#seeing Nesta as somehow on this other level

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 3: The Archeron Sisters

Summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know. 

Chapter Summary: Feyre remembers something from her childhood right before she visits her sisters for the first time after being Made.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

“Feyre!” A six year old Elain chased after her sister. Feyre had spilled the coloured water she was using for her most recent painting and that too on Elain’s very new dress. The fabric of which was brought home for Elain as a birthday present for her seventh birthday, two months after the twins' birthday. The twins' new dresses were ready and dear little Feyre had just turned five.

Feyre laughed as she ran, escaping Elain easily. Her sister’s heavy skirts and her own lighter ones gave her a good advantage. Their father had brought new colours from the continent for her and she had started painting immediately.

Since she and Elain never had any lessons like their older sisters did, they were free to enjoy their gifts. Their father had resumed his travels. Their grandmother had been busy with her lessons for their older sisters. And their mother was occupied with something. Or so they thought.

“Feyre!” The sharp voice of their mother had the sisters stopping on their tracks. 

Their mother was a lady whose frown was often her most prominent feature. It eclipsed every jewellery, every silk that their father had brought for them from his travels. In his absence, their mother and her mother ruled the Archeron household with an iron fist.

While their mother busied herself with parties and other invitations and hosted her own grand soirees, their grandmother took notice of the four daughters. The old lady decided that discipline had to be enforced and had invited herself into their household. 

Feyre’s laughs died down and so did her energy. Elain slowly reached Feyre and held her shoulders. The youngest had paint all over her face, skirts, hands and that was enough to earn her mother’s ire. Their mother knelt down to meet the sisters at their eye level and gave the youngest one tight slap to the cheek. Tears pooled in both the children’s eyes and Feyre turned around to hug Elain. 

“A lady does not run around the house. Does not ruin her appearance with paint. Am I clear?” 

Feyre continued to sob into Elain’s shoulder. Their mother was a... she did not know the correct word back then. More than a decade later, a discussion between the four sisters would reveal that the appropriate words to describe their mother would probably be a stuck-up bitch.

“Am I clear?!” Their mother had repeated her question louder, fury evident in her glare that would probably turn them to dust.

“Yes, mother.” Feyre managed to give her reply between sobs in fear of another slap. 

“What is all this fuss?” The voice of their grandmother had somehow frozen the children. The mother and her younger daughters turned to look at the old lady who had come out of the nearest room upon being disturbed. Nyra and Nesta stood by their grandmother’s side, thoroughly afraid for their sisters because the old lady was furious and she was now holding a cane. 

“Feyre was running down the hall.” Her mother was indeed a cruel woman but Feyre could not escape the feeling that this old lady was worse. Time and again, Nyra had warned her to see this woman as less as possible and to talk even lesser as possible.

“Is that so?” The old lady walked up to Feyre and looked at the girl clutching Elain like a lifeline. “Come forward, girl.” Feyre obeyed, fear enveloping every inch of her being. 

“Why were you running?” The old lady had asked a very simple question but her eyes gave away who she was. A bigger monster than their mother. 

In fear of her wrath, Feyre dutifully answered. “I spilled coloured water on Elain’s dress, Grandmamma.”

“And were you chasing her?” The grandmother turned to Elain who nodded silently. “Answer me!” The grandmother’s louder voice had Elain saying a ‘yes’ in a meek voice. 

The grandmother then turned to their mother. “It seems both of them are at fault and you punished only one,” She looked at Elain once more. “Show your hand.” 

A trembling Elain showed her hand, the palm facing the ceiling. It would have been a happy sight if the old lady was a loving grandmother asking her granddaughter to show her hands to give her candy. But this old lady did not have an ounce of love. She had a cane. And with one quick movement, the cane struck Elain’s palm. Feyre clutched Elain’s dress with a hand from the behind. The limb that connected her to Elain received a strike at the arm. Feyre’s tears flowed freely. 

“Release her if you do not want another strike.” Feyre was quick to let go of Elain. The grandmother looked at the younger sister in disgust. She then turned to the older ones and issued a command. “Take them away.”

Nyra and Nesta quietly walked over, took their sisters by the hand and quickly walked away. As they walked away, the conversation between their mother and grandmother began. Something related to the twins’ dance lessons.

It was then that Feyre and Elain noticed that their sisters had been subject to that cane too. They headed straight to Nyra’s room where it was decided that all of them would spend the night. No separate rooms tonight. Just one bed for the sisters. 

They locked the room and rushed to the bathing chamber. With whatever strength they wielded with their fingers, the twins took the large bowl of water used for washing the face and set in on the floor. Feyre and Elain were still too short to reach it on the table without a stool which Nyra’s room did not have. 

“Come here, you two.” Nesta called out. Her tone was kind and not haughty for once. It was because all of them had been struck today. Nesta and Elain dipped their hands in the water slowly. Nyra took out two pieces of clean cloth and dipped it in the cold water. She folded it and then turned to Feyre.

“Show me your arm.” Feyre obeyed. Nyra pushed up the sleeve as gently as she could, trying to avoid any pain for Feyre. She has failed since the youngest has clearly winced a couple of times. She placed one cloth to the part on the arm where the cane has struck. The other she extended to Feyre. “Hold it to your cheek.” 

Feyre did as told. Nyra then put her hand into the water and all of them simply stared at the hands in the water. Nesta’s hand was red the most. The lines of the cane were too prominent. The skin had torn at one part and it was bleeding and Feyre wondered whether it would scar. From the expression Nesta wore, she too probably wondered the same thing. 

Elain was the first to let out a sob. Nesta, who sat with her twin on one side and Elain on the other, gently wiped her tears away. Feyre started crying after watching Elain. She looked at Nyra who motioned for her to come closer. And even with her hands in the water, Feyre could feel the concern of her sisters as she crawled next to Nyra and laid her head on her lap. Elain set her head on Nesta’s shoulder and the twins looked at each other. 

After a while when the pain had reduced to tolerable levels, the sisters exited the bathing room. Nyra and Nesta headed over to the former’s wardrobe to find nightgowns for the four of them. They helped each other change clothes and then went over to their younger sisters.

After the younger two had been put to bed, the older ones lied down on either side of the bed. Feyre turned to Nyra. As much as she wanted to speak, she couldn’t. In the darkness of the night after all candles were blown, Feyre felt like Nyra was awake and distant. She snuggled closer to Nyra and closed her eyes.

That day, Feyre learned that their grandmother was a cruel woman. A woman who used any excuse to enforce discipline, as she called it, on the twins. She used every excuse, took every fault she found and enforced that discipline with a cane. A few days later, a mysterious illness had affected Nyra. A few days later, very conveniently, their grandmother had passed away. And none of the sisters mourned her. 

****

Feyre shook her head. That was not a good memory and she did not understand why she remembered it. 

“You ought to practice shielding your mind more often.” Rhysand’s words made her realise that he had probably seen that memory. She was tired right now. Not in the mood to advocate for privacy of her mind or anything. 

“Why is it that we need to put effort to remember the good things in life but the bad things are always there, waiting for anything and everything to push it into the forefront of our mind?” Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel were surprised. The High Lord looked straight at the female while his brothers looked at each other and then at Feyre. 

“I wish I knew, Feyre darling.” Rhysand replied, his voice cracking the slightest. Maybe his own bad memories had surfaced at Feyre’s words which might have acted as a trigger. She looked at Cassian and Azriel who were now lost in their own thoughts. 

“I’m going.” She announced, gathering their attention. Once they were ready and alert, Rhys nodded at her once. Feyre stepped out of the glamour surrounding them and made her way to the Archeron estate.

****

Feyre had been invited in by Elain. When Nesta came down they had gone to the drawing room where she told her sisters her story. After Elain convinced Nesta to allow the meeting to be held in their home, she stood up and left the room to order the servants away.

It was then that Elain realised that in order to order them away a bit more convincingly, she would need money. That would mean she would have to talk to Nyra. They did not call her down since Nesta had just left the room after ensuring that her twin had taken all her medicines and was comfortably tucked into bed. But now, Nyra needed to be awakened. 

“Nyra.” Elain knocked her sister’s door once. She knew her older sister was not asleep. Nyra had a habit of reading before she fell asleep. 

“Come in.” Elain opened the door and walked over to Nyra. Her sister lay on the bed, the blankets covering her stomach and downwards. She held a book in her hands and three candles on a candle stand to light up the room just enough for reading. 

For a second, Elain stood by the door and admired the health blooming from within Nyra. The medicines were taking effect. There was now a glow that captivated Elain. She was now able to walk around the house, stay awake for a longer time. Her headaches were less and lesser. She was even out in charge of handling their father’s accounts in his absence. Which is exactly why Elain needed her to be awake right now.

“I need your help.” The urgency in her voice had Nyra closing her book and keeping it aside. 

“What happened?” She sat up properly on the bed, ready to get up if needed. 

“It’s a long story. Feyre’s back. She has been reborn into fae. And we need to send the servants away.” Elain was now walking over to her wardrobe. She opened it and pulled out a thick grey robe that reached the floor and a shawl. The older sister understood that she definitely needed to get up.

Nyra pulled away her blankets and wore her slippers. She stood up and Elain was already by her side, ready to help her wear the robe. “There is a meeting Nesta has agreed to host. A meeting between fae and the Queens of the Realm. A war looms over us humans and the fae and this mating is pertinent for building alliances. And I was thinking, if we need to send the servants away, a little money would make it easy to convince them.” 

“All right.” Nyra and Elain left the bedroom. “Bring the servants to father’s office. I’ll prepare their wages.” Elain nodded and they parted ways. Within the next two hours, they had managed to send the servants away with their wages and a generous bonus. 

“Give me a few minutes to record the payments. You can go join them in the drawing room.” Nyra was already sitting on their father's chair. She had begun recording the payments and only a few more left. She knew that they were at the drawing room for now.

In a complete hurry, Elain headed to the drawing room where Feyre and Nesta were sitting in awkward silence. Once she conveyed the news about the departure of the servants, Feyre took her leave to bring in her companions from the Night Court. 

Elain then looked at Nesta. “I told Nyra only the gist of this. She doesn’t know the complete story.” 

“That is fine.” Nesta nodded at her and then sighed. “We shall fill her in when she comes. Where is she anyway?” 

“Recording the payment of wages.” Nesta nodded again in understanding. 

A few minutes later, three fae had entered the house with Feyre leading them in. While the youngest sister was impressed that Elain hadn’t fainted and Nesta hadn’t hissed at the males, she was still wondering where Nyra was. She scented the fear and apprehension, heard their thundering heartbeats, saw how Nesta took a step in front of Elain as if she could actually protect her against fae. 

“My sisters, Nesta and Elain Archeron.” Feyre’s introduction of her sisters did not make the awkwardness any lesser. And even when she introduced the males to her sisters, it seemed that the awkwardness had increased. Probably because Rhys was putting on a carefully crafted performance, and Cassian was uncharacteristically quiet, and Azriel was more than ready to be a shadow himself.

Nesta said something about dinner and then proceeded to lead them to the dining room. She stood between the seat at the head of the table and one at the left and watched as the others occupy the remaining seats. To her left sat Elain and beyond, Cassian. Feyre took the seat opposite to her, then Rhysand and then Azriel. 

“Where is Nyra?” The males became a bit more alert at the mention of this sister. Feyre was now becoming worried. Had something happened to Nyra in her absence?

It was then that Nesta remembered that Nyra did not know about the change in location from the drawing room to the dining room. And that she did not know about the three additional visitors. Nesta looked at her for a second before replying. “I’ll be back.” Feyre nodded. 

Nesta had taken three steps and had reached right ahead of Cassian’s seat when the door opened and the last of the sisters emerged. 

****

[lovemyromance]

Stop Kicking Elain out of the NC

She doesn't want to go. She doesn't want to leave her family. The cauldron turning her into high fae was unfortunate, but in typical Elain fashion (my favorite quality of hers) she made the best of a terrible situation and adapted to her new home, her new body, her new life. She has friends. She glows with health. She is mending the relationship with her sisters. The male she loves is there.

Why would she want to leave?

And if anyone brings up the fact that Cassian said she couldn't pull off a black dress - I swear to god I'll be convinced you've never read a book before. Cassian, the Miranda Priestley of Velaris, declaring Elain doesn't look good in black does not mean she is being rejected by the Night Court.

Do people not read? Did you not read how Nesta had to stand out to be Eris-bait, and if Elain, gorgeous, sweet, with beauty-that-could-bring-a-king-to-his-knees Elain was done up like the rest of them, the chances of Eris following after Nesta would have been slim? They had to make her look muted, to purposefully fade her into the background. That is ALL.

Now let's get into the even worse arguments for booting Elain out of the NC. Specifically,

She belongs in Spring (with Lucien)

She belongs in Day (with Lucien)

She belongs in Autumn (with Lucien)

Do you see what all those have in common (other than being surface level awful arguments)? They all center around Lucien. Who currently, Elain avoids like the plague. But I'm getting ahead of myself, lets go one by one, slow and steady:

Elain does NOT belong in spring

Why is this a thing, even? Because she likes flowers and Feyre said "oh elain would like it here?" That's it? Are we reducing people down to their hobbies now? Nesta likes books, should she also move to Day? Mor likes...wine I guess, should she move into a tavern? Amren likes puzzles, ship her to Dawn? Azriel likes Elain, let's put him in the Prison??

Or, oh wait, Tamlin should lose his court and Elain and Lucien will rule? How. Genuinely, how? Lucien is already an heir to Day Court & Autumn Court. How would the magic pick him of all people if Tamlin somehow dies/gives up his court? Wouldn't it pick someone...of Spring Court descent?

P.S Flowers also grow in the Night Court.

Make it make sense.

2. Elain does NOT belong in Day

First of all, right now, nobody knows about Lucien's parentage except for Feyre/Rhys and LoA (maybe). Helion doesn't know. Lucien himself does not know.

For Lucien to become high lord of Day, y'all realize Helion would have to die, right? Why would you ever kill off such an icon? And even if he just casually lives there while Helion still rules...a lot of things would have to happen for this to occur, like: Lucien's parentage is revealed, Helion accepts him as his heir, likely a blood duel between Beron/Helion over LoA, If Beron wins THEN Lucien becomes HL of Day, but if Helion wins then Eris becomes HL of Autumn...all of this would have to be covered in one book before they can even think about moving to Day and living happily ever after. You know, if Elain ever actually gives him the time of...day.

Don't even give me the "but Elain needs sunlight"!!

P.S. The NC also gets sunlight

Elain is not a plant. She does not undergo photosynthesis and need to go to the Day Court to physically be alive. Elain does not need light she IS the light. What's not clicking folks? Her name literally means LIGHT. Some variations say fawn/deer, but mainly she is light.

3. Elain does NOT belong in Autumn

This argument is more rare, but I don't understand it either. Why would she go live in Autumn as the reluctant mate to the 7th son of the awful Autumn HL? Autumn court cannot be this interesting to y'all, that you would be totally okay with not hearing from feyre/rhys/nesta/cassian/any of the IC, just to read a story about Elain avoiding Lucien in different climate/setting? Autumn exists in the NC too, you guys. She can ignore him when the leaves change color there, just as much.

And all of this, is only centered around Lucien. Because if you just asked this sweet flower child what she wanted, I can guarantee you, her answer would be to stay right where she is: home.

If she weren't mated to Lucien, would you still be sending her away to Spring/Day/Autumn?

This isn't even a ship thing at this point, like...Lucien doesn't currently have a home right now? Why are we tearing Elain away from her home to go live with a mate she does not want? If Elucien ever did get together, it would make so much more sense for Lucien to just move to the NC instead. Because Elain sure as hell is not going to live in her ex-fiance's manor, far away from her sisters, with a mate she didn't ask for and his rude bestie who literally made a r*pe joke about her (yeah, not understanding the Jurian & Lucien friendship here either).

Stop kicking my girlie out of the night court. She's staying where she belongs. If she leaves, it will be her choice. Not because her mate lives somewhere else. Not because she likes flowers. If she stays, it will be because that is her choice.

I thought it was obvious.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 12 - You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be

He wanted to help. Was desperate to help. The need to be close, to pull her out of the depression she was drowning in, was slowly killing him. Azriel could think of nothing else except her. Nothing except the pain she was in.

He swung like a pendulum between pleading at the door or hammering on it when his frustrations overwhelmed his sense. No matter how wrong he felt each time, Azriel could not stop himself. The desire to rescue her from her perceived nightmare plagued him. There would be moments of clarity where Azriel would realise that he was too intense, that his care would overwhelm her, and he’d pull back. He’d sit on the roof, circle the house in flight, then return slightly calmer.  

Although she did leave the bedroom, somehow Nesta evaded him. Night after night, she slipped past him as easy as a wraith.

Nesta would not allow him to see her, but she accepted some care. Even if she did not know it was from him. The clothes that Mor had scavenged for the sisters were completely wrong. Mor’s cast-offs wouldn’t suit either sister, and he doubted Nesta’s chest would fit in them. He had spent a painfully long-time in Velaris’ boutiques. In his five-hundred years of life, they were places that he had strode past without ever sparing a glance to the interior. Azriel had not known there were so many options from necklines to sleeves to hems to buttons to ribbons. He agonised over material, colours, and patterns in an attempt to match the sorts of gowns Nesta had worn in the mortal lands. For Elain, he was far less picky. Still, both females had a basket of clothing left outside of their door. As well as gowns, Azriel had found undergarments, shawls, and lighter, summer dresses. Shoes were more difficult so he’d purchased a range of sizes and styles, hoping at least one pair would be suitable.

Sure enough, on the night that he left them by the door, they were gone by the morning.

It was not just clothes either. His speciality was camp slops, but for Nesta, Azriel tried to cook something more substantial – or at least edible. Cerridwen and Nuala flitted around him, offering conflicting advice. One called for more garlic, the other claimed there was already too much. They helped him to produce meals that he left in the kitchen ready to be heated.

The food in the kitchen was nibbled at. The level of the soup went downwards. It was never a massive amount of food gone, but something at least. So, then he began flying to the bakery and amassing a variety of sweet foods too. He’d rather that they ate even if it was all sugar and cream.

And Azriel still could not understand how the hell she was slipping past him every night.

Because he was a stubborn bastard, he’d stayed awake during the nights as if to catch her when she emerged. But she didn’t emerge. When he conceded defeat and sleep stole him from this realm, he’d wake to find that Nesta had crept out while he slept. It did not matter if it was night or noon, Nesta always seemed to know the instant that he fell asleep. She’d creep around at night, at day, always avoiding him, always slipping past him.

‘Are you doing this?’

The shadows that had been fighting each other beside him on the floor outside of Nesta’s room froze.

‘Are you helping her?’

They swarmed to him, brushing against his skin with their cool touch as if to say that he was their only master. Azriel had not sent his shadows in to spy on them although they had tried. He had been the one to pull them back and ban it. It was tempting. If there had been no signs of life, Azriel would have kicked down the door, but since Nesta did not appear to be in immediate danger, he would wait. He would wait and wait and wait until she was ready.

The bond tugged painfully at his ribs. How much of his devotion was due to that? Would he still be here day after day if the bond did not summon him to her side?

The others had appeared – except Cassian who was not able to fly yet – to do a cursory check. They were surprised to find him there, holding his vigil. Azriel said nothing of it. They knew him well enough to know that the guilt for not protecting the sisters was his reason to be there, but not the only one. A mate was a sacred thing that Azriel had never dreamed of having. Never did he think the Mother would choose him for another. And now that he had a mate, he did not want to think of the bond at all. Nesta needed to love him for his character, not because the Cauldron forced her. If she knew the same creation that had warped her into something she hated had paired them together, she would reject him. Azriel was desperate to prove to her that he could be somebody to love, somebody who would care for her, that he was not rotten and broken inside.

‘Please,’ he whispered, not knowing who his plea was for.

He was mindful not to ever make a lot of noise. If the sisters could hear noise at such an amplified level then they were likely able to hear even his heart beat.

Azriel stopped in his tracks.

That absolute madam. That clever, wonderful madam.

Now, Azriel knew exactly how Nesta was seemingly moving in synchronisation with his sleep. She could hear his heart, could identify the change in his consciousness to know the exact moment that he fell asleep. It was so cunning that Azriel was proud of Nesta. He was also kicking himself that it had taken eight days for him to work it out.

All those hours that he’d sat straight-backed pushing away fatigue thinking that he’d catch her the instant that she emerged. It had been a game of cat and mouse – but the mouse had outwitted him. How many times had Nesta tip-toed over his slumbering form to get to the kitchen?

His delight that he had figured out her scheme soon shifted to panic. Azriel functioned on minimal sleep; it was the way he had always been. It was not healthy for Nesta to stay awake until dawn was creeping in the sky.

Azriel sat on the roof, staring out across the city. The spring day meant that even the Illyrian Mountains were visible on the horizon. Their snow-capped peaks called to him. However bruised his heart was when it came to his people, Illyria - the land itself – always summoned him home. For once, Azriel dreamed of being there, in a quiet corner of paradise, where Nesta could exist in peace. The thought burrowed into his chest making the tug of the bond ease slightly. It was a promise of a future that he was desperate to have for his own.

Nesta would not let him in. Azriel could continue to tread softly, leaving packages beside her door in exchange for dirty laundry, preparing meals for her in the kitchen, but she was stubborn and hurting. Locking herself in the rooms would do no good.

He pressed his lips together, wondering how to manages this. If Azriel pushed too far, he risked her snapping. Without pushing, they’d be stuck in this loop until Feyre returned.

No, it was time for Azriel to do what was necessary. As her mate, he knew what Nesta needed.

***

Once again, a soup had been prepared in the kitchen. The bread was improving too; this one had seeds kneaded into it.

If only Elain would eat more than a couple of spoons.

Nesta perched on a chair pulled close to the edge of the bed. This room had been assigned to Elain, but Nesta would not leave her alone.

‘Please, another spoon, Elain.’

Elain’s eyes shuttered closed again as if that would block Nesta’s voice.

‘You need to eat.’

That had pushed too far. It did not take much these days to force Elain over the edge. She rolled over, pulling the blankets up past her head to hide from the world.

Nesta held back her tears until the bathroom where she could cry undisturbed – not that Elain ever stirred. Her sleeps came often and deeply, not waking for anything unless she decided to.

She returned to the bedroom where she forced herself to eat the rest of the now-cold vegetable soup.

What a life that had landed in her lap. Had the village discovered their absence? Were they worried over them? Nesta wondered if word had been sent to her father in Niva that all three of his daughters had irrevocably changed into something worse.

Part of her wanted to break out of the room to demand answers, but the fear of what she was trapped her in this wretched place.

After sitting beside Elain and stroking her brown locks as she slept – all she did was sleep – Nesta returned to the bathroom to wash out her bowl.

At the sound of the door handle rattling, she stilled for a moment. Nobody had tried to do that in a few days, but Nesta was militant at double-checking the lock when she returned to the bedroom.

She turned back to the tap, poised to twist the brass handle when her blood stilled. The unmistakable sound of the key scraping against the lock had Nesta abandoning the bowl in the sink and racing towards the bedroom door.

Shadows wrapped themselves around the thin key. Those traitorous, little bastards.

The door flew open and Nesta flung herself at the wood, both hands outstretched.

A foot shot out, blocking the door from shutting.

Nesta pressed herself against it, ramming the door with all of her strength.

An arm pushed itself through the gap, gripping the edge of the door.

Her feet skidded along the floor as Azriel forced his way into Elain’s bedroom.

‘Get out!’

More of his body pushed through.

She spat the same words at him again and again to no avail.

When Azriel stood in the bedroom, it snapped something in her. Nesta hit at his chest until her palms stung from the effort.

He seized her wrists in an attempt to subdue her, but she booted his shins. The fight that had deserted her on the worst night of her life finally ignited. There was a tussle where Nesta used any free limbs to attack Azriel while he let her.

Then he span her around and crushed his body to hers, knocking the wind from her chest. His heart throbbed against her back. Nesta tried to break free of his hold but the man was too strong. Her arms were clamped at her side, his locked around her.

‘Get out,’ she hissed again.

Nesta lurched forwards, hoping to throw him off. Azriel remained curved against her, following her movements. She was acutely aware of his strong body pressing into hers and his heavy exhales against her ear.

‘This is a tomb.’

One hand locked onto her chin to turn her head towards the window. Nesta had drawn the heavy, velvet curtains on that first night and had not opened them since. It was too bright for Elain.

He forced her to look at the bedsheets covering the large vanity. It was too painful to see what she had become. Nesta was all gangly limbs and pointed ears. It made her sick.

She managed to land another hit as Azriel adjusted his hold on her. A scarred hand yanked open one curtain so that a harsh beam of light streamed in from the faerie world that she wanted no part of. Then he pulled the sheet away from the mirror.

‘Open your eyes.’

His breath curled on her cheek but Nesta kept her eyes screwed shut.

‘You think you’re stubborn, but you haven’t met me,’ he said. ‘I will stay here holding you until only the poets remember our names.’

A hand stroked against her cheek. ‘There is no spell to reverse what happened. You are high fae.  I cannot change that, Nesta, but I can help you accept it and move forwards. I want to help you.’

The tip of his nose pressed into her temple. No man had ever put his hands on her this way, so consuming and intimate.

‘Look in the mirror.’

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. Nesta could have wept at what she saw. The face wasn’t hers. It was crueller, harder on the edges. Her grey eyes had turned silver like molten metal. All of her felt wrong – looked wrong. She had been broken then put back together the wrong way.

Nesta could not look away. As much as she despised what she had become, she could not stop herself from staring. It was a stranger staring back at her. Then her body trembled, wracked with heaving sobs.

Azriel turned her, crushing Nesta to his chest. His arms tightened around her then his wings cradled them both in a cocoon.

This could not be her life. This could not be what she had become. All of her choices had been stolen from her.

‘Where were you? You were supposed to save us. Where were you?’

She felt his breath shudder. ‘I failed you.’

Nesta broke away which was only because he had permitted it. His own expression was anguished. He reached out a hand for her either to touch her or hold her again, Nesta did not know. She did not want it. Would never want anything from these faeries again.

‘No, you have ruined my life. You, Feyre, all of you who forced yourselves into our home and dragged us into a world we wanted no part of. You have ruined our lives. Now, get out.’

[duskandcobalt]

DRESS

Elain buys a dress with the sole intention of getting Azriel to take it off of her. Antics ensue. Things get slutty.

Based on Taylor Swift's 'Dress'. 6.1k words?? lmao

The second instalment in my Inspired by Music One-Shot Series :)

Read on AO3

Shameless smut, baby babyyyy! (18+ pls)

Taylor Swift, I'm so sorry I used your song to write about Elain and Azriel getting down and dirty but that's just how life goes.

Elain knew her plan had worked when those hazel eyes surreptitiously slid over her body for the fifth time that night.

No one else would’ve noticed the way Azriel drank her in, his eyes lingering for only a couple beats before his attention was back on the conversation at hand. But Elain noticed each and every time - felt the heat of  his gaze seep through her, warming her very blood. She could almost feel the way his hands would trace over her curves if they were alone in this room, if he could lay her out on this table and take her the way she so desperately craved.

They were always careful - allowed themselves polite niceties and friendly smiles so as to maintain some level of normalcy but that was it, that was all they’d let their friends and family see. 

The heated glances, the stolen touches when no one else was paying attention - that was just for them. The time they had begun spending away from the others, in his room or hers, shrouded in his shadows to mask sounds and scent - that too, was theirs alone. 

But tonight, there was something different in the air between them. Something more intense. 

This was dangerous territory and Elain was walking a very, very fine line. 

…

It all started a week ago when she’d gone shopping with Nesta and had stumbled upon a dress. Elain had circled back to it three times as she paced the shop floor, tracing her finger over the delicate fabric before Nesta was at her side. “Just try it on, for Cauldron’s sake.”

“You don’t think it’s too… much ?” Elain questioned, nose wrinkling as she turned to face her older sister. 

“I think you could pull it off.” Nesta shrugged, pulling it from the rack and handing it to Elain. Before Elain could argue back, the shopkeeper seemingly appeared from thin air to lead her towards a fitting room at the back of the small store. 

Elain blushed as she turned towards the mirror and took in her reflection. 

The dress was stunning, different to what she usually wore but it somehow still felt like her. It wasn’t anything that would raise eyebrows in the Night Court but it was certainly something that she never would’ve even considered wearing as a human. Would’ve thought it to be entirely too scandalous. 

The sleeves were crafted from a delicate lace that clung to her arms, the corset of the top scooped much lower than she was used to and the way it was structured pushed her breasts right up, supporting them in a way that made her cleavage appear rounder and firmer than she’d ever thought possible. The bodice underneath the cups of the corset was sheer and fabricated from the same lace as the sleeves, hinting at the skin of her rib cage, the small of her waist. From there, the skirt of the dress fell all the way to the floor. The exquisite silk was cut close to her body and draped across her hips in a way that highlighted her generous, soft curves. 

The cherry on top, the reason it had caught her eye in the first place, was that the garment just so happened to be the exact shade of the siphons that graced her lover’s body.

It was this last factor, coupled with the image of those siphoned hands undoing the laces at the back of the corset, that had her swallowing her nerves and walking out of the store with a new gown in hand.

She hung it carefully in her wardrobe and every single time she looked at it for that entire week, every time she touched the cobalt blue fabric,  Elain saw his face. Imagined how her Shadowsinger would react to seeing her in it. Over the days, those little daydreams formulated into a full blown plan in her head for exactly how she wanted the night to end when she wore it to family dinner that weekend.

What Elain failed to remember, however, is that when he saw her, they wouldn’t be alone. So while her sisters and friends all complimented her new dress, all she got that night when Azriel walked in the house and finally got his first glimpse of her, was a slight widening of his eyes and the quickest flash of his perfect teeth as they raked over his bottom lip. 

It wasn’t quite what she’d imagined but it was enough to ignite a spark in her. 

To make her brazen. 

To make her want to play. 

Elain squared her shoulders and enacted her plan - made sure to walk slowly and swish her hips a little more than usual. Made sure her backside just barely brushed against his finely tailored black slacks  as she passed between him and Cassian on her way to her seat. She strategically sat across from him, purposefully stood and leaned over the table to reach for a dish - presenting him with a clear view down the top of her new dress.

She knew he had picked up on the game she was playing but she also knew how fiercely competitive Azriel could be. So stubborn that he refused to give her any more than those split second searing gazes that were driving her crazy. Gazes that had her pining for more, desperate for his attention. 

She’d have to play dirty to get the reaction she wanted. 

… 

All rational thought evaded her as she decided to push him further.

Elain held back a grin as she slid a foot out of her slipper, sinking lower into her chair feigning being so full that she couldn’t possibly sit upright any longer. She extended her leg until her toes found their target… and then she watched, utterly delighted, as Azriel froze at the slow drag of her bare foot up his calf. 

He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t dare look at her, as she continued moving up, her foot grazing his knee, traveling higher and higher up his muscled thigh until she pressed gently against the front of his trousers. The corner of her mouth curved up when she felt just how efficiently her plan tonight had worked because despite his cool demeanor, every hard inch of him strained against the expensive fabric of his pants.

Before she could make her next move, two things happened in rapid succession.

First, Azriel’s hand wrapped firmly around her foot, his thumb pressing hard into the arch of it. 

A half a second later, the unmistakable scent of his arousal flooded the dining room. His control on his shadows seemingly faltering enough that they no longer concealed his scent. 

“What the fuck , man?” Cassian groaned, setting down the forkful of mashed potatoes that had been halfway to his mouth. He turned to face the Shadowsinger, a scowl on his face. 

“The food isn’t that good, Azriel.” Mor added, chuckling behind her wine glass. 

Every eye was on Azriel - everyone waiting for an explanation, pure amusement written on each of their beautiful faces. Everyone except Rhysand, whose eyes were fixed on Elain instead. 

She quickly wiped the smirk off her face and willed her cheeks not to brighten, schooling her expression into one of indifference as she looked away from her brother-in-law. She couldn’t give him reason to suspect anything was going on between herself and Azriel, not when she knew very well that he was the reason they’d been sneaking around in the first place.  It was all very hard to do when she was still keenly aware of Azriel’s hand wrapped around her foot, his thumb now tracing the sensitive arch. He knew how ticklish she was.

“You’re one to talk, Cassian. Do you want me to tell everyone what was going on in the dining room at the House of Wind during Nesta’s probation period?” Azriel rolled his eyes, no hint of what was going on under the table in his expression. No hint of embarrassment or shame anywhere to be seen as he cracked a joke.

A distraction tactic… and a very effective one at that. Laughter filled the room.

“Leave me out of this.” Nesta cut in, eyes glimmering as she peaked at Cassian who was looking back at her, a sly grin replacing his scowl as they both recalled whatever had happened at the House of Wind. 

Based on the way their scents were now mixing with Azriel’s, Elain wasn’t sure she wanted to know. 

“Oh my god.” Feyre chimed in from the head of the table once the scent of Nesta and Cassian floated over to her. Her head fell into her hands. “What the hell is going on tonight?!” 

Every eye previously on Azriel turned to Feyre, all of them giving her the same look - one that conveyed that she should be the last to complain. 

How many times had they all been subjected to the scent of her and Rhys over the past few years? 

“Okay, okay.” She blushed, immediately catching on.  “Forget I said anything.” 

That was the distraction needed for Rhys to finally look away from Elain, his inquisitive gaze softening as he gave Feyre a cunning smile. 

“This isn’t the first time someone’s gotten worked up at dinner and it won’t be the last.” Amren said finally, twisting a ruby ring around her finger. “Let’s just all say a prayer for whichever of his many secret lovers is on Azriel’s mind tonight. Mother only knows what he has in store for them.” “My money’s on that female from Day Court - she couldn’t take her eyes off of  him the last time we were there.” Cassian spoke up, pure mischief in his eyes. 

“I bet it’s one of the priestesses from training. I’ve heard the things they say about him when they think I’m not listening.” Mor argued.

“Oh!” Nesta exclaimed. “Cass mentioned something about two friends that look like twins in Winter Court… or maybe there were actually twins… are you partial to taking two people to bed at once, Az?”

Elain considered throwing a fork at her sister.

On and on it went, every one chiming in on which secret lover was the object of Azriel’s desire tonight along with speculations about what exactly he’d be doing to them.

Elain burned with jealousy, trying hard not to picture all of these mystery females that her male was supposedly seeing. But while she sat with the smallest hint of a frown on her lips, Azriel was smiling and laughing as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Asshole. 

Elain pulled her foot out of his grasp, slid it back into her shoe and then abruptly stood and made her way to the kitchen. She’d heard enough.

She was midway through angrily wiping down the kitchen benchtop when a shadow twisted up her arm, floating along her shoulder before caressing her ear. 

Jealous, my love?

Elain huffed, scrubbing the already spotless benchtop with even more fervor. 

She tries to ignore the message from the mischievous little shadow but then it leaves her ear, trails down her throat and drifts across her breasts. 

She brushes it away, her scalp tingling at that phantom touch. “Tell your master his presence is required in my room after dinner.” 

… 

Elain stares at the door of her bedroom for what feels like hours waiting for the handle to twist, waiting for the object of her jealousy, the object of her desire, to walk in. In reality, it couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes since everyone had either left the house or gone off to their own rooms. She’s just about to surrender herself to the fact that maybe he wouldn’t come, that she’d done all of this for nothing, when a mass of shadows slides under her door and stops in a cloud just two small steps away from her feet. 

One shadow escapes from the huddle, trailing up her body just as before until it’s by her ear. 

Come.

She knew immediately what she was being asked to do and a shiver of excitement coursed through her even as she hesitated. She’d only done this once before, Truth Teller firmly in her grasp as Azriel’s shadows carried her to put an end to the King of Hybern. 

Elain took a deep breath, steeling herself before she stepped forward into the gathering of shadows. 

Icy air drew chills from her body as her stomach plunged, the sensation of falling through space overtaking her as everything went black. She supposed this would’ve been terrifying if she didn’t trust him so innately. 

She fell for just a few moments before her slippered feet landed on a plush rug. The darkness faded, the shadows leaving her to slip back to the Spymaster that was standing across the room from her. 

Elain didn’t look at him for longer than it took to acknowledge that he was in fact there before her eyes scanned her new location. 

The room was just a bit smaller than her own bedchamber - the view from the window to the left of her hinted that they were on the third or fourth floor of a building overlooking the river.

It was too well kept to be a room in an inn. Perhaps an apartment?

The space was sparse - a large simple bed covered in soft white linen, a tall mirror, an armchair, and a wardrobe were the only pieces of furniture. There were no decorative items, nothing to hint that anyone actually occupied the space. 

When Elain finally gave in and looked at Azriel, he was staring right back at her. She knew he would be - her skin may as well have been on fire with the way she was burning under his gaze.

“Is this where you bring all your lovers?” She broke the silence. She kept her voice steady, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing a single ounce of what she actually felt. Even the way she stood, completely relaxed, feigned indifference. 

Azriel chuckled, slowly crossing the room until he stood inches from her. “Just the one.” 

She swallowed, her heart thumping in her chest. He was so close and the way he was looking at her…  all she wanted was to touch him. But she couldn’t give in. Not yet. She refused to make it so easy for him.

“What game is this, Elain?” She could feel the bass of his voice in her bones. Both hated and loved the way her world stopped whenever he said her name like that.

Elain couldn’t take it. Two more seconds of this searing eye contact and she wouldn’t be able to hold back. Wouldn’t be able to stop from falling to her knees and reaching for his belt. 

“Where are we?” She ignored his question. 

“Investment property.” Azriel shrugged as if it was nothing, as if he had more important things to discuss. “In between tenants at the moment so I thought we could take advantage.” 

The mischievous look he gave her while his thumb grazed his lower lip made her head spin.

She tore her gaze away from those lips and turned away from him, found the mirror across the bed and walked towards it. Watched through the reflection the way his eyes shamelessly fell to her backside. 

“Do you like my dress?” She skimmed her hands innocently down the sheer corset covering her waist, over the swell of her hips. 

She knew his weaknesses - knew that he had a particular soft spot for the generous curves of her thighs, her ass. 

“I think you know I do.” Azriel’s eyes darkened as they followed the path her fingers traced over her body.  She’s sure he marks the slight tremble in her hands. The physical manifestation of her anticipation.

“Do I? You never said anything… even Cassian said I looked ravishing.” Elain smirks at the flash of jealousy that appears on his face for a split second at the mention of his brother’s name.

“I thought you felt just how much I liked your dress when you pulled your little stunt at dinner.” He gives her a pointed look before his eyes slowly rake over her. He takes his time surveying every little detail, something he didn’t have the leisure of doing before. 

Azriel steps forward until he’s right behind her, placing his hands on her hips, over her own hands. He leans down until his lips are at her ear. “You are devastating, Elain. Absolutely, devastatingly beautiful.”

Elain’s eyes flutter shut as she leans back into him until her head falls gently against his chest, breathing deeply as she tries to remember what her plan had been. 

“I bought it for you, you know.” The words leave her in a whisper as his lips ghost over her neck.

“Is that so?” He straightens, resting his chin on the top of her head. 

“It’s the same colour as your siphons.” Elain pulls her hands from under his to trace the glowing cobalt siphons strapped to his wrists. 

“And when I tried it on, I pictured your siphons… your hands…” Her fingers delicately run over the raised scars on his hands. Scars that he once couldn’t bear to look at until she came along and called them beautiful. “I thought of how much I wanted you to take this dress off of me at the end of the night.”

Elain hears him groan. Feels the way that groan rumbles through his chest. Relishes in the way his cock hardens against her lower back when he presses his hips against her. 

She bites down on her lower lip, holding back a moan of her own at the feeling.

“Take it off me, Azriel.”

Elain thought he’d make quick work of getting her out of the dress once those words had left her lips but she should’ve known better. Should’ve known this little game between them wasn’t anywhere near over. 

Azriel’s hands move at a glacial pace.

They drift from her hips up to her waist, fingertips skimming over the sheer lace of the corset, over the sensitive skin of her ribcage 

She shivers as his thumb brushes over a spot right in between her ribs, on her sternum. Over the dark violet mark on her otherwise pale skin. 

“I could see this the entire night which means everyone else could too.” Azriel remarks, his eyes still on hers.

She’d been aware of this - that this secret mark was visible even through her dress. The visual evidence of exactly where his lips and tongue had been a week ago on display for all to see. It should’ve been gone by now, with her quick healing skin. But Elain had taken to pressing her own fingers against the mark each night since, pain fading into pleasure as she recalled just how she’d come by it in the first place. She wanted that indentation of him on her skin forever. 

“Seems like you were determined to take all sorts of risks tonight.” He whispers into her hair as his hands continue to travel up until they’re over the cups of the corset. One finger traces where the structured silk neckline meets the tender skin of her breasts before his large fingers splay over her, squeezing gently. His thumbs drag over peaked nipples and then his hands are gone from her entirely - leaving her heavy and aching. 

She opens her mouth to protest when he takes half a step back but then his hands are back on her. One hand caressing the back of her neck before moving down the bare skin at the top of her spine. The other hand finds its home on the curve of her backside where he squeezes. Hard.

Then finally, finally , his hands meet at the small of her back, where the ribbons of her corset had been tied into a neat bow. 

Azriel’s head dips down - his lips settle at the junction of her jaw and neck as he tugs on the ribbon, undoes the bow. 

He does it all with careful attention, delicately uncrossing and pulling ribbon from grommets, his fingertips and knuckles leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever they graze her bare back. 

“Let’s see what’s underneath this dress, shall we?” He mutters against her jaw, his eyes once again meeting hers. 

He says it like it’s the first time. As if he’s never seen her undressed before. As if he hasn’t studied every part of her body in intimate detail time and time again. 

Azriel pulls the sides of the corset apart, runs his hands up her back to meet where the sleeves start at the very corner of her shoulders and then he slowly pulls them down her arms. Elain’s breath hitches. The sensation of cool air hitting her overheated skin with each bit of her that he reveals is almost too much to bear. 

When he helps her slip her arms out of the sleeves, when the top of the dress falls to her waist, her breasts dropping back to their natural position - no longer held up by the structured boning - she glances at him. The slightest bit of insecurity settles in her stomach at the difference between how her breasts had looked a second ago to how they look now. Without the corset they settle into a bell shape, the roundness of them more evident at the bottom of her breasts than the top.

There’s no disappointment in Azriel’s expression, however -  nothing but clear want and need as his thumbs trace the heavy curve of her lower breasts before coming up to run around and over her rosy nipples. 

When his hands leave her breasts to travel down, to push her dress off completely, she stops him. Turns in his arms and places a hand on his chest, walks him backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed. Azriel takes her cue, sits down with his legs spread and reaches to pull her in between them. She evades his grasp.

“Elain.” The warning tone in his voice makes her core clench.

Elain fumbles to keep a grasp on the confidence she needs to proceed with the next part of her plan for the night instead of just giving in and letting him have his way with her. She’s pushing his patience but losing her own in the process. 

“Azriel.” She sings his name, taunting him. “Did you really think I’d just let you have me so easily? After I had to listen to everyone talk about all your lovers? All the things you’ve done with them?” 

Elain takes in a shaky breath as her fingers clutch the fabric still settled at her waist, easing it down around her hips. 

“Maybe I should’ve told them about all the things we do. All the things you do to sweet, innocent Elain when we’re alone.” She watches him closely as her dress falls to the floor in a heap. “Maybe I should’ve told them just how much sweet, innocent Elain wanted you to bend her over the table and take her right then and there.” 

Azriel's eyes darken at her words, his pupils completely blown. But his eyes aren’t on her face anymore. They aren’t on her breasts. No… they’re focused solely on the small scrap of satin covering her sex. The underwear that’s the exact same shade of blue as her dress, as his siphons. Except for the slightly darker patch of blue right in between her thighs, where the proof of her arousal has dampened the delicate fabric.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Azriel chokes out, his hands ball into his fists on his lap as if it’s taking every ounce of his strength to not touch her. 

“What?” Elain bites her lip as she toys with the tiny little peach coloured bow on the waistband of her cobalt underwear. “You said you wanted to see what was under my dress… don’t you like your surprise?”

“If I’d known those were hiding under there, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from fucking you on that dining table…  whether anyone was there to see or not.” Azriel presses his palms into his thighs. “Come here.” 

“Not yet, Az.” She shakes her head even if it kills her to do so. 

“Haven’t you drawn this out long enough?” Azriel stands, walks to her, but stops just a couple feet short. “ Come . Here .” 

Elain laughs. 

He's still not getting it. Still not backing down. 

“I should really make you beg.” She raises an eyebrow, spelling out exactly what she wants before turning and walking back towards the mirror. 

Just as before, his eyes fall to her ass. At how little of it her underwear covers.

Elain stops in front of the mirror and carefully undoes her hair. It cascades down her back, so long that the ends stop just a few inches above the small of her back. She trails a hand down her body, over that mark on her sternum,  in between her legs. Azriel goes rigid as he watches two of her fingers trace over the wet patch of satin. 

Elain’s eyes flutter shut. “I should really make you watch as I make myself come.”  

When she opens her eyes again,  Azriel isn’t where she left him. He’s directly behind her. Wings flared out to their full wingspan. And he’s on his knees. 

“What are you - ?” Elain turns quickly to face him, looking down at him as Azriel looks up at her through his long, dark lashes.

His eyes glimmer with challenge even as he’s kneeling before her. 

“You told me to beg.” He says simply, voice dark. “I’m begging.” 

Elain whimpers as Azriel’s hands trace up her legs until they find their place high on the back of her thighs. “Let me taste you, Elain.”

Her hands land in his hair, clutching the strands as he bows lower and places a kiss just above each of her knees. “Please let me taste you.” 

He kisses higher, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. 

“Please let me make you come on my tongue.” His breath is hot, directly over where she’s ready and waiting for him.

She can barely stand still any longer. All she wants is his mouth on her. 

“Do it.”

The words are barely out of her mouth when Azriel’s tongue presses flat to her center, over her underwear. The slide of his tongue over the fabric creates the most sensational friction that her knees threaten to buckle.

Hours… Days…  How long has she been imagining this very moment? 

Azriel pulls her towards him to keep her upright, fingers digging into the back of her thighs so hard that she knows there’ll be marks left when he’s done. The thought of that makes her smile. 

He makes no move to take her underwear off, only pushes the satin to the side before his mouth is directly on her. His nose brushes her clit, his tongue is at her entrance, and Elain is lost to the world. 

Azriel is well practiced in getting what he wants out of her and the anticipation that’s been building all evening, all week, has heightened every single touch. Long, languid swipes of his tongue, a finger stroking that specific spot inside her with just the right pressure, and a gentle run of his teeth over her clit is all it takes before she’s falling apart quicker than either of them would’ve thought possible. 

His mouth stays on her throughout it all, his tongue deep inside her as he takes everything she’s willing to give him. Her hands pull at his hair, his scalp tingles. He wants to live here, between her thighs forever. Every bit of him is consumed by the feel, the smell, the taste of her.

Azriel catches her when her knees actually do give out and she’s unable to hold herself up any longer. He pulls her down to him, wraps her in his arms, strokes her hair. Then once she’s finally caught her breath, when she looks up at him with that blissful expression, he gives her a look that has her heart pounding all over again.

“Hands and knees.” He demands, pulling away from her to stand up. “Face the mirror.”

Elain stares at him for a second before doing exactly as he asked. Shifts shakily until she’s on all fours.

“Did you think I’d let you…” Azriel trails off for a second, momentarily distracted by the view in front of him. He unbuttons his shirt and slips it off his shoulders before continuing. “Did you really think you could tease me all night long and get away with it?”

She looks at him over her shoulder. Takes in the glorious sight of him. All his golden skin and dark tattoos and the occasional scar. She presses her thighs together at the sight of him removing his belt, his trousers. Her mouth waters when his fingers wrap around his cock. 

He walks around her, fist sliding down his length over and over again, until he’s standing in between her and the mirror. His other hand grasps her chin, tilts her face up to look at him. 

“Open.” He keeps his hand on her jaw as she obeys, her lips parting to let him guide himself into her waiting mouth. 

Azriel bites back a moan as she takes his cock. He goes slow at first, pulling out and going back in another inch deeper each time until she’s taking the full length of him in one go. When he pulls out the next time, he pauses for just a second to gather her hair in a fist at the nape of her neck, and then he’s back in her mouth, her nose bumping against his lower stomach with each thrust of him into her mouth and down  her throat. 

“Eyes on me.” His hand taps her cheek the second her eyelids start to close. Elain forces them back open, eyebrows pulling together as she focuses on breathing through her nose, on relaxing her throat enough to take him the way she knows he likes.

Elain loves this. Loves when he fucks her mouth like this. She loves knowing her voice will have a little rasp to it tomorrow because of it, because of him. 

He keeps going until tears are running down her face, doesn’t stop until her nails press firmly into his thigh. 

“Want you in me.” She gasps when he withdraws from her, gulping down air as she looks up at him. 

Azriel nods, lets go of her hair and wipes the tears from under her eyes. He’s made an absolute mess of her.

Elain lowers her upper body to the rug, arches her back  - presents herself to him. Wordlessly telling him how she wants him.

He settles behind her, adjusts her underwear until he can see where she’s unbelievably wet for him. So wet that her inner thighs are glistening with her arousal. He holds her open with one hand, drags his cock along her - the very tip of him bumping her clit once - before he lines himself up at her entrance. 

Azriel fucks her cunt the same way he fucked her mouth. Slowly. Gives her one excruciating inch at a time until she’s stretched enough to take him completely. When he’s inside her fully for the first time, he lowers his body over hers. His back is pressed tight against hers, his lips are against her ear. “I’ve missed you.”

Elain is so overwhelmed from the fullness of him seated so deep inside her coupled with the heaviness of his body on top of hers that she almost weeps at the sincerity of his words. 

I’ve missed you. 

Not “I’ve missed being in you.”

Not “I’ve missed fucking you. ”

But “I’ve missed you.”

“I always miss you.” She replies, lets him hear the sincerity in her voice, too. 

Azriel grips her throat, lifts her head up as he thrusts into her slow but precise. His hand is still around her throat when their eyes meet in the mirror. His chin is hooked on her shoulder. “Watch… watch as I fuck you. See how pretty you look when you take my cock.”

He picks up his pace, the sound of his hips hitting her ass echoes around the room louder and louder with each punishing thrust. Elain tries to hold back the noises that are coming out of her as he angles up, hitting that spot in her that he memorised long ago. 

“Let it out, my love.” His teeth close around her earlobe. “There’s no one to hear you here. Just me.” 

She’ll never get enough of him. Never tire of having him inside her. Each time is euphoric, the feeling of him stretching her, that blissful first few seconds of sweet pain as her body adjusts to the size of him before pure pleasure takes over. She can’t imagine ever going without this, without him. 

“Azriel.” She whispers his name at first, fighting to keep her eyes open and on him. She doesn’t want to miss a moment either. “Azriel, Azriel, Azriel! ”

His name leaves her lips louder each time, the volume of her voice matching the intensity with which he takes her. She can see clearly how it’s affecting him, can see how close he is to finishing. 

The image of them moving together, of him fucking her, has her right on the edge too. 

“With me.” She begs. “Come with me. Come in me. Please.” 

Her knees are burning, the friction of the rug underneath her taking its toll. The burn of it mimics the burn in her core. The release that’s just within her reach.

One more hard thrust is all it takes.

“Azriel.” She breathes as she comes apart. His grip on her throat tightens slightly and her eyes roll back at the lightheadedness that threatens to consume her as she pulses frantically around him.

“You’re the only one, Elain.” He mutters into her shoulder as he comes. His eyes are still fixed on her face as he fills her. “This is all for you.” 

When he pulls out of her, when his hand drops from around her neck, when she feels him drip out of her and down her thighs, Elain whimpers at the emptiness she feels.

She’s barely aware of him sliding her underwear off of her and gathering her in his arms. Only vaguely hears the praise he’s whispering in her ear as he stands up, still holding her.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?” He carries her into an adjoining bathing chamber, helps her into the bath that’s already waiting for them. 

Azriel leans down over the tub, kisses her for the first time that night - for the first time in a week. It’s slow and sweet… almost chaste. The complete opposite of what they just did. Elain savours it, let’s it bring her back to this realm, reacquaints herself with the feel of his lips soft against hers.

“I’ll get us some wine.” He kisses the very corner of her mouth and then disappears for just a minute before he’s back with a bottle and two glasses. He hands her a glass as he climbs in and settles into the water to face her. 

…

Two glasses of Rhys’ good faerie wine is all it takes before Elain is tipsy- wine spilling out of her glass and into the water as Azriel plants kisses all over her face. He can’t keep her hands off of her under the water, grasping and groping her hips, her thighs, her ass. If they keep on like this, there’s no chance she’d be making it home before the sun is up. 

She plants a hand on his chest, playfully pushes him away. She can’t stop giggling. 

“What’s so funny?” He smirks. 

“Just…” She giggles as she blushes, suddenly shy. “Everyone thinks they know us, but they have no idea how… imagine if they had any idea we…” 

“ Fuck? ” Azriel says it for her with a conspiratorial tone, lightly mocking her inability to get the word out herself. His hands grip her tighter as he pulls her on top of him. He draws his knees up and she gasps as the movement shifts her forward, over the hard length of him. “They’d probably think I corrupted you. If they only knew all the filthy things in that head of yours.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Elain coyly downs the rest of her wine, sets the glass down on the floor next to Azriel’s. 

One more time,  she tells herself.

Her hands move under the surface of the water, positioning him where she needs him before she lowers herself down. “I’m leaving after this.”

“Whatever you say, my love.” Azriel replies before his lips close around her breast.

[perseusannabeth]

Chapter 8 - Cassian

A/N: Hi guys, long time no see!

I just want to thank everyone for all the lovely comments you left me during this really long break I took. I really appreciated them, even though I didn't respond. You guys were the reason I carried on writing.

After I posted the last chapter, my grandad got really ill, and he passed away at the beginning of this year, so I've been super absent because as you can imagine, taking care of my grandad, and then dealing with his sickness and then death took it out of me. I'm doing a lot better now though, but writing isn't coming to me as easily as it was before.

I felt like since I finally finished writing and editing this chapter, everyone deserved it, but I have no idea when the next chapter will be. I promise I'm still writing this fic, I'm just taking a long time to write the chapters.

With that being said, please remember that this fic is angsty. There are no trigger warnings I can think of for this chapter, but if people think of any that need to be added, please let me know!

Word count:   7282

LMBYH Masterlist | My Masterlist | My Ask Box | Read on AO3

Cassian had never been the kind of man to live in excess. He enjoyed his wine and whiskey as much as the next person, but he rarely got drunk. Frankly, he found the effects on his health the morning after far too much for a man of his age. This night, however, was making Cassian wish he could work his way up to a drunken stupor because the after-effects of that would be more enjoyable than this night. 

It hadn’t all been bad though. He had felt fairly good at the beginning of the ball and eventually had felt a level of joy he hadn’t known was possible when he had danced with his wife. The dance had given him hope that perhaps they could grow to have a more ‘normal’ relationship as husband and wife one day. One where they could grow to care for one another, and where they could depend on each other. They could become a husband and wife partnership that his parents had never had. Cassian had felt the chemistry with his wife, and he had wanted more. But hope was for fools, and he was the biggest fool of them all.

Nesta had seemed to be enjoying herself, talking to old Devlon. He hadn’t even known they were friends, but that made Kallon’s outburst at their wedding even worse. Then she was sat by her sister, and Feyre seemed so happy to spend time with Nesta. He somehow managed to lose sight of his wife, he thought she was safe with Feyre. He didn’t want to make it seem like he was following her, he had stayed close by if she needed him. He didn’t want to smother her.

It had come as a shock to him when Adelaide told him his wife was not feeling well, and he looked around to notice she wasn’t in the main hall like he thought. When he had tried to find Nesta, he had managed to get cornered by Ianthe, which he should’ve known would happen. Then of course, he was careless and Nesta saw them together, and as he tried to chase his wife and explain what she had seen, only for her to bump into Philp Mandray of all people. It was like a nightmare, only worse because Cassian knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was real. He wished he knew what he had done to deserve this. 

The events of the night felt like they were catching up with him, and his head certainly felt like it was spinning. He wished he could just go to sleep and forget any of this had happened, but he couldn’t. Cassian wasn’t sure how long he stood there, looking at Philip and Nesta before he managed to shake himself out of his daze. Seeing Philip was a shock to the system. He knew that Philip would not be welcome at Helion’s house. Helion had his own issues with Philip Mandray way before the issue of Cassian marrying Nesta had happened.  

“Nesta, are you alright?” Cassian asked loudly, reminding both Philip and Nesta of his presence. Nesta flinched at the sound of his voice. Cassian felt like a knife had pierced his chest at the sight of his wife, practically in another man’s arms, flinching at the sound of his voice hurt him more than he cared to admit. 

“She’s fine, she’s always been very clumsy,” Philip responded, his voice grating on Cassian’s nerves as he spoke, a smirk on his face. Cassian’s hands were balled up, wishing he could throw a punch, but he couldn’t let his anger get the better of him like it did at his wedding. He needed to make sure Nesta was okay. 

“I wasn’t aware that you had changed your name Mandray. Last time I checked, Nesta was my wife’s name. Care to explain why you decided to respond on her behalf?”

Philip’s face was instantly flooded with red, a mixture of anger and embarrassment, which brought Cassian great joy. Cassian hadn’t given a shit about Philip Mandray before, not until he had stopped Cassian from meeting Nesta before their wedding. Still, Cassian couldn’t bring himself to feel even the smallest ounce of guilt when it came to embarrassing Philip. 

“Nesta, sweetheart, are you okay?” Cassian asked softly as he stepped forward. He slowly walked towards his wife, putting himself between her and Philip. 

It seemed like that had been the right move, because Cassian coming into her line of sight seemed to snap her out of the state of shock she had gone into, and she didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice when she was looking at him. Cassian started to move his hand slowly to help her up, not wanting any sudden movements to startle his already terrified wife, but she didn’t even wait for his hand to become fully outstretched before she grabbed his arm so tightly Cassian wondered if she would leave marks. His wife was delicate and didn’t look like she would have the strength to do so, but she might prove him wrong.

She gripped him like she was afraid to let go, so Cassian brought her close by his side. Although he and his wife were not ones for public displays of affection, or any affection, Cassian felt that with Philip around, a united front was needed. 

“I wasn’t aware that you were invited to Helion’s party Mr Mandray,” Cassian said, in the hope of reminding the man that he was risking making a huge scene if the hosts discovered he was here uninvited. A man like Philip put a lot of thought into his appearance, and sometimes needed reminding that he was not as untouchable as he thought. 

“I was not, but I’m sure that I could’ve gotten an invite if I wanted. Anything can be bought for a price, after all,” Philip said, responding to Cassian but not taking his eyes off Nesta, who had buried her face in his chest. Cassian was trying not to focus on the fact this was the most physical contact they’d had since the wedding night.  

“Well, an invitation to this party cannot be bought. I suggest you leave before you end up embarrassing yourself by having to be removed forcibly. I’m sure the guests would enjoy the entertainment though, if you feel like putting on a show,” Cassian said, smirking at him.

“There’s no need for the threats. That’s not the kind of behaviour I would expect from a Duke,” Philip said, tutting and shaking his head in fake disappointment. 

“Ah yes but you forget, I’m not just simply a Duke. I was also in Her Majesty’s army. This is a tame reaction for a soldier,” Cassian said sternly. He didn’t remind people of his history very often, but Philip Mandray needed to be reminded that he was a threat.

Unfortunately for Cassian, it seemed that Philip didn’t give a shit. “What good is a soldier who has no experience in a war? We have been at peace for so long that your title is just for show.”

“I don’t need to justify my service to the likes of you. The Queen is aware of what I did for my country,” Cassian said, wishing he was able to say more. 

Thankfully, Nesta tightened her grip on Cassian’s arm, reminding him she was in desperate need to get out of there. Although they hadn’t spoken about him very much, Cassian was very aware of how terrified she was of Phillip. He simply decided to ignore Philip’s existence (as much as it pained him) and focus on his clearly terrified wife. 

“Do you remember what I said before we came? About how if you want to go home, you just need to say the word?” He asked quietly, so only Nesta could hear. Philip watched them with great curiosity, but Cassian ignored him. 

Nesta had been shaking in his arms before, but now she was still. Cassian knew she remembered what he had said, but she didn’t say a word. He didn’t know why he was forcing Nesta to tell him she was uncomfortable and wanted to leave, but he felt like it was important for her to say this.

He waited for a response, before deciding that perhaps it was best to ease her into these things. He knew she wouldn't have been allowed to voice her opinion while married to Tomas. 

“Nesta, I need an answer. Do you want to go home?”

Nesta was so still in his arms that he wasn’t sure she had heard him. He was about to repeat himself when she nodded, her face still buried in his chest, but it was enough of a step for Cassian. He knew that telling him she wanted to go home had not been easy for her. 

He didn’t bother glancing at Philip, who was glaring at him with such hatred that Cassian wished he could punch him. It seemed unfair that he had punched Kallon at the wedding, but had never once laid hands on Philip, despite him being far worse in some respects. 

Still, he had someone else to think about now. He couldn’t let his emotions rule him, not when he had Nesta to worry about. He led Nesta into Helion’s study, knowing the guards would be standing around. As lax as Helion could be, he would never give someone the opportunity to slip into his study when nobody was paying attention. He’d learnt the hard way that he always had to be prepared. 

Thankfully, the guards knew Cassian well enough to allow him into the study. He guided Nesta onto one of the many armchairs placed around the room, before going to the guard at the door, asking him to find someone to bring his carriage around to the side entrance. With the state Nesta was in, he didn’t want the partygoers to talk about her more than they already were. 

A servant was called and asked to relay a message to Helion and Adelaide that the two of them would be leaving now. They would pass the message on to Nesta’s sisters and the rest of their friends so nobody would worry. He would have to explain what happened later on, once he had made sure Nesta was okay. He knew he had some explaining to do to his wife first, but seeing Philip had clearly scared her. He needed to make sure she was okay before talking to her about anything else that had happened during the evening. He didn’t want to add to her stress and worsen her condition, because she looked incredibly unwell right now. 

Cassian was tempted to send a rider to go get the doctor so that they would arrive home at the same time as the doctor and he would be able to check Nesta over. Thankfully, the rational part of Cassian’s mind reminded him that his wife wasn’t even comfortable around him, so there was no way she would remain calm when a doctor tried to do an examination. 

Since she had been seated in the armchair, Nesta had gone still. Before, when she had been in his arms, she had been shaking uncontrollably; whether this was due to her fear or shock, Cassian was unsure. Now, she was not reacting to anything. He had called her name a few times, moving in front of her hoping to snap her out of her trance, but there was nothing, not even a trace of recognition. He didn’t want to risk touching her in case she reacted badly. She seemed to shy away from him at the best of times. 

Thankfully, the carriage pulled around the French doors, probably ruining Helion’s perfectly manicured lawn, but Cassian didn’t give a shit if he was perfectly honest. He knew that Helion and Adelaide wouldn’t care either. 

“Nesta, the carriage is here. Let’s get you home now,” Cassian said gently as he kneeled down in front of her, slowly putting his hand on Nesta’s. Thankfully, that seemed to be enough to bring Nesta back into the present, although she seemed disorientated. 

Cassian guided her into the carriage by her hand, similar to how you would take a child by the hand to guide them. Cassian joined her in the carriage, trying to give her as much space as possible in a carriage. 

Not knowing what to say, Cassian decided to stay silent. His silence allowed him to get lost in his own thoughts, which mostly consisted of him thinking how nice the calm before the storm had been. His mind kept going back to how beautiful Nesta had looked while dancing in his arms. He had never seen his wife radiate such joy, and he wished he could go back to that. Instead, it had all gone to hell as soon as she left his arms, or so it felt like. There had been chaos after, and Cassian couldn’t understand what happened. Only, that was a lie. He hadn’t been careful. He had let his guard down in his joy of being out with his wife.

He was pulled out of his melancholy thoughts by the sound of Nesta gasping for breath. It seemed like she had come out of the trance, and now the panic in her eyes told Cassian she was hyperventilating. 

“Nesta, it’s okay, you’re safe. Please, just breathe,” Cassian said, scrambling closer to her. His movements made her flinch away from him, so he stilled and sat as still as he possibly could in a moving carriage. 

His words were no help to her, Nesta’s mind was already riddled with panic, and her breathing was getting shallower and louder. Cassian knew she needed fresh air, but stopping their carriages on the mostly deserted roads was not safe either, so he made a decision, which was most definitely a stupid decision. 

He moved to the door of the carriage while he shucked off his overcoat, wrapping it around his hand clumsily, and then punched the glass. It shattered instantly, causing Nesta’s strangled-sounding breaths to stop. He ignored the pain in his hand and cleaned all the glass near Nesta so she wouldn’t get hurt. 

Once her path to the broken window was as safe as he could make it, he moved back to the other side of the carriage. “You needed fresh air to help make you feel better. Please mind the glass,” Cassian said, nodding at the window. 

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again after no words came out. She took some time, but eventually, she moved towards the broken window and closed her eyes. The gentle breeze moved the strands of hair that had come out of her coronet, and Cassian could almost fool himself into pretending she looked calm. 

For the rest of the carriage ride, Nesta closed her eyes and focused on her breathing while Cassian watched her cautiously from the other side of the carriage. She didn’t seem to be calming down, not that he could tell anyway, but she was certainly getting control of herself again. Cassian wished he knew what that meant though. Was it calming enough? Did that mean she felt better, or just better enough to hide her emotions from Cassian? He assumed it was the latter, but it didn’t stop him from wishing he knew his wife better. How could they live together if they didn’t know each other? Every time he tried opening up to her, he was met with a cold hard wall. He knew she didn’t want to share things about her previous marriage, and he assumed none of it could be good, but he knew nothing. 

A normal married couple would know things like each other’s likes and dislikes, and what made them happy or sad. A normal husband would know how to comfort his wife when she was in the state Nesta was in. But Cassian was no normal husband. How could he be, when Nesta was no normal wife? He didn’t need a normal relationship, and he had known that their marriage would be normal, but he didn’t imagine feeling so helpless. He had assumed that taking Nesta away from the Mandray house would free her. He didn’t realise the impact the years had on her until he started living with her. 

When the carriage stopped outside of their house, Cassian felt relief. He knew that, here at least, Nesta was safe and comfortable. He had control of the environment, the situation and the people now, so he might be able to be more useful to Nesta. At the very least, he could do things to distract himself from the helplessness while his wife fought the demons in her mind.  

He jumped out of the carriage, holding the door open for Nesta so she didn’t touch the broken glass. She stepped out gingerly, looking so weak that Cassian fought the urge not to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to bed. 

Hill was waiting at the door, watching pensively as they came in. She knew Cassian well enough to know when something was wrong, and nobody could look at Nesta and assume she was okay.

“What do you need me to do?” Hill asked, ready to jump into action as per usual. 

“I need some tea if you don’t mind,” Cassian said. Hill didn’t say anything, just rushing off towards the kitchen. 

He guided Nesta to their bedroom, trying his best not to come too close to her. She seemed to be walking in a trance, the part of her brain that knew her routine just took over as she walked to their rooms. Nesta walked in and took a step towards the dressing room before Cassian gently told her to sit down.

She froze, and Cassian was sure that she had forgotten he was even there. “If you would just take a seat for a few moments, Hill will be here soon. I would feel much better if you drank some tea to calm your nerves before attempting to sleep.”

He knew saying he wanted Nesta to drink the tea was a low blow, she would see it as a direct order from him, but right now he didn’t care. If she was only willing to sit and drink the damned tea because he told her to, he would order her gladly. He needed to do something, anything to make himself feel better. 

Nesta sat down, as he requested, on his mother’s armchair, which pleased Cassian, and he couldn’t quite say why. Either way, seeing his wife sitting in his mother’s favourite chair was a nice feeling. It calmed his nerves ever so slightly. 

“Your hand,” Nesta murmured, as Cassian sat down on one of the other chairs. 

“Pardon?” Cassian asked. She had spoken so quietly that he wasn’t sure he had heard her properly.

“Your hand, you hurt it,” Nesta said, looking at his injury. 

Cassian followed her gaze to his hand, and to his surprise, it was bleeding. It looked rather gruesome, and as though it should hurt, and yet Cassian hadn’t even noticed it. He had assumed his clumsily wrapped overcoat would do the job, but in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about it very much. He had been far too distracted to realise he had hurt himself, and Nesta was clearly confused about how he didn’t notice it himself. 

“It isn’t bothering me, my lady, there’s no need to worry,” Cassian said, trying to soothe her worries while covering his hand with his other hand. 

Nesta’s frown deepened. She leaned closer toward him and gently pulled his bleeding hand closer to her for inspection. Cassian went still, holding his breath so that any movement didn’t stop his wife from voluntarily holding his hand. Of course, the circumstances weren’t great, but she had willingly held his hand! He certainly wasn’t feeling any pain now that his wife was holding his hand in hers so gently. 

As a man, society dictated that Cassian didn’t need people to be gentle with him. It wasn’t something that had ever bothered him, he had simply accepted it was how life was and moved on. Nesta held his hand gently while she inspected it was the first time someone had been this soft since his mother had died. He hadn’t even realised he missed it. He had assumed when he thought about his mother and it hurt, he was missing her. He didn’t realise he was also missing the kind of love and affection that a man only ever receives from his mother.

It was strange how such a simple act of the slightest affection could make him feel that way. But it was also strange that Nesta seemed to find his injury grounding. When Hill walked into their rooms, he thought she would startle since she was very engrossed with his hand. Instead, Nesta looked up when she noticed Hill put the tea down next to her, and then listed the supplies for the things she needed. 

Hill looked as surprised as he felt, but she quickly gathered all the supplies. “Do you need any help with anything? I can clean Cassian’s hand while you… Drink your tea,” Hill said, looking at Nesta with her eyebrows raised. 

Nesta didn’t respond; she instead went still. “It’s quite alright, Hill. I think my wife can handle it. You can retire for the night now. We’ve taken up enough of your time,” Cassian said with a smile. He gave Hill a meaningful stare, wanting her to get out. If his wife was comfortable dealing with his bloodied hand, then he certainly would not pass the opportunity up. 

Hill left with a small shake of her head, likely knowing exactly what Cassian was thinking. Then again, Hill most likely thought there would be more going on tonight than just Nesta dealing with his injury.

Nesta worked in silence, but it was clear from her actions that she was an expert at cleaning wounds. She picked out the glass pieces and put them into a cloth. Thankfully, There were only two fairly small glass pieces and they had not dug into anything important. It seemed that most of the damage had been done when he had punched the glass window, which was to be expected with his poorly wrapped hand. Perhaps he should not have moved quite so hastily, but he was far too worried about Nesta to care. 

Once Nesta was sure his hand was clear of glass, she dipped another cloth into the bowl of water that Hill had provided, and gently cleaned his hand. Once the hand was clean and Nesta could inspect the wounds properly, she assessed that the cuts were not bad enough to warrant stitches. Cassian was glad to hear that news because although he was able to grit his teeth through the pain, he shuddered at the sight of a needle ready to sew his skin together. He could stomach it, but barely, and would rather drink some poppy syrup. He didn’t really want his wife to see him in that kind of state. 

Nesta wrapped his hand gently, smoothing down the bandages as though she was caressing his hand. He wished he could feel her caress on his skin. His longing was interrupted by Nesta. 

“You’ll need to keep it clean and change the bandage too. I do feel that we should perhaps get it checked over just in case the cut is deeper than it seems, or worse still if any glass remains.” Nesta said, looking at him with concern.

“I think perhaps it is too late to call on the doctor without it being an emergency, but I promise that I will get it checked tomorrow.”

Nesta nodded and then moved away from him to sit back in her chair properly. She slumped down, as though the toll of the day was physically weighing her down. They sat there in silence for a while, Nesta staring into the distance, Cassian watching her subtly. 

Eventually, Nesta stood up. “It’s late, and I think I’ll get ready for bed, if that’s alright with you, your Grace?”

Cassian ignored the way she still asked for his permission. He didn’t have the energy to fight that particular battle right now, not after the night they’d had. He simply nodded and watched as she quickly scurried away into her dressing rooms.

\\\///

Cassian had hoped that his fitful night’s sleep would fix everything, but he had known deep down that he was being foolish. When he woke the next morning and looked at his wife’s tired face, he knew that the previous night’s events had taken its toll on both of them more than he had hoped. He felt like he was fumbling and had no idea how he could fix this mess. 

Nesta seemed intent on carrying on with her day as though everything was normal. She went to her refuge, the library, even though she looked ready to drop. She asked for her breakfast to be taken to the library. Claude was thrilled, saying that it was a sign that she was feeling more comfortable making more demands. Cassian wasn’t so sure but didn’t want to say anything to make things worse. Plus, if he made Claude sad, the whole household would feel the effects of a sad Claude, and that was truly something to fear. 

Cassian worried about his wife. Her resilience was something he admired greatly, but he wished she didn’t need to be this way. He wished he knew how to talk to and comfort her, especially after seeing the fear in her eyes when she was with Philip. He didn’t want to be a traditional, stern husband who barely spoke to his wife. He wanted his wife to rely on him, to be able to talk to him and tell him how she feels and what she thinks. 

Nesta seemed perpetually terrified of everything, and he sometimes felt like she was probably afraid of her own shadow. The way she had looked at Philip was different though. Something had happened to make her scared of him. The problem was Nesta was not likely to confide in Cassian about these things, and unless she did so, he couldn’t reassure her that nothing like that happened to her again. But for her to believe that she would have to trust him, and Cassian knew she didn’t. He didn’t blame her, but it hurt a little.

Cassian tried his best to leave Nesta to her own devices, but it was no use. His mind was constantly occupied by worries for her, wondering if she was okay, and a week after the party he was close to his breaking point. He had to ask Jacob to repeat himself on multiple occasions, but Cassian was just thankful that Jacob hadn’t commented on his lack of focus. 

When Jacob had suggested that perhaps the problem with the tenants could wait until tomorrow, Cassian had felt grateful that he was being given an out. It was too soon after the chaos of yesterday for him to be able to carry on as normal. His tenants would survive one day without him. 

Cassian didn’t instantly want to go running to the library to see what Nesta was doing, worried that she would find him smothering. It was difficult for him because all Cassian wanted to do was check on his wife, spend time with her and get to know her. The fear of alienating his wife was the only thing that made him go see Claude in the kitchens instead.

“Cassian, what are you doing here? Surely you know better than to come into Claude’s territory unannounced!” Matthew said. 

Cassian smiled at the young man, who, braver than most in his household, had volunteered when Claude had needed an assistant in the kitchens. Even Hill had shuddered at the thought of working in the kitchens with Claude.

Matthew was either very brave or very stupid, and Cassian truly could not tell which one it was. He had volunteered to work with Claude, which was a first. Even Claude had been shocked since the cook was nothing if not self-aware of his tyranny in the kitchen.

“I promise not to touch anything. I was just wanting some company,” Cassian said, holding his hands up in surrender. 

Now it was Matthew’s turn to laugh. “And I suppose you seeking Claude out has nothing to do with how he sits with your wife. Your wife is quiet, but Claude manages to bring out the chatty side of her.”

Cassian had no clever response for that. He knew he had been caught. He smiled bashfully, and just shrugged, looking for Claude so he could talk to him. Matthew, knowing how these things work by now, simply informed him that Claude was outside and left them to it. 

Cassian walked outside to see Claude in his garden patch. Claude was a big believer that if you could do it yourself, you should, and so he grew many fruits and vegetables himself. It was yet another reason why Claude was one of the best chefs in Velaris.

“Let me guess, you need my help to woo your wife,” Claude said, not looking up from his thorough inspection of his carrots. 

Cassian spluttered, trying to come up with a way to sound less pathetic, but there was no way to achieve that. In the end, he gave up, took a deep breath and said, “I think I messed up.”

That made Claude look up in an instant, and a heart-stopping glare came his way. “What on earth have you done now? I should’ve known not to trust you with her alone. You’re such a brute. You have no idea how to treat a real lady,” Claude huffed in annoyance. 

“Honestly Claude, if you can tell me what I did and tell you how to fix it, I’ll owe you forever,” Cassian said, running his hands through his hair. That made Claude pause. He knew Cassian well enough to know when things were serious. 

“Tell me everything that happened.”

“It was all going really well, we danced, and she was smiling so much. I’ve not seen her that happy before. I could finally see some real emotions from her, not the ones she wears as a mask.” he sighed, thinking back to how radiant Nesta had seemed in the ballroom. It had been a moment where Cassian believed they could be happy together. They would work through whatever demons Nesta was fighting, and they would be able to be happy. 

“It’s probably my fault things went wrong. I was talking to the others, and Nesta got up. I don’t know where she went or who she spoke to. You know how mercenary those women can be. I should’ve prepared her better. We all should’ve. But then Adelaide told me Nesta was in distress and she needed me. I went to the room I thought she was in and Ianthe told me-”

“Ianthe? What did that snake want?” Claude spat. Ianthe was not popular with his friends and family, especially considering how she had tried to integrate herself into their group. Cassian decided it would be best to keep the details of their interaction to a bare minimum, or his life might end up in danger. 

“The usual, but that’s not the worst of it Claude. Nesta ran into Philip Mandray,” Cassian revealed. 

“Fuck!” Claude exclaimed. 

“My thoughts exactly. I have no idea what he said to her, Claude. They couldn't have been alone for more than two minutes before I got there, but it was enough for him to say something that troubled her. The colour had all drained away from her face, and I was worried she was about to faint. She looked so unwell.”

“Did you talk to her about it?” 

“At the time I was too focused on getting her home, it had all clearly been too overwhelming for her and then seeing Philip was just too much for her.”

“And what about since then? The next day did you try?”

“Claude, I know you don’t believe me when I say this, but I swear, I’m not actually an idiot. I’ve tried to broach the subject so many times, but she either leaves the room or changes the subject. Last night she even pretended to have fallen asleep, even though I could see her peeking to see if I had gone to sleep! I don’t know what else I can do.”

Claude’s angry expression melted away to sadness. “I’m not sure what I can suggest either, Cassian. I know she talks to me, but that doesn’t mean she’s open with me. In fact, she’s only ever talkative when asking me questions about my cooking. If I try to bring up other subjects she’s the same as when she talks to anyone else.”

“I don’t know what to do, Claude. At this point, I don’t even need her to open up to me. If she’s happier with me not knowing, that’s fine, but the problem is, Nesta won’t talk to anyone about what happened to her while married to Tomas. She won’t open up to her sisters, and she doesn’t seem to have any friends. It’s not healthy! The only thing that’s keeping me sane is that she seems to be happy in the library. I try to stay out of there as much as I can because it now feels like I’m encroaching on her safe space, but I worry about her being alone all the time.”

The two let the silence stretch on them until Matthew came out. “My goddess, it's miserable out here. What happened, did you two argue again?”

“No, we’re just worried about Nesta,” Claude said.

“Why?”

“She doesn’t talk to anyone and we’re worried that bottling things up is making her ill,” Claude explained.

“Well, has anyone else talked to her about their own struggles?” Matthew asked.

“What do you mean?” Cassian asked with a frown.

“Well, we all know what the Mandray house is rumoured to be like, so I understand your concern. The duchess does not act in a way that could be considered normal, but I’m sure she’s aware of that herself. Everyone who tries to get her to open up is doing so out of concern, but they don’t understand her. I don’t want to step out of line here, but is there anyone who she could relate to? Someone who’s been in a similar situation so she can see she’s not alone?” Matthew spoke as Claude and Cassian looked at each other with wide eyes. 

“Why, Matthew, you’re a genius!” Claude leapt up and hugged the man, startling Matthew. “Of course, she isn’t going to feel comfortable talking to us!”

“You’re right, but who could she possibly feel comfortable with?” Cassian asked, unwilling to let himself get excited about something when he had no idea how to carry out the admittedly good idea. 

At that moment, a boy called out for Cassian, and it was like he had been sent from someone up above as an answer to their question. 

“I’m really sorry, Mr Duke sir, but me and my sister were playin’ out by the front with a ball, and I think we broke a window, sir. It was my fault, sir, I’m terribly sorry,” the boy said, trembling in front of him, but making eye contact nevertheless. Cassian would guess the boy was no older than 6 or 7 years old.  

Claude let out a chuckle, startling the boy. “No need to worry about Cassian when it comes to broken windows Arthur. Cassian has probably broken every window in this place at some point or another.”

The boy, Arthur, looked from Claude to Cassian cautiously. “Why don’t you take me to where you were playing and show me what happened?” Cassian asked, gesturing to the boy to lead the way. It looked like that was the last thing he wanted to do, but clearly, Arthur felt like he had no choice. 

“Of course, sir,” he said, resigned to his fate clearly. 

“So, your mother is Eleanor, correct?” Cassian questioned, having finally been able to place the boy.

“Yes, sir, I’m the eldest. I have a little sister, Jane. She’s the one I was playing with, but it was all my fault, sir,” the boy sounded panicked, clearly worried his sister would get into trouble.

“It’s quite alright, Arthur. I know it’s hard to believe this, but I truly was a scoundrel when I was young. My mother used to despair when I played with my friends. Accidents happen, I’m just glad nobody was hurt.” The boy remained quiet, so Cassian attempted to change the subject. “Do you like living here?” He asked, not sure what other types of small talk he could make. 

“Yes sir, I’m ever so grateful you took us in and allowed my mother to work for you. I ask you not to punish my mother or sister for something I did. I’ll take any punishment you give, sir.”

At that, Cassian frowned. “I won’t punish you, your mother or your sister for this, Arthur. It was an accident, and I believe you.” Cassian stopped in the middle of the path leading them to the front of the house. They were almost there, but Cassian felt he needed to clear things up with the boy. “I will never raise my hand against any of you. If anyone ever dares to do so, then you come to me or Jacob. Even if you have to disturb us, it is our duty to make sure people are safe.”

“I’m the man of the house. My job is to look after my mother and sister,” Arthur said, puffing his chest out to show Cassian importance.

“That’s a very big responsibility for someone so small, but I have no doubt in my mind that you do the job well,” Cassian said with a smile.

The boy’s shoulders slumped at that. “I only look small. I’m actually 10 years old!” The boy said frustratedly.

Cassian was shocked at that. The boy didn’t look big enough for 10. He was all skin and bones, but Cassian remembered how Eleanor had looked when she had first arrived here. The look of hunger was not something that went away easily. Eleanor had admitted to Cassian that she had run away from her husband, and she was worried about him finding them and wanting retribution, but she had never gone into any further detail. Cassian hadn’t needed details from her when he had seen how hungry she looked. In all honesty, the marks she bore were enough for him to know that Eleanor needed his help. The fact that she had come to enquire about a job in the stables despite not knowing anything about horses was also a testament to how desperate she was for money. 

It had been lucky that Cassian had been thinking about the way he probably needed a lady’s maid, as he had recently agreed to marry Nesta. He knew Eleanor would be perfect for the role, so he took her and her children in with no questions. 

He had seen the children around, and they seemed happy, but he didn’t realise how much the children had suffered at their father’s hand. It shocked him that a man could treat his own flesh and blood so poorly, but then again, if a man hit his wife, what morals could he claim to have?

“I know you are a brave young man, Arthur, and I’m sure you protect your mother and sister very well. Sometimes being young can help in these matters,” Cassian told the boy, who was frowning, studying Cassian.

“How?”

“Well, someone like my wife might feel more at ease around you compared to a grown man,” Cassian said, probing to see if the boy would take the bait.

“Your wife?” The boy asked curiously. “Is that the lady who is in the library?”

“Yes! You see, I wish there was a young man like you to keep an eye on her. That way, I’d know she’s safe without making her feel uncomfortable.” Cassian hesitated, wondering how much he should tell the boy. “You see, the man she was married to before was not very nice, and neither was his older brother. He was like your father, actually.” 

At the mention of his father, Arthur looked angry. “I’ll make sure she’s safe from them all!” He declared angrily.

Cassan ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately. “I think she would appreciate some company in the library, especially with all those big heavy books. Perhaps when you have some spare time, you can help her?”

“Yes, of course!”

There was some commotion in the distance, reminding both of them of the broken window situation. “Oh, we’d best hurry to that window!”

They both rushed off and saw a little girl who Cassian assumed was Arthur’s sister Jane. Eleanor and Jacob had also turned up and were trying to comfort the little girl who was beside herself. The commotion had clearly attracted Nesta’s attention, as she hovered at the end of the path to her library, but she came no closer. She instead watched Cassian, probably to see what he would do. Cassian looked up at the window to see Hill already cleaning up the glass that had fallen inside. 

“Is that all?” Cassian asked as he looked at the damage. 

“Yes sir,” Arthur replied. 

Cassian let out a laugh. “I had assumed it would be so much worse. That is only a small crack. I was assuming I would have to replace the whole window and the pane, the way you described it to me.”

“I can arrange for it to be fixed by tomorrow, Cassian, but in the meanwhile, Hill said she’d board up the hole. Is that alright?” Jacob asked. Cassian nodded. 

“See, Janie, I told you there was nothing to worry about,” Arthur said, acting like he hadn’t been scared out of his mind to tell Cassian. Cassian decided to let the boy have this victory, though, as it stopped the little girl from crying.

As Arthur went over to comfort his sister, Eleanor came over to Cassian. “My lord, I can’t thank you enough. I will work unpaid until you have covered the costs of your window replacement,” she said in her quiet, gentle voice. 

“Eleanor, I’m not going to do that. But you don’t have to worry about it anyway. Arthur has taken care of it all.” Eleanor looked at him curiously but said nothing, so Cassian elaborated. “He’s going to spend some time with Nesta, keep an eye on her, and keep her company. I’m worried about her, but your son has a good head on his shoulders, and I trust him.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Eleanor said, smiling as she watched her children talking animatedly to Jacob, trying to explain how the window broke. Jacob was in good humour and went along with their dramatics. 

Cassian was well aware of his wife watching them from a distance, but he felt no need to try and rope her into this conversation. He was content that, finally, he might be able to bring her out of whatever she was going through. Watching the children, so innocent and full of joy, gave him hope. Their resilience reminded him that people could always come back from sadness, but sometimes they needed a little help.

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[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {VI}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: Oh my word...I have had the most difficult time getting this up this week! I'm sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone who reads, comments, likes, and reblogs! x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Dear Cassian,

I must admit that I am completely miserable in Adriata. It has rained all week so I cannot go to the ocean, which is the only thing worthwhile to do here. I have also found zero romantic partners which has brought the boredom to a new level of heinousness. I do not think I can stand this place for more than a fortnight. By the Cauldron, I do not think I can stand it for another day. Perhaps I will cut my trip short. 

Do have enough diabolical fun for the both of us in my absence, will you? If I know you are causing chaos, that is enough for me for now.

Your Favorite,

Mor 

P.S. Try not to attempt to philander with any more married women. It’s very ungentleman-like. 

Nesta

My gowns are lovely.

The modiste has truly outdone herself. There are four in total and each matches the other but has its own personality. The fabrics are all deep blues and grays, meant to bring out my eyes. They are the colors I am most comfortable in. In fact, most of my wardrobe consists of blues and grays but no one has complained about it thus far. 

After transferring payment, my gowns are loaded into my carriage. Before making my way back home, I take advantage of the time alone and make my way down the street to my favorite bakery. I’ve never been one for sweets but they make the best macarons in Velaris and I cannot help but buy a box whenever I visit the modiste. 

It is when I’m coming out of this bakery that I see him.

For a moment, I forget how to walk. Every elegant thought vanishes from my mind and I am suddenly all too aware of the giant box of sweets in my hands. 

I pray he doesn’t see me and for a moment I feel I will get away with it, but then he turns from where he walks across the street and halts when he catches my eye. For a moment, we both stand there, staring at one another. 

Then the world around me comes back to life.

The city streets around me resume, full of life. Carriages hurry past and people rush in and out of the shops. The sky above, recently clear and bright, opens up and the softest of rains falls down upon me and my macarons. 

He still stands just across the street, watching me, although his head has since cocked to the side and a grin has begun spreading across his lips. A sudden sense of embarrassment floods me. I must look foolish, standing here in the rain with a box of baked goods while everyone around me starts to run to safety from the turn in weather. 

Oh, gods. 

He’s coming towards me.

“Lady Nesta,” he begins when he’s halfway across the street, “your dress. You should find cover.” 

I find my voice. “Ah, Mr. Nazari. Yes, I, um…yes.” 

I go to turn on my heels but, in true Lord Cassian fashion, he steps in front of me just before I can get far. “A lady should never be caught in the rain.”

“If it were not for you blocking me I would be well on my way to shelter, my lord.” I try not to sound too demeaning, but I cannot help myself. Every now and then that tone just seeps out and there is nothing I can do to stop it. 

He finds this funny, apparently. A chuckle escapes him and he nods. “Apologies. Good day, Lady Nesta.”

Not Lady Mandray.

Lady Nesta.

I somehow like it better coming from him, like it better than the title the rest of the ton refers to me as.

Lord Cassian steps aside and I go to stroll past him, but I stop when he begins to walk behind me. Turning, I lift a brow. 

He stops and rocks back on his heels. “Do not fear, I am not following you. I walked here and now must walk home, which is this direction. That is all.”

“How far do you have to walk?” I ask, the rain picking up. I worry more for the well-being of my macarons than my hair. 

“A little more than a mile, it’s no worry,” he says, shrugging, then continues on his way.

I hesitate, knowing I shouldn’t ask what I’m about to but asking it anyway. 

“Would you care to join me?” I ask, and he freezes, his back to me. “It seems we’re going the same direction and you should not have to walk in the rain. It seems a storm is brewing. You wouldn’t want to catch a cold.” 

Lord Cassian looks up at the dark clouds, the rain falling directly onto his face as he squints. He looks back to me, his face searching mine, but then he asks, “Are you certain? I don’t mind a little rain.”

Thunder rolls and lightning strikes, and I nearly drop my macarons. I swear it’s purely for my benefit when he clears his throat and says, “It would be a pleasure to join you, Lady Nesta.” 

I nod quickly as a downpour begins and hurry to my coach up the street. By the time I throw myself inside, my dress is drenched and my hat is drooping. Lord Cassian is in no better condition as he slides onto the bench across from me, his jacket drenched and his trousers sticking to his thighs. 

My breath catches at the sight of him and I suddenly feel foolish. It should be impossible for a man to look more dashing sopping wet, but he somehow manages to. That ridiculous, shoulder-length hair of his is soaked and dripping into his cravat. I don’t realize I’m staring until I meet his eyes, and suddenly I’m all too aware of every inch of my body and his. My cheeks turn pink and I have to clasp my hands together to keep them from shaking. 

The carriage jolts as it begins its journey and it makes me jump, which makes Lord Cassian grin…although he tries to suppress it. This was a mistake. That’s what I get for trying to be nice. This very thing reminds me why I do not do nice things often. Nice things always come back to bite me in the ass.

. . . . . . . . . 

Cassian

Lady Nesta looks equally stunning and uncomfortable, although her discomfort is not the type of discomfort that causes alarm. No, it’s the type of discomfort that tells me she does not do this often.

I do not know much about this woman but I do know that she’s not exactly…personable. I’ve heard what other women of the ton think about Nesta — Mor brought the gossip to our recent Monday tea time and I have a feeling Rhys put her up to it — and it’s not good. In fact, the ladies of Velaris think Lady Nesta to be brutally honest and permanently bitter. I, however, value honesty and think a certain level of self-hatred and introverted nature can be mistaken for anger or bitterness. 

Not that it should matter.

After my last encounter with Nesta, I vowed never to be around her again. Especially alone. Yet, the second I saw her stepping out of the bakery with a box-full of what seems to be macarons, my feet decided my thoughts should be damned and acted of their own volition. Before I could fully comprehend what I was doing, I was standing in front of her.

Now, I’m alone with her yet again, stuck in a coach as it rattles down the cobblestone. Outside, it’s pouring as it often does in the spring, and all I can think about is how her eyes keep drifting to me. 

I’m trying to also be inconspicuous about where my eyes are wandering, but from the way her pale cheeks are turning pink, I don’t think I’m doing it properly. 

Her light blue dress is clinging to her skin and I can’t ignore how her breasts are even further on display behind the soaked fabric. It doesn’t help that her chest is rising and falling, rapidly, as if she’s had a difficult time catching her breath since entering the confined space that surrounds us.

“You’re having a ball soon,” I say, because I’m not sure what else to say but I know that we can’t keep sitting here in silence, me trying my best to avoid the swells of her breasts, the way I can see her peaked nipples through the wet cotton.

“I am,” she says, voice soft but firm. “Will you be in attendance?” 

I clear my throat. “Yes. Thank you for the invite.”

I neglect to mention that I originally did not plan to attend, that being in the same room as her is too tempting and I’m currently going mad, but my brothers coaxed me into going. 

She gives me a curt nod before taking a deep breath and letting her eyes wander towards the closed window. I swallow, cursing as my eyes take another dive to her chest and back up again. Once the silence becomes too heavy, allowing my thoughts to run rampant and inappropriately wild, I ask, “Do you do this often?”

Nesta’s eyes snap to mine and she blinks. “Do what?”

“Come into town on your own,” I say, and I watch as she swallows and clenches her jaw. “Not even a maid with you? Isn’t that unbecoming?”

Her eyes narrow and if it wasn’t for the quick rise and fall of her chest, the way her skin is flushed, I would think she was offended and not something else entirely. “Are you implying that I do not live my life as a lady should, my lord?” 

“I’m implying that it is simply not safe for you to be traveling alone,” I say, and she watches as I run my hands down my thighs, trying to eliminate my sweaty palms. It does not work. “You never know others’ intentions when they see a woman alone.”

“It is the middle of the day,” she says, meeting my eye once more. “And I have my driver.”

“Still.”

We stare at one another for just a moment, but that moment is filled with so much silent, skin burning tension that I feel the need to loosen my cravat, shrug off my coat, but I don’t. I let it suffocate me, let her gaze strip me bare instead. 

If I slouched in the slightest, my knees would nearly graze hers. Suddenly the space between us seems so short, too short to make any rational decisions. This was a mistake. I should have stayed on my own damn side of the street. I should have walked. 

“Is that what this is, then?” she asks, and I blink.

“Pardon?”

“Do you have poor intentions, my lord?” she asked, clasping her hands on her lap. I swear they’re trembling.

“Need I remind you that you were the one that offered me a ride in your coach?” I ask, then add, “my lady.”

Her lips part, and it’s so slight that one has to be watching them intently to have seen it, which I am.

She shifts on the bench, words seeming to have left her. It’s the silence that makes me say, only because I cannot stand silence and I’ve already seemed to have dug myself into a hole of wickedness, “Perhaps it is you that has poor intentions.” 

Her head leans to the side, which is somehow unladylike and beautifully cunning at the same time, and the smallest of smiles plays on her lips. There’s no joy in this smile, only a cruel seduction that has my trousers holding back my hardening cock. Now it’s my turn to shift, and she notes it, those dark eyes trailing down until they’ve settled on my lap. Her eyes flare before snapping back up to mine.

“I am a lady,” she says, simply. “Ladies do not have poor intentions, only charitable ones. What kind of lady would I be if I were to let a gentleman walk through a downpour?” 

“Indeed,” I say, and I cannot even help how rough my voice suddenly sounds. 

This is ridiculous. I feel like I have never been around a woman before, or like I am once again sixteen and around a woman for the very first time. Furthermore, she’s married. This is highly inappropriate, but I seem to have lost control.

No.

That’s not entirely true.

If I had lost control her dress would be torn to shreds and I’d have her lying beneath me on this bench, worshiping every inch of her body beneath. 

“I am grateful,” I add, and she nods her head politely in response. I stay in control until a wheel hits a dip in the road and our bodies jostle, and we touch.

My knee hits hers and her foot lands on mine as she tries to stop herself from toppling forward. I don’t even realize my hand is on her leg, just above her knee, until we both look down at it.

I don’t move it.

She doesn’t ask me to, nor does she move at all. All that moves is the rapid rising and falling of her chest — a chest that my eyes are in perfect line with. Mustering every ounce of self control that I have, I go to lean back, to settle myself once again on the opposite bench until this torturous ride is over, but I don’t make it far.

Just as I move, Nesta places her hand on top of mine and I freeze. She’s looking at me wildly, searching my eyes for something. I don’t think I’m breathing at all. I have no thoughts in my mind whatsoever. All I can focus on is her intent eyes, her hand on mine, my hand on her skirts, her lips that are parted and begging to be kissed.   

Neither of us says a word.

“Just—“

Whatever she’s about to say evaporates as the coach slows and when it jerks to a stop, reality steps back in.

Nesta snatches her hand from mine as if she’s been burned and I take the hint, pulling myself back just as the door opens and I’m looking at the front door of my townhouse.

Not wanting to keep the poor lad standing in the storm, I take my leave and hurry to my front door, drenching myself further. I don’t look back at Nesta. I have a feeling she doesn’t want me to.

I have a feeling that whatever she was about to say, whatever would have happened if we just kept driving, would have surely led to utter regret.

Before I shut my door behind me, I watch Nesta’s carriage roll away, gone into the storm.

Calling for my butler, I beg for a drink to calm my still pounding heart. 

[westrangecollectionkoalaposts]

Think about how fucked up the mating bond is, people get bonded to whoever tf the magic chooses for them considering only how much powerful you are and that your kids will be powerful as fuck, and if you don't like them or some shit happened between you two earlier, sorry but the chances of you ending up with said person in a toxic relationship are still high, look at how many toxic bonds we saw:

we have tamlin's family, his father and brothers were worse than the vanserras and his mom and father were mated, so it didn't matter how much shit his father was, the mom just accepted that.

feysand's bond, fucked up as fuck. after all rhysand put feyre through during UTM, we get to acomaf (and there is also that stupid ring quest, imagine if she died..) where he gives her a long ass sad background story and she just accepted it.... yet if she wasn't his mate she would be pretty much death in book 1, and oh wait, let's not forget the fact he hid life threatening information about her pregnancy, and like, she is still with him as if nothing had happened.

nessian bond! also fucked up, we have cassian watching nesta fall the stairs and be like "haha i watched bc if get to the end, i would have to take you back upstairs, also you fell bc you didnt train so it is all YOUR fault", cassian telling her everybody hates her, cassian doesn't understand how her sisters love her, cassian taking her to a hike bc she (25 years old) was the only one between all those 500+ years old bitches who had balls to tell feyre she was gonna die before christmas, makes her carry a bag that is a third of her weight (lets say she is 1,75m and weights 60kg, she was carrying around 20kg and according to a search in google, a hiking backpack shouldn't weight more than 10 percent of the person's weight, which in this case Nesta should be carrying 6kg and not more than that...) during this hike. He has sex with her after she gets sexual assaulted by a mythical creature, he gets butthurt when she says a fact about riceman, gets angry when she gets uncomfortabled about the fact he wants everyone to know they share bed (and he literaly says exactly that), like, he even says that he didn't choice to be shackled to her, that means he wouldn't choice her => he wouldn't be with her if there wasn't a bond. During acosf we see that he knows shit about her and he doesnt even like her but he stilld wants her exclusively bc of the bond and nesta is molded and treated like shit until submission so she can fit him and his family. Let's not forget that whatever thing nesta disagres, cassian get like "is that because i am a bastard low born nobody and my ass is flat?". Also from a logic point of view (considering the power thing and that the cauldron chooses who you are mated with and it blessed elain with gifts and got angry at nesta bc she took its power) wouldn't make more sense if nesta ended up with a high lord/high lord heir or azriel? nesta is powerful as fuck, powerful to the point rhysand, a pOWErfuLl high lord (take his telepathy away and he is in the same level as the other high lords) struggles to contain her power, she is in the same level of a high lord, and i know cassian had 7 siphons but it is azriel who has not only 7 siphons but is also a shadowsinger, they are poweful but not in the same level as a high lord/nesta yet azriel at least has a special power, so between them two azriel is more logical, and in a general point of view, a high lord/heir... (i repeat, this bond was a curse threw at nesta)

drakon and miryam, too fucked up, she was a slave, that was given to him as gift from his bride/wife/girlfriend whatever. she was a slave, and half human, and during this time humans were all slaves. and drakon, prince, faerie... she was with jurian then somehow she fell in love with drakon(?) i don't remember their story properly, but i am pretty sure that if there wasn't a mating bond, they would not have any relationship. I honestly find this one too weird/absurd that I even have a theory that drakon is daemanti and manipulated miryam to ''love'' him (pretty much like rhysand seems to be doing/did to feyre... maybe that is why drakon and rhysand were friends or something, drakon taught him the telepathy things)

vs non-toxic:

Lucien and Elain, they aren't together, elain doesn't want to get close to lucien and he respects it, lucien doesn't force himself into her, keeps his distance s he is aware she is not comfortable, he let her know they are bonded from the beginning as opposite to some people up there...

Kallias and viviane - we didn't see much about them but considering they were friends since young age, so we are supposed to assume they are good...

Honestly if i was faerie i would be afraid of having a mate.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

And They Were Roommates, OMG, They Were Roommates: Part Eleven

A/N: Look! I wrote the smut! I only made everyone wait for (checks notes) eleven chapters. Also, I wish everyone could see the faces I made while reading this back to edit. I don't know what demon possessed me when I wrote this, but I do know I probably need to bathe in holy water now. Anyways! Hope everyone enjoys this very NFSW chapter. Be a good girl and tell me what you think after ;)

Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Cassian blinks up at the ceiling, counting his breaths in time with the pounding in his head. The morning light spilling in from his bedroom windows prickles and gnaws at his eyes, but the pain is nothing compared to the tightness of his chest. Icy, stinging hands twist at his heart, squeeze at his lungs, until it's hard to breathe. Until he feels like he's going to be sick.

How could he be so stupid? How could he just blurt out his feelings for Nesta like that? Gods, what was he thinking? Nesta and Eris had only broken up a week ago. She told him he was her best friend, for Cauldron’s sake. And what did Cassian do? Take his idiocy levels to the stratosphere.

Cassian groans, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. He turns his head and finds a glass of water set on his bedside table, a bottle of painkillers sitting beside it. He hadn’t even heard Nesta come into his room. The sight has the ache in his chest growing, his heart stuttering even as it cracks and shatters, and he buries his face in his pillow, letting out another groan.

A clatter from the kitchen draws Cassian’s attention, and he realizes Nesta must already be awake. He wonders if he can spend the rest of the day hiding in his room, if he can somehow avoid the inevitable conversation, the disaster he’ll be walking head first into once he steps outside the safety of his bedroom door. The way his stomach growls loudly seems to protest the idea, and he can’t help but agree.

Time to face the music.

Cassian pulls himself up into a sitting position, quickly downing the glass of water. He scrapes his hair back and away from his face and stands up. Just like ripping off a bandaid. That’s the best approach here. He’ll face Nesta, deal with whatever awkwardness, probably with Nesta chewing him out deservedly, and he’ll just try and hope that they can still remain friends, beg that she doesn’t up and move out.

One last deep breath for courage, and Cassian pulls open his bedroom door, stepping out into the hallway. He can clearly hear the sounds of kitchen cabinets opening and closing, hear the shuffle of Nesta’s feet against the hardwood floors. He can already so clearly picture her, wearing soft comfortable clothes, strands of her braid loose from sleep, maybe a few pillow creases still smudged across her skin. He squeezes his eyes shut at the mental image, his heart lodging so hard and so suddenly into his throat, he swears he’s going to choke on it. He tries to breathe through it, clenches his hands into fists and tries to will his feet to step forward, but he can’t do it.

He can’t do this.

Cassian spins on his heel and retreats to the bathroom, practically slamming the door behind him in his haste. He knows Nesta probably heard it. Most definitely heard it. But it’s hard to focus on anything other than the way his heartbeat pounds hard enough he can hear the thrumming beat echoing in his ears, the way his chest heaves with every shaky inhale. He grips the edges of the sink, meeting his own gaze in the mirror.

“You were drunk. You didn’t know what you were saying. You didn’t mean it,” Cassian practices, hoping the stern quality of his voice somehow convinces himself and his reflection alike.

It’s easier said than done. Cassian knows that if his reflection could talk back to him, he’d tell him what an idiot he is. Probably slap him upside the head the way Azriel always does. Gods, he can practically hear the muttered chiding of his brother, can perfectly picture the way Azriel would shake his head in that unimpressed, disappointed way of his.

“Nesta is your friend. We’re not going to ruin this,” Cassian tries to continue but the words press against his windpipe, and he swallows hard, dropping his head between his shoulders. “We’re not going to lose her.”

Cassian lets out a soft exhale and straightens, sharing one last determined nod with his reflection. He turns back around and yanks open the bathroom door, coming face to face with a pair of wide, stormy blue eyes. Even with the anxiety still roiling his stomach and ratcheting up his nerve endings, his heart still skips a beat in his chest at the sight of her. Traitor.

“Nesta,” Cassian breathes, reaching a hand up to push through his hair before wincing when he remembers he pulled it back.

“Did you just puke?” Nesta asks, her lips tugging down in a frown. “I knew I should have cut you off after the second round of shots.”

“I’m fine,” Cassian assures her, even if his voice sounds hoarse.

Nesta opens her mouth like she wants to say something more before thinking better of it, turning on her heel instead and heading back toward the kitchen. “I made breakfast.”

“I thought one of the terms of our deal was that I did all the cooking?”

Cassian tries to keep his tone light, his words teasing, but it falls short even to his own ears, and he's glad Nesta's back is to him, that she won't see him grimace. He follows Nesta into the kitchen, the greasy scent of eggs and sausage flooding his senses and making his mouth water. Nesta grabs a fresh glass and fills it with water, sliding it across the kitchen island to him before grabbing two plates.

“That may have been the deal, but it didn’t exactly seem like you were in any state for cooking,” Nesta comments idly, piling a healthy amount of scrambled eggs onto each plate.

Cassian lets out a quiet huff, certainly not disagreeing with her assessment. Nesta passes him a plate, and Cassian accepts it with a quiet thanks, happy to fill his stomach with greasy food to help soak up any remnants of last night’s alcohol and to heal the last tendrils of his hangover. He settles into one of the kitchen island stools and digs in, already a few bites in before he realizes that Nesta hasn’t joined him, opting instead to stay on the other side of the island.

Cassian raises an eyebrow, a silent question in his expression, but Nesta doesn’t even meet his gaze. She keeps her eyes firmly on her own plate, her fork moving around the scrambled eggs aimlessly. Even from this angle, Cassian can see the way her mouth is slightly pinched, that little crease that forms between her brows when she furrows them.

Oh.

So much for them at least waiting until after breakfast. So much for that tiny flicker of a flame of hope that Cassian held on to that maybe Nesta had forgotten the previous night and they could pretend it never happened and go back to normal. With a soft sigh, he sets his fork down, the clatter finally drawing Nesta’s attention to him.

“Can we just get it over with?” Cassian requests, crossing his arms to give his hands something to do, his appetite suddenly vanishing.

Nesta’s frown deepens, and she tilts her head slightly. “Get what over with?”

“Come on, Nes. I know you. I’m sure you stayed up all night rehearsing exactly what you’re going to say, so have it. I can take it.”

Nesta pushes her plate to the side, folding her hands neatly in front of her, her spine straight as steel. She’s clearly readying for whatever words are about to spill past her lips, and Cassian can do nothing but swallow hard and wait. His heart twists and writhes between his ribs, ticking up and up until it pounds a thunderous beat through his veins. He tries desperately to keep his face neutral, to keep to his words that he can take it, even as his mind cycles through the different potential scenarios awaiting him, each worse than the next.

“I lied to you,” Nesta finally says, her voice quiet.

It’s Cassian’s turn to frown, and he blinks a few times while he tries to process her words, to determine if he heard her correctly. “You… lied?”

“When I told you about Eris and I breaking up, I told you that it was because he thought we were too close and it made him uncomfortable, but that was only half true,” Nesta explains, nibbling on her bottom lip before seeming to steel her nerves again and letting out a soft sigh. “What actually happened was that he could tell how you felt toward me, could see it. He actually said it was quite obvious…”

Cassian can’t stop his scoff, his anxiety from before quickly morphing into annoyance, burning like embers and threatening to grow into full blown flames that lick at his veins. “So, what? You knew and just didn’t want to say anything? Wanted to watch me embarrass myself rather than put me out of my misery?”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Nesta snaps, her own eyes blazing like storm clouds.

“Fine. Go on then,” Cassian mutters, shrugging his shoulders in what he hopes is a casual manner.

“He also said it was obvious that the feelings were mutual. Something he’s not exactly the first person to tell me… and every time before that, I would deny it or argue that there was nothing there because you’re Cassian, you’re my best friend, but I don’t know, something that day, when Eris was saying all that he was saying, something clicked, and I started really thinking about it and imagining it, but then, of course, I started second guessing myself and I—”

Cassian is moving before Nesta is even halfway done speaking, stepping around the kitchen island and into her space. Nesta continues to speak even as her eyes follow him, as her eyebrows start to dip in confusion, but when Cassian is close enough, he lifts his hands to slide his palms across her cheeks, to cradle her jaw, and the gesture effectively cuts her off. In the echoing silence, Cassian can hear the way her breath hitches in her lungs.

“So, is it mutual then?” Cassian asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

He needs to know, needs to hear her properly confirm it. Hope blooms so surely in his chest, roots digging in between his ribs, and it’s terrifying, even as Cassian grasps and holds onto it with all his might. Nesta continues to stare up at him, but she doesn’t pull away, so Cassian dares to lean in closer still, until their noses brush together, until he can feel Nesta’s breath skating across his lips.

“Nes?”

“Yes.”

Cassian’s thumb traces the curve of Nesta’s cheek, entranced by the way her eyes flutter closed. “So, we’re really doing this?”

Rather than answer, Nesta surges up onto her toes, pressing her lips firmly against his. Cassian doesn’t wait a second before kissing her back, dropping a hand around her waist and tugging her flush against him. Nesta has one hand fisted in his tee, her other hand pulling his hair free so she can bury her fingers there, and when she pulls at the strands, Cassian groans into her mouth.

Kissing Nesta is better than he could have ever imagined. It’s a breath of fresh air that leaves Cassian’s entire body feeling electric, even as something entwined with his soul unlocks, some beast deep within himself finally settling. The slide of Nesta’s lips against his, the feel of her in his arms, of her pressed against him, it’s as familiar as it sends a thrill running up his spine.

Cassian deepens the kiss, and he can taste the sweet creamer that Nesta loves to add to her coffee and something that is so distinctly Nesta. He wants to memorize it, memorize this moment, memorize her. His hands slip further down until he can grasp at Nesta's thighs, hoisting her up. He settles her on the kitchen island, staying pressed between her spread thighs.

The sound of shattering porcelain breaks the moment and has Cassian and Nesta pulling away from each other. They turn to find Nesta's plate now on the floor, broken shards and bits of scrambled eggs littered across the hardwood.

“That was definitely your fault,” Nesta tells him, her nose scrunching slightly in disgust as she eyes the mess. "I'm not cleaning that up."

“That's a problem for later,” Cassian assures her, using a finger under her chin to guide her attention back to him and kissing her again.

“Cassian,” Nesta mumbles against his lips, but Cassian only allows her to pull far enough away that he can focus his lips’ attention on her neck, delighted that he can feel as much as hear the way Nesta gasps when he drags his teeth over her pulse point. “Bedroom. Bedroom now.”

Cassian pulls Nesta back into his arms, her thighs snug around his hips. He kneads his hands into her ass until Nesta is moaning into his mouth and carefully avoids the broken pieces of porcelain on the floor to walk them out of the kitchen. It takes all his focus to get them down the hallway, to avoid them careening into the walls or crashing to the floor, especially when Nesta keeps tugging at his hair like she can't pull him close enough.

Somehow, miraculously, Cassian gets them through the doorway to his bedroom, depositing Nesta onto his blankets. He reaches a hand back, fisting it in the fabric of his tee and yanking it up and off. He can feel Nesta's eyes raking down his chest like phantom nails scraping across his skin, and he swallows hard to suppress a shudder as he kneels onto the mattress.

“Enjoying the view, Nes?” Cassian teases, settling between her splayed legs, sliding his hands up and up until he reaches the hem of where her sleep shorts sit.

“Just getting my ogling in now that I can,” Nesta shoots back, but the breathy tone of her voice gives away how affected she is.

“You could've ogled before. I wouldn't have complained.”

“What? Like you did? That's right. You weren't subtle.”

“If you're expecting an apology, you won't get one," Cassian promises, leaning down to nose along her jawline. "It's not my fault you're so gorgeous.”

Cassian’s hands slide up over Nesta’s hips, tangling in the hem of her oversized tee and tugging it up over her ribcage. He pulls back just enough to slip it off her, tossing it to his bedroom floor. He kisses a line from Nesta’s shoulder all the way up her neck, biting a mark behind her ear until Nesta is keening and shuddering beneath him. She bucks her hips up against him, desperately chasing friction, but Cassian merely presses his hands against them, pinning her against the mattress.

He changes paths, kissing down along Nesta’s collarbones and biting teasingly at her breast over the comfortable bralette she has on. It’s the next item that Cassian tugs off and discards, finally able to lavish Nesta’s breasts with the proper attention they deserve. He swirls his tongue and groans against her skin, taking his sweet time. Nesta continues to writhe against him, so Cassian tightens his grip on her hip, moving his other hand to palm at her other breast. Every moan, every breathy whine goes straight to Cassian’s cock, and when his name falls past her lips, Cassian has to press his own hips down against the mattress to get some relief.

Cassian sits back on his haunches, admiring the flush that’s painted across Nesta’s chest and high on her cheeks, her hair cascaded across his pillows. Her eyes are blown out and such a bright color of blue that suddenly beautiful doesn’t seem a strong enough word. He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of her sleep shorts and panties, pulling both down slowly, teasingly.

“Now be a good girl and lie still,” Cassian tells her, slipping them the rest of the way off.

Nesta tosses her head back, and the loud moan that tears its way out of her throat, her hips bucking up against the air, has Cassian stilling. Nesta’s eyes snap back open as though she’s just realized what’s happened, that blush on her cheeks deepening, and try as he might, Cassian can’t bite back the smirk pulling across his face.

“Does that do it for you?” he teases lightly, his smirk only growing at Nesta’s responding scowl.

“Fuck off.”

“Now now, Nes. That doesn’t sound very good to me,” Cassian chastises, gripping Nesta’s calves and tugging her even closer to him. “And good girls get their pussies eaten.”

Nesta tips her head back against the pillow, letting out a pained groan. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

“I’m trying to be sexy.”

“I feel like I now know why you’ve been single so long.”

“We both know why I’ve been single so long,” Cassian tells her, skating his fingers up Nesta’s calves, over her knees and to her thighs. He says it teasingly, but he means it too, the words genuine in a way that his chest aches for just a moment. It may have taken him longer than it should to realize it, but it’s always been and always would be Nesta for him.

“Sorry I made you wait so long,” Nesta offers quietly.

“I’m not,” Cassian dismisses, leaning down again to kiss her, this kiss a soft and sweet press of their lips together. “As long as it led us to this moment.”

“I think I preferred sexy Cassian over sappy Cassian,” Nesta teases, rolling her eyes fondly.

Cassian chuckles, but he kisses her again, deeper this time. He traces a path with his lips down her neck, her chest, her stomach. He skips over where Nesta really wants him, pressing a smirk against the skin of her calf at Nesta’s whine before he kisses back up her leg. He pauses as he gets to Nesta’s thigh, needing a moment to really take it all in, to recognize that Nesta is really here, in his bed, in his arms.

“Cassian,” Nesta whines, bucking her hips up again. “Come on, already.”

“Sorry. Just making sure I’m not dreaming and this is actually happening.”

“I’d be more than happy to smack you in the head to prove you’re not dreaming.”

“Definitely not a dream then,” Cassian shoots back, nipping at Nesta’s inner thigh in retaliation. “Dream Nesta is much nicer to me.”

Nesta rolls her eyes, and Cassian can already see the retort poised and ready on the tip of her tongue, so he does the one thing he knows will shut her up. He leans in and licks a thick stripe up to her clit. Any words Nesta was going to speak choke off into a moan, and he knows he’s won.

“Cat got your tongue?” Cassian remarks, squeezing at the flesh of Nesta’s thighs. “You’re already so wet for me and we’ve barely even started.”

Nesta lets out an annoyed huff, but she doesn’t protest or say anything more. Instead, she buries her hand in Cassian’s hand, shoving his head down and where she wants him. Cassian chuckles softly, but he’s more than happy to give her what she wants, alternating between long licks and fucking her with his tongue, unable to hold back his own groans. He turns his attention to her clit, sucking it between his lips and relishing in the sound it pulls from Nesta’s lips.

He keeps his eyes on Nesta the whole time, memorizing the way her mouth parts in pleasure, the way her chest heaves, calculating what she likes, what gets the loudest response from her. She has one hand twisting in the sheets, the other still buried in his hair and holding him just how she wants while she cants her hips against his face.

Cassian pulls back to catch his breath, but he doesn't relent, pressing a finger into her, the welcoming heat squeezing the digit. He pumps his finger in and out, curling it until he finds that spot that has Nesta keening, has her back arching up.

“You're so gorgeous,” Cassian breathes, biting another mark into Nesta's hip bone.

“Cassian, fuck. More. Please,” Nesta gets out between moans, pressing down against his finger.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” He slips a second finger in beside the first, picking up the pace as he fucks her with them. “You take my fingers so well. Are you going to take my cock like this too?”

“Yes! Gods, yes.”

“Are you going to come for me, baby? Going to be my good girl and come all over my fingers and face?”

Nesta lets out a half choked off moan in response, and Cassian knows she's close. Can feel it in the way her walls flutter and squeeze around his fingers, in the way her hips seem to be moving against him like they have a mind of their own. He dips his head to return his mouth's attention to her clit, licking and sucking with a renewed fervor while his fingers continue to work her.

It doesn't take long after that for Nesta to shatter, her back arching off the bed while she practically shouts his name. Cassian works her through it until she comes back down, slipping his fingers free and sliding up her body. Nesta has her arm thrown over her eyes so he presses a gentle kiss to the center of her chest instead.

“You good, Nes?” Cassian asks, unable to keep the smugness from his tone.

Nesta lets her arm fall back against the mattress with a quiet thump. "I don't care that you've never had a woman over the entire time I've lived here, you better have condoms in this room."

“Ready to go again already? Clearly, I'll have to try harder next time to make sure you're really boneless.”

“Why don't you try harder right now?” Nesta challenges, settling Cassian with a look that has his entire body alighting.

Cassian is quick to scramble up onto his knees, reaching toward his bedside table. He fumbles around in the drawer until he finds what he's looking for. The small, foil packet poised between his fingers, he leans back in and kisses Nesta, wasting no time in pressing his tongue into her mouth and deepening the kiss.

The moan Nesta lets out against his lips is electricity straight to his cock, and he dips his hips, rocking them down against her. Nesta's hands push at the waistband of his sweats, clearly growing impatient when her hand merely reaches inside and grasps him. Cassian would be embarrassed by the loud groan he lets out if Nesta's fingers curled around him didn't feel so heavenly. She pumps her hand slowly, twisting her wrist just right, and he knows he won't last much longer if she keeps this up.

“There'll be time for you to play another time,” Cassian tells her, catching her wrist and pinning her hand back against the mattress instead. “But right now I want to be inside you.”

“Then take your pants off already.”

“Has anyone ever told you you're bossy in bed?”

“You like it.”

Cassian hums consideringly, but he doesn't disagree. He shifts up enough that he can slip his sweats off the rest of the way, tossing them into the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. He tears open the condom and slides it on, Nesta spreading her legs wider so he can settle between them.

“Lift your hips for me, baby,” Cassian requests, quickly grabbing a pillow and sliding it under Nesta's hips when she does as he's asked.

He takes his cock in his hand, teasing it through Nesta's folds and the wetness gathered there. He can't stop staring, still can't quite wrap his mind around the fact this is truly happening. He's really about to sleep with the woman he loves, with Nesta.

“Cassian, please,” Nesta whines, wrapping her legs more tightly around him and trying to nudge him forward.

Cassian notches himself more firmly against her, but then he merely smirks up at her. “Ask nicely like a good girl.”

“Please fuck me. Please.”

Cassian leans in and slots their mouths together at the same moment he presses his hips forward. Nesta lets out a shuddering breath against his lips and Cassian isn't even sure he's breathing as he slides in inch by inch. It takes all his willpower to hold himself still, but he can feel the way Nesta clenches around him, so he shifts his head to press soothing kisses along her neck.

“Okay, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” Nesta assures him, shifting her hips until they're both moaning. “Now, fucking move.”

“Still so bossy,” Cassian chastises, punctuating his words with a hard thrust.

He sets a brutal and hard pace, snapping his hips against her own until Nesta is a keening and writhing mess beneath him. His eyes skitter down, entranced by the way they're joined, addicted to her fluttering around him.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Cassian breathes hotly in Nesta's ear. “Take me so well. Like you were made for me. So perfect for me.”

“Cassian,” Nesta practically shouts, tossing her head back as she moans loudly.

“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you. Let this whole apartment building hear how good I fuck you.”

Cassian shifts his hand to grasp Nesta's thigh, hoisting it higher on his hip and holding it there. It allows him to sink in deeper, to hit at a new angle that has him groaning right along Nesta's moans as their bodies move together.

“Gods, don't stop,” Nesta chants, tugging at Cassian's hair like it will keep him there. As if he'd ever be anywhere else. “Right there. Fuck, right there.”

Cassian chuckles softly, but he reaches his hand between them, rubbing her clit in tantalizing circles. “Come on, Nes. Want to feel you come around my cock. Want to watch you come again.”

It seems to be the only coaxing she needs. Nesta clamps down tight around him, her whole body practically shaking as she shatters, a half choked off moan of his name tumbling past her lips.

“That's my good girl,” Cassian praises, still stroking his hips to work her through it. “So fucking gorgeous like this.”

Cassian tries to keep steady, but his thrusts start to stutter as he feels his own orgasm looming. A few more snaps of his hips, and he buries his face in the crook of Nesta's neck, moaning as he crashes over the edge. For a second, he swears his vision blacks out, his mind going blank and fuzzy. When he comes back to himself, Nesta's fingers are carding softly through his hair, their bodies still pressed together and her legs still snug around his hips.

“Fuck me,” Cassian mutters against her skin.

“I just did, you idiot.”

It's the most Nesta thing to say ever that Cassian can't help but laugh, her own melodious laughter joining in. Cassian pushes back up onto his forearms, but that’s as far as he goes. He shifts his weight enough that he can cradle Nesta’s jaw in his hand and kiss her. It’s slow and sensual, and it’s with reluctance that he finally does pull away from her.

They clamber off the bed to clean up, and watching Nesta swipe his shirt off the floor and pull it on leaves Cassian breathless and gaping after her as she walks out of the room and toward the bathroom. Already, his blood starts to heat again, and he has to swallow hard and shake his head to clear the thought before he follows behind her into the bathroom.

Even though it’s still fairly early in the day, once they’re done, Cassian wraps his arms around Nesta’s waist and carries her right back to his bedroom. He tosses her onto the mattress and quickly jumps on the bed as well, pulling the blankets up over them both and tugging Nesta back into his arms. She rolls her eyes at his antics, but the soft way she pushes his hair off his forehead and away from his face betrays her fondness.

“I know I probably should have said this before we fucked each other's brains out,” Cassian starts, shifting forward on the pillow so his nose bumps Nesta’s. “But I meant what I said even when I was drunk. About loving you. I am absolutely, stupidly in love with you.”

“Are you sure that’s not just the sex afterglow talking?” Nesta teases, her eyes alight with amusement.

“I’d be more than happy to prove it to you by reminding you in an hour. And tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. And the—”

Nesta covers Cassian’s mouth with her hand, effectively cutting him off. “You are the worst.”

Cassian curls his own fingers around Nesta’s hand, tugging it away enough that he can properly press a kiss to the center of her palm. He settles their joined hand over his heart, unable to bite back his wide, goofy grin as he repeats, “I love you.”

Nesta’s answering smile is soft in a way Cassian’s only seen a few times, but he’s sure he’ll never get tired of, mind already working on ways to pull it out again. It’s a smile he knows is only for him, and it sends his heart fluttering at what it means, the implication, even as Nesta’s whispered words echo the confirmation, “I love you too.”

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog​ @lifeisntafantasy​ @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl​ @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld​ @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust​ @a-trifling-matter​ @blueunoias​ @kookskoocie​ @cassiansbigwingspan​ @unlikelypersonalknight1​ @blurredlamplight

[moodymelanist]

Where The Light Won't Find You

Nesta Archeron descends into the darkness.

What if Nesta went into the Court of Nightmares?

So... fully blaming @separatist-apologist for this one. Her evil!Elucien is so sexy that I had to get in on the fun (but for eventually evil!Nessian). No clue when I’ll keep updating this but I’m making myself post this now while I’m excited LOL

Read on AO3 here!

Chapter One

✵✵✵✵✵✵

Nesta

Nesta thought she’d been angry living with her father in that tiny hovel. She thought she’d been furious seeing him do nothing day after day, content to let them starve until Feyre went into the woods, but nothing compared to how livid she was at her youngest sister forcing her to submit. Yet again. Because somehow, little Feyre always knew best.

As she sat in Feyre’s ridiculously opulent living room, wallowing in just how out of place she was, she leveled a glare in her sister’s direction. Feyre was flanked by that arrogant husband of hers, who was clearly enjoying himself, along with Amren and Cassian. Elain was nowhere to be found, and neither was the Shadowsinger, but he at least had the excuse of likely being out on Court business. 

“I’m not moving to the House of Wind,” Nesta said flatly, her tone cold as ice. “I’m not a member of this court. You can’t do this.”

“It’s not up for debate,” Amren replied just as frostily. “You can either go to the House of Wind to train with Cassian in the mornings and work in the library in the afternoons...”

Nesta turned to her sister and completely ignored Amren, careful to keep her face blank even as she raged inside. She hadn’t spoken to Amren since their fight on the pleasure barge earlier that summer, and she had no intention of changing that now. “Or?”

“Or we can take you back to the human lands,” Feyre continued, shifting in her seat under the intensity of Nesta’s gaze. “It’s up to you.”

“Those are my only options?” Nesta almost snarled. Anyone with a brain could see that these weren’t true choices; she was just picking between two prisons. One a gilded cage and the other a guaranteed death sentence, especially if she was returned anywhere near their old village. She hadn’t heard about anything of note after the war with Hybern, but she hadn’t forgotten the grove of ash trees in Graysen’s estate.

“I— yes.” Feyre squared her shoulders and stopped her fidgeting long enough to stare Nesta down. “We discussed them, and we feel that’s the best we can offer you right now.”

“You have no right,” Nesta hissed, practically seeing red from how enraged she was. She was a grown woman – how dare Feyre and her new family act like they had any authority over her. “You dragged Elain and I into this mess. You are the reason I’m like this, why I’m stuck here in this wretched body—”

“Enough,” Rhysand snapped. Night-kissed power leaked from him and Nesta made sure her silver fire didn’t shake their precious mansion in response. As far as everyone knew, her powers had vanished with the Cauldron, and she wanted to keep things that way. “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”

“Be quiet, or you can leave,” Feyre told him sternly before Nesta could hiss something back. Feyre leveled her own fierce glare at her husband before turning back to Nesta. “I don’t care what you say, Nesta. You’re going up to the House and training, and that’s final.”

“How is Elain supposed to see me?” Nesta fired back. “How am I supposed to do anything without assistance?”

“You’re welcome to walk down the ten thousand steps,” Feyre suggested, even though everyone knew Nesta wasn’t physically able to do that. “Or someone can transport you, if they’re so inclined.”

“Elain can do neither of these things,” Nesta hissed. She didn’t miss how Feyre’s shoulders tightened just slightly at the mention of their sister – perhaps Elain wasn’t folding into Feyre’s little plan as easily as Feyre assumed she would. “How am I supposed to see her?”

Nesta hadn’t spoken to Elain much since last Solstice, but it certainly wasn’t for Elain’s lack of trying. Nesta just didn’t have the words to explain how heavily the darkness weighed on her, especially when Elain seemed to be thriving here in Velaris. She didn’t know how to talk about how when she wasn’t numb to everything, all she could feel was rage. 

Still, she would use every opportunity to try and wiggle her way out of yet another one of Feyre’s absurd demands. Elain would forgive her.

“You can work that out between yourselves,” Feyre answered smoothly. “But I’m sure Cassian would be happy to take you to see Elain.”

Nesta slid her gaze over to him, curling her lip as she looked him up and down. He hadn’t bothered to use that time he’d promised her on the battlefield, and she had no plans to ask him for it now. “I don’t want him anywhere near me.”

“Too bad, sweetheart,” Cassian replied mildly. His wings shifted behind him, betraying his true anxiety about the situation, and she held back from calling him out on it. “We’re training tomorrow whether you like it or not. I suggest you get a good night’s sleep.”

“I don’t recall asking for your guidance,” she snapped. It was almost painful to look at him, knowing he’d participated in planning this farce of an intervention, so she pursed her lips and dismissed his presence altogether. She turned her gaze back to Feyre, whose cheeks had turned slightly red in anger. So she could get upset on behalf of her new family, but not for Nesta. Never for Nesta. “I want to speak to you. Alone.”

“Fine.” Feyre waited until it was just her and Nesta before she spoke again. “You can’t insult your way out of this one, Nesta. No matter what you say, I’m done paying for this behavior.”

“You’re not paying for anything,” Nesta cruelly pointed out. She knew Feyre was right about not being able to insult her way out of this, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. “It’s your precious husband’s money.”

Feyre flinched slightly as the mark landed as intended. “It doesn’t matter whose money it is. You’re embarrassing us, and I won’t have it anymore. We won’t have it anymore.”

“I didn’t know my life was under your discretion,” Nesta replied flatly. Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest as the walls continued to close in, but she wasn’t going to go quietly. “I didn’t know you could even feel embarrassment with all the money he throws around.”

“You spent five hundred gold marks last night, Nesta!” Feyre shouted, her eyes flashing. Nesta refused to be cowed; she’d seen Feyre get upset so many times over the years it barely even registered anymore. “Do you have any idea how much money that is? And how ridiculous it was to see what you spent it on? How humiliating it was for my family to see that?”

My family. Something Nesta clearly wasn’t a part of anymore. “You saving face isn’t my problem—”

“It is now,” Feyre retorted. “You’re going to train at Windhaven with Cassian, and you’re going to work in the library. You won’t be causing any more trouble.”

“I won’t go.”

“We packed up your things and sent them over to the House. Rhys spoke to the landlord, and your building is going to be torn down and rebuilt as a shelter for families displaced by the war.”

Nesta was so caught off guard she couldn’t hold back her power for a moment, gritting her teeth as she fought against the silver fire flowing through her veins. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s already done, Nesta,” Feyre told her. She took a deep breath and schooled her features into careful neutrality, something she’d clearly learned from Nesta, before continuing. “Are we finished having this pointless argument? Everyone is waiting.”

“I’m never speaking to you again,” Nesta vowed, her voice almost shaking with rage. How dare Feyre take away one of the only choices she’d ever made for herself, as if it were nothing? Like Nesta herself was nothing, just a doll to be moved from cage to cage as Feyre saw fit.

“That’s fine,” Feyre replied, shrugging before getting up off the couch. “Talk to whoever you’d like. It won’t change the reality of the situation.”

A few minutes later, Nesta found herself standing in the entry hall with Cassian and Feyre. She said nothing as they made idle conversation around her, confirming details of how they were getting to the House and which of Nesta’s things had been packed against her will. Her skin crawled at the thought of them forcing their way into her apartment, combing their fingers through her possessions, judging her for the way she’d decided to live. 

She wasn’t stupid – she knew she wasn’t living up to the standards everyone had set for her. Rhea had made her expectations for Nesta’s life very clear, and Feyre and Elain had heard her parrot their mother’s wishes for so long that they’d been appalled to see the kind of neighborhood she’d ended up in after the war. But it had been her decision, her choice about where to live, how to dress, what shops to frequent. It was supposed to be up to her to decide when she would see her so-called family; she hadn’t wanted to reveal any kind of weakness to them, so she’d kept herself as far removed as possible.

And now she couldn’t even have that.

Instead of contributing to the conversation, Nesta focused on keeping that raging power of hers under control. She might have been almost blinded with rage, but she didn’t want to explode and accidentally hurt anyone. It was bad enough that she hadn’t been able to keep herself under control during her argument with Feyre; she wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

Any hope of quieting her anger disappeared as Morrigan waltzed into the room, exchanging hugs with Cassian and Feyre before saying something to Nesta about wearing her leathers in Windhaven tomorrow.

Nesta just looked at her, an icy glare firmly in place; there was no need for a mask for that one. Morrigan gave her the fakest smile she’d ever seen before turning back to her friends – no, her family – to continue laughing and joking with them. 

Feyre eventually cleared her throat before walking over to Nesta. “Today you can focus on getting settled on the House and unpacking your things. Maybe get some rest?”

Nesta said nothing, not even looking in Feyre’s direction. She decided to focus her attention on the wall across from her; as children, being ignored bothered Feyre like nothing else. Perhaps it still held true.

Morrigan and Cassian continued poking fun at one another as Feyre shifted awkwardly on her feet. “Alright. We’ll talk soon.”

We won’t, Nesta thought as she continued to ignore Feyre. When Morrigan offered her elbows to her and Cassian, Nesta reached out and grabbed one, keeping her chin high even as she wanted to scream in frustration. She remained silent as Morrigan gave Cassian a look, which he thankfully didn’t return. He winked at Feyre instead before they disappeared, which somehow felt worse.

She intentionally tensed her body as Cassian grabbed her in mid-air. He sighed before flying them safely to the balcony below, and the second his feet were on the ground, she shoved her way out of his grip and made her way towards the door. It was cold out and she hadn’t brought her gloves, but she wasn’t going to admit she needed any extra warmth, lest Cassian get any ideas.

“You’ll be in your old room,” he called out to her retreating back. She didn’t stop walking, placing one hand on the door handle before turning to scowl at him. “My room’s a level above that.”

“Why would I need to know that?” she asked, pulling the thick door open with a grunt. Had the door gotten heavier, or had she gotten weaker? Probably the latter, she realized. She knew she’d gotten smaller and smaller as the months had passed by, but to struggle opening a door was a new low. 

That seemed to be a pattern for her these days.

“Maybe you’ll need someone to read you a bedtime story,” he teased while following her inside. He held the door open effortlessly and she scowled even further at him for showing off his strength. “I hope it’s one of those smutty books you like so much.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response as she walked towards the stairs, eager to get to her room and finally be alone. He followed her and easily matched her pace with his much longer legs as they walked downstairs. “I don’t remember asking for an escort.”

“I’m just making sure you make it there in one piece,” he replied easily. He didn’t seem too bothered by her attitude, which only made her bad mood even worse. “Az is two doors down from me, but he won’t be here much. It’ll mostly be only you and me.”

“Shame,” Nesta said coolly. Knowing it would get under his skin, she added, “At least he’s pretty to look at.”

Cassian laughed. “I’ll pass the message along, Nes.”

“Don’t call me that.” She leveled another cold glare at him as they arrived at the familiar door to her bedroom. “Excuse me.”

“You should eat something first,” he said, leaning against the closed door. “Get a hot meal in your stomach before training tomorrow.”

The thought of eating something knowing she would almost certainly throw it up made her nonexistent appetite even smaller. She didn’t have alcohol to block her nightmares out, and she certainly wasn’t going to warm Cassian’s bed to make herself too tired to dream. “I’m not training with you at that horrible place.”

“Like hell you aren’t,” he retorted. “You know what’ll happen if you don’t. I’m only trying to help you.”

“Right,” Nesta said, smiling in a way she knew unnerved him. She knew Feyre would never let them dump her in the human lands like garbage no matter how many times she threatened it, even though several members of her little family wouldn’t hesitate to. Morrigan and Rhysand would probably fight for the privilege. “You have quite the definition of help.”

Cassian studied her for a long moment before sighing and moving out of her way. “I’ll bring you something to eat later. I’m sure you’re tired.”

She didn’t say anything, instead fixing him with one of her flat looks that she knew made him uncomfortable. She really was tired, and she wanted to lie down more than anything, but she wasn’t going to show any weakness if she could avoid it. She had to stand her ground for as long as possible. 

“Mor or Rhys will winnow us up to Windhaven after breakfast tomorrow,” he added once he realized she wouldn’t be saying anything else. “Get some rest, alright?”

She gave him one last irritated glance before turning and retreating into her bedroom. It felt good to close the door in his stupid, sad face and finally be alone, where she didn’t have to keep up this exhausting façade. She was angry, yes – livid, actually – but putting on her cold mask without the help of a tall glass of wine was proving more difficult by the minute.

Between her indignation at her new circumstances, the strain of holding back her power, and the headache that had been building all afternoon, she’d never needed a drink more in her life. She knew that wasn’t an option and wouldn’t even bother asking the House for it; Feyre or Rhysand had undoubtedly warded against that to make her even more miserable. 

Nobody had a problem with Morrigan practically downing an entire bottle of wine with every meal, but let Nesta spend a few expensive nights in Velaris and suddenly it was unacceptable. The hypocrisy of it all made her want to throw something, but then Cassian would come running in, and she’d rather die than have to explain the source of her outburst to him. 

✵✵✵✵✵✵

Nesta slept fitfully during her first night in the House. There wasn’t much to do other than stew in her anger and promise to herself that she’d get her revenge, but that eventually burned itself out in favor of a full-body ache. 

She couldn’t drink to keep the nightmares away, and when she did manage to fall asleep, it wasn’t long before she was awake and running to the bathroom to throw up. The smell of a hearty dinner just outside of her door made it even worse, her stomach reacting poorly to the smell of it, and she was thankful Cassian hadn’t managed to bring it inside her room like he’d probably wanted to. 

Cassian either didn’t know or didn’t care that she could barely stand when she joined him for breakfast the next morning, but even as exhausted as she was, she refused to let him get the last word in. She hated wearing the tight, fitted leathers he favored so much, but being uncomfortable was more than worth getting a rise out of him. Even when she was a ghost of herself, it was far too easy to rile him up.

When they got to Windhaven, it was all she could do to walk over to a rock and sit down without keeling over, but Cassian and Morrigan seemed to think she was just being defiant for no reason. They would run back to little Feyre and her insufferable husband, to report on her progress – or lack of it – and Nesta would undoubtedly lose something else. She didn’t see how things could get any worse, though, so it was a risk she was willing to take. 

After wiping herself down using a bucket and an absolutely minuscule lunch, she managed to force herself down to the library for a few hours of meaningless work. In her experience, things had always worked out better when she kept up appearances, and she mindlessly shelved books while she thought of ideas for petty revenge. Nothing was satisfying enough for how she’d been wronged, but it was the best she could do, so she forced herself to be content until her mind could conjure up something more satisfying.

Dinner was a lonely affair, made even worse when she gave in and asked the House for a glass of wine only for her requests to be filled with water instead. She’d progressed from nausea and tremors to feeling like she was going to crawl out of her body from how badly she needed a drink. Her skin felt hot and feverish, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to make it downstairs to her bed without help. Not that she’d ever ask for help – she’d rather die before allowing anyone to see her at her weakest. 

She managed to choke down a couple bites of the food before pushing the plate away from her. It was pure torture getting back to her room, but at least the House provided her with a cool compress after she’d changed into a loose nightgown. She didn’t even have the energy to take her hair down, leaving most of the pins in as she laid down and focused on not dying.

Nesta’s days continued in much the same way. She barely slept from a combination of how ill she felt and the horrific memories she kept reliving, but she forced herself to keep going on half-cocked ideas of vengeance. Cassian forced her to eat breakfast in the mornings before they traveled to Illyria, and if he noticed how she had to force down every bite, he said nothing about it. Morrigan threw her dirty look after dirty look, sometimes paired with snarky comments, and it took every bit of awareness Nesta had not to loose her fire on the female. 

Nesta fought hard to stay upright and further embarrassed and infuriated Cassian in the process, ignoring every outstretched hand and motivating speech in favor of trying not to pass out. She could hardly stay on her feet during her hours in the library, but she never complained, not once. All the while, she felt close to death as her body purged whatever was left out of her system while struggling to maintain its grip on those silver flames coiled inside her.

After a week had passed, her overlords decided to grant her a day of rest. Cassian didn’t pound on her door threatening to drag her out of bed, and she was able to lounge in bed until nearly mid-morning. 

By the time Nesta made her way downstairs, the only sign of Cassian was a short note explaining that he’d left to handle something in Illyria. The break from physical training — or lack thereof — didn’t exempt her from her duties in the library, however, so she ate a few pieces of toast, freshened up, and eventually made her way downstairs. 

The other priestesses had long grown used to her silence, so she wasn’t bothered as she found her cart and began her familiar trek up and down the library’s halls. She was grateful for the lack of supervision; this was the one place she could practice the little bits of magic she’d picked up without anyone paying too close attention. She was terrified the House would alert someone what she was up to if she practiced there, and she wasn’t physically able to get to the much lesser-warded Velaris, so she made do with the time she had available. 

Nesta also wasn’t reckless enough to practice with her fire in the building, nervous that she’d lose control and manage to destroy priceless books in the process. She had to get the magic out somehow, though, so she’d done her own research on magical skills no one had bothered to tell her were important to learn. Instead of expelling a fiery blast like she really wanted to, she focused on what she’d read in one of the tomes last night about winnowing, squeezing her eyes shut while she visualized herself appearing in the next row of shelves. 

There was a muffled thump as the cart landed with her, but thankfully none of the books fell over. She had nothing else to practice her winnowing with, but she knew how imperative it was to be able to transport objects — and eventually living things — with her if she truly wanted to master the skill. She knew her true goal was to eventually leave Velaris, and perhaps bring Elain with her, but for now she was content with having her own method of transportation if she ever needed one. 

Besides, being able to escape at a moment’s notice was a pretty convenient trick to have up her sleeve. 

Nesta cleared her thoughts and bent down to inspect all the books on her cart for any damage, sighing in relief once she’d finished inspecting them. She meant to stand and keep returning books to their rightful place, but her fingers stilled as one of the titles on the bottom row of the nearest shelf caught her eye. 

She pulled it out, her eyebrows flicking up as she spied A History of the Hewn City written in emerald ink against an ink-black cover. Curious, she flipped through a few of the pages and realized she’d never seen anything like it, even though she’d heard many unpleasant tales about what the Court of Nightmares was like. She didn’t have time to read it as closely as she liked at the moment, but it was nothing to make the book disappear from her hands and take up residence inside her armoire instead. 

✵✵✵✵✵✵

Nesta had naively believed she couldn’t be more disgusted with the Inner Circle than she already was, but that was before she started reading into the histories. 

The authors were carefully neutral in their wording, but she’d long mastered the talent of reading between the lines. She wasn’t particularly surprised with how cruel and twisted things were for those unfortunate enough to be born inside the Hewn City, but for all their talk of being a Court of Dreamers, she couldn’t fathom how they allowed so much suffering under their watch. Surely Morrigan couldn’t have been the only person worth saving there. Surely Rhysand wanted to make sure no one suffered, especially not unnecessarily. 

Nesta wasn’t so arrogant as to automatically assume she would do a better job, but considering how Rhysand and Morrigan had done piss-poor jobs of managing the other half of their court, she supposed the bar wasn’t particularly high. They only seemed to bother with the Court of Nightmares when they wanted to rile Keir up — an idiotic idea, considering the Darksingers made up a not insignifant portion of Night’s armies — and things hadn’t changed in centuries. 

It was a dangerous idea, one that could get her killed, but she wasn’t afraid. She’d survived countless horrors already, had taken what she wanted from the Cauldron, even killed an ancient king; what challenge did Morrigan’s father present to her? 

Nesta wanted them to regret the moment they’d chosen to try and tame her like a dog. She wanted them to be afraid to even think her name, let alone utter it out loud. To not dare risk invoking her wrath the way they’d been terrified of Stryga or the Bone Carver or even Bryaxis. 

The Old Gods were all gone, anyway. It was high time for someone to take their place. 

Think of the looks on their faces, she thought once she’d turned out the lights. I wonder if they’ll try to teach me a lesson then. 

When Nesta finally slipped into unconsciousness, her dreams were filled with a crown of bones. 

✵✵✵✵✵✵

Once Nesta had settled on a way to make them pay, it was like a fire had been lit in her mind. She had somewhere to focus her energy other than simple bits of magic during her menial work in the library, and if Cassian noticed, he didn’t comment on it. 

Still, as motivated as she was toward her new goal, she knew she’d need help achieving it. She didn’t know the extent of her powers, too nervous to be caught testing their limits, and she didn’t remember the Hewn City well enough after just one visit to risk winnowing herself. She’d have to goad one of the Inner Circle members into taking her, and the only person she could think of fit for the task was difficult for Nesta especially to get a hold of. 

But just when Nesta wasn’t sure things would work out, she received a summons to the river house for a family breakfast. As irate as she was that Feyre didn’t think she’d meant it when she said she didn’t want to speak to her ever again, the more logical part of Nesta’s mind knew this was the best opening she could hope for. 

Morrigan wouldn’t pass up on the opportunity to lord her perfect, golden self over Nesta. If only she knew what doors she was about to open for the eldest Archeron. 

Nesta kept her mental shields pulled as tightly around her mind as she could once Cassian set her down in front of the estate’s overly grand entry. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well, but considering he hadn’t cared when she’d been the one with dark circles under her eyes, she couldn’t find any sympathy for him within her. 

“Good morning,” Feyre greeted them at the door with a smile. It dimmed considerably when she realized Nesta wasn’t really looking at her, but she carried on anyway. “Come in, come in, you must be starving!”

As if on cue, Cassian’s stomach rumbled. He stepped around Nesta and slung an arm around Feyre’s shoulders in a half-hug, the pair moving into the house while forgetting Nesta standing outside in the entryway. Typical.

She shut the door behind her and slowly made her way to the dining room, following the sound of voices to find most of their group assembled. Amren was thankfully nowhere to be found, but Rhysand and Morrigan were chatting happily at one end of the table while Azriel piled food onto his plate on the other. 

Nesta didn’t bother to hide her scowl once she realized the seating arrangements would force her to sit next to Cassian. They expected that from her, so she would play up her discomfort at sitting next to the hulking bat, deepen her frowns and sharpen her insults the moment it was her turn to put on a show. 

All the better to sate the dark, twisted thing inside her that wanted blood. 

Breakfast thankfully passed quickly enough, Nesta managing to eat some oatmeal in addition to her toast. For once, Cassian kept his comments about her eating habits to himself, though she certainly felt his eyes on her as she added some sugar to her tiny portion. She didn’t bother to acknowledge anyone at the table, least of all him, only murmuring her thanks to Azriel as he poured her another glass of water. 

By the time the rest of the group had eaten their fill, Nesta was nearly vibrating out of her skin with the need to get away. Azriel left a few minutes early after one of his shadows whispered something in his ear, and Rhysand, Feyre, and Cassian wandered off toward the outdoor patio, leaving Nesta and Morrigan alone for the first time in a long while. 

Nesta took a deep breath once she realized they were alone, smoothing her hands over the simple gray dress she’d chosen to wear today. It was still a little too loose around her frame, but that had been a calculated decision; if she looked too put-together, perhaps things wouldn’t play out the way she’d want them to. 

“You were quiet for once,” Morrigan commented as she conjured up a flute of wine sparkling with more bubbles than Nesta had ever seen before. “Have you learned your lesson about keeping your forked tongue between your teeth?”

Nesta clenched her hands into fists to avoid doing something she shouldn’t — drinking, using her power on Morrigan, getting up and walking away forever. “I don’t recall needing to learn any lessons, Morrigan.”

“Always so formal,” Morrigan replied with a snort. She tipped some orange juice into her flute and downed half the drink at once. “Mhmm. I would offer you some, but…”

“I prefer my drinks untouched,” Nesta responded, looking over Morrigan with thinly-veiled disdain. “I’m sure you understand.”

“And here I thought beggars couldn’t be choosers,” Morrigan said with a sharp smile. 

Nesta took a deep breath and forced herself not to rise to the bait. She needed Morrigan on this more than she needed to respond to the other female’s barb; this could just be another transgression on the list. 

“Amren said it would be better to throw me into the Court of Nightmares,” Nesta eventually said, her voice the perfect mix of accusatory and irate. Her feelings for Morrigan were no secret, and there was certainly no love lost in return; she was the best candidate for what Nesta needed done, so Nesta could only hope Morrigan’s disdain for her would be enough to set the wheels in motion. 

“We all heard,” Morrigan responded warily. She narrowed her brown eyes into slits, as if she expected Nesta to lash out at her over it. “What about it?”

“Do you still agree with that assessment?”

“I do.”

“So take me there and be done with it.”

Morrigan raised a golden eyebrow. “You want me to put you down there?”

“Better there than the human lands,” Nesta answered, keeping her voice flat and cold. All the better for Morrigan to make her own assumptions about Nesta’s motivations. “I’m done with this charade.”

“You’ll fit in perfectly,” Morrigan answered with a cold smile. She pushed back her chair and stood as she added, “In fact, I’ll take you down there right now.”

Read Chapter Two Here!

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[nestaismommy]

Going off that other anon, even Feyre blames their dad for not doing enough. In the scene where the bat boys are meeting her sisters, Feyre mentions her father not doing anything. Feyre doesn’t turn it on her sisters until cassian and Rhys do.

Nesta didn’t LET Feyre go hunting. Nesta was also a child. And she wasn’t her parent. Feyre is stubborn, even if nesta tried to stop her, she would have found a way to hunt. Sick of people blaming nesta when their father was right there. And no one holds elain to the same standard. Just nesta. Because Rhys said it was her fault and everyone just goes along with precious Rhysands opinion.

Actually, I think Feyre says how her mom didn’t make her sisters promise to take care of the family instead of her. It felt like she was also blaming them, not just the dad.

“But then again, my mother hadn’t made them swear anything when they stood beside her deathbed.”

“Stay together, and look after them. I’d agreed, too young to ask why she hadn’t begged my elder sisters, or my father.”

But when she visited her sisters, she asked Nesta if they can start over and she agreed. They where going to move on from what happened in the past. Until Rhysand got himself involved in their business.

I gripped Nesta’s arm, drawing her attention to me. “Can we just … start over?”

And Nesta agreed. Then Rhysie decides to remind Feyre about their past.

“Your sisters mean well, or one of them does. But seeing them, sitting at that table … I hadn’t realized it would hit me as strongly. How young you were. How they didn’t protect you.”

“I managed just fine.”

“We owe them our gratitude for letting us use this house,” he said quietly, “but it will be a long while yet before I can look at your sisters without wanting to roar at them.”

They were young too Rhysand.

He can roar bark or meow at them but I doubt they’d give a shit. It’s none of his damn business. They never asked for his forgiveness and acceptance. The fact that he thinks his opinion & acceptance is important to them is hilarious lol. They definitely don’t give a shit.

Feyre & Nesta decide to start over, yet the others somehow hold a grudge against Nesta, even though it isn’t their grudge to hold and they have no right to.

-

You’re right, it was literally Feyre’s decision. She chose to hunt. Yet people still claim Nesta “let” her hunt, or “forced” her to.

They literally blame the child more than the parent. And the way I don’t see anyone hate on the mother for making her kid promise to take care of a whole ass family. The parents are to blame. Not the kids. And oml the whole “Elain is Elain” nonsense Rhysand said. Like what is that excuse? And you know, this is kind of an insult to Elain herself. They need to stop treating her like this. Even Elain dislikes this treatment 😬 she’s a grown woman, stop treating her like a child and making excuses for her.

I agree with the whole Rhysand says something and everyone else immediately goes along with it. Like when Rhysand says Tamlin just wanted to fuck Feyre, and then Feyre and everyone else says the same thing even though in that scene, Feyre was the one who wanted to take things to the next level.

[nikethestatue]

When you said: "But somehow, the fact that Azriel and Elain actually shared their powers with each other, when she ‘stepped out of the shadow’ and killed the King, with Azriel’s mysterious magical dagger, which ‘always strikes true’ and which he’d never allowed anyone to even touch, let alone use, is just a coincidence then?

Her power was exactly the same--maybe even more--as his, during the War. They were both on the battlefield, he was likely protecting her with his shadows, but she moved stealthily and delivered the deathly blow to the King." Elain and Az didn't share powers. No one said anything, no one mentioned Elain having Az's powers and he didn't either. Not even in his own pov. Yeah, Elain stepped out of a shadow but Azriel wasn't even present and we already know his shadows vanish around her so I really doubt they were protecting her. Elain is a seer, she has nothing to do with shadowsinger's powers and she hates darkness. This isn't canon, you're making all of this up. Also, Cassian offered Elain a weapon too and she denied it, but Azriel insisted and that's why she took it, because he made her, but then she gave it to him WITHOUT LOOKING BACK. It's written in the book, that is canon. I also hate how you try to make everything related to Elain about Az, let her have a personality for once. Geez.

Anon, I had a long ass day at work, but I will address this, though I don't really feel like arguing.

Firstly, they both share predictive powers--that's at the most basic level. She is a seer, who sees the future, and other visions, he has his shadows which have predictive abilities. THat's why he is so valuable, because his shadows know what will happen and give him a few moments' glance into the future. (That's per Rhys, who explained what a shadowsinger is to Feyre in ACOMAF)

That's A. You never found it curious that it was Azriel who understood what her affliction was? He was the one who proclaimed her to be a Seer. Interesting how he, of all people, and not her mate, not a High Lord, and not a 15,000 year old Angel of Death could tell what was up with her, but Azriel could.

Therefore, on the most basic level, their powers are at least complimentary.

There is also something to be said about that commonality, because we dont know the extent of their powers at all. We dont know why and how he is capable of things no one else is capable of, and we know that being a Seer is not her only power. As in: Cassian telling Nesta that Azriel can do a lot of things and that he is 'different', and Elain needing to dust off her powerS (plural) if she was going to go look for the Trove objects.

Which brings me to the TT exchange.

a. He could've given her any dagger or any weapon to protect herself, if that was the only reason he was giving her a weapon

b. She didnt take Cassian's and was in fact very uncomfortable with it. Yet with Azriel, she didn't protest--just said that she didn't know how to use it.

c. Then, this girl, who doesn't know how to use a dagger, and who didn't even want to touch someone else's, goes and murders a King with it. Curious, isn't? (I guess not to you, though)

d. Azriel CHOSE to give the dagger to Elain. And as I said before, the dagger which no one's ever touched before, worked in Elain's slim fingers and produced a fatal blow to the King.

e. At the very very least, it means that Azriel and Elain could both wield a Made object. Which again, unites them in their powers. Cassian, for example, cannot wield Ataraxia.

f. What is repeated again and again in the books? 'like calls to like'. Something in Elain called to Azriel and told him to give her the dagger. And that was the knowledge that the dagger would obey her and work with/for her.

g. Azriel, when he gave her the dagger, specifically told her that he won't be using it that day, and that he wanted her to have it. Why was he so convinced that he wouldn't use it? It was a huge, decisive battle which even though he was recovering after his wounds, he knew he'd participate in. So, how did he KNOW that he wouldn't be using the dagger? But that SHE would? Circling back to that predictive power that they both seem to share. He somehow knew that he could weaken himself and give up the dagger to her, because in her hands, it would 'strike true'. (Again, why do you think it was included in the text?)

h. That's what power sharing is--it's complimentary. it's not always the exact same powers. It's how they could be exchanged and worked together. For example, Aelin had fire, and Rowan had wind. Yet they worked together, when they needed to, even though their powers are fundamentally different.

i. Elain giving back the dagger is perfectly normal--it was given to her ONLY for that day. He said it himself 'i won't be using it TODAY'. He didn't say 'i don't want it anymore, so you can have it'. That's exactly what happened. She used the dagger and then she gave it back.

j. Nowhere does it say that she hates darkness (that's you making things up, not me). She likes sunshine, but it doesn't mean she hates darkness. Her home is the NIGHT Court.

k. Shadows vanish when she is with Azriel. Because the shadows don't need to protect him from her. His comfort level and security with her is so high, that the shadows aren't needed. However, it doesn't mean that he wouldn't have the shadows protect her when he is not with her. The shadows protected them all in Hybern, during the rescue, for example.

l. Finally, in his pov, Azriel wasn't thinking about their powers. He was thinking about sex. No one WOULD say anything about them sharing powers, if they don't know that they did. Elain obviously downplayed the whole King incident, and Nesta happily accepted the accolades. There is a mystery surrounding the entire episode--how she snuck up on the king, why did she step out of the shadows, how she even managed to thrust a dagger into his throat. The only 2 people who know are Elain and Azriel.

m. lastly, if you dont think that the TT scene is important, Sarah Janet Maas would disagree with you. She included it in the colouring book, as the definitive Azriel and Elain moment.

n. There are 2 extremely important Azriel and Elain moments in the series--the rescue from Hybern, which is repeated in every book, sometimes multiple times. And the exchange between them, when he gave her TT.

I am running out of letters in the alphabet, but I think i've made my point pretty clear.

PS I don't make shit up. If I argue anything, it's always supported in canon. Unlike headcanons and fantasies of some others here.

[acourtofthought]

I'm 100% reading the next ACOTAR books (even if it's an E/riel book, I'll give it a shot even though I have 0 interest in them as a couple) and I have no idea who the next one is about but I can't help but hope for an Elucien book :(

I like Elain and I want to learn more about her, but Lucien has been one of my favorite characters since book 1 and I want his POV so badly. I'm almost convinced they're next. I feel like there's no urgency for Gwyn and Azriel's story, since Gwyn was just introduced in the previous book and Az has only just begun to get over Mor.

Though I'm petty and I hope Gwyn and Lucien are somehow related lol there's no way she won't like him

I want to tackle your last comment first.

Can I tell you how much I cackle at the thought of Gwyn being related to Lucien which means Az would then be Lucien's in-law? 😂😂😂 And Lucien having a whole "but are you good enough for my cousin / niece, etc?" moment? I'm sure SJM would never write that but I take delight in it from time to time.

On to the rest....

I'm with you, I will absolutely read an E/riel book if that's what SJM writes and I'm sure I'll enjoy it well enough (though right now, I also have no interest in a book about them). I don't absolutely love the Crescent City series but I like Quinlar together (even though they aren't in my top SJM favorite couples). TOD wasn't my favorite TOG book but I still liked who ended up with who. SF isn't my favorite ACOTAR novel but I still like Nessian together.

Something I feel SJM does so well is write spectacular romance. I'm not even talking about the smut, I'm talking about the way she takes two people, places them in one another's orbits but throws a whole bunch of shit their way before they actually fall in love. Her romances feel so real to me, they build so beautifully (no insta-love which I struggle with) so by the time they get together, the depth of feelings between them seems powerful. And she never writes that awkward teenage love stage between her endgame couples. They're not silly and giddy or shy around one another as they're falling in love. They act like adults who communicate, call one another out and throw hard truths at each other, talking about the deep stuff.

So if E/riel is endgame, she will give them that treatment.

I've yet to see it in their interactions though (especially when you consider neither party is against chatting with the other) which is a huge part of why I don't think they're happening.

But Elucien would be on a whole other level.

Imagine SJM giving us an entire book of two people whose strengths lie, not in their skills as a warrior (though Lucien does have that going for him when necessary) but in how clever they both are? How observant they are? How good they are at getting what they want because they're just so good at knowing exactly what to say to people? Where people are ready to hand them over whatever they want because they're just so damn likeable? How no one has any idea what the hell they're thinking half the time because they're always so polite and well mannered, they rarely lash out, yet you know they must have a million and one things going through their mind and you just know that under the surface there's this incredible passionate side to them that they only share with one another?

Everyone wins with an Elucien endgame. Az because he can get his own mate. Elain and Lucien so they aren't forced to feel a tug to one another for eternity. Feyre because her first friend in Prythian becomes her brother-in-law. Rhys because he gets connections all over (listen, it's a valid reason for a High Lord). Nesta because she knows that Lucien would never be disloyal to her sister and knows Elain would never struggle with the tug of an unfulfilled bond. Cassian because he already feels bad seeing Lucien's disappointment.

This part Gwynriels may want to turn away from because they won't like it as much  (nothing bad, just in regards to the next book) 😬🙈

Lucien's story has been building since book 1. Now only that but SJM has been thinking about Lucien's story long enough that she completely retconned his father in book 2, the same time she began planning for Elain's future journey. She continued setting up for their novel in book 3 when she introduced Koschei and Vassa. She again continued setting up their journey in the novella when she told us how much of a concern it is that Springs borders have been left unenforced (a plot we know would be related to Lucien considering he told Feyre it's not that he doesn't want to return to Spring, it's that he can't because of her schemes). She set them up even more in SF by telling us how Spring had been made for someone like Elain, by telling us Lucien is now permanently stationed there, by introducing the idea of Elain traveling to the continent south of the tulip fields and having Lucien set his sights on Koschei in the same part of the continent. We have Feyre say they'll help one sister before helping the other, we have Lucien showing powers of a High Lord and we have Elain finally standing up for herself as well as Amren and Rhys telling us that Elain is ready for more.

Az and Gwyn featured heavily in SF because they are Nesta and Cassian's best friends and Nesta's journey was about her learning who she was outside of Elain. But that doesn't mean anything we learned about them needs resolved before Elucien's story needs resolved.

Lucien's internal struggles were introduced in his POV in ACOWAR. Az's internal struggles were introduced in ACOSF. Elain's trauma was presented to us in ACOMAF. Gwyn's trauma was presented to us in ACOSF.

Now all these characters traumas are equally valid and equally difficult for them to overcome, they all deserve their stories to be told. However, I'm not sure why Gwynriels story should trump that of Elucien's when Elucien has been waiting their turn since books 1 and 2. We have witnessed their traumas occurring on page throughout the series, Lucien being SA, abused by Tamlin, his mates indifference, being chased out of Spring, fighting in his first war, his brothers trying to kill him again. We've seen Elain's kidnapping (twice), her being held down and forced into a Cauldron, her body violated when she was made, the rejection of her fiance, witnessing war, stabbing a man, seeing her father murdered, Az's rejection, knowing her sisters don't believe in her and is probably aware her sisters don't seek her out for anything more than "pleasant companionship",

I think Gwyn is a fantastic character and perfect for Az and I already see the crumbs for them. But.... I do think their story can still wait just a bit because it's not been as long coming.

And I get why SJM had to put Nessian's story first but she's been vocal about her love for Lucien for years now and though his story had to be put on hold for Feyre's and Nesta's, I can't imagine she suddenly just stopped wanting to tell his story. She's built it up in every single book since the start.

I also don't know what she'd do with Elain and Lucien's characters in yet another book that they were not the main POV. We'd have another Solstice of Elain hiding from Lucien. More IC scenes with Elain in the background and SJM having to continue demonstrating how she doesn't quite fit in (which she already did in SF), more scenes of Rhys talking about how they need Spring up and running and how they're worried about what Koschei's up to (things that will only be resolved in an Elucien book). It would all start feeling a bit repetitive.

With that said, I'm not SJM and who knows if her idea of what makes sense matches with my idea of what makes sense. The way I view this could be completely different than hers. There are way more people who think Gwynriel will have ACOTAR 5 so sometimes that makes me wonder if I'm crazy for being so strong in my convictions 😂

[duskandstarlight]

Blush

Thank you for this one-word prompt for my short Nessian drabble challenge. Here’s my very short drabble. It’s sort of a slight AU to my A Golden Opportunity universe…

Apologies for any typos, this was a quick-ish one for me!

“Why was my sister blushing when you said hello earlier?”

Cassian snapped his eyes up from where he was waiting for the kettle to boil. It was to make—an unprompted—cup of tea for the sister in question, but Cassian didn’t want to make it obvious so he refrained from grabbing an Earl Grey teabag and threw in some green tea instead.

Feyre leant a hip against the kitchen counter and levelled him with a inquiring stare. To most people, Feyre’s eyes were the exact storm grey as Nesta’s. But to Cassian they were just a mock replica. They didn’t heat his blood. They didn’t make him sit upright as if he’d finally met his match.

Lifting an indifferent shoulder, Cassian slipped into the go-to feigned arrogance which always won him a laugh or two. “Why wouldn’t she?”

The snort Feyre issued was so soft it sounded more like a huff of breath. It certainly didn’t count as a laugh—which meant that Feyre wanted answers. “Because normally,” his brother’s wife said, “my sister is freezing you in place with her death glare. Did something happen between you two?”

No. Maybe. Yes.

In short: yes, abso-damn-lately.

Even a week later, Cassian couldn’t forget the taste of Nesta. The scent of her. He didn’t want to, either.

Pushing the memory to the back of his mind, Cassian did his best to keep his expression unreadable. He reached past Feyre to grab a teaspoon and used it to swill around the teabag, before he glanced back to her. “Nothing happened.”

Feyre crossed her arms firmly across her chest. “Cassian.”

Slowly, Cassian removed the teabag. He squeezed in a wedge of lemon. Took his time. Then, he levelled Feyre with a look that he usually saved for his most obstinate clients in the gym. “Feyre.”

But Feyre was on a personal mission now and nothing was stopping her. She stepped closer to him, tilted her head as if that might help her somehow scrutinise and chip away his granite expression. It made the braid that fell over her shoulder slide further down her chest.

What Feyre saw, had her setting a foot back. As if, somehow, she had both been defeated and understood exactly what had happened between he and Nesta at her birthday last week.

“You’ve known Nesta for six years now.”

It was not what Cassian had been expecting. It threw him off so thoroughly that he blinked.

The movement barely reorientated himself with the direction of the conversation as it moved seemingly off course.

“Yes,” he agreed slowly.

Six years and two months to be precise. Not that Cassian was counting. Not that he could remember the exact way a loose strand of hair had curled around Nesta’s ear when he’d spied her across the room. Or the way, when he’d shaken her hand, her fingers had been slim and cold.

“Well, what I’m trying and failing to say is that in all that time, my sister has never looked at you the way she did just now. Angry?” Feyre touched the index finger of one hand to the index finger on the other. “Yes. Excited for a spot of verbal sparring?” She touched the next finger along, counting to two. “Absolutely. But blushing? Never.”

Cassian set down the teaspoon with gentle deliberation but it still clinked too loudly against the marble countertop. Playing ignorant certainly wasn’t doing him any favours, so he just turned to face Feyre fully. “Cut to the chase, Archeron.”

“My point,” Feyre told him, leaning conspiratorially towards him, her voice lowering, “is that I’ve never seen Nesta blush before.”

All the steel drained out of him. He spoke before he could catch himself. “Never?”

Feyre’s smile was knowing. It wasn’t smug or triumphant, just cautiously and excitedly hopeful.

And Cassian knew that so much of the latter emotion was stark upon his face but he couldn’t stop it. Because he’d been biding his time, waiting for Nesta to see him as something better—especially better than that piece of shit she called a boyfriend.

Feyre reached out a hand to squeeze Cassian lovingly on the arm. “Not once,” she reassured him.

Cassian wasn’t sure what to say in response to that. But Feyre glanced over her shoulder and dropped into a whisper. “Nesta moved out of Tomas’ apartment last month. Did she tell you?”

Cassian’s heart skipped a beat. Because Nesta hadn’t told him.

When she’d kissed him in the grimy hallway of the bar last week, he’d been so surprised that he hadn’t thought to stop her to ask. And by the time the thought had struck him, he’d been too far gone, completely hypnotised by the magnetic pull between them that made it impossible to pull away from her.

Even seven days later, Cassian could still feel the ghost of Nesta’s fingers as they tangled through his hair. He remembered how her mouth had tasted, how their breath had panted hot between them. How her body had fit just right against him, her lethal curves feeling as if they’d been moulded just for him.

They hadn’t spoken since then. They’d torn apart from one another, their eyes wide and unspooling, their chests heaving. Nesta had stepped neatly away, her lips stung, her hair mussed and straightened her top, her cheeks flushed.

When she’d turned away from him, Cassian hadn’t called her name. Hadn’t fought for her. Because as far as he knew she was still with Tomas and she was never going to leave him.

In the immediate aftermath, Cassian had thought he’d understood what that moment was. He had been Nesta’s one act of rebellion. That one moment when she gave in to what she wanted, before she went back to the miserable life that she thought she deserved.

So, he’d let her go.

It didn’t mean that he didn’t hate himself for it.

Today, Cassian had accepted that when Nesta saw him at Rhys and Feyre’s lunch she’d pretend nothing had happened between them. He knew that her eyes would pass over him disinterestedly and that, eventually, they’d fall back into their usual bickering dynamic.

He had not expected her to blush.

Hope bloomed within him, his heart pleading that it was true as it pounded, pounded, pounded against his chest.

His next words came out as a rasp. “She and Tomas are over?”

Feyre nodded. “She finally moved out last month. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t know.”

Feyre’s hand clasped at his shoulder. “Well,” she said softly. “Now you do.”

[elevatorladylady]

Critical Reread - ACOFAS Chapter 15

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

Chapter 15 - F/eyre

F/eyre shops with Elain, paints alone, and visits Amren.

“They’d earned that rest. We all had.”

I hate the idea that rest needs to be deserved, but I also don’t know exactly what any of them are doing that seems particularly challenging.

“Decadent—it felt decadent, and selfish, to shop, even if it was for people I loved.”

Maybe I’m just grumpy today, but I don’t want to hear about a billionaire having a hard time spending money.

“In the three hundred years we were wed, we never had the chance to have children.” Her fingers moved beautifully, unfaltering despite her words. “I don’t even have a piece of him in that way. He’s gone, and I am not. Void was born of that feeling.”

Previously, F/eyre mentioned maybe not being able to have kids if she waited, but this couple clearly thought they could wait 300 years, so what is actually the time frame fae are able to have kids?

The idea that their relationship was somehow less than because she didn’t have a child with him is gross and should be challenged, not used a spring board for F/eyre to decide she wants a baby ASAP. 

It’s also kind of weird turning point for her on kids since R/hysand’s death would mean her own death, not a lonely life without him. 

“Then there would be no Hope shining in the Void.”

Barf.

“Again, no need to apologize.”

So rarely did anyone outside the Inner Circle speak to me with such casualness. Even the weaver had become more formal after I’d offered to buy her tapestry.”

F/eyre seems so weird about when people do or don’t show her deference. It doesn’t seem like Ressina was being all that casual or the weaver being all that formal, but it’s something she is always pointing it out. And I could have sworn she thought Velaris was super cool because everyone was so casual with their high lord?

“Polina’s behalf, in case Polina’s family wants to sell it.” “We can buy you a studio space if you need somewhere to paint by yourself,” he offered, the thin sunlight gilding his hair. No sign of his wings. “No—no, it’s not being alone so much as … the right space to do it. The right feel to it.”

So she’s telling R/hys that Polina’s family wants to sell, R/hysand is saying they could buy a space, and she’s saying no despite finding a space that does appear to have the right feel to it???

“Not my painting, I mean. But teaching others to paint. Letting them paint. People who might struggle the same way I do.”

Isn’t Ressina already offering people a place to paint? Why is F/eyre acting like she’s inventing art classes/studio space?

“Rumpled sheets and askew pillows said enough about what scents I was detecting.”

The worldbuilding that sex is just this super obviously smelly thing grosses me out. I know it can smell IRL, but they take it to such a different level.

“Good thing you have Varian to exercise with.”

If only there could be one character in this series that wasn’t all about sex.

“She comes here every few days.”

I love the idea of Nesta coming to see Amren regularly. Their friendship is so good before ACOSF

“No one likes going to the House of Wind.”

Lol. I hate this house and I’m glad it’s canon that others hate it too.

“But I know she would not like me to be musing over her path with anyone. With you.”

What happened to this glorious example of loyalty to Nesta?!?

“She’s an immortal. Months are inconsequential.”

But one year is way too long by the time ACOSF starts.

[abruisedmuse]

I’m the previous anon that sent in the ask about Nesta not having another book. I strongly believe that the Valkyries will take over the Prison with Nesta ruling over it as a general. From political standpoint, it makes a lot of sense, or to me it does. And I just love the idea of the Prison being this little sanctuary for the Valkyries with maybe some Pegasus in the future.

As for Azriel’s book, I definitely think plot wise it will involve Illyria for obvious reasons, I know some believe an Illyrian rebellion might happen. And definitely Enalius because of Truth-Teller, Ramiel could be his plot or Elucien’s (or split in half), same with the Autumn Court but it feels more for Azriel’s story since Eris is more connected to Autumn than Lucien, and like you said, Eris has been working with the IC, and then the theories that Gwyn is a Vanserra. Imagine the drama that would unfold, but it would be funny imo. Especially since Azriel hates that family.

I think Gwynriel romance won’t start until the middle of the book/second part of his story, which I’m fine with. I want the slow burn to burn. Please make that man grovel. The first part could be him working on his self worth, unresolved feelings for Mor, and then maybe what happened with Elain. But dealing with Mor feels more important since he spent 500 years obsessing over her. I’m not sure if Merrill will be a villain or not. I’ve seen theories on Gwynriel being a retelling of the Little Mermaid. I think Gwyn helping with research is going to come into play and in the Blood Rite we saw some spy qualities from her, so maybe she’ll go on missions. I think Azriel and Gwyn will become closer from training, teaching each other Illyrian and Valkyrie techniques, late nights researching together, and if she does do spy things then he’ll have to train her for certain things. Also, I think it’s very possible that Gwyn will find Narben based on some things from ACOSF. The Prison is Valkyrie territory, and Nesta is the general that rules over it with Gwydion and Narben safely in their possession.

I could see Azriel and Gwyn discovering something with Ramiel that could be used to build up the plot for Koschei and the mortal queens. Some crumbs might be sprinkled. I have a lot of ideas with Gwynriel. Elucien’s book will be Vassa’s curse, taking down Koschei, dealing with the Spring Court, and perhaps the mortal queens. I want to see courtier Elain and Lucien. They’re the courtier couple. Sorry for the long ask! I’m in an excited mood!

Hey nonnie! Sorry I got busy and then fall asleep didn't mean to leave ya hanging! Don't be sorry for the long ask! Be excited!! I love it!.

Idk about the prison cause they need the prison, and idk how the Valkyries would feel being basically guards there. Not to mention, the IC never wanna go there unless needed. So Cassian and Az, especially if Gwynriel happens, will have something to say about it. Unless they wipe out the prison, maybe which honestly begs the question of what or who else is the prison. But I'm living for the idea of the Prison becoming a place for Peagus so if the prison comes down in here for it. I wouldn't mind them taking over this spot. I just don't want them to become badass prison guards lol.

100% on the second paragraph and I highly doubt the Illyrian rebellion is done. You're telling me it was a huge focal point in acofas and then somehow, off page it was resolved??? Yeah I doubt that. I don't know how to feel about the Gwyn is a Vanserra. I get where people are coming from with it so it would make sense if sjm does it. Since there's already an established family drama plot line with Lucien idk feels like too much of the same to me. But if she's going for Kardashians level of drama for the Vanserras then yeah let's do it.

I have seen the Little Mermaid theory around too and my advice is like for or other folktales and mythology that can be franksteined into it. It's a fairly sound theory but Sarah is and has never been straightforward with a retelling. There are always twists that pull in elements from other fairytale, folklore and mythology. And yeah I definitely agree with your Gwynriel/Az book points. It has to be slow burn for so many reasons. Yeah he says he's over Mor and let it go but did you my guy??? Did you??? The necklace needs to be addressed although I don't think it's going to be this huge thing that alot of readers believe it will be. I think it's gonna be one scene that plays out, and there's gonna be a visceral reaction from Elain. It's gonna be a catalyst for both or one pairing. Regardless if Elain and Az both moved on its still kinda weird to see a gift given to you on someone else. I also think it's important for a Gwynriel romance to be slow burn bc Az is fucking clueless and needs alot to work on and Gwyn has a lot of healing to do.

And yes, I would love to see Lucien and Elain play courtiers. I think, well, I know Lucien can play the court politics game, but Elain would fit into that so well. They both have so much charm, charisma, and observation skills. It's gonna be so good. I'm so pumped for their book. I know a lot of people want and are expecting Gwynriel/Az book. I, too, think it's possible.. but ugh, I want The Elucien book so bad, and I've always been in the camp of its next.

I guess it's gonna come down to who's the big bad...Koschei or Merill? I doubt it's the mortal queens

[flowerflamestars]

⭐ do you have any crumbs about tidal? ⭐

TIDAL MY MONSTER CHILD MASTERPIECE

Endless crumbs, but I'm going to try to remain circumspect. Three fun scenes. Bold for commentary from here on out!

Cassian knew all the rumors.

Cassian has been ACTIVELY SEEKING OUT THE RUMORS. Their careers circle each other- their stats make them nearly level on a playing field that barely even exists. Cassian thinks Nesta in combat is like...the platonic ideal of a drift pilot.

All the stories- Serene Majesty’s design included armor made from Kaiju bone (TRUE, THANKS PROFESSOR VANSERRA), Serene was painted to match the exact blue shade of her older pilot’s eyes (False, but a very sexy coincidence that absolutely made it into war propaganda), Serene’s nuclear core was the oldest still running, and they were lucky she hadn’t melted the ocean floor of the Bering Strait right down to the mantle.

Fact: Nesta Archeron had solo piloted forty-one minutes longer than the nearest record holder, who’d died in minute sixteen.

Can you hear Cassian's admiration? That LONGING for partnership. The raw appreciation of skill. MHM BABE YOU ARE NOT LOOKING RESPECTFULLY AND YOU KNOW IT Story: Nesta Archeron called him a patchwork dickbag within moments of meeting him, and proceeded to kick his ass, before they even let them drop test.

Picture, if you will, the very Fun Mako/Raleigh fight with the poles? the compatibility test? Right. That. Tank tops. Barren light and sweaty skin. REALLY GOOD HAIR. But a hand-to-hand fight.

Cassian: oh fun yes fuck let's do this lets see how we move together, come play Archeron

Nesta: walks right up to him and clocks him

The first thing Elain said when she saw Asani was, “Oh, Nesta.”

And despite the fact that Nesta felt more like climbing bare through the Breach than getting in a jaeger with the man, she knew what her sister was seeing. The smile- two dimples on the right but one of the left. Close-cropped dark curls getting just long enough to assert themselves.

Shoulder and arms and everything that matched the face saying- you’re looking at a sculpture. You’re looking at a person whose whole being might as well have been idealized from an artists eyes.

14 drops, 12 kills. Only two back to back drops in the same jaeger.

Hand to hand combat elite. Muay Thai. Second generation marine.

Charm that had cracked Amren.

Elain: Nesta that man is more your type than Your Type. HE CAN KEEP UP WITH YOU. He's not afraid of you. “I know,” Nesta said. Nesta: YES I WANT TO CLIMB THAT MOUNTAIN

Elain arched a pale brow- different color, same shape- and hummed. “And he’s?” Elain: a perfect lock, a fucking doom, a sync so deep and long lasting you probably can't drift with ANYONE ELSE? “Yep.” Nesta: Yes. Nesta to Nesta: SO I'M PROBABLY GOING TO END UP ACCIDENTALLY KILLING HIM IN FUCKING DRIFT LIKE I DID YOU- THAT PERFECT STUPID ASSHOLE- Quietly, Elain swore.

She stole the binder out of his hand- they both pretended he hadn’t already been holding it out, that their reaches hadn’t perfectly, on time, overlapped. STILL GHOSTING BESTIES

She opened it. “Mhmm. Where are we from? Easy, we’re both American. Do we have siblings?” She snickered. “Yes. Where did we go to school? Places that are under the ocean now.”

GUYS guys guys they are both from places that no longer EXIST. They both came of age in war! they both, in a fucked way, thrive in the war. It's what they have- the infinite drift, purpose, and their siblings who are a direct part of that. Cassian tried to take the binder back. She shut it on his hand. “That gave us the childhood trauma book?” AMREN IS GOOD AT HER JOB (AND FUCKING WITH NESTA) She flicked the hand he hadn’t moved, lodged between the pages. “Origin stories, Asani.” Nesta is a fucking NERD and she likes the shape of Cassian's name in her mouth. “We already know all of this, Archeron,” He sighed, and she finally let him pull back. “Wanna flip?” It seemed like a trap- it felt like…fun. Cassian had the distinctly wild thought that Nesta must have been a nightmare in first level training, and half wished he’d seen it. Had her voice already contained that murder drawl at sixteen?

The only thing messier than baby! Feysand would have been Baby Nessian. It would have been on sight. It would have been a CATASTROPHE. they would have fucked it up so hard and then longed for each other for years until like...out of the blue eloping the very next time they crossed paths. No hesitation.

Cassian leaned forward, propped elbows on knees. “Go ahead.” He might have said it like a challenge- Nesta’s face might have brightened in catlike pleasure.

“Cassian Karam Asani. Twenty-seven years old, in service since your eighteenth birthday.” She was watching his face, and Cassian could do little but stare back. “You grew up on the East coast. Have an older brother. You’re a caffeine addict who likes to box. Dad died when you were ten.You have your mother’s green eyes and your paternal grandfathers face.” Her gaze flickered up, caught him.

Cassian could hear his heart hammering in his chest, pull from the rise and fall of his ribs too fast. “That’s not in my file.”

Cassian to the world: calm, cheerful, good at his job. Cassian to himself: Sure I'm Good at this Sure I Can Feel Her in my BONES- sure i definitely fucked this up- there's no way nESTA WANTS TO KNOW ME- SHE CAN'T POSSIBLY-

Nesta: it's real bitch “We dropped, Asani.” More than a drop, a successful drift. He didn’t need to say it, Nesta was already sniping in victory. “You love strawberry matcha cake.” “I can make it, too,” Cassian shot, with forced lightness.

Cassian: I COULD MAKE IT FOR YOU? what else did you see? if I'm yours...you're mine? please.

“Nesta Iseult Archeron. West Coast. Your mom taught literature, which is how you got that name. She died when you were twelve. You’re the older sister. You’re also a caffeine addict. Three tattoos. You miss sparring with your sister, and it makes you feel like shit. You horde Korean moisturizer.” “Eight tattoos.” She didn’t mean herself. SHE'S GOING TO LEARN THEM WITH HER TEETH YALL

“You hate the color blue.” hELLO, Trauma She laughed, and it wasn’t particularly joyful. “Your brother’s downstairs in the labs.” “Wrong.” Realer smile, he wanted to keep talking, “I have two.”

Nesta recrossed her legs, the entire table monopolized. “Middle child?’

An outstretched brown hand, tilted back and forth, “Azriel is only a year older than me. My other brother is…more complicated. Much younger. Az and I half raised him, but we don’t really talk.” And Nesta, mystifyingly said, “Me too. Two sisters, I mean.” She rolled her shoulders, made a face that said fuck, as her mouth continued with, “I’ve been trying to keep her out of a jaeger since she was fourteen.”

Nesta casts them IN THE SAME ROLE in her head. The middle child thing trips her for precisely two seconds and then. of course. Yeah, of course. “Three Archerons in the corps? Thats”- “The Admiralties wet dream, I know. She’s good- she’s so, so good, but I’m trying to make sure she grows up first.”

Nesta: OVER MY DEAD FUCKNG BODY WILL MY BABY SISTER GO FIGHT THIS WAR

“Rhys can’t drift. He’s Airforce now, incredible- twenty years ago, he’d be on tract to be an astronaut, but now-“ I loved making Rhys finally bad at something? He's a smart, angry kid thrashing around in a difficult world. He's SO CLASSICALLY YOUNG AND STUPID ABOUT EVERYTHING “Now the world is gone to shit?” “Tried to, at least.” Her laugh was nearly silent, small. Real.

Cassian looked at Nesta, and Nesta looked at Cassian.

The Look. The i SEE YOU AND YOU SEE ME, no this changes nothing, no this changes everything Look-

Amren is very, very, VERY good at her job, have I mentioned that?