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duskandstarlight · 3 years

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Embers & Light (Chapter 39, NSFW Nessian)

Notes: Well, over a year you've had to wait for these two to seal the deal... BUT NO LONGER. And because I'm thankful to you all for sticking with this story, I've granted you with over 16k of sinful naughtiness. I think it's safe to say this is NSFW but you guys have read my smut before, you know the drill.

Embers & Light has always very much been the alternative story to Habits, but I couldn’t help but write in some crossover moments here to highlight the differences in events--timeline is a fascinating thing! Lemme know if you spot the moments :)

Please let me know what you think :) Comment and kudos will make my day!

I won't be able to write much of August (wedding & mini-moon) but I'll be doing my best to get you guys something as soon as possible. Hopefully by the end of the month, anyways <3

Oh! And I got a bookstagram. Find me at bookships.and.fandoms (and bear with me, I cba to take pretty pics atm)

Chapter 39 Cassian POV

Cassian stared at the doorway and the staircase beyond it, his gaze fixed and unwavering. Nesta had slipped out of the living room to follow Feyre up the stairs over ten minutes ago and he was already consumed with the biting sort of worry that gnawed at your insides.

He wasn’t concerned about what Nesta might be discussing with Feyre—that was her business—but because he couldn’t help but fret when it came to Nesta’s wellbeing.

It was a myriad of concerns that trampled through his mind like a herd of cattle. Had she slept enough? Had she recovered from being caught in the crowds the day before? Was her conversation with Feyre going to have her take three steps back rather than one forward? Cassian had spied the book of fairytales she’d slipped into her bag. Had guessed what she’d intended to do with it.

And then there was the fact that Nesta had left the bed before he’d woken again. Cassian couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d not been there when he’d opened his eyes, especially after the night before.

But that was how it was with he and Nesta. When the sun dipped below the horizon, Cassian often felt as if they were on the right path; as if once the world shut its eyes, the pressure was off and their play could continue. But as soon as light bled back into the sky, things weren’t the same. They weren’t cold… but Cassian felt suspended in a limbo of flirtatious banter and respectful distance. Which was hard, when all Cassian wanted to do was be as close to her as possible: to hold her hand and wind a hand through her hair. To kiss her brow and mouth and sink his teeth into her neck—

Cassian’s jaw tightened. He wanted to do wicked things. He wanted to make her moan and shatter. Wanted to know how she felt wrapped around him. Wanted to see if she’d gasp awake as he pushed inside of her.

Their trip home was going to be a turning point. Or at the very least it would be a milestone—a hammered notch as they progressed towards something. Yet, Cassian wasn’t naive: he wasn’t expecting Nesta to fall into his arms and never leave. But he hoped that it might make Nesta see their connection—not the tie between them, but the chemistry that Cassian knew would forever exist even if the mating bond was severed.

From the very first moment his gaze had settled on the haughty, vicious sister Cassian had known. Had nearly been brought to his knees—the heart-stopping moment so powerful, it suspended time as he felt something turn inside of him, as if something that had lain dormant had finally snapped open an eye.

And because of that Cassian would willingly allow Nesta to forge the reigns when it came to whatever it was between them. He could go slow. He would take the chance that Nesta might grow to accept him, even as he was seized by the terror that she might grow bored and draw a line under things before he had the chance to prove that he was worthy.

Cassian took a deep, steadying breath that made his ribcage heave. Thought of the lullaby that sat in his room at the House. Used that to ground himself and banish the painful thoughts.

Nesta had cared enough to gift him a piece of his past that nobody else had ever gone to the effort to find for him. And that was… everything. It was everything to him.

“I can hear the worry grinding gears in your brain.”

Rhys was standing where Mor had been a few moments earlier, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, his eyebrows raised. Cassian hadn’t noticed Mor slip away. Couldn’t even recall what she'd been saying to him. Had he ignored her? He didn’t know. Didn’t really care. They all knew he was head over heels when it came to Nesta anyway.

Cassian blinked. It took him a moment to process Rhys’s words, but his body finally caught up. An instinctive grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and he commanded his eyes to sparkle, even though it was all fake. “I was under the impression you didn’t think I had one.”

Rhys didn’t chuckle or retort with something dry. Sometimes his brother allowed him to indulge in his self-deprecating behaviour, but it didn’t seem like today was one of those days. Instead, he cut to the chase. “They’re fine.”

Cassian bristled. Didn’t bother to pretend his mind wasn't solely on what was happening upstairs. “Feyre’s speaking with you now?”

Nesta would hate that. Would know if her sister was communicating to her mate whilst they were talking.

His brother’s laugh was as smooth as velvet. “No, she locked me out. It’s a habit she’s started recently and it’s usually coupled with the mental finger.”

This time, Cassian’s smile was genuine, as was the chuckle that chased it. “Feisty.”

“You have no idea,” Rhys responded with a wink.

Mor, who had breezed back to Cassian’s side with a new cup of coffee, rolled her eyes. “We do actually, you two are like rabbits.”

“We’re mated,” Rhys replied with a wave of his hand. “It’s to be expected.”

Mor lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Cauldron, I need to bed someone rather than hearing about my cousin’s exploits with my best friend.”

“Head to Rita’s and find yourself a pretty fae,” Cassian drawled, tugging Mor into a one armed hug.

“Mmm,” Mor hummed, but she chewed on her lip again. Glanced nervously at Azriel, who was in deep conversation with Elain. His shadows were tucked in neatly to his frame rather than trailing, ever-moving and loose around his body, but Cassian knew he could hear them.

Cassian dropped a friendly kiss to Mor’s head before he let her go. Tussled her hair, grinning mischievously when she squawked in disapproval.

As if sensing that his cousin wanted a change of subject, Rhys looked square at Cassian. “Azriel will come over later to update you on the latest movements.”

Cassian sobered as if someone had poured icy water down his back. “Not later,” Cassian corrected firmly.

Tomorrow. No the day after that. Cassian couldn’t guarantee that he’d be able to stop once he’d had his first proper taste of Nesta.

But of course they couldn’t do that—wouldn’t. The situation in Illyria was too dire for them to be so selfish as to lock themselves away for days.

It didn’t mean Cassian didn’t want to, though.

“You’ve got plans?” Rhys asked lightly and Mor froze.

You’ve got no idea, Cassian thought. But then realised his brother knew. Of course he did. Surely everyone in this room knew how desperate he was to get back to Illyria. To have Nesta in his bed again, writhing and moaning, their bodies slick with sweat as they moved in unison.

Clenching his jaw, Cassian grounded that desire between his teeth, until it was nothing but broken, delicious shards that scraped down his throat. His blood coiled. “Yes. Maybe.”

If she doesn’t change her mind.

“It has to be tomorrow, Cass.”

Biting back a sigh, Cassian nodded. “I know. Come at noon. I suppose I’ll be camped out in Illyria for the foreseeable future.” He cast a stern look at Mor. “Send me letters.”

“You have a housemate,” Rhys reminded him. “You’re not going to be entirely alone.”

Mor grinned slyly. “A very beautiful housemate.”

Cassian was more than aware of that.

He grunted and unable to stop himself, he voiced the fear that always niggled away at the back of his mind. “For now.”

But Rhys just loosed another manicured shrug, that was at odds with the ground-breaking revelation that followed it. “For a long while. Nesta has expressed her desire to remain in Illyria long-term despite the discontent. Assuming you don’t mind sharing your bungalow.”

It felt as if an iron band of hope was clamped around Cassian’s chest. He stared at his brother. Tried not to blink. Crossed his arms firmly over his chest, protecting his heart. “And you know this how?”

“Nesta spoke with me. We have arrived at a truce, of sorts.”

That must have been what they’d spoken about yesterday on the balcony. He wanted to know more—everything—but Cassian would not press Rhys. If Nesta wanted to tell him, she would. He had to respect that.

So, he bit back his curiosity and grumbled, “About time.”

Rhys clapped his hand on Cassian’s back, but there was something wary in his expression, as if there was something he wanted to say but wouldn’t. Finally, he said, “Patience is a virtue, brother.”

“I’m not the patient sort.”

“You are when it counts,” Rhys countered, and Cassian didn’t say anything because they both knew what he was referring to. Rhys had been the first to know. Had witnessed Cassian in a tangled web of despair and longing and unwanted visions. His brother had immediately put two and two together. Because he’d been there, too. Knew what it was to want someone you thought you couldn’t have. To hope that someone might finally grow to see you in colour rather than in black and white.

Cassian cast another look towards the empty doorway and the quiet hallway beyond it.

A shiver of anticipation ran through him. It was time for them to go home.

***

In the end, Cassian folded to his worry and had Elain fetch Nesta from upstairs. It was time to go, he’d insisted, even though there was no true reason as to why they needed to leave quite so quickly.

“No guesses required to identify why you want to head back to Illyria,” Mor muttered out the side of her mouth, as the creak of the stairs a few flights above heralded the sisters return. Cassian jabbed his elbow into his friend’s ribs and Mor yelped through her grin, even as she had to sidestep, the nudge throwing her off balance. “What? It’s all over your face. You think I can’t read you after five hundred years?”

“Don’t announce it to the room,” Cassian muttered darkly under his breath, “and you won’t find yourself torn to pieces.”

Mor briefly bumped against his arm, the jostle affectionate. Unfazed by his threat, she glanced sideways at him with rich chocolate eyes. “I won’t. We just want you to be happy, you know.”

Cassian’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “Now isn’t the time for a lecture about finding a more suitable mate.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, hadn’t meant to voice what he’d kept inside for so long.

Mor’s eyes widened, but she wound her arms around his waist. Cassian allowed her to tuck herself under his arm. His friend scented of citrus and cinnamon. When she craned her neck to look up at him, her expression was glowing with sincerity and Cassian realised that she hadn’t been insinuating that Nesta wasn’t right for him at all. “We’re all cheering you on from the sidelines, Cass, I promise.”

The muscle in Cassian’s jaw flexed. He looked away from her, towards the doorway again, unable to help himself. “Don’t say anything.”

She tightened her grip on his waist. “I won’t. I promise.”

“She doesn’t want it.”

Mor untangled herself from him. Shook her head in disagreement. “She does. She just isn’t ready to admit it yet.”

They both fell quiet as Nesta walked through the door with Elain and Feyre. The first thing Cassian noticed was that she scented of water and salt—tears.

Heart pattering with concern, Cassian quickly scanned Nesta’s expression and body language, searching for clues. But Nesta remained close to her sisters rather than apart, her fingers snagged in Feyre’s, her expression not in tatters but smooth and calm, like still waters.

“Ready to go?” Mor chirped from beside him. “I can winnow you back when Sala arrives.”

Nesta’s grey-blue eyes slid to Mor. “I called her on my way down.”

“Then you have time to see the snowdrops you gave me before you leave,” Elain responded eagerly, tugging at Nesta’s arm. “The cuttings took well to the soil. I planted them beneath the shade of the birch trees near the river.”

Cassian watched Nesta disappear into the garden. Surveyed the way a strand of golden brown hair that had escaped her loose braid floated on the breeze, as if it was part of the element rather than separate, as Elain bent to show her the snowdrops.

Yet despite the clear ease to Nesta’s movements, Cassian couldn’t help but ask Feyre whether everything was okay when she came over to hug him goodbye.

“We’re fine,” Feyre assured him, as together they watched Mor tentatively sit beside Azriel on the couch. For once the Shadowsinger’s shadows didn’t lighten, but Azriel still turned to her, drawn by some magnetism as she began to speak with him.

Slim fingers closed around his. Squeezed. “Thank you for fetching the book of fairytales for Nesta.”

The strand of ebony hair that had wrangled free of Cassian’s hair tie tickled the side of his forehead as he inclined his head. That had been a long time ago, when Nesta was a viper that he dared to poke with a stick, just so he could get a reaction. “Of course.”

“You travelled all that way on barely healed wings just to fetch a book.”

It wasn’t just a book, but Cassian knew Feyre understood that, so he only grunted, “Az took me most of the way. He waited to winnow me back.”

But Feyre’s eyes were burnished, as she asked, “Is there anything you won’t do for my sister?”

“It depends,” Cassian replied honestly. Because although he’d rather die than see Nesta hurt, Cassian wouldn’t hesitate to stand up to her when her fire was ill-wrought. And that’s what he liked about the both of them: if he was an ass Nesta told him straight, and he did the same for her. A grin slashed across his face. “Your sister has claws and teeth when she’s angry.”

It wasn’t long before Sala landed on her four large paws in the garden, prompting goodbyes. Mor winnowed Nesta and Sala, whilst Az’s scarred hand closed around Cassian’s arm.

Together, Cassian and his brother passed through realms of shadows and light and raging wings. Then Illyria was taking shape before Cassian bit by bit: there was the sting of winter on his cheeks, the crunch of snow beneath his feet, the scent of pine and untamed air. It felt like that wonderful first heave of your lungs after being starved from air. It alerted Cassian senses—woke him up.

Not bothering to say goodbye for the second time, Azriel bled straight back into shadow, but Mor raised a hand in a parting wave from where she stood beside Nesta and Sala. Her long golden hair caught on the breeze. It tussled behind her like its own puff of wind, before she vanished into nothing.

When Cassian’s eyes snapped to Nesta, he found her standing with her eyes closed, breathing in the wilderness of their surroundings. After a few beats, Sala jumped onto her hind legs, climbing up Nesta’s body with her snow-crusted paws to knock her head impatiently against Nesta’s.

A breath of laughter clouded in front of her as Nesta ruffled Sala’s ears. She murmured something Cassian couldn't identify in the manticore’s ear, before Sala dropped onto all fours and padded through the snow in the direction of the main camp.

Cassian watched the manticore go. He suspected Sala was going to seek out the widows camp and check everything was in order. It was the kind of thing Nesta would fret about—that whilst she was warm and fed, others might not be extended the same courtesy.

Or, the dark part of his mind whispered, she wants Sala out of the house.

You can fuck me wherever you like in the bungalow, Cassian.

The many needles of thrill pierced through him just as Nesta met his stare from across the snow. Suddenly, Cassian didn’t know what to say. His tongue felt swollen and thick in his mouth, words suddenly as viscous as tar. The atmosphere had altered—the aura surrounding them despite the distance suddenly heavy with promise: a change that pointed to something new.

The siphons on the back of Cassian’s hands glowed in anticipation. Nesta merely raised an eyebrow at him. Turned. Walked towards the house just as he caught the thick scent of jasmine and vanilla on the wind.

Cassian’s nostrils flared as it wound around him; invisible ropes of arousal. And then he was moving, following Nesta’s footprints.

His friends had winnowed them to the back of the house, halfway between the small stone outhouse and the backdoor. They weren’t far from the bungalow, but it felt like miles as Cassian stomped noisily after Nesta, his boots compacting the snow as if they were grinding shards of glass into powder.

When Cassian drew up behind Nesta, she already had a hand half-raised towards the door. Even though he wasn’t touching her, she was a whirlpool of warmth. It sucked him in, begging him to line his torso against her back, so when she cursed, realising she hadn’t taken her gloves off, Cassian didn’t hesitate to reach over her shoulder and rest his palm against the wood, encasing her.

The touch of his bare skin—or Nesta’s—was the key to the magical lock. A thunk sounded as the bolt released but Cassian didn’t push open the door—was too preoccupied with the female before him—who had twisted to stare up at him.

As soon as their gazes snagged, history began to knit together in a rush of thread, until it was a tangible, living thing. Because this moment had been written in the stars as soon as Cassian had seen Nesta in her amethyst dress in the human realm; her hair wielded into a mighty crown, her expression haughty and defiant, yet burning with the potential of a life not yet lived. They’d denied that history, even as it waited patiently in the wings. It had watched as they danced around each other, fumbling and snarling their way to this very moment—

They moved in unison. Cassian’s head bowing just as Nesta reached upwards; her body bowing to his, her palms sliding across his jaw until they were around his neck. Their lips met with a force that rattled Cassian’s bones. This wasn't a brush of a kiss. This was immediate and awakening: Nesta tasted like life and breath, like destiny. And yet again, Cassian knew with startling clarity that they were meant for this, he and Nesta. They were meant for each other and nobody could tell him otherwise, including her.

A soft breath whooshed out of Nesta as her back hit the door, but then Cassian was pushing it open, guiding her inside in a whirlwind of noise and wreckage.

The scrape of wood on the flagstone tiles sounded as Nesta’s back knocked against the table before Cassian turned them, his wings grazing against cupboards and the cool walls. Items clattered and shattered, but Cassian used his wings to keep a check on his surroundings, the touch guiding him to the left-hand wall where he could press her against the wall and devour.

Because Cassian could not tear his mouth from Nesta’s. Couldn’t stop tasting her. Couldn’t stop craving the roll of her tongue and the sound of her guttural moans. It fuelled a fireball inside of him; it roared into life in the centre of his heart, before spreading throughout his limbs, rushing through his body until it settled deep in his groin, aching and burning—screaming for relief.

When they finally hit the wall, the thud of their bodies shook the cabinets and the porcelain within it. Without thinking, Cassian took the brunt of it, his hand flying to cup Nesta's lower back and head to purposefully shield her from the hurt.

Because he was coarse and rippling, galloping towards a primal sort of wilderness that Cassian wasn’t sure he could control.

If Nesta was ignorant to the fact or wholly aware Cassian didn’t know. All he knew was that her hands were scrabbling at his leather like dancing flames, tugging him closer.

When he pressed his body over hers, aligning every inch of her to every inch of him, she whined.

Cassian swallowed it. Slanted his mouth across hers. Tucked his wings in tight as every muscle in him tensed in anticipation.

Nesta tasted of chai and vanilla and embers with a destiny to roar.

Another strangled noise came from her throat as Cassian sank his hands deep into the hair at her scalp, coaxing strands free from her braid as his fingers threading through her hair, just as he had done the night prior when he’d coaxed her to sleep. But this wasn’t a soothing touch. This was a touch to startle every nerve ending to life.

Time began to bleed around them, but Cassian only registered the fluidity of the frantic dance they had not learnt. The way Nesta arched into him as his palm slid back to span her waist. The pant of her breath against his skin. His heaving chest. The way his wings began to spread again of their own volition, like a fan unfolding to reveal a secret pattern—as if they were controlled by nothing but the ache of his cock as it strained against the leather of his pants.

As if in acknowledgement that his body was no longer ruled by him, his hips slanted upwards of their own accord. It was a desperate bid to relieve the ache, and his throat vibrated with a thunderous growl as Nesta dug her nails deeper into the leather of his jacket, using it for leverage as she arched into him.

Something turned further inside of Cassian, like a lock beginning to grind as a key turned. And then it felt as if he were plunging beneath water; ducking into the depths and travelling beneath an invisible barrier before emerging on the other side buoyant and surging with power.

Ruby crashed through his veins, like the walls of a dam broken free and… singing light. Magic roared so loudly in Cassian’s ears that he no longer heard the galloping beat of his heart or the sawing of their breath.

Reeling, he tore his mouth from Nesta’s. Her eyes were just as wide, puddles of startled moonlight—endless mercury—and Cassian didn’t need to look down to know that her hands were wreathed in silver.

For a moment they stared at one another. Time slowed until it was sluggish around them and then the feeling receded, as if Cassian was being carried by a wave as it was dragged unwillingly from the shore on thundering feet.

Sound bled back into Cassian’s ears, like raindrops slowly blotting paper. A moan whispered on a wind carried through him, the words fleeting—her name three times, like always—before they dispersed into nothing and ragged breathing filled the hole.

Fuck, they needed to be careful. He needed to be careful if just kissing her led to some transcendental experience. Cassian knew Nesta became open during sex—had seen tumbled images of tangled limbs and heard her moans—and he couldn’t afford to lose her when she had finally let him in. Couldn’t let her down, even though he wanted nothing more than to finally be found worthy by someone.

That twisted rope between them couldn’t widen and strengthen. Couldn’t finally open and click into place with a consensual snap.

Because Cassian had heard stories of mates who had gone to bed. Who had fleetingly accepted what they wanted in their hearts but not in their minds. And after they had both finished and life had been breathed into that bond, only death could sever their Cauldron-blessed connection.

Cassian would not have a mate with regrets, but he didn’t have the will-power to deny himself of her any longer. Not when he could scent how much Nests wanted him. When he could feel it like an unquenchable ache in his bones—an ache which made him tremble and shake. His rocky warrior exterior ground to nothing but sand.

As if Nesta could read his thoughts she tipped her head back, baring the column of her neck.

A resounding guttural sound dragged from his throat. The noise was animalistic and unchained. A booming crack ricocheted around the walls, the muscles in Cassian’s back burning as his wings snapped outward.

Something toppled from somewhere and crashed to the floor, but Cassian didn’t bother to raise his head to look at what it was.

And then time seemed to both slow and drive into a frenzy. Cassian launched at Nesta’s neck at the same time he tugged at her hair, urging her head to fall back even farther.

His lips were against the column of her throat in the blink of an eye; his teeth scraping, his mouth sucking until her blood pounded in his ears. Nesta’s knees buckled but Cassian quickly pinned her body to the wall, holding her up, his knee sliding firmly between her legs…

And… nothing. There was no panic or sensation of being trapped—no sudden fire launching him back thirty feet—but Cassian still tore his mouth from Nesta’s neck. Had to know she wasn’t panicking. “Ok?” he rasped.

A frown burrowed Nesta’s brows. Her swollen lips parted in confusion. Somehow it made her look more beautiful.

Cassian raised a shaking hand to trace it away. “Nesta. Are you ok?”

Understanding dawned like millions of unfurling petals.

When Nesta spoke she was short of breath, the words an exhale. “Don’t hold back.”

Cassian practically arched into her at the words but he made himself remain still, even as his body vibrated with tension. His bones creaked but he held fast.

That stubborn, beautiful chin lifted and Nesta’s eyes glinted wicked yet pure. Always an oxymoron, his Nesta.

“Don’t hold back,” she repeated, her voice stronger this time. She pushed her hips against his thigh and the friction had her lips parting, a shaky breath tumbling from her lungs. “I can take it.”

The words were like slashing knives of pleasure, severing the leash on any control Cassian thought he had.

The subsequent rush of air Cassian loosed was akin to a snorting horse.

Then he was moving and their mouths were fused together again, their tongues a delicious push and pull of control and pleasure before he yanked away.

“Thank fuck,” he gasped. His hands flew to her hips, guiding her to ride his thigh. “Thank fuck, Nesta.”

The friction had Nesta moaning, her fingernails digging so hard into the leather of his jacket Cassian was sure she had dented the material. But he didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything but the living fervour that clawed at them.

His hands were everywhere at once. Tangled in her hair. Sliding over her cheek. Cupping her ass. Attacking the buttons at the back of her dress, until they popped and scattered. Until he could pull the material down her arms, exposing tantalising creamy skin.

At the first sight of her breasts, Cassian growled. He bowed his head to capture a nipple sharply between his teeth before he laved over it with his tongue, smoothing over the wound. He relished the way Nesta cried out. Arched into him. She began to tear at his jacket. It snagged on his wings but Cassian shrugged it off until it hit the floor with a thud.

The first slide of Nesta’s palms beneath his tunic was like oil sizzling in a pan. Cassian hissed as the callouses of her palms scraped deliciously over his skin and scars and ink. Snarled as she made quick work of the stays and fastenings. Tried to focus on her other breast as she inched her hand beneath the tight leather fabric and eased him free.

Fingers wrapped sinfully around him, causing Cassian to snarl around a peaked nipple—to buck sharply—pressing them more firmly against the wall.

“Don’t bother,” Nesta moaned as Cassian wrenched desperately at the fabric of her dress, trying to coax it further down her body. She ground down onto his thigh as it to emphasise her point—her need—and the heat of her burned.

It was all Cassian needed to hear. He fumbled desperately with her skirts until a hand was under the material and sliding up her thigh. Until fabric ripped and her underwear fell away in what Cassian imagined to be a ripple of lace.

In one swift movement, Cassian lifted Nesta’s body upwards, until her legs were gripped tightly around his hips and her back was flush against the wall. Her hands flew to find purchase, grappling at the back of his neck, and when she was steady she raked her hand purposefully through the hair which had come loose from his tie. Tugged at the leather until his hair fell over his face. Whined. Tangled her fingers through the ebony strands as if they were her reigns.

Cassian splayed the hand that wasn’t supporting her body against the cold wall. Tried to catch his breath, but the position evened out the height between them. Just a slight movement would allow him to capture her lips with his, and Cassian couldn’t deny that demanding tug that drove him to devour. Nesta seemed to feel the same way. Moaned in relief as Cassian tasted her as if he couldn’t get enough, gave back as good as she got. Over and over they moved, until they were nothing but an undulating wave of tongue and teeth and groans. The pleasure was a surging, roiling entity. It was all consuming. It overtook Cassian’s body, demanding that his hand drag from her ass straight to her core.

When his fingers slid through wetness, Cassian’s groan sounded like thunderous defeat. He dropped his head to Nesta’s collarbone. Gently pressed his lips to her clavicle. To her shoulder. Tried to ground himself as he slid straight to the spot that made her keen—as pleasure ignited down the bond like a crashing wave. Brushed over it again and again and again. Relishing in the noises he coaxed from her. At the curling fists of desire that clenched agonisingly inside of him.

Cassian had to see Nesta fall. Had to look into her eyes as she broke.

But he wanted to be inside of her when it happened.

Cassian was reaching for his cock at the same time that Nesta let out a broken moan. “Do it,” she breathed. There was no bite of authority in her voice, as if all of the energy she had directed in the pursuit of pleasure had smoothed over the serrated edge of her personality he loved so much, leaving a softer version in its wake. “Please. Just—”

A satisfied snarl ripped from Cassian as he felt her want. And in that moment, Cassian knew there would be nothing gentle about how this was going to play out. It was going to be rough and frantic, riding a wave of pleasure that had been building for too long. Knew afterwards that they would sink to the cold floor in a mass of tangled limbs and mingled breath.

And Cassian wanted that. Had never wanted release so badly in his life.

Something clambered in the back of his mind. Something he needed to remember, but his limbs were moving of their own volition. He didn’t even bother to pump his cock or squeeze it to relieve the tension. Only cared about finally being inside of her.

The heat and slickness of her was sinful and divine when he lined himself up at her entrance. The hand he had braced against the wall came to span her cheek. It relied on Nesta clamping on tightly to his waist with her legs and the press of his torso against hers, but they managed it.

Shaking, Cassian raked back the hair that had fallen free from her braid back from Nesta’s face, just as she tugged him in for a bruising kiss.

There was a moment when everything paused and trembled. As Nesta pulled away and stared at him, her eyes swimming silver—glowing with it—her pupils obscured.

His magic surged at the sight of it. Crashed against his skin as if it was trying to escape. His siphons burned bloody.

“Cassian,” Nesta panted. Despite the keen desperation, there was cushion to his name. Gently, Nesta bowed her head until her forehead rested against his. The gesture was surprisingly tender. It tugged at his heartstrings, triggered his hips into movement as they finally pushed forward.

The tight heat that wrapped around him like velvet was so immediate that Cassian swore. Sweat trickled down his back and seeped into the tunic Nesta hadn’t gotten round to discarding. He trembled as Nesta’s breath stuttered and he felt the burning pain mixed with pleasure as he sunk in an inch. Felt the stretch of Nesta’s body as it strained to fit around him.

Claws dug into his back—Nesta’s nails—biting into his skin, until the metallic tang of blood infused the air.

Cassian’s body stilled before he even had a second to register that he needed to stop. That instinct buried deep to make sure she never hurt.

And then a knock rapped at the front door.

“No,” Nesta moaned. She shifted her hips and Cassian sank a little deeper. That pain flared again through the pleasure and Cassian grip on her turned vice like.

Sense stumbled into his desire addled brain, like a fawn on gangly legs.

But then it righted itself.

Another sharp rap at the door cleared his head completely.

He bowed to bury his face in the crook of her neck but Nesta whined. Tilted her hips again, urging him deeper. “Nesta, stop.”

“No.” Her whimper was doused in frustration, but all Cassian could feel was that sharp needle of pain.

He tried to pull back, but Nesta clamped down around him with that incredible strength of hers. The strength that only seemed to appear at times of desperation or anger.

Cassian’s jaw flexed, his features hardening. “I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not,” Nesta countered, defiance colouring her expression.

“I am,” Cassian retorted, not allowing for a passing beat of their hearts to pass before he replied. “I’m hurting you. Don’t pretend that I’m not.”

I can feel it, Cassian wanted to explain, but didn’t. Knew somehow that if he did they might not end up joining at all.

Desire fogged Nesta’s mind and it fuelled the punch to her next words. “I don’t care.”

Ire punched through Cassian’s desire enough for him to see red. “Well, I do,” he snapped.

Nesta’s nostrils flared at his tone and her eyes burned silver. Cassian wondered how everything had gone southward so quickly—they were on a sinking ship and he needed to patch it up. Knew she felt rejected. So, he kissed her and pushed back that unquenchable ache he felt for her. Knew it hit home because she gasped softly into his mouth, her surprise tart on his tongue.

He pulled out. As soon as his cock fell free that pain throbbed and ebbed. But Nesta moaned all the same.

Moaned again as he drew his head back to stare at her.

She surprised him when her eyes remained open rather than closed off. There was no hard shield. Nothing but want and a vulnerability that made his heart squeeze.

It gave him the courage to do the right thing.

He kissed her again. Trailed a thumb across her swollen lips, ignoring the desire that roared as Nesta sucked it into her mouth, her tongue darting across the top before the bit down lightly.

“This is how things are going to go,” Cassian murmured lowly, pulling his thumb out of her mouth and across her jawline, trailing the wetness all the way to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Nesta shuddered.

“I’m going to get the door and send whoever it is away,” Cassian continued. He paused to let the words sink in. Lowered his head to trace a path with his nose, up the slope of her shoulder, all the way up her neck until his lips were grazing the shell of her ear. “You will go to your bedroom. When they’re gone, I’ll find you.”

Another shiver coursed through Nesta’s body. Her fingers tightened around his neck.

When Nesta next spoke, Cassian knew he’d piqued her interest. “What then?” she demanded.

“Then I’m going to make you come until you see stars.”

Nesta’s entire body froze. For a long moment, she didn’t so much as breathe, but Cassian felt the throb of her blood and magic as it pounded against her skin.

Then, Nesta’s hands worked between them, until her small palms were splayed across his chest. She pushed firmly, indicating that she wanted to get her down. Her body slithered to the floor, her lean legs falling away from his body.

The sudden distance between them felt like miles.

Nesta lifted her chin. “Hurry or I’ll start without you.”

A breath heaved at Cassian’s lungs and he felt his pupils contract, pushing out his irises until they were swallowed by black. The image of Nesta sprawled on the bed wearing nothing but skin, her legs open, a hand moving between her legs had that coil within him tightening to the point of pain.

A growl spiked through the air as another knock sounded at the door.

Nesta must have known she’d wrangled back control, because she arched a cool eyebrow at him. “I thought you were going to answer the door?”

A dark chuckle forced its way out of his chest, but it was mechanical rather than true. Because there was nothing funny about resisting Nesta right now and his body seemed to know that.

Cassian reached for her before he knew what was happening. Rested his forehead against hers. Breathed once. Twice. “I need to calm down,” he confessed.

Nesta snickered, but the sound fell flat as her breath hitched upwards at the end. It betrayed the effect he had on her, even as she said silkily, “Did the image of me pleasuring myself get you hard?”

“I was already hard,” he growled. He pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth. “As you well know.”

A hand reached between them. Stroked over him—the touch feather light but tantalising enough that Cassian bucked into her touch.

And then cunning words, “Maybe I’ll let you watch.”

A string of swear words left Cassian’s mouth. He yanked back from Nesta, as if someone had tugged firmly on a leash. Tugged up his pants and jerked ruthlessly at the ties until they fastened, trapping his cock back into the leather.

With a growl, Cassian waved a hand towards the living room—to Nesta’s room to the right of it. “Leave before I fuck you against the wall, Nesta,” he barked.

Nesta’s sly laugh skittered over his skin, and without pulling her dress back up to cover herself, Nesta sashayed through the nearest arch and disappeared.

*** It had been Mas and Roksana at the door, laden with bags full of groceries and supplies from the market. With full access to the house, there was no reason why they shouldn’t have just come right in. Which meant Mas had suspected somehow, enough so that she had left the bags on the front step and remained standing with Roksana a few feet back.

“I am sorry Sinta, but the meat might spoil,” the housekeeper had apologised as soon as he’d opened the door, his hair a tangled mess from where Nesta had yanked it free of its tie. He hadn’t had the sense to recover it from the floor, but he had righted his tunic and fastened his pants.

And thank the Cauldron for that, because Roksana peeked up at Cassian with wide eyes from her position of safety behind Mas’s legs. He didn’t know when Lorrian had brought the youngling back to the camp, but Cassian guessed it hadn’t been easy on the two of them to take a little girl out of the warmth and back into the snow.

Cassian tried to soften the eyes that he knew were a little wild. He raked his hands through his hair and sent them his most disarming smile, but there was fuck all he could do about his scent. So he thanked her, trying to keep his voice light and conversational. Ordered her to take the rest of the day off.

To the housekeeper’s credit, she did not linger. Had merely nodded and rushed Roksana back into the snow, towards the main vein of the camp.

Yet, whilst the housekeeper’s interruption had been unwanted, it did grant Cassian some breathing space as he rammed perishables into the cool box. Because even though Cassian would allow Nesta to decide how this all played out, he needed to lay down a rule of his own: he could give her the space to decide what she wanted—for him to prove that he could be what she needed—but there was one thing he could not suffer through.

And if they had stormed ahead in a hurricane of lust; with Nesta’s back against the wall as Cassian pounded into her… Well, it would be too late for Cassian to lay down his one condition once they were sweaty and sated. Nesta was more likely to get up and walk away. To not look back.

Cassian found Nesta sitting at the dresser in her room re-braiding back her hair.

Leaning against the doorjamb, Cassian opened his mouth to explain who had been at the door, but an iron band closed fast around his chest, robbing him of breath.

“What are you wearing?” The words came out of him eventually, entirely uneven to the point of being choked.

Because Nesta was wearing his shirt. It was the same steel blue shirt she’d worn that first day in Illyria. The shirt that was an identical match to her eyes, purchased before Cassian had realising what his subconscious had done. A shirt he’d had to hide away in the spare room because Cassian hadn’t been able to bare seeing it in his closet—of being reminded that his mate was a ghost who had banished him away.

Go home, Cassian.

Nesta met Cassian's eyes in the mirror. Announced with cool simplicity, “You ripped my dress.”

“And this is your way of torturing me?”

An indifferent shrug. “Why wear my own clothing when I know what fate it will suffer?”

Cassian knew his nostrils billowed, but he remained propped up against the doorframe. Pretended he was stuck to it like glue because his body was trembling for him to launch across the distance and claim her mouth. Her neck. Her.

The silence seemed to unnerve Nesta. Cassian knew that from months of living with her. From months of studying her slight tells when her masks slipped.

Right on cue, Nesta reset her posture—a gesture that most people read as defiant. But Cassian knew it was also a sign of nerves. She shrugged with feigned indifference, even as her throat tightened and that damned pulse fluttered temptingly against her throat. “You liked it the last time I wore it.”

Cassian huffed a breath. He had liked it the last time she wore it, even if she’d been so gaunt that he’d worried she might wither away. But the shirt… it had put images in his mind that Cassian had long tried to store away, imprisoned in rock and flame: her in his clothing, not fucking other males but him, her lithe legs wrapping around his waist as he sank deep—

Which brought Cassian neatly to the point he needed to discuss with her…

Nesta’s eyes tracked Cassian in the mirror as he peeled himself out of the doorway and came to stand behind her. When their eyes locked into place, it felt as if someone had punched him in the chest. There was something deep in Nesta’s gaze that made it feel as if he was tumbling down a rabbit hole, that magnetism between them drawing him in like gravity.

When Cassian’s fingers brushed Nesta’s neck—ran down the braid she had draped over her shoulder—Nesta shivered. “You had your hair down then,” he rasped. Didn’t wait for her to protest, as he slowly coaxed the tie free from the end of her hair.

Nesta turned preternaturally still, watched him gently part her hair in the mirror until it fell free from her plait, his calloused fingers brushing over her skin as he coaxed her hair to fall down her back.

The pulse hammering at her throat and the warmth radiating from her skin were the only indications that Nesta was alive rather than stone.

Only when Cassian had finished and lifted his hands from her neck, did Nesta come back to life.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. But she cocked her head slightly to dissect him. “It’s a nuisance like this. It gets in the way.”

“It’s beautiful,” Cassian corrected, his voice rasping, like sand scraping against skin. He ran a hand through her hair as if to emphasise his point, his fingers running down, down, down until her waist.

When Nesta stood and turned into the warmth of him, Cassian scented what she wanted. But there was something else simmering in her expression—surprise. As if she’d caught the truth in his words and hadn’t expected someone to truly think her beautiful.

She stepped closer, until the lines of her torso ghosted his. Until Cassian’s heart pounded so hard he could hear the frantic tempo of it in his ears. Nesta tilted her head back so she could stare up at him and Cassian’s hand weaved through the mane of her hair before he could stop himself.

He was desperate to touch her again. Desperate.

But Cassian waited. Waited for Nesta to reach up on tiptoes and press her mouth to his.

The kiss was not like their bruised, desperate kisses from earlier. It was coaxing and unsure; the tentative beginning of something that was not merely fuelled by ardour. But it soon blossomed into something more, like a snowball rolling down a mountain blanketed white, gaining speed as it grew and grew—

Dragging his mouth away from hers, Cassian fought for breath. Battled to remember what he needed to do and say. But then Nesta was tugging his head back down again, her fingers tangled in his hair, the gesture indicative of an insistent need that Cassian knew would not go away.

As always, Nesta tasted divine. Addictive. He could taste the curl of her power on his tongue—silver and white, life and death—and he wondered if she could taste his. Knew his siphons were glowing scarlet—

“Nesta,” he murmured hoarsely, her name a caress against her lips. He couldn’t invoke a distance between them, couldn’t stop touching her. His nose brushed hers as her drew back an infinitesimal amount. Closed his eyes. Inhaled deeply, summoning courage. “You can dictate how this goes between us. But if we do this, I can’t—there’s no-one else. Just you and me.”

The subsequent pause was one of the worst of Cassian’s life. It was barely a breath. The blink of an eye. But it felt as if it was malleable and elastic, drawn out by the hands of fate as everything suspended in time.

He didn’t want to open his eyes, but in the end he managed it. Caught Nesta’s eyelashes flutter downwards, casting shadows on her skin. Her fists tightened in the fabric of his tunic, anchoring him to the moment.

She swallowed. Shook her head. Agreed with a conviction he had not been expecting, “No-one else.”

The relief that swooped through Cassian was so fierce it was painful. But he still didn’t dare to believe it.

He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger so Nesta could not look away. So he could look into the deep waters of her irises and know she was telling him the truth.

But her gaze was steady and unwavering, as he demanded, “Say it again.”

His voice cracked but Nesta didn’t appear to notice. Her grip on him tightened. “No-one else,” she repeated on an outward breath.

A low, ravaged moan sounded from Cassian’s throat. “Diyosa,” he murmured, slipping into Illyrian. Goddess.

“Bruha,” Nesta corrected. She fumbled over the pronunciation but Cassian felt as if he had been an ember that had burst into flame. Witch.

He let out a rough bark of laughter. Then he swore in a long, drawn out moan. “No Illyrian,” he ordered roughly. Pressed his mouth firmly against hers, the kiss searing. “Otherwise this will be over far too quickly.” Another kiss. “And I want to take my time.”

The smile Nesta painted against Cassian’s lips was feline. “You’ve made a lot of promises, General. I hope you don’t disappoint.”

Cassian snarled. Spun her body until her back was cradled against his chest. “I have, haven’t I?” he mused lightly, even though the hammering of his heart must have beat a betraying rhythm against her shoulder blade.

In the mirror, Nesta’s expression grew less poised and controlled. Delight mixed with anticipation clung to her features at this game they played; this tussle for control. She did not try to wrangle free from his hold or shift uncomfortably in his arms at having her back enclosed against his.

It thrilled him—that trust. Enough so that when he met her eyes in the mirror, Cassian found that his irises had been swallowed by his pupils until they were only a ring of chocolate gold.

Slowly, Cassian brushed Nesta’s hair over to one shoulder with his left hand. Traced his fingers down the arc of her neck to her collarbone. Continued a path down the centre of her chest, to the pyrite which glittered between her breasts.

When his fingers met the first button of his shirt, Cassian toyed with it. Purposefully grazed his nose against the shell of her ear. “Shall I start here?” he murmured. “Undress you in front of the mirror whilst you watch?”

Nesta suppressed a shudder, but Cassian caught it. Could swear he felt her blood boiling beneath her skin as he slipped the button free of its hole. Then another. And another. Until there were no more buttons and the material hung free.

Leaning back into his body, Nesta rested her head against his chest. Curved her back slightly so her chest thrust upwards, silently instructing him where she wanted his hands.

And Cassian couldn’t deny her. He turned his palm so it was face up and curled into a loose fist. Brushed his knuckles down her sternum all the way to her bared naval, before bringing it back up. His fingers ran up the side of the material free of buttons, until he was at her collarbone—her shoulder—leaving a litter of goosebumps in his wake.

This time, Cassian snickered when she shivered. Dropped a slow and deliberate kiss to her bare shoulder as he slowly, slowly inched the material down, down, down over her arm. Repeated the motion on the other, until the shirt pooled onto the floor, exposing her bare body to the mirror: endless creamy skin, divine curves, the luscious full weight of her bare breasts, and… lower.

Nesta’s eyes, which had been tracking the fabric as it fell away, snapped to his as a feral growl ripped from him. And she moaned at the expression on his face. Grabbed at his hands, pulling them to her body.

“Touch me,” Nesta hissed, but it came out strangled. Almost pleading. Another crack in her armour as it broke and fell away.

The sight was enough to threaten Cassian to his knees. He guided her body backwards, his hands splaying firmly across her stomach despite her whine, until his legs hit the edge of the mattress

Neither of them broke eye contact in the mirror. Not when Cassian coaxed Nesta down to sit on the bed with him. Not when he pulled her between his legs, her back firmly against his chest. Not when he bowed his head to kiss the slope between her neck and shoulder.

When Cassian finally brushed a thumb over her nipple, Nesta back bowed so fiercely Cassian was thankful he had an arm strapped across her stomach.

The small noise she loosed fuelled his fire and Cassian held on to her. Stroked over that peaked nipple again as Nesta careened into his touch. Followed it with a firmer roll with his thumb and forefinger. Used the fingertips of his other hand to draw slow, tantalising circles across the silken skin of her lower stomach, before he moved southwards…

The air around them hushed when Cassian’s fingers stilled. Anticipation built and only when it vibrated with tension did Cassian slide his hands to cradle Nesta’s hips.

A snarl of frustration, but Cassian paid the sound no heed. Only grazed his thumbs over Nesta’s hipbones. Watched her expression in the mirror—the way her face contorted as she squirmed into his touch as if she was a puppet on strings. Ground back onto him, pressing into that building ache that was bordering on painful.

Fuck, Nesta.

Cassian wasn’t sure if he had spoken out loud or in his head, all he knew was the blessed, fleeting relief he felt as he bucked into the small of Nesta’s back on instinct. He was rock hard and thirsting to be touched, but the thickening scent of Nesta’s arousal pulled his focus.

A groan rumbled from Cassian’s throat as Nesta’s hand darted between her legs. He caught her wrist just in the nick of time. Kissed the heart of her palm. Rumbled into her ear, “Not yet, sweetheart.”

His voice was coarse enough that Nesta shivered, the goosebumps travelling down her skin like a cresting wave. She didn’t struggle against him, nor did she move to disobey him as he dropped her wrist. Instead, she waited, trembling and shaking at every pass of his thumbs over her skin.

Cassian buried his nose behind the shell of her ear. Breathed Nesta in, steadying the drum of his pulse.

Not once did he take his eyes off of hers in the mirror, especially as he murmured, “Shall we find out if you’re wet for me?”

Nesta squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as if the movement would steady her. Swallowed hard. It was so unlike her to take stock, to show any signs that she was rattled, that Cassian softened. He nuzzled at her neck, trailed a line of kisses instilled with promises. A hand flew up to tangle in Cassian’s hair, keeping him there.

“Yes.”

The word stuttered out of Nesta on several staccatos, but she forced her eyes open and met his gaze in the mirror. Watched as he pulled her tighter against him and hooked her legs over his thighs so she was spread wide. Slipped his hand across and down…

The first ghost of a touch had Nesta panting through her nose. The second had her gritting her teeth. The third had her moaning, her back bowing so sharply as he skimmed straight over the place she wanted him the most.

Her head hit the centre of his chest with a resounding thud that had his bones creaking, but she did not look away from him. Seemed to know the game they were playing without him having to express it.

When Cassian brought his fingers lower and discovered just how wet Nesta was, he had to force his wings in tight to his back to hide his surprise. Growled, “You’re soaked.”

Pleasure and embarrassment twisted in Cassian’s stomach, and Cassian wanted to tell her that it was not something to be ashamed of, that he wanted her just as much as she clearly wanted his fingers between her legs.

Her eyes glinted steel, her stare commanding. “Make me come—“ she ordered, but Cassian chose that moment to roll his finger over that spot at the apex of her thighs.

The command bottomed out of Nesta as she inhaled sharply. Satisfaction bloomed inside of Cassian; because he may have done this countless times before but barely enough with her. And nothing seemed to matter apart from him seeking out her satisfaction. Of learning about what made her body freeze with pleasure and what made her come undone. “There?” he murmured into her ear, repeating the movement, before he passed his fingers down further. Until they were at her entrance, playing gently before he drew upwards and circled.

This time, Nesta groaned. Her hips jerked sharply beneath him, tilting, guiding him to just the right place.

Picking up on the cue, Cassian increased the tempo and friction until Nesta’s hips were rolling in a punishing rhythm against the hard length of him.

And Cassian snarled in satisfaction, his fingers tightening around her hip in a plea for her to keep moving—to not stop pushing back on him—because it was blissfully good. The rapid tightening in his groin was almost painful, the cord so tight that Cassian thought it might snap. But he couldn’t stop Nesta, not when she looked so bewitching, the arousal so stark on her face as he stroked and circled and pressed.

Burning pleasure clambered to its peak and Nesta’s eyes grew so heavy they fluttered closed. Something unintelligible left her lips, her head tipping back into the heart of his chest.

When Nesta’s arms wound around his neck, her knuckles accidentally grazing the leather of his wings, Cassian part-snarled, part-roared. Swore. Held her even tighter as his wings snapped out high and mighty behind him. They wrapped around Nesta’s body before Cassian’s pleasure-fogged mind could stop them curling towards her, starved for her touch.

Fuck, he was unhinged. So desperate for relief—in the scent and feel of his mate—that his control was barely there. Enough so that he didn’t react when Nesta reached out her hand—

Sense knocked Cassian for six only when Nesta’s fingers were millimetres from touching the membrane. He drew back his wings so fast the air around them stormed, but he swooped in before surprise could register on Nesta’s face. Dipped his chin and coaxed her head even further back so he could claim her mouth.

The taste of her lips was as vital as breathing, the scrape of her nails on his scalp grounding. He moaned into her mouth at the same time as she whimpered. His hand was still moving between her legs, interchanging the same three patterns over and over again, mixing things up as soon as Nesta’s moans grew too untamed: he wanted to draw out her pleasure, not sate it with a few choice strokes.

Pulling away, Cassian pressed a kiss to her forehead. Coaxed her to dip her chin until she was looking back at their reflection in the mirror: ebony and golden brown, tan and cream.

Nesta’s irises were wisps of silver, but when he traversed past that bundle of nerves so he could slip two fingers inside of her, they flickered into living flame.

That was indication enough that she liked what he was doing. Cassian had quickly learnt that Nesta became completely readable between the sheets, that mask slowly crumbling away until she broke completely.

Curving his fingers as much as he could, Cassian pressed upwards hard—again and again— revelling in the strangled sounds Nesta made. The way she writhed but tried her best to hold his gaze.

Cassian dropped a lingering kiss to the crown of Nesta’s head. Murmured into her hair, “Is that good, sweetheart?”

The only response Cassian received was a long moan which extended into a whine as he withdrew his fingers. Then a sharp cry as he swept them upwards, swirling them in a well-practiced motion that had Nesta’s lower half seizing in pleasure.

Cassian circled again. Again. Firmer. Faster. Nesta’s cries grew louder, her breathing became more laboured. A silver wreathed hand flew to his forearm—not to stop him, but to keep him there.

Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

The bond between them creaked and cracked as it expanded.

Nesta panted his name.

“Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?” Cassian scratched out.

In vain, Nesta attempted to burrow her head into his shoulder, but Cassian’s voice dropped out of soft and into the role of general within the fraction of a heartbeat. “Eyes on the mirror, Nesta, or I’ll stop.”

It seemed to take all of Nesta’s energy to fight her leaded eyelids and meet his dark eyes in their reflection. When she did, Cassian’s magic roared and pounded beneath his skin, as if it was trying to break free and join Nesta’s. There was a pressure and power fuelling the sensation that was separate to him. It was like the magnetic force which rules the relentless ebb and flow of the tide—that desperate crash followed by a scrabbling, thundering retreat.

That twisted rope between them grew corporeal, tugging at their ribcages as if it was clambering to remind them both of its existence. Of the cost of this exchange.

Something deepened in both of their gazes, but if Nesta had felt what Cassian had, she gave no indication. She only arched her hips back into his, grinding backwards.

Cassian loosed a rough groan that skittered across the shell of her ear. Her gaze was purposeful but hooded, as if she was in a continual battle with the pleasure weighting her eyelids.

“Good girl,” he praised as Nesta’s eyelashes fluttered from the strain of maintaining eye contact. And then his fingers were everywhere at once and Nesta’s moans fell away to short gasps that rose in volume.

Nesta tightened her fingers around his neck, scrabbling for purchase, for some sort of tether as her pleasure launched high into the air. The hand that had been at her hip, steadying her, encouraging her to roll back on him moved to her breast; cupping and pinching and rolling as she stuttered pants and words that Cassian couldn’t make out.

When Cassian slid two fingers inside of her again and pressed down firmly on her clit with his palm, Nesta’s cry was wild.

“Look at me,” Cassian ordered as Nesta’s eyes flew shut. His voice was resonant—startling—even to him. It punched through the bubble that had encased them—their entwined scent—and Nesta’s eyes snapped open.

For a beat, time seemed to stand still around them. Their gaze fastened back into place and for a moment, Cassian could see a conflict of thoughts swirl in the magic of Nesta’s irises.

He froze just as anguish crashed down that bond, right into the heart of his chest.

It knocked the breath from him. Confusion rattled inside of his head but he came up empty of answers. Had he gone too far? Had he hurt her somehow?

“Sweetheart—“ he started, but stopped. Unsure of what to say because he could still smell how much she wanted this. Could feel how soaked she was. But perhaps that was what the mating bond did. Fooled reason with an overwhelming drive to pleasure and claim.

Cassian went to draw his hand away but Nesta’s hand whipped out, her fingers curling around his wrist. Desperation flooded her next words—the plea in them stark. “Don’t stop.”

As if to punctuate her point, she rolled her hips. His fingers slid over her of her own accord and she stumbled a moan. Light barrelled down the bond and Cassian’s blood spiked, thrilled as he felt the truth of her words, as she ground back into him again.

“Fuck that feels good,” Cassian grunted into her ear. His hips pushed into the small of her back, accentuating his point. It chased the delicious reprieve from the ache in his cock, even as he knew this moment wasn’t about him. As he pulled her back into the solid muscle of his chest, steadying her movements so he could pick up where he left off: so he could watch the pleasure whip away her conflicted expression until her eyes were once again blazing with the promise of flame.

Silver mist climbed from Nesta’s fingertips into the air. It crawled over the glowing ruby siphons across the backs of his hands, past the corded muscle of his forearm and the rolled up sleeves of his tunic, to his chest, his neck…

A sheen of metal shone in Cassian’s eyes, flickering across his irises so they appeared to turn a metallic gold. The lick of Nesta’s magic didn’t burn. It was a rush of heat—the tender caress of a lover’s kiss instilled into his skin over and over again, ascending Cassian to another realm of pleasure, as if he’d climbed a staircase to an entirely new place.

It felt like an extended method of foreplay Cassian had never been privy to before, lighting up every nerve ending until he was so hard he could cut stone.

Gritting his teeth through the pain-cloaked pleasure, Cassian focussed instead on Nesta’s bare skin.

The tempting fullness of her breasts. The way desire had completely rewritten her countenance. The way she whimpered and then cried out.

Cassian sped up his movements. Until his fingers were no longer teasing, but dancing over her with sure, quick movements designed to thrust her towards a crescendo.

Nesta’s magic swirled into flame, the heat of it a licking promise down Cassian’s limbs. He groaned, swore at the exquisite pain on her face as she hung at the precipice, ready to plummet into rapture.

Her climax became a tangible, living thing and Cassian wanted to see it play out for as long as he possible could. Wanted to see her break for him again and again and again.

So, he waited until she reached the summit and when she was there he slowed down his movements. Ordered through her whimpering, “Look at me Nesta.”

Metallic irises met his, and then Nesta was trembling and shaking in fits and bursts as her release ripped out of her like a taut cord cut loose. Cassian drew her orgasm out as best he could, suspending that pleasure until finally Nesta slumped against him, spineless.

She turned her head to bury it in his shoulder and Cassian let her. Stroked her hair. Pressed a kiss to her sweaty head. Murmured, “Good?”

Slowly, Nesta nodded, but for a long while, that was the only communication he received. But Cassian let her recover. Watched the way her ribcage moved as she heaved for breath. Relished the way her body was splayed out over him, her legs held wide open from where they were hooked over his thighs.

Unable to help himself, Cassian brushed over her sex. Delighted in the way Nesta shuddered rather than batted him away. Fresh desire reignited across her expression and Cassian played gently for a few minutes, revelling in the wetness that had gathered from her release.

Finally, Nesta lifted her head to meet his gaze again. “Did I burn you?”

“No,” Cassian replied hoarsely, his heart squeezing at the genuine fear in her words. He let out a rough laugh, passed his fingers lightly over the knot at the apex of her legs for the last time before he withdrew them.

Nesta moaned softly, even as her brow twisted into a small frown.

“It felt good,” Cassian elaborated. He kissed her shoulder at the same time that he pushed his hips into hers as if to demonstrate just how much he’d liked her magic. “I’m being strangled to death in these pants,” he confessed.

When Nesta cocked her head, her hair moved in a golden tangle. Then she smirked. Unravelled her limbs from him and turned.

Nesta slung her legs over his waist so she was straddling him just as Cassian’s hands caught in her hair. A booming sounded as his wings snapped out and fanned behind him, settling like falling fabric.

“We can’t have that,” Nesta remarked, her breath a whisper against his skin.

“No,” Cassian agreed roughly. “It’s your favourite part.”

Nesta snorted a laugh, but it was not derisive. “Egotistical bat,” she muttered.

A slow, smug smile was Cassian’s only reply. Because he was more focussed on her mouth. With the feel of her silken skin beneath his palms as he ran them up her legs and over her rounded ass. His touch was a promise as he tugged her into his body and ground up into her core, the seam of his trousers doing nothing to relieve the damning ache in his cock.

Together they gasped, and then, as always, they moved at the same time, their mouths slanting one another within a fraction of a second.

The heat of Nesta was liquid, the touch of her smoke—feverish and everywhere all at once. It was the same heat that had roared into existence when Cassian had pinned her against the wall earlier, yet… better somehow. Passionate and awake rather than fogged with lust. Life-giving.

A shuddered groan was pulled from Cassian’s chest as Nesta’s hands slid beneath his tunic and met his burning skin. And then the tunic was on the floor—the rest of his clothing was torn from him soon after. It all happened at such speed Cassian could barely keep up, but when Nesta reached for his bare, burning skin—the tattoos on his arms and the faint scar on his stomach—her fingers were gentle.

“Battle scar,” Cassian panted in explanation, as Nesta’s fingers lingered on the silvery tissue that wound over his lower abdomen: a permanent reminder of what had happened to him during the final battle with Hybern. “The trauma was too great for Madja to heal completely.”

“I remember,” Nesta replied shortly and she looked so fierce that Cassian reached for her. Cupped her cheek with his palm.

“Still breathing, Nes.”

Nesta nodded, but when she kissed him this time there was something fierce and desperate about it, her fingers burying deeper into the mane of his hair.

And then a hand was trailing down his skin and closing around his cock. The touch was sinful and a glimpse of the heavens. When he hissed into her mouth, Nesta gripped tighter—until pain laced the pleasure—just how he liked it.

His groan was that of rumbling thunder as she began to move her hand. It was everything Cassian needed, but it was too much, too good. He scrambled to hold on to some sense of control, because he’d never been this close to losing it from just a few touches.

Then Nesta stopped. Glanced downwards—

The realisation thumped through Cassian so loudly his heartbeat punched like a fist against his ribcage.

“Don’t you dare,” Cassian choked out.

Nesta’s eyes shot to his, but rather than looking startled she arched a challenging eyebrow.

“If you so much as try to put my cock in your mouth I’ll explode,” Cassian rasped.

Before she could protest, he was gathering her to him and had slipped a hand down between her legs.

Just the touch of his fingers had Cassian seizing back control. Nesta stilled at the sudden pleasure, as if she was trying to coax time into suspending the sensation.

“Still so wet,” Cassian purred against the tip of her ear.

Gliding his fingers over the centre of her, Cassian paused briefly at the apex of her legs, toying with her clit, before he ran them back down. When he drew his fingers back, rubbing them together and raising them to the faelight, they glittered.

Nesta’s nostrils flared as if she was an animal in heat. And Cassian knew before he spoke that his voice? would be what pushed them over the edge. But he said it anyway, his voice dropping impossibly low, “Is this all for me?”

Nesta launched at him until their mouths collided, until they were nothing but a clash of teeth and tongues, their skin so flush they may as well have been fused together.

Burying her fingers deeper into the tangled mane of his hair, Nesta tugged sharply. Met his gaze head on. Demanded, “Fuck me.”

All it took was those two words. Cassian moved, flipping them so Nesta’s back was flush against the mattress. He covered her body with his and Nesta whined at the contact, her body bending and arching towards him as if she were a plant and he was sunlight.

Cassian ran a hand up her bare thigh to her ass, coaxing her leg to bend, but Nesta was too impatient. She broke free from the weight of his body, repositioning herself until legs were wrapped tightly around his hips.

An uneven laugh choked out of him. “So stubborn,” Cassian chided darkly, but he allowed his hips to fall into the cradle of hers. Hissed as he loosed his control and thrust so his cock could glide through her centre. “Fuck,” he grunted. “Nesta, fuck.”

Nesta’s breathy whine fuelled the sparks of pleasure that crackled through him like static energy. He kissed her hard. “There’s a high probability I won’t survive this.”

The snort Nesta loosed tried to sound unaffected, but her voice shook as she accused him, “Liar.”

But he wasn’t lying. And Nesta knew it. She had to know it because his walls were now shattered around them in splintered shards.

Yet, Cassian found himself assuring her. “Not lying," he grunted as he passed over her again. Pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth—a parting goodbye as he moved to kiss the underside of her jaw, down the column of her throat. Down further, to flick his tongue and scrape his teeth over both nipples.

He moaned when she moaned; their sounds a chorus of want until he couldn’t take it anymore. Cassian’s claws clipped around the metal of the bed frame at the same time that he pushed off of the palms that were framing her face, until he was on his knees before her.

Despite the desire coursing through him, Cassian’s head was nothing but clear as he slid his hands under Nesta’s ass and lifted her effortlessly, positioning her so that the undersides of her thighs were flush against his knees.

Nesta’s hair was tousled over the pillow, her lips swollen and parted as she surveyed him. When she tried to wrap her legs back around his hips, Cassian held firm. And despite the fact that Nesta listened to nobody, she allowed him to bend her knees and press his calloused palms to the insides of her thighs in silent instruction.

They fell open and a growl rumbled in Cassian’s throat. His hand was fisting his cock, lining it up to her entrance before he knew what was happening. But then he remembered the pain from before. And even though Nesta was more than ready for him, the thought of hurting her made him feel physically sick.

When he moved away, Nesta let out a strangled noise. A hand shot out, closing around his wrist. “You said you’d fuck me.”

Cassian wanted to explain, but that meant alluding to that tie between them, that instinct that couldn’t allow him to see her hurt. Cassian knew Nesta wasn’t ready for that. Knew that if he so much as breathed a word about it that this precious moment would fall away.

And Cassian was selfish. He had to see how this played out. Had to know if Nesta could grow to accept the bond between them—deem him worthy enough to accept something that was Cauldron blessed.

So, he only drawled, “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

One swift movement had Cassian gathering Nesta into his arms. This time, he allowed Nesta’s legs to wind around him. She gripped him like a vice and Cassian knew it wasn’t from fear of him dropping her. When he sat back against the headboard and guided her onto his lap, Cassian expected her to bite out a comment about doing all of the work, but Nesta only let out a pleased sound. Weaved a hand back into his ebony hair. Wrapped a tight fist around his length, twisting once at the tip, before she guided him to her entrance.

Cassian hissed a curse as she closed around the head. Murmured her name into her mouth. Gripped tightly at her hips when she didn’t stop sinking down on him, as he felt that pain mixed with the sweetest pleasure.

“Nesta.” The way he said her name was firm and commanding, but he still had to dig his fingers hard enough into her skin that he was sure it would leave temporary bruises. The thought made him falter, but then that sharp pain flared again as she resisted against him, and he knew that the bruises were a necessary evil. “Nesta,” he barked, “Go slowly.”

Something creaked and cracked between them. A stretching, growing pain reached its fingers down that bond, the sensation strong rather than constricted as it fought to make its way down their usually thin tie.

Nails dug into Cassian’s neck. A whimper sounded in his ears as Nesta fell forwards, burying her face into his neck. “Please,” she whined in frustration. “Cassian—”

She broke off as she clamped down around him and Cassian felt an ebb of pleasure cut through the pain—that promise of something more.

“Don’t make me hurt you, sweetheart,” Cassian pleaded and the rawness in his voice stopped her resisting against him. He eased a hand between them, touched her right where she wanted him. Allowed her to tug his face upwards so she could kiss him. It was infused with desperation and Cassian eased his hold on her hip. Allowed her to lower herself downwards until she had slid another inch deeper. Continued to stroke her until Nesta began to shake.

“I’m going to—,” Nesta gasped against his mouth. Her body trembled and Cassian’s blood roared at bringing her to the edge again so soon, despite the pain. “Cassian—”

Abruptly, Cassian moved his hand away.

Nesta’s snarl whipped around the room, but Cassian smoothed the sound away by fusing his mouth on hers. She stopped shaking but the sharp bite of Nesta’s glare pierced its teeth through his flesh in a flash of silver.

“It will be better if you wait,” Cassian gritted out in explanation when they parted. Nesta’s breath gusted against his skin. “And I don’t think I can hold on if you come so soon. You feel so good, Nesta. So tight.”

As if on cue, Nesta contracted around him and Cassian ground his teeth together so hard that the muscle in his jaw worked. But he let Nesta slide down on him another inch. Then another. And another. Until their hips were finally flush with one another and that pain had bled away until it was nothing.

The moaned words that fell from Nesta were indistinguishable, but he felt her tremor. Felt that surge inside of him as Nesta repeated herself with a whine that indicated she was toppling over the ledge of control, like a glass teetering before it fell.

And then she was moving and Cassian let her. He was unable to think or breathe. Could only focus on the feel of her.

“Fuck,” Cassian groaned. His head thunked back hard against the headboard as she ground her hips into his, testing the feel of him. “This is better than I’d dreamed.”

No soft snicker, only an untamed whine. Then teeth scraping a sinful path down his neck to his pulse.

Cassian’s hips kicked up hard as her teeth nipped.

“Sorry,” he gasped, because even though Nesta had told him not to hold back, he was still concerned about hurting her. But Nesta’s fingernails bit into his skin and her body moulded to him—a delicious second skin—as she inhaled sharply. “Again,” she demanded with a fierceness that did not allow disobedience. “Do that again—”

It didn’t take a second command for Cassian to thrust up hard. And true to her word, Nesta took him all. Did not change her mind and ask him to hold back. Instead, Cassian knew that this was exactly what she wanted—no, needed. She needed this punishing rhythm just as much as he did.

And it felt… incredible. Beyond anything Cassian had ever felt before. The blood roaring in his ears intermingled with Nesta’s cries and the slap of his hips meeting hers, was the only thing he could hear, his senses narrowed down to the sensation of her wrapped around him, so tight …

It was too good. It threatened to break him, to take everything that he was and reform it entirely, as if he was going to shatter and be pieced back together as someone else entirely. The air around them became taut with pressure, tanning leather stretched too tight over a rack, as if their joining controlled one of the essential elements.

“Cassian.” That one word threatened to break him. Not bat or it or you, only his name falling from her lips as if it was their secret. “More.”

Exhaling a curse, Cassian planted his feet firmly on the mattress and thrust up with as much vigour as he could muster. The movement had them slipping from their upright position and Cassian’s claws absent-mindedly closed around the metal bed frame, strapping them in for the ride as his body coiled and tensed as he slammed into her over and over.

Nesta cried out. Grabbed fistfuls of his hair as they moved together as if they had been made for this moment, their wild gasps melded together until they were one.

Only when release teetered too close to the edge did Cassian drop the rhythm. Cupped the breasts he had dreamed of more times than he could count. The breasts he’d had the privilege of seeing bare and glorious only twice before.

Capturing a nipple between his teeth, Cassian scraped his teeth hard enough that Nesta stopped rocking and angled her hips until he was pressing impossibly deep inside her. She whimpered. Clenched and unclenched. Throbbed in a way that told him she was as close as he was—that if he wasn’t so close himself, he could drive her over the edge with a few well-timed thrusts.

The understanding had him letting out a jagged groan. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

A whine in response, but Cassian didn’t let it go. He raked back the hair from her sweaty forehead. Pressed his lips to her swollen ones in a lingering kiss. Watched the frown that knitted her brow as she was overtaken by the feel of them.

“What do you need, Nesta. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

Nesta wound her hands around his head, buried her face into his neck. Began swaying and circling her hips in a rhythm that was dictated purely by the chase of pleasure. “Just… this,” she panted. “I just need this.”

Then it was only the licking fire of her breath against his skin. The magic that curled around them like a heated blanket and the building anticipation of both of their releases, which pulled at him like a strange sort of magnetism, begging him to fall with her in unison.

“Cassian—” Nesta began in warning, but he had already felt her begin to quake, as if the ground was moving beneath their feet—the mountains trembling.

That pull became a driving force—a cresting wave of pleasure so profound that Cassian felt that twist inside of him—that signal that he was about to join her.

He groaned, jerking his head back so it collided with wood, the pain grounding him enough that he could say, “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me.”

As soon as the words left his lips, Nesta broke, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask it of her. Her cry was muffled and Cassian wanted to tear her mouth from his neck—to hear her break for him—but then she was sinking her teeth into his skin right over his pulse.

Roaring, Cassian kicked his hips up hard on instinct as she marked him, but the shock distracted him. Clouded the desperate clamber of his release so he could hold himself back.

Cassian held tightly onto Nesta as she slumped against him. When she lifted her teeth from him, Nesta whined like an animal. Dragged her tongue over the dent she’d made in his neck—once, twice, three times.

He shuddered. Couldn’t help it. Turned his face into her hair. Breathed her in. The gesture was tender, like an animal tending to the wound of a significant other—its mate.

And wrapped in this moment, Cassian could almost believe that this was something more than sex for Nesta as her forehead came to rest on his collarbone. As she kissed the hollow of his throat. Then the knot. His lips.

“Good?” Cassian asked softly. He lifted a hand to her face, ran a calloused thumb over her cheekbone.

Nesta made a rare, content sound that vibrated through him like a balm. She leant into his hand, her eyelashes swooping down.

When she finally pulled back to survey him, her eyes were still dark. She shifted her hips. Moaned quietly. Rasped, “You’re still hard.”

It was a miracle Cassian hadn’t followed. If it hadn’t been for her teeth in his neck, Cassian would have been wrestling with the embarrassment of finishing too soon.

“I was too preoccupied with your teeth in my neck.”

A flush crept its way up Nesta’s face, like vines reaching their wicked encroaching fingers up a wall. But she raised her chin. “You wanted me to do it.”

It was true, he had wanted her to. And he wanted to do the same to her—to mark her as his so everyone would know that she was off limits for the brief hours before her body healed.

“And what about you?”

The patter of Nesta’s heart broke into a sprint. It was the only thing that betrayed her feelings, her expression devoid of any reaction. “What do you mean?”

Cassian leant forward until their noses brushed. Lifted his eyebrows. “Do you want me to bite you, Nesta?”

Nesta’s nostrils flared. If she had wings, they’d have flung wide by now. Would have collided with furniture and cut through air.

That was answer enough.

In one movement, Cassian lifted himself up and over, until Nesta was on her back and he was pressing her body into the mattress. Breath gushed out of her lungs but it was not from fear, not as Nesta turned herself out bare and tilted her chin for him—for once not in defiance but as an act of vulnerability—of complete and utter trust.

Every instinct in Cassian clambered to the surface, but he closed a fist around it until its life fluttered against the cage of his palms and fingers: his to control, rather than the other way around.

Slowly, Cassian lowered his nose to the exposed skin and breathed her in: her scent and the life that pummelled beneath her skin, the roaring of her blood as it crashed through her veins. It took everything in him not to move inside of her, to thrust up hard and feel the way her breasts would move against his chest.

“I could do it right here,” Cassian murmured, his mouth ghosting over the pale column of her neck until he came across that pulse. He brushed a tongue across it.

The movement was a mirror of what he’d done before in the human realm and Nesta knew it. But this time she did not jerk back from him demanding what he’d done. Instead, her body drew up beneath him, exposing more of her neck, begging for more.

Cassian groaned, raking his teeth over that swell at the same time that he pushed in deep. Nesta’s groan was guttural and everything. His blood turned molten, so hot that he expected his skin to melt away until he was nothing but bones.

“Please,” Nesta panted, her fingers tightening around his back.

Another flick of his tongue over her pulse. “Do you want me to bite you or fuck you?”

“Both.”

That was enough to loosen the fist on Cassian’s control. He sat back on his knees, prying her hands from his neck, coaxing her fingers until they were above her head and clasped around the railings of the headboard. Nesta’s breasts rose with the movement, her peaked nipples so tempting he bent to take one into his mouth. Then the other. Suckled until she mewled and her nipples were no longer rosy but red from his attention.

Cassian lifted his head and surveyed Nesta. Warned her, “Hold on tight.”

And then there was no thinking, no worrying or desperation to hold back. It all came as easy as breathing, their tempo,the snap of his hips and the shift of the mattress as her body shouldered the impact. At some point, Cassian’s body fell over hers, needing to feel every inch of her against him. His wild, punishing rhythm dropped into a rough rocking that was intimate at the same time it was claiming.

Nesta didn’t seem to mind—let out a pleased moan of consent, her legs clamping tighter around his hips until they were flush with hers. When he next moved she whined, and Cassian felt that change inside of her—somehow—that twisting fist of pleasure that glimmered down the bond, pushing against the walls of that thread, pushing it wider and wider, like a heart expanding.

Silver-wreathed fingers tugged his head down until Nesta could claim his mouth, fusing them together so they were complete. Cassian shuddered as her fire cascaded from her fingertips and down his body. His magic, attracted to hers, began to suck out of his pores, but it didn’t leech him of power. Instead, it was like his magic was searching for its mate, desperate to be reunited.

Then that sensation again, as if Cassian had ducked beneath something and had come up for air somewhere else.

Ruby greeted silver like a long-lost lover, blending until their magic was a metallic sheen of scarlet—a fog that misted their bodies, rubbing tantalisingly against their skin as they rocked and moaned their way to release.

“Don’t stop,” Nesta begged desperately through stuttered breaths, and Cassian wondered how many times she’d reached this pinnacle with other males only for it to be taken from her.

Cassian’s hand found its way to her face, his thumb stroking over her cheek as that coiled release twisted across her devastatingly beautiful face. “Can’t,” he panted honestly, his other hand searching for hers across the mattress until he was clasping it—holding on for dear life. “I’m so close, sweetheart. You have no idea how good you feel.”

“Come with me then,” Nesta pleaded. Her eyelashes had fluttered downwards as she took in a sharp breath of pleasure, but now they opened. Stared deep into his soul. “Come with me—”

Then her body turned both loose and taut, clamping yet completely molten as her release ripped out of her.

“Fuck,” Cassian swore. Invisible hands clasped around his ass, tugging him deeper—deeper. Everything in him tightened as Nesta crashed around him, and that siren called to him, singing her name, over and over as pleasure clawed at him, desperate to whip out of him.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

Cassian launched at her neck, his teeth sinking deep enough to claim as Nesta cried out, her body trembling as he continued to thrust into her, wringing out her release at the same time he desperately clambered towards his own.

He managed to pull out just in time, his teeth still deep in her neck, his release spilling hot onto her stomach in bursts of pleasure.

And even though Cassian had vowed to bite her and Nesta had already marked him, he found himself apologising at the red, angry dents in her skin. How was it that he couldn’t bare to hurt her but biting her neck was a completely different story?

“Sorry,” Cassian rasped. His mouth was as dry as a desert as he gingerly touched his fingers to the marks, but Nesta’s fingers clasped around his, halting him. Then she raised her other hand and brushed her knuckles over the identical marking on his. Reminding him that she’d done the same—had been the first to do it.

“I liked it,” Nesta admitted brazenly, but she didn’t stop him from dragging his tongue over the marks. Shivered instead. Held his head to her.

“That was intense,” Cassian rasped eventually against her ear, after the quiet had settled over them like a blanket. He nuzzled at her neck again, unable to help it—just one more precious moment like this until he had to pull away.

When Cassian pulled back to meet Nesta’s eyes, he found that the blue bled back into her irises. “It was always going to be intense,” she replied frankly.

Then Nesta looked down at her body, as if she’d only just remembered how he’d marked her in a different way. “You didn’t have to do that—pull out. I can take a tonic.”

Cassian hadn’t wanted to pull out at all—and neither had that tie which bound them together—but that wasn’t the point. “I’d rather be cautious,” he explained—a little too shortly, because Nesta bristled.

“Neither of us have had a tonic in a while,” Cassian elaborated when Nesta’s expression hardened.

He tried not to think about how his body had been desperate to spill inside of her. For him to press as deep as he possibly could until he was spent.

Climbing off of the bed, Cassian disappeared down the hallway and into the bathroom. When he returned, he was holding a wet towel.

“A while?” Nesta queried, picking up their conversation, as he began to clean her up.

Cassian cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t dare meet her eyes lest she read him. His shoulders turned rigid at the thought. “Have you been sneaking people in and out of the bungalow that I’m not aware of?” he asked.

They both knew that Cassian would tear any male she brought back to the bungalow to pieces, but neither of them voiced it.

“You go back to Velaris,” Nesta accused. “You visit the other camps.”

For a moment, Cassian stared at her. Did she believe that he’d been fucking other fae? She had taunted him in Velaris the other day, but Cassian had thought that it was just their extended, agonising tussle of foreplay.

Perhaps you should go in search of some female company tonight.

Cassian managed to huff a breath, but it wasn’t one of amusement. He knew that his expression was steely as he said, “I told you that I don’t sleep with Illyrians. And I haven’t been fucking around in Velaris.”

From the way Nesta’s expression darkened, Cassian wasn't sure she believed him.

She opened her mouth to throw back a retort, but Cassian wanted the discussion to end. If she knew he’d barely touched another female since he’d met her, she’d run the other way. It was too intense a confession for someone who didn’t know what they wanted.

“It was self-inflicted,” Cassian supplied, his tone flinty enough to warn her that he wasn’t willing to discuss the subject any further.

Climbing off of the bed to further his point, Cassian extended a hand towards her. Banished any of the rigidity to his posture. “Come stand in the tub with me.”

There was a sinful promise behind the order. Already Cassian could envisage how he’d press Nesta against the tiles, his lips trailing open mouthed kisses as he kneeled before her—

Nesta must have thought similarly, because the pleasure that sparked in his stomach was not his own. But still she studied him, her head cocked as if she was trying to figure him out. Her hair was a muss of golden brown, her skin glistening with sweat that Cassian wanted to lick off.

Nesta parted her lips, taking stock, but Cassian didn’t allow her to speak. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he vowed. Meant it. Because already he was turning hard again, that desire to have her roaring.

He’d known this would happen. Knew that finally being inside of her wouldn’t sate him but stoke the embers into flames. But Cassian didn’t hide it—utterly unashamed of this need for her. From the way Nesta’s nostrils billowed, he knew she'd marked the change in his scent.

Nesta’s eyes flicked to his cock and the she-devil smirked, her lips curving in a way that had Cassian thinking about how they might wrap around him—how her tongue might feel, how warm she’d be…

In one supple movement, Nesta stood. Took his hand, her slim fingers threading around his large ones. Raised her chin and levelled him with a smoky blue gaze that promised wicked, wonderful things. “Then lead the way, general.”

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#embersandlightfic #duskandstarlightwrites #nessian fic #nessianfanfic #nessian smut #acosf #acosf fanfic #acotar #acotar fanfic #sjmaas #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #morrigan #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #feyre #elain archeron #rhysand

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hlizr50 · 3 years

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The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 1

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The warmth of the sun wasn’t unwelcome. Azriel was the angel of death, wreathed in tendrils of darkness and mystery, but the summer sun was a balm to him. The light glittering off the stone of the training ring – the need to shield his eyes from the brightness – was a reminder that the Hewn City wasn’t his home, not his life. The light was a breath that whispered of life and potential.

He crossed his arms as he observed Cassian – brother in all senses of the word, save by birth. The sheen of sweat shimmered on his bare back as he paced around the ring observing the trainees, offering corrections verbally. And if that didn’t fix the errors he would ask permission to show them, to physically move their bodies to make the adjustment. That simple question was the reason so many more of the priestesses had chosen to join them in recent months.

Azriel scowled.

It was fucking disgusting that something so simple as consent was considered such a grand gesture. But it was a courtesy that hadn’t been granted to many of the females here.

It hadn’t been granted to her.

Gwyn.

His shadows danced over his shoulders at the mere thought of her. He needed to get that under control.

He had let his gaze slide to the priestess – the Valkyrie – too many times already. She glowed in the sunlight, even without the perspiration now dampening her face. It had reddened with her effort, but also from the many days they’d spent baking in the summer heat. The color suited her.

No matter how hard he tried, especially in the past two weeks, his attention always turned to her. She moved with such grace, her long legs strong and swift. The leathers fit her differently than they had a year ago – her body had changed. Lean cords of muscle had developed where nothing had been before. She had never been frail – he would ever use a word like that to describe her – but now she was…

Cauldron.

The Spymaster shook his head, willing his writhing shadows not to follow the dangerous path of his musings. He should not desire her. He didn’t deserve that bright spark that had begun to illuminate the male underneath the death and terror. He didn’t deserve her for the simple fact that death and terror and nightmares were what he was. But there was also the unspoken thing between them. The thing he’d done. The reason for the tension these past days and the reason he kept all of his leathers on under the blazing summer sun, relishing in the distraction of his discomfort.

Her eyes still haunted him.

The hurt that had dimmed Gwyn’s bright ocean gaze had nearly brought him to his knees.

Azriel hadn’t been party to the conversation, and he didn’t know how it had come about that Gwyn and Elain were both in the library, in the House, at the same time, in close enough proximity for Elain to notice the delicate necklace that hung from the priestess’ long, regal neck.

All of the satisfaction he had felt whenever he saw that gold chain tucked under her leathers or when she idly twisted the pendant in her fingers when she was reading… it disappeared when she had stormed through the dining room, desperate for the door, stopping short when she saw him there. His heart had cracked when he looked up at her.

Those beautiful eyes of hers, wide and glossy, swimming with hurt and anger. And embarrassment, further painted by her flushed cheeks, neck, further down. And still she had held that flower in her fingers, as if she couldn’t bear to let it go.

He didn’t get the time to register what must have happened. She scurried out the door, leaving a lingering breeze that smelled of water lilies and the salt of her tears.

The report he’d been reviewing slipped from his fingers and he made to go after her.

“Don’t you dare.”

It had been a long while since Azriel had felt intimidated, but Nesta’s voice had sounded to him much like he imagined his did when he was deep in the caverns of the Hewn City, pulling information from unwilling sources.

Cold. Measured.

Deadly.

Nesta’s eyes had all but glowed silver with her ire, even with her reduced power.

“What exactly were you trying to accomplish by giving Gwyn that necklace, Azriel?”

All he had done was stare back at her, unable to find his voice.

“Did you think she wouldn’t find out? Did you think about how it would make her feel when she did? That the treasure she hasn’t taken off for half a year wasn’t meant for her? That she was the afterthought when you couldn’t pursue the one you truly wanted?”

Nesta’s sharp words had opened a crater inside of him. That hadn’t been his intention, not in the slightest.

“That wasn’t my aim at all,” he had murmured. “I… would never want to do that.”

“Well that’s what happened, intentions be damned. Cauldron, Az, I know you didn’t want to hurt her. How could you be so fucking stupid?”

Nesta had left him then.

And he hadn’t spoken to Gwyn since that day, either.

But he still spied that thin gold chain around her neck.

Teal eyes snagged his gaze for a fleeting moment and a grin lifted her pink cheeks. Azriel only nodded and forced his attention elsewhere.

He had been avoiding her. It shamed him to admit it, shamed him even more to see her smile at him just like she had before. He had avoided her at night, as well. If he heard her in the training ring on those nights when darkness chased them both out of their beds he would retreat back into the house and go elsewhere. After all, he had other places he could go to work out some pain and aggression. He would not force Gwyn to relinquish the one safe space she had away from the Library.

He missed her, missed those nights where they understood each other without speaking, but bantered anyway. He missed sparring to the point of exhaustion so they could both find the rest they so desperately needed. He missed the nights where they didn’t train at all… when Gwyn just needed to breathe in the air and settle her mind and let the moonlit breeze dry her tears. Those nights she allowed him to just exist with her, silently support her. She’d trusted him enough to be there in those moments, to let him see beyond the vivacious young priestess with the irreverent humor and easy smile. She’d trusted him enough to let him see his darkness mirrored in her own.

He couldn’t imagine she would trust him with that now.

“Alright, ladies, that’s all for today.” Cassian’s voice broke him out of his reverie. “Take time to stretch and cool down. And hydrate. You’ve all been doing a lot of work out in this heat.” The training ring descended into female chatter and the sounds of clattering weapons being put away as the trainees were dismissed. Azriel saw the glint in his brother’s eyes and steeled himself as the general stalked up to him.

“You know, when I asked you to help with the Valkyries last year the expectation was that you actually train them, not do everything within your power to avoid a certain red-headed priestess.”

“I don’t know what –“

“Are you really going to try to lie to me, brother?” Cassian interrupted his automatic denial. “I can smell the tension on you. And you haven’t corrected anything she’s done in two weeks.”

“Maybe she doesn’t need it,” the shadowsinger ground out.

“Maybe she doesn’t, but that never stopped you before.” The Illyrian general gave him a wry smile and a wink. Azriel stared back at him, unamused at the insinuation – and the truth of it. His friend pursed his lips, the playful gleam in his eyes replaced with a softness that others wouldn’t match with the muscled male, the definition of a warrior. “You should just talk to her, Az. She’s not going to run away.”

“She should.”

“Az –“

“You didn’t see the look in her eyes that day, Cassian.” His voice was bitter and shredded as he returned his attention to Gwyn. Her smile gleamed as she laughed with Nesta and Emerie, copper locks riding the breeze. He felt Cassian’s broad hand fall on his shoulder.

“Brother.” Azriel turned back to him. “I may not have. But I know you, and I know Gwyn. So do you. She cares about her friends, and you are counted among them, at the very least.”

The Spymaster took a deep breath. Perhaps his brother was right.

“Nesta is worried about her,” Cassian murmured. “Says she’s happy but something is off. I can’t really tell, but I know better than to doubt her intuition.” The hand on Azriel’s shoulder squeezed once, then the general left him alone with his thoughts.

What could he say? How could he explain what he’d been thinking when he gave Clotho that necklace and asked her to give it to Gwyn? He had just wanted to make her smile without overwhelming her with his attention. Had she really never taken it off? And why was she still wearing it now?

Had he truly made her feel like an afterthought? Something second best? That guilt made his lungs burn as if he’d inhaled acid.

His thoughts were muddled as he surveyed the emptied training space. He could stand to work out the tension that had built over the training session, so he stepped in the direction of the small basket with long ribbons of material. The least he could do was wrap his hands before punching the padded wooden post into oblivion. At least he had that much sense.

His shadows whirled around him as the painfully familiar voice pierced the midday heat.

“So, are you ever going to speak to me again?”

Tag List: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch

#gwynriel #gwynriel fanfic #gwynriel fanfiction #gwyn x azriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #fanfiction #ao3

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gwynrielendgame · 3 years

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Gwyncien headcanon

Okay so my headcanon is that Lucien would try to be understanding about Elain and Azriel being together. The mating bond would be the only thing that would make him want to enact the blood duel but he would fight it cause he knows he isn’t owed Elain. Anyways this was the outcome of that.

Gwyn did not know why she was here. She told herself it was for Nesta, but she knew her friend would be occupied with her mate for most of the night. It was true torture to endure this night at the court of nightmares. She insisted that if she couldn't handle the court of nightmares there was no way she could handle the rest of the world. It was a test for herself. She couldn't tell if she were passing or failing though.

"Could definitely be worse." Gwyn whispered back. She tried not to stare. It only made her pathetic she told herself. Luckily though, no one was watching her too closely. No one knew that Azriel and Gwyn were mates which meant they weren't over analyzing the situation right along with Gwyn. When she had dreamt of finding a mate, she never imagined this. The way the bond could actually hurt Gwyn was almost too much to bear. No wonder mates never rejected each other. Gwyn had been so lost in her head, she hadn't noticed Lucien approaching her.

"You look beautiful tonight, Gwyn." The male gave her a shy smile before bowing. Gwyn frowned while looking down at herself. She was wearing her priestess robe with the hood pulled down to cover most of her face for once. She wasn't sure what he was playing at, but decided to play along. Anything to distract her from that wretched couple. Only then did it hit her that perhaps he was doing the same.

"Thank you. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Gwyn lifted her hood off her head and smiled at the red head. Similar in color to her own hair.

"I was hoping for a dance." He held out his hand. His smile turned more confident. He truly was handsome even with that terrible scar running down half his face.

"I don't know how to dance." Gwyn didn't want to make a fool of herself, especially when Azriel and Elain looked so graceful together.

"I'll lead. Don't worry. I won't do anything crazy." He sent her a smirk that told her he would, in fact, do something crazy.

"Okay." She found herself agreeing. Emerie sent her a wide look while nudging her. Gwyn sent a casual smile back. Lucien would never hurt Gwyn. She had over heard the story from Feyre herself. Lucien was one of few males who understood her pain.

He led her off to the floor and swept her into the ongoing waltz. He was close, closer than she had let any male before. Yet there was still a respectable distance between them for a dance. He kept his hand high on her back and she knew it would never veer from that spot. Her heart picked up out of conditioned fear. She took a deep breath to calm herself. He would not hurt her. They were slow and clumsy, but they were dancing which was surprising enough for Gwyn. She figured she would have stepped on his toes by now.

Azriel tried to ignore the mate bond as it tugged sharply. It didn't help that his shadows were angry about the situation as well. He kept making brief glances as his mate ineloquently danced along with the autumn lord. He knew Lucien was doing this on purpose. Azriel was unaware how the other male learned of his ties to Gwyn, but this was Lucien's payback for Elain and damn did it make Azriel feel guilty.

"What's wrong?" Elain spoke quietly. She glanced up at him through her lashes before focusing back on the dancing. She looked beautiful tonight, opting for red instead of black which he had to admit suited her much better. He hadn't told Elain that the mating bond snapped into place for Gwyn and him a little over two months ago. He didn't know how to tell her, although if anyone could understand, it was Elain.

"Just keeping surveillance." Azriel wished he had his shadows right now, so that they could keep track of Gwyn. Unfortunately, they still disappeared around Elain. He thought that had been a good thing. Now he wasn't so sure. "What is it like to watch Lucien dance with someone else?" He couldn't help but wonder if it felt the same for her as it did for him. He felt miserable yet had no right to be. Gwyn gave him an option. He just hadn't realized how insistent this bond would be.

"Uncomfortable." Elain decided after a long pause. "I don't really know him, so I should feel indifferent. But I can feel the bond tugging as though it's mad at me." He hadn't expected her to be so honest. He appreciated it anyways. Azriel did know Gwyn though. She was his friend which could be the reason the bond is much more painful than a mere uncomfort. He twirled Elain once more before she announced she was tired of dancing. They both retreated back to the dais where their friends were joking.

"It's not funny." Nesta groaned with a scowl gracing her face. Feyre, Rhys, and Mor were all laughing.

"What's not funny" Elain asked looking towards her oldest sister. Mor decided to answer when Nesta refused.

"It appears that the first man to pique the priestess's interest also happens to be the man that annoys the shit out of Nesta." Amren drawled after taking a seat. A bloom of anger rocked the bond so hard that Azriel's shadows came to life for a brief second before hiding again. The tight squeeze of Elain's hand into Azriel's let the Shadowsinger know that she felt the same way he did. It angered him to think that the first male to catch Gwyn's eye would be Lucien rather than him.

"It's not like that." Elain squashed any relationship theories right then. "Lucien wouldn't parade another female in front of me like that." While Elain's proclamation was true, it still made him frown. Perhaps Elain felt a little more than just uncomfortable seeing the pair dance. The rest of the group eyed Elain, but it was Feyre who came to Lucien’s defense.

"You refuse to talk to Lucien and are in a public relationship with our spymaster, Elain," Feyre was frowning as she spoke. "I think he can ask Gwyn, of all people, to dance with him." She finished by rolling her eyes at Elain. Azriel didn't like the insinuation Feyre made but kept it to himself all the same. The conversation quickly cut off as the group watched the pair end the dance with a bow.

"It sucks, doesn't it? Watching them be happy together?" Gwyn eyed Lucien. He couldn't know. Gwyn refused to tell anyone, mainly out of embarrassment. She supposed that didn't mean Azriel kept quiet though.

"I'm unsure I understand." She would play dumb for all it was worth. It made Lucien chuckle. He twirled her before pulling her back and continuing the conversation.

"I guessed you two were mates awhile ago. But you confirmed it for me tonight. You watch him like I watch Elain." He gave a sad smile before twirling her again. "I'm surprised he rejected you though. Azriel has been waiting more than 500 years for a mate."

"Not for A mate." Gwyn snapped. She couldn't control her rising anger. Not when it came to the mate bond. "He waited 500 years for the mate bond to snap in place with Mor and then Elain." She used her mind-stilling to calm herself. Lucien watched her intently with his one russet eye.

"He didn't technically reject me." Gwyn started the story she hadn't uttered to anyone before. "I knew he was still hung up on Elain though when the mate bond snapped into place. I told him I didn't want him to feel forced into this. So if he wanted to be with Elain, I wouldn't hold any resentment." Gwyn chuckled along with Lucien at that. The mate bond was not as forgiving. Gwyn hadn't realized how painful it would be to watch him with Elain when she uttered those words to him.

"The bond can be a fickle thing can't it?"

"Why didn't you challenge him to the blood fight? You had every reason to?" Gwyn couldn't stop herself from asking. She was glad he hadn't. It still didn't make sense to her though.

"Besides the fact that he would kill me and Elain would feel that pain? Would finally understand the true torture of the mating bond? Same reason you told him he could be with Elain. I don't want someone to be with me out of obligation." He twirled her once more and she was suddenly overcome with such sadness for the autumn lord. He deserved a mate that chose him. His eyes softened as they made eye contact again. Neither said a word for a solid minute.

“You are quick to underestimate yourself. Is that on purpose or do you truly believe you would lose?” Gwyn believed that at the very least, Lucien would put up one hell of a fight. He was raised by high lord Beron of all people, who was known for his cruelty. A sly smile quirked Lucien’s mouth.

“You’re the first to call me out on that.” It wasn’t technically an answer, but it told Gwyn all she needed to know. He allowed everyone to underestimate him. To believe he is only proficient in fighting. It should have made her nervous, but for some reason it had her laughing.

“I would love to see you kick Azriel’s ass.” It would be the kick to his ego that he needed quite honestly. Lucien laughed before a round of silence fell over them. Lucien was the first to break it.

"You could come with me. We call ourselves the band of exiles. It's just Jurian, Vassa, and I, but it would be better than watching their love story unfold." She was shocked by the invitation. She knew her face showed it as well. She knew she couldn't accept. At least not right now. She didn't want to leave Nesta and Emerie. She didn't want to stop her Valkarie training. The song was coming to an end and Gwyn knew that as soon as it did that this conversation would have to end with it.

"I have something I want to do." Lucien's brows furrowed in confusion, so she elaborated further. "I want revenge. But I'm not ready yet. Would this invitation still extend when I am ready?" Her voice was unsteady due to nerves. She hadn't mentioned her revenge plan to anyone before. A gleam entered Lucien's eye. He knew what she wanted and he would support her through it. The song ended causing Lucien to step away from Gwyn and bow once more.

"I'll be waiting." And then he was walking away. Gwyn floated back to the dais, to her spot by Emerie. She was so lost in her new plans, new plans that Lucien helped establish that she hadn't realized the entire inner circle staring at her. Including Elain and Azriel. Both had unreadable expression but both made her skin crawl uncomfortably. One of Azriel's shadows whipped out at her, barely grazing her wrist. It barely stung, but enough for Gwyn to know the shadows were upset with her. She frowned at them.

"What?" Redness rushed to her cheeks at the attention. She knew it wasn't good attention either.

"What was that about?" Nesta inclined her head to the dance floor. Gwyn didn't want to talk about it especially in front of the inner circle.

"He asked me to dance so I said yes." Gwyn shrugged as though it meant nothing. Truly the conversation had meant a lot to Gwyn. Finally being able to talk about it to someone lifted a weight that she hadn't known was there from her shoulders.

"Is that why you were making goo goo eyes at him?" Emerie teased while nudging her. Gwyn didn't see why this was being openly joked about. Azriel and Elain only went public with their relationship a month ago. Before then the entire inner circle was sure that this would cause war. Gwyn chanced a glance at Azriel, but his face gave nothing away. She looked to his shadows because she knew that those were much harder to control around her. Unfortunately the shadows had disappeared.

"Lucien is my friend." The words were colder than Gwyn had meant, but it turned the teasing air into awkward silence. Nesta and Emerie were searching Gwyn's face for any tells. They came up empty though. It was Rhysand to respond next.

"Sorry Gwyn. We weren't trying to imply anything." His words were kind but it only made Gwyn's face flame brighter. Of course they wouldn't imply anything like that with her. It reminded her of how they all see her. Trauma first. Person second.

She wondered if any of them, besides her two sisters, would ever look at her and see anything other than that day in Sangravah. She peeked a glance back at Lucien and saw him for what he could be. A fresh start. He knew about her experiences, but he wasn't there that day. He didn't see with his own eye what they had done to her. Perhaps Azriel's rejection was a blessing in disguise. Azriel himself had saved her that day. Maybe one look at her face and he found himself back in Sangravah, lifting her weak body into his arms. Before she could sink too far into the memories, she felt the mate bond being tugged at. Her eyes snapped to Azriel's where he was already staring softly back. It only fueled her anger though. She knew he had done it to pull her away from those memories but he had no right. He didn't get to use the mate bond unless he wanted to be with her.

"Stop looking at me like that." It was meant for Azriel, but applied to most of the group as well. Gwyn pulled her hood up and turned back to the dance floor. Her silent way of telling them to fuck off. She felt Emerie link their arms together. Nesta found herself on Gwyn's other side, grabbing her hand.

"I swear if you like Lucien I'll rip all my hair out." Nesta muttered in her ear. It had Gwyn laughing out loud. She gripped her friend's hand harder.

"I'd expect nothing less."

#gwyneth berdara #gwynriel #lucien #acotar #acosf #fanfic

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

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Home: Chapter Seven

azriel x reader (acotar)

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing,

word count: 3.9k

a/n: I’m entirely writing this to distract myself from the real world but honesty I’m having a great time, I think there will be one more chapter after this one and maybe an epilogue but asides from that, also feel free to message or ask if you want to be tagged :)) anyway enjoy and pls comment and shiz :)

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Azriel had once joked that you were like an actual flower, needing water and sunlight to use your powers. At the time you had laughed but now as you stood in front of the mirror, wiping the tears from under your eyes, and preparing to walk into the world of all things dead, you understood. The dress you wore was one of the few fancy ones you reserved for the dinners you were often dragged to before your fall. It was lavender, with tulle cascading down your legs from the waist, paired with a tight corset top and tulle off-the-shoulder sleeves. As you sat with a ‘humph’ and started applying your makeup, your stepbrother walked in.

“Well you look cheery,” Nico said, sitting on your bed.

“I look like an evil power puff girl,”

“You look like you are a princess, which you are so my dad is going to be pleased.”

“I really don’t care what he thinks,” you snapped, and Nico help up his hands. He was wearing all black as usual, simple dress pants and a loose black shirt tucked in, his belt matched his rings, and his dark hair and even darker eye bags made him look every bit the Underworld prince. “Sorry, I’m not mad at you,” you said turning back around to carry on with your makeup.

“I know, it’s stressful for you,” he moved to sit next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and you applied eyeliner.

“I don’t wanna get sick again, I have things to do. Plus I’ve got to convince your dad to let me ask for this favour. I just feel like it’s all going to go to shit.”

“I get it, you’ll be fine though. Also I’m pretty sure your mum is going to do anything for you if it means you’ll speak to her again, so she’ll be on your side at least. That’s three vs one.” He nudged you as you put down the eyeliner.

“That’s true.” You bit the inside of your lip and Nico, sensing your worry, changed topic.

“Tell me about Azriel,” He said, and you caught his eye in the mirror.

“Huh?”

“Well I gotta make sure that when you become his problem it will be permanent, I don’t want you coming back,” he joked.

“Fuck you,” you laughed shoving his shoulder and he giggled, rolling onto his back.

“I don’t want to do thisssss,” Nico said in a sing-song voice lying flat on the floor.

“Me neither but I’m not going in alone bitch,” you laughed, starting to feel slightly better. It was moments like this that made you regret pushing your friends away, the thought of seeing them was always scary but when you were with your brother again you remembered why you loved them so much. You assessed your outfit in the mirror and sighed.

“What?” Nico asked, sitting back up.

“This would look really nice with a dark red lip,” you said, biting your lip.

“Do you have one?” he asked, and you nodded. He was quiet for a second before reaching out and ruffling through your makeup, finding your favourite red lipstick. “Do you wanna try?”

“Yeah, but if I cry it’ll mess up my eyeliner.” You said with a shaky laugh. He laughed quietly handing you the lipstick and you looked at him in the mirror, taking in a shuddering breath. You were stronger than this and you could handle it. You closed your eyes for a minute, counting your breaths, before opening the lipstick.

Once it was applied you lifted your chin, staring down the girl in the mirror. Nico grabbed your hand softly and you tore your eyes away, standing and pulling on your shoes.

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Azriel was in a shit mood. He was 90% sure that you had cast some sort of spell on him when he was with you, something that made him happy and relaxed, because now that you weren’t here he pretty much wanted to throttle everyone.

Amren had been helping him look for a way to get back to you. The first thing they had tried was winnowing, he pictured your face; your smile, the way your hands felt in his, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t reach you. So they had been scanning books since then, reading up on every theory and myth. Nesta had brought him to speak to Gwyn who had told him about the theory that there could be up to at least 20 other worlds. Amren had also made him talk through every detail about this world he could remember, writing diligent notes as Cassian gave him weird looks when he spoke about Bucky Barnes.

“He’s a character, it’s a simple concept.”

“Yeah but how do you get an emotional connection to a character?”

“Shut up both of you.”

The pain in his chest was only growing as well, and he came to the daunting realisation that if he failed this; if he couldn’t get back to you, or get you back to him, he would probably have to deal with it for the rest of his long, long life.

He felt bad for taking his frustrations out on his family who were just worried about him, but he had never felt this way before. All he could think of was the way your eyes cleared when the realisation dawned on you. The way you had gone from sobs to a different, all-consuming kind of pain, just for a second, your eyes clearing as you realised you might never see him again. He hated himself for not being strong enough to put up a fight, he knew he wasn’t a match for a god, but he should’ve tried, he was too shocked at the time, too heartbroken, but now he was terrified that you might think he gave up on you. He had to get back to you, he was afraid what you might do if you were alone again. If you were alone after having the bond dangled in front of you, only to have it ripped away moments later.

It was almost 3am and everyone else in the house had gone to bed, but Azriel didn’t sleep well normally, and he especially wouldn’t while he was apart from you. He looked up from his book when he heard someone clear their throat, his head whipped up an incredulous smile gracing his features when he saw you sitting there.

“Baby,” he started moving forward but you held your hand up, stopping him.

“Oh that’s just too sweet, you kids are giving me so much content,” you dabbed at your eyes, and Azriel frowned.

“(y/n)? what’s going on?”

“Oh I’m not (y/n) sweetie, but that’s just adorable. My name is Aphrodite, Goddess of love and beauty, I often appear as whoever you find most beautiful.” Azriel’s heart dropped, the brief happiness he felt seeing your face gone as the lady spoke.

“Aphrodite? Hermes mentioned you.” He said, tensing as he realised he was dealing with another god. “In fact he said it was your fault this all happened.”

“Oh Hermes, always blaming someone else. You should be thanking me.”

“And why would I do that.” Azriel knew the look on his face was deadly, but something about seeing a god cower under his gaze was feeding his ego.

“Haven’t you worked out why you can’t travel back to her.” She raised her eyebrows at him, her expressions may be on your face, but as he paid more attention she seemed like a completely different person. “I have the power to move through world’s, you do not. I just thought that poor, sweet girl had been through enough that she should get to meet her soulmate. I waited for you after your mission and then just made you forget and let the two of you fall in love naturally, I mean I get teary eyed thinking about it, you’re just too cute!”

Azriel’s shoulders relaxed slightly, “So why are you here? Are you going to bring her to me?”

“Hmm I could, but I’d get in so much trouble, plus she’s very smart and I want to see if her plan works. You people are so very entertaining.” Her face rippled for a second as she turned, and she briefly looked like Mor, then Elain, then back to you. “But you, poor boy,” He chose to ignore the condescending tone, “You were dealt a very bad hand love wise, so maybe if she doesn’t succeed I could pull a few strings, but I do have a holiday planned so it may be a few decades.”

Her laugh made him feel sick and he glared at her, “What did you say about her plan?”

“Oh yes! She’s going down to the underworld to try find a solution,” Aphrodite was moving around the room gracefully as Azriel sat back down, the weight of Aphrodite’s easy words hitting him. She picked up one of the books laying on the desk and made an unimpressed noise, throwing it back down carelessly.

“That’s where the dead go right?” he asked, silently praying he was wrong,

“Yup! Don’t worry though, her mother lives there too,” she said ‘mother’ with a slight snarl, but Azriel ignored her. “You know I get why she likes you, you’re very pretty aren’t you?” She walked over to him, swaying your hips and he had to remind himself it wasn’t you as she sat down in his lap, forcing his hands to stay clenched at his side. She ran your hand along his jaw, tilting her head with a smile as she stroked his face. Her thumb rested on his bottom lip as he glared at her with murderous rage, trying to reel it in as he remembered she was possibly the only one that could help him.

“Well I guess I better go,” She sighed dramatically then pressed a perfectly polished gold coin into his hand, “Flip this if you need me, emergencies and sex only.” She winked at him, before kissing his cheek and standing, waving seductively before vanishing. Azriel sat for a few minutes, reeling from the interaction he just had. Is this the world I’ve entered now? Gods who can do whatever they want? He wondered if that’s why you avoided talking about the Gods, if maybe growing up with this had made you bitter to them. He wanted to ask you and talk to you about it, or anything for that matter but instead he just pocketed the coin and stood, winnowing to his room, and collapsing on his bed.

“Sweetie, you look beautiful,” Your mother cried out as you and Nico arrived, you were leaning heavily on his arm, while surrounded by death, the coldness of a lifeless place seeped into your bones and weakened you, you had learnt as much the first time you visited. You gave your mother a tight-lipped smile and hugged her awkwardly.

“Oh I missed you so much dear,” she stroked your hair, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“You could’ve visited.” It was hard to keep the bitterness out of your voice, after all you had gone through and she hadn’t visited once. A look of shock passed over her face but before she could reply Hades thundered in, his usual outfit, ‘the robes of death and despair’ as you fondly called them, were replaced by a dark suit, his hair slicked back from his face. He came to Persephone’s side and rested a hand around her waist pulling her in slightly, and despite yourself you felt a little jealous of their closeness as your mother looked up at him with doe eyes.

“Nico, my son, how are you?” Hades deep voice silenced the room, the very air seeming to stand still, and Nico flushed red as he was put on the spot. The four of you exchanged pleasantries as you made your way to the ridiculously long table, Hades sat at the head on one side, Persephone on the other, with Nico and you facing each other in the centre. The wood was dark, but the table was covered in all sorts of colourful food and you all helped yourselves while making small talk, only managing to hear your parents due to the eery silence of the room, dead guards not needing to make any noise.

After the first few courses and once you had consumed enough white wine to gain some courage you turned to face your mother.

“Mum, I think I need a favour if that’s okay?” you asked with great caution, extremely aware of the powerful forces surrounding you.

“Well that depends dear. What is it?”

“After the battle and the… fall, I never got my reward remember, I instead asked to be able to come get it when I needed it.”

“Yes of course, I thought that was very smart!” your mother spoke cheerfully but you could feel Hades’ gaze on your back, burning through your skin and bones to the very essence of your soul. “Let me guess, you need it now?”

“If that’s okay, some things have changed recently and I now know what I need,” you smiled at her, “I met a man, well actually he’s a faerie. Aphrodite wanted us to meet because we’re soulmates and after my fall she thought I deserved to see him, but since he’s from another world he had to go back, and we can’t be together.” You wiped away a few stray tears you forced out; this was your game. Your mother didn’t visit you often so she had never seen this side of you, the side that could manipulate even a god into giving you what you wanted. “So I thought, maybe for my reward I could become Fae and be permitted to live with Azriel in his world, and maybe come and visit my friends occasionally?”

“Oh that sounds lovely dear! That’s so alike me, I had to beg my mother and even then she didn’t let me stay here,” your mother rattled on and you smiled at her, but your shoulders were still tense as you knew you hadn’t won yet. You turned to where Hades sat, rubbing his temples.

“I get it. I do. But I really don’t think my brother would allow that, it’s too much.”

“Too much?” you asked, a bitter laugh escaping.

“I understand you went through a lot,”

“Do you?” you couldn’t stop the biting words, “Because the last I checked you both sat and did nothing while I was tortured down there. You could’ve done something, but you didn’t, you made a choice not to, and now I ask for ONE thing, and it’s too much?” Hades’ glare was murderous, but you weren’t going to back down.

“I mean if you really think about it, I’ll be out of your hair if you agree. One less demi-god always seems to be a win for you guys.” Nico said your name in warning, but you slowly stood. “I am not asking for much, I am asking to be allowed to live a life with the man I love and after all I have been through, fighting YOUR battles, I think it’s the least I deserve.”

You held Hades’ gaze for a few more seconds until he spoke. “Are you sure your not a child of Nyx?” he asked, and you grinned, cocking your head to the side.

“Why would that be?”

“You have a pure evil streak in you girl and uncharted power. You better learn to control it, before someone catches on.”

“We won’t have a problem I’m presuming?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said gruffly, going back to his meal and you relaxed, moving to hug your mother goodbye, whispering thanks to her, before linking arms with Nico and leaving.

The next day you awoke to a golden invitation to Olympus, and you smiled, soon. You’d be with him soon.

Olympus looked much nicer since Annabeth had gotten involved. You may have been biased but it seemed to hold a sense of home it never had before, the clinical cleanliness now feeling purer and more loving. The throne room however had remained much the same.

You stood alone in the middle surrounded by the arc of thrones, but you refused to take your eyes of Zeus. You had received a wink from Apollo and a smile from Aphrodite as you walked in but beside that it had been eye contact for at least five minutes. You knew better to speak before you were spoken to but the way they surrounded you and stared down on you was bringing up bad memories and you were really fighting a panic attack.

Seemingly sensing this Apollo cleared his throat, “Perhaps we should start father?” While you were grateful a part of you hated how well the flirtatious god knew you, he was the first to tend to your wounds when you first escaped, healing them enough so you wouldn’t die from blood loss but not enough for anyone to suggest he was picking favourites. His warm hands had provided a sense of comfort you thought you had lost entirely.

Zeus nodded slowly, a letter appearing in his hand, “So these are your terms? Transformation into high Fae, permission to live in a new world with visits back to this one twice a year?” you presumed Hades, or your mother had written the letter, neither of them present currently. You nodded clearly, not entirely trusting your voice.

“I guess it’s only fair, but a full transformation will hurt,”

“I’m sure I can take it.” you lifted your chin, holding your shaking hands tightly in an attempt to conceal them.

Zeus laughed, not taking his eyes of you, “I’m sure you can. Does anyone have any major oppositions?”

Aphrodite raised her hand, “I’d like to add that during her transformation, her womb changes shape so she may birth Illyrian children.” You shot her a grateful look, still not entirely sure why she was suddenly so invested in ensuring your happiness, but you wouldn’t complain.

Hera was the next to speak and you fought the urge to roll your eyes, “Why is she getting special treatment again? What did she do that was so different?”

“She was tortured for days!” Athena exclaimed,

“So?” Ares now.

“She was a child, it was brutal.” Apollo jumped to your aid and soon the chamber was filled with shouting voices as they argued over your fate.

“SILENCE.” Zeus quieted the room instantly and every eye turned to him, but he remained focused on you, “Well then? Answer the question girl, what makes you so special?”

You thought for a second before answering, “I don’t consider it special treatment. After the battles I’ve fought and the pain I’ve endured to help your causes, I’d consider it a form of retirement.” You kept Zeus’ gaze and let a streak of the evil Hades had warned you off show, smiling when his smug smile disappeared. He waved his hand, “Very well then, High Fae with altered womb and permission to live in their world and visit our occasionally, that is all?”

You nodded and he assessed you before holding out his hand, his gaze darkening. You furrowed your eyebrows as your limbs started to tingle before pain took over your entire body.

You had felt pain so many times before, pain that left more than just physical trauma, but this was different. You felt as if your blood had become fire and every bone was breaking as new ones reformed. You didn’t have any sense of time or place, all you could feel was pain. At one point you thought it was over only to open your eyes, feeling impossibly soft sheets beneath you, and see Apollo hovering over you, sweat dripping from his brow as he took some of the pain away, even for just a moment.

When you finally awoke you were on the ground. You stood up quickly, almost knocking yourself over as your movement were much faster than usual. You were outside a glowing city, it didn’t have skyscrapers like New York, but it was so comforting to look at you felt yourself being drawn in. As you crossed the border however, a beautiful man with dark hair appeared, his eyes narrowing.

“Who are you and why are you trying to get in here?” A shot of fear went through you as you felt his magic, it was thick in the air and powerful.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone, I’m just looking for someone,” you explained, swallowing down the lump in your throat. The handsome man’s gaze turned vacant before softening after a moment.

“I apologise, I’m Rhysand. Let me help you find whoever it is, what’s their name?”

“That’s okay, really. His name is Azriel, but I don’t think he’s expecting me.” Rhysand stopped, his head turning towards you, “what is it?” you asked.

“(y/n)?”

“How do you know my name?” you stepped back but he held out his hands,

“No, no I’m Az’s brother, let me take you to him.” he grabbed your arm softly and suddenly you were standing in a warm room facing Azriel. You felt tears fill your eyes as you stared at him, he uttered your name in question and you nodded running into his arms, completely engulfed by his scent, tears of joy running down your face when you suddenly realised something, pulling away.

“Did you say brother?” you turned to Rhysand, feeling all the plants in the air respond to your calls, when Azriel tugged you back to him.

“Not biological don’t worry.” He whispered and Rhysand laughed.

“I like her.”

“Hmm I was two seconds away from castrating you,” His eyes widened slightly and you laughed, turning back to Azriel as he looked over you.

“How- you, you’re Fae?” His eyes were filled with worry again, afraid he was being tricked.

“I never got my reward remember, I knew I would need it in the future,” you smiled at him as he cupped your face and leaned down to kiss you. You pulled apart, Azriel growling when you heard catcalls, turning, and seeing the room had practically filled. A shot of fear went through you as your eyes landed on another man who had red siphons, and Azriel followed your gaze, a hand stroking your face in reassurance.

“So this must be (y/n), welcome to our home, I’m Feyre,” A beautiful woman stepped forward and clasped your hand in hers, which you noted were stained from paint. Everyone else soon made introductions and they urged you to sit as you found out about this makeshift family Azriel was in.

“Oh! That’ll be Nyx, I’ll go,” Feyre said when a baby started crying in the distance,

“Wait what did she say the babies name was?” You asked, holding in a laugh.

“Nyx?” Rhys said,

“Oh, course, cool cool cool,”

“What?” Azriel asked, looking at you strangely.

“I’ve kind of met her,”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, she’s like the evilest deity there is, and she did not like me,” Rhysand stared at you with a look of shock on his face, but before anyone said anything else, Amren was laughing loudly.

“You must tell me all about these Gods girl.”

--------------------------------------------------

tags: @tastedlikedamnation

#acotar #acowar #acofs #acomaf #acofas #Azriel #azriel x reader #percyjackson #Heroes of Olympus

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gwyns · 4 years

Note

what would be your ideal elucien arc in canon?

this is a very good question and one i'll probably ramble with so sorry lmao i actually thought about an elucien plot a lot years ago. i had quite a few ideas and was trying to plot my own multi-chapter fic around them but well..... that didn't work out and this ended up getting really long, so i apologize for that lol

so here's the overall gist of what would've/what i would like to eventually happen one day. elain had a vision of lucien being harmed or something along those lines and her instinct had her finding him. whether this was through her learning she could winnow or some other means, i hadn't decided but eventually she'd show up and lucien would be so dumbfounded and question her reason for being there and ask if feyre knew she was here and elain would get defensive like "i didn't realize she was my keeper." and this is the first time lucien has truly seen her bite, her little bit of fire, so he's taken aback a bit but quickly reassures her she needs no keeper and he hadn't meant offense.

she gives an excuse about how she wants to see prythian and that nobody would show her so she decided to show herself, bc she doesn't want to admit she cares for him, even a fraction bc it might give him hope that she ultimately would have to crush. and it's not entirely a lie, she would like to travel and see the world, but it's not the whole truth either.

so moving on they'd partner up and he'd bring elain along on whatever adventures he's getting up to, they'd meet up with jurian and vassa of course and i have this headcanon that she and vassa would be the perfect friends. vassa is human so she'd offer elain something familiar you know? and vassa is also the type to stand her ground and she has a fire of her own so i feel like she'd help elain grow into herself and be more assertive and stroke the fire within elain some. as for elain and jurian.... it's awkward at first bc jurian is partially responsible for elain's turn (at least in her head) and he was there when graysen rejected her and so she overall has had bad experiences when he's around so she doesn't know what to make of him.

over time she comes to find that jurian isn't as intimidating as he first lets on. he's quite considerate and good at reading people, and he knows to some extent what she's gone through (as does vassa), he was tortured and killed by amarantha then bound to her jewelry for 500 years. he understands the feeling of violation and having a fae treat you as some toy and little more, and he apologizes for his part in her trauma. after this, i can see him becoming something of a big brother type to elain, they have a relationship few would understand but they listen to each other's troubles and just get it you know?

anyway, back to her and lucien. i can see them both being kind of reluctant in the beginning? elain bc she doesn't want to give him any ideas and lucien doesn't know want to pressure her so he keeps his distance but as they're working together, with the spring court, koschei, her learning more about her abilities, etc they both start to see how capable they each are and their feelings start to show here. for lucien it's more natural, like he always had a feeling that if he spent enough time with elain he could fall in love with her but with elain? she's freaked out. she doesn't want this, she wants her ability to choose. and maybe it's just the mating bond reacting for her or at least this is what she tells herself to explain away the butterflies she gets whenever lucien smiles at something she said.

at some point they have to travel to the autumn court and lucien is terrified, he doesn't want her anywhere near his family but elain asserts herself and says she's coming whether he likes it or not. he, of course, doesn't object. he just pleads with her to stay close to him the entire time. during their visit(s) they meet with eris and lucien's mother and you don't understand how badly i want elain and his mother to have a good relationship. her own mother only saw her as beautiful and something to capture a titled man to advance their status, she didn't truly see elain either. lady vanserra would be the kind and caring mother she never had and then being close would allow elain to learn more about lucien without asking him directly.

and her and eris? he'd take on the protective older brother role for elain, he would make sure no one even breathed near her unless she wished it so. maybe he'd introduce her to his dogs or something, too.

i can't get into specifics of what would really happen during these visits bc my brain sucks but overall it'd allow elain to learn more of lucien's upbringing and begin to understand him and in turn lucien would learn more about elain's childhood when she'd discuss her mother with lady vanserra.

maybe after this they visit the day court or something so they can view helion's massive library and try to learn more of koschei and elain's powers. they'd bond while studying, it'd start as courteous conversation but it'd soon develop into more intimate questions. maybe she asks about jesminda, who she'd learned some about from feyre and some from the servants in the autumn court, he'd answer her questions but never offer anything more than what he had to. she can tell her death still weighs heavily on him. this is when she really starts paying attention to what exactly she feels through the mate bond, tremendous guilt and, as feyre once described, he's endlessly sad.

this is where things get kinda fuzzy for me bc i never knew how this story would end, like i knew the koschei conflict would be the finale but other than that? nothing lmao but basically i could see elain and lucien growing together very slowly. they start getting comfortable with the faint touches and lingering glances they give each other. it eventually leads to a dark night in the camp and elain can't sleep so she gets up to take a walk but her feet just lead her to wherever lucien is and she sees him without his shirt on, his back is turned to her and she sees the massive scars across his back and can't stop the soft gasp that escapes.

lucien whirls around but elain can't get the image out of her head... who would have been so cruel as to cause those marks? who would dare to touch her mate like that? she knows she should be more worried about how possessive the mate bond makes her, but in this moment it doesn't matter, what matters is who hurt him. and she asks as much, "it's nothing, elain" is his response but she doesn't let up, she steps closer to him and motions for him to turn around, which he does. she hesitantly runs her fingers across his scars, she can feel her rage building, no matter how irrational it is she wants whoever did this dead. she blinks at that thought, but she's not scared no, she wants whoever caused him pain to suffer.

he tells her not to worry and that it's already been taken care of and she reluctantly leaves him to go back to her own tent (or wherever they're sleeping) and tries to sleep but everytime she closes her eyes the image of his scars, how he might have received them, flashes in her mind. then she starts to wonder who gave him the scar on his face, she wonders how she might find out and how she might get the means to return the favor.

also maybe at some point later in the story, they visit the autumn court again, i have a headcanon that elain doesn't only see the future, she can see the past in some cases so maybe she starts seeing this couple in a.... very intimate setting. and she works out the female is lucien's mother, but the male she's with is definitely not beron. this could prompt the helion reveal but honestly idk how that'd all go down.

i really can't tell you how this would all wrap up bc i am so bad at plotting but eventually they meet koschei, they defeat him and there's a scene where they embrace and the confessions come, it starts with lucien,

"i love you. so much. and i choose you. i'd choose you in a hundred–in a thousand different lifetimes."

"do you mean that?"

"i've never meant anything more."

elain brings her hands to his face, caressing his cheeks, then she moves to trace the scar on his face.

she finally says, "i choose you, too, lucien. i love you. now, kiss me... please."

they have the kiss we've all waited 5 books for. she accepts the bond and we all live happily ever after.

#IM BAD AT THIS OK #but i want an elucien book so badly 😭#acotar #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien #asks #acotars #long post

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luverofralts · 3 years

Text

Post Arkhelios

The cards were saying nothing intelligible to Roman. He had been stuck for almost a week now in Arkhelios, pretending to be unable to leave his house. He was pretty sure that his mom was buying it, though his grandmother had given him some sideways looks when he stepped half an inch off the porch. She noticed everything, and what she didn’t see for herself, she claimed the cards told her.

Roman was getting a little better at reading the tarot cards, but nothing really popped up but death, death and more death. Malika had assured him that the death card was usually just a warning of endings and change, but seeing it pop back up again and again was wearing thin on his nerves. Who was in danger now? Were the cards warning him of his death, or Abe’s or even that of their baby?

It made matters even worse that the cards never mentioned a baby in his readings, something Malika said was unfortunate, but not unexpected. Those types of things happened all the time. If Adriel had been right about him, and he was actually related to a demon, his major suspicion was that Malika was the branch of the family tree it had come from. Who said things like that to their grandson? Fortunately for his sanity, Malika was in the middle of a seance and was safely out of range for Roman to hear her grating voice.

He broke his concentration on the cards when a small buzzing went off across the table. Malika had left her phone there to prepare to “channel the dead” or whatever it was she really did, finally giving Roman access to the internet. It was a super old flip phone, and he couldn't log into any of his accounts, but just being near modern technology was a welcome break from card reading.

He looked at the text message that had just come in. Snooping was only fair for imprisoning him for weeks. It was a text from Melvin Hydes. Roman opened the text and nearly dropped the phone in shock.

Malika

Abe Chun has lost the baby and is in serious condition. Air lifting him to a different hospital now. Elaine and family en route as well. Please meet me before I leave in Factory Park in about twenty minutes. I will tell you more in person. Don’t tell Roman until we know more about the situation, I don’t want to inflame the situation until Abe is stable.

Roman felt like the room was spinning all of a sudden, and he was losing control of his lungs. Abe lost the baby? Abe was being airlifted somewhere? The death card mocked him on the table, and Roman was certain that he was dying himself the way his senses were failing him. He had to go to Factory Park and meet with Melvin, or at the very least overhear what he would tell Malika. Who had been planning on telling him about Abe? Would they have just let his grandparents tell him while smugly telling him that they had been right all along about the message from the cards? Was he going to miss what could be Abe’s last moments because their parents were constantly fighting?

Roman checked to make sure he was alone before jumping. Salem was snoring on the living room couch, and he could hear Kamalani’s pottery wheel spinning. He wouldn’t be noticed for a while, especially since Malika was still doing her seance, and it could be some time before she saw her message.

Hold on Abe, I’m coming.

Factory Park was always dark at night when the factories shut down, but it seemed even darker now with the news about Abe and the memories of Kaeileen’s recent death. She had loved this stupid park, and now she was dead. Like Abe could soon be dead.

He took a seat on the bench and waited for Melvin to arrive. Why bother hiding like he’d initially planned? He needed answers about Abe and the baby and Malika was never going to share those with him. Lucy must be terrified right now, both her and her mother. Roman wondered if anyone was planning on telling Ian the news. He had a right to know too, even if he was...strange and unpleasant at the moment.

Oh Abe....

Roman tried to grapple with the idea that he was no longer going to be a father. This pregnancy wasn’t something he had planned for, but so much had happened to him since he found out about it. He had a storage locker full of baby things from Pleasantview that he had no idea what to do with, but that was nothing compared with the crippling sense of loss he felt. He had grown excited to be a dad, to be out of the closet living with Abe, but what would happen now?

What would he do if Abe didn’t pull through? Roman wished that the text message had been more specific, but maybe that’s why Melvin had wanted to meet in person. Hearing bad news via text usually made things worse. What had even happened? Adam was supposedly worried about Abe enough that he hadn’t been able to fly to Pleasantview, but was it something so severe that his life was in danger?

Roman could hear footsteps coming towards him, and he stood to greet the person approaching.

It wasn’t Melvin that approached him.

“What are you-” Roman started a sentence, then realized what was truly happening here. A different sort of panic now washed over him. “Abe isn’t really hurt, is he? This is a trap.”

You’re so stupid Roman! Why would Melvin be texting your grandmother about a medical emergency? Especially one that required a meeting in Murder Park late at night?

The figure nodded slowly. “For now,” it said. “But his turn is next, don’t worry. You’ll be together again soon enough.”

Roman gulped as the figure produced a gun from their jacket.

I’m going to die. Oh my god, this is where I actually die.

“Why are you doing thi-”

An echoing bang cut through the air, and Roman collapsed on the ground, slumped not too far from where Abraham’s body had been found. Roman could hear footsteps on the sidewalk as the figure left the scene. No, as his killer left the scene.

Blood was quickly pouring out of the wound on his chest, and Roman closed his eyes and tried to move through the pain. It was no use, he wasn’t going anywhere.

I wonder if they will have to bulldoze this stupid park now that there have been two murders here.

He was starting to feel drowsy and light headed from the blood loss.

Abe, please don’t forget me. Be smarter than I was and leave this cursed place while you still can.

#ts2 #sims 2 #arkhelios #post arkhelios #tw: blood #tw: death #sims 2 pictures #Roman Bellamy

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

Text

Naughty Neighbors pt. 6 (Elriel)

LAST PART!! Thank you for reading this far and for all the love/comments. I honestly didn’t know Elriel was this popular which is why I hadn’t written much before now. Any particular ships y’all want next?

______________________________________________________________

~Elain~

Hearing the bell to the shop door clink, she walks out of the storage room and calls out, “We’re closed!”

“Hi, Elain.”

Elain stops dead in her tracts, because she recognizes that voice. And the woman it belongs to.

It’s the woman from Azriel’s apartment... the one he loves.

“Um, hi.”

“I’m Mor. Azriel asked me to come talk to you.”

“I don’t see why,” she responds drily.

The woman shakes her head, ruffling the golden curls hanging around her perfect face. “Because everything he told you was true.”

Elain sighs and reaches to grab her keys. “Listen, I’m sure you’re nice, but you don’t need to lie for him.”

“I’m not lying. I went to his place a few weeks ago, but nothing happened. I kissed him in the hall because I knew you’d be watching. All of it was my idea.”

Hope starts to blossom, but she stomps on it with a steel-toed boot. “I don’t really believe you. No offense.”

She smiles, and the pain in her chest gets worse at how pretty it is. “He was right. You’re adorably sweet.”

Elain blushes, and Mor laughs. “Anyway. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. He’s my best friend, but it’s never been romantic between us. I mean, we faked a relationship in high school before I came out, but-.”

Before I came out.

Wait.

“You’re gay?” Elain practically explodes.

She tilts her head. “Azriel said he told you that.”

“I didn’t believe him! I thought he was just covering his ass. Oh, gods, he was telling the truth? You’re... but that would mean...”

Mor raises a perfectly groomed brow. “I’ve never had sex with him. The thought makes me kind of nauseous, actually. I’m sure he feels the same way.”

Grasping straws at this point, she says quietly, “But... but I saw you kiss each other. It didn’t look fake.”

“Like I said, we fake-dated for four years so my parents wouldn’t catch onto the fact that I was dating a girl.” She laughs. “We got good at faking it.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Elain says honestly.

Mor smiles kindly. “He also wanted me to tell you that he didn’t laugh because you kissed him. He laughed at my very happy reaction to the news. And he did say he wants you to love him before things go further, but he was joking about tricking you into it.”

The flowers around her blur as she realizes that everything she’d been worried about was a misunderstanding.

She’d thought he’d been making fun of her and only pursuing her because she was unavailable. That he’d laughed about her wanting him, that he hadn’t wanted her back.

She’s spent two weeks being miserable, and it was all because she didn’t just tell him what he “did.”

And the way she’d treated him...

“Azriel... I’ve never seen him like he is with you. When he first told me about you, he couldn’t stop smiling. He doesn’t love easily, so I knew you had to be special.”

Closing her eyes, she thinks about all the awful things she said and called him.

Special.

Gods.

“Elain, you’ve really changed him. I don’t know how it happened so fast, but... before you, he’d never mentioned a girl to me. He loves you.”

“Not after what I said,” she whispers back, everything coming back to her in a rush.

“Oh, honey, you’re wrong about that.” Mor comes around the counter and wraps her arms around Elain gently. “He knows you didn’t mean any of it. And he feels awful for messing with you in the first place. He just wants you to believe him.”

“I do,” she says honestly. “It all just sounded...”

“Like the most ridiculous thing you’d ever heard? Yeah, I figured. So did he. That’s why he asked me to come.”

Elain wiped her eyes, surprised to see they were damp. “I’m glad you did. It was nice meeting you, even under the circumstances.”

“It was nice meeting you, too, Elain. Azriel’s lucky to have you in his life. And you’ll see me again. We’re going to be good friends, I think.”

She laughs but nodded. “Okay.”

“He told me not to ask, but I have to know... did you really throw up when you saw him this week?”

Elain’s nose wrinkles as she remembers the only time she’d seen him. He was outside the tattoo shop and had paused and looked at her with such unguarded hope and raw emotion she couldn’t take it. “Of course I didn’t throw up. I just didn’t want to cry in from of him.”

“Oh my gods that’s so much better. Um, you might want to tell him that.” Mor smiles and gives her shoulder a playful shove. “Now go tell him I did my job and to stop blowing up my phone.”

Laughing, Elain nods and watches as she leaves, then starts to clean up and close the shop. She feels better than she has since... since she kissed him.

After rushing through her routine, she looks at the flowers around her and gets an idea.

She’s grinning as she locks up and rushes home, making the walk in record time and running up the stairs to their floor.

Like the lady she is, she bangs on his door impatiently, not wanting to waste another second being so damn stupid.

It swings open, revealing him in all his dark t-shirt and jean glory. Her heart starts beating harder just at the sight of him, and she has to clear her throat as she holds up two of the same flowers he bought earlier and says, “You forgot these.”

Azriel smiles, a full, big, beautiful smile that practically forces her to grin back. “I don’t know how. Most expensive flowers I’ve ever bought.”

“The only flowers you’ve ever bought, you mean.”

He shrugs as if to say same difference.

“You talked to Mor?”

Elain nods.

“And you... you believe me now?”

Another nod.

“I’m forgiven?”

She shakes her head at that, but before he can start worrying, she intervenes.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Azriel,” she whispers, sliding her hand in his. “But I did. I’m... I’m so sorry for everything I said. And for the way I treated you. I should’ve just talked to you. I was just hurt and embarrassed and... I don’t know.”

Heartbroken.

He takes the flowers with a little grimace, and she laughs. “You didn’t do anything wrong, either. You thought... gods, I don’t even want to know what you thought I was doing. I’m happy you stood up for yourself.”

His hazel eyes track down her frame to their linked hands, and before he can say or do anything else, she tells him what she’s been dying to for weeks.

“I broke up with Lucien.”

He continues looking at their hands, but there’s a soft smile on his face, so she continues. “The day after... everything happened. I think we’d both known for a while it was over, I knew then I didn’t love him.”

His eyes meet hers, making it difficult to say the words she wants to. “I knew I couldn’t really love him if I kissed you like that. If I felt like that after just one kiss.”

“Elain.”

“And even though I couldn’t stand to think about you at the time, I couldn’t stop. I mean, any girl would if they had someone practically demand that they give them their heart,” she jokes, and his lips twitch.

He opens his mouth to say something, but she cuts him off.

“But you don’t need to demand or eve ask for my heart, Azriel,” she whispers, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Because it’s yours. It’s been yours ever since I saw you on that roof.”

She laughs at herself and shakes her head. “I tried to not give it to you, but...”

Taking his hand, she places it on her chest, right where it should’ve been this whole time. “It’s yours.”

He’s perfectly still as he stands like that, hand on her chest, breath mingling with hers.

But then his trademark little smirk finally appears as he looks down at her and says, “Glad to see you finally stopped lying to yourself.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Azriel just laughs, the sound so light and happy, curls his fingers to grab the front of her dress, and pulls her inside his apartment. “I’ve never been in here,” she remarks, looking around.

She doesn’t get much time to, because he uses a hand on her chin to raise her face to his. “I’ll give you a tour later.”

Elain breathes a sigh of relief as his lips meet hers, immediately winding her arms around his neck. She hears the door close and a splat she assumes is the flowers hitting the floor, but she doesn’t even care.

Just like the first time, he kisses her slowly and purposefully, making her go on her tiptoes to get more.

His hands go to her hips and lift, and then she’s being put on a counter top. Azriel stands between her thighs, pulling her flush against him.

“This is the kitchen,” he mutters as he tugs on her earlobe with his teeth, making her moan.

“It’s hideous,” she breathes, eyes still pressed shut. He smiles against her skin and presses a kiss to her cheek.

His hair is silky soft between her fingers, arms strong around her. This right here is heaven; she’s sure of it. Being kissed by this man is heaven.

“Say my name,” he murmurs, running a thumb over her lower lip.

Leaning forward, she drags her lips across his jaw, down his throat. “Azriel.”

A hand in her hair pulls her head back, and then he kisses her again, and it’s a little more desperate and raw.

His palms scrape across the top of her thighs, gently pushing the hem of her dress u[ until the lace of her underwear peaks out. Eyes dark, he looks down, then huffs a laugh.

She grins, too. They’re completely lace, but they have small, white spots that are designed to look like daisies all over them.

“You just might make me like flowers after all,” he says, dragging his tongue over his lower lip in a way that makes Elain almost pass out.

His arms wrap around her again, tighter this time, and hold her hostage against him as he kisses down her neck and across her chest. She’s squirming and trying desperately to move, to do something, but his arms are steel around her.

She gasps as he sucks on the spot directly under her ear, and he takes that as the cue to scoop her up. Clinging to him, she keeps kissing him, even as he walks across his apartment and into his bedroom.

Thank the gods, she thinks as her back meets a mattress. Pulling on his shirt until he’s on top of her, heavy weight pressing her down, she moves her hips against his.

It’s the sweetest torture, and she doesn’t want it to ever end.

He apparently agrees, because even though she’s panting and desperate for more, he continues to just kiss her.

Elain reaches for the hem of his shirt, and he lifts up enough for her to pull it off.

Scars, tattoos, tan skin.

Beautiful.

Her lips meet his collarbone, goosebumps forming on his skin. But then he’s turning her face up and her mouth becomes occupied by his.

“I want to kiss you forever,” he tells her, nibbling on her lower lip.

“Okay,” she agrees, pulling him back down to her.

It’s a wonderful eternity before he reaches around her for the zipper of her dress, slowly tugging it down. Then he leans up on his knees between her legs and puts his hands on her calves.

So slowly she squirms, he traces his hands up her legs, taking the soft fabric of her dress with them, until she’s in nothing but her underwear and bra.

Bracing himself on his elbows, he leans to press a kiss against the smooth skin of her stomach. He drags his lips over to her hip and kisses there, too. Then he makes a path up to the middle of her chest.

There’s a little rose bow on her bra, and he tugs on it with his teeth. “Fucking flowers.”

Elain laughs, even as rough, perfect hands go to her back and unhook her bra. When it joins the pile of clothes on the floor, his mouth meets her skin, and she moans.

“You drive me crazy,” he growls, kissing the tip of her breast.

Even though she can’t hardly think straight, she says, “You drive me crazy, too.”

“Oh, I’m about to.” He smiles up at her, then pulls her nipple in his mouth, hand going to the other.

Well, at least he warned her.

Elain makes an ungodly amount of sound as he teases her, and she’s pretty sure none of what she says makes sense, but she can’t bring herself to care.

Her body’s coming alive under him, and she’s never felt so... worshiped.

“Azriel,” she groans, and his dark eyes open to meet hers.

The sight of him looking at her, mouth still on her skin, makes her whimper. “I can’t take this. Please.”

He releases her with a small pop, pressing one last kiss to her breast as he murmurs something about her ruining his fun.

She doesn’t care.

She needs him, and she needs him now.

Tattooed fingers slip in the waistband of her underwear, and he watches her intently as he drags them down. “I think I’m going to frame these.”

Elain blushes, and he smiles. “I like making you blush.”

“Well, you’re exceptionally good at it,” she grumbles, embarrassed.

His hands go to the buckle of his jeans, and she watches with unguided interest, even as he says, “I’ve wondered for weeks how much you’ll blush when I fuck you.”

Cheeks bright red, she says, “That’s filthy.”

He toes his boots off, then his jeans hit the floor. “Baby girl, you have no idea.”

“Gods above, please tell me I’m about to,” she begs, way past protecting her dignity.

Azriel rolls his eyes but crawls back up the bed, settling in between her thighs. “Say my name.”

She smiles. “Azriel.”

He pushes into her slowly, and she gasps against his shoulder as he keeps going and going. Then he draws perfectly still above her, letting her adjust.

Or maybe letting himself adjust, because he makes a strangled-sounding noise and mutters, “Fucking gods above, Elain.”

Then he starts to move, and she’s inclined to repeat that sentiment because fucking gods above.

He’s moving so slowly her eyes start to cross, but she can’t bring herself to care because it’s similar to the way he kisses her. Slow and sensual and deep enough to drive her insane.

But it’s also the fact that he’s taking the time to get to know her body and what she likes. And he’s a very studious man.

A hand on her thigh encourages her to wrap herself around him, and she kisses him everywhere she can reach. His lips, his jaw, his shoulders.

Brow knitted in concentration, he moves his hips in a deep circle against hers, and she moans.

His mouth trails back down to her chest, and she clings to him as her body trembles underneath him.

“Azriel.”

The grip on her hip tightens a little, but he refuses to give in and speed up, and she realizes with a jolt why he’s so determined to draw this out.

He isn’t trying to fuck her; he’s making love to her.

That thought, coupled with the way he feels against her, becomes too much, and she pants, “Azriel, I’m going to-”

His mouth covers her just as she finds release, swallowing the sounds she can’t hold in.

But he doesn’t stop.

No, he chooses that exact moment to finally increase his pace.

“Fuck,” she mutters, gripping his shoulders and praying her heart doesn’t stop completely. She feels like she’s coming apart at the seams with pleasure, and she can’t hold herself together. “Gods, Azriel.”

His hips are rough against hers, hands fisted in the sheet next to her head, jaw clenched tight.

If she still had a working brain, she’d be embarrassed by how loud she’s being. But she doesn’t, and she isn’t.

His name falls from her lips again, and Azriel makes a low sound that only adds fuel to the fire.

Her nails are digging into his shoulder blades, but he doesn’t seem to mind one bit as he continues to pound against her. One hand is braced by her head, the other still gripping her hip, and he lifts her almost completely off the bed, not even breaking his rhythm.

Elain groans, and it gets louder as he sucks on the soft skin between her neck and throat.

But it that, or anything else he’s doing to her body, that that finally pushes her over the edge again.

It’s him looking down at her, heart in his eyes, and saying, “Elain.”

She comes with a cry, and this time he follows her, hands gripping her hips tight enough to bruise. She gets a front-row seat to the show, and it’s the best thing she’s ever seen.

He curses in a low, broken voice that makes her toes curl, and his muscles go tight under her hands as he stills. Their breath mingles together, both of them panting like crazy.

Eventually he relaxes between her thighs, putting his head on her chest, and she wraps her arms around him.

For some reason, she can’t help but laugh as she runs her hands slowly through his hair.

He peeks up at her, brows raised. “Why are you... giggling?”

Elain can’t even answer him, because she’s laughing harder now.

His hands clamp over her shoulders and shake her gently as he smiles down at her. “What?”

Finally getting herself under control, she says, “I’m really glad the apartment next to us is empty.”

Azriel grins, then a laugh bubbles out of him, too. “Me, too.”

~Azriel~

Until tonight, the happiest time of my life was when Cassian, Rhys, and I got wasted off our asses, got lost in the middle of a national park, and spent four days doing stupid shit to try and figure out where the hell we were.

I realize now how dumb that was.

Because four fun days with my friends has absolutely nothing on having Elain Archeron sleep in my arms.

Moonlight turns her skin milky and smooth and casts her hair in shadows as I run my fingers through it. She sighs happily, breath heating my chest.

She’s passed out, head in the crook of my shoulder, leg thrown over my waist.

And I’ve never been so content with being unable to sleep.

Honestly, with her next to me, I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again. Why the hell would I, when I could watch her instead?

I trace the curve of her lips, and they twitch under my touch in a way that makes me grin.

I’m completely wrapped around her finger, and I couldn’t care less.

Because if every night’s like tonight... the thought makes me insanely happy.

She’s mine, and I’m hers, and right here in this moment, everything’s perfect.

Elain must feel me staring at her, because her eyes peek open a moment later, brown and sleepy and beautiful. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” I kiss her brow. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

The hand resting on my chest starts exploring, and she murmurs, “But I’m awake now.”

She kisses my peck, and then the leg draped over me settles next to my hip, and she’s braced above me. She grins and raises a brow when my hips press into hers, but what did she expect? She’s naked. And beautiful.

“I hope you know, I’m going to bring you flowers every single day,” Elain informs me as she hovers above me in a way that makes my jaw clench.

Fuck.

What’d she say?

Flowers.

“Okay,” I say in a shallow voice, brain focused on her and the teasing little movements of her hips. “I love flowers.”

“Liar.”

I smile, and she mimics the expression. Brushing her hair behind her ear, I tell her, “You look beautiful today, Elain.”

Rolling her eyes, she laughs. And then she sinks down, and we don’t talk for the rest of the night.

____________________________________________________________

I didn’t edit the last part of this whoops. Thank you again for reading and feel free to drop new requests/questions in the box.

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elriell · 4 years

Note

i love your meta posts and would really like to see your thoughts on nessian and maybe the next book in detail?? thanks

Thank you, I enjoy doing them. As usual this will be rather long especially with quotes but there is so much Nessian goodness to discuss so bare with me.

[MY FULL THOUGHTS ON NESTA]

We will get in to the good, the bad, and everything in between but let’s start with their future and them being mates. This is not an unpopular belief to my knowledge but let’s talk about it because I feel this will be a part of their arc next book, especially since ACOFAS was kind of setting up the bridge for the spin off.

So take a look at these quotes from ACOFAS,

“Cassian’s face turned uncharacteristically solemn, and he remained quiet for a moment before he said, “I get jealous sometimes. I’d never begrudge you for your happiness, but what you two have, Rhys …” He dragged a hand through his hair, his crimson Siphon glinting in the light streaming through the window. “It’s the legends, the lies, they spin us when we’re children. About the glory and wonder of the mating bond. I thought it was all bullshit. Then you two came along.”

“What about you?” I asked, pulling away after a moment. “Are you … happy?” Shadows darkened his hazel eyes. “I’m getting there.” A halfhearted answer.”

I believe this is just a little teaser for his future with her, there is so much foreshadowing about both of them being mates but also becoming something powerful, especially Nesta.

“What if I tell you what the rock and darkness and sea beyond whispered to me, Lord of Bloodshed? How they shuddered in fear, on that island across the sea. How they trembled when she emerged. She took something—something precious. She ripped it out with her teeth.”

Cassian’s golden-brown face had drained of color, his wings tucking in tight. “What did you wake that day in Hybern, Prince of Bastards?”

He is described as a leader, a prince and a god a few times but the foreshadowing for Nesta becoming a Queen/Leader is unparalleled. I know quite a few people are not fond of the idea but to be honest with all the written breadcrumbs I cannot imagine it going any other way... It is mentioned so often.

“Nesta was waiting at the head of the table, a queen ready to hold court. ”

“But she turned to Cassian, looked him over as if she were a queen on a throne, and then declared to all of us,”

“How lovely she is—new as a fawn and yet ancient as the sea. How she calls to you. A queen, as my sister once was. Terrible and proud; beautiful as a winter sunrise.”

“And proud as any queen, Nesta took Elain’s arm and led her from the guardhouse. Mor trailed behind,”

“A queen without a throne. That was what I’d call the painting that swept into my mind.”

“She kept her chin high, the portrait of queenly arrogance. “I’m not.”

“Talk to me. Nesta. Tell me—” She ripped her hand out of his grip. Stared him down. A mighty, vengeful queen.”

And I feel it will obviously be something to do with the Illyrians, as that is what is being set up. I believe they will become leaders of the Illyrians in a new way not currently present.

Mates

“And what about Cassian? He’s entangled—and enabling this nonsense.” A wry smile. “Cassian is going to have to decide some things, too. In the near future, I think.” “Are he and Nesta …?” “I don’t know. Until the bond snaps into place, it can be hard to detect.”

At this rate I do not even think it is questionable but let’s pretend we have to prove it, here are some key pieces of evidence,

Exhibit A)

Feyre painting the stars for her Mate, and her painting flames for Nesta.

“Nesta,” I said, starting on the other wing, “I painted flames for her. She was always angry, always burning. I think she and Amren would be fast friends. ”

“There was something rough-hewn about his features—like he’d been made of wind and earth and flame and all these civilized trappings were little more than an inconvenience.”

“A matching one lay atop his left hand; and twin red stones adorned Cassian’s gauntlets, their color like the slumbering heart of a flame.”

“So at odds from the male who had gone head to head with my sister, unable to resist matching himself against Nesta’s spirit of steel and flame.”

Exhibit B)

First potential scenting of it/Paralleling Rhys.

“He bowed at the waist, those wings vanishing entirely, and had begun to fade into the nearest shadow when he went rigid. His eyes locked on mine, wide and wild, and his nostrils flared. Shock—pure shock flashed across his features at whatever he saw on my face, and he stumbled back a step. Actually stumbled. “What is—” I began.” [Rhys] “But he did take a step closer, bracing a hand on the mantel, and leaned in close enough to breathe in that scent of hers. It hit him in the gut so hard her could barely focus, and it took five centuries of training to make himself meet her eyes rather than let his own roll back in his head, to keep himself poised there instead of burying his face in the crook between her neck and shoulder, to keep from moving closer, from… touching.”

“Yes, devastating was a good word for how lovely she’d become as High Fae. And in a long-sleeved, dark blue gown that clung to her curves before falling gracefully to the ground in a spill of fabric …

Cassian looked like someone had punched him in the gut.”

Exhibit C)

Feeling each others pain/worry without being there.

“He’d followed. She’d known it in her bones, her blood. He’d kept high in the skies, but he’d followed until she’d entered the building.”

“CASSIAN.” Amren reached for her, but Nesta roared, “CASSIAN!”

“Nesta had known. She gaped up at me, terror and agony on her face, then scanned the sky for Cassian, who flapped in place, as if torn between coming for us and charging back to the scattering Illyrian and Peregryn ranks. She’d known where that blast was about to hit. Cassian had been right in the center of it. Or would have been, if she hadn’t called him away.”

The door opened, and Cassian stalked in, face grave. The sight of the wings, the Illyrian armor in this opulent, pink-filled room planted itself in my mind, the painting already taking form, as he said, “What’s wrong.” [...] But I said, “She senses something is off��says we need to leave right away.” I waited for the dismissal, but Cassian angled his head. “What, precisely, feels wrong?”

“Nesta’s screaming was the only sound. Cassian blindly lurched toward it—toward her, moaning in pain.”

“I whipped my head to Nesta as she went silent. The Cauldron righted itself. Cassian again stirred, slumping on the floor—but his hand twitched. Toward Nesta.”

“You’re hurt.” Rhys snapped to attention at that. [...] Cassian seemed to hesitate, but offered it to her, tapping the Siphon atop his palm. The armor slid back a fraction over his forearm, revealing— “You know better than to walk around with an injury,” Rhys said a bit tensely. “I was busy,” Cassian said, not taking his focus off Nesta as she studied the swollen wrist. How she’d detected it through the armor … She must have read it in his eyes, his stance. I hadn’t realized she’d been observing the Illyrian general enough to notice his tells.”

Underrated Moments?

“Eat or bed?” Cassian had asked Nesta, and I honestly couldn’t tell if he’d meant it as some invitation. I debated telling him he was in no shape.

Nesta only said, “Bed.” And there was certainly no invitation in the exhausted reply.”

I feel like this is such an underrated moment between them, there is so much care and comfort in these moments I love it.

“Is she a witch.”

“She may act like one sometimes,” Cassian clarified, “but no—she is High Fae.” LOL

“Nesta listened to the low-level Illyrian soldiers whispering about how Cassian had thrown that spear, how he’d cut down soldiers like stalks of wheat, how he’d fought like Enalius—their most ancient warrior-god and the first of the Illyrians. [...]

Nesta watched, and listened to it all, while the camp was built around us.”

This part of ACOWAR when she is settling in, helping out and listening to the tales of Cassian I think will come to parallel in ACOTAR 4. I love the idea that she just sat around listening to the legend of warrior gods...

Parallels

“Why do you bother, Cassian?”

His hazel eyes shuttered as we smoothly landed. And I thought he wouldn’t answer, especially not as we heard the others already in the dining room beyond the veranda,[...] But Cassian said quietly as we headed for the dining room, “Because I can’t stay away.”

Nesta gritted her teeth, trying to haul Cassian up once more. A broken sound of pain ripped from him. “Go! ” he barked at her. “I can’t,” she breathed, voice breaking. “I can’t.”

*cries*

“But Nesta was glancing between us all, her back still stiff, mouth a thin line. “Where is he?” “Who?” Rhys crooned. “Cassian.”

I didn’t think I’d ever heard his name from her lips. Cassian had always been him or that one. And Nesta had been … pacing in the foyer. As if she was worried.

“I was almost at the door when Cassian said, “Is …” He swallowed. I spared him the discomfort of trying to mask his interest. “Both sisters will be at the house. Whether they want to or not.” Cassian’s eyes flickered. “How is she?”

Rhysand just stuck in the middle probably thinking these fucking idiots ahaha

“Are you … happy?” Shadows darkened his hazel eyes. “I’m getting there.”A halfhearted answer. I’d have to work on that, too. Perhaps there were threads to be pulled, woven together.”

“Perhaps you should get a place of your own, then.” “I have one in Illyria.” “I meant here.” Cassian lifted a brow. “I don’t need a house here. I need a room.” [...] I chuckled again, but held in my retort. My suggestion that he might want a place of his own. Soon. Not that anything was happening on that front. Not anytime soon. Nesta had made it clear enough she had no interest in Cassian—not even in being in the same room as him. I knew why. I’d seen it happen, had felt that way plenty.”

had felt that way plenty

HAD FELT THAT WAY PLENTY.

HaD FElt tHAt wAY PLenTY

Perhaps this is really why they sent her to Illyria? Is this them weaving? Not sure how I feel about that really, but we shall see.

She only said, “Go home, Cassian.” He could count on one hand the number of times she’d used his name. Called him anything other than you or that one.”

“Cassian.” I didn’t think I’d ever heard his name from her lips. Cassian had always been him or that one.”

Their reactions to each other currently.

“No matter that she could scarcely stand to be around him. No matter that she had once, long ago, in a mortal body and in a house that no longer existed, let him kiss her throat. Being near him made her want to shatter things. As her power sometimes did, unbidden. Secretly.”

“But from the moment he’d met Nesta, the cold fire in her blue-gray eyes had been a temptation of a different sort. And now that she was High Fae, that inherent dominance, the aggression—and that piss-poor attitude … There was a reason he avoided her as much as possible. Even after the war, things were still too volatile, both within the Night Court’s borders and in the world beyond. And the female before him had always made him feel like he was standing in quicksand.”

Training

Quite a few people do not want her to become a epic warrior, and while I understand that especially after her quote in the books about there being other ways to be strong... but after SJM interviews and so forth I definitely think they will go in that direction...

“You’ll what?” Cassian crooned, trailing her at a casual pace as she stopped perhaps five feet from me. He lifted a brow as she whirled on him. “You won’t join me for practice, so you sure as hell aren’t going to hold your own in a fight. You won’t talk about your powers, so you certainly aren’t going to be able to wield them. And you—”

“Something drew Cassian’s attention behind me. And even as his body remained casual, a predatory gleam flickered in his eyes. I didn’t need to turn to know who was standing there. “Care to join?” Cassian purred. Nesta said, “It doesn’t look like you’re exercising anything other than your mouths.”

“Cassian pressed one of his knives into Nesta’s hand. “Ash can kill you now,” he said with lethal quiet as she stared down at the blade. “A scratch can make you queasy enough to be vulnerable. Remember where the exits are in every room, every fence and courtyard—mark them when you go in, and mark how many men are around you. Mark where Rhys and the others are. Don’t forget that you’re stronger and faster. Aim for the soft parts,” he added, folding her fingers around the hilt. “And if someone gets you into a hold …”

Morrigan

Alright let’s move on to Mor, I am sure there are a lot of opinions on her/and her relationship with Cassian. I am going to try not to get in to detail about her personally and keep it too Nessian because I feel like that is a whole other can of worms...

“And then there would be the matter of explaining it to everyone.

To Mor. His blood chilled.”

This is a big reason for why I need both of their own POV’s because there is so much we are limited to being inside of Feyre’s head. But one thing is clear and that is that there is something wrong here, ^^^ that response is not normal for a “friend” to find out you like/whatever someone.

It is not a healthy dynamic at all, I am sorry.

I believe it also alters and changes the way Nesta perceives things, we as readers may know nothing is currently going on between them but as an outside party she would not know that and some of their scenes have got to raise alarms.

“You’re hurt?”

At the sound of Mor’s voice, Cassian snatched his hand back and pivoted toward Mor with a lazy smile. “Nothing for you to cry over, don’t worry.”

Nesta dragged her stare from his face—down to her now-empty hand, her fingers still curled as if his palm lay there. Cassian didn’t look at Nesta as she rose, snatching up the pitcher, and muttered something about getting more water from inside the tent.

Case and point, this was a rather cold and heartless thing to do especially given that she is finally trying to help him and open up. Imagine being Nesta in this situation, it is sure to raise some alarm bells...

“Rhys chuckled. Cassian, however, didn’t smile, every pore of him seemingly fixed on Nesta and Mor.”

I really hope they expand on why he is so afraid of her reaction.

“Just what I always wanted.” He held up a pair of what seemed to be red silk undershorts. The perfect match to her negligee. With Nesta pointedly preoccupied with flipping through her new books,”

“Cassian and Mor fell into their banter, laughing and taunting each other about the battle and the ones ahead. Nesta didn’t come back out again for some time.”

“The general of the High Lord’s armies stuck out his tongue. Mor returned the gesture. Amren scowled at Rhys. “You’d be wise to leave both of them at home for the meeting with the others, Rhysand. They’ll cause nothing but trouble.” His face was indeed controlled, but—a hint of surprise twinkled there. Wariness, too, but … surprise. I risked another glance at Nesta, but she was watching her plate, dutifully ignoring the others.”

I think it is very interesting that SJM put these scenes in here because as readers again we might laugh and enjoy the banter between the circle but she is making it a point to show that Nesta is bothered/has a reaction to these moments. I wouldn’t even call it jealousy per-say but rather wariness over someone she considers a player flirting around, raising red flags.

Especially getting matching underwear with someone, as an outsider how would you perceive that?

“Mor’s lips pressed into a thin line, as if she was trying her best not to say anything. Azriel was trying his best to shoot a warning stare at Mor to remind her to indeed keep her mouth shut. As if they’d already discussed this. Many times.”

I opened my mouth, but Mor beat me to it.

“He’s busy.” I’d never heard her voice so … sharp. Icy.

Mor said flatly, “When he gets back, keep your forked tongue behind your teeth.”

“I tried not to look too obvious as I glanced at Cassian.They had not seen each other since Adriata.But the warrior only gave her a cursory once-over and turned toward Azriel to say something. Mor was watching both carefully—the warning she’d given my sister ringing silently between them. And Nesta, Mother damn it all, seemed to remember. Seemed to rein in whatever words she’d been about to spit and just approached me.”

“So you’re alive.”Cassian bared his teeth in a feral grin, wings flaring slightly. “Were you hoping otherwise?”

Mor was watching—watching so closely, every muscle tense. She again reached for his arm, but Cassian angled out of reach, not tearing his eyes from Nesta’s blazing gaze.

I don’t agree with her at all, especially since she is a hypocrite because if anyone brings up her relationship with Azriel it is unacceptable and not their business. You can be a friend, you can be protective, as I am sure Az also is but you can keep it to yourself, or Cassian.

Her not wanting to loose her buffer is not only selfish but cruel to him.

“Your Solstice present.” “I don’t want one.” Cassian continued past her, tossing the present in his hands. “You’ll want this one.” He prayed she would. It had taken him months to find it. He hadn’t wanted to give it to her in front of the others. Hadn’t even known she’d be there tonight.”

This isn’t directly linked to Mor but it kind of falls under the same theme of him being shy/embarrassed(?) in regards to her, for whatever reason it doesn’t put things in the best light. We can only speculate about what was inside it, and boy do we, so we can’t say if it was personal or private but the idea that he didn’t want to display any... sentiment towards her publicly must rub her the wrong way especially since only Elain got her a present.

Touch

Not much to analyse here I just want to quote and appreciate these moments.

His voice was rough as he said, “Five hundred years ago, I fought on battlefields not far from this house. I fought beside human and faerie alike, bled beside them. I will stand on that battlefield again, Nesta Archeron, to protect this house—your people. I can think of no better way to end my existence than to defend those who need it most.”

I watched a tear slide down Nesta’s cheek. And I watched as Cassian reached up a hand to wipe it away. She did not flinch from his touch.”

“Nesta was standing there, arms around herself, eyes wide. Cassian only stretched out an arm for her. As if in a trance, she walked right to his side. His arms tightened around both of us, Siphons flaring, gilding the darkness with bloodred light.”

“She let out a small, animal sound—like some wounded stag—as she saw him. As he landed so hard his knees popped. He said nothing as Nesta launched herself toward him, her dress filthy and disheveled, her arms stretching for him. He opened his own for her, unable to stop his approach, his reaching—”

“Cassian said to her, “Nothing can harm you here.” He sucked in a breath, groaning softly, and rose to his feet. Azriel tried to stop him, but Cassian brushed him off and strode for my sister’s side. He braced a hand on the desk when he at last stopped. “Nothing can harm you,” he repeated. Nesta was still looking at him when she finally shut her eyes. I shifted, and the angle allowed me to see what I hadn’t detected before. Nesta stood before the map, a fist of bones and stones clenched over it. Cassian remained at her side—his other hand on her lower back. And I marveled at the touch she allowed—marveled at it as much as I did the mud-splattered hand she held out. The concentration that settled over her face.”

“Cassian seemed too weary to speak as well while she wrapped bandages around his wrist, only grunting to confirm if it was too tight or too loose, if it helped at all. But he watched her—didn’t take his eyes off her face, the brows bunched and lips pursed in concentration.

And when she’d tied it neatly, his wrist wrapped in white, when Nesta made to pull back, Cassian gripped her fingers in his good hand. She lifted her gaze to his. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. Nesta did not yank her hand away. Did not open her mouth for some barbed retort.”

“Cassian brushed a thumb down the back of her hand. “You’re welcome,” Cassian called after her, more than a bite to his voice. His hands clenched and slackened at his sides—as if he were trying to loosen the feel of her from his palms.”

“Her gloved fingers scraped against his calluses, but he held firm. “Talk to me. Nesta. Tell me—” She ripped her hand out of his grip. Stared him down. A mighty, vengeful queen.”

Watching

“He studied every inch of her. As if there were nothing and no one else here, anywhere.”

“When I looked ahead, I found Cassian staring back at Nesta as well. I wondered why no one had yet mentioned what now shone in Cassian’s eyes as he gazed at my sister. The sorrow. And the longing.”

“Cassian watched every bite she took, every bob of her throat as she swallowed.”

“Cassian had named about two dozen poses for Nesta at this point. Ranging from I Will Eat Your Eyes for Breakfast to I Don’t Want Cassian to Know I’m Reading Smut. The latter was his particular favorite. Suppressing his smile, Cassian gestured to the pretty piles”

“But Mor waved him off and moved to pass Cassian his gift; but the warrior didn’t take it. Or take his eyes off Nesta as she undid the brown paper wrapping on the box and revealed a set of five novels in a leather box. She read the titles, then lifted her head to Elain.”

“What are you?” Cassian didn’t seem to dare take his focus off Nesta. But my sister slowly looked at Lucien.”

“Good,” Cassian said, glancing at Nesta. “If I end my life defending those who need it most, then I will consider it a death well spent.” Lord Devlon, for once, nodded his approval. I wondered if Cassian noticed it—if he cared. His face revealed nothing, not as his focus remained wholly on my sister.”

“She looked to Beron and his family as she finished. Only the Lady and Eris seemed to be considering—impressed, even, by the strange, simmering woman before them. I didn’t have the words in me—to convey what was in my heart. Cassian seemed the same.”

“I do not want to be remembered as a coward.” “No one would say that,” I offered quietly. “I would.” Nesta surveyed us all, her gaze jumping past Cassian. Not to slight him, but … avoid answering the look he was giving her. Approval—more. ”

“Nesta’s eyes shot right to his face. She spoke quietly to me, to all of us, even as she held Cassian’s gaze as if he were the only one in the room.”

“Nesta had been beautiful as a human woman. As High Fae, she was devastating. From the utter stillness with which Cassian stood beside me, I wondered if he thought the same thing.”

Nesta blurted, “You didn’t come to—” She stopped herself. The world seemed to go utterly still at that interrupted sentence, nothing and no one more so than Cassian. He scanned her face as if furiously reading some battle report. Mor just watched as Cassian took Nesta’s slim hand in his own, interlacing their fingers. As he folded in his wings and blindly reached his other hand back toward Mor in a silent order to transport them. Cassian’s eyes did not leave Nesta’s; nor did hers leave his. There was no warmth, no tenderness on either of their faces. Only that raging intensity, that blend of contempt and understanding and fire.”

Can someone tell them both there are other people in the room? I don’t think they know...

Protect

“Tamlin snarled at her. Cassian snarled right back, “Watch it.” Tamlin looked between my sister and Cassian—his gaze lingering on Cassian’s wings, tucked in behind him. Snorted. “Seems like other preferences run in the Archeron family, too.”

“Cassian had stationed himself by the doorway, I realized, to be closer to Nesta. To grab her if Amren decided she didn’t particularly care for where this conversation was headed[...] Cassian was staring at Nesta—hard enough that my sister at last twisted toward him. Met his gaze. His head tilted—slightly. A silent order. Nesta, to my shock, obeyed. Drifted over to Cassian’s side as Amren replied to Rhys, “No.”

“Cassian casually slid Nesta behind him, his fingers snagging in the skirts of her black gown. As if to reassure himself that she wasn’t in Amren’s direct path. Nesta only rose onto her toes to peer over his shoulder.”

This is a personal favourite of mine because when it is truly dangerous she trusts and relies on Cassian completely. Also just the imagery of her peering over his shoulder is golden.

“Something …” The word was cut off by a low groan. She sagged, and Mor caught her fully, scanning Nesta’s face. Cassian was instantly there, his hand at her back, teeth bared at the invisible threat.”

“I don’t think even the Carver knows what Nesta is. But I wanted to see—just in case.”

“Why?”

“I want to help.”

“How do I fix it?” she asked. Her hair had been tied in a loose knot atop her head earlier in the day, and in the hours that we’d worked to ready and distribute supplies to the healers, through the heat and humidity, stray tendrils had come free to curl about her temple, her nape. Faint color had stained her cheeks from the sun, and her forearms, bare beneath the sleeves she’d rolled up, were flecked with mud.”

Despite any vicious words or silly mistakes they both care for each other, the second anyone becomes a threat or a problem to their counterpart a deeper more hidden feeling emerges. A protective instinct.

Brooding

“He very rarely allowed himself to think of her, anyway. It usually didn’t end well for whoever was in the sparring ring with him.”

“He was grateful the streets were empty when he hurled that box into the Sidra. Hurled it hard enough that the splash echoed off the buildings flanking the river, ice cracking from the impact. Ice instantly re-formed over the hole he’d blown open. As if it, and the present. had never been.”

“Cassian shut out the words. Shut out the image that chased him from his dreams, night after night: not Nesta holding up the King of Hybern’s head like a trophy; not the way her father’s neck had twisted in Hybern’s hands. But the image of her leaning over him, covering Cassian’s body with her own, ready to take the full brunt of the king’s power for him. To die for him—with him. That slender, beautiful body, arching over him, shaking in terror, willing to face that end. He hadn’t seen a glimpse of that person in months. Had not seen her smile or laugh.”

Understanding/Compassion

He may have his slip ups but thus far he has proven to be rather compassionate when it comes to Nesta and understanding where she comes from.

“Mother’s tits, Rhys,” Cassian cut in, wings flaring wide enough to nearly knock over the ceramic vase on the side table next to him. “You think we can just take over her family’s house, demand that of them?”

From before they even met he showed understanding to their beliefs about the fae.

“I don’t blame her,” Cassian said, shrugging despite his words. “She was—violated. Her body stopped belonging wholly to her.” His jaw clenched. Even Amren didn’t dare say anything. “And I am going to peel the King of Hybern’s skin off his bones the next time I see him.”

I think they both have their positive and negative attributes to face but overall they genuinely try their best for each other.

“Dresses aren’t good for flying, ladies.” Nesta didn’t reply.

He lifted a brow. “No barking and biting today?” But Nesta didn’t rise to meet him, her face still drained and sallow. “I’ve never worn pants,” was all she said. I could have sworn concern flashed across Cassian’s features. But he brushed it aside and drawled, “I have no doubt you’d start a riot if you did.”

No reaction. Had the Cauldron— Cassian stepped in Nesta’s path when she tried to walk past him. Put a tan, callused hand on her forehead. She shook off the touch, but he gripped her wrist, forcing her to meet his stare. “Any one of those human pricks makes a move to hurt you,” he breathed, “and you kill them.”

The beautiful thing I love about Cassian is that he loves her wholly and without concern of her abilities, her walls.

“Would you be frightened of her, if Nesta was—Death? Or if her power came from it?” Cassian was quiet for a long moment.

He said at last, “I’m a warrior. I’ve walked beside Death my entire life. I would be more afraid for her, to have that power. But not afraid of her.” He considered, and added after a heartbeat, “Nothing about Nesta could frighten me.”

I swallowed, and squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

These idiots are both as stubborn and silly as each other, “oh you didn’t say anythign to me!” “well neither did you” honestly, these donuts will be the death of me but I love them anyways.

“And you didn’t say one gods-damned word to me the entire night.

Not that he’d said a word to her. She’d made it clear enough in those initial days after that last battle that she wanted nothing to do with him. With any of them.

He understood. He really did. It had taken him months—years—after his first battles to readjust. To cope. Hell, he was still reeling from what had happened in that final battle with Hybern, too.”

But again he acknowledges her pain, her inability to cope and return to normal after her trauma. Which I dive in to a lot more in my Nesta post, but in short my frustration lies with him saying he understands but then in moments she is suffering he seems to forget occasionally and snap.

Funny/Little moments

“I’d asked what, exactly, Nesta had said to him to get under his skin so easily. But Cassian had only snarled and told me to mind my own business, and that my family was full of bossy, know-it-all females.”

“What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” He stalked past me to the ring. “Is it Nesta?” “Not everything in my life is about your sister, you know.”

“Why should I be scared of an oversized bat who likes to throw temper tantrums?”

“Neither of us missed Cassian’s barked, filthy curse, though we didn’t deign to comment. Cassian was a general—the general of the Night Court. Surely Nesta wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.”

“Ready for some flying, Nes?” “Don’t call me that.” The wrong thing to say, from the way Cassian’s eyes lit up.”

“Nesta in a pale gray gown that brought out the steel in her eyes, Elain in dusty pink. Both males went a bit still. But Azriel sketched a bow—while Cassian stalked for the dining table, reached right over Nesta’s shoulder, and grabbed a muffin from its little basket. “Morning, Nesta,” he said around a mouth of blueberry-lemon. “Elain.”

“Cassian took a step away, but looked back at Nesta. Her face was hard as granite. He opened his mouth, but seemed to decide against whatever he was about to say.”

“He knew about the drinking, about the males. He told himself he didn’t care. He told himself he didn’t want to know who the bastard was who had taken her maidenhead. Told himself he didn’t want to know if the males meant anything—if he meant anything.”

Ownership

“His eyes widened, but the scent of his fear remained—not at her, but at who he’d heard at the front door. As he remembered who she was, both in the court, and to Cassian. She chucked his white shirt to him. “You can use the front door now.”

I think this is a big rub for Nesta, this feeling of ownership. I truly belive she knows and has felt the bond for a little while, for sure after ACOWAR. As we saw with her reaction to Lucien “claiming” Elain as his mate she is not here for this sense of entitlement fae males have.

It doesn’t further help when those around her and in Velaris all treat her as if she is his now. And she is most certainly not.

“Starting with the first male she’d taken here, who had no idea that her maidenhead was intact until he’d spied the speckled blood on the sheets. His face had gone white with terror—pure, ghastly white. Not for fear of Feyre and Rhysand’s wrath. But the wrath of that insufferable Illyrian brute.”

Is this Cassian’s fault? NO. But it probably will not help the situation for her.

“Yet as far as anyone was now concerned, the events of that last battle had bound them. Her and Cassian.”

Promises & Mistakes

“Cassian shook his dark hair out of his eyes, slightly longer than the last time I’d seen it. “I don’t think Nesta will ever forgive me for what happened in Hybern. To her—but mostly to Elain.”

“Your wings were shredded. You were barely alive.”

For that was guilt—ravaging and poisonous—in each of Cassian’s words. What the others had been fighting against in the loft. “You were in no position to save anyone.”“I made her a promise.” The wind ruffled Cassian’s hair as he squinted at the sky. “And when it mattered, I didn’t keep it.”

It is so sad that he feels that way when it clearly was far beyond his control, but I am glad that Nesta doesn’t really hold it against him and when it comes to it later on she trusts him yet again to protect her.

“It goes both ways,” Nesta murmured, as if my mate’s words moments before had triggered the idea. “He doesn’t know how much I took. And if … if I make it seem like I’m about to use his power … He’ll come running. Just to kill me.”

“He will kill you,” Cassian snarled. Her hand clenched on his arm. “That’s—that’s where you come in.”

noooow for the scene we probably all equally cringe over...

“Stop following me. Stop trying to haul me into your happy little circle. Stop doing all of it.”

He knew a wounded animal when he saw one. Knew the teeth they could bare, the viciousness they displayed. But it couldn’t keep him from saying, “Your sisters love you. I can’t for the life of me understand why, but they do. If you can’t be bothered to try for my happy little circle’s sake, then at least try for them.”

A void seemed to enter those eyes. An endless, depthless void.

Other than simply being hurt and frustrated I cannot for the life of me understand why he would say that of all things, it is such a hurtful but also random thing to say especially since he seemed to find plenty to like about her prior.

But again they are both akin to make mistakes, saying things they shouldn’t, Nesta certainly cannot complain as she can be very bad for it.

ICONIC.

“Nesta surged to her feet, staggering across the clearing, blood at her mouth from where he’d hit her, and threw herself to her knees before Cassian. “Get up,” she sobbed, hauling at his shoulder. “Get up.” He tried—and failed. “You’re too heavy,” she pleaded, but still tried to raise him, fingers scrabbling in his black, bloodied armor. “I can’t—he’s coming—” “Go,” Cassian groaned. Cassian grunted in pain, but lifted his bloodied hands—to cup her face. “I have no regrets in my life, but this.” His voice shook with every word. “That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta.” She didn’t stop him as he leaned up and kissed her—lightly. As much as he could[…]”

“And even the Cauldron seemed to pause in surprise—surprise or some … feeling as Nesta looked at the king with death twining around his hands, then down at Cassian. And covered Cassian’s body with her own. Cassian went still—then his hand slid over her back. Together. They’d go together.”

“Cassian was sizing up Nesta, a gleam in his eyes that I could only interpret as a warrior finding himself faced with a new, interesting opponent.

Then, Mother above, Nesta shifted her attention to Cassian, noticing that gleam—what it meant. She snarled softly, “What are you looking at?”

Cassian’s brows rose—little amusement to be found now. “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall.” My face began heating, and I opened my mouth. To say what, I didn’t know. “Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.”

Nesta didn’t bat an eyelash as she studied the handsome features, the muscled torso. Then turned to me. Dismissing him entirely. Cassian’s face went almost feral. A wolf who had been circling a doe … only to find a mountain cat wearing its hide instead.”

Nesta

“Nesta is different from most people,” I explained. “She comes across as rigid and vicious, but I think it’s a wall. A shield—like the ones Rhys has in his mind.”

“Against what?”

“Feeling. I think Nesta feels everything—sees too much; sees and feels it all. And she burns with it. Keeping that wall up helps from being overwhelmed, from caring too greatly.”

And I think that is what makes one of the last things we hear from her in ACOFAS where she admits she isn’t feeling anything at all, a stark contrast from before the war. She is traumatised. Unfeeling,

“Until she drew her knees to her chest and stared into the dimness. Still the silence raged and echoed around her. Still she felt nothing.”

"Nesta struggles a lot with her mental health, with facing her past, with healing herself and learning to love herself and open herself up to other people." -Sarah J Maas

As for the next book I think it will be about both of them learning to heal, to grow, and face all the unspoken things between them. I personally cannot wait for both of them to do so, I love them both equally.

They are both flawed and complicated characters but that is precisely what I love about them.

As usual I say, I am always open to discussions and opinions, I love to chat but lets keep it calm and respectful. Everyones opinion is valid ♥️

#nessian #nesta archeron #ACOTAR #ACOTAR 4 #Cassian #Nesta x Cassian #A court of thorns and roses #mine #nessian meta #cassian x nesta #Anonymous

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julemmaes · 4 years

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Pinky Promise - Chapter Five

A/N: I want to dedicate this chapter to @queenestarcheron whose comments literally give me life and the main reason I’m writing this story basically. I’m sorry for this chapter and I really feel like this is just the start where everything goes bad and then bad and then bad and uuugh I’m sorry

I wrote this whole chapter listening to Let’s Hurt Tonight by OneRepublic and idk, if you like to hurt like I do I’ll advice you read it with the song on repeat;)

Fic masterlist

Word count: 5,659

Nesta had only been awake for ten minutes and already felt all the fatigue that Monday would bestow upon her. She was staring at the ceiling counting the seconds until she had to get up and get ready to go to work and when the phone started vibrating for the third time that morning, Nesta huffed and went to the bathroom.

The headache was completely gone and it seemed as if she hadn't gone through all the pain that had caused her to be unable to walk last night. She just hoped that it wouldn't come back to haunt her, because the idea of being as vulnerable in front of everyone again as she had shown herself the night before at such a delicate moment in her life gave her goosebumps.

Elain had left her some kind of medicine on the kitchen table with a yellow post-it on top of it said 'I hope you're feeling better. I bought them for you, so put them in your purse before you go out.' with two little hearts drawn around an elegant E.

She was trying not to make too much noise to wake her sisters when she heard a grunt coming from the living room. She froze with the kettle in her hand and arched her eyebrows, walking slowly towards the sofa.

There, lying without restraint on the cushions, was Cassian. He was wearing one of his pyjamas that he kept in the apartment and held one of the pillows that she always used to his chest. He kept his neck bent in a uncomfortable position and she knew that she should have moved his head to avoid him a despicable stiff neck, but even the risk that he might wake up and hover over her, following her all over the kitchen as if she could collapse at any moment prevented her from feeling pity for the man.

She remained to look at him for a moment too long, hand on her hip and the desire to put her lips on his rosy and fleshy ones.

If she lingered too much, she would not be able to leave the house.

Closing the kitchen door behind her, she had breakfast quietly, preparing some cold rice and leaving three equally full containers for the others. Elain would work all day, Feyre would have classes overlapping and she would not be able to find a minute to eat, forgetting all about it, and Cassian would be on shift at the bar and would end up eating the first thing that came his way and he already ate enough leftovers from his customers to pass up a fried meal for once.

She passed in front of the living room and opened the door with her bag on her shoulder. She looked at the sofa and could only see Cassian's toes and puffed, irritated with herself. She quickly laid the stuff on the floor and approached him, taking his head in her hands and arranging it in such a way that he wouldn't be paralyzed by the pain as soon as he woke up.

Cassian moved grimacing and put his head back in the previous position. Nesta frowned, "Why don't you ever do what I fucking tell you? Not even in your sleep," she whispered slowly.

***

"Nesta?" Clare seemed shocked to see her come in through the back door, "What on earth are you doing here?"

Nesta looked around, genuinely confused by what was happening, "It's Monday, isn't it?" then slumped, groaning, "Oh god, did I get the days wrong again?"

Clare shook her head, "No, no, it's Monday and you're on time," she said as she approached her. Nesta sighed. "Only, Cassian sent me a message late last night saying that you were really very sick and that you wouldn't be able to make it," she explained, smiling at her.

She probably thought it was sweet and nice that her centenarian boyfriend took such good care of her that he felt compelled to call her work and take the day off.

Sometimes she was amazed at how much Cassian didn't seem to know her at all.

Then she closed her eyes, thinking how wrong what she had just said was.

No one knew her better than he did, and if he had called his boss to take the day off it meant that she had been really sick the night before.

She shook her head, taking one hand to her forehead, "I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine."

From behind one of the shelves, Emerie appeared with a mountain of books in her arms. As soon as she saw her, she wrinkled her forehead, "You look like shit," she said to her as a greeting, still continuing to place the new arrivals on the shelves, "Shouldn't you be at home resting?"

"Did he text everyone?" Nesta asked, opening her arms wide.

Clare shook her head no, "No, but he sent me a very long message and sounded very worried," she shrugged, "I thought it was something serious. I would have sent you a message mid-morning, I didn't want to risk waking you."

Emerie agreed with her, going back to the other room to get more books.

"It's all a mess and he shouldn't have sent you any messages," sighed Nesta, walking towards the staff room and raising her voice a little, "It's been a very long week and I have to tell you many things, if we don't have too many customers I can do it even before lunch."

Emerie appeared almost running into the little room where they took their lunch breaks and where they rested when people were not too numerous. Her eyes were wide open and there was an amused glint there, "I can't believe it," she snorted, "The longest lasting couple in history fought."

Nesta glanced at her, but said nothing. Emerie smirked.

"Wait Nes!" they heard Clare screaming, who arrived with a box that must have weighed more than her. Emerie raised an eyebrow and Clare looked at her frowning, "I couldn't hear what she was saying...".

Nesta snickered, "Don't worry, you were just missing Em fucking with me."

Clare walked up to the middle of the room, placed the box on the table and started to open it, "So?" she spurred her to speak.

"It's a really long story and knowing you, you wouldn't survive if we were interrupted halfway through the story." Nesta seemed hesitant and the two girls exchanged a quick and confused look.

Emerie stepped forward, "How serious is this?"

Nesta looked her in the eye for a few seconds, "A I-don't-know-if-we're-still-together kind of serious." she nodded, reducing her lips to a thin line.

"Holy shit." whispered Clare.

Emerie opened her eyes wider and suddenly became serious, "Did he cheat on you?" she didn't even give her time to answer, "Because if he cheated on you I'll take a day off and go kill him."

Nesta chuckled, despite everything, "He didn't-" then stopped, thinking that what he had done had been a betrayal anyway. She shook her head.

"That's a start and I can cross the killing off my list," said the friend, offering her a half smile.

Clare seemed as shocked as Amren when she had told her that Cassian wanted to enlist. Nesta felt sick at the idea of having to ruin her day with such sad information and regretted a bit that she had introduced the topic.

Emerie clapped her hands, waking everyone up from that trance they were stuck in, "As much as I love teasers and all that crap there, if you're not going to tell us now we'd better get back to work, because in-" she looked at the clock on the wall, whimpering, "sixteen minutes we have to open and we won't have even a spare second to sort out the last releases."

"Shit," said Nesta all of a sudden, "it's the 12th, isn't it?"

Emerie nodded, completely knocked down by the information.

"I'd say it's time to get to work," murmured Clare.

Without saying a word, they all walked towards the "fantasy young adult" section. They marched as if it was their last hour and were about to be hanged in the square. And it actually was a little bit so, because the last book of the most acclaimed saga would be released and none of the three were ready psychologically to welcome the hordes of people who would enter the store that day.

Clare had thrown worried looks her way all morning and Emerie hadn't offended her more than twice, which was weird, because she never missed an opportunity to toss them insults or make puns.

This was bothering Nesta.

Her mood had even worsened when around noon, Cassian had called and then sent her a message when she had not answered:

"Are you completely insane? Where are you?"

Those words had made her arms itch with anger.

"If you're at work, stay there, I'll pick you up and take you home."

And then again:

"What made you think going out when you were practically dying in pain last night was a good idea? You need to rest and let your body recover."

To that, Nesta had apologized to the client she was serving and sent a quick response:

"Don't you dare come and get me or I swear to god Cassian this is the time I'm going to get seriously mad. I don't want to fight about this too. I woke up, I was fine, I went out. Period."

When he hadn't replied, Nesta had sent another message:

"I need a distraction and I need the money. Don't come."

Cassian sent her a simple, "Alright, sorry. See you." and she went back to work.

She hadn't failed to notice, however, that he hadn't written his usual love you at the end of the message.

Now, Emerie was looking at her with fiery eyes and Clare had stopped eating, one hand in front of her wide open mouth.

"Are you joking?" Emerie seethed with rage.

Nesta shook her head, sighing, "The worst thing is that I can't reason with him."

Clare placed the cutlery in the plastic container, "And his brothers? Az?"

Her colleagues had met the magnificent trio when she had started working at Clare's mother's bookshop soon after her father's death. They needed money and both she and Elain had found a job almost immediately, Elain in a small diner on the same street as their apartment and Nesta in that magical place. Cassian and Azriel used to pass by practically every day she worked to bring her food - considering how many times she forgot to take care of herself because of the mess that was her life - and it didn't take Clare and Emerie more than half a second to realize that there might be something between her and the younger of the two boys. They had had the opportunity to get to know the others in the group during the various birthdays and parties, but they had never had a very close relationship with Rhysand. Probably because she herself had never gotten beyond seeing him as her boyfriend's brother.

Looking at her two best friends at that moment, she realized that whatever she decided to do with Cassian, they would support her, because they were there when it had all started and they would be there when it would end. Whether it was in two days or seventy years.

"Azriel knew it and didn't tell me anything for a month." Nesta confessed, picking at her nails.

Emerie snorted, "That fucker."

"I said the same thing," smiled Nesta, "but he was actually only respecting what Cass demanded and it's not his fault my boyfriend is dumb."

"This may be a low blow, but have you tried calling his mother?" asked Clare, looking more and more upset.

Nesta tilted her head to the side, "I don't know if she knows..." she rubbed her hands on her arms, trying to whip off some of the frost in the room, "And I don't want to be the cause of the heart attack she's going to have in case she doesn't know and I barge into her living room saying 'Hey, help me convince your son not to enlist'."

"Then you really should go and tell her everything," said Emerie, leaning forward on the table, "If she really doesn't know, she might be so shocked that she reacts so strongly and convinces Cassian to give up."

Clare looked at her with her mouth open, "What are you talking about, you pshyco." she muttered.

Nesta nodded, "Yeah, the fuck. I'm not trying to kill Vera."

Emerie seemed offended, "I'm just saying that if she has an excessive reaction-"

"Which would not be excessive for such a thing." mumbled Clare.

"-you might not have to do anything and leave it to the woman to beat him."

Emerie seemed offended, "I'm just saying that if she has an excessive reaction-"

"Which would not be excessive for such a thing." mumbled Clare.

"-you might not have to do anything and leave it to the woman to thrash him."

Nesta stood up, shaking her head and throwing the lunch papers, "No, I'm not going to betray him like that."

Clare was still looking at Emerie as if she had four heads, "Who hurt you?" she whispered, "Like, that's the sickest thing I've ever heard in my life."

Emerie's features softened as always when she addressed their boss, "Right? That's sick!" she exclaimed smiling.

"I didn't mean it like that," said Clare, "I meant that that's literally the best way to completely ruin things with your partner." then she turned to Nesta, "Please don't go to Vera."

Nesta raised a hand, "That was absolutely not my intention." she said, "And what's more, this is still fresh between me and him and we haven't really talked about anything yet," she said.

Emerie interrupted her, "Well, actually you've been fooled with the whole enlistment process explaining. That's the last thing you should have done."

Nesta frowned, "What do you mean?"

"He's probably thinking you've already accepted it. If you only asked about the first part, that means you can discuss the rest later, once he's finished training."

Clare grimaced, "It shouldn't be like this though. And I don't think Cassian thinks Nesta accepted."

Emerie reached out to the girl, touching her arm with a knowing smirk on her lips, "I've read enough romance novels to know the situation is worse than it seems.

Nesta would normally be annoyed that the people in the room were talking about her and their lives as if she wasn't there, but she seriously needed an outside view of all that mess.

"This isn't one of your books, we're talking about Nesta's life," Clare pointed out to her, looking slightly annoyed.

"Fiction mimics reality." she shrugged, then turned to Nesta, "I'm just saying that before talking about what he's going to have to do specifically to get in, you had to discuss what it will all involve." Emerie stared her in the eye, more serious than ever, "The problem Nesta, it's not the present, it's not the fact that he will have to run and eat well for the next two months and that he will have to stay out for two days to do tests on tests. I'm sure you don't give a damn about all the acronyms of names either," said the friend getting up, "The problem will be that you will have to stay months, years, away, when you have been inseparable in the last ten. I don't remember a time when you have been apart for more than three days".

Clare nodded and Nesta' head was starting to hurt.

"You got sick because you spent two days without him while you were thinking about whether or not to leave him. You got sick from the stress." the girl pointed out to her, "And tell me, who took you home? Who took care of you?" she asked, "I'm not trying to hurt you or fight with you, but with everything that's going on right now, you need to sit down and write a list of things you're going to have to start doing on your own. Before he leaves."

Clare squinted, "Em, maybe we should stop-"

"Not because you are not capable or because you are not independent, Nes. We all know very well how strong you are, but there are things, there are daily habits that will have to change completely."

Nesta knew that.

But there were so many things to discuss. So many aspects to see together with Cassian.

She felt a lump in her throat. Emerie had always been cheeky with her and she knew that she was doing it for her own good, that she would tell her everything that any other person was too shy to admit. Or that they took for granted.

But for Nesta at that moment, nothing was taken for granted and she couldn't think of anything.

"And even though he keeps saying it's not a suicide mission, he doesn't know. He can't afford to say things like 'I won't die', 'I'll come back safely, 'nothing will change'. Because it's just bullshit and you can't let him think that," concluded Emerie.

She just wanted to cry. And scream.

"It's difficult." Nesta sighed trembling.

Clare stood up at that point, going over to her and putting her hand on her arm and giving Emerie a stern look. She took a deep breath, "I know, I realize it's not easy, and that's why you have to talk. That's why you can't leave discussions halfway open and not pick them up the next time. If you do that, you convince him that that topic is closed and that you accept it as such."

Nesta bit the inside of her cheek and, ironically, the conversation ended there.

They remained silent for the rest of the lunch break and then Nesta said goodbye to them, having to go to class.

She had not even left the bookstore, that she had already dialed Cassian's number on the phone. It only took two rings before he picked up.

"Hey, sweetheart," he trilled, "everything okay?"

Nesta gritted her teeth, feeling the tears swell in her eyes. She heard Cassian moving on the other side of the phone, "Nes, are you alright?" he sounded worried by the tone of his voice. She closed her eyes, stopping next to her car. She couldn't speak.

"I'm probably talking to myself, but babyy!" he yelled into the microphone, making her flinch. He sighed deeply, and Nesta imagined him as he settled back into bed to rest a few minutes before he went to work too.

The sound of the call ending set her off and with frantic movements she managed to open the car and get into it, driving towards the university. She received a message just as she started driving and didn't allow herself to check what he had written until she was in front of the engineering building.

The text read "Baby did you buttdial me or couldn't I hear you? Anyway, call me if you need anything, love you."

She was about to lose her whole life and heart, wasn't she?

"Buttdialed you. I need to talk to you."

She didn't even had to wait for a reply, the three dots already there the second she pushed 'send'.

"Tomorrow?"

Nesta did not answer, not knowing whether seeing him the next day would be a blessing or a condemnation and thought. And thought.

And thought.

She thought during class and while walking from one lesson to the next.

Was she the one who was in the wrong?

Was Feyre right? Maybe she should have let Cassian's career take its course.

Maybe their relationship didn't start to last. Maybe Nesta would have found someone else.

She parked her car in front of her apartment, seeing that the kitchen lights were on, while the Spacecraft Structures and Mechanisms lesson was playing out in her head.

She dropped her head against the steering wheel, trying to swallow the emotion and not to burst into tears.Couldn't he have waited for her to get her master's degree before dumping this into their lives? She could have handled it much more easily if she hadn't also had the stress of exams. Or maybe not.

The phone rang and Nesta almost screamed for the scare. She grabbed it and saw that it was Feyre and wrinkled her forehead, looking up at the window on the second floor. She saw both sisters looking at her laughing and felt that some of the heaviness she had gathered during the day eased up. She smiled at them, refusing the call and getting out of the car.

The second she entered the home, she was enveloped by the warmth of the small apartment and the smell of what she knew very well was their mother's old macaroni and cheese recipe.

Feyre arrived running in front of her, followed by a festive Elain who appeared shortly afterwards. They were both smiling as if it was Christmas morning and she relaxed even more.

"Are you okay?" asked the little one. She knew it wasn't worry, what she heard in her voice, more the desire to know how her day had gone and Nesta nodded, yawning.

Elain flapped her hands in excitement, "Can we eat now?

She grinned, taking off her jacket and shoes, "I'm going to put on my pajamas, you start without me."

Feyre squeaked with happiness and ran to the kitchen and Nesta was relieved to see her so relaxed. Monday had a completely exhilarating effect on her little sister. Feyre basically only had labs that day and could get completely lost in painting for hours and hours and it was forbidden to use phones in art classrooms, so she wasn't really distracted by calls or messages.

She heard Elain speak loudly and warned her that she had to tell what she had missed the night before at Mor's. When she returned to the kitchen, she sat down and smiled at everything she was told, commenting on each thing with the right calculated expressions and perfect exclamations when needed, but she felt empty, numb.

She went to bed early, saying that she still had to recover from the headache the day before, but when she woke up the next morning, she did not feel better. She didn't feel anything at all.

The conversation she had had with Emerie had upset her and she could not understand why. Her friend hadn't told her anything she didn't already know.

She felt like she was just going through the motions, studying all morning and memorizing stuff on her books and manuals and when she had to leave home after lunch to go to work, she didn't even know who she was anymore.

Tuesday was Emerie's day off thankfully, and at the bookstore was just her, Clare and Matthew, one of the students who, like her, needed some money to get away from home and a temporary job. He and Carlos had been working in the store for so few weeks that Nesta didn't even know their last names and was surprised to be able to remember the boy's name.

Clare had asked her how she felt several times and Nesta had not answered, not even able to speak without risking breaking down completely.

***

"Cassian." murmured Nesta, lying on the sofa, wrapped in a wool blanket. Turning the fabric in her hands she almost smiled, remembering the Christmas when Vera had gifted it to her, "Where are you?"

"I didn't know if you'd want me and I stayed home, but I'll be there in five minutes if you-"

"I need you," she said in an even smaller voice. They were used to spending Tuesday nights at her house watching a movie and when she came home and hadn't found him, there had been a moment of panic when she assumed something bad had happened.

Cassian moved on the other side of the phone, "Nes, I-" he stopped, "I know this is not a good time and there are a lot of things that are upsetting you about this whole situation, but," he took a deep breath and Nesta closed her eyes, resting her head on the armrest of the sofa, "I can feel that you are unwell for other reasons and it hurts me not to be able to do anything about it, so I offer you one thing," he said in a serious voice.

"I just need you here." whispered Nesta, more exhausted than ever, "I'm tired and I'm angry and I need my boyfriend, you don't have to offer me anything, Cass, I just need you to come here and pretend that everything is about to change." Nesta's words broke at the end and she swore faintly, cursing herself for being so compliant when it came to Cassian.

"My offer was the same." he pointed out, "Do you want me to stay on the phone while I come?" he asked her. She heard the sound of keys and a door being slammed and was relieved to learn that he would arrive in less than twenty minutes.

She shook her head, "No, I don't want you on the phone while you're driving, you know it."

"Yeah, I know," he chuckled, "Alright, see you in less than the blink of an eye."

She smiled and the second the call ended, she regretted not accepting his proposal to stay and talk.

She must have fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes, Cassian was kneeling in front of her and was looking at her with a grieving expression on his face and a half smile on his lips. He reached out to her and caressed her cheek, making her breath catch in her throat.

"Hi, sweetheart." he murmured to her.

With strength she didn't know she had, she managed to pull out, "How can you do this?" she asked so quietly that she wasn't sure she had spoken either, "How can you act as if nothing is happening?"

She knew that she wasn't being fair, she knew that she had asked him to come over there and pretend that everything was normal, but the second he saw his eyes, something inside her broke even more.

"Doesn't it weigh on you, at all, that I'm so upset? That I can't think straight and that I feel so numb sometimes that I can't even recognize the reflection in the mirror? My thoughts? And not even a week has gone by." her eyes filled with tears and the smile on his lips was gone, "Because I miss you, Cassian, and-" she sobbed, pushing her face against his hand, "and I love you and I don't want to lose you and everything you're doing now makes me think it's not like that for you. That you don't want me back, that you don't want a life with me."

Cassian stood up, holding out a hand that she didn't hesitate to grab, she sat up and he stood next to her, looking her in the eyes, "Nesta I love you, you are the reason I wake up in the morning." his chin trembled as much as her body, shaken by the crying, "And the fact that you are suffering because of me makes me feel so bad that I can't breathe sometimes, I feel like I could die. And there isn't a day that I don't wake up and think about how much I want an eternal life with you." a lonely tear slipped over his face and Nesta sobbed, her face twisting in a grimace of pain. Cassian put both hands on her face, pushing his forehead against hers, "And I miss you so much. I haven't kissed you in a week and it's like a piece of me is dead."

Nesta tried to speak, but it was difficult in the midst of the sobbing, "And- and how do you think we..." a sound of pain scratched her way up her throat and Cassian wrapped her in his arms, pulling her closer so that she was sitting on his legs. She put her head to his chest, clutching his shirt with her fingers, "How do you think we will be able to go weeks, months, years without seeing each other, without being able to touch the other, if even a week has led to this?" she said exasperated.

Cassian passed a hand over her hair, kissing her temple, "I can't stay here."

Nesta violently detached herself from him, "Why?!"

He didn't answer, he just looked at her, with shiny eyes and a contracted jaw, and she burst into tears even more loudly, "I need you here!"

"I know."

"You need to stay," she shouted.

"I can't," he sighed trembling, "Don't-"

"Yes, yes, you can!" she said, looking at him with exasperation, "You can!"

Cassian nodded once, "Then I don't want to."

Those five words were like a punch to the stomach and dampened her breath. She got up from the couch, from him, and carried a hand to her throat and as if there had been a tap, a switch, the tears stopped flowing, and the pain became such that it no longer existed and for a second, a miserable and useless second, Nesta thought she had found the answer.

She was about to speak, she was about to tell him.

To leave. To never come back.

To stop loving her.

And yet, when she opened her mouth, something completely different came out, "I'm tired." she whispered, completely drained from any emotion. Cassian remained motionless and Nesta's body did not respond as it had always done, it did not react.

Cassian reached out his hand to her, "Come here," he begged her.

He didn't have to repeat it a second time that she was straddling his lap. She bent forward and closed her eyes, breathing his scent, placing a hand on his chest, right above his heart and feeling it beating. When she looked at him, his eyes were black with emotion and darting on her face.

Nesta's mind was screaming.

"I love you." she murmured, staring into his eyes and then, she pressed her lips against his and the sound that burst out of Cassian's chest was devastating. Earth-shuttering as they closed their eyes as they breathed from each other's mouths, while a week of repressed quarrels and rages and pains inflicted by the other were poured into that kiss.

His movements became more frenzied as his hands slid to her hips and pushed her against him and Nesta moaned, or sobbed. She felt the moment when every sorrow, every ache and hope, every memory, broke the surface and the numbness that had accompanied her in the last two days exploded and she began to lose herself.

She felt like she was falling into emptiness and had to break away from Cassian, starting to breathe frantically. Too fast.

Cassian cradled her face, his expression worried expression, "What is it?"

Nesta looked at him with her eyes wide open.

She looked at the wrinkled skin on his forehead and the way his eyebrows were expressive enough to give away any emotion he felt. She looked at his nose, following its contours and at his lips, swollen and red and shiny, moving as he spoke and touched his hair, long and dark and soft and so familiar to the touch.

She was still falling into that void and felt that she was about to lose control over everything. She saw every laugh and every moment of happiness leave her body. She saw every smile that had been aimed at her. She saw the love of her parents and the devastation her father had gone through when her mother had left them. She saw Azriel's smile the first time they spoke and saw the young Feyre and Elain running around in the garden of their childhood home.

It was all slipping through her hands and she was screaming and couldn't grasp any of those memories. She couldn't.

She saw Cassian kneeling in front of her. She saw him smiling with watery eyes as he walked down the aisle and saw him crying as he held a blue puff to his chest.

Everything was slipping away.

"Look at me!"

And Nesta did it. She looked him in the eyes and hit the bottom. She stopped falling and everything that had left her body fell on her with such force that her back bowed.

She kept looking into his eyes while all sorts of emotions swirled there. In that dark, usually light, brown that Nesta had learned to love in all those years.

She was not ready to let him go.

"Nes look at me." he muttered again.

She burst into tears and fell forward, on him, while Cassian stroked her back and whispered to her that everything would be alright.

Nesta didn't know if everything was going to be alright, but as she got up and climbed up the walls of that hole in her mind, as she picked up every good and bad thing that had happened in her life, as she accepted that thing between them, as she reached the top, where Cassian was waiting for her hopefully, she didn't realize that there was something, someone at the bottom. Someone who was trying to scream and get noticed by her.

And the more Nesta cried in Cassian's arms - the more the Nesta in her mind went up and up - the more she lost herself.

Nesta reached the gate, accepting this new challenge that life was presenting her with, without realizing that she was leaving everything she believed in at the bottom of that well.

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ladynestaarcheron · 4 years

Text

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Twenty

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me @rinad307 @superspiritfestival)

i’m back with chapter twenty! this fic is now officially a year old, so thanks to all of you for sticking with me. i love you. also thanks to taylor swift for folklore and illicit affairs which is my new nessian anthem. i love you too, taylor.

enjoy!

---

February 12 - 4 years after

Nesta's nearly out of breath when she knocks on Amorette's door, having practically sprinted from her house. Only half her mind had been present all day with Cassian and Ollie, and then with Avery and Nicky when they came home from nursery. As soon as they had put the children down to sleep, Nesta had told Cassian she was going to see Amorette for an hour or so, given him clear instructions on what to do if Ollie woke up coughing again, and bolted out the door.

Amorette appears almost instantly. "How's Ollie?" she asks, ushering Nesta inside.

"Fine," she says. "We've got a new tonic to give him. The usual, they said, slow development and weaker lungs, but now the healer says it'll even out by the time he's twelve." Nesta calms herself enough to grin-how can she not?

Amorette takes her hand and squeezes it. "That's wonderful, Nesta. What's wrong, then? Here," she adds, handing her a glass of wine.

Nesta downs half of it in one go before saying, "Cassian and I kissed last night."

Amorette's eyes widen. "Oh. Wow."

"Thanks. Anything else to contribute?"

"Well..." Amorette hesitates, then says cautiously, haltingly, "I'm not...quite sure what it is you want me to say."

Nesta tosses her hands up. "Anything other than the downward spiral that's been going around in my mind for the past eighteen hours would be welcome."

Amorette chuckles. "Well...did anyone catch you this time?"

"No, thank all."

"So..." Amorette swirls her wine in her glass. "You're spiralling because...you enjoyed it, I assume?"

Nesta straightens. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nesta," she starts, then stops. Her small lips are set patiently and her blue eyes are gazing thoughtfully at a spot above Nesta's head. "Here's what I think. I think you should let yourself be happy."

Nesta tenses again. "What-"

"Nesta," Amorette says, moving closer to her on the couch and setting a hand on her thigh. "You kissed a male you are bringing up three children with. You liked it. You are bound to no one and nothing else besides the children. You have no blood ties to any land. You have no duties outside motherhood beside what you assign to yourself. You are free. At this point, Nesta, dear, there is nothing stopping you."

Nesta holds her hands tight against her middle. That can't be true, can it?

"Spell it out for me," Amorette says, not unkindly. "It'll help you sort through it all."

Distantly, Nesta nods. She's not looking at Amorette anymore, rather at the tiny details on the teal cushions. "Well, you're going to leave, aren't you?" She doesn't mean to sound so blunt; she's thrilled for and proud of her friend, off to a big Ciyaluck hospital to cure whatever horrible vaginal disease she's currently specializing in.

"I don't know yet. But you shouldn't count on me staying here," she says gently.

"So you're gone," Nesta says, almost to herself. "And then...the shop...we're looking to spread out. So I could be sent...oh, but I don't think that's what I want!" she exclaims.

"What's not what you want?"

"I don't want to leave! And I don't want you to leave, either, but I've got no say in that."

"I wouldn't go that far. You've got some say. I mean, if they ever make a formal offer-"

"When they make a formal offer-"

"I'm definitely going to want your opinion. But continue. You want to stay here."

"Cassian can't stay here, though," she says, the words falling so plainly and simply from her mouth. Amorette has that effect on her. She frowns a little-she's changed so much these past years, hasn't she? And yet, some things are still exactly the same. While she can admit to herself what she wants, she still can't bring herself to do anything about it.

"You want Cassian to stay here?"

"I mean..." Nesta rubs her forehead.

"Paint me a perfect picture," Amorette suggests.

"A perfect picture?" Nesta pauses, but really, she doesn't need to think about it. "You're here to stay. I'm here to stay. The shop is...doing as well as Adil wants it to, but I don't have to do any travel. My children go to school here. They learn to read. My sisters are here. Cassian is here."

"In what capacity?"

"In my capacity," Nesta says, then burns scarlet.

Amorette is patient. "And yourself? Besides being here."

"I'm...under control." She doesn't have to go to the lake anymore, in this perfect picture of hers. The magic inside of her is either gone or permanently dormant. She doesn't have to learn about it and she never worries it will rear its ugly head again.

"Zeyn is married to some nice girl," she adds.

Amorette smiles slightly. "Some nice girl?"

"Someone who makes him happy," she clarifies. Nice girls make people happy. Elain is a nice girl. Perhaps in this fantasy vision where her sisters live here in Sugar Valley, Zeyn falls in love with her. Nesta dwells on this image for a few moments: cheery people, leading peaceful, easy-going lives.

"I think it's time for you to make your feelings clear."

Nesta winces inwardly at the words. "Haven't I been clear enough?" she asks, knowing the answer.

"Evidently not."

What hurts her the most is that to her, her feelings for Zeyn are perhaps the only thing in her mind that is clear right now. Everything else is jumbled up, but with Zeyn, the one person who has always been nothing but good to her, in the most perfect way...

"I know," she mumbles. And it's not fair to him, truly. "I'll talk to him."

"Collect your thoughts," Amorette offers. "Tell me what you're going to say to him."

So she does, thinking all the while that even though this is only one of the two looming dramatic conversations she needs to have, it will still grant her monumental relief when it is over, alongside the inevitable pain.

---

May 16 - 1 year after

Every day of pregnancy seemed to be worse than the last, with every realization that her body seemed less and less like her own accompanied by the truly terrifying thought it would soon somehow expel three people from it, and that she was supposed to find someone or some way to care for these tiny people. Worse still, was the utter cheer of other Sugar Valley residents as they pointed this out to her.

"Won't be long now!" said Leyla, from Sugar Books.

"They can play together!" beamed Classia, a female from Prythian with her own baby.

The worst by far was what Zeyn said to her. "What if you had the babies today? You'd share a birthday!"

Nesta had jerked so hard she spilled some of the isti Zeyn had given her on her hand. "It's-it's too early," she stammered. If only because it wasn't, really; not for triplets.

"Suppose so," he had said, and proceeded to indiscreetly hint at whatever surprise he had planned for the day.

Nesta's birthday was not something that she had ever been fond of in a while. First, it was just one more year without her mother, then her family had lost their fortune and it was another day they couldn't afford to celebrate (though Elain tried-for each of them, every year), and then as a Fae it just felt pointless. What was special about the years passing by if they would never stop?

And this year, of course, she was so spectacularly unenthusiastic about the passage of time, for a myriad of reasons, but it didn't seem as though Zeyn had given her much choice, as he followed her home that day, holding a large bag of food.

How had he even found out about today, she wondered. And who were these guests he was going on about.

"You don't strike me the type who likes a surprise party," he said.

"I am not."

"So it's a dinner! Right here, in your house. You don't even have to go anywhere. And I'll cook! Well, Miri's cooking, too."

Nesta sighed inwardly. "Zeyn, thank you-"

"Don't thank me yet. You haven't seen the cake." He winked at her. "Your pots are this drawer?"

Cake was always good, at least. "On the right."

Nesta tried very hard not to think about her last birthday-and Zeyn did make it easy, regaling her with tales of his own celebrations. And then his "guests" arrived-turning out to be her fellow employees of the shop and her healer, Amorette.

Leyla complimented her on her decor. "I love the red," she said, pointing to the throw pillows Nesta picked out for her new couch.

"Thanks."

"You painted in here," she noted. "Are these all from Sugar Books?" she asked, referring to the slowly-growing collection on Nesta's bookshelves.

"Of course," she said. "Wouldn't want to throw away business elsewhere."

"Gracious," Leyla said. "I actually don't keep so many at home. I just...read whatever I want at the store, you know? Keep more room in the house for my things."

A valid way to live, Nesta thought, for an archivist, but she liked to own books. She never again wanted to live in illiterate squalor.

"Ooh, these are pretty," she said, turning to a set of glass berries she had purchased while visiting a neighboring town with Zeyn.

The rest of the evening mirrored her conversation with Leyla. Pleasant, calm. Not particularly exciting.

It was not what a heroine in a book would strive for, but normalcy was still a luxury. If a quiet dinner party was the most she got, was that really so bad? She had been hungry; starving. She had been unloved and entirely alone. Sharing a potato stew recipe with a neighbor was not one of the adventures she'd dreamed she'd have as a young girl, but having enough was so much more than what she had for a long time.

After her guests had helped clean up and she was putting herself to bed, arranging her pillows to support her head and belly, a few things became clear to her:

The first, Cassian and her sisters were not writing back. In retaliation for her leaving or ignoring them or whatever reason. If it had not happened tonight, it would not happen in the future.

The second, she could not go to Prythian and risk being turned away in person. She would not survive the mortification.

And the third, whether or not the children growing inside her were hers, she still owed them this much: she would not let them ever live as she had in that small village. They would not need to beg. If no one wanted to respond to her reaching out-fine. She was going to stop trying. She could waste her energy on this no longer.

You owe them this, she told herself sternly as she choked back tears.

She would be a model expecting mother, from now until birth.

After that...well, it was anybody's guess.

---

May 16 - year of

It was officially spring in Illyria, and that morning was the first since she arrived that Nesta thought she didn't have to don any outerwear. When she entered the kitchen, she saw Cassian didn't have on his uniform with the thicker sleeves, either-although he was wearing a smirk.

"What?" she asked, scowling.

He shrugged and passed her a glass of orange juice, but his expression didn't change.

"I'm going to be late," she said shortly. Which was not true, but her skin felt too hot at the idea of staying here.

"Have a good day," he called after her. She mumbled something in response.

She tried to dissect the situation logically in her mind. The only way Cassian could know her birthday was if either she or Feyre or Elain had told him. She had not, there could not be more than a sixty-six percent chance of him knowing. Since she wasn't entirely positive Feyre knew her birthday, that lowered it, too. But surely when Elain was brought into the equation, that raised it indisputably, because Elain would never let Nesta have her birthday without a celebration. Then again, she probably would have sent her a gift, or at least another one of her letters, wouldn't she? But Cassian always left them for her on the table, and no new ones had been added in the past week or so. Perhaps she had sent it early? Or Cassian had hid this one? No, they were in a good place; if ever she suspected him of reading her mail, now would not be the time. But what if Cassian had told her sisters she was ignoring their letters...and now they were coming here? Was that why he had smirked at her? Was all of this some-some joke? The rapport they had between them now, was that nothing? After feeling settled here, finally, with a job she actually enjoyed, were they planning on dragging her back to Velaris? Well, she had news for them-

"You know, you look particularly cross today, considering it's your birthday," Emerie said, interrupting her chain of thoughts.

Nesta blinked. "How do you know it's my birthday?"

Emerie shrugged a little. "You're the High Lady's sister. I think it's common knowledge."

Nesta put down her pen. "It is?"

"Yes. I have this chocolate for you. It's got those nuts you like in it." Emerie handed her the blue-wrapped rectangle. "I assume you already have dinner plans."

"Thank you," she said, taking the chocolate gingerly. The same brand Cassian had once given her. "And no. Not that I'm aware of."

Emerie huffed in amusement and rolled her eyes. "All right. Sure."

Nesta whipped around and began busying herself with rearranging some stacks of paper until she was sure the red in her cheeks had disappeared. "I haven't made any plans."

"Romantic dinners are supposed to be a surprise, are they not?"

"There aren't any romantic dinners." Her entire face must be crimson.

"All right," Emerie said again, in the same tone as before.

"Are we investing in swimwear this year?"

"You can leave early, if you want some extra time to get ready," Emerie said, in the closest thing to teasing Nesta had ever heard from her.

She did not stay early. Instead, she stayed as late as she possibly could, until Emerie physically ushered her out of the store.

"Honestly, he's not going to bite you," she said while locking the door behind Nesta.

Of course not. And they ate dinner together all the time-sometimes with Emerie, and sometimes he was away, but most times were just the two of them. That wasn't new. But Nesta had had a whole day to think about what would happen if Elain or Feyre were waiting for her when she arrived, and she didn't like any scenario she imagined.

Though it took her significantly longer than usual, she did force herself to trudge back, craving for the first time in a while a drink.

She steeled herself before she opened the door. She did that slowly, too, letting her shadow fall in before taking a step inside, and watching it lengthen before picking her head up to survey the house.

There were no decorations-no vines of flowers that Elain used to drape or multicolored faelights the people in Prythian used. Wait-there on the table, between two table settings, was one, glowing a pale pink.

"I was beginning to think you had gotten tied up with the new rope," Cassian said.

She turned and looked up at him. "What?"

"Your new rope. At the shop."

"Oh."

"Tied up with the rope. It's a joke."

"Oh...yes. Very funny." Were those new plates? She didn't recognize them. And what was that bottle on the table? It couldn't be champagne. There was no way he would give her any.

Cassian snorted. "You seem really amused. Come sit. I kept the food warm."

She squinted down at the floor when he pulled her chair out for her.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Fine. Thank you," she added, as he ladled some duck onto her plate. Her favorite, the kind he made with the lemon.

"You have nothing to be scared of, you know."

"I'm not scared."

"Sure. That's the face you make when you're comfortable."

She scowled at him before straightening and relaxing into what she hoped was a smile, but at his laugh she guessed was more of a grimace.

"Come on, Nesta, give me some credit. I haven't mentioned anything, have I?" His tone was laughing but the slight crease between his eyes told her he was uncertain.

"I don't mind that it's my birthday," she said, offhand and ever-casual.

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really," she said, pausing to swallow some duck. "I mean. I don't really see the point in birthdays anymore. But it's not...whatever. I don't really care either way."

"Well, if you don't care either way..." he grinned at her. "Humor me, will you?"

She rolled her eyes. "What do you want from me?"

"Minimal to no effort on you part, I promise." He shook his head slightly as he uncorked the bottle of bubbling amber liquid. Nesta caught a whiff as he poured it into two flutes-definitely not alcohol. Far too sweet. But she took it when he handed it to her, albeit hid her smile.

"When I first met you..." he started, then trailed off. "We didn't get off to a good start the first time. Or the second time." His eyes darted around the room a bit before meeting hers again. "I have the Mother to thank for not messing up the middle of my second chance. I know you don't believe in Her, so I'm not sure what it was that convinced you to go along with it, but I thank that too."

Nesta didn't move for the next few moments. Neither did he. They only looked at each other until he started again.

"I'm not sure I know how to quantify in words what these past few months have been, but...I suppose I'm going to have to try-" here he paused to laugh, and her own lips tugged upwards slightly-"so...they have been...wonderfully unexpected." He paused again, opening his mouth a few times before finally saying, "When you're really there...when you don't give up on yourself? You're the most incredible person in the world. And I...am grateful to a lot. For everything. Happy birthday, Nesta," he finished, clinking his glass against hers.

He had it to his lips, tilting his head back, when he paused. "You're not going to drink?" he asked, for she still had not moved.

"It's poor etiquette to drink to one's own toast," she said softly.

"Oh." He put his glass down.

"You can still...drink...if you..."

He was hesitating now, his finger outstretched towards her but still very much on the table. His eyes lowered from hers to her lips back to his glass. He was going to drink now, make her toast to him so she would be allowed to drink, and then he would make fun of her for following the etiquette rules, and that would be the end of it.

The vision of the rest of the night played so vividly in Nesta's mind just then, as he lifted his hand. The night that would play into tomorrow, and the next day, and the next...nice and pleasant and nothing more.

And although she could have sworn on her mother's grave just that morning that birthdays did not matter to her...perhaps that was the reason why tonight, she decided she wanted-more.

So she grabbed his hand before he could touch his glass, and his gaze shifted starkly to her. He opened his mouth to say something, but this time, she was faster, making good use of her inhuman speed for the first time. Standing in front of him while he sat on the chair, they were about the same height. She was even a bit taller. Her left hand was still clutching his right. But her right was on the back of his neck, and before she could lose her nerve, her mouth was on his.

It was chaste, small. Quiet and soft. The same way she might kiss the top of his head.

She opened her eyes before she stepped back, still so close their eyelashes touched.

He wasn't saying anything.

Her mind went blank. It was times like these she envied the Fae and their pantheon, her sister's newfound faith, for she desperately wished she had some higher power to call upon to intervene now.

She drew her hands back to her chest. "I'm...I don't know what came over me," she said-or tried to say. Her voice caught, coming out barely a whisper. "I'm-"

He stood up, nearly knocking the table over. His arm shot out to still his glass before it tipped. She blinked at the sudden movement, and then he was kissing her again.

It was decidedly less chaste this time.

Less chaste, perhaps, but still soft. He held her delicately; very close against him, but his hands were gentle. She almost could not reconcile this tenderness with what she had seen him do in battle. Almost.

Her courage tonight had shocked her, but it was running out. She didn't want to push him any further than he went himself, so she tried to meet him with the same sort of caresses as he was stroking down her back, loosening her hair. But it proved a more difficult task than she could've imagined. How could she not tug his hair when her hand was wrapped in it? How could she not claw at his shoulders, his back, when her nails were quite possibly the only thing that would allow her to stay tethered to this moment? And how could she not lock her leg around his waist in an attempt to hoist herself upwards when she-well-when she wanted to?

Nesta may have been able to, in the right setting, deny her cravings for drink, but this was different. Cassian was sweeter than wine. And his hand fit perfectly against the small of her back...oh, would he not move it? Did he not feel this same rush of heat throughout his body?

Evidently he did not, because just then he broke apart from her, and breathed out, rushed, "That's your souffle."

Nesta blinked. She lowered her leg. "What?"

"The timer. I have a souffle..." He unhooked her arms from around his neck and turned, rather mechanically, to the kitchen.

She rubbed at her forehead. He must have...that wasn't one-sided. It was not. He was just...he just still had the presence of mind to not burn the house down. That was all.

"Here," he said, placing it on the table.

Did he want them to sit back down? Was he serious.

"Bit early for dessert," she said dryly.

"It is not," he said. "You were late for dinner."

"Hm."

He sat down. Nesta wanted to die.

So that was...all right. Fine.

She would just-well. She would. Move. She supposed. She tried to tell herself this calmly. Nothing was wrong. Just-the worst mistake of her life, and she would move in with Emerie. Everything was fine, and she didn't need to rush to her room or outside or slit her own throat-

"Hey, Nesta," he said, interrupting her slippery slope to suicide. "Sit with me." He pulled her chair next to him and yanked her into it.

He threw an arm around her and covered his face with the other. Nesta kept her own folded in her lap, her jaw locked, and her face pointed downwards, so it was a moment before she realized he was shaking with laughter.

"All right," she said angrily, standing up. "I'm-"

"What! Nesta!" He pulled her back, forcing her to look up at him. "Why are you-what's wrong!"

He couldn't even make his voice go up, so overcome with the stupid grin on his face, laughter still lacing his voice. She latched onto her anger the same way she latched onto his shoulders, because otherwise, she would cry. And tonight would not end with Cassian seeing her cry.

"Stop laughing," she snarled.

His eyes widened. His laugh turned surprised. "But I'm happy! Sorry, Nesta, we can't all keep our emotions clean off our face! Not all of us learned how!" He shook his head, still grinning.

Nesta stilled. Her fists relaxed. "You're happy?"

"Are you out of your mind? Of course I'm happy."

She couldn't bring herself to look in his eyes. "Then why did you stop?"

"So that your souffle wouldn't burn."

Was he really as stupid as she first thought he was in her family's estate? "Then why are we sitting at the table?" she said through gritted teeth.

He laughed again. At her this time, she knew it. "Oh, no, sweetheart-look at me. I just...I don't want to mess this up, all right? We don't have the greatest track record. I think it would be better if we went slowly."

They had been going slowly, had they not? And why did slowly have to mean they weren't allowed to have sex, anyway? Why did sex have to be the endgame? And who was he, to make these executive decisions?

"I'm not going to lie to you, I'm thrilled that you seem to hate that."

"Shut up," she snapped.

"Happy birthday. Really. And a happy Wednesday to me. Ouch," he added when she pinched him.

"Hush," she said, but without most of her bite.

He kissed the top of her head. "Happy birthday," he said again, softly.

And it seemed as though it was.

---

February 13 - 4 years after

"Are you absolutely sure?" Adil is asking her.

"Positive," Nesta replies firmly. "Cassian is at home and the healer said there's no reason to expect anything amiss as long as we give Ollie the tonic as she instructed. It's just a few hours in Chokecherry. We'll be back before dinner."

"I can go with Maz," Zeyn says.

Nesta rolls her eyes. "Please. This is important."

Zeyn laughs, but Adil doesn't look any less anxious. "Are you sure?" he asks her again.

"Do you want it in writing?"

"Just-go, then. And...hurry back." Adil gives her an odd look.

Zeyn shakes his head. "Let's go, then," he says, and heads out to meet the carriage.

"Nesta," Adil says, when he is out of earshot. "Do...what's right for you. He can take it." He gives her a short nod before walking away.

Zeyn will take it, she knows. It'll hurt, yes, but ultimately it's not him she's worried about. Nesta knows that someone losing her isn't too bad as she doesn't have so much to offer in the first place. But what is she going to do if she loses Zeyn as a friend?

---

June 12 - year of

Nesta knew she had not had the happiest life, what with her mother dying young, her father all but abandoning her and then dying too, losing her sister twice to the Wall, watching her other sister be violated in the most horrifying way she could imagine and then experiencing the same violation herself...but even if at all had been a walk in a rose garden up until this point, she still thought the past month would've won the title of best of her life.

They had been going as slow as Cassian deemed necessary, yes, but even then, it was still a high she had not ever experienced. While their tentative friendship had included spending most of their downtime together, the ante had been upped considerably. Cassian was now always sitting next to her, always touching her. He was not always talking, but he was certainly talking a lot. About everything. The trace memories of his mothers (in such detail she felt they were her own), meeting Rhys for the first time (she took great joy in knowing Cassian had loathed him at one point), and, consistently spurring an onslaught of emotion she was never sure she enjoyed or not, her. About her hair and her skin and her hips (a rather lot about her hips, actually), and about things she did that she didn't think there was anything to note.

"I love when you're preparing to flip a page in your book," he had said to her laughingly one night.

"What?"

"Like when you're still reading that page-" he punctuated this with a point at her book "-but you can't stand the wait of the second it takes you to flip the page, so you start lifting it as you're finishing reading it, so you can start the next page immediately after finishing that one."

She rolled her eyes, but she no longer fought to hide when her face flushed around him.

Nights had been spent separately, at first. But towards the end of May, he had gone for a short trip to Velaris, and when he had come back, they had started sleeping in the same bed.

She hadn't expected him to come home in the middle of the night. He never had before. So when he had been gone two days, she figured he would be there tomorrow afternoon. But she still missed him, missed his scent, and she didn't see the harm in sleeping in his bed

He woke her up when he came back that night, just past three.

"I missed you too," he whispered. "So I left as soon as I could."

She meant to say You didn't have to do that or Don't be ridiculous but instead she had only mumbled "good" and fallen back asleep against him, to the sound of his low chuckle.

There was no sex yet, to her eternal disappointment, but still. A girl could do worse than sleeping next to Cassian every night.

In mid-June, when they come back from another trip to a neighboring camp-he told her nobody terrified the lords like she did-Emerie was waiting for her at the shop, a slight smirk on her face.

Nesta glared to keep from blushing. Emerie had walked in on her and Cassian in the supply closet last week, and-well.

"How was your mission, Lieutenant?"

"It wasn't a mission. I'm no one's lieutenant. We should mark these coats down. People will still buy last season's coats in June if they're marked down."

"Well, either you're his lieutenant on official Night Court Military business or he just made up a reason to bring you along."

"Do you want your shop to go under or not? Mark these down," she snapped.

But Emerie only laughed. Really laughed. Emerie. "It's good to see you like this."

"I'm not like anything."

"Sorry. Could've sworn you were happy."

Nesta only made a show of rifling through some papers.

Emerie rolled her eyes and gathered the coats out of the closet. "You seemed happy when I found you in here last week," she said under her breath.

Nesta jerked her head up. She was never going to live that down.

---

June 1 - year after

Two weeks after her vow to herself and her unborn children, Nesta was deeply regretting it.

Her due date was rapidly approaching-Amorette guessed the second week of July at the very latest-and her body was not up to the task.

"It's not that you're not strong enough," Amorette had insisted. "It's that your body knows to focus on what matters. What matters right now is preparing yourself for labor."

So other things were deemed inconsequential by Nesta's body-like walking, apparently.

Bed rest. From now till labor.

She was allowed to go to the kitchen and spend a grand total of thirty minutes outside each day, but other than that, she wasn't to move. And Amorette checked up on her.

And so did Zeyn. Sometimes bringing along Miri or Leyla, sometimes joined by Adil, but he was there. Every day, without fail.

He brought her new books to work on from her bed, and sometimes things to read. He told her he didn't want her standing up to cook so he prepared meals for her and brought them to her bed. He never failed to offer her a back rub or to draw a bath.

Nesta wasn't stupidly argumentative. If her healer told her she needed bedrest, she would go on bedrest. But some of the protective measures were ridiculous-if she felt okay standing up, didn't that mean she was allowed to?

"You always say to listen to my body," Nesta complained to Amorette during one home visit.

"Well, normally your body speaks your language. You listen to me for now. Next pregnancy you'll know what to do."

"You take that back," Nesta snapped as Amorette laughed.

"You have a taker, at any rate."

She didn't answer. Yes, it was painfully obvious now, Zeyn's feelings for her. She was almost embarrassed to be accepting his help so brazenly, but what else was she supposed to do when she was all but forbidden to move and he carried plates of roasted squash to her room?

He had tried to bring up the subject of the children's father and she had firmly steered the conversation away. She was by no means ready to discuss that. But perhaps that would help...make it clear where her feelings were.

In the meantime...she felt devious doing so, and cruel, but she let him sit by her. She tried to make herself as unappealing as possible-although how she looked right now should have done it-but she didn't want to be...well...mean. She was naturally short-tempered enough that some of it came naturally to her.

Everyone who had liked Nesta prior to Sugar Valley had had to work at it. What was in the water here that made her attractive to these people? Perhaps it was the jam.

---

February 13 - 4 years after

Neither Nesta nor Zeyn are pleased to see that Chokecherry's bookstore is doing well, but they do take solace in the fact that their newest publication isn't selling as much as they had clearly expected it to, judging by the marketing all around the town. Zeyn even manages to chat up a local author and slip them Sugar Books' card.

He comes back to sit with her on a bench. She hands him a sandwich she bought him.

"Guess we have to go back now," he says. "Kind of a shame. I'd like to spend the night here, actually. Maz told me they have a diner here with a breakfast better than Jamal's."

Nesta supposes that's as good an opportunity to segue as she'll get. "Maybe...you should stay here."

"Oh, calm down. I'm not saying their diners are better than ours."

"No," she says, swallowing, "that's not what I mean. I mean...I need you to understand, Zeyn, that when we go back to Sugar Valley...we're not going together."

His smile falters. "You're going somewhere else?"

"No." If she dropped dead she wouldn't have to have this conversation, right? But Zeyn deserves better, she reminds herself, and so she forces herself to continue. "Zeyn. When I came here...you saved my life."

He stills. He's not smiling anymore.

"You never stopped being lovely, right from the beginning. Even when I wasn't. And as if that wasn't enough, all your kindness when I arrived and your incredible generosity during my pregnancy...you were everything with the children. You-" Nesta stops to catch her breath. She sees Zeyn's eyes start to fill with tears and she can feel some pricking in her own. "Everyday I could tell myself if I wasn't good enough, they would still have you and Miri and Adil. You're their family. You'll always be the first male they ever loved.

"And I have...bastardized that. Because of my own cowardice. You found the strength to give everything to a bitter, pregnant female, and then her children, every day for three years...and I could never find the nerve to tell you what you deserve to know. I-I'm not in love with you, Zeyn." She sobbed a little, but forced herself to maintain eye contact with him. "I never will be. I'm sorry. You're-it's not-you're the most wonderful, greatest-"

"Please don't," he says immediately, voice hoarse. "Please don't-don't tell me I'm the greatest right now."

She wipes at her eyes. "I...suppose that's fair." She pauses to catch her breath. "Can I-can I tell you that I love you and that I want you to be happy?"

He manages a laugh. "Of course."

"And...I'm sorry."

"No. Don't."

"I would..." Nesta stops to take a shaky breath. "People get what they deserve in this world. There's a balance. That's what your Cauldron says."

"Yes."

"So one day...I swear to you, Zeyn, you're going to have someone just perfect for you."

"Nesta..."

"I've been to more places than you, right? It's a really big world out there. She's there. And I swear to you...when you have children...I'll try and give them everything you gave mine."

There is silence except for Nesta's muffled cries for an unbearable two minutes. Then Zeyn says softly, "They...I always loved them as I would my own."

"Please don't stop."

"Of course I won't!" He looks at her, appalled.

"I didn't mean that you would," she says hurriedly. "Just-I don't want you to." How best to phrase this? "I know...you might need time. But...I'll be here when you're ready."

Zeyn laughs bitterly. She's never heard him like that before. "That's what I told myself when I first fell in love with you."

Another tear slips down Nesta's face. He really is so good. She really does not-she would not be right for him! Even if Cassian had never come back!

"I'll go now, then," she says quietly, and stands up to leave.

He doesn't call her back and she doesn't turn.

Nesta doesn't pray much. She doesn't see the point-the Cauldron hated her, so if indeed it is the product of some omniscient Mother, shouldn't She as well? But in that moment, Nesta knows there's nothing she wouldn't beg to grant Zeyn peace, and a friendship with him again one day.

---

Chapter Twenty-one

#nessian au #nesta archeron #cassian #actoar #never know what to tag this as #PLEASE tell me your thoughts #i'm dying here #thoughts on folklore and thoughts on this chapter #SPOILERS IN THE TAG AHEAD DO NOT READ BEFORE READING THE CHAPTER!#SPOILERS IN THIS HERE TAG that was my first time writing a kissing scene! was it good?#it was so hard to write!!#come talk to me people<3

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