#ember and nesta made me sob like please

[theostrophywife]

gonna vomit actually nesta is my baby girl 🥺

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light: Chapter 43.5

Notes: So when I posted last week I realised a few hours later that I hadn’t posted the whole chapter! So, here you go. An early, albeit short, update. Thanks as usual to my beta @noirshadow, who is incredibly patient with all my E&L ramblings and makes sure my writing actually makes sense!

Chapter 43.5

Nesta

Cold air snapped at Nesta’s body as Sala flew her to Lorrian and Frawley’s. Cassian travelled behind her, trailing her path, the beat of his wings grating on her until she wanted to scream. 

Of course, he hadn’t let her fly alone. He’d had to make sure that she was safe. That bond again, dictating his desires. Nesta didn’t understand why he couldn’t see that.

By the time she landed, Nesta had whipped herself into a fury that was frantic in its making—quivering with an energy that made her want to roar and sob until she was consumed with it.

“You’ve done your job,” she spat at Cassian, as he landed softly on his feet beside her with a neat retraction of his wings. “Now leave me alone.

They had landed just before the pine trees of the Eastern Steppes, where the forest decided to part for its witch and her home. The pine needles blocked out the sparkling stars above, casting the forest into smudgy shadows that made it near impossible for Nesta to pick her way across the ground, despite her fae eyesight. 

When she stumbled, Cassian flared his magic to light the way but, thankfully, he did not dare reach for her. Loose roots and fallen branches created obstacles underfoot, but Nesta let her body tackle them blindly until she cleared the tree line and suddenly she could see again.

Nesta picked up her pace, storming along the paddock fence as the cottage came into view. The building’s shape was blanketed by a coal-night hue, save for the buttery light that fogged around Lorrian and Frawley’s bedroom window. Besides the smoke puffing from the chimney, the night was alarmingly still, as if had taken in a gasping breath in anticipation of what was to unfold beneath it. 

The absence of Illyria’s fierce wind in Nesta’s anger felt foreign and infuriating, so Nesta walked faster, creating her own breeze. But the soft caress against her cheeks rather than the hurricane she longed for only served to sharpen the blade of her anger until it was lethal.

“Running away again,” Cassian growled from close behind her, his resolve to stay silent clearly breaking as Nesta stormed past the paddock entrance. He caught her wrist with a leather-clad hand and Nesta’s body jerked backwards as she was pulled towards him. 

“Why are you fighting this?” he asked as she snarled at him with such savagery it sounded like a wild animal. His voice cracked like ice over a river. “Why are you fighting something that I know makes you happy. I can make you happy, Nesta.”

“Stop it,” Nesta cut back, the slash in her voice a warning just as much as her words. Because Cassian sounded so agonisingly sad it bruised her lungs, every breath coiled with pain. 

“I’m not letting go,” Cassian told her, and they both knew the meaning was figurative as well as literal as he searched her face for something that would tell him to stay. “You can shout and scream and bite all you want, but you are not running away from me again. Not this time.”

Go home, Cassian.

“I don’t need someone to make me happy,” Nesta spat. “I can be happy independently of you.”

“You can have both.”

A cold, cruel laugh bubbled out of her. “Is that what you tell yourself every day when you pretend you can wear me down? Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? That you’re hoping I’ll give in and accept a bond I have explicitly told you I do not want?”

Cassian didn’t let go of her. Instead, he pushed her hand back to her as if it disgusted him to hold onto her. Nesta caught how his black hair sifted, the strands shining in the starlight, just before she turned her back to him.

It wasn’t too late to catch the curl of his lip and the way hurt seized the green and brown of his eyes. “You think I lie to myself? Nesta, you pull the wool over your eyes every damn day!” The last three words were staccato, thudding after her as she all but spirited away from him on a storm wind. “You have wanted me since you met me. Admit it. You want me and I want you. It’s simple. It’s all simple if you’d just stop fighting—”

The audacity to insinuate that Nesta’s feelings were inconsequential was too much. It hurt more than anything else Cassian had ever said, the rest of his barbs merely needles to this blade. Because none of what was between them was simple. It was a tangled web of terror and confusion and a desperate need Nesta did not understand.

The ignorance—the implied slight at her intelligence—had Nesta whirling, cutting Cassian off mid-sentence. Magic thundered through her veins, her power barrelling to her palms. She had to expel it—had to let it out like a curdling scream. Without thinking, she flung out her hands.

Nesta’s magic flew, roaring silver flames closing the distance between them. All she cared about was making Cassian recoil when her fire sizzled into nothing millimetres from his face. All she needed to see was the froth of his anger as it finally boiled over and met hers. 

But Cassian moved quicker than Nesta had ever seen him. Red light shot from his siphons but this time there was no shield like there had been all of those months ago. Magic barrelled from his chest, his shoulders, his knees, the backs of his hands to meet hers—all of that magnificent power channelled towards her. 

Scarlet and silver lit up the clearing, bathing their surroundings like glistening blood. Nesta braced herself for the slamming impact, expected for them to both be thrown backwards, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her body was seized with a sudden vigour—like a wonderful, gasping breath. And their magic… it didn’t clash. No, their jets of power melded together, silver meeting red until it formed a smooth running stream. It glimmered, quiet and calm in contrast, like the calm and tranquil night sky.

It felt right and wonderful and infuriating. Even Nesta’s magic was betraying her. Even her power couldn’t help but want him, even when she was incandescent with rage for the warrior before her.

Unleashing a growl of anger, Nesta dropped her hands in defeat. They hung at her sides, a useless deadweight. She was panting hard, even though what she’d just done hadn’t exerted her—it had been easy and right and thrilling, as if she’d just woken up from a very long sleep.

For a moment, there was only silence. Cassian’s chest was heaving, his hair as wild as hers. His hands were still outstretched towards her, each and every one of his siphons activated and glowing. Like her, he was staring wide-eyed at the magic that hung overhead like a mist, their very own canvas of stars.

When his eyes flicked to hers, the shock in them was still stark. In fact, Nesta could have sworn she spied terror in them. He stepped forward—her Cassian—but Nesta stepped back. A disgruntled growl rumbled in the back of his throat, and then he was striding towards her before she could even think about moving away from him. Stopped when he was a breath away from her.

Pine and musk wound around her body in an invisible embrace and Nesta’s face crumpled at the familiarity of it. She wished she was curled up beside Cassian in bed, her limbs tangled in his, her nose buried in his neck. She wished she’d never challenged him for answers in the bedroom earlier. Wished she was still living in blissful ignorance.  

Two calloused hands came to frame her face and Nesta couldn’t find the will to shake them off. Couldn’t. 

“Nesta,” Cassian rasped.

Nesta managed to shake her head. Go away. Please.

Cassian’s expression broke even as it remained still. Nesta didn’t understand how, but it did. It was something behind his eyes—the faint flicker of his eyebrows as they dipped in and out of a frown. 

But Cassian didn’t drop his hands from her cheeks, as if he knew she didn’t really want him to leave her. Brushed his thumbs over her cheeks—wiping away the tracks of fury that had fallen from the corners of her eyes.

“Do you want me or not?” Cassian asked quietly, after a long while. His eyes searched into her silver eyes—pierced her soul. Flames danced in the reflection of his irises. And Nesta knew that this was taking everything for him to ask it out loud. “Do you want me, Nesta?”

Run, run, run, the Cauldron mused in Nesta’s head, as it cast that sleepy eye on her. 

Nesta shrugged out of Cassian’s embrace. Her movements were syrupy, as if the air around her had thickened, but still she managed to turn. Her entire body was shaking—whether it was from that leftover rage, or because her heart was breaking, Nesta wasn’t sure.

A sob heaved through her body but Nesta caught it before she made a sound. She couldn’t let Cassian see it. Couldn’t let him know how much she was affected by him. 

Slowly, Nesta walked to the cottage. She was still coated in Cassian’s magic, his scent on her tongue both divine and hellish. And that alone made her want to cry even more. It served as a reminder that she was constantly at war with herself. This battle that had been thrust upon her, chaining her free will and making her question everything.

“Leave me alone,” Nesta ordered flatly, without looking behind her.

Nesta didn’t know why she expected Cassian to stay. To fight. But the sound of beating wings filled Nesta’s ears just as she reached the backdoor. It felt as if someone had closed a fist around her heart, squeezing and squeezing until the blood ran dry and veins popped under the pressure. 

Frawley was waiting at the threshold, her expression grim. The witch held the door open in invitation.

But Nesta paused. Turned back to the paddock.

Cassian was gone.

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[icedflames]

Hello beautiful, can you list all the reasons why Elriel is not toxic and why it won’t be a toxic relationship. I’m tired of hearing people say that Elriel is toxic.

Alright, hang on... This is a long one. 

“Azriel just wants Elain for sex.”

False. Until ACOSF, we had no indication that Azriel had sexual feelings for Elain. Based on his thoughts in the bonus chapter, his actions throughout ACOSF, we can infer that Azriel has romantic feelings for Elain. His friend. 

The following scenes, read together, imply that Azriel has feelings for Elain beyond platonic or sexual feelings (I have only included my favorites for the sake of brevity):

ACOWAR

But Azriel asked softly, “What about Elain?” Something cold went through me. (Chp. 63)

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.” (Chp. 64)

The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. (Chp. 65)

She let out a sob at the sight of Elain, still in Azriel’s arms. (Chp. 65)

Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade— Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife. (Chp. 69)

ACOFAS

Azriel strode to the lone window at the end of the room and peered into the garden below. [...] “Azriel remained at the window. [...] Azriel said, turning from the garden window at last. (Chp. 16)

Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her. Mor tensed beside me. But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.” (Chp. 12)

I made to move toward her, but someone beat me to it. The shadowsinger was clad in a black jacket and pants similar to Rhysand’s—the fabric immaculately tailored and built to fit his wings. He still wore his Siphons atop either hand, and shadows trailed his footsteps, curling like swirled embers, but there was little sign of the warrior otherwise. Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy Solstice.” (Chp. 19)

Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.” (Chp. 20)

ACOSF

“Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. Cassian blew out a breath. “I take that as a no regarding the meeting topic, then.” [...] Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him. (Chp. 20)

Azriel stiffened. “I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.” Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.” (Chp. 22)

He was still happy to be Mor’s buffer with Azriel, but there’d been a change lately. In both of them. Mor no longer sat beside Cassian, draped herself over him, and Azriel … those longing glances toward her had become few and far between. As if he’d given up. After five hundred years, he’d somehow given up. Cassian couldn’t think why. (Chp. 22)

“No. But we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit. (Chp. 31)

Elain just linked her arm through Nesta’s and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it. (Chp. 58)

I also want to add... That the notion that Azriel only has sexual feelings is immediately disproven by a close reading of the bonus chapter:

Rhys bared his teeth. "So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck  someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her." 

Azriel snarled softly.

Azriel snarled in response to Rhys’ suggestion that his feelings are only sexual. The entire scene was Rhys not understanding that Azriel actually had feelings for Elain. Rhys even suggested that Azriel still had feelings for Mor when Cassian had noted that Azriel no longer pined for Mor. 

To add, Azriel is not going antagonize Rhys and potentially kick off a feud between courts if he only wanted Elain for sex. 

ALSO!!!!

AZRIEL IS NOT GOING TO DECLARE HIS LOVE FOR ELAIN IN A BONUS CHAPTER. NO AUTHOR WILL EVER GIVE AWAY A MAJOR PLOT POINT/TWIST IN A BONUS CHAPTER. THAT WILL BE IMPORTANT AND WILL BE SAID IN THE NEXT BOOK!

Cassian never admitting his feelings for Nesta in Wings and Embers. Hell, Nesta kicked him in the balls. But we don’t doubt Nessian, now do we?

I answered another anon here comparing Wings and Embers to Azriel’s bonus chapter, comparing the themes and overall feel. 

“Azriel feels entitled to Elain as the third sister.”

False. Azriel began to show interest in Elain prior to Nesta and Cassian getting together. Please see the quotes above if you don’t believe me. Also, please see my post on the progression of their relationship here. 

Azriel is the first person to figure out what Elain’s powers were. He pulled her from her trance. Immediately after the seer reveal, we start to see Elain revert back to normal. 

Azriel is the one who defends Elain against scrying, a very dangerous thing in ACOTAR may I remind you, when she is not there to defend herself.

Azriel is the one who would sit with Elain outside in the gardens. 

Azriel lent Elain his most prized possession to keep her safe during the war. 

“Azriel coddles her.”

False. Azriel gave Elain truth teller to defend herself. I’d hardly call that coddling.

Let’s take a look at that scene that misguidedly causes people to think that Azriel “coddles” Elain.

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

“But Nesta should?” Cassian growled.

Is Cassian coddling Nesta? No. They both have the same reaction. 

The coddling Elain experiences is from the Inner Circle constantly thinking she’s meek and reduces her to a simple girl who likes to garden. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think. Go back to Feyre and your little garden.”

and then when Nesta refuses to let Elain scry for the trove:

“Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

Very different scenarios. It’s one thing to be protective (one of SJM’s  favorite trope for romantic love interests). It’s another to belittle a person and then not let them grow. That is what Elain is referring to. That is the coddling she cannot stand. 

“Azriel is too messed up mentally to be with anybody.”

False. This is demonstrably false. It is fanon. When this argument is used, it’s used to discredit Elain as a love interest and prop Gwyn up. If Azriel is too messed up to be with Elain, he’s too messed up to be with anybody. Period.

Nesta parallels Azriel in a lot of ways. And everybody loves Nesta and Cassian’s relationship now. Azriel does not have any of the mental illnesses the WebMD doctors come up with every other day. At the most, he has issues with his self worth and possible depression. At the most. 

Saying that a character cannot be in a romantic relationship due to his mental health directly implies that individuals who are suffering with mental health issues cannot get into romantic relationships. That’s wrong and that’s mean.

In Conclusion

Elain and Azriel went from being strangers, to friends, to now possible lovers in a span of two years. 

Their relationship is the most realistic one SJM has written. Nothing about them is toxic. They are kind and considerate of one another. Their feelings have slowly progressed and there are barriers to their relationship (namely, Elain’s mating bond to Lucien). 

There is a difference between not liking Elain and Azriel together (an opinion) and saying Elain and Azriel are toxic together (a falsehood). 

[dropletsofink]

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you”

Five years ago

Feyre poured all of her power into the Cauldron. The cracks slowly mended, welding together seamlessly as if they were never there to begin with. Her palms shone as light flowed through her body, into the obsidian black that devoured it. Rhysand reached out to grip Feyre’s hand, but she snatched it away. She was the one who started it, and she would be the one to end it, even if it cost her her life. And she did not want to drag Rhysand down with her.

The cracks were almost gone, the Cauldron almost complete. Just a little more, just a little more…

She felt it all leave, the summery heat, blinding light, crackling embers, flower-tinged breeze, soft, morning glow, frost-bitten cold, and finally…

She offered up that star-studded kernel of power to the swirling blackness. It took it, just like it had everything else.

Feyre hit the ground before Rhysand could catch her.

Present

Rhys felt the ice-streaked wind before it hit him. Soaring back from the Illyrian training camps with Cassian was proving to be laborious. But then again, everything was now.

Feyre had been gone for five years. Five years since she died for Prythian, sealing the Cauldron and bringing Amren back as her life force faded, as Rhys felt the bond between them fade into nothingness, leaving a ravaging emptiness within him. He’d screamed and begged the other High Lords to do something, anything to bring her back, but they’d only shaken their heads and averted their gaze. She’d cheated death once. She couldn’t do it again.

And yet, even with the Inner Circle grieving with him, he’d never felt at ease. He went to that mountain cabin, taken one look at that table and the room that they’d mated, and torn everything to shreds. He howled and sobbed until he couldn’t feel his heart in his chest, beating while hers was silenced forever.

He couldn’t bear to look Nesta in the eyes. Or Elain, for that matter. While the latter did her best to console him, telling him over and over that it wasn’t his fault, a single look from Nesta almost unravelled him. She blamed him for her Feyre’s death. Heck, he blamed himself for her death. He should have been the one to restore the Cauldron, he should have helped her in those final few moments when it mattered. She’d snatched her hand away because she knew it would claim her life, and she didn’t want Rhys to die with her. Sometimes, he hated her for it. He’d lay awake at night with remnants of her voice in her mind and curse her to the ends of the earth.

But none of that mattered anymore. She was gone.

“Rhys. Rhysand” A faraway voice cut through his thoughts. “We’re almost there. Get ready to land.” It was Cassian. He could barely make him out against the mist, but called back a reply. The rocky mountains loomed closer, so Rhys angled his wings against the winds in preparation to land. Then, a shrieking whistle pierced the air.

One heartbeat later, pain exploded in his wing and he roared as what felt like fire tore its way through his veins.

He looked over and saw his wing, bleeding and ragged, pierced by a single arrow.

An ash arrow.

Wind cut at his face as he plummeted from the sky, as more arrows embedded themselves in his wings. He writhed as he fell, agony flashing through him, the ground nearing with every scream.

“Rhysand!” An earth-shattering bellow cleaved the sky, and somewhere in the fog of pain in his mind, he registered Cassian’s voice. He was faintly aware of a dark shape- Cassian- tearing through the mist and breaking his fall. Rhys’ wings were twisted awkwardly, as were Cassian’s as he did his best to carry his friend to safety, away from the invisible archers.

They shot towards the ground, Cassian landing on his feet with a thump, Rhysand thrown across his shoulder. He grunted as Cassian lifted him, and carried him into the safety of a cave, hidden by snowdrifts.

“Shit. Shit. Rhys- Rhys can you hear me?” Cassian tried to lay Rhys’ wings out flat and stem the blood flow, ripping cloth from his leathers and pressing them against the wounds. “Rhys!” He bent over the already-drenched cloths and muttered to himself. “Madja, I need to get Madja-”

“Cassian, don’t. We’re too far away. There’s no-one around to help. I’ll just burden you.” Rhysand struggled to sit, almost passing out. He felt so light-headed.

“Shut up, you prick, shut up! We’ll- I’ll get you help. Wait here. Just hang on- please hang on.” Hot, frustrated tears pricked at Cassian’s eyes at the sight of his brother, bloodied and twisted, but he continued pressing the cloth against the gaping wounds.

“Cassian. It’s ok.” Rhysand gripped Cassian’s wrist as he pressed down harder, taking his hands away from the bloodied cloths.

“No, hang on. I’ll get help. I will-”

“Cassian, you brute, think.” Rhysand snapped. His consciousness was fast fading but he managed to say, “There are archers outside who’ll shoot as soon as they see you. Your best bet is to stay. Don’t worry about me. I’ll-” His violet eyes met Cassian’s hazel. “I’ll be fine.”

Cassian took Rhys’ hands in his and hung his head. Silence lingered, palpable in the air around them, broken only by their breathing and the water droplets on the ceiling hitting the stones beneath them. Rhysand tried to arrange himself more comfortably, but the weight of his wings made it impossible. Cassian’s grip on his hands tightened before he whispered. “You were never the same after she died. We all mourned her, but not like you did.”

Rhysand blinked. “Cassian-”

He was crying properly now, shoulders bent over, gripping Rhys’ hands like a lifeline. “I know you want to be with her. You wouldn’t forget Feyre, no matter how hard you tried.”

Rhys felt a beckoning darkness beyond his eyes, a numbness that seeped into his limbs. His wounds still pained him, but not with the ferocity that they had done minutes earlier. It was as if someone was leeching the very essence out of him.

Cassian’s eyes widened, cheeks stained with tears. “Cass. Tell the others I love them, and I’ll miss them.”

“Rhys-”

“I love you, Cass. And I’m sorry.” He murmured.

Rhysand’s head slumped, violet eyes glazing over and fading out. He saw two winged figures beaming at him, both calling out to him, reaching for him. And next to them, he saw his mate, as beautiful as she’d always been.

Half between life and death, he smiled.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”