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isnotwhatyourethinking · 6 months ago

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The Warrior & The Healer - Chapter 1 Cassian x Winter Court Healer Reader

Summary: Y/n's healing powers are unparalleled, a gift from the Mother that she wields with precision and care. Sent to Velaris under the guise of a diplomatic mission, Y/n is secretly bound by a darker duty—spying for the Winter Court's ruthless war general, Isarn, to protect her imprisoned mother. But as she works to heal the wounds inflicted by Hybern, a chance encounter with a certain Illyrian warrior changes everything.

Word Count: 2,348.

Author's Note: hi y'all! I'm nati and this is my very first fanfic, I'm open to suggestions but pls be kind, english is not my first language. I might be making this into a series but I'm not sure yet, I hope you like it nonetheless! also this is somewhat inspired by Heal Me by Lady Gaga heheheh

Warnings: good ole angsty plot for now, nothing else I can think of.

The chill of the Winter Court still clung to my bones as I stood on the balcony of the House of Wind. Despite the sun’s gentle warmth, I couldn't shake the frost that lingered in my veins. The Night Court's capital lay below, a city I had yet to fully explore, but even from this vantage point, its beauty was undeniable. Whispers of the recent attack by the Attor hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the flickering lights.

Adjusting my cloak, I subconsciously made sure the insignia of the Winter Court remained hidden. My mission was secretive; even Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, had sworn to keep my presence under wraps. As the Winter Court’s most powerful healer, my talents were needed now more than ever. The Hybern King’s cruelty had left deep scars on Velaris, and I had vowed to mend as many as I could.

My steps quickened in an attempt to warm up as I moved away from the edge of the balcony. The crimson structure loomed above me, imposing yet elegant, a testament to the power and grace of the Night Court. At the entrance to the hallway stood a tall figure wrapped in fleeting darkness, waiting.

The famed Shadowsinger.

His piercing hazel eyes assessed me with a quiet intensity.

"Y/N of the Winter Court, I presume?" His voice was smooth, almost soothing.

Shit. Spymaster. I nodded curtly, trying not to think of the cold sweat dripping down my back.

"Yes. I am here to assist with the healing of Velaris' citizens."

He stepped aside, one hand on his back, motioning for me to enter. "I’m Azriel. We've been expecting you. Rhysand and Feyre will see you shortly."

The House of Wind was even more magnificent inside, a careful blend of wealth and strength. But I didn't allow myself to be distracted. I followed Azriel down a corridor, my gaze forward, my expression impassive.

"You'll find the Night Court different from what you've heard," Azriel said quietly, glancing at me.

I raised an eyebrow, mentally recalling the rumors of cruelty and violence. "I doubt that."

I could’ve sworn I saw his lips curving upwards. "We'll see."

We arrived at a large, intricately carved door. Azriel knocked once before opening it, revealing a spacious office where Rhysand and Feyre awaited. The High Lord of the Night Court and the Cursebreaker stood behind a grand desk, their powerful presence commanding yet welcoming. My heart is pounding with panic, but my mental shields remain intact.

I was trained for this moment, I remind myself.

"Y/N, welcome to the Night Court," Rhysand said smoothly, his violet eyes locking onto mine. "We appreciate your willingness to help our people."

I inclined my head slightly. "I am here to fulfill my duty."

Feyre offered a warm smile, her eyes kind. "We’re grateful, nonetheless. We've arranged for you to have a designated area in the city for your work. Think of it as a sanctuary, a place of healing."

Rhysand nodded. "You'll have everything you need. We want to ensure you're comfortable and able to do your best work."

Before I could respond, the door opened again, and a gorgeous blonde strutted in, her golden hair gleaming in the light.

"Y/N, this is Mor. She'll show you around and take you to your quarters."

"Welcome," Mor said warmly, extending a hand. "Shall we?"

I shook her hand briefly, nodding. "Lead the way."

As we walked through the House of Wind, Mor chatted easily, pointing out various rooms and features. Despite my initial reservations, I found myself drawn to her easygoing nature and genuine kindness. Definitely not the welcome I expected from The Morrigan.

"How have you found Velaris so far?" she asked as we paused by a large window, its view of the city breathtaking.

"It's... different from what I expected," I admitted, keeping my tone neutral.

Mor's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Different good, or different bad?"

"Different," I repeated, not committing to either.

She laughed softly. "You'll see, Y/N. The Night Court is more than just the rumors."

So I’ve heard.

We continued our walk as I couldn't help but feel a small flicker of hope. This mission could be your saving grace. Mother help me, I prayed, unsure of referring to the one above or your own.

Mor led me to a spacious room with a stunning view of Velaris. I couldn't take my eyes out of the window as she said "take your time to settle in. I'll give you a tour of the city tomorrow."

I nodded mindlessly while I offered a reserved, polite smile. "Thank you, Mor."

Left alone in my quarters, I finally allowed myself to breathe. I sigh with relief when I notice the fireplace turning on while I unpacked my few belongings, placing them carefully around the room. As I moved, my thoughts drifted back to the Winter Court, to the harsh, snow-laden lands where I had clawed my way to survival.

The frost in my veins was a constant reminder of the curse I carried, this relentless, icebound power. I paused, my fingers brushing over a simple stainless steel, snowflake-shaped pendant—a heirloom from my mother. A symbol of resilience.

I placed the pendant on a small table near the window, letting its tiny opal stones catch the last rays of the setting sun. My mother’s memory was a shadow that both comforted and haunted me. Isarn’s threats echoed in my mind, a stark reminder of my precarious position.

“You know what’s at stake here,” his screeching voice hissed in my memory, “We don’t want your bastard mother to suffer a terrible fate because you suddenly grew a conscience, do we?”

His words cut through me like a knife. Isarn, the barbaric General and Commander of Winter Court forces, knew how to exploit my deepest fears, how to manipulate me into doing his bidding. I clenched my fists, fighting the surge of ice-cold anger and helplessness that threatened to overwhelm me.

I had no choice but to obey, to pretend to be a loyal emissary while secretly feeding him information about the Night Court. Every interaction with Rhysand, Feyre, and their court was fraught with danger. And they had been kind and welcoming, unaware of the darkness that lurked within me.

I was preparing for bed, exhaustion weighed heavily on my shoulders, when doubt crept in. What if Isarn had misled me? What if the Night Court was not as he described? This house, their warm welcome, did not feel like the cruel Court he had painted: a land where violence and betrayal were commonplace. His words now felt deceitful, meant to justify my actions, to ease the guilt of backstabbing the High Lord of the Winter Court.

The thought of betraying their trust gnawed at me, but I had to protect what mattered to me the most at all costs.

I stared at the soft glow of my mother's pendant, a silent beacon of hope in the darkness. The pendant's opal stones shimmered, casting gentle reflections on the walls of my room. It reminded me of my mother's strength, her unwavering resilience in the face of hardship. She had taught me to trust my instincts, to see beyond the lies that surrounded me. Had I failed her…? No. I will not break now.

Eyes on the prize, Y/N.

With a heavy heart, I drifted into a restless sleep, haunted by Isarn's chilling words and the weight of my dishonorable duty.

Morning came too soon. The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. I woke with a start, the weight of my mission settling heavily on my chest.

I dressed quickly, donning the simple but elegant attire provided by the Night Court. The fabric was softer than anything I had worn before, a stark contrast to the thick, practical clothing of the Winter Court. As I secured the pewter cloak I had brought with me, I steeled myself for the day ahead.

Morrigan had promised to show me around the city, to familiarize me with the building assigned to assist the victims of the attack, and my new responsibilities. I had to play my part perfectly—no hesitation, no doubts. A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. I opened it to find Mor waiting, her expression warm and inviting.

“Good morning, Y/N,” she said, her voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. “Are you ready for your tour?”

I nodded, managing a small smile. Time to put the ice mask on. “Yes, I’m ready.”

When we arrived in the city, my heart sank. Velaris was a kaleidoscope of colors, with flowers blooming in every corner and the scent of fresh bread, jasmine and lemon verbena wafting through the air. It was a place of light and hope, so different from the bleakness of my homeland. Here, there was life, warmth, and a sense of belonging that I found both comforting and disconcerting.

Morrigan led me to a large building near the heart of the city. “This is where you’ll be working,” she explained. “It’s our primary healing center. We call it The Sanctuary.”

The name seemed fitting. The tall, white brick building exuded a sense of peace and safety, a haven for those in need. I followed Mor inside, taking in the bustling activity. Healers moved swiftly between patients, their hands glowing with magic as they mended wounds and eased pain.

“You’ll have everything you need here,” Mor continued, guiding me through the various rooms. “We’ve set up a private space for you to work, and you’ll have access to all our supplies.”

I listened with careful attention while I walked with her, trying to absorb it all. This was my new reality, it seems, and despite the deceit that had brought me here, I couldn’t deny the importance of the work. Healing was in my blood, a calling I could not ignore regardless of the task I was sent here for.

I took a deep breath, allowing the comforting hum of activity around me to steady my nerves.

Mor led me through the Sanctuary, introducing me to the various healers and staff members: they all greeted me warmly, their smiles open and genuine. I was struck by the sense of community, the way they worked together with a seamless efficiency that spoke of trust and camaraderie. I cursed Isarn under my breath.

Morrigan brought me back to reality when she gave my arm a reassuring squeeze before excusing herself to attend to other matters, asking me to meet the Cursebreaker at the loading dock. I bid her goodbye as I made my way to the back of the building, my nerves just about to get the best of me while I head towards the area where supplies were being delivered. The air was filled with the scent of fresh herbs and medicinal salves, a familiar and comforting aroma. As I inspected the crates and boxes, I heard a soft voice behind me.

“Y/N, it’s so good to have you here.” Feyre said with tired eyes.

I replied, bowing my head in respect, still unsure of how to address the High Lord's companion.

“It’s an honor to assist you, Lady Feyre.”

She smiled warmly. “Please, just Feyre. We’re all equals here. I’ve been overseeing the healing efforts, but I’m thrilled to have you join us. Your reputation precedes you.”

Her words caught me off guard, but I managed to maintain my composure. “Thank you, Feyre. I’m eager to start and do what I can to help.”

As we spoke, the sound of loud footsteps and the clinking of glass bottles announced the arrival of more supplies. Feyre turned toward the noise, her expression brightening. “Ah, here’s some extra help.”

A large figure appeared, carrying a massive load of boxes that obscured his face. He moved with a fluid grace that belied his size, setting the crates down with surprising gentleness. When he finally straightened, I was taken aback by the sheer presence of the male before me.

“Y/N, this is Cassian,” Feyre introduced him with a smile. “He’s our Illyrian War General, and a close friend.”

Cassian turned to face me, and I felt my knees almost failing me. He was stunning, with broad shoulders, dark hair, and piercing hazel eyes that seemed to see right through me. His handsome face was framed by a faint scruff, adding to his rugged appeal. His wings, powerful and majestic, were furled behind him, a testament to his warrior status.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” Cassian said, his voice a rich baritone that sent a shiver down my spine.

For a moment I forgot my mission, my deceit, and the weight of my duty. I was utterly mesmerized as the world around me faded, his overwhelming presence was a potent mix of strength and charm that left me speechless. I felt a warmth radiating from his body contrasting to the cold that had always been my companion.

A pull in my heart.

Feyre’s voice brought me back to reality. “Cassian often helps with the heavier supplies,” she winked at him, her tone light. “He’s indispensable around here.”

I cleared my throat, struggling to regain my composure. “It’s... nice to meet you, Cassian.”

He rolled his eyes at Feyre and grinned, a roguish smile that made my heart skip a beat. “The pleasure’s all mine.” I swear I feel his voice like a thunder, rumbling in my bones. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

As he moved to help with the rest of the supplies, I instinctively reached for a box at the same time, just as our hands brushed against each other, and I jerked back, my heart racing. I looked up, meeting Cassian’s hazel eyes, and caught a whiff of his scent—leather and cedar wood. The world seemed to tilt as something inside me snapped into place.

A golden thread wrapped around my heart, pulling tight.

Panic surged through me.

No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. Not now, not with him.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, all the emotions and thought I'd tried to keep at bay were coming to me like relentless waves: I was here to spy, to betray, to ultimately save my mother, and now, like a curse from the Cauldron itself, my mate happened to be right here in this Court, under these circumstances, standing right in front of me, completely oblivious to the turmoil inside.

I avoided his gaze, tears pricking my eyes while I feel my ice mask on the brink of cracking.

I was fucked.

Chapter 2

dividers by @estrelinha-s