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bookofmirth · 1 year

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I’m not an elriel, but I strongly disagree w your post suggesting that Elain isn’t tied to any ACOTAR and CC connections (and thus won’t be featured in HOFAS). I’m also a lil confused as to how being a Valkyrie, or having connections to Ramiel, indicates that a character will have a part to play in HOFAS.

But as for Elain, there is substantial evidence to suggest that she is a mystic. In SJM’s old Pinterest board, there was a plethora of imagery that tied Elain to Sleeping Beauty - the mystics ‘travel’ to different worlds via sleep and dreaming. There was even an image in SJM’s Pinterest board of a girl with her eyes closed, but you could see a galaxy with different planets whirling underneath her eyelids - an image that SJM labelled as Elain.

Additionally, there are three sister peaks in Prythian; the mountain that Amrantha ruled from (UTM), Ramiel, and the Prison Island mountain. Feyre’s story featured UTM, Nesta’s story featured Ramiel… which leaves the third sister mountain - the Prison Island mountain - to Elain. As I assume you’re already aware, the Prison Island is the Dusk Court - an area that hosts the most pivotal connection between ACOTAR and CC (and the broader multiverse). It’s also the area that most strongly connects to Bryce, considering that she is the heir to the Starborn fae, and Queen Theia’s direct descendant (Bryce’s scent is even of dusk!)

Elain is also Cauldron-made. She too is connected to the Dread Trove (and ACOSF hinted that Elain is more than willing to be involved in this narrative). This is significant, as the Horn on Bryce’s back is heavily theorised to be the fourth Dread Trove item.

Although nothing is a guarantee (especially knowing SJM!), I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss Elain’s importance to the story. Given that SJM has said multiple times that she has plans for Elain’s book… I’d assume that SJM intends on tying Elain to the upcoming multiverse in some way - perhaps more than any other Archeron sister! :)

I've said in a few posts that I don't think Elain will feature, so I'm not sure which one you are referring to. I suspect it is this one, since it's been going around? It was written over a year ago and there is some context for it - namely the post that was linked within it. That might answer some of your questions. Either way, I'm definitely not quick to dismiss Elain's role. I've put way more thought into it than I should have, considering I'm not even a CC stan haha.

Sorry my response got quite long, it's just that I don't think I've articulated a lot of this before!

Your third paragraph answers your question about Carynthian/Valkyries/Ramiel! Because that mountain is probably going to be important at some point; this post that I had linked within the other also talked specifically about why the Illyrians are important, as well as Ramiel. The Blood Rite is a Rite to get to the top of Ramiel and touch the stone. There seems to be some connection between Illyrians, Ramiel, the daglan/Asteri, and the Blood Rite, perhaps Enalius? I don't think I have a full post about Ramiel and the Illyrians post-hosab. I did write this one before hosab came out, and I should probably update it. I might have somewhere, but I can't remember. But basically I absolutely agree with that third paragraph, and that's why I think it's important that certain characters have made it to the top and touched the stone. There is something there, and the characters who already have a connection to Ramiel seem the most likely to continue being connected. The Blood Rite/being Carynthian is just one way that some of them are connected.

Also, fwiw, I think that it's important that Bryce learned this information just before going to Prythian. There is a difference between what we, the readers, know, and what the individual characters know. That's going to bring me to a point about Elain being a seer in a minute. But before I get there, Byrce learned a lot of this information about the land of dusk, about the Asteri experiments, about them creating what we presume are the Illyrians before the Illyrians rebelled, she learned about the Starborn fae coming from Prythian. All of that was basically dumped in her lap before she ended up in the land in question, which to me, makes all of that information incredibly important in what's to come.

I don't think we know that the prison is where the land of dusk was? (Not to be picky, but it's not the Dusk Court - the land of dusk existed before the courts were established.) People have theories, but we don't know yet. All we know is that it's an island off Prythian. I asked bookclub to be sure and @yazthebookish thinks that it could be the island that is to the west of Prythian, in between the Night and Day Courts - because dusk.

Okay so back to the Elain issue - of course it's possible that she will play some role in hofas. I just don't think it's likely. A lot of things are possible, but that doesn't mean they will happen, and based on what facts we know - not speculation - other characters have a much clearer, solid connection to what is going to happen in hofas.

The thing with her being a seer could be a potential link, but I have a few counterpoints:

What Bryce knows about the mystics is not positive, and she may not connect that practice with Elain's seer powers. When I mentioned before that Bryce's knowledge going into Prythian is important, this is part of it. The way that Elain is living and using her powers is a far cry from what is happening with the mystics as they create their map and wander through the worlds all drugged up and having given up their autonomy in exchange for financial security. Plus, we don't know for sure that seer powers and mystics are a one-to-one correlation. Which leads me to my next point:

Elain hasn't been using her powers. Not only that, but the IC has been very reticent to letting her help them in any way. IMO her story is going to require breaking away from the way that they coddle her, and that's not going to happen in another series.

We don't know that seer powers in Prythian would have anything to do with traveling between worlds, and that's the main goal right now - Bryce needs to get out of Prythian and to Hel, or back to Midgard. Is it possible that Elain's seer powers could help? Yeah, it is. But just because things work one way in Midgard doesn't mean they are going to work the same way in Prythian. And let's be honest, sjm does the absolute bare minimum explaining the magic in acotar. It seems much more likely that the people who have already been researching other worlds, explicitly, in Prythian, would hold those keys to answering Bryce's main challenge right now, which is getting the eff out of Prythian.

Regarding Elain being Made, there is the second point I made above about people not allowing her to help, but there is no reason that Elain would be required to use her Made status to find the fourth trove object when, as you mentioned, it likely doesn't really need to be found. It fell into their laps. Plus, Nesta and Feyre are still Made. Nesta is in a bonus. Nesta also has the tattoo. Nesta is still a more likely candidate to work with any trove-related things.

My thinking that Elain won't be very present in hofas is based on the things we know for sure: she wasn't present at the end of hosab, she isn't present in a bonus (that we know of yet), she hasn't been using her powers, she hasn't been allowed to help, and there are other characters who already have a much clearer connection to what is happening in CC.

If we were to do this in a mathy way, I think that we could give each character a point for how many things they have that potentially connect them to the hofas plot, but I would give more points to facts we are already sure about, over speculation. And while Elain wouldn't have zero points, other characters would have far, far more.

I am aware that sjm has said she's working on Elain's book. I think most of us are, and it would be pretty poor planning if sjm hadn't been thinking about how Elain will fit into all of this, but I just don't think that we have reason to believe it has anything to do with other worlds, not when the visions we know she's had thus far are related to the current acotar conflict. Is it possible? Yes!

But sjm has also said that she came up with the crossover where the characters would interact with each other to this extent while she was writing hosab, not before! Which means that if she does connect Elain to other worlds in the ways you are suggesting, it's a retcon. It wasn't planned ahead of time. She literally changed acosf to make space for the crossover in hosab (e.g., Rhys worrying about someone else coming through à la Aelin in the feysand chapter), and yet nothing happened with Elain in acosf to make her connection to CC seem more likely. It would have been the perfect opportunity to have done so, and yet if you remove Elain from the acosf plot, nothing would be different.

fwiw, I don't really care who you ship! As long as you aren't rude, and you weren't!

#hofas #ask #anon #lots of things are possible #but this post is a good example of why i don't usually dabble in theories #I like to work with facts #because otherwise so many things are technically *possible*#but they aren't all likely #elain #acotar/cc #long post tag #fwiw I had to double check a lot of this stuff #I don't just know it off the top of my head #even if this post makes it seem like I have everything memorized haha #i might have some details wrong #feel free to let me know but I tried

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vidalinav · 3 years

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One thing that I think acosf kept consistent was that in previous books Nesta made a difference in everything. She was significant even when she was not the main character or had an active role in any decision making.

Feyre in the first book references Nesta more than anyone. Albeit not for good reasons, but when she learns that Nesta tries to go after her, that makes a significant difference in Feyre’s next move. She goes back and continues with plot because of what Nesta says. She shifts the narrative. Outside of this, she’s also singled out by being the one’s who favored by their mother, the one who can withstand glamour, and the one who chooses to risk her life for Feyre if she’d actually gotten past the wall. She’s the person who is “made different.”

In acomaf, the person who immediately goads at Cassian, who is referenced to have some future altering affect on the relationship between Mor, Cassian, and Azriel which existed for years is just the introduction of Nesta. Just her complete devotion to keeping the humans safe is enough for Cassian to lay his life to her cause. Later, Nesta is not the only one to be dipped into the cauldron, but she’s the only one who takes. The only one who’s vendetta, her risen middle finger, scares the King of Hybern. She makes two enemies that day. She again shifts every plot point later, because of this power and experience.

In acowar, she’s the one who literally does nothing and we have Amren who says “when you erupt, make sure it’s felt across worlds.” The Bone Caver speaks of her, of the imminent power. Just the mention of an insult from Rhys, is enough to make an argument between Feysand. Later, Nesta saves them all. If not by telling her story to the high lords, but by being the distraction. That’s her plan. She doesn’t stab the King of Hybern, but Hybern would not be dead at all, there would be no opportunity to even get that close, if Nesta had not decided to tell them to use her as a distraction, knowing full well that it was some sort of sacrifice.

In acofas then, her depression irritates them. She’s in like 10 pages of the whole book and yet she is the person they discuss over and over again, because her attitude affects them all. They can’t leave her alone because none of them can be completely happy, when Nesta is not happy. That’s her power. Nesta makes Elain, and Feyre, and Cassian upset and unsatisfied which means that anyone related to them like Mor or Rhys or Amren or even Azriel are also not satisfied. Their group also functions with compliance, so no matter what she is the deviant. She is the singular.

So in acosf, this continues, because literally all Nesta does is start training and she convinces priestesses who don’t leave the Library to come train with her. She convinces Emerie, the first willing Illyrian female to fight. She is the reason Gwyn leaves for even a moment. She helps the IC once, not even because she really wants to, and she’s not using very much power and yet she begins to find three of the most dangerous items in Prythrian and then makes three more. She went to the prison and just killed a death god when Cassian’s fully certain he’s probably going to die. She is the reason why her friends make it to the top to Ramiel. They would not have without her. Even in terms of like minutia of everyday life, Cassian knows this blacksmith all of these years and only Nesta gets him to be a little softer. Only because of Nesta, do we become aware of a Illyrian male who goes against the norm. Eris immediately knows that Nesta is the true prize as much as Lanthys and the Bone Carver. Nesta is the only one Mother Blessed. The only who has and can stop time and who saved all of their lives once again.

So in conclusion, Nesta is literally the main character of this whole series. She plays the Aelin or the Bryce. She is the “chosen” one. It’s not technically anyone else. They may get a pov, they may steer plot, and we may like them a lot and their romance, but the person who plays that typical role of the hero arc and who influences the story in its entirety is Nesta Archeron.

#nesta archeron

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yazthebookish · 3 years

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HOSAB:

She read the next page, with a drawing of a Fae female. They did not see the old enemy who offered a hand through space and time. Like a fish to bait, they came, and they opened the gates to us willingly. They walked through them—to Midgard—at our invitation, leaving behind the world they knew.

“The Fae—Queen Theia and her two foolish daughters—realized that, though too late. Her people were already here, but she and the princesses discovered where my siblings had hidden the access points in their world.” Rage rippled through his every word. “Your Starborn ancestors shut the gates to stop us from invading their realm once more and reminding them who their true masters are. And in the process, they shut the gates to all other worlds, including those to Hel, their stalwart allies. And so we have been trapped here. Cut off from the cosmos. All that is left of our people, though our mystics beneath this palace have long sought to find any other survivors, any planets where they might be hiding.”

“Why do you think we allowed you to live this spring? You are the key to opening the doors between worlds again. You will undo the actions of one ignorant princess fifteen thousand years ago.”

An isle of near-permanent twilight, the home world of her breed of Fae … A land of Dusk.

“So that star will lead us back to that world. Through you. They overthrew our brethren who once ruled there—we have not forgotten. Our initial attempt at revenge was foiled by your ancestor who also bore that star on her chest. The Fae have still not atoned for the deaths of our brothers and sisters. Their home world was rich in magic. I crave more of it.”

ACOSF:

“Nesta studied the carvings in the floor. They all seemed to spiral toward one point. “I think these are stars,” she breathed. “Constellations.” And like a golden sun, the Harp lay at the center of the system. “This is the Night Court,” Cassian said drily. But it felt … different from Night Court magic somehow.

She had the creeping feeling she’d been brought here. Not by the Cauldron or the Mother or the Harp. By something vaster. Something that stretched into the stars carved all around them.

Its cool, light hands guided her wrists as she picked up the Harp. Her fingers brushed the icy metal. The Harp hummed against her skin, as if it still held its final note, from the last time it had been used—

Fae screamed, pounding on stone that hadn’t been there a moment before, pleading for their children’s sakes, begging to be let out let out let out—

Nesta had the sensation of falling, tumbling through air and stars and time—

It was a trap, and our people were too blind to see it—

Eons and stars and darkness plunged around her—

The Fae clawed at stone, tearing their nails on rock where there had once been a door. But the way back was now forever sealed, and they begged as they tried to pass their children through the solid wall, if only their children could be spared—”

“Emerie’s eyes shone. “Long ago—so long ago they don’t even have a precise date for it—a great war was fought between the Fae and the ancient beings who oppressed them. One of its key battles was here, in these mountains. Our forces were battered and outnumbered, and for some reason, the enemy was desperate to reach the stone at the top of Ramiel. We were never taught the reason why; I think it’s been forgotten. But a young Illyrian warrior named Enalius held the line against the enemy soldiers for days. He found a natural archway of stone amongst the tangle of boulders and made that his bottleneck. He died in the end, but he held off the enemy long enough for our allies to reach us. This Rite is all to honor him. So much of the history has been lost, but the memory of his bravery remains.”

“They were based on truth. Based on ancient, near-primordial beings who existed here before the High Fae split into courts, before the High Lords. Some call them the First Gods. They were beings with almost no physical form, but a keen, vicious intelligence. Humans and Fae alike were their prey. Most were hunted and driven into hiding or imprisonment ages ago. But some remained, lurking in forgotten corners of the land.”

My mind is processing.

#hosab spoilers

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princessofmerchants · 3 years

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~25 ACOSF Days of Solstice~

“You know, our god—the first of the Illyrians—held the ground against enemy hordes right where you’re standing.” There wasn’t a scratch on him. No sign of exhaustion despite the climb. Bellius smirked. “He drew a line in the dirt as well.” He nodded toward it. “Nice little touch.” Nesta hadn’t known that tidbit of their history. But she revealed nothing. She became blood and dirt and pure determination. “It didn’t end well for Enalius,” Bellius went on. “He died after defending this spot for three days. Climbed with his guts hanging out to the sacred stone at the top and died there. It’s why we do this stupid thing. To honor him.” She still didn’t speak. But Bellius’s eyes drifted to the peak above. Displeasure narrowed them. “My crippled cunt of a cousin and that half-breed disgrace this sacred place.” A flutter of light from the summit washed over Bellius’s features. Nesta’s lips curled. Widened into a smile at Bellius’s growl. Gwyn and Emerie had touched the sacred stone and been winnowed away by its magic. “Seems like you didn’t win,” Nesta said to Bellius at last.

—ACOSF Ch. 71

The chapters are super short here at the end of both the Blood Rite and ACOSF as a whole. I'm highlighting this bit today so I can share some theories about Enalius, Cassian, Ramiel, and Nesta.

They aren't very detailed, my theories. Just impressions. But here they are:

Enalius held what becomes the Pass of Enalius (which Nesta is at present holding too), then, fatally wounded, he climbed to the top of Ramiel and summarily died.

There was already a sacred stone atop Ramiel which Enalius was trying to reach. Whether it yet had any powers, similar or not to the winnowing power of the stone in the present (which we are told is specific to the Blood Rite, a later historical development), we do not know.

The Blood Rite is to honor Enalius who the Illyrians revere as a god.

Cassian as the General of the Illyrian armies is compared to Enalius in his fighting abilities.

Enalius dies right next to the sacred stone. The legend does not say whether he touched it or not.

Ramiel is considered a sacred and powerful mountain along with the Middle and the Prison.

My impression is, a power transfer of some kind took place at Enalius's death. The sacred stone became distinctly powerful in that moment.

Whether he was a god before, after, or both is also a detail that feels significant, but which we do not have knowledge about at this time.

The parallels between Enalius and Cassian in ACOWAR point to Cassian having a unique and personal connection to Enalius. Descendant? Reincarnation? Hard to say with the amount of information we have.

So what's all this have to do with Nesta?

When she was forcibly Made and turned Fae in the Cauldron, she ripped some of the Cauldron's power away in rageful vengeance for the violation she was experiencing in that moment. Her own powers, born from that ripped away power, develop over the later books and are identified as death-like, related to death in some way.

But they also lead her to Make: the House, Ataraxia her sword, two other blades, and the friendship bracelet charms that serve as a beacon between Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie in the Blood Rite.

As we know (because this is a reread of ACOSF for me), Nesta will soon magically summon Ataraxia as she continues to hold the Pass of Enalius. (Edited to strike through this bit because it turns out I was misremembering this part.) And we also know she never makes it to the top of Ramiel and never touches the sacred stone.

And finally, Nesta is singular in that she can safely wield and control the Dread Trove, a collection of Made objects with great power.

Oh, and Cassian is her mate.

Again, I can't confidently say what picture these puzzle pieces make, but that they do in fact relate to one another in a definitive way is really clear to me.

Is the sacred stone at the top of Ramiel Made? Was it Made when Enalius died in front of it? What would have happened had Nesta touched it?

And is it significant that the singular person who can wield Made objects, and who did not yet touch the stone at the top of Ramiel, has for her mate the Illyrian who seems to channel Enalius?

Inquiring minds want to know 👀

25 ACOSF Days of Solstice Masterlist

#a court of silver flames #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #pass of enalius #enalius #ramiel #blood rite #dread trove #acotar theory #acosf quote advent calendar #acosf reread #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #a court of wings and ruin #acowar

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heyovivi · 3 years

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Miryam and Drakon

Okay there a few things that stick out to me when it comes to the story of Miryam and Drakon and how they won the war and defeated the Queen of the Black Lands.

So, in my humble opinion Miryam and Drakon’s story is loosely reminiscent of ACTOAR’s sister series, Throne of Glass, while also having hints of the story of Moses sprinkled in as well (especially when they split the sea to escape the Queen’s forces so the slaves of the Black Lands could be free from her tyrannical rule).

Now first I’m going to recite the story as best I can with what limited knowledge there is in the books.

From what we know, Miryam was a half-fae half-human slave born in to the Black Lands under the tyrannical rule of a blood thirsty Queen. Upon the Queen's engagement to Prince Drakon (of the Seraphim), she gifted Miryam to him, allowing him to finally see the true nature of his betrothed. Soon after, Drakon set Miryam free and fled the Queen as well, joining forces with Jurian three years afterwards who by that time was in a relationship with Miryam.

After fleeing the Black Lands, Miryam joins up with human rebels led by Jurian. As the wars drags on, Miryam and Jurian become lovers and she also builds budding relationships with members of Rhysand's Inner Circle, Morrigan being one of Miryam's most notable companions through the war.

Three years after breaking his engagement to the Queen and searching for Miryam, Drakon allies himself with Jurian's forces and during one battle he is struck and Miryam, who is a healer among Jurian's ranks, tends to his wounds.

As the war continued, Jurian concocted a plan to seduce Clythia, a general to Hybern's legions and the sister of Amarantha. Depending on whose telling the story, whether it be Mor or Jurian, Miryam was fine with the arrangement and encouraged him to do so if it meant the freedom of her people. However, Mor suggests otherwise and that Jurian's relationship with Clythia and changes in his attitude is what ultimately led to Miryam leaving him. Either way, after Miryam broke things off, and later fell in love with Drakon who already had feelings for her at that point. Soon after, they discovered that they were mates and got married the same night Clythia was killed by Jurian.

Seeking revenge, Amarantha kidnapped Miryam, hoping to lure Drakon, however Rhysand risked his neck in hopes to let her get away and in return most of his legions got killed and the rest, including him, were captured and tortured by Amarantha.

Towards the end of the war, Miryam, along with Drakon, his army, and Morrigan, marched into the Black land to free the human slaves. After successfully breaching the Queen's forces they marched their people through the desert and to the Erythrian Sea, where their ships were destroyed by the Queen of the Black Lands. With the Queen's forces on their tails, Drakon and his soldiers used magic to split the sea, clearing a pathway through for the slaves to escape while he and his men fended off the Queen's coming army. However, Miryam refused to flee, and followed Drakon into battle where she struck by a spear thrown by the Queen herself.

As the magic wore off the sea came crashing down, Miryam was rescued by Nephelle who carried her to safety. Despite her efforts though, Miryam bled out from her wound, and Drakon, knowing of a sacred island that harbored a powerful object made by the Cauldron, saved Miryam from death and used the object to resurrect her, turning her into a Fae.

Afterward, Miryam and Drakon let the world believe that the sea claimed their lives but instead they lived peacefully away with only members of the Inner Circle knowing the truth of their continued existence on Cretea.

"I fought side by side with Miryam in the War, fought beside her as Jurian's ambition and bloodlust drove him mad, and drove them apart. Drove him to torture Clythia to death, then battle Amarantha until his own...I marched back into Black Land with Miryam to free the slaves left in that burning sand. The slavery she had herself escaped. The slaves Miryam had promised to return to free. I marched with her--my friend. Along with Prince Drakon's forces legion. Miryam was my friend, as Feyre is now..." (Morrigan, A Court of Mist and Fury, pg. 388)

Now it is entirely possible we don't have the full story and it is possible we won't get the full story. However, I firmly believe that the next books are going to be first, Azriel, second, the novella which will probably focus mainly around Mor, and then finally Elain.

Now, if Azriel's story is focused mainly around the Illyrian conflict then it is somewhat hard to decipher where the story may go afterwards. However, I do think that SJM purposefully structures her novellas as the blueprint for future books. So, if the next novella is Mor's then perhaps we'll get more to the story of her past, I.E. the war.

Now, it could all just be oversight but there are so many unanswered questioned when it comes to Drakon and Miryam's tale.

Such as what was the object made by the Cauldron that healed Miryam and turned her fae?

You can't tell me that Drakon just happens to know of a magical item stashed at some unnamed island that can just happen to heal any wound. Plus it was made by the Cauldron so does that essentially mean that this mysterious object is a dead trove? Perhaps the fourth? Many have speculated that the mysterious unnamed object at the top of Ramiel could also be the fourth dead trove but I find it interesting that the unnamed cure Drakon used was also made by the Cauldron and also exhibits it's power of reanimation. Then for some reason it's never mentioned again.

Not even when Feyre was dying at the end of ACOSF due to her high risk pregnancy.

This could either be because SJM forgot that she wrote in there or maybe there are limits to the objects power.

Next questioned.

The Queen of the Black Lands.

She definitely gives me Maeve vibes but one thing is clear: we don't know if she died. In the books it never specifies whether she died and I think someone named the Queen of the Black Lands would play a more prominent role.

I also think that it's very interesting how her territory now belongs to the human queens, especially Queen Vassa.

The Black Lands were described to border on the southern parts of the Continent and what is a Queen without her territory. More importantly who might she had gone to for help?

Now, at this point I'm throwing a theory out but by this time Koschei would've already been on his island--probably already planning his escape. Who knows, maybe there is a reason why he specifically turned Vassa into a bird of fire. It's easy to assume that the other Queens would quickly fall in line as long as they get their promise of youth and power, but Vassa wasn't so easy to convince making her an obstacle. Perhaps the Queen of the Black Lands is still alive and working with the enemy to reclaim her throne.

But then that begs the question of who is the Queen of the Black Lands.

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar thoughts #acotar theories #koschei acotar #koschei #Sarah j maas #sjm

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thebluemartini · 4 years

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A Monolith Between Them - Part IV {Nessian}

*Note: This is a post from 2018 that somehow got deleted! I’m just adding it back to my tumblr :)

TITLE: A Monolith Between Them

PREVIOUS PARTS: Part I, Part II, Part III

FIC LENGTH: 4 Parts

FIC SYNOPSIS: Post-ACOFAS. After living in the Illyrian Mountains for six months, Nesta decides she wants to perform the Blood Rite. Cassian isn’t too pleased.

*This fic is also posted on AO3 and FF.

A/N: Hooray! It’s the final part…and oh my stars, this final chapter was a total beast to write and edit! It’s so long, haha. I feel like I’m not so great at writing more action-y scenes, which is why I was nervous about writing about the Rite in the first place. Hopefully it came out okay! And I hope you enjoy this final chapter :) It’s a doozy!

Part IV - Together

Day Seven of the Blood Rite:

By some miracle, she had made it to Ramiel.

For the past two days, she did not stop despite the fact that her body begged and begged her to. Her empty stomach made it difficult for her to find the energy to go on. The wound in her thigh and the bruises and scrapes on her arms grew more tender and raw as they rubbed against her leather clothing and the stone of the monolith. Her hands kept cramping. Her eyes demanded to be shut. The cold air that blew around her sent shivers through her entire body. That dark voice within her still repeated “You’re weak” over and over in her mind.

However, Nesta remained strong and tenacious.

She still had no idea how much time she had left to reach the top of Ramiel…or if she even had any time left.

Ascending Ramiel was the toughest part yet, as its incline was nearly completely vertical. She had been forced to constantly grab hold of the jagged rocks jutting from it to stay on the enormous stone. So many times, her feet nearly slid out from under her, or her hands nearly lost their grip. Being without water for many hours left her lips chapped and her mouth dry.

She was nearing the top of one side of the monolith. Once she reached it, she would still have to hobble or crawl up the slope to reach the summit and the black stone that she needed to touch to complete the Rite.

Once the top of the monolith was within her reach, she stretched out her arms to grab hold of the edge. Summoning all her remaining strength, she pulled herself up, using her feet to help push herself upward. She managed to get her upper body on the flat surface, where she found a large stone blanketed by snow to grab hold of and help yank the rest of her body up.

Laying on her back upon the snowy ground, Nesta momentarily closed her eyes and panted from the exertion of her climb. It felt like it took an eternity to get that far, and she still had a bit more to go.

Suddenly, the sun that she felt shining upon her eyelids seemed to suddenly go away.

Nesta’s eyes shot open to find a tan-skinned Illyrian male standing before her, eyeing her with a look of disdain. “I’m certainly not going to let Cassian’s whore complete the Rite,” he grumbled and moved his foot to kick her.

Before his foot made contact with her stomach, Nesta turned on her side and tightly grabbed the large stone nearby to hang on. At the impact of his foot, Nesta let out a long wail as the force sent her legs to hang off the edge. Fury raged through her as the male kept kicking at her, trying to knock her off the monolith.

She forced her eyes to stay open as she attempted to analyze his movements. When he wasn’t expecting it and his foot came toward her, she seized his foot instead. The sudden weight upon his foot when he tried to pull it back sent him tumbling to the ground on his back.

Nesta tugged on his leg to help bring her whole body back up on the cliff. She scrambled to stand up and limped away from the monolith’s edge. Her thigh wound felt like it was completely inflamed.

“You bitch,” the male, having recovered from his fall, said as charged toward her and tackled her to the ground from behind. Nesta squirmed face-down beneath him as he moved his hands around her neck in an attempt to suffocate her.

But Nesta was quick to jerk her head back, knocking it roughly into his chin and causing him to release her. She then placed her palms against the ground and popped her upper body up, causing him to slide off her back.

However, now he was on top of her legs, still pinning her to the ground. Nesta tried to kick him, but the weight of him anchored her down and her legs were too weak. He stretched out his arm and picked up a nearby rock and pounded it repeatedly against her booted feet.

As she screamed, Nesta twisted her upper body so she could start whacking at him with her hand, but her hits seemed to have no effect on him at all. There was no strength in her slaps.

He ended up tossing away the rock and grabbing one of her hands when it came at him, tugging it toward himself as he stood up. Nesta quickly turned her body over so she was on her back. But the male came around to where her head was and kneeled one leg down on the ground. He pulled her arm out across his thigh and pushed down on it until a loud pop from her elbow joint was heard. A cry of anguish escaped her lips as the pain surged within her arm.

Dropping her injured arm, he moved to the other side of her, preparing to repeat his previous action on her other limb. Nesta kept her arm against herself and refused to let it be pulled away from her. But it looked like another idea appeared in the Illyrian’s mind, and he decided to head toward her feet instead. When he leaned down to grab them, Nesta kneed his chin, sending him stumbling back. In a quick motion, Nesta unsteadily rose off the ground and onto her now battered feet, ignoring the pain she felt.

He came charging after her once more, looking like he was determined to dive for her legs and hoist her off the ground. Sticking out her good arm against his shoulder, she halted him and curled her arm around his neck. With her arm wrapped around him, she fell back onto the ground, taking him with her. Then, she lifted her knee to smash it into his groin, causing him to let out a muffled yelp. She kneed him between the legs once more with such force that she flipped him over her body. A cracking sound was heard when he collided with the ground upon his back.

He lied there groaning, with his eyes tightly shut. But he did not move. In fact, it looked like he was unable to move.

Nesta tried to catch her breath and steady her racing heart. She gingerly rolled up the sleeve of her injured arm, then scooped up some snow from the ground beside her to hold it against her elbow joint. She grimaced as she did so, but she hoped the coolness of the snow would at least help reduce the swelling.

Looking up, she noticed the sun was setting…

Who knew if this was her final night to make it to the black stone? If this Illyrian male was on the monolith too, it must have been close to the end of the week of the Rite…

With a grunt, she turned her body over so she was now on her knees. The pain within her thigh was still there from the impaled stick, but not as strong as the pain that was throbbing through her arm and her aching feet.

But she couldn’t think about the pain. She had to keep moving. Putting the pressure on her knees and the palm of her unharmed arm, she crawled using three of her limbs.

It was the final day of the Rite, and Cassian was utterly restless.

There was an ache within him that no beverage or tonic could soothe. His anxiety could not be eased, and the frustration and regret he felt toward himself for the past mistakes he’d made with Nesta were at an ultimate high.

He certainly didn’t have any time for the taunts that were thrown his way that day either. As soon as he rose and dressed for the day, he stormed out of his cabin and headed toward the heart of the camp. Along the way, a few Illyrian males cackled and heckled him by asking where the “witch” or his “whore” was, implying that there was no way Nesta would survive. Each of those Illyrians were promptly punched in the jaw and knocked down into the snow.

Once he reached the center of the camp, Cassian paced around the unlit firepit with his fists clenched at his sides.

When he, Azriel, and Rhys had completed the Rite, their touch upon the black stone had immediately transported them back to the middle of their camp. The same would happen for Nesta if she made it.

The aches he felt throughout his body grew stronger. While clutching his stomach, Cassian plopped himself on the snowy ground beside the pit. He sat cross-legged as he prayed to the gods that Nesta was safe and would complete the Rite.

With his eyes constantly scanning the area around him, Cassian waited.

And hoped.

Nesta continued to crawl up the steep incline to the summit of Ramiel. The sky was getting darker and darker.

Her bones kept pleading for her to stop and give up, especially with her body constantly losing its balance and her clumsily trying to hang on. With all her willpower, she resisted that urge by thinking of Cassian’s words.

“Come back to me. Please.”

“Continue fighting and surviving as you always do.”

“Keep going, sweetheart.”

Fortunately, the black stone was in sight. Not a single snowflake had fallen upon it as if its mystical power was shielding it. It had the shimmer of a black diamond, and it served as her beacon.

She needed to hang on a little bit longer…

But as soon as she passed through a row of pine trees, a gust of freezing wind blew past her that made her look down and tighten her grip on the ground beneath her. She could sense magic thrumming around her and calling to her. It seemed to pull at the magic within her from the Cauldron that had lied dormant for over a year now.

The sky suddenly turned black, causing Nesta to freeze. The wind continued to howl around her, and suddenly a young woman materialized before her.

When the woman lifted her head, Nesta recognized her face…

“Feyre?” Nesta questioned weakly in disbelief.

“I don’t know why I take pity on you. You don’t deserve it. You let me and Elain nearly starve to death, while you sat and did nothing,” she spoke with such contempt.

Elain appeared beside Feyre and nodded along to Feyre’s words. She gave Nesta a scornful look…It didn’t look right to see such a facial expression upon her face.

“And you let me die,” a male’s voice said. Nesta whipped her head to her left, where she saw her father. “How could you do nothing when the king captured me? What kind of daughter are you?”

“You will never be one of us,” Rhys stated as he appeared beside Feyre, along with Azriel, Mor, and Amren behind him.

Nesta couldn’t stop the tears that formed in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

She wished she could say these words and scenes were unfamiliar to her…but she had seen all of this and heard all of these words in her nightmares since the war.

Her nightmares, fears, and insecurities had all come to life before her.

This isn’t real. This isn’t real, she repeated to herself in her head as she closed her eyes, trying to shut them out.

But when she heard the sound of Cassian’s voice, she felt compelled to open up her teary eyes and look behind her to see him.

“How could someone love a selfish and rotten person like you? You’re worthless. I’m only forced to love you because we’re mates.”

Seeing him stand before her and saying these things - even though she knew this was all contrived - still wounded her.

“That’s…not true,” Nesta weakly spoke aloud and shook her head up at him. Sliding her hand within her pocket, she felt around for the letter the real Cassian had given her. When her fingertips found the parchment, Nesta closed her eyes tightly and relished in the memory of what his letter had said.

These past several months, you have been irritating, infuriating, and ridiculous…as well as inspiring, enthralling, and intoxicating.

I am in love with you, Nesta Archeron.

I’ll be waiting for you, ready to not waste anymore time.

Her eyes shot open, and she sought out the black stone. In the darkness, she could no longer see it, but she knew the direction she had to go. With newfound vigor, she rushed forward on her hand and knees.

But as she did so, all the figures around her vanished, except for Cassian.

Now Cassian was flying, when a blast of light powered through the air and hit him square in the chest, sending him to the ground right in front of her. Nesta stopped and stared at him as life left his eyes.

Another nightmare had come to life. But the tears didn’t stop flowing from Nesta’s eyes. Seeing him die before her was a dagger to her chest. All this time, she had feared having these feelings for him because of how that love could make her suffer…but she couldn’t deny it anymore. She couldn’t shield herself any longer.

She couldn’t resist placing her hand against the fake Cassian’s cheek. She half-thought her hand would go through him as if he were some kind of phantom. But he was solid beneath her palm. She could even feel the stubble on his cheek.

This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Keep going.

Suppressing a shudder from what she just witnessed, she continued her crawl toward the black rock. The figures of her sisters, her father, and the Inner Circle all appeared once more, calling after her and yelling at her.

She shut them out and weakly continued her journey, hurting her knees and hand when she roved over jagged rocks in the darkness.

When the front half of her body collapsed to the ground after her arm suddenly gave out from under her, it was then that she could make out that the black rock was a short distance before her. Her body shuddered as she let out a sigh of relief.

But when she tried to move forward, she felt a hand grab hold of her boot, causing her to wince. She turned behind her and saw Cassian was there.

“Why are you leaving me, Nesta? Why are abandoning me and shutting me out like you did after the war?” he demanded to know.

Nesta just carefully shook her head. “I’m not,” she said softly. “I’m not.”

She grimaced when she tried to yank her foot out of his grip, but the apparition wouldn’t let go. She outstretched her uninjured arm as far as she could and lunged for the black rock.

But she couldn’t reach it.

She was so close…

Breathing heavily as the tears cascaded down her cheeks, she thought of all she had endured the past several days. The cold. The stick impaled in her thigh. The hazardous climb. Her broken arm. Her bruised feet. Even her own mind and magic had betrayed her.

This couldn’t all be for nothing.

She wouldn’t let it be all for nothing.

She focused on imagining what could be, if she made it back.

What it would be like to see Cassian again… to tease him as she loved to do…and to also feel him against her.

She wanted more time in this life. Not just to be with Cassian, but to actually live and enjoy life.

“Why are you leaving me, Nesta?” the apparition of Cassian whined.

“I’m not,” Nesta firmly replied. “I’m coming home to you.”

Once more, she threw out her arm so far that it was taut and she felt the strain within her muscles. Her fingertips grazed the edge of the stone.

Everything around her faded away in an instant.

The sun had set over an hour ago…meaning Nesta only had a few hours left to complete the Rite.

Cassian hadn’t left his spot beside the pit. Despite the fact that his body had begun to shiver after the sun descended and the cool winds blew through, he did not budge.

The aches within him grew stronger and in the past hour or so, those aches seemed to move to his head. If he and Nesta were mates as he had suspected…Nesta must have been suffering greatly.

He let out a long, slow breath. He closed his eyes and sent up another silent prayer that Nesta would return.

At the sound of a thump against the ground, Cassian suddenly opened his eyes. He lost his breath at the sight of Nesta appearing and lying in the snow before him. Her eyes were closed and one of her arms was stretched out. Her body was shivering, and her hair was disheveled, with most of the strands having fallen out of its hair ribbon, and her Illyrian leathers were all torn up. But one of her arms…something didn’t look right. And her thigh was covered with a bloodied handkerchief…the handkerchief he had given her.

Tears formed in his eyes as he rushed toward her. “Nesta,” he whispered as he gently ran his fingers through her hair.

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him. Her breathing stilled when she saw him. “Are you really here?” she asked feebly.

Cassian smoothed her hair away from her face. “Yes,” he breathed. Then, without his eyes leaving hers, he slid his hands beneath her body and scooped her up as he stood. Her face contorted with agony as he did so. He looked at her apologetically and realized he needed to get her to a healer immediately.

“What were your last words to me before the Rite? Before you said goodbye?” she asked seriously as she lifted her hand to his cheek.

“‘Come back to me please,’” he answered softly as he recalled that heart wrenching conversation that replayed in his head multiple times the past few days. “And now you have, but I need to get you -” he began to mutter, but was interrupted by Nesta lifting her head and crashing her lips against his.

He was caught off guard, but once he got over his astonishment, Cassian responded to her delicate kiss. Despite loving the taste of her, he knew they did not have time for this right now. He needed to get her injuries taken care of first. He pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers. “Why do we only kiss when one of us is dying?” he wondered huskily. “We need to get you to a healer.”

“I don’t want to waste anymore time,” Nesta said honestly while she ran her hand across his jawline before bringing it down to his chest.

“If we don’t get you to a healer soon, you won’t have much time left.”

Flying would’ve been the fastest way to get back to his cabin. But she didn’t enjoy flying, and it would just make her sicker. Plus, he risked jostling her and injuring her more if he flew. Speed walking back would just have to do.

Nesta closed her eyes as she leaned her head against his upper arm, while her hand now gripped onto to the center of his shirt.

“Hold on, Nes. Stay with me,” he said to her, and she nodded.

Cassian began to stride through the camp in the direction of his cabin as he carefully held onto Nesta.

“Now I definitely know something is wrong. I just called you ‘Nes’ and you didn’t bite my head off,” he joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

She looked pale and kept her eyes closed, but when he briefly looked down, she was smiling.

As they passed a few of the other camp’s cabins en route, the door to one of them suddenly burst open and an Illyrian female ran out. In the light of the camp’s outdoor torches, Cassian realized it was Morwenna, a female he had been training and one he believed Nesta had befriended. She charged toward them, her long dark hair flying around behind her.

“She’s back!” Morwenna exclaimed as she came to Cassian’s side, keeping pace with him. A look of shock and awe was upon her face.

“Yes, but she needs medical attention immediately,” Cassian stated seriously as he continued to plow forward. At Cassian’s reply, Morwenna’s facial expression quickly transformed into one that was solemn. “Morwenna, could you please go find one of the healers and send her to my cabin?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied with a firm nod before darting off in another direction.

Nesta groaned as he strolled through the snow and walked up a small, steep incline. The sound propelled Cassian to move faster. Within the next few minutes, they had finally reached his cabin.

As soon as he entered, he headed straight for his bedroom. Gently laying her down on one side of the bed, he pulled down the blankets on the opposite side. Then he picked her up again to lay her down on the uncovered sheets and brought the blankets up over her body. Nesta opened up her eyes as her head hit the pillow. “Cassian, I need…water,” she requested quietly.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he called out to her as he rushed out of the room. Very slowly, Nesta sat up and was about to attempt propping up her pillow when Cassian returned holding one tall glass of water and a bowl of beef broth. He quickly handed the glass to her in her good arm and placed the bowl on the stand beside the bed. “Stop trying to move. Let me do that,” he said as he reached behind her to prop her pillow against her headboard.

After a long sip of water, Nesta swallowed. “I thought I told you I don’t take orders from anyone,” she said softly as she leaned back against the headboard and grinned slyly up at him. She took another swig of water.

“And here I thought, considering your state, you would indulge me only for today,” Cassian said as he laid the back of his hand against her forehead. She was burning up. Cassian internally pleaded that Morwenna would be able to quickly find one of the healers.

Nesta gulped. “Never,” she stated, the small grin still on her face.

“Well in between sips, could you please tell me what happened to you?” Cassian requested as he looked at her arm that was out of place.

“I think one of the males broke my arm,” she replied. “Another male impaled a stick through my thigh.”

“What?” Cassian’s eyes widened. Then he carefully pulled the covers off of her and looked back down at the bloodied handkerchief wrapped around her thigh. Very gingerly, he untied it. Seeing the piece of stick that was still lodged within her thigh, he fought to keep his rage under control. The wound looked to be completely infected.

“Forgive me, sweetheart, for being so forward, but may I remove your clothes?” Cassian asked, covering up his concern with his casual bantering. He needed to get her out of her dirty clothes and prepare for the healer to look her over.

After pulling the glass away from her mouth, she nodded. “Usually, you’re so barbaric, I’m shocked you even bothered to ask,” she said sleepily as she rested her head back.

Cassian walked over to the chest at the foot of his bed and opened it, pulling out one of his shirts and tossing it on the bed near Nesta’s feet. “Well, once you’re all healed, I’ll be barbaric and we can reenact a scene from that smutty The Barbarian and the Maiden novel you read,” he said with a mischievous smile.

Nesta nearly choked on her water, causing Cassian to immediately rush to her side out of alarm. Gods forbid he kill her with his sexual innuendos after she survived the Blood Rite…

But she recovered quickly, and her eyes narrowed on him while her lips threatened to break out into a devious grin. “You’ve been reading my books?”

His eyes gleamed when he looked back down at her body to try to figure out the least painful way to get her clothes off of her. “One or two,” he replied casually, but then had to pause their playful conversation and return to the task at hand. “I’m sorry if this hurts,” he stated unhappily, and Nesta nodded in acceptance as she sat her now empty glass down on the nightstand.

When she closed her eyes, Cassian slid his fingers beneath the waistband of her pants and slowly pulled them down past her thighs. Nesta only winced a little when her pants peeled away from her wounded thigh. The wound was all red and had some white spots around the stick that could’ve been puss. Streaks of blood covered her thigh.

“When I’ve fantasized about bringing you to my bed and ripping off your clothes, this isn’t exactly what I had pictured,” Cassian commented with a glint in his eyes to distract her as he continued to pull her pants off of her legs and feet.

A slight blush came across Nesta’s cheeks, but she didn’t open her eyes. He tossed her pants to the floor, then stood beside her again. “I’m going to untie your top,” he informed her, and she leaned her upper body forward to grant Cassian access to her back.

“I never thought such fantasies could become a reality,” she said softly as he began to untie the laces on the back of her Illyrian leather tunic. “I never thought you could ever truly want…me.”

Cassian’s fingers faltered in their task, and it felt like his heart had been pierced. He took a deep breath before continuing to untangle the laces. “I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he said honestly.

Once he finally finished pulling out the laces, he pulled the ribbon out of her hair and pushed her hair to the side, over her shoulder. Leaning forward, he placed a light kiss on the back of her neck. He thought he saw a slight shiver go down her spine.

Then he went to the front of her body to carefully slide the leather sleeves of her shirt from her arms. A pained cry escaped her lips when it went over her dislocated arm. After he threw it to the ground, he grabbed the bottom edge of her black shirt that was beneath the leather tunic and gingerly lifted it up and over her head. She let out another pained moan when she outstretched her arms above her head.

All she was currently wearing now was a bra and underwear. Out of politeness, Cassian looked away from her body. He swiftly reached for his shirt that he had tossed on the bed and put it on her. It was large and loose and would probably go down to her knees if she stood up.

She leaned back against the pillows and stared up at him as he brought the blankets back over her body. He placed his hand against her cheek. It was the same spot where he had put his hand when he said goodbye to her before the Rite. And now to have her before him after the Rite…He could feel that she really was here. This wasn’t a dream. This time, he leaned forward and placed a kiss to her forehead.

“Cassian, I…” Nesta began to say feebly when he pulled away, but stopped when Morwenna and Leta, one of the Illyrian healers, burst into the room.

He would need to figure out what she wanted to say later. But for now, he was thankful the healer was finally here to take care of her. Cassian stepped away and let Leta look her over. The female pulled back the blankets to analyze her injuries. “Explain to me what happened,” Leta kindly ordered.

Nesta recounted the skirmishes she endured the past week, and Cassian fought to keep his rage minimal as she spoke. He wished he could break the necks of those snotty males…or at least break something. But who knew if they even made it back…he didn’t know which he hoped for more: that they suffered and perished in the Rite, or that they survived only to return and have to deal with Cassian’s fury.

When Nesta concluded, Leta immediately ordered her to consume the beef broth on the nightstand as she dug through the medicine in her bag. Before Nesta could even attempt to grab the bowl with her good arm, Cassian beat her to it. He picked up the bowl and began feeding her spoonfuls of it.

As she ate, Leta added tonics to heal her and to knock her unconscious into the broth. Once she finished eating, Nesta stretched out her good arm toward Cassian. He put down the bowl and spoon on the nightstand and eagerly accepted her hand in his grasp. “Thank you,” she whispered drowsily.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Cassian answered. He brought their hands up to his face and kissed the back of her hand.

Nesta squeezed his hand as her eyes closed, and she instantly fell into a deep sleep.

She wasn’t sure how many hours or how many days had passed, but she slipped in and out of consciousness.

Most of the time, Nesta was in a deep sleep. But every so often, she’d awake or be nudged awake by Cassian, who would be sitting beside her, ready and waiting with a bowl of broth to feed her containing tonics to help her heal and sleep. As soon as she would finish, he’d hand her a glass of water to drink.

Too drowsy to speak and too preoccupied with eating and drinking whenever she awoke, words were not exchanged between her and Cassian during the short periods of time she was awake, save for his gentle orders for her to either eat and drink and his whispers of “Goodnight, sweetheart,” when she would slowly fall back asleep. Before she drifted off, she felt him kiss her temple each time.

Overall, her sleep had been dreamless…until one instance where she thought she had woken up on her own. She searched for Cassian, expecting him to be nearby and ready, as usual, to feed her.

But he wasn’t there…instead she found a letter addressed to her on the nightstand. Opening it up, she read through its contents:

Nesta,

I thought I loved you, but I think it was just the mating bond that messed with my brain and deceived me. I don’t love you. I don’t want anything to do with you.

Don’t expect to see me ever again.

-Cassian

The words sent tears streaming down her face, and she felt like she was suffocating.

Gasping for air, her eyes shot open and she found herself still in Cassian’s bed and no letter beside her. In the dim room, she reached her hand out to the side of her along the mattress, hoping to find Cassian beside her to reassure her that what just occurred was just a nightmare.

But her hand never found Cassian’s. She turned her head to find no one was beside her. Hyperventilating, she tried to push away her fears that Cassian really did run off and abandon her. Surely, he was just in the cabin somewhere…

But the nightmare had felt so real…Was the dream actually a premonition of what was to come?

Pushing away her covers, she got up off the bed without wincing.

Looking down, she realized she was still wearing Cassian’s shirt. Stretching out her arm, she found it no longer looked dislocated and didn’t ache. She also lifted up her leg to examine her thigh and saw that her wound was stitched up and healing.

She felt so…brand new. It was as if she had never physically suffered from the Blood Rite. There certainly were benefits to having a fae body….

Determined to find Cassian, she strolled out of his bedroom and headed down the hallway toward his study. Peeking her head around the door frame, she discovered he wasn’t there.

Ignoring her nerves, she went back down the hallway in the direction of the kitchen and the living room. But she still couldn’t find him.

Going to the front door, she turned the knob and opened it.

There, she found Cassian carrying a brown sack and about to take a step up to the small porch that led to his entryway. At the sound of the door creaking open, his head perked up. At first, he was beaming, but in a flash, that beam faded.

“You should be lying down,” he said seriously.

Nesta stepped back, pulling the door open with her to allow him entrance. “We’ve been over this before. You can’t order me around,” she said sternly.

Cassian stepped inside, and Nesta closed the door behind him. She turned around so her back was against the door, and Cassian approached her.

“Where were you?” she asked in a tone mixed with panic and irritation.

“I needed to go buy you some more food. We were nearly out of broth, and I think you’ll be ready to move onto more solid foods soon. Then I ended up flying to Velaris because I remembered there was that one tea you enjoy from one of the shops so I had gotten that too,” Cassian explained calmly as his eyes tried to search hers for…something. “I’m sorry. You’d been sleeping for over nine hours at a time the past few days. I didn’t expect you to be awake so soon. I shouldn’t have gone.”

He was out buying food for her, even going as far to find her favorite tea…to even further take care of her. All her life, she felt let down…especially by men. Her father abandoned her and her sisters, not even bothering to ensure they were nourished or caring that they lived. She thought Tomas Mandray would be the one to help take care of her…but that was all a facade. All he wanted to do was feed his own lustful desires.

After such experiences, she had previously sworn to herself that she would never trust a man again.

But then Cassian came into her life…and had been slowly breaking that resolve down.

Right now, she just needed to feel him and assure herself once more that all of this was real. She needed to truly know that he was before her and really taking care of her and not just part of her imagination. Abruptly, she tightly wrapped her arms around Cassian’s torso and closed her eyes as she laid her head against his chest. Cassian dropped the sack he was carrying to the ground, which made a small thump when it hit the floor. Some items in the bag spilled out and scattered on the floor, but he ignored it. He wrapped his arms around her in return.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“Is that how you always respond when someone shows you affection?” she said, careful to not let any tears escape her eyes. Trying to hide her concern, she continued. “Are you so unused to it that you assume something must be wrong with someone to want to embrace you?”

“This is more of an I’m terrified yet so relieved to see you kind of a hug rather than a Cassian, you are the sun my world revolves around and I just want to worship you constantly hug.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I would never hug you like that.”

Cassian pulled back and gripped his hands on her upper arms as he stared her directly in the eyes. “What’s wrong?” he repeated.

Nesta paused, then shook her head. “Nothing.”

Cassian sighed out of frustration. “Is that how this is going to go?” he asked angrily. “You’re just going to shut me out again? If I have to go through that again…I won’t be able to take it. I don’t want you just at arm’s length, Nesta. I want all of you. The good and the bad. I don’t want to be just a meaningless fling for you.”

The old Nesta probably would’ve fired back at him, telling him it was none of his business to know everything and it was presumptuous of him to think she’d want him to be more than a fling. But now…Nesta’s heart raced beneath her chest. She didn’t want to lose him. She was screwing this up. She wanted him more than anything. She needed to be honest with him and fix this. After all she realized in the Blood Rite…

“You’re not!” she exclaimed.

“Then what am I to you?”

How could she even find the words to explain what he meant to her?

“You’re…everything to me,” she finally said. “And that scares me,” she added softly as tears began to form in her eyes.

“Why?”

She hesitated, but finally decided to bring up her suspicion that they’d never spoken of. “What if these feelings are just because of…a possible mating bond between us? What if this is just one more thing in my life that I have no control over?”

When she mentioned the mating bond, Cassian seemed to go still for a moment, but then shook his head at her. “Remember what I told you? Mates don’t have to care about each other. As far as I’m aware, Elain still doesn’t seem to have any kind of feelings for Lucien. Rhys and Feyre are an extraordinary case. Do you feel something more than a strong pull to me or more than a feeling of possessiveness? Then whatever you feel is real. It’s not something that’s been forced on you.”

“The thought of losing you…or of you betraying me or disappointing me…it leaves me feeling dead inside. I just don’t know what I’d do if any of that happened, and I couldn’t tell if I truly felt like I couldn’t live without you, or if it was because of some ridiculous bond between us,” Nesta shook her head as the tears continued to fall.

Cassian brought his hands to the sides of her face and started wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “For the week of the Rite, I couldn’t stop thinking about you and worrying about you. I missed you walking into my cabin unannounced and you rolling your eyes at me when I made some comment that you insisted was ridiculous. I missed your glares, your insults, and those rare times you’d give me a small smile. I missed you. I know, without a doubt, my feelings for you are real and are my own. They aren’t because of some possible bond.”

Her heart hammered within her chest. She remembered how it occurred to her during the Rite that she may never be able to tease Cassian again, never get to hear him make a silly sexual comment again, never feel the thundering of her heart when he called her “sweetheart,” and never get to just simply…talk to him.

She had missed him immensely. Even the week leading up to the Rite where they didn’t see each other…she missed him.

Was she relieved that her feelings were indeed her own? Her feelings for him were so overwhelmingly strong that it slightly frightened her.

She took a deep breath. “When I was on Ramiel…something in my magic called to the magic of the monolith. It brought to life all the nightmares I had had in the past year.”

Cassian’s eyes widened at this information.

“And those nightmares involved you saying I was unworthy of love, or you dying by that Cauldron’s blast of light…and they always left me feeling so broken. Then today, I dreamed I woke up, and you were gone for good, claiming your feelings for me were just because of the bond. So when you weren’t here when I really did wake up, I was terrified.”

Cassian continued to rub her face. “I’m so sorry. I know I’ve given you reasons to not trust me by failing to protect you and failing to keep some of my promises…but I’m determined to follow through with my promises now. I will not abandon you.”

Nesta nodded as she grabbed onto his forearms. “I know,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you and for shutting you out.”

“We both have things to work on,” Cassian replied honestly. “And we can work through them together.”

“Are you sure you want this? That you want me?” she couldn’t help but ask, still feeling skeptical that this was all real.

Cassian sighed. As he firmly held her face still, he looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve never wanted anything more. Don’t let your doubts consume you. They’ll drive you mad.”

“You’re ordering me around again,” she stated as she narrowed her eyes at him, but she failed to be truly stern with him. A smile spread across her face.

Cassian hesitantly smiled back. “But do you want this?” he asked seriously.

While it was indeed a risk to be with him and that she feared where this fierce love would lead her… Who knew how much time she would have left in this life? This life she had never wanted…until now.

Now she had a life where she no longer stood by and did nothing. Now she could actually help other females and train them, help them find a greater purpose that was bigger than themselves.

And now she had the chance to freely love someone without the worries of status and if a man could merely provide for her for the rest of her life. Now she was able to take care of herself, while also being truly loved for who she was.

“Yes,” she replied confidently.

The joy she saw on his face…It sent her heart racing, and she never wanted to see him without such joy again.

“Are you sure you want to risk being with an extraordinarily handsome male who sends your heart aflutter with every touch and will do anything to prove his love for you?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Against my better judgment, yes.”

Cassian grinned, then brought his face down closer to hers so his breath brushed against her lips and tickled her nose. “So you admit that I am extraordinarily handsome?”

“Will you just kiss me already?”

Cassian chuckled. “Maybe I should tease you just a bit longer to give you a taste of the painful waiting I had to endure while you did the Blood Rite.”

“Cassian,” she said sternly and leaned forward to kiss him herself, but he dodged his head away from her.

“Have I told you how proud I am of you, my sweet Illyrian warrior, for completing the Rite?”

“No, but you can tell me later and just reward me now,” she requested anxiously as she wrapped her hands around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair.

“I can’t wait to see Devlon’s face when he sees you. And when you start training the Illryian females…I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself and keep my hands and lips off you,” Cassian rambled on.

“Well, there’s no need to control yourself right now,” Nesta remarked impatiently.

“How are you feeling?” he questioned her sincerely.

“Physically, I’m completely fine. Emotionally, however, I’m so frustrated, I could slap you.”

“Fine. I know how irresistable I am, so I’ll put you out of your misery.”

“How kind of you,” she said sarcastically and groaned at his pompousness, but she was interrupted by Cassian capturing her lips in a kiss, and that groan turned into a moan of pleasure.

The kiss was firmer and more passionate than the two kisses they’d previously shared since neither of them was dying this time. Cassian pushed her back against the door. With something behind her helping to support her, Cassian began to kiss her even more forcefully, as if nothing could satiate his appetite for her.

The passion and the force of his kisses nearly sent her knees buckling. Sensing her falter, Cassian ran his hand up along her thigh, sending an electrifying sensation through her body. His kisses didn’t stop as he lifted her thigh up, then wrapped both of his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her off the ground. His wings flared out behind him, and Nesta lifted both her legs to encircle them around his waist.

When he tried to pull away from her, she wouldn’t let him. Instead, she used her teeth to tug on his lower lip, eliciting a moan from him that sent a delighted thrill through her.

Eventually, Cassian managed to reluctantly pull his lips away from hers. Their faces were only an inch apart as they breathed heavily on each other. He tilted his head up at her, and Nesta rested her forehead against his.

“I love seeing you in my shirt,” he growled. “And I love you, Nesta Archeron.”

“I know,” she answered smugly. “I got your letter.”

“And what did you think of it?”

“It could’ve been written more neatly.”

This time, Cassian rolled his eyes at her.

“It was a bit long too. It nearly put me to sleep,” she added nonchalantly.

Cassian gave her a look to show he was unimpressed with her comments.

“And I don’t think I would’ve survived the Rite without it,” she finished seriously.

The amusement left Cassian’s face and was replaced with a tender expression.

“I meant what I said when I wouldn’t know what to do if you didn’t survive the Rite,” he told her. “The week of the Rite was unbearable…words cannot describe how it felt to see you return.”

Nesta rubbed the back of his neck. “I may have been ill, but I meant it when I said I didn’t want to waste anymore time either.”

“Then we’ll stop wasting it,” he said in a low voice before leaving a trail of kisses along her jawline.

“I love you, Cassian,” she mumbled before pulling his face so he was back to staring right at her. With a deep inhale of his woodsy scent, she fiercely kissed his beaming face.

The End

A/N: Man, writing this fic really took over my life. I’m a bit relieved it’s over and will now probably take a break from writing Nessian :)

Thank you SO much to everyone who has read this/liked this/left comments/reblogged this! I hope you enjoyed this final part! I would love to get a comment from you and thank you personally! :)

When I first had this fic idea, I only wanted to write an angsty Nessian goodbye before the Rite and a cute reunion scene between them after Nesta survives the Rite…my how this mini fic evolved haha. I feel like the Rite is probably way more difficult than what I’ve described… I’m still learning how to write scenes that are action-y and aren’t focused on romantic drama, haha. So that’s really why I only focused on some days of the Rite for Nesta. :D

Anyway, thanks again! I hope you all have a fabulous day!

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vidalinav · 4 years

Text

Queen of Monsters: Chapter 6

Summary: Nesta learns more about the Rite and Illyrian traditions, but finds out first hand what that means for the potential rebellion of the largest army in the Night Court.

Rating: M (graphic elements and mature themes)

Read also: Chapter List, General Masterlist

Updates every Tuesday/Wednesday (Probably Wednesday)

“I heard he’s courting Adette,” Nesta heard, the Illyrian tucked into her fur coat, leaning a head towards her friend whispering in delightful gossip.

Nesta stood on the edge of the terrain, her hands warming besides the bonfire. One of the many placed around the field for the onlookers who watched the procession. The two girls chuckled across the way, her view tucked behind the ripple of embers burning. She thought they might have been too busy chatting to notice her anyway.

“The shoemaker’s daughter!” The other one gasped lowly, “She doesn’t have a coin to her name.”

The Illyrian rolled her eyes, and Nesta blinked at the youth they displayed. Had she ever been this young? She could distantly remember Elain’s high squeals, her own harsh opinions of this or that, but if she thought deeply on it, Nesta could only make out the remnants of starvation and petty things.

“Why would she have to? She’s beautiful.” The girl answered haughtily. “I heard Adette’s already been asked by two other males and her mother’s turned them both down.”

“What does her father say about the match?”

“What every father says. My aunt says he’s practically forcing her out the door. It’s Kallon or no one.”

Nesta lifted a cup of tea to her lips, the warmth of the liquid burning her tongue, warming her chest. The glow of the heat set the Illyrians’ hair on fire, turning the dark color into auburns and maroons. Nesta thought she might have seen the light flicker in one of the girl’s eyes, but she didn’t know if it was from joy at the news or a trick of the flame dancing in her gaze.

“Wasn’t she seeing Micah?”

“The blacksmith’s son?” She remarked sardonically. “His family disowned him two spring ago for helping out with… you know.”

Nesta did not know, though she had some idea of what occurred two years past, the subtle scream of people burning under a cauldron’s rage. The way she said it, off handed and dismissive, made Nesta want to walk through the flames and ask out right what you know meant.

“Will he compete you think?”

The Illyrian shrugged a shoulder, “He doesn’t have anything else going for him.”

Nesta lifted the mug to her lips, squinting her eyes at the two girls who laughed in their sleeves. She could hear the high-strung sound reverberate in the expansive space, and Nesta wanted to cover her ears. Like a dog whistle, it rung and pierced. Her head ached from the pitch.

Cradling her head, she leaned over the bench to set the cup down on the snow.

“He’s good for what he is,” Cassian remarked from behind her.

The cup slipped from her grasp, tipping to its side, the hot liquid spilling to the ground. Nesta sighed as the tea started to form constellations in the billowy white.

She glared at him, “Would you stop doing that!”

“I didn’t mean to” he answered, raising his hands. His eyes were bright with ease as he took in her expression, murderous and unafraid. “Seeing as you keep refusing to train with me, I’ll save the lecture on how you should be more aware of your surroundings.”

Cassian raised his chin to the male in question and Nesta followed his gaze to where Kallon and ten other Illyrian’s were taking turns beating each other to a pulp. Truth be told, she had not been watching, choosing instead to examine the two chittering females in front of her who now sat straight, quickly looking elsewhere as she caught their eyes.

Kallon was winning by far, the glittering sword in his hands made of Illyrian steel and polished to perfection. The other males’ weapons had not been half as grand.

“Do they have to do this every year?” Nesta complained, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her coat. Even next to the fire she was freezing, and she wondered why, for a race of people who’d lived longer than at least ten human generations, they did not host these fights indoors. “Compete,” she clarified.

“Yes, every year,” Cassian nodded, sitting next to her. She heard the creak as he jostled, setting his wings so they did not lie in the snow. Nesta wanted to brush them away, suddenly feeling like she needed more room on that small, tight bench. “The games are held every mid-winter to select the warriors competing in the Blood Rite in the spring.”

Nesta set her head in her palm, watching another Illyrian use the butt of his sword to blunt Kallon in the nose. She couldn’t resist the smirk that had somehow appeared on her face.

“How do they choose who gets to go?” She asked.

“Here, they have males compete for a spot and only send the top three. Whoever wins enough rounds will go to Windhaven. They’ll compete in archery, sword fighting,” He said, gesturing to the ring. “hand to hand combat… The ceremony usually lasts a couple of days before they decide.”

Nesta winced as she watched Kallon take on two males at once. He was skilled as far as knew, though she admitted it wasn’t much. The only thing she knew of battle was watching Cassian’s guts spill out and she could not very well use that to measure the skills of the sword.

Cassian leaned closer to her and she could feel his breath near her ear. Even if she knew it was more to keep the words, he was about to say, private between the two, Nesta still held her breath, careful not to take in the earthy scent of sap and firewood.

“Kallon is hoping to win, and he will, because even if he’s the son of a lord, he doesn’t earn the respect of his title until he stands on the monolith on Ramiel. If he does at all,” Cassian added, off-handedly.

Nesta titled her head towards him. Her face close enough to see her flushed reflection in his eyes.

“I heard…” She swallowed the apprehension down, “that only the three of you have done it.”

“It… as in standing on top of the mountain.” He inquired, his gaze gleaming. “not the only ones, but I admit there’ve been very few.”

Nesta watched as his gaze traveled down to her lips, a quick glance and then back again. But she’d seen it and he knew, because Cassian smirked, one, lone dimple appearing in his cheek. Nesta wanted to poke at it with her thumb.

She marveled at the silence in that moment, the civil conversation making their interaction light and airy. It seemed the cold weather was not bad for their fiery words, perhaps it had subdued him enough to not poke fun and had iced that wounded part of her that ached incessantly.

“Why? Does that impress you?” He asked teasingly.

Or not.

Nesta chose to ignore his words. “Did Lord Devlon make you participate in these competitions?”

Cassian’s grin widened at her aim to distract but appeased her anyway.

“It’s up to each camp lord to decide who gets to participate and how they’ll make that choice. Many believe only the special elite should have the right—the families from long lines of money or titles,” Cassian shrugged, staring off into the clash of swords and teeth. “Devlon, even if he’s a lord and sometimes too traditional, doesn’t care about these frivolities. He’ll let any Illyrian who thinks they’re strong enough.”

Nesta thought she admiration in the look he wore, and she was surprised, for all she’d seen were grimaces and rolling eyes when mentioning the male.

“It didn’t matter that I was born a bastard, Azriel some discarded son of a lord, or Rhysand, a half-breed with some unknown, unrivaled power. To Devlon, we were warriors—could be warriors,” He admitted. Begrudgingly, so, because his jaw clenched as if the words were hard to get out. “For that, even if on most days I want to ring his neck for making things difficult, he will always be better than them.”

He jerked his chin lowly as theirs gazes went to the males on the raised platform with their own bonfire, sequestered off from the rest of the Illyrians. Lord Ovis and Lord Ymran sat on their chairs that seemed more like thrones than casual viewing platforms. Nesta caught sight of the female from before who’d taken the basket of fruit. Even heavily pregnant, and she was heavily pregnant, they made her serve them drinks and did not offer her anywhere to rest.

Nesta almost wished one of the swords would go accidently flying through the air, stabbing at least one of them horrifically in the eye.

“What are you supposed to do here?” Nesta asked, behind gritted teeth.

Cassian paused, chewing on his lower lip and Nesta wanted to brush her thumb against it and tell him to stop. “I am supposed to keep the camp’s in order. This one especially. It’s part of my job as being the acting general-commander.”

Nesta noted that he didn’t elaborate why this camp had become an issue, and she sighed internally. Would they never trust her?

Cassian was careful to choose his next words. “After the war—even before then—many have… questioned whether I am fit for the position.”

She could hear the gasps of the girls as the bonfire flashed. The fire swelling higher for a moment then dipping back to its original size.

“Why would they ask such a thing?” She roared, suddenly angry at anyone accusing Cassian of not doing his job.

Cassian only looked solemn, facing away from her. “Because their sons didn’t come home.”

“There was a war.” She said sternly.

“It was my job to keep them alive.”

“It is your job to protect as many as you can.” She surmised, her voice growing louder even if Cassian grabbed her wrist to lower her back down as Nesta rose to her feet. “Don’t they know what you sacrificed? What we sacrificed for—”

Nesta shook her head, distraught and a loss for words.

“They were lucky they died before the war ended. Look around! Death was a privilege.”

“Not to those who died. Not to the families who have to live without them.”

Cassian looked at her, something blooming in his eyes that Nesta couldn’t name, but she swallowed it down. He still held on to her wrist as he shushed her. His calm silence breathing air into her lungs.

Nesta blinked away the harsh burning in her eyes.

“It’s hard for them, I think... It’s hard enough when people pass, but to admit to themselves that warriors are meant to die. I think it ruins the perception. This fanciful idea of being the strongest or the fastest or the most talented with a sword.” Cassian lifted a shoulder, his lips forming a thin line. “We go to war to die. I think every soldier knows this when they step out onto that battlefield. Whichever it might be.”

“My father wasn’t a warrior.” Nesta gasped. She clenched her fists and somewhere deep in her stomach, she could feel fire burning, feel her face warm up, steam rolling through her lungs like thunder. “My sisters? No... Why do they also suffer?”

“Nesta...” Cassian began, “I’m sorry that—”

Nesta couldn’t stand the look. The regret so deep in his bones. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Stop.” Nesta clenched her jaw, her teeth aching at the impact. She could hear her heartbeat, had not learned to tune it out. It sounded like a funeral dirge. She could envision the tombstone back in Velaris, though she’d never once set foot on the land.

Here lies Nesta’s hopes and dreams.

Failure. Father. Gone.

“Please... just stop.”

Cassian’s nostrils flared as if he might try once more, but a lankly looking boy ran up them. Cassian looked furious at the interruption.

“General... Commander... General-Commander.” He paused. At Cassian’s murderous expression, he gulped, looking down. “The Lords would like to speak with you about tonight’s council meeting...They say it’s urgent.”

Cassian grumbled, his chest rumbling with unsaid words and phrases.

Nesta took a breath. "Go.”

“But Nesta,” He began to argue, but she was through. The day had already settled lamely on her shoulders and she could not bear to carry it any longer.

“Go!” She yelled.

Cassian did, sulking as he lifted himself off the bench, and followed the young Illyrian. Nesta didn’t watch to see if he looked back or not. She supposed, he probably did. He was just that type of person to coddle a wounded stag after shooting it.

Nesta picked up the mug that lied haphazardly on the ground, tracing a chip on the handle she’d not noticed before.

She wanted to throw it a wall, but there was none she could see and so she carried it with her, holding it close as she walked away from the bonfire.

Distantly, she could hear the girls giggle.

“My brother told me they almost died for each other,” She heard one of them say.

“Do you think they’re in love?” The other asked.

Nesta tuned them out. Once again remembering what it was like to be young.

She thought of Tomas in that moment—where he must have been. She hoped he still had the scar on his cheek from where she’d hit him with that rock. The only thing she could find as she laid pinned under him.

She had not loved him. Hadn't cared for him even before then. But Nesta couldn’t help but wish she’d grabbed the rock again... Beat and plunder everything he took that day.

Here lies Nesta’s innocence, his tombstone would read. It was gone before he even made the first blow.

The memories seemed to follow her as she left the outdoor arena.

Her dreams did not comfort her as she trotted through the snow.

It was almost evening when she made it to the outskirts of the camp, the buildings growing less and less until all that remained were a few houses scattered about.

It must have been strange to live on a mountain, she thought. Nesta had spent so much time thinking about how Ramiel could somehow bury Windhaven, it seemed concerning that no one here had thought what the mountain would do. There was no way to plan for destruction, but it always loomed. Chaos following them around in its dark cloak looking for a chance to strike when they least expected it. A thief in the night.

Nesta wished she were a better thief. Perhaps, she could have stolen food while Feyre was galivanting through the forest, learned how to pick the pockets of those wealthy ladies she’d used to know, who raised their noses when she’d walked by; her clothes reeking of stale, dowdy water.

But no, she’d prided herself on being lavish even in troubled times. Poverty may have stained her clothes, but it would not seep into her skin where gold and diamonds had glittered.

It was that opinion, though, that had made them suffer, made her starve, and it was these opinions that Nesta found as she looked towards the forest floor, the opening dark and unknowing. She listened for the hoot of owls or chirp of birds but found none. Besides her thoughts, it was utterly quiet in the trees.

Still, she walked. If Nesta could not find the shop that sold thistle, dried basil, and thyme, another few plants on the list, she would go collect them herself. No matter how impossible that seemed in the middle of winter.

The forest didn’t scare her as much as the first time. Where there was no light, there were secrets hidden in plain view. Where there were pockets of sunshine, Nesta found the forest to be a perfect reading spot. The trees were thick but comforting. The wind chilly, but talkative.

At the very least, it was better than being around people, she thought. The snow covered the ground where she walked, the gnarly roots poking out where the leaves had covered it and Nesta wondered if Feyre had ever felt peace hunting in the woods. She’d scorned them sure. For letting her hunt. For not making it easier. But did she secretly enjoy the thrill? Did she ever look into the field and think, had she not been starving, this might have been a hobby, a calm, peace of mind?

Nesta couldn’t imagine what Feyre would say.

She knew what she would say. That no amount of peace of mind would make her hold a bow.

No amount of pleading would make her train with Cassian. No amount of love or time or regret would make her forget what the cauldron made her, or what Hybern had done to her family. Being calm? No, there was only calamity and Nesta wanted to collect it, store it in the empty space of her veins, and gulp it down as if she were swallowing a universe of stars.

Nesta looked towards the sky, the trees painting clouds where they parted. Where she thought she might have seen the burnt orange glow of a raging sunset, Nesta only saw smoke. She gripped the paper in her hands. Ira’s words faint where she’d held it in her fist.

She followed the trail as best she could. The smoke disappearing under leaves. Nesta had nearly tripped on a broken log, searching for its origin, but a few steps forward and there it would be again.

After more than a few stumbles, Nesta traced it to a cabin.

Worn and abandoned, the brick crumbled from brown to grey. But the sign at the front, scribbled on and lazily written, contained the only word she knew how to read in Illyrian.

Tucked into curling lines, like vines crawling out towards her, tucked in between letters brushing the foliage. The root word, in all its glory, bloomed.

Plants.

Nesta breathed in a sigh of relief.

Staring at the building, she wondered why Ira hadn’t told her that the shop she’d needed was in the forest. A ways away from the cluster of shops in the pavilion of Ironcrest’s judgmental stares. Perhaps, the female had wanted to punish her… for being annoying, stubborn, not easily dismissed. Perhaps, she’d wanted Nesta mad.

She was certainly furious as she kicked the door open.

Four days.

Four days she searched, climbing up the peaks of this blasted town.

Four days, getting hissed at by residents who couldn’t stand her walking around freely, never lowering her gaze, never following some archaic, undisclosed rules.

Four days, she’d worked harder than any week in her entire life.

All for what? A list of plants they could have had imported in from Velaris!

Nesta huffed as she entered the small store, the warmth swallowing her as it did the freezing, frigid air. Four days of that, too.

A soft bell rang as the door slammed shut, and Nesta surveyed all inside.

Bookshelves lined all four walls. Nesta traced her fingers along dusty spines, and were there wasn’t books, all kinds of flowers grew. She’d never seen so many, even thinking back on Elain’s garden. How many types of colors did roses come in? For there were many collected in vases. How many stalks of delphinium? They stood taller than her and Nesta reached high to measure.

Plants seemed to grow out of the floorboard, and she circled the room, only stopping as her gaze landed on a bouquet of amethyst.

In the bouquet, the deep purple flowers she’d seen attached to doors and above mantels, soaked in vase of water, along with others Nesta was not familiar with. Some white, some a dark shade of violet. Their petals twisted menacingly. They bloomed as if they were facing the sun.

Nesta reached out for one, but a cough made her jump back.

“The darkest one is wolfsbane. The white—moonflowers, and the other, the one that looks like a trumpet, is nightshade.”

Nesta turned to face the female who’d spoken. She wore a light summer fabric that Nesta found odd, even in the warmth of the room and as she stepped closer, Nesta noted that it didn’t reach her feet. Instead it crept towards her thigh in a way that made Nesta want to pull her own dress down.

Her hair, dark as midnight, was braided back and even so it went all the way to her waist and she was beautiful. Nesta wanted to roll her eyes at the thought. All fae seemed to be beautiful. But the female was not fae. Not in the way that she was… She looked towards her ears and found them human-like. Not at all pointed in ethereal warning.

“You sell a lot of them,” Nesta remarked slowly. Not a question, really, rather an observation of things she’d seen.

The female shrugged, her hair swiping behind her. “The Illyrian’s have odd ideas about what lurks in these woods… and what keeps them away. Who am I to not satisfy their whims and fancies?”

Nesta held the moonflower up to her nose. It smelled of honey and sweet dreams. “You speak as if you are not Illyrian.”

“Well, I don’t have the wings do I?” She noted, looking towards her back as if to check if she indeed carried wings. She looked back towards Nesta solemnly, seemingly disappointed.

“I have a list,” Nesta spoke, setting the flower down and handing the paper to the awaiting female. She watched as her eyes trailed the page.

“You know, for as long as I’ve been working with Ira, which I admit hasn’t been long, she’s never once sent a fae.”

“I’m new,” Nesta commented. The female shrugged and started taking out baskets, pulling out plants from the floorboards as Nesta suspected. There were a million and one places to store herbs, she thought, as the not fae, not Illyrian moved around the shop.

“You are younger than I thought you’d be.”

The female snorted, glancing up at Nesta. “We look the same age.”

“I am not very old,” She remarked.

“And I am not very young.”

“How old are you?” Nesta questioned, as she was genuinely curious, and she seldom knew anyone who’d she felt comfortable enough to ask.

The female huffed a laugh, pulling out a pair of shears from a glass planter in the shape of a frog. “Ope, what are those doing there?” She chortled, setting them in her basket.

At last when she made it to the counter with a collection of Ira’s order, she peered at Nesta, her eyes sparkling.

“We all have to keep some secrets,” She answered, smiling mischievously.

Nesta opened her mouth to reply, but a voice called out from the back of the shop.

“Ruby!”

At the small tone, the female sighed.

“Ruuu-by!” It sang, increasingly loud.

“You know just take the basket,” She said, moving the batch of plants into her arms. “I owe Ira a favor so tell her it’s settled.”

The female, Ruby, Nesta assumed, rushed ahead opening the door for her, but before Nesta could follow a little boy appeared behind the curtain leading to what seemed to be an apartment in the back. His brown hair floppily fell across his eyes and he pushed it away, revealing the prettiest eyes Nesta had ever seen. Bright green, like fresh fields.

Nesta also noted the lack of pointed ears, the normalcy in his face. He could have been human, she thought, though she knew it to be impossible.

“Jamie, go to your room! I’m helping a customer.”

“But I’m hungry!”

“You just ate an hour ago,” Ruby said, placing her arms on her hips as Nesta imagined every mother did at some point.

“But that was only a snack,” The boy whined, his lips drooping down in a pout. At Ruby’s stern look, Jamie reached up to the counter, taking a jar that Nesta remembered being nettle, and peered inside.

“What’s this?” He asked curiously, sniffing the contents. Ruby rushed to take it from him as he looked up at her with big eyes. She sighed deeply, a whole world of annoyance in that one exhale. Nesta smiled softly in sympathy.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Ruby spared her a glance, giving her a tight smile and waving her off.

“Don’t be a stranger now!” She called, happily at the last moment.

Nesta chose to take the suggestion lightly. As friendly as her words had been, she was still the nameless assistant to a crass healer and she wasn’t going to stay in Ironcrest for long. Besides, most people never meant what they said, she told herself.

She rarely had ever meant what she said.

There was chaos in the streets.

Nesta couldn’t say she was surprised. Destruction would always find them, after all.

But the commotion was not caused by falling rocks as Nesta stood there, casually tracing the people forming a group in the center of town. The cacophony came from voices, ringing high and taut. She could hear the shouts before she could see the Illyrians they had come from. Maybe the noise had come from them all. Some harmonious, calamitous symphony.

She walked towards them, her hands reaching out for the music.

“They’ve taken our sons!” A female’s voice croaked. “They’ve taken our pride. What more will they take from us in the name of the High Lord?”

She heard yells in agreement, her vision blocked by a flurry of wings that lifted higher.

“Who has seen the reward they’ve promised?” Another shouted. “Or was it the limbs our brethren lost, the memories that haunt their vision. What reward will amend for my son being blown to pieces?”

Nesta closed her eyes, suddenly seeing wings obliterated in the recesses of her mind. Ashes, but no blood. It sprinkled around her like rain.

“Who will take care of our baby?” A female screeched. Nesta stood on her toes to see an infant being raised into the air. The child hung blinking at the crowd, wailing as he heard the shouts reach a crescendo of awful sounds. Nesta huffed. As if the child didn’t scream because of his mother.

She pushed through the crowd, hearing the words hey! And stop pushing! Nesta continued until she was in the center of them. Females and males. She could not make out their faces. They blurred in unfamiliarity.

One of the females, her hair dark as night, her face covered in angry lines, pointed.

“Her!” She screamed.

Nesta only stared as the others began to look at her, too. Some sneering, some spitting on the ground near her. Nesta stepped back in repulsion. But the Illyrians stepped closer, as if they might bury her under their bodies and sweat.

“She did this to us!”

Nesta turned her gaze away, sighing slightly as her back seemed to straighten on its own accord, her chin raising in nonchalance.

“See how she mocks us.”

Nesta scoffed quietly.

“She thinks she’s better than us.”

True, Nesta wanted to reply, but thought better of it.

“Her and that bastard making a mockery of this camp!”

Nesta paused at the words, some feeling nagging at her. Like an itch she couldn’t scratch. But she didn’t brush the feeling off, instead she let it ruminate—let it build.

“Some cheap whore,” She breathed, “coming to take our lives away.”

Nesta grimaced, clutching her head. “Would you stop yelling?” She spit. “You’re giving me a headache.”

One of the females, an older Illyrian who looked matronly in her long coat and her wool hat, looked outraged at her remark, shocked that she had such a casual attitude. Nesta wanted to smile, but she merely raised a brow. Try again, it said.

One of the females, the youngest looking, sauntered closer, but Nesta didn't back away. She could feel all of them closing in, the heat of their bodies making her feel sticky in the furs.

“Go back where you came from,” The female seethed, the words forced out of gritted teeth. “human scum.”

“That’s enough!” Cassian roared, breaking through the crowd. His hair tied and tight, his leathers sticking to his skin as if he had just come from training.

She blinked lightly as he turned towards her, his eyes asking if she was okay. Nesta crossed her arms and gave him a look. She could have handled this. By herself.

The group started to grumble but Cassian cut them off, circling them as he waded in the center.

“GO! All of you!” He yelled, pointedly staring at the males who had gathered. Probably marking them down for those who’d receive punishment in the form of extra drills and training. “Anyone caught here again today will suffer the High Lord’s wrath and my own.”

“You cannot tell us where to gather, boy,” the matron scowled. If Nesta didn’t already harbor so much hatred for this female, she might have been impressed.

“Need I remind you that you have another son in my ranks,” Cassian answered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

He seemed to have made a point, for the furiosity in the female’s eyes dimmed. But Nesta knew the Illyrian wouldn’t stay that way forever, just as much as Nesta knew she could never really let go. Anger was just like that. It was a hidden wound in a healthy body. The longer it was there—the longer it didn’t heal—the sicker they became. And one day, one day soon, they’d find it to be too late to heal from their own neglect. They’d die with that pain still raging through their bodies.

But for now, it was bright and burning.

The female dipped her head, smiling mockingly. The others didn’t so much as look at them as they dispersed.

Nesta watched them go, almost sad that the fire had dulled so soon.

Cassian whipped towards her, reaching out a hand as if to grab her, but he caught himself and lowered his arm. He breathed deeply.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Nesta was going to begin telling him why he should have left it alone, why she didn’t need him there, why it was all his fault to begin with, but her gaze strayed to the building beside them.

Lord Ymran was there.

He did not smile at the two of them or offer them greetings. He just stood there, his wings high, his eyes glowering. Nesta wondered how much he saw; if he’d been there all along and had done nothing. Maybe, he’d also been a part of the crowd.

Cassian followed her gaze, his shoulders going taught at the male who seemed unbothered by their perusal of him.

This time Cassian did grab her. His hand held her wrist gently and her brows furrowed at the touch.

“Can we go somewhere else?” He asked, his voice lowering to a hush. For the prying ears, she assumed.

She nodded her head, and within moments he had grabbed her by the waist, and they were soaring through the smoky skies.

Nesta didn’t want to admit that she had let out a breath as the town turned into another dot on a map.

Cassian set her down at a clearing far from the camp and Nesta ripped towards him. The flurry of snow kicking up as she moved. Cassian didn’t want to admit that he was almost joyous she was furious. Angry Nesta meant healthy Nesta.

“This is your fault!” She yelled, her cheeks blooming into rose colored daydreams.

“My fault?” Cassian fumed, astonished at her accusation.

Nesta wagged a finger, her eyes burning behind grey-blue. “This never would have happened if you hadn’t taken me to this camp!”

“You wanted to come!”

“I never wanted to be here! I never wanted to see you again! But nooo.” She sang, her words pitching higher in imitation, “Oh, Nesta you need to go to Illyria because we can’t stand to see you spending our money on ale. This apartment isn’t pretty, you should move to somewhere nicer, closer to us. Those males, they don’t mean anything to you, you shouldn’t be sleeping around. It’s not healthy for you!”

Cassian’s eyes widened as she rambled, and he waited for her to catch her breath. The red of her face trailed down her neck.

“Well you know what I like to fuck and I don’t give a fuck what you say or my sisters or any of you rotten lot. I wish I had never come here and I wish I had never met you! And I wish I’d never become fae, and I wish I would have died in that cabin all those years ago!”

“Look Nesta,” Cassian had heard enough, “I know you feel like life is shit right now. But it is shit a lot of the times and you just have to accept that, because it’s not always like that. It does get better.”

“Oh! Stuff a sock in it!” Nesta roared, her hands waving dismissively. “Don’t tell me how to live my life when you don’t know jack shit about your own. Or did you forget that you’re just as alone as I am!”

Cassian raised his hands in surrender. “You know what? I’m done. Fine. You don’t want to be here? I’m taking you back!” At the words, Nesta crossed her arms, pieces of her hair falling out of her coronet, never settling in place as the wind picked up. “You want to be happily clustered in that shitty apartment, drinking your wits away? Fine. Go head. See if I care!”

He squinted, huffing as the anger seemed to build as much as it had in Nesta. Well, two could play that game. “I hope someone loves you they way you deserve to be loved, Nesta,” He mocked, “With all the pompous half-assery, with your mediocre feelings and your hit the wall moods. Maybe your sisters can find it in themselves to just accept you that way. Nesta, their true, loving sister.”

Cassian’s eyes stung as he stared, Nesta’s red around the edges. Her lips pursed and that bitter brightness that had taken residence in her gaze lessened into a deadly stillness.

“Oh? And here, I thought you said you couldn’t understand how my sisters could love me.”

The mountain seemed to still as the words settled around them like dust, the snow refusing to fall as if it were to afraid to be there with them.

Cassian, in a moment of utter foolishness and because of his penchant for pain, reached out to her. He was always reaching. Never getting nowhere.

Nesta didn’t even look at him as she tucked her hands in her coat, walking towards a rock where she sat, facing the field of snow and sterile silence. Cassian, knowing full well, he was stuck in this moment until she wanted to leave, took up space on another rock.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chastised.

Tagged: @my-fan-side @ekaterinakostrova @anastasia-orlov @lord-douglas-the-third @autumnsletters @soitsgorgeous @sjm-things @courtofjurdan @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @queenestarcheron

I love writing Nesta being oddly protective of Cassian even if she thinks she hates him right now or has some unknown vendetta against him. I just want them to be together already but legally I am not allowed. That would be defamation of character and, to me, romance is a subtle thing. Creeping up slowly and pouncing when they least expect.

Oh, god I love writing them arguing. It raises my blood pressure, but fyuh it’s cathartic!

Anyways, Like, Comment, Reblog and Happy Reading!

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #acofas #acowar #acomaf #qom #vidalinav

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