#this chapter is so short because it used to have a really long azriel pov

[separatist-apologist]

Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Summary: Gwyneth Berdara wants nothing more than to return home and exact revenge on the courtiers who hurt her and killed her sister. Exiled to a distant temple, Gwyn finds herself at the mercy of a mysterious stranger offering to escort her home on orders from her eldest brother and king of the realm.

Unraveling the secrets of the strange soldier will prove more deadly than Gwyn could ever have imagined, setting into motion events that began nearly five hundred years before.

Happy @gwynrielweeksofficial!

TW for mentions of past sexual assault

Read on Ao3

Gwyn was beginning to believe the gloom would never lift. Though she tried to remember, she couldn’t recall a time when the world had been so draped in fog. It was supposed to be spring, wasn’t it? Where was the sunshine, the chirping birds, the swaying flowers? All was rot and ruin, like death itself stalked the world to keep the world in perpetual slumber. 

It made waking difficult, though the pounding fist on the other side of the door was insistent enough to convince her to throw back the scratchy blanket before Azriel burst in. “I’m up, I’m up,” she grumbled. Gwyn stood in the room, staring at the dishes piled against a little table as she tried to recall her dreams…but nothing came. Odd. Gwyn couldn’t remember the last time she’d had dreamless sleep, though she wasn’t complaining, either. She felt strangely unburdened, as though someone had come in and scooped out the worst of her grief and guilt and set it all to one side. 

Gwyn was quick to braid her hair and dress in riding clothes, abandoning the aqua dress from the day before. That belonged to the priestesses, not the princess. And out here, she was neither—just Gwyn. That felt strange, too. She’d never been just herself. It was just play pretend until she reached the palace and yet Gwyn liked the sight of herself in rough pants and a fitted shirt only half tucked in. Neither Merril nor Eris would have approved, which made Gwyn happy.

Another series of pounding knocks drew Gwyn out of her satisfied staring. With a sigh, she made her way to the door where Azriel stood dressed exactly as he had the night before. “Sleep well?” he asked, a bite in his voice. Clearly he hadn’t. 

“Like a babe,” she replied, the worst honest. “And I’m hungry.”

“What a surprise,” he grumbled, gesturing toward the narrow hall and the creaking stairs just at the end. It was hard to imagine Azriel, with his powerful frame, sleeping here. Would he be able to stretch out his legs? Did she feel pity for him?

Maybe a little, she supposed, though the dark scowl etched over his otherwise lovely face certainly dampened some of it. He didn’t have to sleep in the hall. He could have slept in his own bed across the way given he’d locked her in from the outside. His exhaustion was his fault and Gwyn refused to feel bad for him. Perhaps he’d learn his lesson this upcoming night and be more proactive.

Or perhaps by the time they reached the palace he’d be a snarling, snapping beast. Either way, Gwyn just barely cared. He was a grown man, he didn’t need her to take care of him. Nor did she have any interest in doing so.

Such was her good mood that Gwyn forgot who occupied the tavern, halting so abruptly at the sight of all those men that Azriel barreled into her back without warning. She would have slammed to the ground, likely chipping a tooth had he not reached out to grab her, yanking her against his chest before any harm could come to her.

“Careful,” he warned in that low, lethal voice of his. Shrugging off his touch with casual indifference, Gwyn allowed Azriel to pick a table close to a dirty window. “Don’t move.”

A few eyes drifted toward her, lacking the curiosity she was so accustomed to. Perhaps, after being gone for so long, no one expected to see a Vanserra so far north. Or maybe she no longer looked like one at all, a thought that deflated some of her good mood. All she had was her family—if she lost them, who even was she?

Just Gwyn, that voice whispered seductively. That was enough, at least for the moment. And Gwyn had no more time to truly turn the thought over because Azriel appeared, balancing steaming bowls of porridge alongside a heaping serving of rather sad looking fruit. 

“Eat,” he said, turning again only to return with bread and a jam and a carafe of water. She did as she was told, delighted by the fare even if it was merely mediocre. Sometimes food was good so long as it was hot and available, and Gwyn knew better than to be picky right then. Lunch would be served from a satchel–dry bread, hard cheese, and dried meat that Azriel tossed over before remembering she probably needed water, too. Gwyn would eat that, too, atop her horse even though the swaying made her a little nauseous. 

Azriel certainly ate like a soldier, finishing well before she had so he could stare with disapproval. Just because he could unhinge his jaw and had no need to chew didn’t mean the rest of the world did. 

“I thought you were anxious to arrive home,” he grumbled when Gwyn reached for more bread. 

“Not exactly,” she admitted around the food she’d begun chewing. “I want to return but I’m…” Why was she telling him this? “You’ll tell Eris everything I say, won’t you?”

Was that a smile? It flickered and then faded but Gwyn swore it had been present. “I have no intention of gossiping with the king, if that’s your concern.”

She could have throttled him right then. Why couldn’t he just be a regular ass and say her secrets held no interest to either himself or Eris and leave it at that. Gossiping? When he’d asked her a direct question and she intended to answer it truthfully? 

“Forget it,” she grumbled. Azriel didn’t press, drumming his fingers against the wood table until Gwyn had eaten so much she couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t be sick when she got atop her horse. Somehow she managed and thus begun another miserable, silent day with the man her brother had deemed trustworthy enough to bring her home.

Gwyn still remembered that frantic kiss. The it’s you before slumping back into unconsciousness. Who had he thought she was? And where had that man gone? She wasted a good part of the morning idly wondering what woman could love someone as cold as Azriel and the rest turning her plan over in her mind. 

Once again, they came into another haunted looking village with a populace of exhausted, overworked people. And once again, Azriel ordered her silence while he paid for a room. The tavern felt indistinguishable from the last in terms of how it was built nor did the people seem any different.

In fact…as Gwyn looked over the tavern, she swore the two men half hidden in shadow in the corner of the room were familiar. She couldn’t see faces but their builds…had they been at the tavern the night before?

No. That was both silly and absurd. Surely there were large men all over the world and it wasn’t surprising a few might find their way into the nightly tavern after a hard day at work. But Gwyn was uneasy as Azriel led her up to the room he intended to lock her back up in.

“What?” he asked when she hesitated, standing in the doorway.

She could have told him. 

And he would have thought she was crazy.

“Nothing,” she lied, turning back for the tiny, chilly room. The door snapped shut behind her and a lock clicked, making her little more than a prisoner once more. It was just a coincidence, though the anxiety ribboning in her gut told her otherwise. What was Azriel doing down there? Gwyn filled the tub with warm water and while she scrubbed the dirt from her hair and skin, she began to count the seconds. 

Was he waiting to give her time to bathe? Or was he doing something else? 

Merril’s dagger was still tucked in her bag, half-forgotten until she dug through, looking for something clean and warm to sleep in. Gwyn hadn’t bothered to question why Merril would do such a thing…but what if they knew something she didn’t?

“You’re paranoid,” she whispered to herself, though she couldn’t shake that feeling, even when Azriel came up with food and a scowl. She waited until his back was turned to ask, “Where do you hail from?”

“The coast,” he replied casually, not looking back at her. 

Gwyn knew if she asked who his father is, he’d give her a name she’d never heard of. But all Eris’s close guards were nobility, second and third sons hoping to gain favor and avoid priesthood, but who would never gain a title and all that came with it. Would Eris send a common, low-born man to retrieve his sister?

Once, Gwyn would have been able to answer that question without hesitation, but now…maybe Eris would. That was the problem—she was jumpy, nervous of strangers and distrustful and Azriel refused to give her a reason to trust her. Strange, how that instinct of his lent credibility to what was happening.

Gwyn settled uneasily in bed, listening to the sound of Azriel’s heavy boots just outside the door. With a thunk, he plopped down and something about knowing he’d spend another miserable night sleeping upright made her say, “You can sleep in here, if you want?”

He was silent for so long that Gwyn was certain he wouldn’t respond. Well, fine. At least she tried to be nice. That was more than he could say, though perhaps they didn’t teach courtly manners on the coast. And maybe this was more punishment from Eris, something Gwyn hadn’t even considered. 

She was half asleep when Azriel’s voice floated back to her. “Where?”

That was a good question. He couldn’t have the bed and there wasn’t a chair. “The floor?” she offered, thinking she could hand him one of the lumpy pillows and half-shredded blankets, if he wanted them. 

She heard him chuckle. “How…sweet.”

But he didn’t move, and Gwyn tumbled into sleep not long after. Her dreams were back with a vengeance, pulled from the vault she typically locked them in as though someone held the threads of her mind and was combing through—looking for something. Gwyn fought, thrashing as she tried to pull herself out of her nightmares, but something kept sucking her deeper into the abyss. 

Show me, show me, show me.

Gwyn resisted, holding the memories of the attack, of her sister's dead body so tightly she swore she could taste blood. Someone was screaming as she fought, begging for help that Gwyn couldn’t give them. She wouldn’t give her sister up to this monster, this creature living in her mind even when that seductive voice promised to free her of the torment she felt.

Better to feel the torment than to forget. 

Gwyn surfaced abruptly to the near glowing eyes of Azriel. His face was impossibly close, his hands gripping her arms as he shook her.

“You’re screaming,” he said, when Gwyn stared back, trying to make sense of what was happening. Azriel was in the bed, straddling her as he held her, his gaze searching for some explanation. She blinked.

“I was?”

But of course she had been. Her heart was racing, thudding in her throat so painfully she could taste blood. “I…” 

Azriel seemed to realize he was on top of her and swung his leg over the bed so Gwyn could sit up. “I don’t remember,” she finally said, trying to recall what had just happened. “Was I having a nightmare?”

Azriel swore softly, running a hand through his inky hair while turning his back to her. “You sounded as if you were being murdered.”

“Oh,” she replied. 

Azriel turned again, something vicious etched into his features. It ought to have frightened her—she was certain in the morning it would—but right then, Gwyn only felt relief. 

“What happened to you?”

Her hands went cold. Looking at the thin blanket bunched around her hips, Gwyn whispered, “Nothing happened to me.”

Nothing he was entitled to know, anyway. Azriel was just another man who wouldn’t help—who would protect the people who had hurt her and her sister. Telling him was likely to see her injured all over again. Or worse, if the men at court ever thought Gwyn had told someone. Some secrets had to stay just that—secret. 

“Liar,” he whispered, the word filled with venom.

Gwyn didn’t like him right then. “Why would I tell you anything?” she shot back. “It’s not like you’ve given me any reason to trust you. Thank you for waking me up—and sorry if I scared you. But as far as I can tell, you’re not entitled to know anything else.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw. “My apologies, princess.”

Azriel stormed from the room, though he was careful not to slam the door. She heard him pace for a moment before he thudded back to the floor, his back against the wall. Something about his presence was soothing at least right then.

Gwyn didn’t need to remember to know what the dream had been about. She wished she could forget Catrin’s death.

And knew she never would.

[oristian]

Do you think Azriel's history with other women will negatively impact Gwyn and Azriel as a couple, especially if something happens with Elain in the beginning? I love the healing and banter potential of Gwynriel, and I just know they'll understand each other's pain deeply. But I feel like Gywn suffers so much from feeling tainted and unworthy that I doubt she believes anyone can love or want her. She's very self-sacrificial, so she probably has suffered extreme suicidal idealisation. With all the parallels she has to Rhy's character, I hope SJM isn't cruel enough to make Gywn know who her mate is only to see him lust after someone else (even if it'll be fleeting or brief)

On the other hand, I know Azriel's fixation on Elain is born out of desperation, extreme loneliness and envy of his brothers being mated. I think they're both using each other as rebounds. His trauma is centuries deep, and he needs a lot of healing/closure with Mor. Despite all that, I think Gwyn deserves a mate who would wait for her above anything else the same way Rhys, Cassian and Lucien have. Sorry this is lengthy, but what are your thoughts?

This is actually very convenient because I was just chatting with @acourtdelaluna about something very similar to this premise. I actually do have a few thoughts on this!

Long story short, no, I do not think that Azriel’s current lustful feelings towards Elain will negatively impact his potential relationship with Gwyn. I personally do not believe that SJM would want to write something so dramatic and a subplot that is very irrelevant to the overall narrative. Simply look at Aelin with Dorian and Chaol before Rowan, or Dorian with Sorscha before Manon, or Bryce with Connor before Hunt—SJM wants romance and love, not heartbreak. Even the one chapter where Cassian was jealous of Eris in ACOSF was only utilized to showcase to the readers that, yes, Nesta and Cassian are mates, nothing more.

From the current direction (re: roadblock) of Elain and Azriel, there is not much closure really needed between them. SJM will have to do something quickly in the beginning of the next book that fully puts an end to them on page for those who have yet read the bonus chapter, but she does not have to dwell on them—they did not have much pertinence to the overall plot, after all. A clean separation will do the trick, or a conversation between them where Elain puts everything to rest.

Azriel and Gwyn are very similar when it comes to self image and self worth. The difference is that both view each other as good—Azriel respects Gwyn and experiences admiration for her, while Gwyn is gunning for his attention and appreciates his presence. While the reader has the added information of Azriel and Elain, I do not believe that the actual characters will have that used against them in any way. It would create tension between Gwyn and Elain that does not need to be explored.

I do have a headcanon that Gwyn does know about the mating bond already, but my secret fantasy is that Azriel and Gwyn discover it together when they both least expect it.

I do agree that both Elain and Azriel are using each other for different reasons. Elain’s reasoning is tied to Lucien and the subsequent mating bond—the extent of which, no one knows until her POV. Azriel wants a mate and has waited centuries for one. You’re right in the regard that he sees Rhys and Cassian happy in their relationships with their mates and he feels envious. I also wonder if the bond has already snapped between him and Gwyn and he’s been confusing the pull and frenzy of the bond with his attraction to Elain.

I have faith in SJM and her ability to write a relationship and I have faith in Gwynriel and Elucien. I believe that Azriel will be written as the mate that Gwyn needs, and vice versa.

[the-darkestminds]

An E/riel made me raise my eyebrows when they said “If Gwyn and Az are mates, why aren't they together in HOFAS? Why would Az say he doesn't have a mate or a partner in HOFAS if Gwyn is his mate? Az certainly would have felt the mating bond by now given the amount of time they've spent together and the traumatic events Gwyn has gone through that Az has been present for. There is nothing keeping Gwyn and Az apart. There's no reason they can't get together immediately. They have no barriers to their relationship, internal or external. Maybe that's why Az says he doesn't have a mate or a partner yet in HOFAS-because he wants to be with Elain but he can't be. Because e/riel is next and we'll see them overcome these barriers to get together in their book.”

Sarah is not going to write an off-page romance. She is not going to write about a mating bond (something extremely important) snapping off-page, especially in a book that’s not ACOTAR. And that’s why Gwynriel’s were fine with Azriel saying he doesn’t have a mate or a partner. Because we get to read about it happening. That’s what we want. We want to see Gwyn and Azriel becomes friends, fall in love, and have a mating bond snap. If it happened off-page, the I would honestly be really upset and disappointed. I know E/riel’s love to believe that their ship, their “forbidden romance”, is happening off-page (which is highly unlikely), but us Gwynriel’s prefer to get to actually read about the romance blossoming.

And as for Azriel not feeling the mating bond, how do we actually know? We don’t have his pov, so we don’t know. It’s been three months since SF ended, and we haven’t had his pov since his bonus chapter, so we don’t know what has been going on through his head, or what he’s been up to. And as for nothing keeping Gwyn & Az apart, both of them have their own things to work through. Azriel struggles with self worth, and he needs to talk to Mor. That conversation needs to happen. And Gwyn has her own trauma, so it’s understandable. Sarah is not going to not write about this and have Gwynriel develop off-page. That would be wasted plot. I don’t think Sarah has ever written an off-page romance (please genuinely correct me if I’m wrong).

I have heard this argument a lot too. I think part of Azriel's issue is that he feels so much icy rage all the time, is so used to fighting to suppress it that he supresses a lot of the good stuff too. He comes across as cold and focused but from his short POV we see he is quick to anger, hates himself and feels unworthy, and has a lot of issues to work through. I don't think he would even realize the mating bond if it clunked him on the head. And if he did, I have to wonder if he would feel worthy of that bond either. Personally I think that will be a big part of his story--accepting himself and the fact that he does deserve love. I'm not saying he's currently incapable of it, he clearly loves the IC and in HOFAS he mentions finding people he loves. But his obsession with Mor, and his thoughts in the ACOSF bonus chapter suggest he has a long way to go. Also side note, but a forbidden romance for Azriel would be disastrous and do absolutely nothing to help with his lack of self worth.

Imagine if when asked if he has a mate he said yes. We'd all be like wtf? Since when? (Although personally I believe it's Gwyn) I don't really understand why Elriels seem perfectly fine with their ship developing off page. I want to be present for all of it. Also we have no way of knowing for sure what happened in that time after ACOSF and HOFAS, like you said. But why should we have to guess and make stuff up? We will find out in the next book. I agree with you, I can't think of any romance that developed off page. Or of a female main character who did not need to go through a painful healing arc to realize what she truly wants and needs. I only bring this up because I often see the claim that "Elain is happy and fulfilled in the night court, she has friends, she loves Az". I do not see her happy and healed at all. And if that were all true then why exactly does she need her own book?

[hellacioushag]

Are you worried about Elriel fandom claiming they’re endgame? I know you were joking about the bread being confirmation, but aren’t you even a little worried about what this means? I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but as a Gwynriel I’m scared.

short answer: nope.

long answer: elain wasn’t there, and even if the bread and roses hinted at her presence (weird leap, but ok) i can’t entertain the idea that SJM is trying to use subliminal smells to tell her readers e/riel are endgame.

let’s entertain the idea for a moment that SJM is trying to tell the reader e/riel are together and presumably living in the townhouse together, ok so then where’s the conflict for their incoming book? cause we are on the same timeline, it’s not as if bryce jumped on the tardis and asked the doctor to take her on an adventure through time and space. there’s no indication that traveling through worlds sent bryce to the past or future. she’s just in another place, in a parallel timeline.

from the small hints we have i’m under the impression that this is after acosf, maybe a month/a few weeks? my reasons are there’s grass and the smell of roses when bryce lands. so this gives me the idea that we’re in spring. probably early spring since the fire was going. acosf ends when spring is starting to bloom. nessian are together, and most importantly Nesta is called to this meeting as a member of the inner circle. prior to nyx’s birth nesta would not have been welcomed/called into a meeting with everyone. so within weeks, maybe a month?, i’m supposed to believe elain moved out of the river estate and is shacking up with azriel in the townhouse within a matter of weeks? ok…

if this is the case and acotar5 picks up after this moment then that means e/riel have nothing keeping them apart. rhys telling azriel to stay away from her was presumably already dealt with since they are living together. lucien must be coping on his own with his exiled bros since i doubt he’s unaware of elain getting it on with azriel considering their bond, or lack of one now? so then what is the story? e/riel are happy and together and there’s nothing to overcome now. what an absolutely boring story this makes lol.

also i must say that if I were an e/riel I would not be celebrating the presumed confirmation of my ship from bread and roses. this literally means nothing. but again, let’s assume it does mean something: e/riel endgame. ok great, but you missed their entire relationship lol. the e/riel fandom loves to claim they had “4 books of build up” but really it means they had 4 books of someone else’s pov with e/riel in the background staring at each other and eating potatoes. they had one bonus chapter that was not accessible to everyone where azriel talked about wanting elain because he feels owed a mate. they have a chapter in another series where elain isn’t even in the scene, but the smell of bread and roses is enough confirmation that your ship is sailing despite seeing nothing on the page about it? ok then. can’t say i would be thrilled with this level of no attention to my fave ship. had this been nessian i legit would have been so angry at being robbed of all those delicious building moments to them becoming a couple. but hey, if e/riels are happy with bread and roses then let them eat and be merry.

[ialwaysgobacktoit]

THIS IS PART 8 NOW :)

Of "Time to rest your weary head" (or 'Azriel surprises Gwyn for her birthday'!!!!)

Check out the whole story here

Since last chapter was so short, I made this one bigger - and I absolutely love writing through Gwyn's perspective. I always try to be as mindful and careful as I can when I write her POV and address her trauma, but if there's anything you feel could be done differently, please let me know! :) and thank you so much for reading. Your support means everything to me <3

HEY GIRLS @katiebellf @starbornsinger @madie2200 check out my new chapter!!! and if you wanted to be tagged on this too, feel free to comment ;)

A few days passed by, and Gwyn could say she was already feeling at home in the House of Wind. She continued attending the services at dawn, pushing herself at training, then having lunch with Nesta, Cassian and sometimes Azriel, and at last spending her habitual hours in the library doing research work for Merrill before returning to the House. It was a routine she was kind of used to by now, and it made her happy.

She hadn’t been to Velaris after dinner with the Inner Circle and was secretly growing impatient to visit it again. She was planning to go shopping with Nesta and Emerie, but didn’t summon courage enough to invite them. Something about strolling around the city streets at dusk made her a bit nervous. Although she didn’t feel like admitting it out loud.

She was proud of herself, because she truly felt she was overcoming her fears. These last months were ones of a slow, but effective healing journey. She felt herself being less intimidated around others, mostly males like Cassian and Azriel. Rhysand was more distant, but even the worry she felt at dinner that night had faded. She saw Azriel almost every day and nothing seemed to have changed between them; so she believed in Rhys’s word when he promised her not to tell him.

Something caught her eye and interrupted her line of thought. She was sitting in a comfortable armchair by the fireplace at the House’s private library after a particularly exhausting afternoon, trying to read a not-too-smutty book Emerie had lent her, and immediately raised her head from the shadow near her feet to the door, where Azriel stood by.

“How long have you been there?” She asked and quietly hoped her blushed cheeks went unnoticed by him.

Surprisingly enough, sharing a hallway with Azriel didn’t mean they saw more of each other. He was so quiet she couldn’t detect his presence in his room, and usually she woke up before sunrise, so they didn’t meet each other until breakfast. A part of Gwyn couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated by that.

“Not much.” He said, stepping into the library. She motioned him to seat on the armchair across from hers, and so he did. “Actually, I just came here to ask you something.”

Oh.

She felt something flunk in her chest; it’s been a while since they last met at the training ring late at night, and that was because lately her nightmares were keeping themselves at bay. She remembered their last encounter, his hazel eyes shining under the moonlight as he stared at her from across the room, and they sparred in silence almost until the time of her service.

He didn’t seem different around her, although she could notice him staring at her sometimes with a glimpse of emotion in his eyes. And she felt she was becoming better at hiding her feelings when near him; oddly, something had calmed inside her. That urge and nervousness weren’t the first things to come to mind anymore, and she was content to enjoy their friendship. At least that’s what she kept telling to herself. There were some nights in which her dreams were filled with cedar scent, a pair of hazel eyes looking at her intensely, his beautiful hands on her hair…

She shook her head slightly and forced herself to meet his stare, the firelight making his face look golden; an elegant, handsome angel staring straight at her.

“What is it?”

“I wanted to know if…” His throat bobbed once, and she couldn’t help noticing he seemed nervous. Him, the Shadowsinger, nervous. He rephrased it, staring intently at the fire.

“The Velaris Philharmonic Orchestra will be performing tomorrow. They were in a long undetermined hiatus during the last fifty years, and now they’re back.” His brows furrowed, eyes filled with anger at what had caused it. “I used to go there every other night. And I was wondering… Since you said you’re meaning to leave the House more often, if we, well…”

She tried to suppress her chuckle at the way he fought to find the words. Instead, there was a timid smile on her face when she hesitantly interrupted him:

“Are you asking me… To come with you?”

He finally tore his stare away from the fire to meet her; those hazel eyes filled with something resembling hope.

“Would you like to?”

And damn her if his smile didn’t make her heart and her chest heat up when she responded:

“I would. Very much.”

Suddenly the room felt smaller. She swore the lights dimmed a bit, and all she could think and see was the silhouette of his face and his eyes. Those eyes that’d seen so much, endured so much, and now looked at her, as if trying to vocalize something without saying anything at all. They stayed like that, lost in each other for what seemed like eons, before he cleared his throat.

“So… I’ll let you to your book, then.”

Those words sounded forced, as if he didn’t in fact want to leave. She gave him a smile, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. Stay.

His shadows were all around her now, gently circling her shoulders.

Just as he meant to leave the room, she found herself stating:

“I’m glad you listened to it. What I said about restraining them.” She gestured with her head towards the shadows, and reached for one with her finger. The tendril seemed happy to be touched and wrapped itself in her hand, to what she giggled. “I really like them, you know.”

When she looked up to Azriel, he had a cryptic look on his face, watching in wonder the interaction in front of him.

“They like you too.” His voice was filled with a hidden emotion, and his eyes twinkled.

She smiled at him. “You can stay here for a little while, if you want. I’m not going to bed for a couple hours yet, and I must admit I’m not completely captivated by this novel.”

Even though he had that cool, unreadable mask on almost all the time, she could still see him restraining his surprise. And the way his lips tugged upward told her she was right to assume he didn’t want to leave just yet.

“What’s it about?” He asked while sitting again.

“Well” She skimmed distractedly through the pages, calming her racing heart. “She is a healer from a land up in the North, and he is a tradesman from the South. There’s a curse that connected them since birth, but they don’t know it yet. And that’s what leads them towards one another, the urge to break this curse.” She traced the title, reading the name of the author. “It’s good, just not as good as Diane.”

She casted him an amused look as he laughed quietly at her criticism, shaking his head:

“Because no one will ever compare to her.”

“Never.” She agreed dramatically, and his laugh turned into a grin. “Emerie and Nesta think I’m exaggerating, but I mean it. I must have read her books like ten times by now.”

His eyebrows shot up, clearly interested. “She must be great then.”

“Wait a second. Five hundred years and you’ve never read her?” Gwyn couldn’t hide her astonishment as she gasped.

“Why is that such a surprise?” He leaned back in his chair, that small smile never fading from his face.

“Well, is just… You had plenty of time.” She teased.

“My life is busier than you might think, Berdara.”

“Well, be that as it may, this can no longer go on. You must read it.”

Before he could answer, she called the House to deliver her the stack of Gadot’s novels that were in her bedroom. Her private collection.

“Start by this one” She handed him a copy of And So the Story Goes, that had magically appeared in the table between them “This is my favorite.”

He reached for the book, and she watched as he flipped through the pages. She would admit that sight made her heart flutter once again. The book she had ever since she was little, that she read alongside Catrin, one of the only things she asked Mor to grab her after everything. Its edges were worn, some pages marked and underlined. To have Azriel hold it in his hands…

“You can read it at your own pace. And don’t worry, I have a spare” She showed him the copy Diane had signed her, a newer edition, that beautiful inscription that she knew it by heart in its front page.

I hope you find out what you knew all along.

“I can see you read it a lot.” He stated, musing through the pages and stopping at some passages.

She leaned forward to slap his arm. “What are you doing? Start at the beginning!”

He laughed out loud at her exclamation, his eyes meeting hers.

“Ok, bossy. I definitely will.”

After a few hours of talking and laughing together, she felt the tiredness taking the best of her.

“Goodnight, Az.” She said when she stopped by the door. Even during their conversation, he still held the book, keeping it close to his chest.

“See you tomorrow, Gwyn” She had just turned away when she heard him. “And thank you.”

She looked at him over her shoulder and saw him lifting the book. “Anytime.”

And when she finally shut the door of her bedroom, she couldn’t stop the light feeling on her chest.

***

On the next day, she knocked on Nesta’s door. It was the afternoon, and both Cassian and Azriel were out paying one of their routine visits to the Illyrian camps.

That morning, at service, Gwyn felt like she was flying. She sang like those ancient hymns were all that was left in the world. Even some other Priestesses had commented on that after it was over. And at practice, she couldn’t help her grin when she spotted Azriel across the training ring. And couldn’t help the blush that crept onto her cheeks when he almost immediately turned his head to her, the corner of his lips tugging upward.

She woke up thinking about their meeting at the library, their casual conversation and bantering. She didn’t feel an ounce of discomfort when they were together; everything was so easy. He knew her, her story; he had saved her, for Mother’s sake, and he didn’t make her feel like porcelain, like one blow could shatter her.

Instead, she felt braver and confident when he was around. They could still talk and laugh together as if they hadn’t shared that terrible experience in the past. Mindful of each other’s traumas, indeed, but... It still was light. Trustful. She hoped he’d read the book; she could secretly picture his eyes flipping through her markings and notes. She wanted him to know that part of her.

“Come in” Nesta said from within, interrupting Gwyn’s reverie.

She opened the door, only to find her sister sitting comfortably in an armchair by the window, book in hand and a cup of tea in another. Her training leathers were displayed on the bed, as she thought of training afterwards.

“Hey” Gwyn greeted. She didn’t know where to start.

Aside from Rhys, no one was aware of her recent discovery about the mating bond. Of course, that didn’t stop her sisters from smirking mischievously whenever Azriel was around, at training or during meals. Gwyn knew both Nesta and Emerie had picked upon whatever she was feeling towards him, but they were kind enough not to inquire in public.

“What’s going on?” Her brows furrowed as she got up of her chair.

“Nothing.” Gwyn took in a deep breath. Out with it, Berdara. “I was wondering if you could borrow me a dress.”

Nesta squinted her eyes, and raised an eyebrow as a slow smile started to appear on her face. Cunning, as ever. “May I ask what for?”

Gwyn herself didn’t know. When she found herself alone with Azriel for a moment during training, she had asked him what outfit would be suit for the occasion. He just shrugged with a half-smile, and reassured her she didn’t have to worry about it. But even so, she wanted to look decent for a night out.

“I’m going to Velaris tonight.”

Nesta gasped quietly, and Gwyn could see her eyes were shining with pride. “Alone?”

“No.” Gwyn went to sit at the trunk by the bed. Seeing that Nesta was still staring at her with that knowing smile, she added “Azriel’s taking me to see the Velaris Philarmonic Orchestra.”

She watched as her sister gave her a broad smile, and couldn’t help the blush on her cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing” Nesta hummed back, as she opened the doors to her wardrobe. “Just the two of you?”

Gwyn nodded, standing up and joining her sister in front of her rack full of clothes. So, so many outfits, a myriad compared to Gwyn’s scattered ones. “I don’t know what one’s supposed to wear to the theater. Even less so to watch a live orchestra.”

Nesta huffed a laugh, but her eyes were fixed on the garments in front of them as she scrolled through her various dresses. “Well, I do.”

They spent the next few seconds in silence, as her sister skillfully searched through fabrics. Strangely enough, Gwyn didn’t feel as nervous to have told her as she thought she would. But she was certain Nesta was only waiting for the right moment to fill her with questions.

“Oh, wait. I know.” She passed Gwyn and went to the trunk by that king-sized bed she shared with Cassian. The thought of her sister and her mate didn’t make Gwyn blush the way she once used to, but now the predominant feeling was that she could have that, perhaps. One day. That thought alone made her stomach flutter.

“Here” Nesta drew a burgundy midi dress out of the trunk. “Try this on.”

The V-necked laced bodice wasn’t too tight around the waist, and it had a light and also lacey skirt that draped around her knees, showcasing her legs. It was modest, and yet delicate and elegant.

When Gwyn looked at herself in the mirror, Nesta standing behind her as she zipped her up, she was breathless. It’s been a long, long time since she wore a dress, and this one fitted her perfectly. Alongside with the necklace, her freckled skin and hair, it made her feel… Beautiful. Stunning, even.

“You look splendid” Nesta stared at her through the mirror.

“Thank you.” She turned to her friend, who grabbed her arms and hugged her. She could see she was having fun.

“Do you have shoes to match this?”

Gwyn tilted her head.

“I could use my flats.”

Her sister shook her head, and reached for a matching pair of ankle-strapped scarpin heels under her bed. “Now there you go.”

Suddenly Gwyn felt an urge to cry. She was so happy to count with her sisters at moments like these. It made her excited for the ones to come.

“Hey” Nesta seemed to notice her tearful eyes, and urged her to sit next to her by the bed “Are you ok?”

She nodded and sighed. “I’m just… Happy. I’m nervous, but it feels good to know you girls have my back.”

“You know, Gwyn” Nesta grabbed her hand, her tone gentle. “I was going to say that you didn’t have to do this if you didn’t feel like it, that Azriel would understand…”

The thought of her declining his invitation made her heart ache. She didn’t once consider it; she was just glad to be spending time with him. That hewanted to spend time with her. Just as she opened her mouth to state that, her sister went on:

“But I can see that you want to do this. And I just wanted to let you know that I’m happy for you. And I can’t wait to know all about it when you get back.”

Gwyn squeezed her hand and gave her a cheeky grin:

“I’m excited, Nes.” Her words were barely a whisper as she confided.

“As you should. Now go” She nudged towards the door, smiling. “Go have some fun.”

[thorne-archive]

fic recs!!

posting this because my percynet friends were practically begging me to post this with the pjo hyperlinks haha also featuring ridiculous fangirling comments by yours truly

features fandoms: HP, ACOTAR, PJO, and FMA

features (mainly) ships: drastoria, scorose, elriel, percabeth, jasper, and royai

— harry potter (I’m currently in love with draco x astoria and scorpius x rose)

warmth by littlemissmadness (drastoria oneshot!!! it’s so cute!!! a lil heartbreaking at first but i just - ugh!!!)

amor quod fecimus by jillian bowes (some consecutive drastoria oneshots, very cute!!)

a long time coming by helloimsabrina (drastoria comfort fic :)

finding hope by insertcleverandwittytitlehere (cute drastoria oneshot)

the way you look tonight by you-make-me-wander

shouldn’t by reppad98

blood, war and a touch of love by controlled climb

the dragon and the star maiden by boogum

the kiss thief by boogum

of sunflowers and rainydays by rosescor90 (scorose oneshot!!!!!)

the feeling of vindication by howlsatthemoon

worst of a bad bunch by graeliars (teddy/victoire oneshot fic hehe)

a kiss with a fist by superspy (jily oneshot :)

the smart one by nikkira (scorose oneshot, in which scorpius and rose are lowkey academic rivals; this is pure fluff)

off limits by livetodream (the! cutest! scorose! oneshot!!!)

when you grow up by drcjsnider (scorpius pining after rose? I think y e s)

the unnecessarily racy by anaela loves who (humorous jily oneshot feat. a jealous lily)

— acotar (mostly elriel fanfics sorry lol)

lover by @julesherondalex on tumblr! (an elriel roommates au!! okay but the angst and pining here made me SOB like three times over, 10/10 recommend!)

all of me by julesherondalex (I just love this writing style and there’s so much fluff and pining I cant-)

home in hogwarts by julesherondalex (elriel at hogwarts!! what more could you want?)

enchanted by julesherondalex (elain’s pining for azriel in this is 100/100 omg)

flight mode love by julesherondalex (elriel!coffee shop au!!!)

love me tonight by julesherondalex (you best believe I cried reading this! another elriel fanfic set in the canonverse)

the scent of you by julesherondalex (elriel au, angst with a happy ending! this one also made me cry really hard)

a little piece of your heart by julesherondalex (elriel confession in azriel’s pov!!)

a secret admirer by @florrama on tumblr! (short au elriel fic, very heartwarming!)

a seasonal love by florrama (more elriel? I think yes!!)

a shadow’s kiss by florrama (a collection of elriel oneshots!! they! are! so! soft!!!)

perfect strangers by @rosehallshadowsinger (short and sweet elriel au)

gifts from the heart by rosehallshadowsinger (the pining!!! so cute :)

stars hold no power over us by stardustsroses (a little explicit but so very cute :’) I love the concept of elain choosing who she loves and not having a bond define it for her)

this collection of short elriel oneshots by @a-novel-blog (so well written and so soft!!! I love gentle!elriel)

‘cause by @noodlecatposts (best friends feysand au that made me smile :’)

gingersnap! by noodlecatposts (this is so cute! and so soft! in which azriel is allergic to cats, and elain has one)

stay by noodlecatposts (I am. such. a sucker for best friends to lovers fics. the pining in this made me wanna cry I love this)

bite me, asshole by accidental_optimism (nessian oneshot! mostly revolves around cassian taking care of a sick nesta)

distractions by @rhysanoodle (a super cute and fluffy elriel coffee shop au!!)

is that my shirt? by rhysanoodle (a cute elriel oneshot that had me screeching!!)

perfectly aligned by rhysanoodle (over 200k word fic about elriel falling in love, includes smut)

dreams answered by @radientwings (a collection of oneshots, the elriel ones made me sob with joy)

songs of shadow by radientwings (a collection of elriel stories...the writing style is so perfect and I love it)

to flower by literarynonsensefics (short and sweet elriel oneshot hehe)

sharing sunsets by librarian of velaris (elriel & sunsets & fluff :)

navy suits & chelsea boots by feathery_malignancy (fair warning, the latter 2 chapters have smut but y’all...the pining in this? unmatched!!!)

call out my name by myownremedy (azriel pining for elain!!! so cute :’) but also pls be aware that the last like 1/3 of this fic is like. smut. but with like fluff mixed in lol)

long shot by myownremedy (listen. I will never tire of elriel coffee aus)

cake & kisses by @mehlisssa (in which elriel is expecting and display pure domestic fluff tHIS IS THE CUTEST ONESHOT EVER)

bloom by swishandflickwit (elriel fluff which is SO CUTE and also followed by smut, but at least it’s not too explicit)

— percy jackson

a storm in my best dress by herecomesthepun (percabeth soulmate au? say less! oh but also it’s lowkey enemies to friends and also a high school au! also jasper is the stable relationship 10/10 love that for them!! very long, very good :)

kiss me once 'cause you know i had a long night by herecomesthepun (GUYS THIS IS SO GOOD I ACTUALLY CACKLED LMAOOO the dialogue is *chefskiss* and jason fawning over piper is also *chefskiss* also this is an office percabeth/jasper oneshot, absolutely amazing)

‘cause you’ve been sinning in this city by @seaweedbraens (percabeth soulmate au in which percy calls everyone by some vaguely related nickname lol)

don’t you let it go by seaweedbraens (percabeth rebirth au with a twist; I SOBBED SO MUCH THIS WAS SO GOOD IM STILL CRYING)

if I were to pluck on your heartstrings by seaweedbraens (percabeth soulmate au with moodstrings!!)

would you strum on mine by seaweedbraens (companion piece to the fic above!!!)

and they were roommates by @bipercabeth (look. I’m a sucker for roommate aus)

I’ll go anywhere with you by bipercabeth (THIS IS SO FREAKING SOFT I COULD CRY OKAY??? ACTUALLY I AM CRYING!!! road trippin percabeth babey!!)

just because i had “spider” sense doesn’t mean i had common sense by bipercabeth (jasper spiderman au, ITS SO SOFT AND I WENT FERAL AT THIS LINE “She inhales, and Jason swears she takes the breath from his lungs. He’d give it to her, if she asked” PLS READ IT ITS SO GOOD IM SOBBING)

I like me better when I’m with you by @cressisaqueen (a tatbilb jasper au!!!!)

my yesterday was blue, today I’m a part of you by pastypirate (a series on how the HOO couples meet as soulmates hehe)

greek dramas and other spectacles by annabetncnase (a percabeth friends to lovers college au!!!)

california howl by suneater (I haven’t read this yet but it features werewolf!jason ans jasper content hehe)

if it’s you and me forever by lesbabeths (piper centric jasper soulmate au set in the canonverse that had me ugly sobbing at 4 am)

dream-like christmas time by @perseannabeth (annabeth gets famous and percy gets left behind, oneshot au)

number one by perseannabeth (percabeth roommate friends to lovers oneshot hehe)

back to the beginning by perseannabeth (percabeth proposal with ties back to the original series!! I loved it 🥺)

everythin' is icy and blue and you are here there too under the mistletoe by perseannabeth (a percabeth fake dating au!! I’ve yet to read it but Marianna is such an amazing writer I have no doubt I’ll love it!!)

sugar, sugar by perseannabeth (another tbr by Marianna on my list haha but the concept of percabeth and jasper meeting over chocolate is just :’)

— fullmetal alchemist (I’ve literally never watched this, but I somehow got obsessed with royai so Uh)

make me better by @lantur (bruh the yearning...I cannot, also beware this contains smut but it’s non graphic, but this fic is centered around roy being blind and riza helping him :)

side to side by lantur (in which royai practices hand to hand combat...the thirst and angst is real damn)

a little bit scandalous by lantur (I cried reading this...yeah)

got your back by lantur (roy’s yearning...I’m gonna cry)

love the way you shine in the night, like the diamond you are by lantur (it starts out funny...and then my heart broke lol)

if you were mine by lantur (so much angst...but take heart! there’s a fluffy ending in sight!)

learning as we go by megthemighty (high school teacher au!! fluffy!!)

are you asleep? by fullmetalscully (fma as a romcom? yes! I cackled while reading this LOL)

royai collections by fullmetalscully (royai oneshots, there’s a mix of angst and fluff. but mostly angst ;-;)

smoke and gunpowder by @eskalations (royai genderbend au!)

some things last a long time by akingdomofunicorns (royai coffee shop au)

against the run of play by bergamots (in which roy is a rugby player and riza is a neurotrauma specialist, I love how this fic includes tweets and articles!!)

you pull me through time by @ohmytheon (100 royai oneshots, so cute!!)

lessons in formality by @royai (royai valentine’s au!! iTS SO SOFT IM SCREAMING)

don’t let your students trick you into an equivalent exchange (a royai teacher au oneshot! say less!!!)

missed opportunities by ohmytheon (royai christmas mistletoe oneshot!!!!)

[saphie3243]

Sympathy for the Devil, Chapter 45 - Service

Summary: It’s the first real battle of the war with Hybern, and Nesta finds ways to be of service to the war effort. (Nesta POV of the first full battle in ACOWAR)

Notes: this the first chapter of my fic that really doesn’t need the other 44 chapters to make sense. And it’s mostly fluffy nonsense, so I wanted to post the text here. The Elain conversation might be a bit confusing, but it’s really short at the start.

Word Count: 6000+

Read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26334061/chapters/69611046

Their tents went up before even Rhys and Feyre’s. Morrigan’s orders. Nesta picked up her sister once more while camp-mothers erected Elain’s tent for her and summoned in the furniture. As soon as it was done, she brought Elain inside and tucked her into a warm cot. Nesta’s tent went up next to it, followed by Az’s on Elain’s other side, Mor‘s out front, and Cassian’s flanking Nesta’s tent. Perfectly insulated from the camp at large. Good. No one else needed to see this.

Nesta sat in a chair next to her bedside, legs crossed, watching. One of the camp mothers stopped at the entrance. “Milady, your tent is up.”

“Thank you,” Nesta responded. The woman was the closest thing to middle-aged Nesta had ever seen a fae. Magda was a crone, and the rest were young no matter how old. She, too, was youthful in her face, but hard work had given her lines. Either labor or Illyrian heritage gave her mass, and a long day made her tired. She bowed her head and turned around. The scars on her wings gleaming as she left.

Nesta watched the entrance for a moment longer and turned back to her sister. They had not been alone since Graysen’s rejection. “Are you here or in the memories?” she asked.

“He’s going to ask Tabitha,” she said shamefully, turtling her head deep into the covers.

“I could have told you that,” Nesta crossed her arms.

“I saw it when he asked for the ring. Him on knees in front of her,” she blinked away some tears. “I don’t see her with him though.”

“You don’t?”

“I see… I see them sometimes- our friends. Tabitha is always with a boy, but never a man.”

Nesta whispered, “George.” Elain craned her head up in question. “Her son,” Nesta explained.

“She had a son?” Elain asked, slightly more animated, causing some covers to fall from her shoulders.

“Did you not know?”

“I thought it was just a rumor,” Elain whispered, then with more solemnity as she sunk back down, “I thought a lot of things were just rumors.” More tears came. So many more. Nesta pulled up the fallen covers to tuck her in, then stroked her cheek gently. Elain turned away, pulling the covers up higher.

“Elain?”

“This is the last time,” she said. “But can I just… be alone?”

Nesta nodded even though Elain couldn’t see it. “I’ll be next door, ok?”

Cassian was standing in front of her tent, arms crossed in front of him, leaning on one leg, waiting on his tent, apparently. It was cold. She opened her tent and held the flap open, “Want to wait inside?” She offered.

He looked back at his half-erected tent, the snow around them, nodded and followed her in.

“How is she doing?”

Nesta stretched her neck, looking at the wall of her tent as though she could see through to where Elain lay. “Three sisters, three broken engagements, and Elain had to be the one that didn’t end it on her terms,” she sighed and rubbed between her eyes. “Tea?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

Her tent was identical to Elain’s, if slightly different colors. Not as big as the High Lord tent, but it was cozy. A table against one of the sides had a small oil lamp-stove, teas, and a kettle. Next to it was buckets of water for whatever purposes. Her trunk and a chair were on the other side. The cot in the middle was as nice as Elain’s. She lit the stove and started heating the water while Cassian sat tentatively on her trunk.

“I’m surprised you aren’t still with her.”

“She wants to be alone. I don’t blame her.” She set out the cups and filled little tea balls. The beauty of magic stoves, the kettle whistled almost immediately. She handed him a cup and took a seat on her cot.

“Worried about tomorrow?” she asked him at the same time he asked her, “Three engagements?”

There was another silent pause. She repeated her question, “Worried about tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “No. Azriel verified Jurian’s intel. They aren’t expecting us, and we will be very ready for them. It’s just… the buzz.” She cocked her head in question. “Before battle, the atmosphere changes. Apprehension, excitement, it all blends. Makes it hard to rest.”

Nesta nodded. “How did you deal with it?”

“Drinking and fucking, usually,” he said with a shit-eating grin. She raised an eye-brow at him.

“Not in this tent, you’re not.”

“Of course not. I can’t go two nights without sleep before battle, anyway,” he kept his smile. “We’re not all you.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” she countered, taking a sip of her tea. Between Elain, the Wall, and battle tomorrow, she’d highly doubted she’d be getting to sleep tonight.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked, she- along with most of them- didn’t touch their lunch.

“Not since… breakfast,” in the Dawn Court, because this day was just so very long.

Cassian was immediately at the entrance, sticking his head out and asking for food. “Two plates, please Marta. Thank you.” He turned back around and smiled again. “I heard you slapped that little shit.”

“Of course that makes you smile,” she rolled her eyes. The same woman who set up her tent brought by dinner more quickly than Nesta would have thought. Things must happen faster when the general asks for them. Marta brought them bowls of stew and a loaf of crusty bread.

“Thank you,” Cassian said, taking the food from her. Nesta parroted from deeper inside. Cassian set the food on the table and indicated she join him with a jerk of his head. She came over and took the seat as Cassian pulled up the trunk to sit with her.

She broke the bread, placing the bigger piece next to his bowl. “I wasn’t going to do anything. If he just turned her down, I was going to let it go.”

“Really?” He didn’t seem to believe that for a second.

Nesta rolled her eyes again. “I’d rather he turn her down than stay for obligation. I can’t fault someone for their feelings,” she sighed, “but he just kept going.”

“I can fault him. Not wanting to marry because she’s fae-”

“I know you don’t understand it,” Nesta interrupted. “But you aren’t human.” They were silent again. Nesta ripped off a piece of bread and dipped it in her soup - time to change the topic. “Did you know Jurian?”

Cassian considered. “I was in the front lines then- a foot soldier. I fought with him, certainly, but I was one of hundreds. The others knew him better, I mostly knew him by reputation… and after Clythia, I didn’t want to know him better.” The disgust came back, the one they all had when speaking of the actions that practically won the war. “I take it from your scowl, you disagree?”

“You’re not-”

“Human?” His voice rose, not much, but enough. “That’s not an excuse. And if you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, you aren’t either.”

Nesta slammed her spoon on the table. “I am well aware what was done to me,” she snarled. “And I am also aware that is nothing compared to what Hybern did to his slaves, and what he will do if he has them again.”

“So the ends justify the means?”

“Your history books refer to humans as chattel. You get offended at being called ‘lesser fae’. Was his action underhanded, manipulative, and horrible? Absolutely. But it worked. And it turned the tide of the war.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t expect you to believe in victory at any costs,” he shook his head and picked at his stew.

“When the other outcome is desolation? Damn straight.” Nesta took another bite of her dinner.

“So why not train with me?” Cassian flicked his gaze up to hers. He leaned in, getting close- too close. Nesta froze. “If you believe in victory at all costs, why not learn to fight, join the battle yourself.”

He was so close, looking at her with such intensity. This was too much. She couldn’t just look away. She couldn’t dismiss the question. Why did she keep letting him do this? And this time was entirely on her. They spend one night drinking to escape raucous sex noises and suddenly they’re what, “friends?” The fuck was she doing inviting him in? She was practically asking for this.

“I won’t turn the tide,” she finally said.

He stayed close. “You are stronger than you think, Nesta Archeron.” He backed away, back to dinner. “And with me as your teacher, it wouldn’t matter anyway.”

They finished dinner and Nesta took their empty bowls and set them outside the tent. By the time she turned around, Cassian had moved to her cot and was lounging across it.

“Your own tent is set up, you know.”

“But I like your tent,” he beamed. “And I was thinking I’d call in my favor.”

“What favor?”

“I’ve been flying all day,” he turned over onto his stomach, wings falling down on either side of the cot. “And it’s made me very sore. I sure could use a massage.”

Nesta felt red fill her cheeks, but somehow kept her cool. “I didn’t realize you demand payment for your services.”

He turned his head to her, resting it on his folded arms. “I’m not demanding. You don’t have to do anything. But I do think it would be a pleasant thank you for saving you last night.” His wings flared and settled. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my shirt on, wouldn’t want to work you up,” he winked. This… was a bad idea. This was a dumb idea. She should just tell him to leave, or walk over and steal his tent for the night. Or leave and tell on him to Azriel. Really anything. Anything other than what she was currently doing.

Which was slowly, but surely, without taking her eyes off of his, walking towards him. She got to the edge of the cot and extended a hand, slowly tracing a line down the outside of his wing. He shivered. She pressed the rest of her hand against the surface. It was an odd texture, the same as skin, and she could tell it was supposed to be smooth like it. But there were so many little scars that bumped on the pads of her fingers. Some from Hybern, some must have been from before.

“As lovely as that is, it’s my back that-” his breath caught in a simply delicious way as her finger traced up to the bones. Oh, she thought, locking that information away for later. Later? What? Nesta shook the thought from her head and changed her target. She moved her hands to his back, starting with the shoulder closest to her.

She didn’t realize he wasn’t wearing his leathers when he came in, just a thick wool undershirt. She could feel the mass of muscle underneath the clothes. The very hard, very thick, mass of muscles. She explored a bit more with her touch, digging in the way he did for her that night, and this time the soft groan was from relaxation, not… whatever the wing did to him.

From wear she stood, with his sheer mass, there was not much else she could reach. And well, she had already come this far. “Don’t expect this again,” she said as she climbed on top of him, sitting down on his (very round, very firm) ass and bracing her legs on either side of him. She felt him about to say something and cut him off, “Can it or I stop.” He said nothing.

Nesta went back to working his shoulders, this time both at once. It was a bit of a challenge, as she had to lean forward, but not accidentally put weight on his wings. And he was so tall she had to stretch to reach. She moved down to the blades of the shoulders, digging deep into a bump just inside the bone. It ground under her ministrations and Cassian let out an absolutely sinful moan. “Shh,” she scolded.

“It was a good spot!” he defended.

“Shh!”

“Can I at least ask a question?” The silence was a little awkward. She allowed it. “You said three engagements. I hadn’t realized you and Clare-”

“Not Clare,” Nesta dug her knuckle into his knot, causing another groan - he bit this one off. She eased up a bit, going lighter on that spot for a bit.

“Then who-”

“A nobody. We were engaged for convenience, I broke it off when he no longer was.” She didn’t know how he always saw her, especially now when he wasn’t even looking. But he, so quietly, so gently, asked:

“Was he the one who-”

“I said one question,” she interrupted, going much too hard on a bone, causing him to cry out. But he didn’t say anything else about it.

He just bit his lip and let Nesta go back to work. When she finally got down grinding out the knots on his upper back, she found a new issue, the wings. They grew out on either side of his spine, going down most of the length of his back. From how he laid out, they were blocking most of the sides of his back, so she just took to gently rubbing little curly-cues up and down what little space was exposed on either side of his spine.

She got to the bottom and could have stopped, but this was oddly meditative. So she kept going. From the bottom of the spine, she fanned out and curved up, starting a path underneath the wings. Her knuckles brushed on the underside of his wings and he shuddered again. She kept going. Another shudder and then he was on his side, his hip digging between her legs.

His head was propped up on his hand. “If you keep going there, this night might have a very different ending than what you have in mind.”

“Then we are done,” Nesta said, pushing off him before he shifted again and she let out a noise from the friction.

As she got her leg clear of him, he sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap on the bed just long enough to give thanks. “Thank you. I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he whispered in her ear just before kissing her cheek. He let go immediately after, allowing her, in her outrage, to twist around and try to whack him in the head. He grabbed the hand that went for his jaw and held in place, his other arm going around her waist, holding her so she was sideways, with her legs up on the bed.

“Let me go,” she said, hoping it sounded firm despite the heat on her face.

“I taught you - just today, I might add- how to escape a hold. Can you really not get out of this?”  

“Cassian!” she hissed.

“Ok, fine,” he nodded, and then looked back up with a gleam in his eye, “Only if you promise not to hit me.”

She glared at him. One second passed. Then another. And another.

“Guess I’m sleeping here then!” He threw his body sideways down on the cot, bringing Nesta back with him.

“You are not sleeping here!” She wiggled in his arms, turning so she could push off of him, but it just left their bodies facing each other.

“Why not? It’s cold and I’m so hot.” Said with the confidence of a man who knows exactly how attractive he is.

“You’re a brute.”

“A very relaxed one now, thank you,” he smiled right into her face.

“A giant brute.”

“Nesta,” he said her name with a whisper. Her nostrils flared. “You haven’t told me to leave yet.”

No, she hadn’t.  

“I can’t sleep like this!” she argued.

“That’s not telling me to leave.”

“Would you even stay?” she accused. There was no way he would actually stay the night here. He just wanted to annoy her with the possibility. There was no way-

“If you let me,” he answered in that raspy voice of his. He wasn’t looking anywhere but her eyes, holding her close, deadly serious. Nesta gulped.

“Are you that worried about tomorrow?”

“Not at all,” he smiled.

“Do you feel bad about what happened today?” She meant the Wall, maybe her sister...

“Not why I’m here,” he answered.

“Then why would you stay?” she asked.

His eyes flared, the dark flare she’s seen in her bedroom, the quiver of his smile. But it was his forehead that he pushed to hers as he answered. “Because you let me.”

Nesta took in a breath, and with him holding her like this, all she breathed in was him. Leather and the wind and the grass and him. Today sucked. It royally sucked. The Wall fell, her sister was next door crying, and she was laying in this bat’s arms, comfortable and warm.

“I’m still wearing my shoes,” she mumbled. He let go of her. Nesta pushed off him and got up. She pulled off her belt and placed it - and the dagger attached to it - on ground next to the head of the bed, earning a grunt of approval from behind her. She kicked off her leather boots and put them at the foot of the bed. She threw a glance over her shoulder at him, he had sat up now, and was watching her very carefully. With a steadying breath, Nesta bunched up her wool dress and pulled it over her head. She heard a sharp intake from behind her, but didn’t turn around as she neatly folded the dress and placed it in the clothes trunk. She pulled the pin from her hair and placed it on the table.

When everything was in its place, she turned around to him again. It wasn’t like she was naked, she still had on her chemise, her bloomers, he regularly saw more of her sister and Morrigan. Cassian was sitting on the cot, watching her very carefully. His boots now neatly dwarfing hers at the foot of the bed, a set of knives by on the ground by where his head would be, and his leather breaches discarded haphazardly on the ground. He kept his shirt on, and his linen under breached were modest enough to cover everything, but her eyes still caught on the budle between his thighs.

She approached the bed and he backed up a bit, to make sure she had space. She stopped just as her legs hit the edge. “Just sleeping,” she said definitively.

“Of course,” he nodded.

“Because it’s cold.”

“Sure,” he said, sarcasm re-entering his tone. But he agreed. So Nesta climbed in with him. They lay down facing one another, one of Cassian’s arms acting as a pillow. With this position, she found her face very comfortable nuzzled into his chest. He pulled the furs up to cover them both, creating the perfect cocoon of warmth. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, to breathe in and sleep. His free arm wrapped around her and she fell asleep like that, feeling perfectly safe for the first time in… for the first time.

She decided that the bond had nothing whatsoever to do with it. It had to be because he gave her a knife.

___

Staying in camp while everyone went to battle was the torture Hybern failed to do when she was in a dungeon.

She woke in Cassian’s arms. More accurately, Cassian woke her gently to get her off of his arm so he could get up and get dressed.

“Nesta, Nesta, it’s time to get up.” She yawned into his chest and started to rise, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. By the time he had gotten out of bed and was pulling up his pants, she had fully woken up and realized what the hell she had done last night.

She slept with Cassian.

She soberly slept with Cassian.

In his arms. All night. Snuggled.

“Cassian.”

“Yes?” he asked, sitting next to her and pulling on his boots.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

He paused in the tying of his laces before agreeing. “Sure.”

“I don’t want 50 questions with Feyre.” Or judgement from Mor. Or looks from Rhysand. He looked back at her and nodded. He reached behind and grabbed his bandolier. Strapping his knives to himself, he nodded to her and headed for the door.

“Cassian,” she said again.

“I won’t let anyone see me,” he answered.

She shook her head. “Win.”

He met her gaze for a long moment. With an evil grin he responded, “As you wish.” And then he left for war.

And so began a long day of waiting. Elain wasn’t crying anymore, but she was sleeping. Whether it was because she had been up all night mourning or because she was wandering her memories, Nesta didn’t know. But watching her sleep peacefully got boring pretty damn quick. Doing nothing got pretty damn boring pretty quick.

Nesta walked around the camp. It was empty, but not devoid of people. The camp-mothers flitted about, some prepping dinner, others cleaning linens, some were pre-packing, in case the order to move was given. If there were jobs for non-combatants to do, then maybe she could help here. Nesta approached the one that seemed to be giving orders to the others.

“Hello…?”

“Nonnie,” she answered the unspoken question and bowed her head. “Lady Nesta.”

“Nice to meet you, Nonnie,” Nesta bowed her head back. “Is there anything that I can do?”

The thin, stern looking Illyrian woman seemed surprised by the question, but nodded. She sent Nesta to a group of women preparing medical supplies. They were filling vials with vats of potions, tearing bandages, assembling suture kits, anything that would make it easier for healers to do their duty when the battle ended. The women all nodded to Nesta as she came over, and if they thought it was odd that the High Lady’s sister was volunteering to work, they didn’t voice it.

Cassian was right last night. If she wasn’t going to be able to help fight the war, then she was at least going to help support the ones that were. One of the women put a roll of linen in front of Nesta. She asked if she needed a knife. With a little smile, she shook her head and unsheathed the dagger Cassian gave her. The woman squinted at it, but nodded and told Nesta to make the bandaged three knuckles wide.

She didn’t speak as she worked the way the Illyrians around her did. But she listened. They chattered about soldiers, about the war, about what camps they came from. Some of them were married to soldiers, others to lords, it seemed Nonnie was even Devlon’s mother. Nesta smiled. That’s why they didn’t bat an eye, Nesta thought, it was just what these women did at war - whatever they could.

Where Devlon and his men seemed to be afraid of her, the women didn’t care. At most she had one old crone - the lady mixing the potions- ask her, “Are you really a witch?”

“Yes,” Nestaa answered solemnly.

“Been an age since I last saw a witch,” the crone nodded to Nesta’s work, “make sure those bandages are straight.”

And that was that. She still felt abuzz thinking about the battlefield, the progress, and wanted nothing more than to be there, watching, helping, but at least she was doing something. And there was dignity in what she was doing, however simple it seemed. She had been told that Illyrian women were mistreated, repressed. She could see the scars from where the older women had their wings clipped, but… they didn’t seem miserable. They smiled, they took pride in their work, their status. It wasn’t fighting, but it was essential, and they understood that. Nesta wasn’t an idiot, she knew that the lack of choice in the matter was what Cassian and Azriel had problems with, but she couldn’t help thinking that they didn’t understand this part, either. Not everyone is a fighter. It doesn’t mean their work isn’t noble.

Nonnie came back. “Battle’s over. Camp is moving to the battlefield. Medics first.” And that was it. Supply runners strapped up with packs of medical supplies, held onto healers and winnowed them out. Morrigan and Feyre came back to take on this roll as well. The rest of the camp began to break down.

The kitchen staff went next, so they could finish dinner prep, and finally the tents, armor, and spare weapons. Nesta went last with Elain. She had wanted to go with the medical staff, to continue her little job, but Morrigan pointed out that the battlefield hadn’t been cleared yet, and that Elain might not want to see the carnage. Nesta relented. At least Mor made it clear that the battle was a landslide victory with minimal casualties. That she didn’t bring up Cassian was enough to know he was probably ok. She still kept pacing though, waiting, twiddling her thumbs, useless.

Landing in the new camp was jarring against the peaceful work of just hours ago. It was warm, for one - they were in the Summer court now. But the energy was different. The soldiers around her buzzed, excited and gossiping about their general. How he tore through Hybern’s lines, how he made a miraculous throw of a spear, how he was Enalius reborn. “He has seven siphons, after all,” one said. She knew the siphon thing was a mark of power, but she’d have to ask him or Az about Enalius later. The excitement was a stark contrast to the ash and blood that still soaked the battlefield. Rhysand had cleared the corpses, but the stench of death and Hybern remained.

She tried not to linger on that stench for too long. She needed to get back to work. With a quick check on Elain - now sleeping just as she was only now in a new location - she asked where the medical ladies were.

Feyre, done winnowing people back and forth as Nesta and Elain were the final packages, joined her. The ladies all bowed quickly to their High Lady and handed them each a bolt of linen. With actual patients here, the staff was scattered about, no longer keeping around a single work area. As soon as they finished a basket of bandages, they were sent off to deliver them to a medic who needed them. Deliveries usually blended with some menial chores to help with treatment. Taking the used bandages, fetching water, washing the wound so the healer could finish up their current patient and immediately switch to suturing this one.  It was tiring, and mud caked on her dress as they stomped around, but it was a good kind of tired, and exhilarating one. That was new to her.  

Nesta felt Cassian’s approach before she heard him. She snapped her head up to him. He was filthy, covered in the blood of his enemies and the mud of the field. The dark plate mail still strapped to his body, but his helmet, at least, was off - tucked in the crook of his arm- his dominant arm.

It took her all of four seconds to piece together why Cassian, warrior extraordinar, the man who slept with his blades in reach and seemed pleased that she did, too, would carry his helmet in such a way that prevented easy access to the weapons strapped to his hip. She was walking over to him before she knew what she was doing.  “You’re hurt.”

“It’s fine.”

She glared up at him for a moment, she’d told him that once when she was bleeding, and she was lying. Without answering, she went for his arm. He lifted it to her. With a flash of his siphons, the armor receded enough to expose a swollen and broken wrist.

“You know better than to walk around with an injury,” Rhysand scolded behind them.

“I was busy.” If Cassian was taking that tone with Rhysand, then he was more tired and probably in more pain than he was letting on. “And it’ll be fixed by morning.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow at him, scowled and pressed a finger lightly into it, causing him to hiss. Better by morning didn’t mean it didn’t need attention now.  “How do I fix it?” She asked, since she certainly wasn’t going to let him walk around with a broken wrist.

“Icing it usually helps, but wrapping it will just lock it in place long enough for the sprain to repair itself���”

Nesta was already reaching for the pitcher of water and bandages. She had assisted enough already today to know how to wash it correctly, at least When she started wrapping it, she asked him for his help. “Tell me if it’s not right,” she requested. He nodded. She started the bandage two inches below the injury, holding it in place with her fingers - like she saw the medics do. She wrapped it around, down, and then started up.

“Too loose,” Cassian commented. She nodded and pulled tighter, he winced, “too tight.” She found a balance, he still winced, but it was from his injury being pushed back into position, not because she was hurting him. She got to the end and did the final tie off, tucking the bandages back into themselves. It was probably a sloppy job, but it was something.

He nodded at her work and let go of his arm, ready to be done with it. But his other hand shot out and grasped her finger. She looked up at him, gratitude finding and affection in his beautiful hazel eyes. “Thank you,” his voice was rough, deep. He said it the same way he had told her his reasons for staying with her the night before.

She wanted to cry as she looked over him. He had gone to war and he won, like she asked. He was a hero of the first battle, and he was standing in front of her with nothing more than a broken wrist. It was going to be ok. This man, this male, he could keep his promise. He could protect her people. He was Enalius reborn, apparently.

She was going to ask him to explain that one tonight when Morrigan’s voice came from behind them. She had forgotten they weren’t alone. Cassian had, too, from the way he jerked back his hand. But she could still feel it, the soft calluses of his fingers, the strengthening connection between them.

Nesta rushed back to the tent, making an excuse out of getting more water, trying very hard to remember why she had asked him not to tell anyone. It took longer than she would like to admit. Especially when she could hear him chatting away like it was nothing.

___

Despite it being a landslide victory, there were enough injuries to keep Feyre and Nesta up for hours after dark. They didn’t even stop to eat. They just kept working. Tearing up bandages, delivering them to sick beds, clearing the old ones, ferrying out tools, washing wounds, whatever they could do to help.

More than once, they were asked to help hold down the patients. Keep them from spasming out of surgery. It was hard, for those cases, to remember the difference between medicine and torture. But Nesta grit her teeth and held firm, sometimes whispering to the male some platitudes, sometimes letting them focus on their fear of being held by a witch rather than the pain of sutures.

It wasn’t until Nonnie sent them away that they finally went back to their tents to rest. Nesta stopped by Elain’s first, popping only her head in to check on her. The rest of Nesta was macabre enough that she was afraid it would scare Elain if she saw. Luckily, she was still asleep. There were dirty dishes on her table, so she had eaten at some point, then. That’s good then.

Nesta’s stomach grumbled and she ignored it, trudging the 6 feet to her tent flap. The first thing she registered when she stepped in was the smell of stew - the food she’d been informed would be the default meal for this war. The second was the goblet of water thrust in her face that she took and drank without thinking.  The third was the general standing over her with the pitcher and dinner.

“Cassian!” She whispered loudly - not wanting to wake anyone else in camp, also her throat hurt? How did that happen? She finished the water in the cup. He traded her the cup for food and guided her to a chair. “What are you doing here?”

“You have a habit of getting lost in your tasks. Eat.” He pointed to the food and refilled her water.

“You could have left it on the table,” she said between bites. Manners be damned.

“But then how would I repay you for my wrist?” he held up his arm and sat on the bed. She rolled her eyes and started inhaling the bread.  

She paused for a drink of water. “Aren’t you tired?” She could see it in his eyes. He was exhausted when she set the wrist, he had to be entirely on fumes now.

“Probably as much as you,” he smiled at her. “Nonnie mentioned you working with the females all day.”

Nesta drank down the last of the broth and wiped her mouth. “I cut bandages all day,” she said dismissively.

“From the state of you, you did a mighty bit more than that.”

She looked down at her filthy gown. She looked as bad as he did just hours ago. To say she needed a bath was an understatement. But it was already late, the ladies would be tired, too. She could change tonight and ask for hot water tomorrow.

“Thank you for dinner, but I think we both need sleep now more than anything.”

“You are not getting into this bed without a bath first.”

“Excuse me?”

Cassian pointed to the side of the tent. 2 buckets of water sat steaming with towels and soap arranged nicely next to them. “Figured that could cover your face, hands, and feet. Marta will get you a proper bath tomorrow.”

Nesta didn’t even hear him. She just sighed and stripped her outer dress as she walked over to the blessed hot water.

“Oh, might need to change that one, too.” Nesta turned to look at him and saw where he was pointing. One of the men she held down had knocked her into the dirt, and apparently the blood on the ground had soaked through to her chemise as well, getting both the front and the back. That’s why I felt wet. She had thought it was just sweat. There was that mixed in there, too.  

“Turn around,” she said to Cassian. Wondering why that was her order, and not “leave.” But he did as he was asked immediately and she was already starting to untie her chemise’s laces. She peeled the sweaty, bloody garment off, finding it had soaked through to her skin. She dipped a washcloth in the water and wiped her front down first. She dipped the washcloth in the second bucket, rinsing it, and when back to the first. With a wet splosh, she slapped the cloth to her back, trying to get the grime she felt there.

“Nes, that’s not going to work.”

“Don’t call me Nes,” she turned to see him walking to her. Nesta spun back around and covered her chest, red as a cherry. “I said turn around.”

“You’ve got a gallon of blood down your back, let me help,” he was behind her now. “I’m not looking at your- chest.” From the stumble, she could infer the “much” missing from the end of that sentence. His arm rested on her shoulder, his palm up and hand open. She huffed and placed the washcloth in it.

He didn’t say anything as he methodically wiped down her back. He didn’t take his time, he didn’t linger, though Nesta’s breath still hitched and she knew she’d imagine this night very differently in the future whether she wanted to or not. She could feel her pulse quicken every time the cloth met skin, every time a knuckle brushed on her spine. She hoped he didn’t notice. He didn’t seem to. He just got her clean and handed the cloth back. She listened as he walked back over the bed. “I’m facing the wall now,” he called.

Nesta took a stuttering breath and washed her arms and legs as quickly as possible. She wiped down her face last and pulled the towel around her. She finally turned around, and he was sitting on the far end of the bed, facing the cloth wall. She couldn’t be sure, but his ears were definitely red.

“I’m getting dressed now.” She stepped over to her trunk and pulled out another chemise and pulled it over her head. Once she had that coverage, she removed a pair of clean bloomers and changed them under the privacy of her skirt. “Ok you can turn around.”

He turned slowly to her. The red she saw on ears was everywhere on his face. It would be cute if he didn’t look so… hungry. He looked her up and down, eyes catching on the chest he’d now had the pleasure of seeing. But whatever pure male instinct made him zero in on her breasts, he choked down so he could look her in the eye. And she nearly melted at the heat in that look.

“Why…” he said slowly, “didn’t you ask me to leave?”

“Why did you stay?” she countered.

“I wanted to.”

She took a breath. “Well, I wanted you to... too.”

[rayonfrozenwings]

Waiting in the Freezing Dark: Chapter 8 - Illyrian Blades

Spoiler Alert: Contains references to ACOFAS.

Authors Note: So it’s been a very long hiatus, because Kingdom of Ash destroyed me and stole all my creative energy. But I have 5 new chapters that I will post soon. :D

A Nessian Fan Fiction: Characters all belong to Sarah J Maas and her book series A Court of Thorns and Roses. This Story takes place after ACOFAS. The story has Multiple POV’s, taking place in the Illyrian camp, Windhaven, Nesta and Cassian are living together at the behest of the high lord and lady of the night court. 

Chapter 8 - Illyrian Blades 

Previous chapters are here: 1, 2, 3, 4 , 5 , 6 7 and Masterlist here.

I have also put this on AO3: Series Link  :)

WC: 2538

Chapter 8 - Illyrian Blades Nesta

Nesta awoke slowly, sleep clinging to the edges of her eyes and assessed her surroundings, her bedroom stared back at her, that voice inside asking her, ‘where else would she be?’ It had become a habit, never sure of what was a dream and what was reality. It was surprisingly comforting to know exactly where you were and that you were safe.

Stretching like a cat in the sun, Nesta rose, grabbed her clothing and headed for the bathroom. She would avoid a bath today, using her washcloth instead, no point in torturing herself if she didn't have to. The small stash of perfumed soap she had acquired in Velaris was lasting well, one of the perks of leading a sedentary lifestyle - she needed ways to avoid being submerged each day and the zesty smelling soap did the trick. At least for now, she had an eternity to figure out how to have a bath.

Ready for the day, Nesta walked into the main room and remembered - he was gone.

The hollowness entered her again.

He was a big dumb bat! She didn’t need to feel this way. Grabbing her bag and book she took off and walked up the winding road Emerie’s.

Nesta had been reading the illyrian history book well into the night and early morning. Surprisingly it was more interesting than she thought it would be. A lot of statements rang false to her ears, but she couldn’t explain why except to say she knew that they were wrong. They say history is written by the victors and it seemed the illyrians won more than they lost, but the ways they won didn't seem to be accurately recorded. Lies fought for freedom, jumping off the page like they had been held against their will. A convenient facet of her power, finding things that didn't want to be found; taking notice of things that didn't want you to take notice, seeing the truth behind a glamour. The history book was captivating and something she would keep looking into and something that she would listen carefully to, find out what the truth really was. Maybe it was just a fantasy novel hidden in between the pages and had no history to it at all.

Female Warriors walked down to the training ring, Nesta eyed them up and down, chin raising in disapproval as she passed - a seemingly late start for them since they were supposed to be training with the males and they started at dawn. She couldn’t help but think that they were wasting an opportunity. One of them smiled at Nesta and the second one crashed into her shoulder while passing as neither her or the illyrian had given way to the other.  Nesta watched them go, silently cursing them and hoping they received their due in the training ring.

Their illyrian leathers appeared to be of an older style; older than anything she had seen Cassian or Azriel wear, clumsy and large. Possibly even made for the males as they didn’t seem to fit their bodies quite right. How on earth were they meant to train if their armor didn’t fit correctly? Nesta could feel her anger rise, females being treated as less than the males. Temper rising with the bile in her throat at the injustice.

The world tipped and the ground came up to meet her, a hand shot out and grabbed her, the smell of leather taking over her senses, protecting her from falling flat on her face. Nesta turned and looked to her saviour. A beautiful illyrian with warm brown skin and golden eyes was holding her still, the muscles corded in her lean arm from the effort. Nesta blushed and stood quickly, brushing her skirts down.

“Thank you,” she quickly huffed out, her heart still racing from her fall. The female just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Next time you really should look ahead - you know,” she made a pointing gesture ahead of her with her hand, “at where you are going.”

The smile she wore was brilliant, her perfect teeth gleamed and a pair of slightly elongated canines caught Nesta’s attention, like this warrior was about to devour her prey and Nesta struggled to take a breath.

“Or perhaps you rather like gawking at us all walking down the street? Are we really that damn attractive? I’ve seen a few good asses in my time, but none of these lot have what I would call a perfect one.”

Nesta’s shock flashed across her face, she hadn’t had the chance to meet many illyrian females as they were always busy with chores or training, Emerie was an exception as she didn’t train. It was the first time in a while that Nesta had no words. Her grey eyes wide and open trying to figure out the situation.

“Look, I can stand here and look stunning all day, but I actually have somewhere to be... and I’m already running late, so i’m just going to go and catch up with the others. I won’t mind if you watch me walk away.” She said with laughter in her voice and off she went down the street, with Nesta watching her go, still stunned in silence.

Emerie

Emerie had been waiting for Nesta to arrive all morning. She wasn't a gossip but needed to know how her talk with Cassian went, especially if she was going to ask him for a favour. Having Nesta and him on good terms would make it infinitely easier than if they were at war.

Mara had been in earlier, trying to persuade Emerie to join her in the training ring but it just wasn't convenient. Her friend just could not see it from Emerie’s point of view no matter how often she told her. She found it hard to see what held Emerie back, Mara had jumped at the opportunity to train, why didn’t Emerie? And although Emerie was technically in the same position, the shop and her ambitions meant she needed to bide her time. So Mara left and caught up with the others, Emerie tidied the shop and promised her that she would meet up later, which only made Mara grin as she skipped out the door.

The bell above the door rang and Emerie turned from her cleaning and thoughts, Nesta was standing in the doorway like a plank of wood. No expression and body rigid.

“It’s not that cold today Nes, it’s warming up. Stop being a drama queen.”

“I just… I’m just trying to think”

“Think?” Emerie laughed.

“I just, I don’t know what just happened.”

“What?”

Nesta blushed and shut the door, quickly coming inside and explaining what happened. Leaving out a lot of the details. In fact nesta really only told emerie two things, that she tripped and that someone stopped her from falling flat on her face.

“That’s it?” Emerie asked, with an eyebrow raised.

“It was mortifying.” Nesta calmly reiterated.

“Nesta, sometimes we trip and fall and we actually hit the ground, you should be happy someone helped you.” She shook her head at Nesta’s stubbornness, “Sometimes you don’t make any sense, so new topic, how did the talk with Cassian go?”

“I thought you were going to tell me about your blades?” Nesta replied calmly.

“Only if you tell me about your talk.”

“If I remember it correctly, you just said I needed to go home and talk to him, but he actually wasn't at home, so it was impossible for me to perform the task and therefore no longer a requirement for you to tell me about the blades.”

“So where is he?”

“I don’t know. Don’t change the subject.” Nesta snipped.

Emerie looked her friend over and saw the rawness there still. There was something more she wasn’t saying but Nesta was never one to give up secrets, especially her own.

“Fine, do you want a drink first? Or can I get you working for me while I tell you the story?”

“I’ll clean but the story better be good!”

So Nesta and Emerie cleaned the bookshelves near the fire where black soot from the flames had built up before escaping out the chimney, and Emerie told her about the blades. Blades that she had had commissioned after her wings were clipped. After she realised that a female might need more protection than that which was offered by males. Males who held no loyalty to her. The blades had not seen a war yet or even been used for protection but they had been used in training and polished to a high shine.

“I have two fighting blades, I trained with my friends Mara and Ceinwen in the forest near the north edge of town, there is a place right before the mountain ridges form. It’s quiet and no-one but us goes there,” Emerie continued.

“When did you last train? It’s just that I haven’t seen you leave the shop and I would like to think that I noticed if you stunk up the place.” Nesta’s tact needed improving, there was a reason she kept her thoughts to herself. When she shared them she was seen as blunt and unfeeling.

“Not since the war” not since her father died Emerie wanted to say.

“Do you miss it?” Nesta raised her chin and looked at Emerie with her grey blue stare, the frosty depths seeing the truth.

“Everyday”

“Why?”

“Why do I do it? Well, when I was clipped, there was a scene, I didn’t go quietly, and that is the short version.” a lump caught in Emerie’s throat, when she was usually so sure of herself, this was a story so few knew. Then she said very quietly “No one should be forced at the hands of another, and I never. Never will be again.”

Nesta’s eyes turned glossy and distant, then quietly she said,

“I meant why haven’t you been training?”

“It’s not easy now, to make time.” she gestured to the shop around them.

“I will help you.”

“How?” the word came out on a wisp of air.

“I will make sure you can train, and that you treat people the way they truly deserve to be treated.” Nesta’s eyes had milky swirls gliding over the grey-blue and her voice didn't seem to be her own. Like some god possessed her swearing an oath. Emerie would never admit it but she was actually a little in awe of Nesta in this moment. This side to her she had only heard about but never seen. A rumor that came back from the war. The warrior witch who fought Hybern.   “But how?”

Nesta looked up at her again, the silver shadows dissapaiting and Nesta’s eyes were left as they once were.

“I ask.”

Nesta

Nesta and Emerie spent the day together, cleaning some more, and discussing ways they might enable Emerie to join the training with the other females. The hurdle of “who would look after the shop” always remained. Nesta wasn’t illyrian and it was hard enough getting customers, so the shop would still be run by Emerie during the day with shorter hours of availability. After much discussion and back and forth they realised training would need to remain secret and occur in the early evenings, the sun was staying in the sky longer, laying the way for more daylight later in the day. It worked to Nesta’s advantage as well. Having had no training of her own she would learn from Emerie and prepare herself for the day when Cassian left her alone. It was great living with an illyrian warrior but she was under no illusion that it would last. Especially since their fight. Emerie thought she might also be able to rope in Mara and Ceinwen, her friends in the camp, to join their training. Giving them some extra practise, and passing on what they learned from their day practices with the males. It all started coming together. The best part of this plan was that is was all coming together without the help of a certain overgrown bat. Emerie closed up the store early and made dinner, Nesta deciding to stay because she never did make it to the market.

It was peaceful, and pleasant, and just like the easy calm she had settled into with Cassian in their own home. She missed him… or maybe she just missed the idea of him?

The ladies finished dinner and sat down with some port, the wine was too awful last night to try a repeat performance today.

“Do you know much about illyrian history?” Nesta asked.

“I know a little, why do you ask?”

“I was reading a boo- “

“Of course you were.” Emerie interrupted, rolling her eyes.

“Let me finish! I was reading a book about illyrian history and it just seems so wrong. It feels wrong.”

“Do you have it with you?”

Nesta went and got the book out of her bag and gave it to Emerie, Emerie’s eyes lit up and she opened the book with awe.

“Why are you looking at it like that?”

“This book is the High Lords book.”

“So?”

“High Lords have books that show things as they want them to be. I mean that the books are history according to them, if it feels wrong, then the history they are passing down isn’t an accurate history of what really happened.”

“I see, that would explain why it feels like lies are slithering across the pages. How do illyrians keep their history then, if not in books? This was the only one I could find on the topic in our house.”

“We tell stories. Pass them down. Talk about heroic feats and celebrate our greatness”

“That seems a little arrogant”

“Have you ever met an illyrian who wasn’t arrogant?”

Nesta looked back at her friend who had that same grin as the female earlier, lighting up her whole face.

“Maybe if you weren’t all so beautiful you wouldn’t be so arrogant!”

Emerie let out a great laugh, “Maybe” was all she said as she went back to drinking her port and picked up her own book to read. Nesta continued to flick through the illyrian history book, getting angrier at what she read. Time ticked on and Emerie was still immersed in her book when Nesta asked,

“Will you tell me?” looking up at Emerie.

“Tell you what?”

“The history?”

Emerie closed her book, “There’s quite a bit, and it’s not usually for the females to tell.” she evaded. “The storytellers get to share the exploits of great heroes, for us all to stand in awe and feel grateful that the mighty male illyrians who came before us have done such amazing things. I wouldn’t be able to share them here incase someone came in.”

“Tell me them at training, I feel like I need to know.”

Emerie looked at Nesta and smiled, tongue in cheek she said “sure, but just remember i’m only a female and I don’t know how to tell it right.”

Nesta laughed and put the history book back in her bag, and packed up ready to go, before the darkness well and truly descended.

Tagged by request: Sorry if some of the urls are wrong.. its been a while since I updated this fic, urls have changed its been so long lol,  just let me know via ask if you want to be added or removed from my tag list for this. :) @fucking-winchester-trash @rhysanoodle @velarxs @lorcanswife @my-fan-side @wolffrising @bellsqueen @aelinashgalathynius @booksaremymate@themoonunderstoodmynightmares @prxthian @nessian-girl @fuzz-dog @archeron-queens @acotar-feels @wickedfangirl99 @empress-ofbloodshed@ame233 @tswaney17 @kefeira @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @abillionlittlepieces@ofstarsanddreams @booksaremymate @ambrosemiller@saltydreamcollector @imfandomtrash-vi @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth @pinkjem30   @urbisie, @howtotameyourillyrian, @illyrianbeauty, @fae-queen-of-the-easton, @faeriequeenofthewest, @aqueentorattlestars, @acoaas @nephelle-warrior-scribe @librarian-of-orynth @anoverstuffedkindle, @miladyaelin, @acoaas, @tntwme @photofeesh @theyretheirthere

[kitashiwrites]

I'm sorry my post was really aggressive. I still stand by my point that it ISN'T fair to dismiss Mor's romantic feelings (or lack thereof) towards Az, but how I acted was really awful. You don't have to post this publicly, but I hope you know I'm very sorry. My intention wasn't to try to start drama, but just receive an explanation over WHY you still ship Moriel. My way of going about it was TERRIBLE. I know sorry is just a word, but I'M SORRY.

2/2 I didn’t send you three asks. I only sent you one? Just to clear that up.3/3 I also didn’t send more than one ask. :/ 

Okay Anon. While I find it extremely hard to believe because of the timing (especially because for as long as I have been on here, I have RARELY gotten asks, let alone 3 in such quick succession that are so similar), as well as the fact that you clearly don’t stand behind your words because you felt the need to do this all on anon/have to make sure we know that you still think we are wrong, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt & accept your apology.In regards to your question, why I still ship Moriel, @sarahviehmann honestly said it best in her original answer to you: “ACOMAF was written in a way that intended for them to be shipped. So those people spent a year building up their fanon and meta and so forth, only to have the rug pulled out from under them.”

(For the sake of everyone, I’m putting this under a cut. It got way long.)

I hated ACOWAR. I’ve made no secret of that. I’ve also made no secret as to WHY. I’ve been writing fic for this series for over a year, & heavily focused on ACOMAF. I started when there were literally 7 fics posted to Ao3. Basically all of my free time at home & all of my breaks at work were spent either writing fic, discussing the series/meta with people here/talking my poor friends’ ears off over dinner, or planning fic for characters I wanted to explore in POV fics like Rhys, Tamlin, & Tarquin. Hell, I still have a 10 chapter Amarantha POV pre-ACOTAR through ACOTAR fic that’s over half written at 16k that I originally wanted to try as a surprise for my readers. I read ACOMAF enough times that I honestly would have said that I knew those characters as well as my own family, knew exactly what happened in which chapters, & got many comments here & on Ao3 from people who felt I’d captured the characters correctly, so I felt pretty good about what to expect going forward.

When ACOWAR spoilers came out, absolutely nothing made sense with what we knew or had been prior established canon. Most of all in regards to Mor, Rhys, Feyre, & Lucien, but I’m going to specifically focus on Mor, since she’s at the crux of the issue at hand. In Mor’s case, we took a woman who is described in ACOMAF as “a queen who owned her body, her life, her destiny, and never apologized for it” & says to Feyre, “I once lived in a place where the opinion of others mattered. It suffocated me, nearly broke me. So you’ll understand me, Feyre, when I say that I know what you feel, and I know what they tried to do to you, and that with enough courage, you can say to hell with a reputation. You do what you love, what you need”, & in ACOWAR made her a victim in circumstances that make absolutely no sense for the character we had known up until that date. Queen of the Hewn City? She wasn’t even treated with enough respect to be prepared to go into a meeting with her abusers, let alone shown that she is in charge. The first real female friend Feyre has ever had? Regulated to acting like a jealous girlfriend around Cassian whenever Nesta got too close. And speaking of Cassian, it was pointed out in another post (I’m sorry I don’t have the link right now) that the Cassian & Mor moments read like they were originally Az & Mor moments & were hastily changed when suddenly they weren’t supposed to be even friends. Nothing in this book read like it had been edited for continuity.

There are many bloggers who are far more qualified than I am to speak on Mor’s coming out scene, & while there was a divide, there were quite a few I know & follow who felt it was poorly written/bad rep, & I agree with their reasoning. Besides the fact that I don’t believe for one dang second that no one in the Inner Circle at a minimum would have picked up on something bothering Mor in 500 years or that she wouldn’t have at least told them even if she hid everything from Keir, there is the fact of Azriel. Azriel is in love with her, no disputing it. But it is mentioned by Rhys that Az has always thought himself unworthy of her, & Mor says that she could take her clothes off in front of him & he wouldn’t do anything. Does that sound like someone who is trying to avoid him because she isn’t interested, or someone who is creepily stalking her? In the Nessian short Wings & Embers, Cassian speaks on their relationship as well: “He wasn’t stupid. He knew she and Azriel were … whatever they were. Knew Azriel had been in love with Mor from the moment she’d strutted into the war-camp five centuries ago. And Cassian had been jealous—of Mor’s shy glances at Azriel in those first few weeks, and the fact that his dearest friend and brother … was looking at someone else.”

I’m not going to rehash Wings & Embers or ACOMAF for you. But as Sarah said, it was clearly written with them as a ship in mind, & this is from the POV of a character that has known them since the beginning, not just a few months like Feyre.

Why I still ship Moriel at this point? Because I ship it in any form. I love her & Az together period, even as friends. This ship was one of the ways @illyriantremors & I bonded originally, before we found out how much else we had in common & she became as good as a biological sister to me (I call her my Threadsister for a reason), because we shipped it back in the beginning before there was really any fic for it because it was overshadowed by Feysand, Nessian, & Elucien. Moriel was our Nessian; the unconfirmed side-ship with so much potential & evidence to back it up. When Sierra met SJM at San Diego Comic Con last summer, SJM dedicated Sierra’s copy of ACOMAF to Moriel. Why the af would an author do that if they planned to destroy a ship in the next book from the beginning?

We still love Moriel because it is hard to let go of something you’ve loved that much after you’ve been strung along & then had the rug pulled out from under you with no actual basis in ACOMAF to say “oh, it was there all along”; like when rereading ACOTAR through the ACOMAF filter, as I like to say to people, & seeing the clues that were left to the deeper story for Rhys. For me, those were not in ACOMAF upon reading it again after ACOWAR. I noticed you using my tags in your defense of yourself to Sarah regarding why I wanted to ignore ACOWAR &, by your interpretation, erase Mor’s sexuality. If you had read any of my blog at all after ACOWAR, you would have read that isn’t true, but I’ll spell it out for you: I want to ignore ACOWAR & what it did to my favorite characters’ personalities/their interactions with each other. I want to forget that Mor’s agency was taken away from her & that she was regulated to a plot twist. I want to forget that Az has been made out to be a creepy stalker. I want to forget Rhys treating Mor like she would be too emotional to deal with the negotiations with Kier & Eris & so he & Az didn’t tell her. I want to forget Feyre using Lucien to make Tamlin jealous in the Spring Court while she dismantled it from within & putting him in danger. And so much more.

I personally hate the book for multiple reasons, ranging everywhere from inconsistent characterization to grammar/editing issues. But I’m stuck with the facts it gave us, which is why writing fic is so hard to even consider anymore. It made everything about the series, not just Mor & Az, something I no longer can love with the intensity I once did, & the fandom diminishes that love more & more everyday with their bullying of people for not believing exactly the way they do, which is exactly what you contributed to when you sent those asks to myself & Sierra. And honestly, I couldn’t care less what you think of me. But if you had even looked at one of Sierra’s actual written posts/answers to asks—just one—you would have seen how quiet she’s been about her love for them as a ship & how determined she’s been to not to offend people while she’s been trying to come to terms with losing something that has been a lifesaver for her, to the point she has mostly stopped contributing to the fandom at all. She posted two Moriel drabbles during her birthday week because she was inspired by the Azriel candle I got her for her birthday, & as she said to you in her response to your original message, they were her way of saying farewell to Moriel. And guess what: even though it isn’t canon, people liked them.

I view Mor as bi, & if she’s given a healthy, happy female love interest in a future installment, then awesome. I want Moriel at least as close friends because I genuinely don’t think Az (at least the one from ACOMAF that actually made sense) would begrudge her if he knew the truth. Would he be sad? Sure, but I think he would support her nonetheless, just as the rest of the Inner Circle would. But I have absolutely no faith that SJM will give Mor anything good because she can milk the drama and turmoil she’s created, & I have no desire to see the characters & ships (across the board) I have loved so much destroyed any further.

I think @my-name-is-fireheart put it perfectly in her chime in on Sarah’s post: “Also, we should keep in mind that Mor expresses sexual attraction to men, she just prefers women. How she feels about men romantically is also blurred, though it’s slightly more clear. She says she doesn’t think she loves Az romantically but she doesn’t want to try it just to see.” SJM didn’t even know how to break her own ship apart properly to fit what you suggested, which is a good chunk of why we are even having this discussion right now.

I know Moriel is no longer canon. Cazigan (Cassian/Azriel/Mor) isn’t canon either, but I still love that. I have enjoyed their interactions with each other more than anything else since they were introduced in ACOMAF. The entire Inner Circle made me so happy for their closeness & how much of a family they were. I feel for a plot twist & a couple extra Benjamin Franklins, SJM destroyed everything that made one of my favorite characters in the entire series who she was (a strong, independent woman who didn’t let her circumstances break her & showed Feyre how not to let hers break her) & made her a poor caricature of herself, & made Az something he never has been before either because SJM hastily had to make her new & poorly executed addition work.

I shouldn’t be surprised though. This is the woman who attempted to retcon Eris of all characters into a decent person. And also took away any modicum of being able to read Tamlin as the multifaceted antagonist he had been & just turned him into a completely hateful ass with no loyalty to anyone to further drive home how perfect Rhys is supposed to be (which he definitely is not in ACOWAR, & I say that as someone who loved the morally grey character of Rhys).

TL;DR I ship Mor with Az in any form, even as friends, Mor being bi is not an issue, & I have lost all respect for SJM as an author after ACOWAR for giving us a poorly written/poorly edited product after the anticipation/hype this book had. Make of that what you will; I don’t care. I’m out of effs to give, & your ask & the other Az one I received, no matter who it was from or what your intentions were, pretty much tipped the scale in favor of me wanting to step back even further & have nothing to do with this fandom ever again.

I would ask that next time you think you have a problem with someone (because I doubt Sierra & I will be the last people you do this to), please think about how it comes across & think about your target. Your original ask was terribly hateful, & there is no amount of apology that can take that hurt away. And you would be amazed how far a little kindness & grace when asking a question instead of an accusatory message can go.

This explanation is more than you probably bargained for when you started this yesterday, but that’s the last I’ll say on any of this.

[illyriantremors]

ACOMAF Part 2.1 The House of Wind: Chapters 14-27 (Rhys POV)

Chapter 14: Feyre’s First Visit to the Townhouse Chapter 15: Rhys Shows Feyre Velaris & Flies Her to Dinner Chapter 16: Feyre’s Dinner with the Inner Circle Chapter 17: Feyre’s Nightmare Chapter 18: The Bone Carver Chapter 19: After the Bone Carver Chapters 20-21: The Weaver & the Memory of Ianthe Chapters 22-24: The First Visit to the Mortal Realms & Meeting Nesta and Elain Chapters 25-27: Feyre trains with Rhys & the Attor Attacks

AN: Chapters 14-27 of ACOMAF from Rhys’s POV! Chapter 14 is pasted below while the remaining chapters linked above go to AO3. I’ve started work on the next set, but don’t have much yet. Enjoy!

Thank you, as always, to @kitashiwrites, who is my rock, my spirit animal, and my grammar instructor who makes this so much easier. Thank you for always instilling confidence in me when I feel like such utter crap about writing these. Your enthusiasm never ceases to amaze me!

Chapter 14

Summary: Rhys brings Feyre to Velaris after saving her from Tamlin's prison in the Spring Court. His inner circle crashes their brief landing in Rhys's townhouse, sending Feyre upstairs. Downstairs, Rhys chats with his family and learns about another temple raid from Azriel.

You Are Safe Here

"Welcome to my home.”

It was a damned miracle to watch Feyre survey my townhouse, the most private space I occupied. And here she was suddenly inside it.

The moment was so surreal, that I had to lean against the oak threshold separating us from the sitting room to keep myself steady. Feyre, despite what I could tell was a decent amount of surprise at where she’d landed and a considerable amount of concern for what she might find beyond these walls, didn’t miss a single detail. From the plush fabrics lining the furniture to the woven carpets and open windows, to worn bookcases and soft sounds from outside, she saw it all.

And I wondered if some part of her registered that she was really seeing a glimpse of me.

The palace she had spent two weeks in miles and miles away was easily representative of one half of me - the calculating, regal half that delighted in luxury without apology. But that portion was also who I was as a diplomat, the High Lord.

Here, I was home.

And she was still apprehensive.

“What is this place?” she asked and she sounded almost disbelieving, like any moment she might wake up.

“This is my house. Well, I have two homes in the city. One is for more... official business, but this is only for me and my family.”

Feyre kept a sharp eye as her gaze flicked immediately away from me and stared down the hallway behind her questioning. The house replied with a warm, open silence - an invitation of sorts.

“Nuala and Cerridwen are here,” I said. “But other than that, it’ll just be the two of us.”

I waited for her to say something, but her biting commentary never came. Mercifully, it wasn’t the silence I’d come to expect that cried out hatred upon my back when I left the room or slashed at my soul with cuts and sneers to keep me out. Feyre was simply frozen in time and space as she stilled to look at the walls. I only hoped it was more from shock than any actual discomfort. Being here - I needed her to be okay with it, with even just this one small part of me, the most honest and normal portion there was. And also, the most human - the most like her.

Too long a stretch of silence passed. I took a careful step towards her, ready to explain further, when a shock of sound slammed into the fogged glass of the atrium door that led outside. I didn’t have to look to know who was behind it.

“Hurry up, you lazy ass,” Cassian barked behind the glass. Feyre’s head whizzed to the sound. She looked exhausted just by the very idea she might have another guest to deal with let alone two more. I knew for Cassian to be here this early, he wouldn’t be alone.

“Two things, Feyre darling,” I said, interrupted by another pounding.

“If you’re going to pick a fight with him, do it after breakfast.”

Azriel.

Feyre’s brow peaked as if she could feel the shadows that cocooned my brother day and night even with a door between them. Knowing Azriel, he was likely experiencing something similar himself thanks to his smokey friends.

“I wasn’t the one who hauled me out of bed just now to fly down here,” Cassian said tartly before sneering at Az, “Busybody.”

The exchange was so brief, and yet, when Feyre slid her gaze to me at the end of it, it was hard not to laugh - to smile. Even if only a little bit.

The reality of the moment hit me then in full force. Feyre was little more than a handful of steps away from my brothers, my family, my city - people and places I thought she would never see except maybe on a battlefield or in a court room with sentinels from an entirely different court at her side.

And yet, here we were. Cassian complaining about being dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour like I knew he would, Azriel dutifully pushing him here to do it. And Feyre hadn’t even met them yet but she was so close to seeing them, seeing it all.

The thought made me rather... giddy inside.

But she was tired. The hollows under her eyes were a deepening purple and her shoulders sagged at her sides so that her back and neck slumped. One would have thought she’d never slept a day in her life, never mind the hours she’d spent in bed only thirty minutes ago.

“One,” I said, making sure to shirk off the smile threatening to break free so she could understand that she needn’t worry here, “no one - no one - but Mor and I are able to winnow directly inside this house. It is warded, shielded, and then warded some more. Only those I wish - and you wish - may enter. You are safe here; and safe anywhere in this city, for that matter. Velaris’s walls are well protected and have not been breached in five thousand years. No one with ill intent enters this city unless I allow it. So go where you wish, do what you wish, and see who you wish.”

Another pounding sounded at the door and again, it was an effort not to give in to Cassian’s inexhaustible ability to dig at me.

“Those two in the antechamber,” I continued, ready for the snide remark sure to follow, “might not be on that list of people you should bother knowing, if they keep banging on the door like children.”

I didn’t bother lowering my voice so they wouldn’t hear me outside, but I hadn’t raised it either, and all the same, Cassian still pounded relentlessly on the door and added, “You know we can hear you, prick.”

A little thrill went up my spine that I stood solidly firm over to hide it. They were so close - both halves of my life. So, so unbearably close that the anticipation of it was just as much a nuisance to lock down as a happiness to feel.

“Secondly,” I said casually, with just enough emphasis to piss Cass off and with any luck earn a long suffering sigh from Azriel, “in regard to the two bastards at my door, it’s up to you whether you want to meet them now, or head upstairs like a wise person, take a nap since you’re still looking a little peaky, and then change into city-appropriate clothing while I beat the hell out of one of them for talking to his High Lord like that.”

Feyre looked at me in bewilderment. Her shields were in perfect tact. I didn’t want to rifle through her head for every little emotion and thought, not at the cost of her personal space. But I would have been lying if I’d said it would not have been nice for this to have been one of those beautiful moments where she let me in on her mind’s turbulent seas to understand her better. What I would have given to know what she was thinking just then and here I was too scared out of my mind to ask while I waited for a decision, even as the adrenaline begged me to...

Her face appeared easy at first, some of those muscles in her tired body relaxed as she surveyed my face in a way I’d never seen from her before. And then it fell, miserably low and I thought she might yawn or fall over on the spot.

“Just come get me when they’re gone,” she finally said. It was an effort not to let my disappointment show. Part of me wanted everyone I loved to meet then and there and be done with it, but her peace was more important.

Then again, that peace might never be possible if Feyre found my family wasn’t one she could be a part of, if she found them too -

“You Illyrians are worse than cats yowling to be let in the back door.” Amren’s razor thin voice cut the silence between Feyre and I sharply. I heard the handle of the door jingle harshly as she tried it. “Really, Rhysand? You locked us out?”

Whatever was in Amren’s tone today was not one Feyre was ready to face apparently because she immediately dismissed herself without another word and made for the stairs where I knew Nuala and Cerridwen would be waiting to intercept her. I listened for her footsteps, waiting until she was well out of the danger zone, before I opened the door and my entryway was flooded by my hulking brothers and the short, blunt woman who somehow outsized them both.

Cassian clapped me on the back, shaking the chill off of him as he strode past me towards the warmer air. “Welcome home, bastard,” he said by way of greeting. “I sensed you were back. Mor filled me in, but I-”

Amren stepped directly into my path, cutting Cassian off with an annoyed glare. “Send your dogs out in the yard to play, Rhysand. You and I have matters to discuss.”

But while her displeasure had been directed at Cassian, it was Azriel who replied with that cold, deadly insistence, the only one who dared go toe-to-toe with Amren for my attention. When it came to political matters, at least.

“As do I,” Azriel said and there was no mistaking his meaning. Amren didn’t so much as move.

“We were here first,” Cassian said, much more casually than Az. “Wait your turn, Tiny Ancient One.”

Okay, maybe Azriel wasn’t the only one willing to play with Amren. The snarl that ripped from between her sharp teeth was low, but perfectly clear.

Mor startled me when she rounded the corner from the kitchen, a steaming cup of tea between her hands and wearing a lazy set of loose pants and a sweater that said she could have just woken up. I wondered whether she’d stayed the night here after forewarning Azriel of the last day’s events or if she’d met him this morning and winnowed in without bothering to change.

“Why is everyone here so early?” She said, still sleepy. “I thought we were meeting tonight at the House.”

Everyone stared at me waiting and for a second, seeing my house full of people with nothing but complaint while Feyre went through her own mini-hell adjusting upstairs was tiresome. “Trust me, there’s no party. Only a massacre, if Cassian doesn’t shut his mouth.”

Cass blew me off. “We’re hungry. Feed us. Someone told me there’d be breakfast.”

Az’s lips gave a tug as he chose a plush backless seat to lean over, ready as ever to get straight to business.

“Pathetic,” Amren said. Never one to be outdone, she took her own seat across from the shadowsinger. “You idiots are pathetic.”

“We know that’s true. But is there food?” Mor flashed that insatiable grin of hers that won the hearts of men and women up and down Prythian, but Cass cut across her with a derisive snort.

“You’re the one who just came from the kitchen,” he said.

“That was for tea,” she said raising her mug and shaking it faintly in his direction. “And you know I don’t cook.”

“Can’t cook, you mean,” Azriel said. Their eyes met across the room and held some kind of quiet, teasing exchange the rest of us were never privy to.

When the shadows informed him that Mor’s eyes weren’t the only attention he held, Azriel cleared his throat and spoke in that cool stoicism of his. “So what’s the plan?”

“Hold on, hold on,” Cassian said. “I’d like to know what prompted these oncoming plans before we actually get in to them. Some of us don’t have shadows and personal secretaries to inform us of every little movement Rhys makes.” He gestured between Azriel and Mor. It was Mor who replied.

“Some of us,” she said, staring pointedly at Cassian, “need to learn the value of minding their own business and a little patience. And I thought we were eating first?”

“By the Cauldron,” I said, snapping my fingers. The coffee table filled with fruit and muffins. Mor squealed, reaching for her preferred chocolate muffins, Cassian not far behind taking a fat pomegranate, their conflict temporarily forgotten. Amren eyed the food with clear disdain.

“Miserable though this is,” Amren said, “I too would like a full account of recent events and the plans to follow.” Amren gave me half a heartbeat before her eyes lifted slowly to the ceiling above us where Feyre undoubtedly stayed, hopefully fast asleep between the fresh sheets of her new bed.

Everyone followed suit and I sank in to a chair, taking a nut muffin for myself with a few bites, and then let the incident in the Spring Court unfold.

“So she stays here from now on,” Azriel asked. I nodded. “And you’re content to trust her with the knowledge of this city - with Velaris?”

“Obviously,” I said. “She’s here, isn’t she.”

“You know what I mean, Rhys.”

“Azriel isn’t wrong,” Amren said. “This is a considerable step, Rhysand.”

“One that hasn’t been weighed without a great deal of consideration, Amren,” I replied and she eyed me stonily. I didn’t appreciate the full use of my name.

Though I’d only taken a handful of seconds before acquiescing to Feyre’s request to join me here, there had never been a doubt in my mind that she could handle keeping this secret or even that she would if she chose to assume the burden of it. I trusted my mate with that secret - and so much more, really.

“Feyre is now in a period of transition,” I went on. “She has survived a great deal in her return to the Spring Court alone and it has cost her almost everything. For that and because of certain... understandings with her, she is to be afforded the rights of this court until such a time comes where she chooses to no longer be apart of it. And even then, her word is good that she will not betray us.” Azriel’s shadows tightened tensely around his body as if searching for the validity of my statement. “None of you have reason to doubt me on this.”

I didn’t need to add that that was final. “And now?” Azriel asked.

“You’ll meet her tonight and have your fun, and then tomorrow we work. So long as Feyre resides in Velaris, we know she is safe. But if she should leave this city, Tamlin is bound to have every sentinel and guard in his court trying to find her whether she wants it or not. And not just Tamlin.”

Mor shuddered and swallowed the bite of fruit she’d been chewing. “You think others will be looking for her? Our enemies?”

“And Tamlin’s.”

“Because of-”

“Amarantha? Yes. Anyone who sided with her and managed to get out of that mountain alive will almost undoubtedly be looking for her.” My mind flicked through the suspects, from the Attor to creatures of a much darker sort. “If they’ve allied with Hybern, then it’s almost a guarantee. Tamlin might be foolish enough to think no one will suspect Feyre of being more than just another High Fae noble, but I am not.”

“You think she is more than what she appears?” Cassian asked, genuinely intrigued - enough to stop chewing, at least.

“I already know she is, and will discuss it another time. For now...” I looked at Azriel. He had information, but his eyes narrowed, the shadows flickering over his face in a haze that told me to wait. “For now, eat your food and make my life a living hell like you always do.”

Cassian huffed a laugh and swiped another piece of fruit off the table, this time an orange. He threw a blueberry that stuck in Mor’s hair and I thought she might light his leathers on fire.

They stayed for most of the morning. For the most part, we chatted about strategies for keeping Feyre safe from the enemies who might try and snatch her if the time came for her to leave while at the same time scheming how to use that to our advantage if it was Hybern or one of his cronies behind any attacks. And then there was general conversation about the war itself, the Illyrian war-bands constantly harping at me from the North, the temples, Tamlin...

It was exhausting. As excited as I’d been having them arrive and share the same roof as my mate, part of me would rather have joined Feyre upstairs and taken a good, long nap away from the endless chatter about subjects hell bent on killing me.

Amren pulled me aside onto the outdoor patio midway through the discussion to give her own private report. She left as soon as it was over and Azriel took her place.

“Any news yet?” I asked. Azriel didn’t have to ask what I meant as he eyed the balcony to Feyre’s room just above us.

“Nothing,” he said. “Tamlin put the entire court on lock down almost as soon as he realized Feyre was missing. The gap was open for a short time and likely only because he wasn’t home when Mor got her out. I’m not sure he realized right away what had happened.”

“His wards are weak - even for him.” Something that was deeply unsettling. For a High Lord intent on protecting what was owed to him, he sure missed one hell of a show from Feyre for all her trouble should have alerted him to what was happening in his own home. An explosion like that... he should have met Mor and I at the gates.

“Keep an eye on the court,” I said. “Go back tomorrow yourself and see if you can’t get anything out of it. She’s only been here a day and Tamlin’s not going to let this go even if Feyre shows up and puts a knife in his heart herself.”

Azriel nodded. A cruel shadow twisted off his lips as if it spoke the order itself to whatever eyes and ears awaited him tomorrow in the Spring Court - that they should be watching. Azriel didn’t move.

“Spit it out,” I said.

“It’s happened again,” he said with that cold, unyielding blade of a voice he had.

I sighed. “Tell me.”

And I already knew what was coming.

His face cracked just the slightest, knowing the blow he was about to deal.

“There’s been another attack. Same as the rest - priestesses slain, the place ransacked, and something missing even if it’s not apparent what.”

Relentless, icy rage glittered in my veins. Had I not wanted to leave Feyre to possibly meet my little entourage for the first time alone, I would have shot straight up into the skies and flown until sundown.

“Where?” I asked instead.

But just as before, I already knew the answer. Knew the doom it spelt. Knew that another clue to the riddle I suspected I’d already solved was coming.

Azriel’s lips tightened into a hard line before he answered, his eyes cold and screaming with the same rage I felt.

“The Temple at Sangravah.”

Cesere...

Sangravah...

And countless others.

My mind flashed to the war room I’d shown Feyre, and the maps strewn with marks and figures.

War was coming.

Thanks for reading, folks! Hit the links up top to continue reading the next chapter.

[feyre-archerons-scrapbook]

Broken Wings & Mended Hearts - Chapter 8

A Nesta x Cassian Fic (Nesta’s POV) Chapter 8/?

Finally a new chapter of my Nessian fanfic. Plenty of good stuff (I think).

This story takes place after the events of ACOMAF, and revolves around probably my favourite pairing; Cassian, my beautiful Illyrian warrior, and Nesta, now High Fae herself.

Previously: Cassian had got into a fight with Azriel about who should train the Archeron sisters, and the last we saw, Nesta and Cassian were standing in the gymnasium, pouring tier hearts out to each other. Hope you enjoy this continuation.

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Find me on AO3

My bottom lip quivered. Cassian’s heart thumped against his chest, and, as if it were calling to me, mine immediately did the same. I gulped and whispered, “I’m sorry I pushed you away at the meeting.”

He looked at me. He looked through me. “I’m not.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“Because if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had a week of this searing pain in my heart, in my head. I forgot about my injuries, I was just so…consumed with missing you.” His eyes swept across my face, as if he were trying to memorise every freckle, ever feature, just in case. “Being apart has made me realise just how much I want to be near you, Nesta.”

He stared at me, waiting for me to respond, and I didn’t take a moment to overthink it. A sudden surge of courage - or perhaps recklessness – welled up inside of me and propelled me forwards, my eyes falling closed as my lips crashed into his. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer as we both settled into the kiss. All thoughts of broken wings, of the cauldron and its cruelty, drifted away.

He drew his calloused hands up my back, brushing them against my bare shoulders and sliding them around to my face, warming them in the heat of my cheeks. He knew exactly what he was doing to me, and I felt him smile against me as I let out a faint moan. His lips were so soft; I could’ve stayed pressed against them for a hundred years.

My lips parted and immediately his did the same. Heavens above, it was incredible. My hands slipped up into his hair, making fists in the long, dark strands, and I realised that this was it; I had fallen completely and utterly for this man. His hands moved dangerously close to the thin strap of my dress, and I knew that if he ran his finger underneath it, if he moved it out of the way and let my dress fall, I wouldn’t stop him. If he wanted me right here, right now, I was all in.

His tongue flicked against mine, as he firmly ran his fingers down my arms and moved them back to my waist. I could almost smell the desire building up inside of him, pushing against him, yearning to be let out. But then he pulled his mouth away from mine, and dropped his head against the curve between my neck and shoulder. He breathed against my skin, and shivers ran the length of my body as my eyes flitted open.

“Nesta,” he whispered, before lifting his head to look at me. His chest rose and fell in short sharp bursts, like he’d just flown a thousand miles, and those beautiful hazel eyes…they were hungry.

“I…I think…” I stuttered, unable to think clearly, only just realising that I instigated the kiss. Me. “Should I not have -”

His eyes went wide, “No, no, no.” He placed his hands either side of my face again and kissed me softly, “You certainly should have, Nesta Archeron.” A smile spread across his face, and my body began shaking. “But we can’t go further…not here, not now.”

I pulled a face that must have looked like I was calling him a spoilsport, because that smile of his turned into a wicked grin, and before I had time to react other than to release a tiny screech of a laugh, he spread his wings, yanked me towards him, and kissed me with such deep, intense passion, I would’ve fallen down had he not held me so tightly.

My eyes flicked open. Someone was approaching the room. I pushed back, my entire body pulsing, and stepped away. We stared at each other, taking heavy breaths…ready to pounce.  

Cassian let out a low growl, but suddenly looked at the doorway to his left, folding his wings and settling back against the wall just as Rhysand and Azriel walked into the gym.

“Rhys,” Cassian said with a nod. “Az.”

His High Lord returned the gesture and looked at me. “Were we…interrupting something?”

Shit, he knows.

I gave both men a laid-back smile and lazily pushed my fingers through my hair, “No, not at all.”

Rhysand turned back to Cassian just in time to catch the wink he gave me. Prick.

“Are we in agreement, now? Azriel is to tra -”

“No,” I said assertively, as I turned and picked up a heavy wooden fighting stick. I felt the weight of it, the perfect balance of it. “I want Cassian to teach me how to fight, and that’s the end of it.” Azriel’s eyebrows shot up, and i could’ve sworn a surge of darkness swelled up around him. I threw the stick to Cassian, just for an excuse to watch those sculpted, tanned arms reach up to catch it. “See you first thing tomorrow morning,” I purred, and winked at him.

He laughed under his breath, and all that the three winged males could do was watch as I sauntered from the room, feeling more alive than I had ever done in my mortal life.

I awoke the next morning bright and early, sharing breakfast with my sister and Amren without much conversation, before we headed to the gymnasium for our first day of training.

Amren came up alongside me as we entered the room, and nudged me with her elbow. “Good luck today,” she whispered.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t break him.”

I halted in my tracks, ready to snap back that of course I would be mindful of his injuries, but the wicked smirk on her face made me realise that wasn’t what she was implying. I sniggered and rolled my eyes, “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She raised those black eyebrows at me as she walked backwards, then turned and meandered over to Rhysand, who was stood talking to Cassian and Azriel. Mor rushed over to me, approaching at the same time as Elain, and bid us both good morning.

“Are you ready?” she asked us. My sister and I nodded. “No injuries or concerns or anything at all?”

“Nope, none,” I said, ringing my hands.

“Excellent.”

Cassian leaned back slightly to peek out from behind Azriel, and flashed me a broad smile over Mor’s shoulder. My cheeks went bright red.

Elain inhaled a deep breath and asked, “So how will this work, then?”

“Well,” Mor said, moving to stand between us and turning round to face the room, “You will be trained by Azriel, and Nesta is to be trained by Cassian.”

“How can that happen?” my sister frowned, glancing at me, “He’s injured.”

Mor shrugged and huffed out a breath, “I have no idea…he managed to convince Rhys to let him do it, somehow.”

I willed my face to remain expressionless, when all I really wanted was to grin from ear to ear. I caught his eye again. My word, that face. There wasn’t a single mortal man who could come close to being as beautiful, as sculpted… As he returned to the conversation before him, I was sure he could sense me continuing to stare at him, because he ran his fingers slowly through his thick dark hair, and smirked. My knees went weak. Good grief, Nesta, pull yourself together.

“We should get ready,” I suddenly said, interrupting Mor, “Excuse us.” I grabbed my sister’s elbow and tugged her over to a set of thick, padded mats that were sprawled across the floor.

“What’s wrong,” Elain frowned, before glancing over her shoulder.

“Nothing, nothing. I just needed to get -”

“Away from Cassian’s stare?” she interrupted, eyebrow raised, arms folded. My face reddened again. “Something happen between you two?” My sweet sister was now grinning like a cat.

“No…erm, not really.” I looked away from her and gathered my hair up into a bun.

“Nesta…”

“Elain.” I secured my hair with a pin and faced her. We held each other’s stare for a moment, then burst into giggles. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed with her, and it was wonderful.

Cassian stood before me, his knees slightly bent, his wings spread, his torso peppered with cuts and bruises. His hands were slightly in front of him, and he snarled through his teeth. “Try it again.”

“No…” I replied, pressing the back of my bandage-wrapped hand against my lip. Bleeding, damn. “You very nearly screamed in pain, Cassian. This was a bad idea.”

“Again.” There wasn’t a hint of good humour or kindness in his words, his mannerisms. The kiss we’d shared yesterday seemed to have been forgotten entirely.

I shook my head and stood up straight, as I began unfurling the bandages and clenching and unclenching my fist. Light bruises snaked around my knuckles, but no pain. And we’d been at this for two hours.

“Ignore my injuries, Nesta.”

“I shouldn’t have asked you…no, told you to train me.” I glanced over at Elain and Azriel, who looked to be making swift progress. “I’m sorry about that.”

Cassian relaxed his stance and pressed a palm against his forehead. “I am fine; why won’t you believe me?”

“Why won’t..?” I huffed and marched towards him, pressing my hand against his left wing. He had to fight to keep his knees locked as the pain rippled through him. I let go. “That’s why! And when I accidentally kicked your wing I got your elbow in my face!”

“I’m sorry about that. There’s always accidents in training.”

I scoffed and checked my lip again.

“Is it bad?”

“It’ll heal, and besides, it’s not like I can feel it.” He took a step towards me, but I backed away, again. Always backing away from him. “This was a mistake; I’ll ask -”

“Nesta, don’t.”

“Is there a problem?” Rhysand said as he approached the mat with that cool, dark air of mystery.

“No, everything’s fine, Rhys,” Cassian growled, his eyes locked on mine, his hands curling into fists of frustration, not rage.

“This isn’t working out, is it. Would you like to train with Azriel instead, Nesta? Give Cassian some time to heal, properly,” the High Lord asked, ignoring his friend. His brows were furrowed. This was no told you so look, thank goodness.

I looked to Cassian, his eyes pleading. My mind told me to say yes; I should let him rest and get better without the added strain of my uncontrollable limbs hitting his wings. And yet…

“Nesta?” Rhysand whispered, just loud enough to pull me back into the room.

Cassian shifted his weight, and dropped his head.

“No, thank you, Rhys,” I finally said. Cassian’s hands relaxed by his sides. “I think we’re done for today, but we’ll be back to it tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Rhysand smiled, as Cassian gave me a nod of appreciation. The High Lord of the Night Court turned to his general and began talking so quietly I couldn’t even begin to listen. I took that as my cue to leave.

I adjusted my hair and headed out, passing by Elain and Azriel as she kicked a pad in his hands with quiet ferocity. I smiled at her, watching as Azriel gave her a pat on the shoulder. Well done, little sister. Maybe she would be a good fighter, after all. Better than me, I would wager.

I didn’t see Cassian again for the rest of the day, choosing instead to lounge in my room, reading a book that Mor had given me earlier that week; Life After Living. It was written by someone who had been mortal, then made in the cauldron, and it was fascinating. As I devoured the pages, I came to the conclusion that Amren had probably written this book a thousand years ago, and the thought made me chuckle.

The night was cool, a delicate breeze wafting in through the open windows, carrying with it a scent of salt and pine.

A flash of bare skin swept across my vision.

Huh?

Heavy breathing, in sync with another’s as hands caressed a face, a chest. The figure before me was cast in shadow, the light from the open windows behind silhouetting them as soft moans echoed around the room. Hands slid up their sides, coming to rest on their waist.

My waist.

What in heavens?

A strip of light brushed across my features as I leaned forwards to kiss…

“What the..?” I gasped into the air as I shot bolt upright in bed. My mouth gaped and I looked either side of my king-size bed. Empty. Of course it was empty. I glanced down. Button down silk pyjamas.

I shook my head and flung the covers back, planting my feet firmly on the cool tiles of the darkened room. My heart pounded, and all I could see was…myself? What the hell??

Who…what…how?

I toyed with the idea of running to Amren’s room, or even Rhysand’s to tell them what I’d seen, what I’d felt…but then a wave of embarrassment swept over me and I returned to the warmth of my bed, and laid with my eyes wide open for goodness knows how long, just staring up at the night sky painted on the ceiling.

Cassian…it must’ve been Cassian that I was with.

It damn well better be.

Eventually, I forced myself to close my eyes, all the while praying to whatever god or goddess I was supposed to pray to now, in the hope that I wouldn’t have that dream again.