except Cassian, her brain reminded her. Good, kind, selfless Cassian.

As if on cue, the pendant glowed warmly in her palm. Everything alright? It seemed to ask. Nesta gripped it tightly before hastily stuffing it deep into her sleeves, not ready to wear it just yet. Not until she finished absorbing the recently gathered knowledge.

A gentle comforting hand over hers, its presence warm and soothing. Nesta looked sideways to Gwyn's reassuring smile but found herself unable to conjure a smile in return.

"That man cares for you more than anything in this world, Nesta."

Nesta swallowed thickly but said nothing, grateful when her friend did not probe further.

***

The following weeks fell into a routine. Nesta, now joined by Gwyn, would come down every morning to help teach the children, alternating easily between martial arts and reading classes. She and Cassian interacted as they always had before the attack. He would tease her and she would respond in kind. Every night, she went back to the hut with Gwyn. She didn’t seek him out and he kept his distance. If that bothered him, he did not show it.

“How did you turn shifu’s sword on him during your sparring?” Suzie asked, frowning at the sword in her hand after Xian disarmed her once again. “Is it a different style?”

“Cassian and I don’t follow the same style but the principles are the same,” Nesta tilted her head in thought, moving her limbs to adopt her usual stance, “as a female, turning your opponents strength on themselves and maintaining agility are crucial skills.”

She demonstrated, taking a step inwards to swing her foot at Suzie’s standing leg and knocking her off balance, her arms stretched out to catch the younger human as she fell. “Always judge the space between you and your opponent and when the opportunity strikes, use gravity to aid you.”

She smiled as she saw Suzie processed her explanation, her hands and legs twitching as she ran through the move in her head. She was not surprised when Suzie's next move sent one foot flying through the air towards her leg. Nesta allowed the strike to hit before shifting her body weight and flipped around so that her front was to Suzie’s back, her sheathed sword flat against her neck.

A heated intent snapped her attention away from her next instructions to Suzie. Her chest tightened at Cassian staring at them from across the courtyard. His gaze felt hot enough to brand and hold her in place. Except, Nesta is no ordinary female, demon or not. She turned her focus back on Suzie and pointedly ignored her co-instructor for the rest of the session and left the building afterwards.

Cassian followed her out to the woods, maintaining a careful distance between them. She paused as she reached a field of flowers, turning to face him. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide open as his breathing became quick and shallow.

"Cass-"

He cut her off, covering her mouth with his. Demanding and desperate. His arms pulled her up and closer as she parted her lips and invited him in. His kiss conveying all that he wanted to ask but knew she was not ready to answer. Why? Why did you take off the necklace? Why didn't you seek me out? Why? Why?

But beyond that felt like a hurt that she did not expect. Why do you still doubt me?

Nesta pushed herself back to put distance between them, abruptly breaking the kiss. Her eyes downcast as she tried to ready the words, sharpened and primed for attack. Words that she held back when she saw the vulnerability on his face.

"You found out about the necklace," he reasoned, his hand moving to grasp where his necklace hung beneath his clothes, "That's why you took it off."

"Why?" The word slipped between her lips, "We barely knew each other."

"No, we didn't," he agreed, slowly stretching out his hands towards her, giving her the opportunity to pull back from him before he gingerly held his hand against hers "But I already knew then that you were important to me. Even before I remembered."

"Remembered?" She echoed, her gaze fixed on her fingers which folded to interlace with his, a calm settling within her as his warmth seeped through.

"Do you remember a rainy winter afternoon on the stone bridge from about ten years ago," he continued gently, his thumb brushing circles on her skin, "You gave coins and food to a homeless man, instructing him to use it to feed the other homeless children?"

"Wha-" Nesta began to ask as her brain brought up images of a dishevelled man shaking underneath a straw coat - How she watched the day before as he gave whatever limited food he had to the other children with him, hazel eyes that twinkled only as he spoke to them. How the same set of eyes sharpened and chased away a cloud of despondency as she addressed him. How it disappointed and warmed her to never see this man sitting listlessly, lost in his hopelessness, on the bridge again.

And suddenly, it was like a fog had lifted.

His mouth pulled into a small shy smile, "You saved us. Not just me but Suzie and Xian too." He tugged her hands towards his face, pressing his lips to her knuckles, "I didn't give you the necklace to propose or bind you. It was just a way to know when you need help. But then I got the chance to know you. Your strength and kindness and wit."

He pulled her hands down to his chest once more, letting her feel the organ beneath the flesh beat wildly, "I meant it the other day. This beats only for you. There will be no one else for me. Forever."

"Forever," she agreed, continuing after a beat, "For either of us."

Cassian's face split into a smile, a light so bright that it stole her breath away. He leaned in and captured her mouth as his own. She sighed as their hands separated, her hand winding around his neck as strong arms circled her waist. His tongue easily slid through her parted lips to taste her, groaning as he did so. The kiss felt timeless, endless. Their limbs entangled until she couldn't differentiate where she began and he ended. A cycle of hands, tongue, teeth.

Then a shrill scream and a low guttural growl pierced through the air.

They reluctantly pulled themselves apart, the unwillingness she felt reflected on his face. The edges of his mouth lifted into a familiar smirk as he readied his sword, the promise clear in his eyes. We'll finish this later.

Nesta ignored the heat that pooled in her.

They sprinted in the direction of the attack, their speed enhanced by their qigong. A heavy weight dropped in her belly at the sight that greeted them - two monstrous creatures surrounded a mother and her young child. The mother cried desperately as one creature effortlessly swept her away and used its other claw to lift the child into its mouth.

Saliva dried in her throat. They wouldn't be able to reach there fast enough. Even a well aimed throw of their sword wouldn't guarantee the child's safety.

Nesta tightened her jaw as she made her decision. She snapped her head towards Cassian who threw her a look of understanding - Go.

Nesta flew across the stream that separated them, a stream of silver flames shot out of her hands towards the monster and severed its arm. The child screamed as he fell. Nesta pushed out more qi to quicken her pace, catching the child just before he plummeted into the ground.

She gently let the child down and shoved him behind her to face the creature. She lifted her sword, imbuing it with flames. Her blade arced through the air and cleanly cleaved the creature's torso in two. Cassian did the same with the other demon, the bright red jewel in the pommel shone bright and true as he ran his blade through it.

Nesta took a long exhale as she swung her sword out in two strokes to fling off the blood. Her gaze flicked towards the mother and son they rescued, her fists clenched tightly at the fear present in their eyes as the mother pressed her son tightly into her chest.

She didn't need to guess why. The extensive use of her powers would have shed the glamour and betrayed her true identity. It didn't matter if she only exposed herself to save them. There would be no gratitude or even discretion. The fear said it all - Monster.

Cassian's large hand enveloped hers as he looked down at the pair. The gesture sent the message loud and clear.

"You're safe," he promised them, willing his voice to be low and comforting, "Nothing will hurt you now."

The mother trembled but her eyes shone with a protective glint, her voice shrill in panic as she exclaimed, "W-we can't know that. Who's to say she didn't want us for herself."

Nesta felt the grip on her hand tightened as Cassian's face hardened at the comment. His next words came out in a soft but dangerous tone, "She saved you. Not because she needed to but because she's a good person."

The woman scoffed in derision, "She is not even a she. It is a demon."

Cassian visibly bristled next to her, his anger rolling off him in waves.

Oh, for fucks' sake.

"Enough" she announced haughtily, "My actions speak for themselves. We are done here."

She stalked off with her head held high, hearing a soft curse from Cassian as he followed her, leaving behind the woman still sputtering demands for help from the hunter behind him.

"She's going to tell the other hunters," Cassian said after they have moved far enough to be alone, "and he will come with his army."

"I know."

They headed back to the house in silence, the thick veil of unease hovered over them.

***

"No," Gwyn said crossly, her arms similarly crossed in front of her chest, "I'm not leaving you to face him alone."

"I wouldn't be alone," Nesta reasoned, tilting her head towards Cassian, "Cassian will be with me. He knows the hunters. Their tricks and strategies."

Gwyn's face crumbled a little, "He's targeting you because of me."

Nesta pulled her arms over Gwyn into a hug, "I would done it many times over if it saved your life. Besides, he would never stay away from a trophy kill like this. You know that."

Her teal eyes glistened as she returned the embrace, promising, "We will be right back after the kids are safely hidden within the forest's magic."

"I know," Nesta agreed.

"Where are we going!" A young voice interrupted loudly. The four adults whipped their heads towards young Ivy standing by the door with Suzie and Xian. The rest of the children stood curiously behind them.

"Someone bad is coming for Nesta," Cassian explained as he gestured them into the room, opting to tell them the truth, "Gwyn and Emerie will bring all of you somewhere safe where you wouldn't be hurt in the fight."

"Why would anyone dare to attack when you are around?" Ivy asked incredulously.

"Because you're a demon," Xian declared as he stepped forward, nodding at Nesta and Gwyn, "and so are you."

Nesta and Gwyn stared at him slack jawed while Emerie beamed with pride from behind.

"You were always gifted at reading auras." She commented with a smile.

"Did all of you know?" Nesta asked in disbelief.

"We do and we don't care," Suzie said openly, moving forward to hug Nesta, "You are our shijie and nothing will change that."

Nesta felt the back of her eyes sting as an excitable Ivy pulled Gwyn in and jumped into the hug, her small arms barely able to cover all of them. Before she realised it, Nesta was engulfed by the presence of all the children. Her heart warmed as she swallowed the lump in her throat, her spoken gratitude lost in the affection.

Finally, she looked up to look in their earnest faces, "This is why you guys need to go with Gwyn and Emerie. She will guide you to our home where the magic of the forest will protect you. Where you will be safe from the crosshairs."

Ivy opened her mouth to argue but Suzie placed a stern hand on her shoulder, stopping her. "We understand but promise that you will come back to us. Both of you!" She demanded, throwing a fiercely protective look at Cassian.

"We will," she replied, a little too quickly. A fact that did not go unnoticed by the teenager who frowned slightly. Nesta's face softened as she continued, staring at her head on, "I can't promise you that but I can promise you we will fight our damn hardest to do so."

"You better!" she demanded with silver lined eyes.

***

"It's time," Cassian announced solemnly, her hand slipping into his as he took what felt like a last glance back at the house.

The weight of the pit in her stomach seemingly doubled and twisted Nesta's insides. It was just another fight. Yet, she couldn't escape the feeling this was a fight that would not come out victorious.

She turned to look at Cassian, a hand unwittingly raised to caress his cheek and take in his features. The scar cutting through his eyebrows, the striking hazel eyes that always seemed to see through her, his sharp cheekbones and chiselled jawline.

It was silent when she leaned in to slant her lips over his and it was silent when he pushed her against the wall and kissed her so thoroughly it wiped all worries from her mind for a blissful moment. And it was silent when it ended and they came crashing back to reality.

"Cassian, I-" Nesta started but found the words stuck in her throat. "I-"

"I know" he murmured into her hair as he nuzzled it. The gesture was so tender and loving that it felt like her heart could combust.

When Tomas came with his small army of hunters, it was to the sight of Cassian and Nesta standing side by side, hands interlaced. A united front.

"Well, well, well," he greeted, the tone sleek and oily, "The Lord of Bastard shacking up with a demon. I can't say I'm surprised."

Cassian's smile was cold and humourless as he returned the greeting, his chin dipped in mock respect, "My fellow hunters, I must have missed my invite to the party."

Tomas sneered, "You can't call yourself a hunter if you're siding with a demon. Word has it that you sided with it when it attacked an innocent woman just yesterday." He spat the word like she was something filthy and unholy. Which, according to him, she was.

Next to her, the muscle in Cassian's jaw feathered. Just for a flash before it was gone in the next moment.

First, we sow doubts

He barked a laugh in disbelief as he asked, "Is that what saving people's lives is called nowadays?"

"You mock her? The poor woman was terrified," the monk said, his haughty features full of self-righteous indignation. "Your pet demon terrified her."

Again, he spoke of her like a mindless creature. Like she wasn't here and Nesta had enough of it.

"I did nothing to the woman and she knows it," she said sharply, she focused her gaze on him, pointed and predatory, "In fact, you know it. You're here only because I stole from you and lived to tell the tale."

The hunter gave a loud mock sigh, "Well, since violence is the only language you demons understand." His face twisted into a cruel smirk, "Violence is what you'll get."

The taut atmosphere snapped as Tomas's hunters swamped the both of them, battle cries echoed through the air.

Cassian and Nesta stood back to back with their weapons unsheathed. The silver flames in her veins thrummed under her skin, beckoning to be released. The pendant against her chest practically vibrated with qi.

When we fight, we stick together. They will try to separate us, to distract us. Just focus on offence, I'll cover you. I've got you.

Nesta unleashed her flames to whip at their enemies, working in perfect tandem with her blade. Behind her, Cassian flanked her rear, easily cutting down hunters who wanted nothing more than her death.

But no deaths.

No fatal attacks. A condition Cassian was not initially in favour of but eventually agreed. They already thought her a murderous being, she needed to be better.

Tomas flew towards her, striking fast with his staff. Nesta gritted her teeth as she settled back into a familiar parry. From her peripheral, Cassian was single handedly fending off a squadron of relentless hunters. Individually, they were no match for him and they knew it. But they had the numbers and would wear him down with time.

She had to get back to him.

Despite that, the fight stretched and Nesta grew impatient, her anxiety building up. She gathered her qi transformed into her large snake form and effortlessly blew them away with a gust of wind.

Except it was a mistake. A trap sprung the moment her form was released.

Golden light surged from the ground and caged her in when she transformed back. Her entire form seized in white hot agony.

"I'm afraid you will find this much harder to get out of." Tomas taunted. She stretched out her senses, scouting for the vulnerable points in the cage structure but there was none to be found. Tomas's eyes gleamed with triumph, enjoying the sight of her trembling in pain.

"NESTA!" Cassian roared from a distance, his attacks now turned ruthless as his blade ran through his enemies. There was no more mercy to be had. Slash, dodge, jab, block. Nesta could do nothing but look on helplessly.

Nesta's heart leapt to her throat as she saw the impending strike towards him. The shout to warn him left her one second too late. Their screams resonated through the air together - Cassian's in pain, Nesta's in heartbreak.

The golden trap shattered into dust as her flames, fuelled by her rage, surged through her. Blood roared in her ears as it swept through the field, razing everything and everyone. Her brain barely registered the screams her fire elicited.

If a villain is what they want, a villain is what they will get.

Nesta floated calmly in the sky as her fire spread from the battlefield into the surrounding woods. The emptiness in her grew with every second as the flames continued to ravage and consume.

"Nesta, you can stop now." A gentle voice said to her.

Stop? Why?

Copper hair and teal eyes swam into her vision. Friend, a part of her recognised.

"Nesta," the voice pleaded, soft hands cupping her cheeks to turn her sight on the speaker.

Nesta blinked.

The world rushed back to focus. She looked down at the field of ashes beneath her. Bile coated her tongue at the scent of burnt flesh permeating through the air. She was a monster.

She turned her head stiffly to Gwyn. Her friend's face was full of compassion. Compassion that she did not deserve.

"Cassian" she croaked, her heart ripping at its seams.

"Emerie's got him. His injuries are serious but he will live." Gwyn cooed as she wrapped her arms around Nesta comfortingly and she descended the both of them back down to Earth.

Her pendant warmed as her feet touched the ground. I'm okay.

Nesta could have sobbed. She made to raise her hand to clutch at the stone and send qi through it.

But she couldn't move a limb, there was something in her restricting her movements and paralysed her. Although that didn't make sense. The fight was over. Nesta looked down at her abdomen, at the staff that protruded from it.

Oh.

Her vision went black. The last image in her head was the self-satisfied grimace of Tomas Mandray. His final move before his body succumbed to his burns.

***

CASSIAN

"Stop moving." Emerie admonished as Cassian struggled to get up for the third time.

He glanced around their surroundings desperately but was unable to see past the smoke that blanketed over them. He sent one more desperate pulse of qi into the pendant, begging for a response.

"Nesta" he called out, his voice weak and raspy as he tried not to pass out from the pain, "Something is very wrong."

"Then I suggest you stop moving so I can bandage your wounds and prevent your organs from falling out," she replied exasperatedly, winding white cloth over his gaping hole in his torso. Cassian hissed as the bandage tightened over his bleeding body with each later.

"Are we done?" He asked petulantly as Emerie wound the cloth again. She rolled her eyes at him as she tied a single knot, tightening it roughly.

"Ouch!"

"Now, you're done." She announced, ignoring his exclamation. She hauled his arm around her shoulder, "This will be challenging but you gotta hold on to me as I wouldn't be able to hold you and my cane."

They huffed in effort as Emerie hoisted them up and limped them across the battlefield and over the corpses towards Gwyn and Nesta, the weight in his belly multiplied with every painful minute.

It finally crashed when he laid eyes on Nesta, lying on the ground, ghostly pale with the monk’s staff pierced through her body. His legs gave way and he collapsed despite Emerie’s support.

He choked a sob as he belly crawled his way to her, his bandaged wounds rubbing against every crevice of the cindered ground. The physical pain dwarfed by the emotional pain.

“Nesta” he whispered into her scalp, a sacred plea for her to wake up. Hot tears leaked out as he buried his face into her hair and let out a guttural sorrowful growl.

“We can still save her.” He heard someone say behind him.

He lifted his head to locate the origin of the voice.

“She’s a demon,” Gwyn explained, “So long as her physical form is still around, we can save her. Keeping her in the Leifeng Pagoda would keep her in stasis until we find a way to heal her.”

Cassian didn’t need to hear more, he gritted his teeth as he cradled the Snake Demon in his arms and attempted to stand, ignoring the pain that threatened to tear his body apart.

“Oh Cassian, know that I am not sorry for this.” He heard Gwyn say before the back of a sword came hurling towards his face and darkness swallowed him whole.

***

Cicadas buzzed in the distance as Cassian blinked awake. He stared blearily at the stoned ceiling of his room as he waited for the events of what had to be a hell of a night come back to him.

One blink, two blink, three blink. Nothing.

He sighed heavily as he curled his belly to sit himself up only to be met by blinding pain erupting from his abdomen. All at once, the memories flooded him. Kissing Nesta in the field of flowers. Saving the mother and her son. Tomas Mandray and his army of hunters. Nesta lying fatally injured. Gwyn saying that she could be saved.

Cassian groaned as he forced himself up, his body screaming at him in protest. He barely made it halfway across the room before his legs buckled and he fell loudly to the ground.

Quick steps accompanied by clickety taps of a cane rushed over before Emerie’s exasperated voice reached his ears, “Oh for gods’ sake.”

“Nesta?” He asked quietly as he sat slumped.

“In Leifeng Pagoda. Gwyn has been scouring all over for a cure but…” She trailed off, uncertainty coating her silence.

“She wouldn’t find one. This is something only the Heavens can give,” He finished. His brain raced. If Heavens is where he had to seek help from... “Lhasa. I need to go back to Lhasa.”

“They could kill you.” She pointed out sharply.

He shrugged, not caring in the least. “They can try.”

“Don’t be reckless.” She snapped, continuing as she gestured ruefully at her permanently damaged ankle, “I will accompany you as your escort. After all, I have already paid the price for leaving.”

That stopped Cassian in his tracks, knowing what such an offer meant coming from Emerie. His composure cracked. “I can’t ask that from you.”

Emerie snorted, “It’s not a question. She’s my friend too.”

It was another month before Cassian was well enough to make the journey back to Tibet and another tiring month of travelling before they were allowed entry into the city with Emerie’s access. Cassian looked up at the high stone walls of the Potala Palace, his long underutilised lungs expanded to take in the thin air of Tibet.

“Cassian,” a low voice rumbled from the shadows of the entrance, “You were told what would happen if you were to return to Tibet.”

Despite the threatening nature of the words, Cassian grinned widely. The dark form stepped out of the shadows, a genuine smile adorning the handsome features of the male, violet eyes twinkling.

“My prince,” Cassian gave a respectful deep bow, “Or should I say, my emperor?”

“How about brother?”

The two long separated friends greeted each other with tight hugs and a pat on the back.

“Come,” Rhys said, gesturing him and Emerie into the grand hall of the palace, “Let’s chat in here.”

With a simple snap of his fingers, the guards and maids of the palace began to scurry out of the room.

“It’s good to see you again, brother. Although you must know how this would go down if the tribe chiefs hear of your return.” Rhys said seriously after the hall had been vacated. “It must be serious.”

Cassian sobered up and nodded along, “It is. I have a favour to ask,” and began his tale.

Rhys leaned back into his chair as he popped a small cake into his mouth. The servants had come in with tea and cake sometime in the middle of Cassian’s storytelling. Rhys concluded, “So you want entry into the most sacred place in all of Tibet and China?”

Cassian nodded, knowing the big ask of his request, “Just once then I’ll leave and never step foot in these sacred lands again.”

Rhys nodded, “It would have to be just you.” He dipped his head in apology at Emerie, who simply shrugged and leaned back in response. Too used to the systemic misogyny in her life.

She sipped her tea and retrieved a book out from her sleeves, “I’ll wait here.”

Rhys led them down into the sprawling underground tunnels beneath the palace. Cassian whistled lowly as they made their first turn in the tunnel, “So the stories of the underground palace are true?”

Rhys’s lips twitched, “Careful, Cass. One more question and you will be bound to the Tubo royal family forever.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time” he drawled.

“Such insolence” Rhys tsked.

After what felt like an infinite number of turns (in reality, it was only about twenty. Cassian had counted and memorised every turn), the duo found themselves in front of a large wooden red door. He turned to Rhys, his head bowed, letting the royal enter first.

Rhys shook his head, “Only the worshipper is to enter.”

At those words, the doors creaked open and bright golden light shone through the cracks. Cassian inhaled deeply and stepped in.

His eyes widened impossibly large as he took in the Goddess which stood in front of him. He fell to his knees, prostrating himself. “Guanyin niangniang,” he whispered in reverence.

The Goddess of Mercy looked down, fixing her assessing gaze on him. “Rise,” She said after a moment.

Cassian raised his head but remained on his knees. His whole being paralysed in the overwhelming presence of Guanyin. He began speaking, hoping desperately that his good intentions would come through, “Guanyin niangniang, I am here today to humble myself before you and seek your mercy, your compassion to provide me aid. My love, Nesta- ”

“The White Snake,” The Goddess cuts in sharply.

He swallowed thickly, pressing forward, desperation leaking into his tone, “Yes, the White Snake. She was gravely injured in battle and now lies in the base of Leifeng Pagoda. Her injuries are so severe that she needs divine assistance.”

The White Snake in her perceived devastation killed over a hundred lives and destroyed acres of forest and the life that it supported. What makes you think she is worthy of salvation?” She demanded. “So long as the pagoda remains standing, she will lie there forever more.”

Cassian kowtowed, his forehead pressed hard into the floor as he begged, “Please. It was all because of me so let me take on her sins and atone for them. Anything to save her.”

He held his breath as the Goddess paused. His heart thundered in his chest. The air around them thickened with swirls of divine qi. It pressed down and suffocated him. Still, he held on, holding firm against the divine assessment.

“Fine, you may atone for her behalf.” She agreed, pausing once more at Cassian’s exhale of relief. “She will be released once the atonement of sins has been completed. Until then, the demon will remain ”

He kowtowed once more, opening his mouth to thank the Goddess profusely.

“Just know this, hunter.” The Goddess’s tone shifted to one of caution and sagely advice, “There wouldn’t be enough good deeds that you can carry out in this lifetime that can redeem her. You may never see her again in this lifetime.”

Cassian’s heart squeezed painfully, an ache that he would never escape from.

He raised his head, still wanting to express his sincere gratitude to the Goddess, “Then I will continue to do so for the next lifetime and all my lifetimes after that. Never stopping until she is redeemed.”

“Very well. It is done.”

A/N: Please don't hate me. I had to. Translation Notes: 雷峰塔/Leifeng Pagoda - An iconic tower that sits located on Sunset Hill south of the West Lake in Hangzhou. 觀音娘娘/Guanyin niangniang - Goddess of Mercy

The heavy doors closed with a resounding thud, sealing their fates.

#nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fic #Wuxia AU #There is still one final chapter I promise

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elevatorladylady · 2 years ago

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Critical Reread - ACOFAS Chapter 26

Join me on a reread of A Court of Frost and Starlight.

Chapter 26 - R/hysand

R/hys, Cassian, and Azriel discuss the Illyrian rebellion.

“More malcontents than we’d expected. A good number of them from the Ironcrest camp, notorious rival of this clan, where Kallon, son of its lord, was taking pains to stir up as much dissent as possible.”

I didn’t realize Windhaven was a specific clan, but it makes sense that other clans would feel less favored by the general and high lord since they always do their Illyrian business in Windhaven.

“Accidents happen in the Rite, I’d only suggested when Cass’s face had tightened with the news.”

Of course R/hysand is going to suggest murder over any kind of diplomatic solution.

“We won’t dishonor the Rite by tampering with it, was his only reply.”

It was a dishonor to the Rite to force Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie to compete.

“It was healthy, perhaps, for Az to sometimes remember where he’d come from. He still wore the Illyrian leathers. Had not tried to get the tattoos removed. Some part of him was Illyrian still. Always would be. Even if he wished to forget it.”

I’m just so wary of Az’s journey to deal with his internalized racism.

“This mission of Cassian’s, hatched years ago and perhaps close to fruition … It went beyond bets for him. Went down to a wound that had never really healed.”

Did we know that Cassian was this passionate about having female warriors in his army? I assume the wound R/hysand is referring to is Cassian’s mother’s death, but would having female warriors really have protected his mom? Why not create and enforce laws that actually liberate and protect the women of Illyria instead?

#sjm critical #anti sjm #ell reads #ell reads ACOFAS

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silverflameataraxia · 3 years ago

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Once again, ACOSF uses powerful language in reference to Gwyn:

Until Gwyn halted her plunge, yanked to a stop. The entire world seemed to suck in a breath as Nesta waited for the snap of the rope.

But Gwyn only careened toward the rock face, grunting in pain as she hit.

The entire world sucked in a breath while Gwyn's fate was being determined and I'm supposed to believe she's an unimportant side-character who could never be with Azriel?

It couldn't be, perhaps, that the entire world sucked in a breath to see if Gwyn's savior's light would be snuffed out?

This part also reminds me of the powerful language used when Gwyn first cut the ribbon and became the newest Valkyrie:

Gwyn whispered, “I am the rock against which the surf crashes.” Nesta straightened at the words, as if they were a prayer and a summons. Gwyn lifted the blade. “Nothing can break me.”

Cassian's throat tightened, and even from across the ring, he could see Nesta's eyes gleaming with pride and pain.

Emerie said, “Nothing can break us.”

The world seemed to pause at the words. As if it had been following one path and now branched off in another direction. In a hundred years, a thousand, this moment would still be etched in his mind. That he would tell his children, his grandchildren, Right then and there. That was when it all changed.

Azriel went wholly still, as if he, too, had felt the shift. As if he, too, were aware that far larger forces peered into that training ring as Gwyn moved.

Smooth as the Sidra, swift as the wind off the Illyrian Mountains, her entire body working in singing harmony, Gwyn lunged toward the ribbon, twirled, and as she spun, her arm opened up, executing a perfect backhanded slice that cut the winter morning itself.

Also, I find it interesting that Gwyn's swiftness was compared to the wind off the Illyrian Mountains. Especially since we know Illyria will play a big role in the next book, in particular Ramiel, which is probably where the fourth Dread Trove item is hidden in shadow.

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houseofhurricane · 3 years ago

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Rules for Spies: Chapter Twelve

Summary: While Azriel and Gwyn work to free Koschei’s captives, attraction turns into something more.

Chapter Word Count: 3,342

Warnings: This chapter has smut and references to past assault, and this fic includes mature consensual sexual situations, references to past assault, and torture.

Art & Banner: cosmikla

All chapters are available on Archive of Our Own. All previous chapters linked here.

It only takes a few minutes to return to the House of Wind, including the short and terrifying flight to land, and Azriel feels as if it passes in a blink. Gwyn presses a kiss to his lips and then she takes her bag to her room, and he realizes that he’ll spend the night alone in his bed again. It’s enough to take her back to Illyria.

But instead he passes a report to Cassian, who informs him that his father came to Velaris in a rage yesterday, and that resolving the ensuing shitshow has taken up all of Rhys’ time since.

When Cassian hears that his step-brother went hunting him in the Illyrian wilds, he groans bone-deep, pressing his face into his hands.

“Rhys was trying to stall him, to give you both time.”

“We don’t need it,” Azriel says, not knowing how much of Gwyn’s power to reveal after seeing her dance around it with Mor the other day, but not wanting to speak any more about his father. Even the thought of his winged figure descending on them in the clearing makes the hair rise on the back of his neck, as though he is still being hunted. “We -- I think we’re ready. For Merrill, at least. We’ll see what information she gives us.”

Cassian only nods. Waiting, as usual, for Azriel to say more. And though he feels so far from that sunlit kitchen of only a few days before, he’s not going to break his promise to Gwyn.

“Gwyn and I started something together,” he says, and before he can say anything else, Cassian whoops and his arms are a crushing weight around Azriel’s shoulders.

“Nesta and I may have placed bets on when you would finally admit that it was happening. After all that touching in the dining room, it was only a matter of time,” his brother says when he’s calmed down slightly, and Azriel is too happy at this particular moment to point out that nothing he and Gwyn have ever done in the dining room could compare to what he’s caught Nesta and Cassian doing on the table. “The two of you… I could always see it, Az. I saw how you looked at her when she cut the ribbon.”

Azriel thinks back to that day a year ago, when he’d known that Gwyn would cut the ribbon even before she did it. How happy he was that she’d triumphed, at the look of joy in her eyes. He should have known then that they were mates.

Instead he and Cassian talk in the sitting room about what has happened in Velaris over the past week, how training is progressing, until Gwyn and Nesta and Emerie emerge, laughing about something that, they say, would take an hour to explain properly.

Mor appears in time for dinner, a box from her favorite pastry shop in her hands, and when Emerie kisses her cheek, the only reaction is a low whistle from Cassian and a corresponding glare from Nesta, a sure sign that the news has spread.

“Rhys wants to see the two of you in the morning,” Mor says to him and Gwyn as they all serve themselves, and Gwyn’s face is instantly a little more somber.

But she brightens quickly enough with the food and the wine and the torte that Mor brought for dessert, and when Emerie suggests a game that she and Mor are fond of playing, it’s not long before he and Gwyn are winning and she’s letting out a pretty scoff at a scowling Nesta.

He’s nearly settled himself into bed when there’s a knock at the door. He knows, just from the weight of her hand, that Gwyn will be standing there, and it makes him happy to be here, at home.

This time, she’s wearing a silk nightgown that reveals her collarbones, her freckled shoulders, the long lengths of her pale, muscled legs. And what isn’t covered by the nightgown is caressed by the soft fabric: her breasts, the flare of her hips. The fabric matches her teal eyes exactly. He wants to rip it off her, replace the clinging fabric with his mouth, his hands. If she were willing, he would kiss his way from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet.

“The House had this waiting on my bed,” she says, catching his stare, no doubt scenting his arousal. “Can I come in?”

He opens the door wider for her and she walks inside, scanning the room like a spy, taking in everything without revealing the full scope of her gaze.

“I’m not much for decorating,” he says, knowing full well that the room contains only clothes, weapons, and the latest reports from his spies. Likely it looks barren to her.

“I would have thought you’d have more books.” She settles herself on the bed, his feather duvet giving way under the weight of her, and he moves towards her without thinking.

“Unlike you, I actually return them to the library once I’m done.”

She gasps indignantly even while she reaches out her hand, resting it on her hip bone. She cants her head back to meet his eyes, and he sees no hesitation on her face.

“I sleep so well when you hold me,” she says.

“I do too.” And tonight he wants to hold her, to banish the possibility that he will dream of his father, to feel the sweet warmth of her against his body and let her even breathing lull him back to sleep if he wakes in the night.

“But I also want something else.”

She shrugs her shoulders and the thin silk straps of her nightgown fall away, and as she stands with her fluid grace, the fabric undulates down her body until it’s a teal puddle at her ankles and the whole of her is revealed.

Azriel can’t help staring at her lithe body, her moonglow skin with its scattered freckles like dark stars, the graceful arcs of the shoulders honed by hours of training, the small firm breasts with the nipples that remind him of berries in a bowl of cream, the dip of her waist and the curve of her hips and the copper curls between her legs.

Her scent, that mixture of lemon and lavender and sage that is so unique to Gwyn, is heavy with her own arousal, and he thinks, even while he tries to control himself, that if he touched those curls, dipped his fingers into the flesh beneath, that he would find her slick and hot, ready for him.

“You’re perfect,” he says, his voice strangled by everything he feels at the sight of her. His gorgeous mate, so brave and determined and brilliant and kind.

She takes a step toward him, and it’s like a spell is broken, because they reach for each other with grasping fingers. Her breath is loud in his ears as she pulls his sleeping shirt around his wings and over his head.

“Can I?” she asks, with her fingers on the waistband of his pants.

He manages to ground out a please, and then her hands are pushing his pants down and he’s groaning as the length of his cock is freed.

He notices that Gwyn is silent, and he pulls his mouth away from her neck.

“It’s just -- you’re supposed to fit inside me?”

And he realizes that this would be her first time. He thought he’d known what the Hybern commander had stolen from her, but he somehow hadn’t known that Gwyn was a virgin until this moment, when he sees the uncertainty in her posture, the fear she tries to hide from him.

He hooks his fingers under her chin, brings her gaze to his face.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight. Or ever. But yes, if you’re ready and you want it, I will fit inside you. And I’ll make sure you enjoy every inch, nightingale.”

He was hoping she’d smile at that, but instead she takes her hands from his hips and covers her face.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I think I’m ready and then -- I hate being weak like this. Especially when I want to be with you and I know… you could be with somebody who could give you everything you want.”

He wants to pull her fingers away from her eyes, but he’s not sure if she would welcome the exposure, so instead, he cups his hands over her shoulders.

“You are the person I want. You are everything I want,” he says. “You are not weak, Gwyn. You are brilliant and brave and you never back down from a challenge. You are the most naturally gifted spy I’ve ever known. Weak is the opposite of what you are. Something was taken from you, horribly, and you should never be ashamed of what you are doing to heal yourself. Of needing more time or space. I will always give you that.”

He hopes she hears the solemn oath in his words, the promise he will always keep to her. No matter what he wants, no matter what his body craves, he will never hurt her, never ask for more than she is ready to give.

Gradually, her fingers relax and her eyes are revealed, sparkling with tears.

“Why are you so kind to me?”

He almost says it then: you’re my mate. But even in all his awkwardness, his lingering bewilderment at the rules of conversation that govern this sunlit world, Azriel knows those aren’t the right words.

Instead he says: “I respect you. And I care for you, so much. How could I do something that will hurt you?”

She reaches for him, her hands clasped at the back of her neck, and when she kisses him, he feels her relax against him. Like something in her is settling into place.

Then she opens her mouth against his lips, her tongue an invitation, her hands stroking the lines of muscle down his back, the place where his wings begin.

“You don’t have to do that.” He pulls away the smallest amount required to get the words out.

“I want to. I still want--”

He’s aware of the naked length and warmth of her against him, the subtle changes in the softness of her skin, the curls of hair between her legs.

The way his cock is pressed against her hipbone, his desire made rudely clear.

“What do you want, nightingale? If you want to go back to your room, I’ll get dressed and walk you back.”

“Don’t get dressed.” Her fingers are tracing his hip, the path created by his muscles, and he has to bite back a groan. “I’m not ready for you to be inside me, for all of it yet, but -- I want to know what an orgasm would be like. What it would be like with you. And I want to touch you. To know what your cock feels like in my hand. To know what sounds you make.”

“You want me to make you come?” Because he wants to hear those exact words on her lips.

“Yes,” she says, and then, maybe his desire is written in the air between them, because she breathes, “I want you to make me come, Azriel.”

He starts by kissing her, his teeth on her lower lip and his fingers lightly skimming the skin of her shoulders, her arms, her back, until she lets out a little sigh, and then he sweeps her hair off her neck and moves his mouth there, licking and and sucking on that fragile skin until her fingers press into his shoulders and she whispers his name.

“All right so far?” he asks, and she pushes his mouth back to the dip in her shoulder. He rewards her with a little bite that makes her let out an adorable breathy oh! His cock throbs in answer but he does his best to ignore it, to focus on what brings her pleasure, on the glowing flush that gilds her cheeks.

When he lets her hair fall against her shoulders, she shivers, and he imagines each silken strand caressing her skin, an extension of his fingers.

Then, even before her reaction has calmed, he cups her breast in his palm, kisses his way down across her chest. She arches her chest against him, seeking friction, and he answers with his callused thumb over her nipple, swirling tiny circles until the rosy nub is peaked and straining, until she moans, covering her mouth with her hand.

“I don’t want you to be quiet,” he says, before he moves his attention to her other breast, this time taking it in his mouth. When she moans louder, tugging his hair, he kisses his way to her navel, and finally he reaches for those copper curls, first simply stroking them, and then, as she steps her feet a little wider to give him access, his fingers slip into the slickness of her sex.

As he strokes her, his fingers exploring her, hot and slick for him, he watches her face carefully, monitors each expression for any hint that she will want to stop. Instead, her head falls back and her toes begin to curl and she moves against him, positioning him over her clit, little noises like sobs rising in her throat with each swirling motion of his fingers.

Even as he touches her, he feels too far away from her. From the beauty and heat of her, nearly undone by him.

“Can I use my mouth?” he asks, the words barely more than a growl.

“Please.”

The need in the word rings through him and he lifts her onto his bed, parting her legs to give him access, and then he licks her, savoring the taste, sweet and musky and bright, the texture of her clit as he runs his tongue against it. Her moans echo inside her body and he can map her pleasure by the way she digs her fingers into his shoulder, her short fingernails pressed tight enough to leave marks. The only person he will allow to touch him like this.

He strokes his hand up the plane of her stomach, cupping her breasts as his mouth fills with the taste and heat of her, his tongue circling her as her pleasure builds and builds, her body going tense until she comes, moaning and bucking her hips against his mouth.

He kisses the insides of her thighs, his hands fitting against her waist as he moves to see the expression on her face.

Gwyn greets him with a lazy smile, the stroke of her fingers against his cheek.

“How was it?”

“Incredible,” she says, her smile going even brighter, her leg crossing over his. “When I touch myself, it’s never like that. That was like -- I don’t even have words.”

He reaches for her, cradling her against his chest.

There is probably something mates should discuss at this moment, something romantic and pure, but instead he asks:

“How do you touch yourself?”

“Usually I’m in bed, in the dark, and I can’t sleep.” Her fingers move over his tattoos, following the swirls of ink, and he imagines them in her sex, the callused fingertips against her slickness. “There was a long time, after the attack, when I tried never to think about that part of my body, but this summer, I started wanting again. And when I started -- the person I’d think of was you.”

“Good,” he says, pulling her hand over the place where his heart beats, unable to stop thinking of her, months ago, coming to an imagined version of himself. Wishing he could have replaced her fingers with his own.

She kisses him on the mouth, and he watches her pink tongue delicately taste the remnants of her orgasm on her lips. The sight of her curiosity, her satisfaction, is enough to make him groan against her mouth.

“Can I touch you now?” Her lips move against his, each word a caress.

“Please.” It’s less a request than a growl, an urging, and Gwyn reaches for him, running her thumb down his length, from the base of his shaft to the tip of his cock, swirling her fingertip in the drop of liquid there, spreading it across his head.

Her pale elegant fingers on him, touching every inch of his cock, are nearly enough to make him explode.

She cups his balls in her palm, studying them with little strokes that make his own pleasure build in the base of his spine, and then her hands are on his cock again and she straddles him, her knees at his hips.

“Show me what to do,” she says, her fingers closing lightly over his cock, and his hand is over hers, showing her the stroke, the pressure he likes.

“You’re a natural,” he says, holding on to his control as best he can. It’s been years since anyone else has touched him, and he can feel the impact of each of her fingers on him.

“So you keep telling me.” There’s that mocking tone he loves, punctuated by a kiss on his mouth, and then her lips are on the head of his cock while her fingers stroke him, her tongue lapping at the tip of him, licking down his length until he’s slick from her mouth, her ocean eyes bright as she watches him, trying to give him everything with those elegant fingers and plump lips, the pink tongue that’s unravelling him.

The pressure and ecstasy keep building at the base of his spine with each stroke of her fingers and swirl of her tongue, rising and rising until, pulling himself out of her mouth, he comes with a roar, golden light flooding his senses, filling the space between them.

He’ll never forget the look of triumph on Gwyn’s face, after, a desultory grin on her lips and triumph in her eyes, her chest marked with his come.

There’s a towel and water on the nightstand, and Azriel should be unnerved by the House’s prescience, but in this moment he’s grateful as he cleans Gwyn’s skin.

“How was it?” she asks as he passes the towel between her breasts.

“Perfect.”

She lets out that lazy smile and pulls him toward her on the bed. He holds her against his chest, loving the press of her bottom against his hips, the surprising fullness of it on her slender frame. His chin rests so easily on the crown of her head.

“I’m realizing everyone probably heard us,” she murmurs. Her cheeks are flushed from the thought, but she still reaches for his hand, their fingers intertwining.

“So far the House has spared us from Cassian and Nesta.” He feels the way her laugh moves through her body. “I think it will do the same for us.”

“At least I told Nesta and Emerie already.”

“I told Cassian.”

They both ask, “How did it go?” in the same moment, and then they laugh, and she says that Nesta and Emerie said they had predicted this for months now and then asked for a lot of details about his wingspan, and that Nesta had won her bet with Cassian.

There’s still Mor to actually tell, and of course Rhys and Feyre, but compared to all the other problems that swirl around them, he’s tempted to think that there are only these admissions to come, only the gentle teasing of his oldest friends. As Gwyn’s breathing evens with the onset of sleep and he covers them with his quilt, Azriel is filled with a warm contentment he’s not sure he’s felt since Amarantha first appeared.

Although his life has trained him to know better, that the monsters will descend or the mission will take some drastic turn or that everything might break between them, Azriel tells himself to ignore that voice inside him and lets himself drift off to sleep, his breath falling into rhythm with Gwyn’s.

Notes: I have a confession, which is that I love writing smutty Gwynriel scenes so much. There are just so many ways they can go, with their respective histories and personalities, and I feel like I could write a hundred of them and each one would be different. But of all the smutty Gwynriel scenes I've written, this is one of my favorites... though there's one coming up that I might like even more.

I'm excited to share it (and the rest of this fic) with you! Thank you so much for reading 🧡

For more theories, thoughts, and occasional sneak peeks, follow me on Instagram at house.of.hurricane or TikTok at houseofhurricane.

Taglist: @almosttenaciousmoon, @azrielbedara, @azrielsdarling13, @books0lover, @brown-and-weird, @camreadsum, @cozycomfyliving08, @girlbossenergy, @gwynrielsupremacy, @hlizr50, @imsointobooks, @katekatpattywack, @lightwood-bane13, @livelyblu, @lola-lightwood, @meher-sumedha, @mystical-blaise, @nervousninjasuit, @onemorenightdreamer, @rubyriveraqueen, @ruthieluvsbooks, @sanniegirl1214, @saramoonbeam, @secretlovelybeauty, @shisingh, @soffiiione, @thenerdywriter, @the-stars-eternal, @trashforazriel, @valkyriesbooks, @vassien-supremacy6, @vikingmagic33, @whoever-you-choose-to-love, @witching-by-the-willow

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

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kimsnnn · 4 years ago

Text

Part 2

Disclaimer: This post is in favor of my ship, Elriel. No hate, just an opinion. This is what makes sense to me. If this isn't your cup of tea, and it came up on your feed, no worries just skip please.

With all this in mind Elriel to me just seems so clear.

The enemy is Koschei and Vassa is the only one to be directly linked to and affected by him so she will be the one to defeat him, plan and give us insight from the inside because she is the one who is captive. She has a personal interest in defeating him and that victory and moment is rightfully hers to own.

She will get a book. Her being a firebird means nothing? why would people assume she won't have a conscious while in that form when Rhys, Tamlin and Helion do? Why do people believe that a story cant be developed and moved along as a firebird? Has any one ever read a werewolf book? Im soooo confused. I mean why is that a end all? Even as a firebird she can see and reveal so much, and as a person even more.

The main original characters that have a direct link to Feyre from the very beginning before Hybern, Amarantha, and ACOWAR are Nesta, Elain and Lucien. Those are the characters that make the most sense to have their own book. Not Tamlin who is of no importance to Feyre anymore. Who is of importance and who where her first family Lucien basically becoming her first brother. She is always concerned for these people. If you take a look at all of Feyre’s POV in ACOFAS its always showcasing her concern or confusion for Her sisters, Lucien and even Mor (possible novella). These three individuals (N&E&L) are the ones she has an original relationship with and the most history, a shaky relationship that has room to be improved on. These are the wildcards, the ones who have wronged her in some way, the ones who’s stories NEED to be told. Three different people three different stories.

If you also take a look at Rhys’ POV in order, you realize he talks to or refers to 5 people usually:

Cassian, Azriel, Mor, Tamlin & Lucien

Each of these first 5 POV also directly touches on what issues exactly are pertaining to them or could be pertaining to them if that had their own book OR how they may contribute to the whole over arching plot.

If we conclude everything from those first 5 chapters ( I'm not including the rest because its too much, and they also include these 5 characters regardless) of importance this is what we have and what each book may touch on.

1st POV: involves

-Cassian - Illyrian dissent, inequality, Nesta, queen Braiylln, training female Illyrians,

-Cassian’s role

2nd POV: involves

-Azriel-shadows/powers strength, Az’s past, confusion on shadowsinger abilities, Illyrian dissent/hate, Human queens, Hyberns people, Human lands, Vassa’s situation,

-Az’z emotions (& concealing of emotions) on : Lucien, Elain, Possibly Az’s mom and her whereabouts (Rosehall).

3rd POV:

-Tamlin/Lucien-SC and Tamlin current state and down fall, alliance with Tamlin, peace/future, Lucien’s and Tamlin’s relationship, Anger/Hate/Remorse/Defeat/Hope/Empty, Feyre

-Feyre-Tamlin, Rhys’ actions and remorse

-Jeweler(Neve)-no jewels for Feyre, Neve’s background

4th POV:

-Velaris estates along the Sidra before and after hybern,

-Mor: Rhys and mor’s relationship currently, Kier/Eris/CoN

-The CoN people occupied the Velaris estates (they left Hewn City before the division of the NC)

-Kiers upcoming visit to Velaris in Spring (the hewn city’s containment and curiosity)

-Mor’s Mother/ desire to leave the NC

-Mor’s Role

Rhys’ 1st POV which included Cassian and Cassian’s following POV/Chapter was a foreshadow to ACOSF completely. Everything touched was basically addressed in ACOSF. Rhys basically told Mor and Cassian to assume different jobs and roles (to lessen Azriel’s world load) in their chapters which came true in ACOSF.

A bond between Elain and Lucien does not mean they will have a book. If I'm honest they remind me a little of Nesyrn and Chaol who seemed like with time something could blossom between them but in reality just weren't for one another and were better off as friends. All that connects these two is an unwanted bond, a person they both have wronged yet care about (Feyre) and an incident that resulted in Elain’s trauma. Everyone thought Elain who is literally everything to Nesta, who Nesta would have sacrificed everything for, would be more involved, yet she wasn't even present in the majority of Nesta’s book, at least not as present as we thought she would be. But she was mentioned throughout ACOSF nearly in every chapter because Elain does and has impacted Nesta’s life completely.This is something I expect to happen for Elain’s book as well. Yes Lucien will appear but perhaps the purpose of his appearance would be to get closure and fill in questions left unanswered. If ACOTAR 5 is an Elriel book and not ACOTAR 6 then her book will also serve to set up for his book with Vassa.

Feyre’s relationship with the IC is fine and any issues can be resolved in the books of the others (like for example as Love interests) or in a novella.

Cassian had a POV, the second main role in ACOSF but.. ACOSF was Nesta’s story.

The same can be said for Elriel’s book as well as Vassien’s.

And yes a male can have a book like Chaol did but in my opinion it won't be Az with Gwyn being the second main POV. It will be Lucien with Vassa who has far more ties to the IC and to the over arching plot. Vassa at least has met Feyre the main character of the whole ACOTAR world.

Hypothetically speaking lets say Az does get a book and ends up with Gwyn and the plot is about the Illyrian camp. Their story would most likely be written as a novella if anything not an actual book, there is not many ties that Gwyn has so far to the whole plot at least not yet. But getting a novella still wouldn't make sense when we have characters, who are not only closer to the plot but also provide an opportunity to get info/support to win this war, like Mor who is spending time in Vallahan, and Tamlin who’s literal court is not only in shambles but unfortunately detrimental to the success of attaining peace.

I do think Gwyn is more important to this plot then most give her credit for but I dont believe that necessarily means shes due a book or a main POV especially over Vassa. And Emerie.

Vassa who has direct link to koschei the main issue, point and villain of the plot and Emerie who has a direct link to Illyria and its backward ways in everything most importantly on its stance of women and their roles.

SJM Set Elriel to be endgame because it just makes the most sense. Not only because of their connection, moments and relationship thus far but because that's what makes the most sense with this plot. There’s no spinoff in the works.

There’s no reason for Gwyn or ANYONE for that matter to be the one to defeat koschei over Vassa, no reason to have the hugest wedge between Elucien while building a bridge for Elriel, no reason to build and hint for Mor’s leave and put emphasis on Tamlin & the SC’s dire situation.

Has anyone considered if Lucien wants to even be HL ?

Lucien’s future as a highlord comes down to if he even wants to even become the Day Court’s High lord in the first place.

Lucien thought less of humans and was indifferent to them in ACOTAR yet now has found a home and friends among them. ‘

Truthfully the BOE’s work in the same way that the IC does and the Valkyerie.

Actually scratch that the Valkyerie work exactly like the BOE’s.

Yet can anyone imagine any of the Valkyrie leaving their group or be far from each other especially if one of their member’s is their possible love interest ?

They will choose each other and they will create a future where they are all together.

I don’t see lucien who has finally found stability and friends leaving the BOE’s to play high lord at Day court unless Vassa and Jurian decide to leave with him. Which seems unlikely. The only way I see that happening is if vassien truly becomes endgame resulting in Vassa going to Day court. But where does that leave Jurian.

I believe that after the Beron and AC issues are resolved, that Eris will ascend and become HL, Lady Autumn will leave to be FINALLY with Helion to be Lady Day 😍, and Lucien can enjoy his life in the mean time with his found family, stay as an emissary and possibly prepare to be Day’s HL down the line in the future.

#elain #elain archeron #elain x azriel #elriel #acotar 5 #vassien

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nestasgalpal · 4 years ago

Note

I am simply begging you to give us more moments where Emerie just insults Feyre

I actually got some ideas and if anyone whants to use them for a fic, I’m okay with that, just tag me so I can read it hehe

My headcanon after meeting Emerie in such a short scene and based on Cassian describing her as “Illyrian Nesta”, is that the Inner Circle’s perception of her is that “she is just like Nesta” Except that she is not. Nesta never starts things, she simply responds harshly to them. But Emerie does. So here we go:

Both Nesta and Emerie referring to Rhysand as “my/your sister’s husband” every single time and never aknowledging him ass High Lord, only as Nesta’s brother in law. But at the same time, Emerie referring to Feyre exclusively as “High Lady” because whenever Feyre goes to Illyria, that’s what she does, use her title and status to make herself important and keep Illyrians in line, therefore when they officially meet, Emerie is already fed up with that. When Feyre gets what her sister’s friend is doing and gets tired of it, she offers with fake politeness “you can just call me Feyre” and Emerie goes “no, but thank you anyways”.

Emerie is going to Velaris for the first time ever, so Feyre obviously gives her a tour that ends in her new manor. “And this is where we live the majority of the time, and where you are going to be staying” Emerie nods “Yes, Nesta told me about you switching houses depending on how many guests you have”. Feyre is taken with her guard down because Emerie has been in silence the whole time and she asumed the illyrian was admiring her house, not judging. “It’s actually a little more complex than that. We live here now, the Townhouse is still for family gatherings too, and we use the Hous of Wind for more formal visitors, those who are not actually family but still welcome into the city”. And Emerie turns to Nesta, who is unbothered and almost bored after the tour “That’s where you lived after the Cauldron thing, right?”. And Nesta just says “Naturally” in the driest way possible, making Emerie smile a little.

They are all having breakfast together and either there is an awkward silence in the room, or the Inner Circle members are talking to eack other and ignoring Nesta and Emerie. So Elain, who has realized her sister will move on from her and never come back from Illyria if she doesn’t show she wants her back, decides to start a conversation with Emerie. “I’ve only been to Windhaven once, but the view of the mountains was a delight. Illyria seems to have a wonderful landscape. Is it as beautiful from the air?”. And Emerie is like “I wouldn’t know”. And if it was already uncomfortable in the room, it gets worse, because nobody has told Elain about Illyrian women. Nobody has explained anything to her. “Have you never flown above the mountains?” And Emerie gets what has happened to her friend’s sister, but Rhysand is right there, and she got her wings clipped under his rule, so she just says “With what working pair of wings? Your sister’s?”

This one is not actually Emerie dragging Feyre, but there is this one time Feyre straight up asks Nesta if they are sleeping together, because they share the one bed Emerie has in her house above her shop. They do it so Nesta doesn’t have to live with Cassian or in a tent, but they are so close, Feyre and Rhysand want to know, and of course Feyre asks. Nesta doesn’t take her eyes from the book she is reading and says “I don’t have sex with my illyrian friend, if that’s what you are asking. I think you are mistaking me for someone else”.

Now for my Emeriel shippers out there: Azriel gets all shady because Emerie is insulting his family and tells her “you’ve made a mistake” and his shadows show all around, but with that resting bitch face that makes the IC think Nesta and Emerie are the same even if they are not, Emerie goes “I’ve made huge mistakes in my life, but at least I haven’t named my sword after my childhood crush”. I don’t know if this has been discussed but Azriel named his sword Truth Teller and Mor’s gift is truth but ANYWAYS, she keeps going “What are you gonna do if you ever meet someone else or even find your mate? Throw it in a lake?” -dramatic pause because she has the best comedic timing ever- “The sword, I mean.”

And finaly, the one time Rhysand called himself Death Incarnate in front of them while trying to sound intimidating. But intimidating Emerie and Nesa with words is almost impossible.

She looks at Nesta like they are in The Office and she is her camera, and Nesta looks back at her like “yep, told you”. Emerie pinches the bridge of her nose in silence like “Tht’s just so lame, sorry but I can’t-”

And of course Rhysand is quick to respond “Excuse me?” with his High Lord tone, but for Emerie he is not a High Lord, he is Nesta’s sister’s husband “You can’t just give that kind of name to yourself”.

So obviously Feyre comes in because they are disrespecting hEr MaTe “Actually, I gave it to him”. And Emerie has no chill “Now, that’s worse. You see how that’s worse, right?”.

NESTA comes in “My ex-fiance tried honey once”. Because they have worked through Nesta’s trauma together and she is okay mentioning him to the IC who didn’t know Nesta had been engaged in the first place and don’t know where to put their atention anymore. Elain is amused because she thinks fae giving names so extra to every single thing is too corny. “My ex-fiance actually called me nana”.

Emerie likes where the conversation is going, because she is a little more extroverted than Nesta, and she doesn’t mind being in the spotlight for a little longer if that gives her the chance of keep dragging someone. “That’s a bad one” She tells Elain “Kind of embarrassing, but hey” she shrugs “at least looking at you didn’t remind him of life ending. So... good enough”.

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ladynestaarcheron · 5 years ago

Note

Prompt idea: cassian and nesta’s first disagreement / fight as a couple (if it’s LPG verse i’ll be super happy but it’s up to you how you want to go about it hihi)

anything to make you super happy!! it’s lpg-verse, but you don’t really have to read lpg to understand it. it’s a few months after nesta goes to illyria with cassian.

and hey, has everyone signed up for the fandom-wide holiday gift exchange? it’s gonna be loads of fun and the deadline’s coming up, so please hurry!

---

In his half-millennium of life, Cassian has had plenty of occasions to look back and marvel at the stupidity of his youth. Like how he used to think garish scars and bruises were good ways to show girls he could fight. Or when he thought that he could just sleep off getting blackout drunk. Or when he loved War Week.

It’s not that he hates it, exactly. He may be the General Commander, but he’s still a soldier. Still addicted to the adrenaline of the drills. An intense desire to prove himself, even now, by besting anyone who crosses him in the ring.

But…he is the General Commander. And War Week isn’t just about him giving his all, it’s about ensuring the entire military is in top form. And considering a significant portion of the military just died a few months ago, and another part are actively trying to de-throne Rhys, and the trust he has spent centuries building with these people is falling through...well. It has not been the best week.

It hasn’t been a week, either—it’s the tenth day of this nightmare that it finally ends. All drills have been run, all reports filed, all meetings concluded with the grim confirmation of their worst suspicions: Hybern has weakened them considerably.

And that and all it entails will be there tomorrow morning. So tonight, he can go home, finally, and drown his sorrows…in Nesta.

Just thinking of her tugs his lips upwards. He’s barely slept all this time, always something to do, oversee, correct, and on and on and on, but it’s finally over for just a bit. It’s nearly six in the evening, and the first meeting to discuss reform is tomorrow at eleven, so he has till then with her.

He shivers, not because of the windchill, as he imagines what seeing her again will be like. Has she missed him as much as he’s missed her? Has she planned on welcoming him back into their bed, like he had at every spare moment? Maybe she’s even cooked for him. Maybe duck, like he always makes for her. Perhaps she’s set the table the same way he did on the night he first kissed her—properly, he means, without any imminent existential threat looming over them—with the fine china, like a real homecoming. Maybe she’s dressed up. If she’s dressed up, he should dress up, too. What if she’s laid out clothes for him? She’s always reading about grand romantic gestures, isn’t she? Perhaps she’s been inspired.

Every wild fantasy spurs him faster, and before long he lands at his house, throwing open the door before even setting both feet on the ground.

“Nesta!” he calls, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. Gods, he’s missed her so much.

But one look inside tells him there’s no romantic dinner awaiting him. There’s only a plate drying on the rack.

Even so, Cassian can’t keep the grin off his face. If Nesta’s not here, then she’s in their bedroom.

On any other day, he might’ve teased her right back and taken his time coming to see her, even made himself dinner until she gave up and came to see him, but it’s been ten very hellish days. He moves quickly to the room, as if participating in one of his drills.

The door’s closed, but he can smell her, feel her, and gives himself just a moment to adjust before he opens it—

Nesta. There, beautiful, alive, in bed, waiting for him, perfect—reading a book.

She doesn’t look up.

Cassian bites his cheek to keep from grinning. So that’s how she wants to play this.

“Hello, Nesta,” he drawls.

She dutifully ignores him, her dark curls bouncing slightly as she angles her head to the side to flip a page. Oh, how he’s missed this, seeing her read in bed. She sits beside him some evenings, head on his chest, one hand in his, the other holding her book.

“Did you miss me?”

At this, Nesta—finally—acknowledges his presence. She lifts her cool gaze to meet his and holds it for three seconds before looking back down at her book.

Cassian’s grin falters. That wasn’t very fun.

But he saunters up to her anyway, and, laying down on his side, reaches his hand over to slowly crawl up her thigh. “This wasn’t the warm welcome I was expecting, you know.”

Nesta jerks her leg away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, voice icy.

Cassian sits up immediately. This isn’t a game. He looks over her wildly, but her face and posture show only anger.

He reaches his hand out again, tentative, this time, and to hers, not her thigh. “Nesta,” he says, putting as much concern into his voice as he can without her accusing him of being condescending.

“How was War Week?” she shoots at him.

He blinks. “Awful,” he says, smiling uneasily. Has she heard something about it that upset her? He racks his brain, trying to think of what it might be…she knew Rhys was going to be there. Is she upset because they saw each other?

“Are you sure you’ve finished everything?”

He gives up rifling through everything. Nothing’s coming up, and frankly, he doesn’t want to waste anymore of the hours he has to spare with her arguing.

“What are you upset about?” he asks.

Nesta snaps her book shut and straightens her back. She faces him head-on, anger radiating off her like he imagined joy would this night. “You said it would be a week. It’s been ten days.”

Oh.

Right.

“I’m aware,” he says lightly. “It was only meant to go on for a week. But apparently, we’re all completely out of shape. Good news for anyone trying to overthrow the crown,” he adds, touching the tip of her nose. Her glare doesn’t falter, so he continues, in a much softer voice, “Do you really think I enjoyed finding out I had three more days of War Week, when I had planned our reunion out a thousand times in my mind? I wanted—“

“I don’t care what you wanted,” she hisses. “I want to know why I had to find out you weren’t coming back from Emerie instead of from you.”

“I couldn’t come back to tell you—“

“Is the art of letter writing too advanced for your brain to comprehend?”

There’s more than just ire in her stormy grey eyes. Cassian can sense pain, too. “I…I know I should’ve written, but I was just so busy. There was always something—and you know how stupid Illyrian males are, don’t you?” he says with a grin. “And obviously, you like it a lot, but I was never particularly into—“

“Is everything a joke to you?” she demands.

Cassian shuts his mouth. She hasn’t been angry at him like this since…before they started this—thing between them. These past few months have been so easy. Blissful. She doesn’t get mad anymore, only vaguely irritated, and even then, only to give him reason to appease her. But this is an argument. A fight.

How did they resolve those before they got together? Cassian can’t remember ever emerging victorious; only miserable and angry. Nesta’s favour is earned through months of good behavior alone.

But he doesn’t have months. He only has fourteen hours before he has to leave.

“Of course not,” he says, voice low. “It’s just I’ve missed you so much—“

“And how do you think I felt?”

There’s that pain again, etched more clearly on her face now. It thins out her cheeks and tightens her jaw.

“Do I even matter to you? Or do you think you can just waltz in and out as you please and—“ Cassian cuts her off with a tight grip on her hands.

“Don’t say things like that,” he says, serious. “You know what you are to me.”

“You couldn’t find the time to send word you were going to be three days late,” she says, not trying to break out of his hold but not pulling him closer, either. She bites her lip for a moment, hesitating, before she says, “And you haven’t even apologized.”

He goes through their conversation quickly in his mind and swears inwardly. “I’m sorry, Nesta,” he says. “For being late and for not telling you and for not apologizing right away.”

Nesta’s shoulders relax slightly and she pulls her hands away from him to clasp them tightly in her lap. “Well, I don’t want to forgive you.”

This, he decides, is not the right time to suggest all the ways he can make it up to her. Instead he moves closer, and says, “I didn’t write because I was sure I would be here. I spent every second of the overtime doing everything I need to so that I could come back as fast as possible. I didn’t think things would keep coming up, and each time they did, I was sure that it would be the last.”

“Well,” Nesta says, “you’re very ill-prepared for war.”

Cassian grins. “You can see why we needed the extra practice.”

“Hmph,” she says, not smiling. “For future reference…don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t,” he says immediately. “I promise.”

This calms her considerably, and she leans back against the headboard. “All right, then,” she says, prim. “You’re forgiven.”

His heart skips a beat. His next breath of air feels cooler, more refreshing, somehow. He hadn’t realized just how anxious this has made him. But he doesn’t tell her, doesn’t thank her, worried of what he might say and how she might react. So he puts a hand on her thigh again. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear any of my other reasons? They’re very convincing.”

“No,” she says decisively. “But you can start proving your worthiness right now.”

He grins again, and then he does.

Later, tracing lines up and down her stomach, he says, “You know, you were only angry because you missed me so much.”

Nesta sniffs. “I most certainly did not.”

And there’s the game he’s been waiting for. Definitely worth the extra three days. Although he’ll never catch her off guard like that again. Besides, Nesta’s far more fun to play with when she’s the one setting the rules, anyway.

#asks #anon #acotar ficlet #nessian #fic prompt #this was fun!! thank you for this:)#brought to you by someone who used to hate war week with all her heart and soul

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