#I also love how she doesn’t get involved and lets nesta handle it all

[legendl0re]

This? Absolute fire *chefs kiss*

The fire crackled warmly in the hearth of the River House as Feyre paced the sitting room, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. The Inner Circle sat scattered across the plush sofas and chairs, their expressions ranging from curious to downright skeptical as she relayed the news. Feyre’s hands twisted together, a nervous habit she hadn’t indulged in for years, but Nesta had that effect on her.

“She accepted?” Amren finally broke the silence, her silver eyes narrowing as she leaned back in her seat, swirling a glass of blood-red wine. “Nesta Archeron, the Queen of Isolation herself, is coming to Solstice?”

Feyre nodded, her lips twitching into a tentative smile. “Not only is she coming, but she asked if she could bring someone.” She hesitated before adding, “I told her yes, of course. I didn’t want to make her feel… unwelcome.”

Rhysand, sprawled lazily in an armchair with an air of casual authority, arched a dark brow. “And you didn’t think to ask who this someone might be?”

Feyre shot him a look. “I was too stunned she said yes at all. I wasn’t about to interrogate her, Rhys.”

Cassian, who had been unusually quiet, sat forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. His hazel eyes glimmered with a mix of hope and trepidation. “She’s bringing someone? Like… a friend? Or…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

“Maybe she’s found someone she actually likes,” Mor interjected with a sharp smile, though her tone carried an edge of disbelief. “That would be a Solstice miracle.”

Azriel remained silent, his shadowed gaze flicking between Feyre and Cassian, but his jaw clenched slightly, as if bracing for something unpleasant.

“It doesn’t matter who she’s bringing,” Feyre said, her voice firmer now. “What matters is that she’s coming. She’s choosing to be here. After everything…” Her throat tightened briefly, but she pushed on. “This is a step forward. For all of us.”

Amren snorted softly, setting her glass down with a delicate clink. “Or it’s just Nesta being unpredictable as always. Who knows what her angle is?”

“She doesn’t need an angle,” Feyre snapped, surprising herself with the force of her own words. “She’s my sister. I invited her because I want her here, not because I expect anything from her.”

Rhysand reached out, brushing a calming hand along her arm, his violet eyes softening. “No one is saying otherwise, Feyre. But you can’t deny it’s… unexpected.”

“It’s more than unexpected,” Mor muttered, crossing her legs and leaning back against the cushions. “It’s suspicious.”

Cassian’s gaze darkened, and he turned to Mor, his voice low. “She doesn’t owe us anything, Mor. Least of all your approval.”

An awkward silence fell over the room, and Feyre took a deep breath, centering herself. “Whatever her reasons, she’s coming. And we’re going to welcome her, like family should.” She glanced at each of them, daring them to challenge her. “That includes whoever she chooses to bring.”

The conversation drifted into quieter speculation after that, but Feyre remained by the fire, staring into the flickering flames, trying to suppress the nervous flutter in her chest. Nesta was coming. For the first time in years, her sister was coming back into their orbit—not for an argument, not out of obligation, but because she’d chosen to.

She clung to that sliver of hope like a lifeline, unwilling to let it slip away.

The silence that filled the room after Feyre’s announcement felt heavy, as if each member of the Inner Circle was lost in their own tangled web of thoughts about Nesta. It had been nearly a year since the last Solstice, when everything had come to a head, and the aftermath had left deep, jagged rifts between them all.

Nesta had stormed out that night—her words sharp, her tone colder than the snow that blanketed Velaris. In the weeks that followed, she’d stopped opening the tabs she’d once so freely placed on Rhysand’s account, a quiet but unmistakable declaration of her independence. The refusal had stung Feyre, though she couldn’t quite put into words why. Perhaps it was the finality of it, the way it marked a line between them that Nesta had no interest in crossing again.

“She’s changed,” Feyre said softly, breaking the silence. “You all know it.”

“She stopped drinking herself into oblivion, sure,” Cassian muttered, his voice low, his hazel eyes shadowed. “But it’s not like she kept us in the loop about anything else. She just… left.”

“She distanced herself,” Mor corrected, her voice clipped. “Not that it was a huge loss. She’s barely spoken to any of us since.”

Feyre flinched at the bitterness in Mor’s tone but didn’t argue. Mor wasn’t wrong. After Nesta had left the Inner Circle’s orbit, she hadn’t looked back. Letters had been the only form of communication—and even those had been sparse and stilted, only coming when someone else initiated the conversation. Feyre had written her often, clinging to the hope that Nesta would eventually reply with more than perfunctory sentences. Occasionally, she did. But it wasn’t the same.

“She moved out of that awful apartment,” Feyre said, a tinge of relief in her voice. “She found a job, started to rebuild… on her terms.”

“Good for her,” Amren said dryly, though her gaze flicked toward Cassian, as if gauging his reaction. “But the cost was cutting all of us off. You’d think one of her priorities might have been mending those bridges.”

“It’s not that simple,” Feyre said, her voice sharper now. “You all know how things were before. Nesta didn’t feel welcome. She didn’t feel… wanted.”

“Because she didn’t let anyone in,” Mor snapped. “She shut us out long before we gave up trying.”

“That doesn’t mean we were right to stop,” Feyre shot back.

Cassian stood abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “Enough.” His voice was gruff, strained. “Nesta did what she had to do. Maybe it wasn’t pretty, and maybe it wasn’t what any of us wanted, but she’s alive. She’s trying. And that’s more than most of us can say for her a year ago.”

Feyre’s heart ached at the truth of those words. She remembered the haunted, hollow look in Nesta’s eyes during her lowest moments, the nights Feyre had spent wondering if her sister would simply vanish into the void of her own despair.

Now, though, there was something different. In the rare moments Feyre had seen her, Nesta seemed more at ease, steadier. She no longer carried the same brittle anger like a shield. Still, the distance between them had grown into a chasm, and Feyre didn’t know how to bridge it.

“She’s coming to Solstice,” Feyre said again, more firmly this time. “She’s taking a step toward us. We owe it to her—and to ourselves—to meet her halfway.”

The room fell silent again, but this time it felt less oppressive, as if the weight of Nesta’s absence was finally beginning to lift. Even if it was just a sliver of light breaking through the cracks, Feyre clung to it.

The silence that followed Feyre’s words was as heavy as it was unyielding. No one argued, no one even shifted in their seats. It was the kind of silence that pressed down on Feyre’s chest, filling the room with the unspoken weight of everything left unresolved between Nesta and the Inner Circle.

Elain, ever the peacekeeper, appeared at just the right moment, her soft steps barely making a sound as she entered the sitting room. She carried a tray of cookies, their golden edges gleaming, the faint scent of cinnamon and cloves trailing after her. Her warm, practiced smile faltered as she glanced around the room and noticed the tension.

“Elain,” Feyre started, but before she could say more, there was a sharp, deliberate knock at the door.

The sound cut through the quiet like a blade, startling everyone. Elain froze mid-step, her eyes flicking to Feyre, the tray trembling ever so slightly in her hands.

No one moved at first. They all seemed rooted in place, as if reluctant to acknowledge what the knock meant. Feyre felt her pulse quicken. Nesta had arrived—and early, no less.

“I’ll get it,” Feyre said, her voice firmer than she felt as she stood, smoothing her hands down her sweater.

No one stopped her, though she could feel their eyes on her as she crossed the room. Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his face unreadable, while Cassian stared at the floor, his jaw tight. Azriel’s shadows curled faintly at his shoulders, and Mor crossed her arms, her expression blank but tense. Even Amren tilted her head slightly, as if listening for some hidden truth in the knock.

Feyre opened the door, her breath catching when she saw Nesta standing there. She looked different—not in the obvious ways, but in the subtleties: her posture straighter, her face calm, but without the guarded steel that had once made her seem untouchable.

“Nesta,” Feyre said softly, relief blooming in her chest. Her eyes flicked to the person standing just behind her sister, bundled in a heavy coat with a hood shadowing their face. “And you must be…?”

Nesta stepped inside without answering immediately, her gaze sweeping across the room before settling on Feyre. “Thank you for inviting me.” Her voice was steady, though her fingers tightened around the strap of the bag slung over her shoulder. She turned slightly, gesturing to the figure at her side. “This is Taryn.”

The hooded figure stepped forward and lowered their hood, revealing a sharp-featured, dark-haired woman with piercing eyes. She inclined her head in a polite nod, though her expression was unreadable.

Feyre managed a smile, even as the weight of the room shifted behind her. “Welcome,” she said, stepping aside to let them in.

The room’s tension grew as Nesta and Taryn entered, the warmth of the fire seemingly unable to dispel the chill that followed them. Feyre glanced back at the others, her resolve firm. This was going to work. It had to.

Feyre stepped aside, watching as Nesta and the woman—Taryn—stepped into the house. The warmth of the firelight illuminated them both, and it was then Feyre noticed the bags slung over their shoulders. Nesta’s was a small, simple satchel, while Taryn carried a larger bag that looked heavier.

Her gaze flicked to the bags, curiosity stirring. “Are those…” Feyre hesitated, not sure how to phrase it without sounding too eager. “Are those presents?”

Nesta’s stormy blue eyes met hers, unreadable for a moment. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, she answered, “Yes.”

Feyre’s breath hitched in surprise. Nesta—Nesta, who had barely even attended Solstice last year and had left before the sun had fully set—had brought gifts. Feyre swallowed the lump rising in her throat and tried to smile, though her chest felt tight with emotion.

“Let me take your coats,” she said, her voice soft.

Nesta and Taryn obliged, shrugging out of their heavy winter cloaks and handing them to Feyre. For a moment, Feyre’s hand brushed against Nesta’s, and it struck her how steady her sister felt—no tremble, no hesitation. A quiet strength radiated from her, and Feyre’s heart ached with both pride and longing for the bond they’d once shared.

As Nesta handed her bag to Taryn to carry into the sitting room, Feyre couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Did you pick them out yourself?”

Nesta’s lips twitched, a faint flicker of amusement crossing her face. “Of course I did.”

The answer was so matter-of-fact, so… Nesta, that Feyre couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped her. “Well,” she said, stepping back to allow them further inside, “I’m sure everyone will be thrilled.”

From behind her, the room had gone silent again, the Inner Circle still frozen in a mix of shock and discomfort. But Feyre pushed aside the tension and turned to lead the way. For now, she would focus on this small miracle: Nesta was here, and she had brought gifts. Perhaps that meant there was hope after all.

As Feyre turned to lead Nesta and Taryn further into the room, it was Elain who finally broke the silence. Her soft, melodic voice cut through the awkward tension with surprising ease.

“It’s wonderful you came, Nesta,” Elain said, setting down the tray of cookies on the low table in the center of the sitting room. Her warm, genuine smile brightened the room in a way that only Elain could.

Nesta’s gaze flicked to her younger sister, and though her expression didn’t change, Feyre noticed the faintest softening in her sharp features.

Elain’s eyes moved to Taryn, taking in the woman with polite curiosity. “And you even brought a friend,” she added, her tone light and welcoming.

Taryn, standing quietly beside Nesta, inclined her head. “Taryn,” she introduced herself simply, her voice cool but not unfriendly.

Elain’s smile widened, and she gestured toward the chairs by the fire. “It’s lovely to meet you, Taryn. Please, both of you, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll get more tea.”

Nesta gave Elain a small, almost reluctant nod of thanks before stepping further into the room. Taryn followed closely, her movements deliberate and composed, as though she were ready to leave at any moment if the atmosphere soured.

Feyre’s chest tightened as she glanced between them, grateful for Elain’s efforts to ease the tension but painfully aware of how stiff and silent the rest of the Inner Circle remained. It was a fragile moment, one that could shatter with a single wrong word, but Feyre clung to the hope that Elain’s warmth might be enough to hold it together.

Elain paused in the doorway before disappearing to fetch tea, her gentle voice trailing behind her. “It really is wonderful to have you here, Nesta. Both of you.”

For a fleeting second, Feyre thought she saw something flicker in Nesta’s eyes—gratitude, perhaps, or maybe just relief. It was hard to tell, but Feyre held onto that moment like a lifeline. Small steps, she reminded herself. Small steps forward.

Feyre led Nesta and Taryn into the sitting room, the warmth of the fire contrasting sharply with the tension that hung in the air. The silence from the others was deafening, broken only by the crackling of the hearth. Still, Feyre kept her posture steady, determined to ease them into this fragile reunion.

“Here,” Feyre said gently, gesturing to the open space near the large, decorated table where the others had already placed their gifts. Nesta and Taryn followed her lead, setting their bags down with quiet precision.

As they straightened, Feyre’s gaze flicked to Nesta. She looked… different. Better. Healthier. The sharpness in her face had softened, replaced by a glow that hadn’t been there the last time Feyre had seen her. Her cheeks were fuller, her skin had a healthy flush, and her silver-blue eyes were clear, unclouded by the weight she used to carry. Even the way she stood—back straight, shoulders square—spoke of someone who had found stability.

Feyre felt a pang of emotion, a mixture of pride and longing, as she realized how much more beautiful Nesta looked like this. Not just in her appearance, but in the way she carried herself: calm, composed, and whole.

Her gaze shifted to Taryn, and Feyre took a moment to really look at the woman. Taryn was striking, her sharp features framed by dark hair that shimmered in the firelight. Her deep green eyes, cool and assessing, seemed to take in everything around her at once. She exuded a quiet confidence, one that balanced Nesta’s steadiness in an unexpected but complementary way. Feyre couldn’t help but think the two of them made an impressive pair, both polished and self-assured in ways that only added to their beauty.

Nesta and Taryn chose seats at the edge of the circle, slightly removed from the Inner Circle but still within reach. Feyre noticed the way Nesta’s hand lingered on the arm of her chair for a fraction of a second before she sat down, her gaze flicking toward Cassian and then away just as quickly.

Feyre settled herself in a nearby seat, her heart beating faster as she tried to catch Rhysand’s eye, silently willing him to say something to break the quiet. But her mate remained impassive, his violet eyes watchful as he leaned back in his chair.

Nesta folded her hands in her lap, her expression unreadable but calm. Taryn mirrored her, her gaze sweeping across the room, lingering briefly on each face before settling on the fire. Feyre couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nervousness as she realized how starkly Taryn’s composed demeanor contrasted with the awkwardness in the room.

Still, Feyre clung to the image of her sister as she was now—healthy, whole, and undeniably beautiful. Maybe, just maybe, this Solstice would be different.

Feyre perched on the edge of her chair, her fingers curling around the warm mug of tea Elain had handed her moments before. The silence stretched, oppressive and stifling, as everyone seemed content to avoid being the first to speak. Nesta sat still, her back straight and her gaze unwavering as she looked toward the fire, while Taryn leaned back in her chair with an air of quiet observation, her eyes flicking between each member of the Inner Circle.

Clearing her throat softly, Feyre decided to try. Someone had to break the silence. “So,” she began, forcing a smile that felt a little too tight. “How have you been, Nesta?”

Nesta’s gaze flicked to her, cool and composed. “I’ve been well,” she replied evenly, her voice calm but offering no further detail.

“Good, good,” Feyre said, trying to keep her tone light. “You look—healthy. Happy.”

Nesta’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Thank you.”

The tension thickened as Feyre searched for something else to say. She glanced at Taryn, hoping to bring her into the conversation. “And you, Taryn? How did you two meet?”

Taryn raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on her lips. “We crossed paths in Velaris,” she said simply. Her tone was polite but distant, as if she were carefully choosing her words.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Feyre said quickly, nodding. “Are you from Velaris originally?”

“No,” Taryn replied, and though her voice remained pleasant, there was a finality to it that made it clear she didn’t intend to elaborate.

Feyre felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on her, their silence only amplifying her own discomfort. She glanced toward Elain, who was now quietly rearranging the tray of cookies on the table, clearly avoiding getting involved. Mor crossed her legs, the sound of her heel tapping faintly against the floor the only indication of her impatience.

Cassian’s chair creaked as he shifted, his jaw tight, though he still hadn’t said a word. Azriel’s shadows swirled lazily at his shoulders, his unreadable gaze fixed on the fire. Even Rhysand, who could usually ease any room with a well-placed quip, sat quietly, his violet eyes unreadable.

“Well,” Feyre said, forcing another smile and gesturing vaguely toward the tray of cookies. “Elain baked those herself. They’re—ah, delicious.”

Nesta glanced at the cookies but made no move to take one. “I’m sure they are,” she said evenly, though her tone didn’t quite reach warmth.

Feyre felt the flush rise to her cheeks, the silence stretching again as her attempt at conversation fizzled out. She glanced at Rhys, silently pleading for him to step in, but he merely raised a brow, clearly leaving it to her to navigate this minefield.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm. Small steps, she reminded herself. Even if those steps felt more like stumbling in the dark.

Amren, ever the one to speak her mind, eyed Nesta with her usual calculating gaze. The tension in the room thickened as she leaned forward slightly, her sharp voice cutting through the quiet. “Well, well, Nesta,” she said, her tone laced with that usual dryness. “You look… well, you don’t look like you’ve spent your nights in taverns anymore. How interesting.”

Feyre’s heart sank, the words landing like a slap. She braced herself for the usual reaction, but to her surprise, Nesta didn’t flinch. She didn’t even respond. Her face remained calm, her gaze steady, but there was a quiet strength in her silence.

It was Azriel who broke the tension, a soft snort escaping him as he leaned back in his chair, his shadows swirling lazily around him. Feyre blinked in surprise as his lips curled upward in a rare, almost amused expression. It wasn’t often that Azriel openly showed his thoughts on something, but there it was—his appreciation for Nesta’s quiet defiance.

Nesta, for her part, seemed unfazed. She simply continued to sit there, her posture regal and her gaze fixed ahead, as if Amren’s words hadn’t even touched her. Feyre couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride in her chest at her sister’s unshakable composure.

It was then that Nesta’s eyes flicked to Taryn, and for a fleeting moment, Feyre caught a glimpse of something soft in her sister’s expression. There was an unmistakable look of pride on Nesta’s face as she glanced at the woman beside her—an unspoken recognition that, whatever her past had been, she had something now. Something real.

Taryn’s lips curled slightly at the corner, and though she didn’t speak, the look she exchanged with Nesta said everything. There was a quiet understanding between them, something unspoken, but palpable in the air around them. Feyre watched, still processing Amren’s comment and Azriel’s rare amusement, as Nesta and Taryn settled into the room with a grace that surprised even her.

Amren, sensing that the moment had passed without provoking the reaction she’d hoped for, sat back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly. She seemed to begrudgingly accept the shift in the dynamic, her attention drifting away from Nesta to the others, though her earlier comment still hung in the air.

But for the first time in a long while, Feyre didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. Instead, she watched her sister—strong, unbowed, and silently proud—and felt a deep sense of admiration for the woman Nesta had become.

The silence stretched for another few moments before Elain, ever the one to soften the tension, gave a small, polite cough. “Well,” she said, her voice light and a little too bright, “dinner is just about ready.”

Everyone seemed to take that as a cue, rising to their feet as though the movement could dissolve the discomfort that still lingered in the room. Feyre felt a quiet sigh of relief as the group slowly shuffled toward the table, the tension ebbing just slightly, though the undercurrent of awkwardness remained.

Nesta and Taryn, however, were the last to rise. They moved with an easy grace, and Feyre couldn’t help but notice the quiet but deliberate way they settled into their seats. Nesta was all composed elegance, her posture straight as she placed her napkin across her lap with careful precision, while Taryn followed suit beside her. Feyre briefly exchanged a glance with her sisters before joining the others at the table, settling into the seats already taken by Cassian, Rhysand, Azriel, and Amren.

As the dinner began, a soft hum of conversation started among the Inner Circle. It was hesitant at first, filled with polite exchanges and the kind of superficial pleasantries that came with shared history, but it slowly grew more natural. Feyre felt a weight lift from her chest as she tried to relax into the evening, though her eyes kept drifting to Nesta.

Cassian, unusually quiet, kept his gaze trained on his plate more than the conversation at hand, but Feyre caught him looking up several times, his gaze snapping toward Nesta as she spoke with Taryn. She was laughing softly at something Taryn said, her eyes warm, her posture relaxed. The sight of Nesta, at ease and so far removed from the bitter, closed-off woman she’d been, made Feyre’s heart swell with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

The tension that had been there earlier, the weight of the past, seemed to lift as Nesta filled her plate. She ate with a steady, measured grace, occasionally glancing around at the others. Her laughter rang clear when Taryn made a remark about something mundane, her smile radiant and full of life, her earlier silence forgotten. For the first time in a long while, Nesta was enjoying herself, and Feyre couldn’t help but feel a flutter of hope.

As Feyre continued to watch, her gaze flickered back to Cassian. He had his jaw clenched, but she could see the way his eyes lingered on Nesta—sometimes soft, sometimes intense. It was hard to miss the way his stare seemed to follow her every movement, but Nesta remained absorbed in conversation with Taryn, unaware of the attention.

Feyre’s heart twisted slightly at the sight. She knew what Cassian’s feelings for Nesta had been, and maybe still were. But Nesta… Nesta was a different person now. Stronger, freer. Feyre couldn’t help but wonder if the quiet longing in Cassian’s eyes would ever fade, or if it was something that would always linger between them, even in moments like this, where the distance between them seemed insurmountable.

As the meal continued, conversation flowed more easily, but beneath the surface, there was a quiet undercurrent of curiosity. Feyre could feel it, though no one spoke it aloud. All of them were watching, their eyes flicking between Nesta and Taryn, as they shared glances, smiles, and occasional whispered jokes. There was something undeniably close between the two women, an intimacy that spoke volumes without a word being said.

It was Cassian who seemed the most restrained, his silence betraying the thoughts he was no doubt keeping to himself. His gaze occasionally shifted to Nesta, then to Taryn, but it was hard to read his expression, his usual confident demeanor replaced with something more guarded. Amren, always quick to pick up on things, narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t comment. Instead, her attention seemed to shift between Nesta and Taryn, as though she was piecing together her own theories.

Rhysand kept his usual smile in place, but Feyre could see the flicker of curiosity behind his eyes. It was there, hidden beneath layers of casual conversation—everyone was silently guessing. Was it something new? A fleeting connection? Or was there more to their relationship than they could see at a glance?

But Feyre couldn’t shake the surprise that lingered in the back of her mind. She had always known Nesta to be… well, Nesta. She had never shown much interest in romantic relationships, not in the way Feyre had, and certainly not in women. Feyre had always chalked it up to her sister’s trauma, her walls so high that she never seemed to let anyone in. So when she saw the way Nesta and Taryn interacted, the small, shared glances and the subtle, tender touches, it was both startling and fascinating.

She had never imagined Nesta in that light—at least, not with another woman. She couldn’t help but feel a small spark of curiosity flicker in her chest. How long had this been going on? When had it started? And more than that, Feyre realized she had never once asked her sister about her heart—what she wanted or who she cared for. She had been so focused on Nesta’s bitterness and the distance between them, she had never taken the time to think beyond the surface, to ask what truly mattered to Nesta.

There was a fleeting moment, as Nesta laughed softly at something Taryn said, that Feyre caught a glimpse of something more than just friendship in their connection. The warmth, the comfort, the quiet joy that seemed to radiate from the two of them—it was unmistakable.

Feyre’s mind raced with questions she had never thought to ask, but in the same breath, she didn’t want to pry. Nesta had always been fiercely independent, and Feyre had learned the hard way that pushing too hard could create distance. But seeing her sister so happy, so at ease in Taryn’s presence, made Feyre wonder if maybe there was something she had missed.

She turned her attention back to her plate, trying to focus on the food in front of her, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Nesta and Taryn. She was surprised, yes, but she couldn’t deny that she felt a strange sense of relief. It was good, wasn’t it? To see Nesta with someone who seemed to make her feel at home.

The moment stretched on, the air thick with curiosity and silent observation, when suddenly, Morrigan’s voice broke through the quiet, sharp and cutting as always. Her eyes, glinting with mischief—or perhaps something more—settled on Nesta as she leaned slightly forward in her chair.

“So,” Morrigan said, her tone casual but laced with an undercurrent of something Feyre couldn’t quite place. “How long has this been going on between you two?”

It wasn’t an innocent question. The way Morrigan phrased it, with that familiar edge in her voice, made it clear it was meant as a jab—a test. Feyre’s heart stuttered as she glanced at her sister, expecting a reaction, waiting for something, anything, to break the carefully constructed calm.

Nesta didn’t flinch, though, her expression a picture of composed indifference. But Feyre could see the subtle shift in her posture—a tightening of her shoulders, the slight narrowing of her eyes. Nesta’s fingers gripped the edge of her plate just a little tighter. Taryn, who had been casually leaning toward Nesta, faltered, her smile dropping for a brief moment, but she quickly recovered, her own gaze hardening.

Feyre’s chest tightened as the silence stretched, heavy and charged. It was clear Morrigan’s question had hit its mark. It wasn’t just an innocent inquiry; it was a challenge, one that was meant to make Nesta squirm, to put her on the spot in front of everyone.

Azriel, seated across from Nesta, let out a soft, almost imperceptible breath—one that Feyre recognized as his way of showing his disapproval. Cassian, on the other hand, stiffened, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing. It was clear that this was a familiar dynamic, one that Morrigan often employed to get a rise out of people.

But Nesta’s response was nothing short of a revelation. With the same quiet confidence she’d shown earlier, she turned to Morrigan, her eyes icy and unfazed. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

The words were soft, but they carried weight. There was no anger in her tone, no sharpness—just a calm, deliberate dismissal of Morrigan’s jibe. Feyre could almost feel the ripple of tension that passed through the room at her sister’s response.

Morrigan, momentarily stunned by Nesta’s unflinching composure, blinked, but her lips curled into a thin smile, her gaze flicking between Nesta and Taryn. “Of course,” she said, almost mockingly, her voice still laced with the same biting humor. “I suppose it’s not my place to know.”

But it was clear to everyone that the barb had been thrown, and while Morrigan tried to brush it off, the atmosphere had shifted again—this time, away from curiosity and into something more uncomfortable. Feyre felt a slight burn of anger for her sister, for the way Morrigan had tried to undermine her so casually, but she couldn’t help but admire the way Nesta had held her ground.

The rest of the table seemed to sense it too. A few exchanged glances—some sympathetic, some cautious—but the tension didn’t break entirely. Morrigan, for all her wit and sharpness, had not expected Nesta to be so resolute, so untouchable.

Rhysand, who had been silently watching the exchange with a practiced calm, finally spoke up, his voice smooth and warm. He glanced at Nesta, his usual charismatic smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“It’s good to have you here, Nesta,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “Either way, it’s been… too quiet without you around.”

There was a pause, and then he added, more softly, “I know Feyre and Elain have missed having you here. You may not have seen it, but it’s true.”

Feyre’s heart stirred at his words, a small flicker of guilt flashing through her. She hadn’t realized how much her absence had weighed on the family until now—until Rhysand so easily voiced what had been left unsaid for so long.

Nesta didn’t respond immediately, but when she did, she raised an eyebrow in that way she always did when she was about to make a point. Her lips curled into a faint, knowing smile.

“Well,” she said, her voice steady, “I’ve invited both Feyre and Elain out to restaurants and taverns a few times. But it’s not like they ever accepted.”

There was no malice in her words, only a cool, unbothered truth that hung in the air. Feyre’s eyes widened, the surprise evident on her face, while Elain’s cheeks flushed a shade of pink that made Feyre feel the heat of embarrassment on her own face.

Feyre had never known—had never considered—that Nesta had tried to reach out like that. She thought back to the years of strained silence between them, to the countless nights Nesta had spent behind closed doors, away from the family.

But now, Nesta had put herself out there, offering something she hadn’t before, and Feyre had never even known. The realization stung more than Feyre had expected, but it also made her feel a tiny flicker of hope. Perhaps this was the beginning of something—something that would bring them all closer.

Feyre opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Nesta continued, her voice steady and unapologetic.

“I don’t do this often, you know,” she added, her gaze flickering between the three of them. “It’s not my style to chase people. But you all kept saying you wanted me around, so I thought I’d make an effort.”

Feyre was silent for a moment, unsure how to respond. She hadn’t realized how much effort it had taken for Nesta to come back, to reconnect. Nesta had always been the one to keep everyone at arm’s length, and yet here she was, still trying.

“Thank you,” Feyre said softly, her voice filled with an emotion she hadn’t expected. “I’m glad you did.”

Nesta’s expression softened for just a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. She gave a small shrug, as though the acknowledgment didn’t mean much to her, but to Feyre, it was everything.

Nesta sighed softly to herself, the weight of the evening settling deeper into her chest. She had been trying to navigate this new territory with her family, trying to find the right balance between distance and connection, but it was more difficult than she had imagined. She could feel the stares—casual, curious, like they were all waiting for something to happen.

Feyre, always the one to sense when things were off, cleared her throat and smiled brightly. “How about we have dessert while we open presents?” she suggested, her tone light, trying to shift the mood. “It’ll be fun.”

The others seemed eager for the distraction, nodding in agreement as they moved away from the dinner table and toward the living area where the presents were gathered. The air, though, still hung heavy with the unspoken, as if everyone was quietly waiting for the moment to pass.

Feyre picked up the first present, holding it carefully as she read the name on the tag. Her brow furrowed for a moment, and then she looked up with a small, surprised smile. “This one’s from Nesta,” she said, her voice soft but clear, holding the gift out as she looked around. The silence stretched for a beat, the atmosphere thick with an odd tension.

Nesta met her gaze, a flicker of something unreadable passing across her features. She was sitting back a little, arms folded loosely across her chest, watching the scene unfold without offering much of a reaction.

Feyre carefully untied the ribbon, peeling back the paper, and inside was a set of paintbrushes and oils. The wooden box was elegant in its simplicity, polished to a smooth finish. The paints looked high-quality, and the brushes—sleek and professional—spoke volumes about Nesta’s taste. Feyre’s heart skipped a beat as she realized what the gift meant. She hadn’t expected something so thoughtful.

“I—” Feyre paused, a lump forming in her throat. “Thank you,” she said, her voice unsteady, but genuine. The room seemed to hold its breath as Nesta nodded, watching her closely.

The rest of the Inner Circle looked between each other, their gazes shifting from Nesta to Feyre, but no one spoke right away. It wasn’t the gift that made them hesitant, it was the quiet undercurrent of something else—the words that went unspoken between them, the history that still hung in the air. But Nesta didn’t seem bothered by the silence; she simply sat back, looking more relaxed than she had in a long time, her attention now drifting toward Taryn, who was seated beside her.

The tension in the room remained thick, and the presents continued to be passed around, but it wasn’t lost on Feyre how everyone was exchanging small, tentative glances. It was clear that there was still much to navigate, much to rebuild, but this moment—this simple, thoughtful gift—felt like a bridge. Something solid in the midst of all the uncertainty.

Feyre opened the next gift, the room shifting with small, awkward comments and light-hearted jabs as everyone tried to break the silence. But for Feyre, as she gently ran her fingers over the brush handles, a quiet thought lingered in her mind: maybe things weren’t as broken as they seemed. Maybe this, however uncomfortable, was still progress.

As the presents continued to circulate, Feyre couldn’t help but feel the tension in the air, a soft, lingering undercurrent of discomfort. She was watching her family, taking in the moments of awkwardness, the careful smiles, and the small exchanges, when Cassian and Morrigan suddenly swapped gifts. Feyre’s eyes widened as Morrigan unwrapped a set of elegant, dark lace lingerie, holding it up with a smirk that said everything about the playful jab she’d likely intended. Cassian, in turn, was holding up a similarly risqué gift—soft, red silk underwear that made even Feyre blush a little.

She had expected the moment to be awkward, maybe even uncomfortable, but as she glanced over at Nesta and Taryn, sitting beside one another, she was surprised to see them smiling softly at each other. It wasn’t a fleeting glance, either—there was a warmth between them, a quiet understanding that Feyre hadn’t seen in Nesta before.

Taryn leaned in slightly toward Nesta, her lips brushing her ear as she whispered something too soft for anyone else to hear. Nesta’s eyes widened for a split second, then softened, and to Feyre’s complete surprise, she giggled. A full, unguarded laugh—something Feyre hadn’t heard from her sister in a long time, something that made her heart flutter with the unfamiliar joy of seeing Nesta so at ease.

It was a sound that didn’t fit with the version of Nesta Feyre had grown used to. The older sister who had kept so much inside, the one who rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable, much less to show any outward softness. Nesta’s laugh seemed to cut through the room’s awkwardness, drawing a few curious glances from the others as they tried to figure out what had made her so lighthearted.

Feyre blinked, unsure of what to make of it. She glanced quickly at Taryn, who had a small, knowing smile on her lips, as if pleased by the effect she’d had on Nesta. But it wasn’t just the laugh that caught Feyre off guard—it was the connection between the two women, something new and subtle that Feyre hadn’t expected to see.

She quickly turned her gaze away, pretending to focus on the next gift being opened, but she couldn’t stop the lingering thoughts that followed her. Could it be that Nesta was truly finding herself in this new chapter?

As Feyre watched Nesta and Taryn, something shifted in her chest, an unexpected sadness that wasn’t entirely about Feyre herself, but about the years that had slipped away, the things left unsaid, and the distance that had quietly built between them. Seeing Nesta laugh, something so genuine and full of life, reminded Feyre of the parts of her sister she had longed to see emerge again, but hadn’t. It made her realize how much time had passed without them truly connecting, without really knowing who Nesta had become during all those long months of silence.

It wasn’t that Feyre was angry or resentful about the way Nesta had distanced herself, or about the woman who had clearly made her so happy. No, it wasn’t Taryn who caused the sadness, nor was it about the complicated emotions that came with watching someone you loved grow into something you hadn’t anticipated. Feyre was happy for Nesta, truly, in a way that surprised her. She was glad her sister had found a space where she could laugh freely, where she could be something more than the woman who had been crushed by grief and trauma.

But Feyre couldn’t ignore the deep ache in her chest as she watched. How had she let it go so long without truly seeing her sister, without trying harder to understand her? Nesta had changed, she had grown, and Feyre felt as if she had been standing at the edge, waiting for her sister to come back—but Nesta had already found herself elsewhere. It hurt, in a way that Feyre didn’t know how to articulate.

Her smile, though warm, was tinged with something more bittersweet now. As Nesta and Taryn exchanged whispers, as they shared something that felt so uniquely theirs, Feyre realized she was no longer the person her sister turned to for comfort. It was Taryn, not her. And for all the love she had for Nesta, for all the good intentions she had in trying to bring her back, Feyre felt the quiet sting of being left behind.

This wasn’t something Feyre blamed anyone for—least of all Nesta. It was just a quiet realization of how much time had passed, how much had shifted, and how those changes were irreversible. She had always thought they would grow together, in their own ways, but that hope had begun to feel more distant. Feyre sighed softly, quickly pushing the emotion down, not wanting to let it steal the joy of the evening.

Elain cleared her throat, breaking the soft silence that had fallen over the room. Her eyes darted to the pile of presents before her, and she carefully picked up one that seemed different from the others. It wasn’t a box, but a carefully wrapped bundle, and she held it out toward Nesta, her hands slightly trembling as if unsure of the reaction she’d receive.

“Here, Nesta,” Elain said, her voice a little quieter than usual, but warm, full of hope.

Feyre watched, her heart tightening as Elain offered the gift. It was a book set, wrapped in delicate paper with a satin ribbon, the kind of gift that showed thoughtfulness. Elain had always been the one who poured herself into nurturing those around her, even when it came to Nesta, despite the distance that had grown between them. Feyre could see how much Elain was hoping for a good reaction—how much she wanted to rebuild that connection with Nesta, even if it was just through something small like this.

For a moment, there was a stillness in the room, everyone waiting, perhaps holding their breath to see how Nesta would respond. And then, slowly, Nesta took the gift from Elain’s hands. She smiled faintly, her eyes scanning the wrapping before she carefully set it down to untie the ribbon.

When she finally unwrapped it, Nesta’s eyes flickered over the book set—classic novels, well-loved and already known to her, perhaps something Elain had thought she’d enjoy. But Nesta didn’t seem surprised. She didn’t seem disappointed either, though there was a moment’s pause before she looked back at Elain.

“I already have this,” Nesta said, her tone soft but steady. “But thank you, Elain.”

Nesta’s smile lingered, something faintly warm in her eyes as she looked at Elain. “I appreciate it,” she said quietly, her voice softer than usual, her words more sincere than Feyre had heard in a long while.

As the conversation moved on, Feyre felt a sudden weight settle in her chest. She glanced over at the pile of presents, and her gaze drifted to Nesta. Elain’s gift had been the only one for her, the only thing that had been offered to Nesta. The realization hit Feyre like a cold wave—she hadn’t gotten Nesta anything. She hadn’t even thought to, caught up in everything else, in the tension of the evening, in the strange, quiet joy of having her sister back in their lives.

The sting of guilt gnawed at her, because she should have thought of something. She should have found something personal, something meaningful to give to Nesta, especially after everything they had been through. But no, Elain was the only one who had considered it.

Feyre glanced down at her own hands, feeling suddenly empty and unprepared. How had she missed it? Had she truly been so focused on the idea of Nesta returning, on making things right between them, that she had forgotten the simple act of giving? She should have gotten something for Nesta, something that showed she remembered, that she cared. Something that wasn’t just a grand gesture or a fleeting hope but something small and thoughtful.

Her heart squeezed in her chest as she looked at Nesta. She could see the way her sister was holding herself, the careful way she smiled, even as she tried to mask any discomfort. Nesta hadn’t expected anything. Feyre had assumed that Nesta wouldn’t care, that she would be indifferent to the gifts or the evening, but that wasn’t true. Nesta had accepted the invitation. She had come. She had brought someone with her. And here was Feyre, not even having thought to give her something—anything—to mark the occasion, to show that she still cared, even after everything.

For the briefest moment, Feyre felt her face flush with embarrassment. She was the one who had wanted this night to go well, to have her family together again, but now it felt like she had failed Nesta in the smallest, most basic way.

She looked over at Elain, who was still smiling, still holding onto that soft relief, as if her gift had been the bridge between them. Feyre felt the weight of her failure in the silence that followed. No one had commented on the fact that Elain’s gift was the only one, but Feyre knew. She knew, and it stung more than she could explain.

Her gaze flickered over to the pile of presents once more, and her stomach dropped as the pieces slowly clicked together.

They had all received gifts from Nesta. Each one of them.

Cassian had his new set of armor polish, perfectly chosen for the items he’d always used to maintain his gear. Mor had a sleek, beautifully crafted dagger—one that Feyre knew would be the perfect match for her. Even Azriel had a dark cloak, lined with silver threads that shimmered faintly under the light, a gift she knew Azriel would never admit to appreciating but would wear nonetheless.

And yet, Feyre hadn’t reciprocated. She hadn’t thought to give Nesta anything, while Nesta had clearly put effort into their gifts, had thought about each of them, chosen something personal.

Feyre opened her mouth to speak, to try and bridge the awkward silence that seemed to have settled again, when Taryn unexpectedly reached for an envelope tucked inside her bag. She handed it over to Nesta with a soft, knowing smile, and Nesta took it, her fingers lingering on the edges of the paper for just a second longer than necessary.

Feyre watched as Nesta carefully opened the envelope, her brow furrowing slightly as she pulled out a pair of tickets. The moment her eyes scanned them, they widened in shock, her voice barely a whisper as she read the name aloud. “The ballet?”

Taryn nodded, her smile warm, and Feyre caught a glimmer of something—pride, maybe—beneath her calm exterior.

Nesta, still holding the tickets in her hands, blinked in disbelief. “But they sold out months ago,” she said, shaking her head in amazement. “I—I didn’t think there was any way to get in. How… how did you manage this?”

Taryn’s smile softened even more, and Feyre could see the connection between them, an ease that was new, and yet, not so new after all. Taryn had a way of making Nesta look like she was finally settling into something she hadn’t quite realized she was missing—something that wasn’t just companionship but a deeper understanding, a way of making the world feel just a little more expansive for Nesta.

“I have my ways,” Taryn replied simply, a wink accompanying her words.

For a moment, Nesta was speechless, the tickets held so tightly in her hands that Feyre thought they might tear. But then Nesta’s lips curled into a genuine, wide smile—the kind Feyre hadn’t seen on her sister’s face in years. It was a look of pure, unguarded joy, a moment of surprise and gratitude.

“Thank you,” Nesta said softly, her voice almost cracking. Feyre had to swallow down the tightness in her own throat as she watched her sister. That small, simple act of kindness from Taryn—something Feyre hadn’t seen in their family for so long—seemed to break something open in Nesta.

Taryn gave a soft shrug, as if to say it was nothing, but Feyre couldn’t help but notice the way Nesta’s expression shifted, how her posture softened just slightly. The tension that had clung to her earlier seemed to ease just a little, like a small crack in the armor she wore so tightly around herself.

She hadn’t realized just how much it must have hurt—how much it must have meant to Nesta—that this was a piece of her past, a part of herself, that she had quietly kept hidden. Feyre remembered the long-ago days when Nesta had danced, her movements graceful, her face full of joy. But those memories had faded, overshadowed by everything that had happened since.

And now, seeing Nesta hold those tickets, the spark of something old and forgotten in her eyes, Feyre couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since her sister had allowed herself something purely for her own enjoyment. Something that wasn’t just about surviving the weight of the world.

It hit Feyre with a sharp clarity—when Nesta had said she’d frequented the taverns, not for the men or the drinks, but for the music, they’d all thought she was lying. They had assumed it was just another excuse, another way for her to hide, to make her actions seem less painful or desperate. But Feyre realized now how wrong they’d been, how little they had truly understood. Nesta hadn’t been lying. She had been searching for something beautiful, something that resonated with her heart—the music, the rhythm, the feeling of moving to a beat that wasn’t born of their cruel, tumultuous world.

The guilt gnawed at Feyre. They had brushed it off as just another thing Nesta claimed, another part of her that seemed too difficult to believe. But it wasn’t. Nesta had always loved dancing, always had a soul that craved something more than the darkness of the taverns. Feyre had dismissed it, had dismissed her, not even bothering to see the layers that had made Nesta who she was, the complexities that lay beneath the surface.

Now, as she watched Nesta sit with Taryn, the gift of the ballet tickets between them, Feyre couldn’t help but wonder how much of Nesta’s soul had been buried in the years she spent trying to survive—how much of it she had given up to the harshness of their world, to the expectations and the hurt. Feyre had never asked her about the music. She had never asked Nesta to tell her what she had really been seeking when she wandered into those taverns.

And now, Feyre had to confront the reality that they had failed to see it, failed to see Nesta’s pain and the things she longed for, things that didn’t involve anyone else but her.

Her heart clenched painfully, and she couldn’t shake the thought that she, too, had been a part of that failure. They had all let Nesta be alone in her struggle, thinking her needs and desires were just more of her façade. They hadn’t even considered that she might be trying to reclaim a part of herself, trying to find something to hold on to that wasn’t all wrapped up in the past they had shared. It was only now, watching her with Taryn, that Feyre could see the weight of her sister’s quiet longing.

The sudden awareness of this made Feyre feel smaller, more guilty. She had thought that Nesta was lost, that the anger and the bitterness she displayed were all that was left. But Nesta had always been more than that. She had always been more than the broken pieces they had ignored for so long.

As the present exchange began to wind down, Feyre thought the tension might finally start to lift. She watched as the last few gifts were passed around, each one drawing out more smiles, more laughter, a moment of connection that hadn’t been there before. But then, Cassian stood, that teasing grin of his slowly spreading across his face as he held up a small, delicate box in front of Nesta.

“This one,” Cassian said with a playful tone, “is for you as well.”

Nesta’s eyes flicked to the box, her brow furrowing slightly, but she didn’t say anything. Feyre noticed the way her sister’s posture stiffened, a subtle shift that didn’t go unnoticed. Cassian, ever the opportunist, didn’t seem to care as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a mockingly sweet tone.

“Open it, sweetheart,” he teased.

For a second, it felt like the entire room froze. Nesta’s face, usually so controlled, shifted ever so slightly—an uncomfortable twinge in her features, a small narrowing of her eyes that Feyre recognized all too well. She didn’t want to take the box, but she did, her fingers grasping it with hesitant care. The room waited in almost a silence as Nesta slowly opened the small lid.

Feyre could feel her heart thud in her chest, and for the first time, she understood that something was off. The joy, the warmth that had started to blanket the evening, vanished in an instant. Nesta’s eyes dropped to the contents of the box, and when she saw the ring inside, the air around them seemed to thickest.

The room was silent. Feyre’s throat tightened as she realized what was in the box—a simple, silver ring. But not just any ring. It was the same one Cassian had tried to give Nesta the last Solstice. The same ring she had rejected with a sharpness that had left Cassian wounded and the rest of them uncomfortable. Feyre had known it was a painful memory for both of them, but seeing it again now, in the present, felt somehow worse than it had before. It was a ghost of their past, a reminder of the rift between them.

Nesta’s face was unreadable, but Feyre could see the flicker of something—maybe confusion, maybe dread—in her sister’s eyes. It was clear Nesta hadn’t expected this. It was clear she hadn’t wanted this. She took the ring from the box slowly, her fingers brushing over the smooth metal as she exhaled quietly, but her lips were pressed tightly together.

Cassian stood, grinning like the fool he was, his eyes glinting with that mischievous gleam he usually wore. “What’s the matter, Nesta? Not even a thank you?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly testing the waters, his voice lighthearted but carrying a hint of challenge.

Feyre couldn’t help the surge of discomfort that rushed through her. She wanted to say something, to stop Cassian before he made it worse, but she found herself frozen in place. She had been so focused on the fragile balance of the evening, on how much progress Nesta had made in such a short time, that she hadn’t anticipated this moment—this reminder of the tension that still lingered beneath the surface between her sister and Cassian.

Nesta, to everyone’s surprise, didn’t respond immediately. She looked at the ring in her hand, a flicker of something crossing her face, and then she slowly, carefully, set it back in the box. She closed the lid with deliberate slowness, her gaze lifting to Cassian’s with a quiet intensity. For a moment, the room felt as though it was holding its breath.

“No, thank you,” Nesta said softly, her voice steady but firm. “But this isn’t something I need. Not now.”

Cassian’s grin faltered, the teasing edge gone. Feyre could see the frustration building behind his eyes, but he didn’t push. Instead, he gave a small, resigned shrug, as though he was used to this—used to the unspoken rejection that hung between them like an invisible thread.

Taryn, still sitting beside Nesta, placed a gentle hand on her arm, an unspoken show of support, and Nesta looked at her, offering a small, almost imperceptible smile in return.

Feyre couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but something about the moment made her chest tighten with sorrow. It was as if, despite all the progress, the chasm between Nesta and Cassian still remained. And it wasn’t just a matter of pride or refusal. It was something deeper—something neither of them had fully reckoned with.

Cassian’s face darkened as Nesta handed the ring back with such finality. The playful grin he had worn moments earlier disappeared, replaced by a look of quiet hurt, the kind that only those close to him could read. He stared at the box, his fingers flexing, as if he were trying to force the weight of the situation into something lighter, but it wasn’t working. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, but there was no hiding the hurt that lingered behind his eyes. He quickly tried to mask it with a shrug, but it was clear that Nesta’s rejection had cut deeper than he had let on.

Morrigan, ever the one to speak her mind, let out a sharp scoff. She leaned back in her chair, her arms folding over her chest as she gave a pointed look toward Nesta. “Well, that was just charming,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Could’ve at least been polite about it, don’t you think?”

Feyre’s heart sank. She had hoped the evening might stay civil, that they could all enjoy the rare peace they had with Nesta’s return. But Morrigan’s comment tore through the fragile air of the gathering, cutting it like a knife. Feyre glanced at Nesta, who didn’t flinch at the jab, but instead, her eyes hardened—sharp, unwavering. It was clear that Morrigan’s words meant nothing to her now.

Nesta remained silent, her jaw tightening, but her gaze never wavered from Morrigan. There was no anger in her eyes—only a steady resolve, as if she had long since stopped caring about what people thought of her. Cassian, still standing, looked away quickly, clearly not wanting anyone to see the rawness in his expression.

Morrigan, of course, didn’t care. She tilted her head slightly, studying the tension in the room like it was an entertaining spectacle. “I just don’t get it,” Morrigan continued, her voice dripping with condescension. “What’s the point of playing hard to get if you aren’t even willing to try? Doesn’t seem like you’re putting in much effort, Nesta.”

Nesta’s glare cut through the room like a blade, her icy stare locking onto Morrigan as the words fell from her lips. There was no hint of hesitation, no softness in her tone—just the cold, biting clarity that always seemed to come when Nesta was pushed to her limit. “Do I really need to spell it out for you?” she said, her voice calm but dangerous, each word deliberate. “I’m in a relationship. A real one. And I don’t owe anyone, least of all Cassian, anything. I don’t need to return his feelings just because he’s decided that I should.”

The silence in the room thickened as Nesta’s words hung in the air, but Morrigan, ever the provocateur, wasn’t about to back down. She leaned forward, her gaze sharp and unapologetic. “He’s your mate, Nesta,” Morrigan said, her voice dripping with something Feyre couldn’t quite place—whether it was disdain or just sheer annoyance at being defied. “You can’t just dismiss that. You don’t get to throw away a bond like that.”

Cassian’s expression twisted, and for a moment, Feyre thought she saw a flash of something—resentment, hurt, maybe even shame—as he looked between Morrigan and Nesta. But it was quickly replaced by a blankness, as if he had shut himself off from the conversation entirely.

Nesta didn’t flinch at Morrigan’s words. If anything, the corner of her lips twitched ever so slightly, almost as though she were amused by Morrigan’s inability to grasp what she had said. “Maybe I don’t want to be defined by that bond, Morrigan,” Nesta replied, her voice low but firm. “Maybe I don’t want to be tied to someone just because fate decided it for me. You think that’s easy? That it’s something I just want to accept and move on with?”

The tension in the room crackled like a storm, and Feyre could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t want to intervene, but she also knew that whatever was happening between Nesta and Morrigan had to be addressed—before it turned into something that would break apart what little progress they had made.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes, clearly unfazed by Nesta’s words. “That’s your choice, I suppose,” she said, her tone laced with something Feyre couldn’t quite place—frustration, maybe, or disbelief. “But you’re not going to convince anyone here that what you’re doing is right, Nesta. Especially when he’s your mate.”

For the first time, Feyre noticed the look in Cassian’s eyes—a mixture of hurt and something else that was harder to define. It was the look of a man who had been told, once again, that he wasn’t enough, despite the bond that should have connected them. Despite everything he had done, everything he had tried.

Nesta’s expression softened for a fraction of a second, but it was quickly replaced by the same implacable distance that had become her armor. She didn’t look at Cassian; her gaze was focused solely on Morrigan as she delivered the final blow. “You can think whatever you want, Morrigan,” Nesta said, the edge of finality in her voice unmistakable.

Feyre, feeling the weight of the moment, quickly pushed herself to her feet, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to interject. “Please, can we just—” she began, but Nesta stood before her, cutting her off with the sharpness of a blade.

“I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Nesta said, her voice flat and resolute, with no hint of the warmth that had been there when they’d first sat down. She didn’t look at anyone else, her gaze fixed straight ahead, as though she had made up her mind the moment Morrigan’s words hit her ears. “Taryn and I are leaving.”

The room was frozen in place for a moment, everyone watching as Nesta turned away without waiting for any further response. Taryn followed quietly behind her, picking up her bag, her expression unreadable. Feyre’s heart sank as she watched them both move towards the door. It had all unraveled so quickly.

Feyre, unable to stop herself, moved to follow. She felt a desperate need to fix things, to somehow make everything right, but she knew, deep down, that the damage was already done. “Nesta, please,” Feyre called softly as she reached her. “I’m sorry. Morrigan—she didn’t mean to make it worse, but she didn’t understand. I know, Cassian is your mate, and we all respect your choice, truly. But isn’t this something we should… maybe talk about? Please?”

Nesta stopped, turning to face Feyre, her expression still unreadable, though there was a glimmer of something behind her eyes—something Feyre couldn’t quite decipher. For a moment, they simply stood there, the weight of Feyre’s words hanging in the air between them. Nesta was silent for a long time, and when she finally spoke, her words cut through the tension like a cold wind.

“Is Elain talking to Lucien while flirting with Azriel?” Nesta asked, her voice low, but the challenge in it clear. Her eyes flicked over to Elain, who was still at the table, looking as surprised as anyone else. The comment was so pointed, so unexpected, that Feyre froze for a moment, unsure how to respond.

Feyre’s face flushed hot with a sudden rush of embarrassment. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and she glanced over at Elain, who was equally flustered, her cheeks pink with the unmistakable hint of a blush. It was so obvious now—Elain’s soft laughter, her teasing looks at Azriel, and the way she seemed to be drawn to him more and more lately. Feyre couldn’t help the sudden, awkward shift in her own expression as she shot a quick look at Azriel, who had gone entirely still, his gaze focused on nothing in particular.

“Oh,” Feyre stammered, her face now burning. “I—well, that’s not exactly—” She trailed off, unsure of what to say. There was no denying it now. “I mean, she’s not… It’s not like that,” she finally managed, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew how it sounded—like she was trying to cover something up.

Nesta’s lips quirked into a half-smile, though it was more bemusement than anything else. “You don’t have to lie, Feyre,” she said quietly, a note of something almost sympathetic in her tone. “It’s obvious.”

Feyre felt her stomach twist. She had always been so attuned to the unspoken moments between her sisters, but this—this moment of embarrassment, of Nesta cutting through the tension with something so sharp—was entirely new.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre repeated, her voice small. “It’s just… It’s been a long night. I didn’t mean for it to go this way.”

Nesta, however, didn’t seem to hold any ill will. She nodded once, her expression hardening again, like she was already shutting herself off from any further emotional entanglements. “We’ll be going now,” she said softly, but the finality in her voice made it clear that there was no room for discussion.

Feyre, her heart aching with the weight of the evening’s tension, took a tentative step toward Nesta, her voice soft and sincere. “I would love to have you again, Nesta. Please, don’t be a stranger,” she said, her words carrying a warmth, a hope she desperately wanted to believe in.

Nesta paused as she reached for the door, her back still turned to Feyre. The dim light of the room flickered in the silence that stretched between them, and for a moment, Feyre thought Nesta might not respond at all. But then she heard her voice, low and steady, yet touched with something unspoken.

“We have a house now,” Nesta said, her tone even but undeniably firm. “Taryn and I. Every weekend, we’re at the taverns.” She finally turned to face Feyre, her expression unreadable but not unfriendly. “You’re welcome to stop by if you want. They’ve got live shows playing, and we always have a couple of drinks.”

Feyre swallowed, her breath catching as the words sank in. She had expected something else, perhaps a refusal, perhaps a coldness, but this… this was something different. It wasn’t an invitation with open arms, but it wasn’t a door slammed shut either. It was a line drawn, an offer made, but with distance—a distance Feyre knew she had no right to cross easily.

“I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind,” Feyre said, her voice softer than she intended, filled with a sadness she couldn’t quite suppress. “I hope you know you’re always welcome here too, Nesta.”

Nesta nodded once, her gaze flickering briefly to Taryn, who stood by the door, ready to leave. “Thank you, Feyre,” she said, the words surprisingly calm, though there was a finality to them.

As Nesta moved toward the door, Taryn paused, her gaze shifting from the retreating figure of her friend to Feyre. There was a quiet intensity in her eyes, a calm that carried with it a sense of finality. She took a breath before she spoke, her voice carrying a weight that made Feyre stop in her tracks.

“She’s inviting you. It’s up to you and Elain to decide if you want to be a part of her life, not the other way around.”

With those final words, Taryn gave a small nod, the strength in her gaze undiminished. She turned toward the door to join Nesta, but before leaving, she looked back at Feyre once more.

“She’s trying, but if you keep waiting for her to come to you, you’ll lose her.”

The door closed softly behind them, leaving Feyre standing in the quiet, the sting of Taryn’s words echoing in the silence.

Feyre stood frozen, her mind racing as Taryn’s words replayed in her head. She felt a heavy, suffocating shame settle in her chest, a tightness that constricted her lungs. Her feet felt rooted to the floor, but the sting of truth washed over her like a wave, forcing her to turn back toward the room.

Taryn had been right. All of it—every single word.

The realization hit Feyre like a gut punch, and her face flushed with the heat of guilt. She had expected so much from Nesta—her loyalty, her presence, her willingness to return to them—without ever stopping to think what it cost her.

She hadn’t been fair.

[bookofmirth]

The english side of me REALLY jumped out with this one lol

Possessiveness, jealousy, and overprotectiveness are staples of the romance genre, especially when it comes to paranormal romances, so much so that it’s expected for people to overlook the problematic aspects of possessiveness, jealousy, and overprotectiveness because these concepts in the romance genre are meant to be viewed not only as hot and sexy, but indicators of love and showing that the person cares. Despite their tendency to fall in the yellow flag zone, these concepts are meant to further the romance itself. And when you begin to question these concepts as they appear in different romances, there’s almost always pushback with people saying the books are “just fiction”. But what happens when there’s evidence that shows why these three concepts aren’t always healthy or hot/sexy in a romantic pairing? What happens when the narrative is using these concepts to show how they can be detrimental to a character and those romantically associated with that character?

Possessiveness/Overprotectiveness

In romances, it’s always in the man’s nature to be possessive and overprotective. These two concepts are usually used to show that a character is protective of their partner and we see that happen with almost all of SJM’s endgame ships, but they’re almost always portrayed as good/healthy because of the equal partnership that is present in those relationships. Thinking about acotar, a relationship where possessiveness and overprotectiveness were depicted in a negative light was between Feyre and Tamlin. Their relationship was imbalance and Tamlin’s possessiveness/overprotectiveness of Feyre stood out in the barriers he placed on Feyre when they were together: not letting her leave the house/keeping her in the house; saying everything is for her “protection”; only letting her talk to Alis and Lucien/limiting her interactions with others; telling Lucien to back off from Feyre because Tamlin saw him as a threat and that she could fall for him instead; having Feyre be dependent on him by not teaching her how to fight/learn how to use her powers; controlling every aspect of Feyre’s life at the beginning of acomaf; among other things.

Males in acotar feel an intrinsic sense of entitlement to their mate and are described as being protective and possessive over their mates. When people say that A is exhibiting “mate behavior” towards E, obviously there is a positive connotation associated with that phrase because of how the males act around their mate. But the thing is A isn’t E’s mate. A’s possessiveness of E is treading on the waters of Tamlin-ville because: A speaks for E, which is oddly similar to what some of E’s stans do in fandom discussions (as if E herself reached out of the book to personally tell them things that no one else knows); he makes it known that E shouldn’t help with the Dread Trove, which is an example of A attempting to limit what E does; and he subtly expresses a sense of entitlement over E in the bonus chapter during his conversation with Rhys when he questions if the Cauldron was wrong in pairing E with Lucien. A’s “mate behavior” is completely different from Rhys and Cassian because Rhys and Cassian are canonically mated to Feyre and Nesta, which plays a role in how they act towards them. Also, neither of them attempt to limit what Feyre and Nesta do even if they worry about their safety. To say that A is exhibiting “mate behavior” towards E would have the same effect as saying Tamlin was exhibiting “mate behavior” towards Feyre. I think that the reason A’s actions towards E are described as mate-like is because thinking otherwise calls his actions into question. I assume some people aren’t ready for that conversation because he’s been portrayed as the sad bat boy in the fandom for so long that it’s probably hard for people to come to terms with this not being the case.

When people say A being overprotective of E is similar to Rhys and Cassian being overprotective of Feyre and Nesta, the comparison becomes incomparable because A is overprotective of E to the point where he goes against what E wants to do (E stating she wanted to help find the dread trove, a scene in which A was present and later A said E shouldn’t be exposed to its innate darkness), while Rhys and Cassian know Feyre and Nesta are capable of fending for themselves in dangerous situations. It’s just ironic that A’s overprotectiveness in this moment contradicts E’s “choice” of wanting to help, yet I don’t see that being mentioned in those “choice” arguments.

Jealousy

Jealousy in the romance genre is always meant to further the romance between the love interests and we see that happen with rowaelin and chaorene (and probably other SJM ships too). But when the jealousy and the romance are disconnected from each other, that’s meant to show something about the character who is jealous and what they’re jealous of. On the second page of the bonus chapter, it’s established that A is envious of Cassian and Rhys and that the reason he remained downstairs by the fire was so that he didn’t get swallowed up by his jealousy in his room. Then on the third page, it’s revealed that the reason he stayed by the door at Solstice was because “he couldn’t stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much”. There is a blatant reimagining happening with A’s bonus chapter to make it seem as though his jealousy is romantically coded when the jealousy has nothing to do with his relationship with E and more to do with him. This reimagining has to be a case of people seeing what they want to see because I highly doubt people are out here failing literature class.

The Romance Genre & SJM

A and E’s interaction in the bonus chapter is frequently compared to Wings and Embers. The only similarity between these two chapters is the sexual undertones, which is part of the reason why I think people compare them in the first place because everything else (the structure of the chapters, their contents, and the amount of characters involved in them) is different. I think people are hiding behind the sexual undertones of the bonus chapter in hopes that it somehow overshadows not only the oddness of A’s interaction with E, but the ending of the bonus chapter as well. And even more than that, A giving away the necklace is compared to Cassian tossing Nesta’s present in the Sidra. Since A is able to give the necklace away that should tell you about the significance of the necklace’s connection to E herself (if A can easily give it away to the next person on the street) whereas Cassian regifting Nesta’s present would probably be meaningless to someone else because it was Nesta specific.

We know that acotar is more romance heavy compared to tog and cc so I can see why people lean more on the conventions of the romance genre as a basis for their arguments. And this is fueled by SJM saying this new trilogy will have one couple per book. However, the downfall of these arguments is that oftentimes the plot, narrative structure of this new trilogy in particular, and individual character progressions are secondary or afterthoughts to the romance they support. These arguments lack any real substance because acotar has proved time and time again that both the romance AND the plot work in tandem, going against the broad strokes of the romance genre formula where the romance is primarily in the spotlight.

Basically, why do you think A’s possessiveness, jealousy, and overprotectiveness of E is romanticized? Why do you think A and E’s dynamic is constantly compared to feysand and nessian? And why do you think people take issue with A being compared to Tamlin?

I think that the reason A’s actions towards E are described as mate-like is because thinking otherwise calls his actions into question.

THIS

I hate the whole discussion of "mate behavior" because the series doesn't even explain that very well. Rhys can't explain why people are mated, if it's for reproduction or being "equals" (in what sense, who knows), the courts all handle acceptance/rejection differently, the consequences of rejection are unclear and make it seem like the woman is beholden to accept on pain of... causing someone else pain.

I agree 100% that people (maybe unconsciously) try to ascribe "mate behavior" to Azriel in order to excuse what would ordinarily be inexcusable. He doesn't have some magical thing making him act this way. Neither did Tamlin, and we know how people view his behavior. And that's another thing with "mate behavior" and the bond. Why would Tamlin and Feyre not be mates, if all it took were these extreme possessive and protective behaviors? Why aren't Az and Mor mates?

And it's not even about Elain! Az acts like this with Mor, and we know there isn't a mating bond there. Azriel has zero reason to behave the way that he does, not in the same way that the mating bond gives Rhys and Cassian an "excuse", flimsy as it is, for the way that they act around Nesta and Feyre. Even that excuse is crap, because we have Rhys out here leaving Feyre's abusive ex alone, and then we have Lucien doing the same with Graysen. The definition of "mate behavior" that some of the fandom is working with... is sus.

The fact is that no matter how "overprotective" and possessive Rhys and Cassian were, they never prevented Nesta or Feyre from doing what they wanted. They might have gotten their hackles up, but then they backed off. Rhys sent Feyre into the Weaver's cottage. Nesta went to war. There is a balance between caring deeply and passionately for these women, and recognizing them as individuals whose autonomy should be respected.

The jealousy is 100% not about Elain. It's not about Elain being with Lucien. It's not about Mor, because we know that it's not really about Mor sleeping with Helion. Azriel has 99 problems, and 98.5 of them are about his childhood and his loneliness. The other 0.5 problem comes in the shape of a snowball.

The only similarity between these two chapters is the sexual undertones

You know I haven't done a full blown comparison between these chapters, but I'd agree. The entire Wings and Embers short was about Nesta and Cassian. There were no other characters and they learned a great deal about one another. What did Elain and Az learn about one another as people in the first third of his POV? Nothing. There was no tension between them other than sexual. Cassian thought Nesta's name over and over, thought about her as a person and her personality and how she made him feel. Azriel literally only thinks about fucking Elain. There is nothing wrong with fucking, obviously, but that's not love. (Maybe I should fully compare them idk.)

It's when we look at everything he doesn't say in conjunction with how he treats Elain and Mor in other scenarios... that's troubling. People can misread our 😬 at his behavior all they want, but the fact is that Az didn't have a single kind, original thought about who Elain is. His POV gave us zero extra insight into who Elain is as a person, which is... startling, if we are supposed to think that they know one another so incredibly well and have such intense feelings for each other. Why would we not get additional insight into her character? We get a lot of insight into Az's character for sure. But following his POV, if he loves and knows this woman so well, we should feel that. We should know why he loves her, what he knows about her, we should... just get some more damn insight into her character, if we are in the POV of someone who supposedly knows her so well!!!!

You know it's funny though, because the Az and Elain interaction in his POV mirrors when Nesta imagined a threesome with Az and Cassian. Close, and potentially pretty hot, but it never really happened because then it would mess up sjm's plans for the future.

Okay now to your ACTUAL questions haha and not just my reactions to what you said.

I agree that romanticizing Azriel's behaviors is the better option for people who ship it because otherwise the alternative is to accept them for what they are, which is not about Elain at all. Az has an even longer history of being all "mate behavior" on Mor, but no one thinks that's odd? I think that some people pick and choose their evidence, which is a big reason why I keep shoving Mor into these conversations. If the "mate behavior" argument was genuine and had a solid foundation, then the people making these claims would still ship moriel.

The whole thing with Az and Tamlin comparisons.... oh boy. I think there is a lot there.

I think that people don't want to see Az as anything less than perfect sad boi that Elain can fix with her love.

I think that people have a difficult time seeing emotional abuse IRL, to the point where even people who experience it directly struggle to come to terms with it, so why would we willingly embrace its presence in fiction? It also flirts with a lot of the ideas you mentioned being present in a lot of romance, though I'd argue a lot of those elements are becoming passé.

I think that Tamlin is Fandom Enemy Number One while Azriel is Self-insert Book Boyfriend Number One, and maybe people don't know how to reconcile those things. (This is quite literally true, I checked AO3 for reader fanfics and compared numbers between the bat boys, Az/reader fics win by a landslide.)

There also seems to be a refusal to see or accept nuance. I'm not even talking about moral complexity because I don't think that either Tamlin or Az intend to behave the way they do. They aren't villains. It just reminds me of people who somehow don't think Nesta was absolutely horrible through much of the series, even though a huge focus of her arc in acosf was coming to terms with how she had treated people. Anyway...

People see "gwynriel shipper" or "elucien 💕" in a bio and just dismiss arguments before trying to understand them

People try to justify their actions of their faves, which I understand!

People don't understand how subtle emotional abuse can be, and how there doesn't have to be clear intention.

I still plan on pulling out evidence from the book about times when their behaviors mirror one another. But it's like I've said for months - Tamlin is a cautionary tale. I don't think Azriel will go that far, but the foundation is there. The fact that acotar/acomaf was so, so explicit about how Tamlin's behavior was not okay, and yet people can see that same behavior in another character one book later and want to try to excuse it... sigh. Way to miss the point, fandom.

[julemmaes]

drivers license

Nesta Archeron x Cassian modern au

A/N: I didn’t think I would actually ever end this. When the song came out I knew I just had to write something for Nessian, so here it is. I gotta warn you tho, that this has a large backstory and that it’s pure angst.

warnings: abusive relationship, mentions of death, car accident

I’d like to dedicate this to my sweet and kind friend Dani, who can go fuck herself for making me cry while I was translating this and had NO RIGHT to do so. I hope you cry yourself to sleep with this one:)

Also, Sayo, Maizie, this has an open ending, it was the best I could do, sorry

Word count: 8,550

three years, four months and twelve days before

Tomas burst out laughing beside her, "Why on earth would you get a license?" he asked looking at her, "I can take you anywhere, you just call me."

Nesta huffed, putting her hands between her thighs to warm up against the freezing cold, "Because I can't always depend on you, Tommy." she leaned forward into the small cockpit to pick up the bag at her feet, "Plus, if I got my license, you wouldn't have to drive all these extra kilometres every morning and I could go wherever I want when you're not around."

She pulled out her phone, checking the message from her sister Elain warning her that she would be staying at her friend Lucien's house. She shook her head. She couldn't understand how it was possible that they weren't together yet.

Looking up at her boyfriend, she knew she'd said the wrong things when Tomas rolled his eyes, moving his hand from her thigh and bringing it to the steering wheel, "And why would you ever go anywhere without me?"

It was her turn to roll her eyes, "I meant to go to the supermarket or the gym." then, she turned to face him, giving him a reassuring smile. She didn't want him to worry about her. "I don't like going to clubs at night, you know that. I wouldn't go anywhere like that without you, I know you're jealous."

At the time, the words had had positive connotations for Nesta. That overwhelming toxic feature of his character that he had always managed to sell her for something to hold on to like a precious treasure, "I'm jealous of you because you're mine, because I love you and I don't want anyone else to see you the way I do. You are only mine."

Nesta felt herself blush and looked out the window, "I love you, too."

"As you should," he flashed her an amused grin and his hand returned to her thigh, giving it a quick squeeze, "Now can you please drop this insane driving licence idea?"

She nodded, gritting her teeth. She didn't need her own car, she didn't need to move around on her own. Tomas was always available to take her wherever they went.

She relaxed against the seats, humming to the song that was playing from the radio and forced a tight smile on her lips, thanking life for finding a perfect soulmate for her.

If only she had known at that moment how effective his control over her was, she might have saved herself years of shock and pain.

three years and six days before

"Can you take me to Claire's bar before you go with the boys?" she asked wearily between the sheets.

Tomas had gotten up immediately after finishing and was already starting to get dressed. He had done it so quickly that when Nesta shifted her gaze to him, he already had his boxers and trousers on. "I can't." he simply replied, "And don't even think about getting a ride from your friends."

She groaned, pouting a little, "So I should just stay home and do nothing?"

He didn't even look at her as he slipped his shirt on, "I already told you, I don't like it when you ride with Emerie. That girl is a public menace and she can't drive at all."

She let herself fall backwards onto the bed, covering her bare breasts, "She doesn't drive that bad." she muttered.

Tomas scoffed, "But if she hit a pole last week."

Nesta chuckled, turning on her stomach and looking over her shoulder at him. He'd had asked her that morning if he could stop by before going to the bar with the boys, to hang out with her for a bit. They'd ended up in bed pretty much immediately - her family out with kin - and now, not even half an hour after he'd arrived, he was already leaving.

At the beginning of their relationship it had bothered her. The fact that he would go to her house for a quick fuck, during which she hardly ever finished, and then go out with his friends, leaving her at home. After a few months of being together, Nesta thought he was doing it so he wouldn't leave her alone all day. That he was doing it to show her that he could find some time to show her his love.

God how wrong she had been.

"What if I get the girls to come here?" she asked suddenly, when he was ready to leave.

Tomas sighed so loudly that Nesta wondered if he'd been breathless the whole time. When he looked at her, she knew she had angered him. He ran a hand over his face, looking into her eyes, "Why do you have to be like that? I asked you if you could please not go out with anyone tonight and you keep pushing and pushing." he exclaimed exasperated. Nesta immediately felt guilty, "If you care so much about seeing your friends, go out with them, but when they make you do something completely idiotic and stupid, don't come crying to me."

She shook her head, swallowing back tears at the tone of voice he used. He was right, why couldn't she stay home one night if he asked her without making too much fuss? Tomas had the right to ask her something like that and it seemed like she was just looking for an excuse to argue. She apologised, getting up to walk over to him and wrapped her arms around his body, kissing his taut jaw, "I'll stay home."

Tomas pushed her roughly away from him, planting a quick kiss on her cheek and leaving with a simple bye and Nesta was left alone that night. And the next one again and again, until Emerie stopped asking her out and the only times she could, was when Tomas was with her.

two years, nine months and twenty-six days before

Nesta's heart had stopped in her chest the second her father had called her from the emergency room.

Feyre had burst into tears when Elain, who had been beside her during the whole call, had warned her that their parents had been involved in a serious accident and that their mum was now fighting for her life in an operating room. Their dad hadn't gone into details, but he too was crying as he told her that it was something major and that they would have to hurry to get to the hospital.

Nesta hadn't thought two seconds about dialling Tomas' number and what she thought would be a short, hurried call had turned into a fifteen minute argument.

"I already told you I can't come, I'm at the arcade with my friends, call someone else," her boyfriend was telling her in an annoyed tone.

"Please," she breathed, "Please, Tommy, we have to go to the hospital. I don't know who else to call. The buses would take too long." tears flowed undisturbed down her cheeks, but her voice was controlled. She could hear Feyre in the other room crying in despair and Elain trying to calm her down in every way as Nesta tried to find a way to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

If only she hadn't let him talk her out of getting her license.

"Nesta, stop fucking bugging me, I said I can't. And the discussion is over."

She was about to retort that it was his fault, she was about to yell at him that he owed her, that he'd promised her that if she ever needed a ride, he'd be there for her, but the signal of the call ending rumbled through her phone and she screamed in frustration.

She couldn't call Emerie or Claire. She couldn't call anyone.

Tomas had made sure she had no one to call but him. And now Nesta was alone.

She had helped Feyre calm down, updated them on the situation and they had taken three buses, taking over an hour and a half to get to the hospital. And it didn't matter that they ran from each stop to the next. It didn't matter that they had prayed to every god in existence that their mother would be alive when they got there.

Because Adele Archeron was already dead.

two years, nine months and twenty-three days before

"Get out of my house!" cried Nesta, "Get out of my house and don't come back!"

Tomas was fuming with anger, his face flushed and the vein in his neck pulsing, "Nesta you need to calm down. You're not angry with me right now-"

"Yes, I fucking am!" she sobbed, throwing her arms in the air, "It's your fault!"

His gaze darkened, "It's not my fault your mother died," he whispered threateningly.

She shuddered as if he had struck her physically. She blinked, letting some tears fall, before whispering back, "Get out, Tomas, and never show your face again."

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, "And how are you going to do that without me, huh? How are you going to get around? How are you going to survive these days without me, without anyone?" he had moved so close that Nesta could feel his breath on her face, but she didn't pull away. He kept his gaze fixed in hers, "You're alone, can't you see that? You need me."

She held her breath, "I don't need you. I don't need anyone." she said through her teeth, lifting her chin up, "I'm going to get my license and I'll surely know how to take better care of my body than you ever did in our entire relationship."

When she saw that her words had the desired effect in the boy in front of her, who backed away a step and began breathing heavily, crossing his arms over his chest, she kept talking.

"That's what you've always been, a taxi driver and a sexual pastime," she spat at him.

Tomas remained silent, an angry grimace painted on his face. He turned to the door, grabbing the handle and then looked over his shoulder at her, a grin creeping over his face. "Have fun getting your license and dying like your mother."

And then Tomas disappeared and Nesta never saw him again.

one year, seven months and five days before

"Miss, are you okay?"

The driving instructor's hand rested on her shoulder and Nesta's head snapped in the direction of the woman next to her. She must have looked a lot more shocked than she thought because the woman cursed, "Honey, I don't think we should try to drive today."

Nesta wanted to nod, to tell her she was right, to yell that she couldn't do it. She didn't want to, didn't want to. She clenched her hands around the steering wheel, hoping to find a foothold, an anchor, something that would bind her to this world when her vision blurred and she felt her chest tighten.

She tried to breathe, but she couldn't get the air down, couldn't get her lungs to expand, couldn't-

"Girl, I think we'd better get out of the car," the woman murmured. She reached for the keyhole and slipped them out from under the steering wheel, keeping her gaze fixed on Nesta, who was struggling to focus more with each passing second. The instructor opened the door and walked around the car, opening hers, but Nesta couldn't move.

She closed her eyes, forcing her body to swallow oxygen before she passed out. When She did, the sound that came from her throat sounded like the one of an old man on the verge of death. She brought one hand to her chest, the other to her stomach when she felt she was going to be sick.

She unbuckled her seatbelt with some trouble with trembling hands, but as soon as she was free of the snake that was pinning her against the seat, she moved the woman who was now calling for help from other instructors and dropped to the ground on her knees, hurling up the lunch she had eaten a few hours before.

She didn't feel people's hands on her body as they helped her up, nor did she hear her father's voice asking what had happened. She didn't realise she was back home in her bed, didn't realise she had been there for days.

She could only imagine the fear and pain her mother must have felt the moment the car skidded on the ice and her father was no longer in control of the vehicle.

one year, five months and twenty-two days before

Nesta had taken some downers before going for her first drive. This time she had been confident that she would be able to drive for at least half an hour without any problems, that she would drive home in her own car, with her father beside her.

This had not been the case.

For the fourth time she had sat down, buckled her seat belt and done all the checks she had to do before starting, and then panic had taken over her body. It had assailed every fibre of her being and had squeezed her lungs and heart so tightly that Nesta had thought she was dying. She had jumped out of the car when she had felt the vehicle roar beneath her once she had turned the keys in the ignition and vomited again.

She would never be able to get her license.

the day

It had been almost three years since her mother had died. Almost three years since her problems had started, since she had realised what kind of person she was. What kind of person Tomas was.

She had spent the last three years of her life in panic, in pain. Every step she took, every word she said, every look she gave, cost her more than anything else.

Nesta wasn't living. This was not life.

She was convinced that her mother had taken her soul with her when she had left her.

Because Nesta was empty most of the time, drained of all emotion, completely anaesthetised and oblivious to the outside world around her at times. And then there were the moments, lasting seconds or moments or whole minutes of excruciating agony, when Nesta felt it all.

And that all threatened to crush her every time.

Feyre and Elain had somehow managed to overcome it. They had managed to go their separate ways and had left their sister behind, because she had wanted to be left behind.

And if Nesta had been lonely when no one had been able to take her to her dying mother, she had not yet known true solitude. Because when even your own family turned its back on you and left you alone to cry on the road of that path you were supposed to take together while you screamed and no one could hear you, only then would you look up and see Loneliness smiling at you as it held out its hand.

Now, sitting on the floor in one of the aisles of the university library, she was holding her head in her hands and trying not to fall asleep, with little result.

She had not slept that night, like the previous thousand, but unlike the other mornings, she had not been able to take her tablets and during the third lecture of the day she had risked falling asleep on the desk.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, opening them occasionally when she heard noises, but she must have fallen asleep completely at some point, because when she opened them again, her head was resting on the carpet and a hand was shaking her shoulder.

"Can you hear me?" a deep, concerned voice was asking. Nesta closed her eyes again and the grip on her shoulder tightened, "Can you hear me? Are you alright?" the boy demanded. She moved her lips, but no sound came out, "What an idiotic question, you're obviously not okay."

Nesta rolled onto her back, opening her eyes fully and looking up at the ceiling of the library. What was going on?

"Do you want me to go get someone, do you need me to call an ambulance?" the voice kept asking, sounding more and more concerned with each passing second. Nesta shifted her gaze to the person whose hand was on her shoulder and had started massaging it, applying pressure with its thumb. The movement harder than necessary, as if it was done to keep her awake.

The boy was handsome. Long hair held up in a tousled bun and the faint hint of a beard that hadn't been shaved in days covered the sculpted face of what might have looked like a Greek god. She couldn't reach his eyes that hers slowly closed.

Nesta was so tired.

"Hey, no no, open your eyes, stay awake," he shook her again, harder this time, and she groaned raising her left arm, "Sorry, I just need you to stay awake," he apologised, Nesta could hear the apprehension in his voice.

Why was he worried? He didn't know her.

"Can you tell me your name?"

She opened her mouth, trying to answer, but nothing came out and she looked up at him at that point. His dark eyes, a very common brown, stared at her glowing with emotion, but Nesta couldn't bring herself to care. She was having such a hard time staying awake, she just wanted to sleep, sleep, sleep.

"Alright, you don't have to answer, can you sit up?" he asked her then, after a minute of silence. She shook her head, letting it fall to the side, shifting her gaze to the floor again. He cursed and then removed his hand from Nesta's shoulder. "I'll call the ambulance."

Her eyes snapped to him so fast they sent a rush of pain through her brain. She moved her hand closer to him, resting it on his leg, and the boy snapped his head in her direction at the exact instant she sobbed and panic threatened to take control. She shook her head, taking short, laboured breaths, "No, no."

"Sweetheart I don't know what to do and I can't leave you here," he replied, putting the phone down and taking her hand in his. He glanced left and right, searching for anyone else. He sighed, returning his gaze to her, "If you can say a whole sentence without passing out and getting up I won't call 118. But, for all we both know, you could be having a stroke or a heart attack and we wouldn't know, and I'd rather you didn't die," he chuckled at the end of the monologue.

There was no trace of amusement in that sound though, nothing to suggest he was enjoying this.

Nesta tightened her fingers around his, "My name is Nesta."

She didn't know if she had spoken, maybe she had just thought she had, but the smile that appeared on his lips was answer enough to her doubts, "Nesta." he repeated, offering her a nod of his head, "I like that. My name is Cassian." he added. She didn't answer, but continued to stare at him.

"Can you by any chance tell me how old you are?" he asked after a while, arranging his bent legs underneath him.

Nesta sighed, closing her eyes, "Twenty-two."

Cassian gave her a little nudge with his knee, "Eyes open or I'll call an ambulance."

She obeyed, "How old are you?" she asked in a thin voice, so weak she was startled. She needed to sleep.

"I'll be twenty-four in a few days." he answered quickly, "Now a slightly more complex question, why did you faint?" he asked and the muscles around his mouth seemed to tense.

She shook her head, now much more aware of what was happening. Slowly she was returning to the world of the living. She removed her hand from Cassian's and felt as if he wanted to hold her for a moment, but he let go immediately and she thought she had imagined it. She pulled herself up into a seat, holding her head with her hands.

"I didn't pass out. I think I fell asleep," she replied, massaging her forehead. She grimaced and looked up at him.

The usual expression he'd had up to that point only seemed to grow worse and the worry doubled, "What do you mean you think you fell asleep?" then his brows knitted together and he leaned towards her, speaking in a lower voice, "I'm sorry if this seems a little inappropriate, but do you have a home?"

It took Nesta a while to realise what he was alluding to with those words, but when she did, she nodded, adding a faint, "I don't sleep."

His eyebrows shot up, "You don't sleep." it wasn't a question.

"I don't sleep." she repeated, resting one hand on one of the shelves and pulling herself up.

He nodded, looking up at her from below and pulling himself up in turn shortly after, ready to catch her if she fell to the floor one more time.

Nesta seemed to become aware of the situation they were in and felt her body stiffen suddenly and waited, waited for panic to assail her, for shame to take over. She waited to feel everything and too quickly, but her breathing did not change and her vision did not blur and Nesta thought she was dreaming at last, that she was sleeping so deeply that she could imagine a life where these things did not dominate her life.

When Cassian gave her a small smile, her heart missed a beat, "How are you feeling?"

She nodded and answered without thinking. Because everyone had been asking her the same thing for years. "Good."

He seemed to study her face for a few moments, then offered her an arm, turning to the strangely empty tables that stood in front of the entrance, "How about I buy you a coffee and then maybe take you to one of your friends?" he asked, "I don't want to intrude too much and ask if you want a ride home, but at least they could help you."

Nesta looked at him with a confused expression, "Home?"

The slightly more relieved expression that had begun to make its way onto his face fell away completely, replaced by an apologetic one, "Forgive me, I understood that-"

She quickly blocked him, "I have a home, I'm not homeless," he sighed, "But why would I want to go home?"

He looked at her as a second head had popped up on her shoulder, "Nesta," the way he said her name made her forget for a moment how messed up her life was, "you were sleeping on the floor of the library. You can't stay at the university, you risk accidentally falling asleep and hurting yourself. Are you narcoleptic?" he asked her suddenly.

She opened her eyes wide, linking her arm with his, "No." she whispered.

He chuckled, "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything, but it's not every day you find a pretty girl asleep on the floor. And I heard a thud, that's why I thought you fainted. I heard you fall," he glanced at her.

She still looked at him with wide eyes and didn't stop as he bent down to pick up her backpack and put it on his shoulder. Cassian turned another smile to her, "You there? Can you walk?"

She nodded and they spent the next few hours in the university cafeteria and sometimes Cassian would ask her questions that she couldn't answer, but he didn't force her to speak and seemed more than satisfied with the monosyllabic answers she gave him.

When she told him that she didn't know anyone there and that she didn't have a car to get home, he didn't comment on either, but offered to give her a ride and she accepted without hesitation.

And she accepted the next day when she met him after class on her way out of the chemistry building. And the next day when his car pulled up in front of the bus stop where she was waiting. And the next day again and again and again.

And suddenly Nesta was no longer alone.

three months and one day after

Cassian had been staring at her for so long that Nesta was beginning to wonder if he was dead. He sat so still, clutching the sandwich between his fingers as if the wind might have blown it away. She was also starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Not because her friend was staring at her, she was used to that, but because of the way he was doing it.

They had gone out for a walk in the mountains and had reached the top after more than four hours of hiking, but the landscape in front of them had erased any physical pain they had accumulated during the climb. They had sat on rocks at the summit and were now having lunch.

She was staring at the mouth of the Sidra, the point where the sea was darkest, but she couldn't chew with him looking at her as if she would erupt at any moment.

"For God's sake Cassian, what is it?" she asked exasperated at one point, fixing her eyes on him.

He didn't answer, but took a bite of his sandwich, furrowing his brow even more.

Nesta shook her head, urging him to speak. She huffed, pointing to the ravine below them with one hand, "I'll jump if you don't tell me why the fuck you look like a failed stalker."

Cassian chuckled at that, finally looking away and Nesta let go of a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"I wanted to ask you something," he began, shifting his eyes to the landscape, "But first you have to promise me you won't jump."

Nesta looked at him sideways, "That depends."

He opened his eyes wide, laughing, "Then no, I won't tell you what I'm thinking about."

She rolled her eyes, huffing, but let it go. She was used to this kind of conversation with Cassian by now.

"Okay, I'll ask," he said suddenly, startling her. Normally he would have laughed at having managed to provoke such an overt reaction in her, but he didn't and it made her worry even more, "But if you don't want to answer you don't have to and we can shut up or change the subject."

"If you put it that way, I'm already telling you I don't want to talk about it," she pointed out.

It was true. Cassian had gotten to know her in such a short time that it had shocked her at first. She still didn't understand why, not fully, but he had stayed and was still there and didn't seem to want to leave anytime soon.

He sighed, completely ignoring her comment, "Why is it that every time we drive it feels like someone is holding a gun to your head? What is it that scares you?" he asked to introduce the topic, "If I'm driving too fast or if it's something I do, you can tell me."

Nesta looked at him. She looked at him and didn't say anything and he understood she wasn't going to answer, not at that moment at least, and they stayed in that spot on the summit for another hour in silence. Where she had time to think, to reason about how important Cassian actually was to her. About how much Cassian had done in such a short time, to bring her back to life.

They had just arrived at the car park, were stamping their feet on the asphalt to remove the excess mud under their shoes, when Nesta looked at the car door and stiffened. She felt his gaze on her body again, but she took a breath and got into the car, sitting down and letting the fear fade, letting the storm inside of her settle.

They were going to face a couple of hours' drive back to the city, more than enough time for her to be able to tell him-

"My mum died. In a car accident." she said in one breath as Cassian took a seat next to her.

His hands stopped around the steering wheel, tightening. He slowly turned to her, nodding slowly, "Yeah, I figured as much. I just didn't know how." she closed and opened her fists, keeping her gaze fixed in front of her. She took a deep breath and Cassian placed a hand on hers, "We don't have to talk about it now. But thank you for telling me, for trusting me."

She bowed her head, "If I don't do this now I might never do it again," she murmured.

"Okay," he indulged her, then intertwined their fingers, "I'll wait for you though, I don't want you to tell me this very second."

Nesta sighed, closing her eyes, "Alright."

"Alright." he repeated.

Twenty minutes passed before she managed to open her mouth again, "You know Tomas?" she asked, despite knowing full well that he had a clear and precise picture and idea of who the boy in question was. They had already talked about him several times.

Cassian just nodded, but Nesta didn't fail to notice that the muscles in his arm twitched.

"You already know how... complicated our relationship was," she murmured.

He scoffed, "Complicated is not the word I would use to describe your relationship." when she shot him a look, he turned red, "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt." he said settling back in his seat, "Please continue."

She straightened her back, "The day my mother died, I called Tomas."

"Of course," he replied, and there was no trace of sarcasm, Nesta noted, because anyone would have called their boyfriend at a similar time. He shifted his gaze to the mirror, slowing the car and moving into the right lane, letting a car that Nesta had noticed had been on his heels for a few minutes pass him. It had stressed her out more than she'd imagined, because once it had passed them, she was just a bit calmer.

"We didn't know how to get to the hospital and my dad couldn't pick us up. I asked him to take me there and he didn't, because he was out with some friends of his," she confessed, furrowing her brow, "I realised that day how much Tomas controlled my life. I realised that I had lost everyone because of him and how now I wouldn't be able to say goodbye to my mother because I didn't have a driving licence and I wouldn't be able to get there in time."

She felt emotion rise in her throat, but nothing like she had felt every time she thought about that day. And maybe it was because she was getting over it, maybe it was because of his hand on her leg moving his fingers to soothe her, she didn't know.

"There were months after Mum died when I couldn't even get into cars," she continued in a weak voice, "I only managed to do it after seven months, because we had to go on holiday and my dad didn't want to leave me home alone. He was afraid I might do something... reckless." she paused as they both assimilated the true meaning of those words and Cassian squeezed her leg, taking a deep breath, "After that trip I managed to ride in the car, not with a few worries, but I did it."

"I'm glad you made it," he told her, keeping his gaze fixed on the road. She looked up at him, smiling faintly and was surprised by that gesture. She didn't think she'd ever be able to talk about her mother without bursting into tears and yet here she was, smiling at her best friend.

"Me too," she said, "you may be less happy to hear this part."

"I'm sure I won't blame you for it, whatever it is," he said softly.

Nesta looked at him and couldn't find any indication that he was lying to her, so she continued, "The last time I saw Tomas, he wished I would die in the car like my mother had, three days after her death."

Cassian's head snapped towards her, his eyes wide and his lips parted slightly. He returned his gaze to the road immediately, seeing how Nesta had begun to shift her gaze from him to the road, but the shock in his features didn't seem to go away, "Please tell me you're joking."

She continued, without giving him an answer, "Since that day, every time I've tried to get behind the wheel, every time I've gone to driving school so I could learn, I've had a panic attack." she said, torturing the inside of her cheek, "A few times I've ended up throwing up everything in my body and I've never been able to do more than start the car. I've never been able to get my license and I have no idea how my sisters put up with it," she concluded.

Cassian remained silent for so long that Nesta began to think the worst. Maybe she had been wrong to tell him, maybe she had gone too far. Her father had told her once, that she tended to say too little or too much, there was no middle ground with her. Maybe she'd shared too much this time and now Cassian thought she was a fool and a coward. After all, it was only a matter of learning how to drive, even stupid people could do it and it certainly didn't take a degree-

"I don't know what you're thinking, but I can hear the gears in your brain moving and I know perfectly well it's not good," he said, squeezing her hand when she tried to pull away. He gave her a sincere look, "I'm sorry, Nesta," he whispered, "For everything you've been through and experienced. For not realising what the problem was sooner." then he grimaced, "I would have avoided doing two or three of the shits I did in the car when we first met, now I understand why you reacted the way you did." he said referring to when during the first few weeks he'd given her a ride home, he'd speeded at red lights or passed other cars on roads where they shouldn't have. "I'm sorry you had to have that asshole next to you. If I could just talk to him..." he trailed off, tensing his jaw. He breathed through his nose, watching her when they finally ended up on a straight bit of road.

His eyes blazed with a rage that Nesta had rarely seen in people, but there was more than that. Sadness, sorrow for the little girl she had been, for what had been taken from her. But not pity, never pity from the boy she had come to know and like, "I'm sorry."

seven months and fifteen days after

"Nesta breathe," Cassian was whispering to her, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hand, gripping the steering wheel in front of her.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head, trying to swallow air. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart about to explode in her chest.

"Yes, sweetheart, you need to breathe," he chuckled. The hand on her shoulder dropped lower, starting to caress her skin there, "Inhale." he whispered, inhaling through his nose, "Exhale," he blew the air out of his mouth. "Now together," he ordered her. When Nesta didn't, but only began to breathe more heavily, Cassian told her to open her eyes.

She opened her eyes wide, watching her boyfriend as he mimicked the air rushing in and out of her lungs with his hand, "Breathe with me," he told her with an encouraging smile. Nesta wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the next time he inhaled, she did so with him. And slowly, after a few minutes of Cassian whispering soft words of comfort and guiding her through the whole process, Nesta was able to regain full control of her body.

"Very good," he finally told her, leaving a kiss on her temple. She looked over the windscreen, "Are you ready? Do you remember everything you need to do?" he asked her, giving her more room to start, but still keeping a hand on her leg. She nodded, not speaking for fear of breaking the bubble she was in.

It had been a couple of months since Cassian had let her drive his car. Or rather, letting her have panic attacks in his car whenever Nesta thought she could make it.

And she had made it, a dozen times now. She never made it more than twenty metres before she'd slammed on the brakes and thrown herself out of the car to vomit, but the last two times she'd managed not to let the panic take her over and she'd managed not to lose control completely.

This time she felt she could do more. Cassian had positioned the car further back than usual in the car park of that abandoned neighborhood to see if she could turn when she got to the far end. She'd gone back and forth three times before, but the idea of having to turn put a different kind of fear into her.

"I got it." she muttered more to herself than to him.

She started the car, stepping on the accelerator and slowly lifting the one on the clutch pedal. The car started forward and Nesta let out a breath, feeling her heart beat in her throat.

"Slowly, like this..." murmured Cassian as they reached the end of the car park, "Now slow down a little and turn the steering wheel to the right, slowly," he explained to her. Nesta did exactly that and the car turned smoothly on the asphalt. She didn't even realise she had arrived on the opposite side of the car park until she had to turn again and again and she did it so many times that Cassian laughed beside her. When she decided she was tired and ready to get out and really breathe, she braked slowly, managing to stop without turning off the car. She turned the keys in the lock and then the car stopped roaring beneath her.

She turned to her boyfriend, a smile going from ear to ear, and whispered, "I did it." a laugh escaped her control.

Cassian did the same, nodding, "You did it!"

They both jumped in, banging their heads against each other's and burst out laughing, but the fun was short-lived as Cassian slid a hand to the back of her head and pulled her against him, kissing her and conveying all the love and pride he was feeling at that moment.

They had swapped places soon after and he had driven her home. Nesta had been about to ask him if he wanted to come in - by now her family was used to seeing him in the house around the clock, being that they'd been together for a couple of months - but his phone had rung.

"Mor?"

At the blonde girl's name, Nesta had felt that tinge of jealousy rise in her stomach.

Cassian had frowned, "Calm down, calm down, I can be there in a moment. Are you at your father's or your mother's?" he had glanced at Nesta letting her know he wasn't going to stop and she had smiled, leaning over to him and leaving a light kiss on his lips.

Mor always called at the most inopportune times and Cassian, no matter where they were or what they were doing, would drop everything, take Nesta home and run to her friend's house to help her with whatever problems she was having.

Before he darted off her street, he had promised her that he would call her that night when he got back home, but Nesta knew that wasn't going to happen. That's why she wasn't disappointed when she waited until midnight for his call and it didn't come, and then one o'clock and two o'clock, until sleep claimed her and she surrendered to it.

ten months, two weeks and eleven days after

"Are you serious?" asked Nesta, letting her hands fall from Cassian's face down her sides.

His silence let her know that yes, he was serious and that yes, he would leave in the middle of... what they were doing.

"Cassian this has to stop, it can't go on like this forever," she murmured, turning to pick up her shirt on the floor. When she turned back around, he was adjusting his crotch with a grimace on his face and Nesta had to call on all her strength not to yell at him.

"Nes, sweetheart," he began, with that hangdog expression he always had whenever they discussed this matter.

She lifted a hand to stop him, fixing her icy eyes in his dark ones, "I don't care to hear yet another excuse." she said through her teeth, tucking her shirt in and covering her naked body, "It's been months, months Cassian, that every time she calls you, for whatever reason, you just grab your shit and go and refuse to give me any real explanations." she hated the way her voice sounded, but she couldn't help it. He had stopped himself from dressing and was watching her carefully. "I understand that Morrigan may have some personal issues, I don't need to know what it is, but why she needs you, every time something happens to her, is something that doesn't sit well with me."

He sighed, running a hand over his face, "I need you to trust me, Nes," he reached out to her, taking a thin hand between his large, warm ones. Hands in which Nesta had found comfort over the past year. His eyes sparkled with love as they settled on her face, "I need you to trust me."

Nesta breathed softly, squinting her eyes, "I do trust you, Cass, but-"

"Then that's enough," he interjected, squeezing her hand. He leaned down to kiss her and she bent her head back, taking in the love she craved every second of her day. When he pulled away it was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over her, "I love you," he whispered.

He left the house without saying goodbye and Nesta was left alone in her room, her head still bent back and the phantom touch of his lips on hers.

one year, four months and eight days after

Their anniversary was just around the corner and Nesta couldn't have been happier.

Or so she pretended to be.

The last three months had been agonising.

Between her and Cassian things were flowing well. She could get into the car and have almost no reaction, and she could certainly now turn the steering wheel left and right and go more than fifty metres in reverse without skidding. Cassian had almost finished his classes and only had a couple of exams left before he could graduate and she was so proud. She had spent Christmas with him and his adoptive family and had had the pleasure of meeting his brothers, who had lived in another country for the last two years and planned to return to Velaris for good after New Year's Eve. She had never seen him so happy as when she had gone with him to the airport to pick up Azriel and Rhysand.

Nesta's only big, fat problem was a certain blonde girl.

Morrigan had managed to become so entrenched in their relationship that she sometimes didn't even realize it anymore. It was like having a daughter who needed attention every four hours or she would die.

Nesta was sorry that the girl was so miserable that she needed someone by her side so often, but it drove her insane that this person had to be her boyfriend. Especially when it affected the relationship and the dynamics between them.

Cassian was sometimes so tired that he would fall asleep in the middle of class and quite often Nesta had joked that she was the one who never slept, hoping to get the truth out of him once and for all, but she had never got anywhere.

However, when Nesta had snapped and he had tried to pin the blame on her, she had sent him away and explicitly told him it was over. Cassian had looked at her with his mouth wide open, had tried to apologise, blaming it on the lack of sleep, exhaustion, but they both knew it was all his fault.

She'd been sick for days on end, terrified that she'd lost yet another person in her life, but on the sixth day Cassian had come to her house and asked if they could go for a ride.

They had been out till four in the morning, laughing in the traffic, shouting the songs. He'd made love to her in that car, which was just a car like any other as much as it meant everything to the two of them. It had been the place where Nesta had learned to trust him, where she had confessed to him her every doubt, her every fear. It had been on those seats where they had first declared their love for each other.

He had sung her a song by John Legend, a song that promised eternal love even through the ups and downs of a relationship. He had promised her that he would stand by her even when no one else would. He had apologised to her for all the times he had run to Mor and promised her that it would never happen again.

If only Nesta hadn't believed him.

one year, four months and twenty-one days after

She opened her eyes the second the mattress moved beneath her, warning her that Cassian had woken up and was getting up. She smiled into the pillow, ready to roll over and pull him back down into the covers with her, but when she saw the time on the alarm clock placed on her nightstand, she found a very bad feeling twisting her gut.

She turned to her boyfriend, watching him as he moved stealthily around the room, picking up his clothes. When their eyes met, Nesta already knew what was going on. Cassian looked at her carefully and made to open his mouth, justifying why she was sneaking out of her house at 3:27am, but Nesta shook her head, bringing the blankets up to her chin and murmuring loudly enough that he could hear her, she said, "Get out and don't come back."

And Cassian did.

one year, six months and one week after

Nesta had woken up that morning with a dry throat. She'd gotten up, washed and dressed, and got into her car, driving out of the Archeron's driveway without so much as a hint of panic. She had driven for hours, dulled by pain and sorrow. When her mother had told her when she was sixteen that heartbreak wasn't easily mended, Nesta hadn't believed her. How was it possible for a person to be so foolishly taken in by someone that they felt so bad when they left you? It was too idiotic a concept for her to comprehend. She would never let someone get so attached to her that she would rip a piece of her heart out when they left.

God how wrong she'd been.

She hadn't seen Cassian in over a month and each day seemed worse than the last.

It was a different pain from the one she'd felt when her mother had died, but no less strong. No less heartbreaking.

She'd gotten her license only a week before and had driven so many hours since she'd had that stupid piece of paper in her hands.

Cassian had known. Cassian had known that she was going to have her driving test that day. He should have known she'd managed to pass it. It couldn't be any other way.

And she had hoped with every ounce of her being that he would text her. That he would call her and tell her how proud he was of her. Because Nesta hadn't cared about other people.

She hadn't cared that her sisters had prepared a dinner in her honour and that her father had almost cried when she announced that she had made it. She hadn't cared that her friends, the old ones she'd managed to regain and the new ones she'd met over the months, had been so happy for her that they'd given her half the gadgets that now hung in her car.

She hadn't cared about anything except what Cassian would think about seeing her driving the car alone, without his hand on her leg.

She'd driven past his house so many times, crying silently.

She'd visited all the places they'd been, that he'd taken her to when she'd been on the verge of breaking down each time.

Cassian had known her like no one else ever had, and that would never change.

Her mother had even told her once that breakups were easier when they happened because people stopped being in love. Nesta hadn't believed that either. Because how could it be less painful when you stopped loving someone, compared to when they wronged you and gave you a reason to leave? How could it be less painful when every little thing the other person did was no longer nice or lovable, but unbearable and irritating?

But Nesta hadn't stopped loving Cassian and never would. She hadn't stopped feeling the butterflies in her stomach fluttering every time he smiled at her when she woke up in the morning. She hadn't stopped loving the way he tied his hair back with whatever was in his hands in that moment. She hadn't stopped loving the way the lines of his tattoos coiled around his arms, his pecs.

She didn't realise she was heading for his house again, but when she found herself in front of it, she didn't carry on as she always did, she turned off the car and got out.

She was looking at the sidewalk, hesitant to take a step forward or get back in the car and run, never to return. To leave Velaris, to leave her mother and her family, to leave the university and rebuild her life in a city that wasn't made of memories and ghosts that haunted her everywhere she went.

Leaving Cassian.

She looked up at the house then, and took a breath. Two. Three.

Breathe with me, he'd told her.

You are not alone.

I love you.

Nesta, you're my soulmate.

One day I'll marry you.

You'll be the mother of my children.

There's no one else for me.

I'm sorry.

I don't know what I would do if you left.

Nesta took another steadying breath and stepped forward.

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[hacawijo]

Oh YEAH 😂 We’re Allowed to Just Support Our Ships Because We Like Them (Or, some reasons why I WANT Elriel to be endgame)

Tagging alternate ships because I want to hear from others why they love the ships they love!

Last night I asked myself a question I haven’t asked about a ship in a really long time: Why do I ship it (Elriel)? 

I think that fans and shippers get so mired in evidence and proving that something will or won’t happen that we forget to sometimes just think about why we are in fact so passionate about the ships we like. Don’t get me wrong, I love evidence and theory and proof and close-reading posts - I’ve made a bunch, I’ll continue to make them, and I love reading them - but I’ve forgotten that it doesn’t always have to be about proving myself right or others wrong or about the great conversations/debates I have with other respectful, whip-smart shippers. 

So, this post isn’t really about why I THINK Elriel will happen, it’s about why I WANT Elriel to happen. And I would love to hear the same from others about their own ships (Elriel, Gwynriel, Elucien, Vucien, or otherwise!).

1. As far as I can tell, it’s what the characters want. I really love Elain and Azriel. I think that Elain is different from pretty much every other Maas heroine and I’m always interested to see how she reacts to things. I also admire that she embraces small acts of kindness and thoughtfulness over grand gestures. I think that Elain’s love language is often thankless, and that’s something I want to learn more about. I also love Azriel. I especially love his relationships with Feyre and Nesta, and that, similarly to how I feel about Elain, I’m never exactly sure how he will react to something. 

Setting aside those things, and many other little bursts of personality and character that I’ve enjoyed, I also think that both Elain and Azriel have suffered greatly in their lives, and I just want them to be happy. From everything I’ve read, it seems like the thing that is going to make both of them happy is if they are able to spend their lives together as partners. 

Don’t get me wrong, I deeply care about Lucien and Gwyn as well (more thoughts on their characters in other posts will be coming). I want Lucien to be chosen and to feel valued and essential to another person’s life, and I want him to have a real home. I want Gwyn to continue to have agency over her life and claim the things she wants to claim (whether they be skills or friendships or recognition or what-have-you). But, as I see it, the scenario in which the most characters whom I love will be happy in the longterm is if Elain and Azriel are together. Which leads me to number...

2. I want Lucien and Gwyn to have their own stories, and as it stands right now, there is no way for Elucien or Gwynriel not to have a bunch of space taken up by Elriel. Angst has been established and it will need to be resolved before any endgames beside Elriel can happen. I don’t want the first half of Elucien or Gwynriel’s story to low-key be about Azriel and Elain. I want Gwyn to avoid that car crash altogether and have something totally new and her own. Obviously it’s more complicated for Lucien - he will be involved in Elriel no matter what because he is Elain’s mate. But from what I can tell, Elain just doesn’t want to be with him, and I don’t believe that Lucien wants someone who doesn’t want to be with him (again, I’m not trying to prove anything in THIS post, this is just what I think based on my readings of the books 🙃). 

What’s more, I’m definitely not convinced that Lucien has any feelings for Elain beyond the mating bond - I don’t think they’re compatible. I think Lucien is good at talking to and figuring people out and that he likes to banter and flirt and be in the middle of things. I think it’s possible that pre-cauldron Elain could have vibed with that, but post-cauldron Elain is a different person. She is often content to listen and love and take up her own little corner of the world (and it’s not just being meek, she stands up to Nesta and PROTECTS that little corner of the world when it is threatened both then and when it comes to danger from outside forces). I just think Elain and Lucien would each be happier with someone else, and I think that Elain’s choice should be respected, and it’s pretty clear to me that she’s choosing Azriel right now.

You might be saying that Feysand’s early life was steeped in the angst and  resolution of Tamlin and Feyre’s relationship, but here’s why it seems different to me. Feyre and Rhys’s relationship felt so separate from Feyre’s relationship with Tamlin because he was an antagonist in that story. In this case, any kind of love triangle/rhombus/word cloud is going to be tangled and far messier because all of the characters involved are beloved. And, Feysand had 2.5 whole books to build their story - whichever of the couples I’ve just talked about that end up endgame will pretty much only have one book and second- and third-hand hints that range from fairly numerous (Elriel) to hardly developed at all. 

3. I want a love that flies in the face of the mating bond. I’m kind of over the mating bond thing. I think that I loved Feysand because Rhys and Feyre grew to love each other alongside their bond. Feyre fell in love with Rhys without knowing that she was his mate, and the mating bond was like a fulfillment of that love, that love was not really a fulfillment of the mating bond. Cassian and Nesta actually feels like a much more traditional mating bond story, in that they were deeply connected from minute one. The angst in that relationship came from Nesta’s inner turmoil and need for growth and independence to know and accept herself.

I’m ready for a bond that doesn’t work! I’m ready for some great people (who are apparently very different from a lot of previous nobility and significant figures in the courts of Prythian when it comes to respecting agency and being kind) who don’t let the cauldron dictate their lives to them. I don’t want to watch Lucien and Elain succumb to the bond, and I don’t really want Azriel to be chosen because of a mating bond with Gwyn. I want him to be chosen above a mating bond. And I want Elain to do the choosing! 

4. I want to see Elriel because I think a relationship between them would be wholly different from Feysand and Nessian - and I don’t think that’s as true with Elucien and Gwynriel. I think that Lucien is more similar to Rhys and Cassian attitude-wise than Azriel and I think that Gwyn is more similar to Feyre and Nesta attitude-wise than Elain. I want to read about a love between two people who aren’t sassy and flirty and bold. Not that I don’t LOVE those ships as well, but I like it when Sarah does something a little different. Elorcan, for example, is one of my absolute favorite ships of all-time partially because it feels totally different from everything else in Throne of Glass (albeit in a different way). 

I want to see how someone as kind and thoughtful and modest and romantic as Elain handles her intense lust and the massive potential for conflict and harm in pursuing a relationship with Azriel (and to be clear I don’t want to see her treat Lucien like trash, I want to see her use strengths that belong only to her to prevent harm that might have otherwise occurred if the bond was between Lucien and another). I want to see how someone as closed-off, controlled, cynical, and often melancholy as Azriel handles desire that contradicts his loyalties and the qualities on which he prides himself, and how he handles someone who sees him- really sees him, and just makes him un-complicatedly happy. 

5. Also, as I said,  I’m not going to get far into evidence or proof, but I do think the bread crumbs are pointing toward Elriel, and I do like to be right lol

Thank you for reading, as always I want comments and dialogue and thank you for being fans of these books with me!

[rufousnmacska]

I have a lot of thoughts about A Court of Silver Flames, and since it helps me to write them out, I thought I’d share.

It’s behind a cut because SPOILERS and it’s long lol!

Nesta

I had expected we’d learn that Nesta had suffered some type of abuse or trauma as a child that Elain and Feyre were not aware of. I wasn’t expecting it to be so subtle, for lack of a better word. Abuse comes in a lot of forms, which I think SJM is good at showing. Emotionally manipulating your daughter for power, ignoring her in favor of your business and money … those may not be as visible as physical or verbal abuse, but they still cause damage.

I’m not sure how to convey it properly, but I thought it was important to show how the parts of her that were born from the abuse and trauma, while dark or not always healthy, were still useful. The wolf she became to survive her childhood helped her survive the cauldron. Not being able to “turn it off” is what hurt her. My favorite quote:

“So Nesta had become a wolf. Armed herself with invisible teeth and claws, and learned to strike faster, deeper, more lethally. Had relished it. But when the time came to put away the wolf, she’d found it had devoured her too.”

And as Amren said later “That’s the key isn’t it? To know the darkness will always remain, but how you choose to face it, handle it … that’s the important part. To not let it consume. To focus on the good, the things that fill you with wonder.”

I’ve seen a lot of fans upset that Nesta gave up her cauldron powers at the end to save Feyre and the baby. Although I’d initially hoped (post acofas) that her training would be more about her magic than physical training, I’m okay with how it worked out. She never wanted that power and she never liked having it. She stole it as revenge and she fought constantly to suppress it. Was she a badass when she wielded it? Absolutely! But ultimately, her giving it back was the final big step in her healing arc and acceptance of herself. (That doesn’t mean she’s “cured.” This will be an ongoing battle for her. I only mean this in terms of the story in this book.)

She chose to sacrifice it, unlike so many other times in her life when things were forced on her or happened to her. Unlike the future her mother had set out for her. Unlike when they were poor and her father did nothing to get them through. Unlike when she was thrown into the cauldron and then a war. Even unlike when she was forced to move into the House of the Wind, and her apartment – the one place she had chosen for herself no matter how run down it was – got demolished. I’m not going to go into the intervention too much. It was poorly done, but I doubt any of them had experience in doing one. A conversation acknowledging that might have been nice. And I’m not ignoring Feyre and Rhys’s hypocrisy of Nesta being confined to a place where she effectively had no way to leave on her own. The stairway at that point was not an option. But the bottom line is that Nesta needed help and was not in a position to willingly accept it or seek it out.

Regardless, she is still a lethal badass. She still has some of her powers, along with her fighting skills, which will only get better and better. So, the idea that she gave up what made her strong, or ended up as some meek housewife …  I don’t agree with that at all. She has the intelligence and potential to become a force in leading armies. Not to mention her skill as an emissary. (Which Cassian finally learned how to imitate lol!)

On a personal note, I’m intimately familiar with the depression and self-loathing Nesta experienced in this book. Although I don’t necessarily react to those feelings in the same ways or exhibit the same coping mechanisms (I tend to turn my anger inward rather than outward), I could still relate to her journey. Her stubbornness and feelings that she didn’t deserve love or anything good or kind were presented accurately in my opinion. Parts were hard for me to read because of that. But I loved that she was able to make her way through the pain and finally begin to accept and love herself. And I especially loved that she was helped not only by Cassian, but by her friendship with Emerie and Gwyn.

And the House! Holy shit. The magic houses in this world piss me off to no end because they are not real and I will forever need to clean my own place LOL! Her relationship with the house was beautiful and funny and I love that she Made it! She needed a friend, someone to understand her, not only what she wanted but what she needed, and boom! The House of the Wind came alive for her.

So, overall, I loved Nesta’s journey. I’m happy she ended in a place that brought her inner peace and the ability to better deal with her problems in the future.

 Nessian

I loved them before this book and I love them more after. The smut was a little shocking at first lol but I’ve read the Black Dagger Brotherhood books, which SJM loves, so really, it wasn’t that out there. I loved that Cassian showed that even with the mating bond, he could give Nesta space and freedom. In that respect, their relationship felt more mature to me than feysand. Their banter and the sexual tension was great! (The book is about a book.) They had some not great moments, as they have in past books. But those were realistic. People argue and say things they regret. But they also talk through it and apologize. This is a good time to point out – NOT ALL APOLOGIES INVOLVE EXPLICITLY SAYING I AM SORRY. There are other ways to show remorse and ask for forgiveness.

I don’t know if I had one favorite moment as there were quite a few. I think the most emotional for me was when they reached the lake. I know firsthand how difficult it is to speak aloud the things Nesta said. And I am also lucky to have people in my life who responded the way Cassian did – with love and support and kindness.

The nightmare scene, the prison scene, the dancing, the mating bond, Cassian turning the knife on himself … I loved them all!

The Valkyries

I fucking loved them! Gwyn and Emerie were absolute delights and I’m so glad Nesta made good friends of her own who she could be herself with. Their bonding over books, training, and their pasts was wonderful. Nesta urging them on and defending them from the Illyrians in the Blood Rite was a beautiful step in her healing. Before this book, I was hesitant about the foreshadowing that Nesta would take part in the Rite, fearing it would become some sort of white savior trope to help the female Illyrians. But I enjoyed the way it ended up happening. I know it seemed unrealistic for Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn to get that far against warriors who’d been training for years. But part of the point was the males were arrogant as fuck. They underestimated the trio, to their detriment. Nesta and her friends used cunning as much as strength and skill to get where they did.

And I loved the image of Emerie and Gwyn just sitting back, sipping tea and admiring the river after going through a week of pure hell and winning the Blood Rite.

I hope we get more of them all together in the next books.

ETA - I can’t believe I forgot! Gwyn writing their story because their stories deserve to be told 🥲💕

The sisters

Overall I liked how things turned out with them.

Elain is still a bit of a non-entity to me. I don’t feel like I really know anything about her. Which, to some extent, is the point I think. There will be a lot to reveal in her story and she has a shitload of healing to do. She may have the appearance of adjusting and fitting in, but I don’t buy it. Nesta telling Elain to fuck off was awesome and long overdue. But Elain was also right in pointing out how others treat her and the trauma she’s experienced. I think there is still more to be dealt with between these two in the next book.

Feyre and Nesta were the more interesting relationship to me. The eldest and the youngest tend to butt heads in my opinion (and personal experience). So I was glad they came to an understanding. And very glad that Feyre did not get angry with Nesta for telling her about the baby. Rhys deserved the wrath for that.

One thing I would have liked to see discussed was the role of their parents in their lives. Nesta holds a lot of guilt for how she reacted to their poverty and I think that is understandable. I think Elain does too. However, I do not think any of the sisters should harbor blame for what happened. Their father was responsible for them. Period. Even if he was physically unable to work or help around the house, he still could have been a father. Yes, Feyre stepped up and fed them. Nesta and Elain didn’t help. It was his role to make them. Not in an abusive way. But step up and tell Nesta and Elain to do something, whether it’s chop wood or gather food from the wild. I don’t know. In my opinion, it is wrong to place blame on young girls who had a parent that did nothing. His actions in acowar were noble, but they don’t erase his failures. That all of this was glossed over disappointed me. I think this was something Nesta needed to be told explicitly by both her sisters. She had things to apologize for and feel guilt for, but she was not the one who should have protected Feyre. All three of them should have been protected by their father.

 The Inner Circle

It’s kind of funny to me how blind they all are about each other. I don’t even know what else to say about their dysfunction.

Amren’s sudden desire for Rhys to become High King was weird, and though I should know better, I still really hope the series doesn’t end that way. The IC tends to have good intentions about things, but I don’t think they know how to handle a problem without some kind of force. And controlling all the other courts is not something that would happen easily, especially with perceived allies.

Amren and Mor thinking Nesta belonged or should be sent to the Court of Nightmares was a spectacularly shitty take. The lack of awareness and acknowledgement that Nesta was suffering from multiple traumas was just … unbelievable.

But considering how much this group does not see about each other, I guess it’s not a surprise. I don’t know how much is willful ignorance or just really, really poor people skills. I understand how this all makes for good angst and drama, I really do. But I’m just at the point where it’s grating. They need to sit the fuck down and talk to each other. It’s been five hundred years for fucks sake. 🤦🏻‍♀️😂

Rhys

Okay. I liked Rhys in acotar and acomaf. But the sparkly exterior wore off big time for me in acowar and acofas. I honestly could have done without him in this book. But I wasn’t foolish enough to expect him to not be in it. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that SJM has her favorites and Rhys is at the top of the list.

Having said that, he annoyed the shit out of me in this book. Someone really needs to explain to him that a choice between two awful things, one of which might be deadly, is not really a choice. I don’t have the energy for it, but better writers than me could write a thesis on the illusion of choice in these books. Which is, in my opinion, pretty clearly tied to the brand of feminism presented.

Not only is the choice given to Nesta at the beginning not a choice, Rhys doesn’t seem to consider Elain at all in his argument with Az. All other issues with that bonus chapter aside, he saw them. He saw the mutual attraction and consent. What happened to not forcing females to accept the mating bond? What happened to respecting her choice and autonomy? I considered the possibility that maybe since he knows Az, there’s a reason he thinks they wouldn’t work. But then, that pretty much flies out the window by him asking Az about Mor. Sure, Az is still hung up on Mor, but she is pretty fucking clear about her opinion.

The whole thing about not telling Feyre about the risky childbirth was awful. And not that I would expect it to happen, but not even mentioning abortion as an option was frustrating. That plot line was not good in any way. There were plenty of other things that could have gone wrong with the birth to push Nesta to act at the end. To be honest, the feysand dynamic is not great. While I appreciated her standing up to him about Nesta and other things, he very deliberately uses sex as a distraction to get out of arguments. Yet another way he never really seems to suffer consequences of bad behavior.  

I will say I was really glad he got the opportunity to experience the full trauma of what Nesta went through. And my petty ass loved him kneeling before her at the end!

Miscellaneous

Where was Illyria?? My one serious expectation for this book was that we’d learn more about Illyria and deal with the revolution that was hyped up in acofas. To be written off in one paragraph was disappointing. It makes me think that if we are to ever get more details about the Illyrians, it might be in Az’s story. It was mentioned a few times that he hates them (with good reason) and would wipe them off the map if it was up to him. So I’m guessing his arc will require him coming to terms with that.

Elriel-Elucien-Gwynriel

I’ve never been super invested in this story line but I admit I’ve leaned more towards Elriel in the past. Partly because I like some of the complementary symbolism associated with them, but mostly because I’d really like to see a story about rejection of the mating bond. Even with the extra chapters, I feel like we still don’t know much of anything about who Elain truly is. And the same can be said of Az. So, those chapters didn’t sway me that much. With the exception of Az interacting with Gwyn. I agree with a lot of others saying Az has a lot of work to do on himself before he can be with anyone. I think Elain and Gwyn also have a lot of healing to do. SJM can take this in so many directions that I just don’t know what to think.

I will say that originally I was expecting the next book to involve a love square of Elain, Az, Lucien, and Vassa, because I did see a connection between the last two. But now … Was Lucien annoyed by Jurian and Vassa because he’s jealous? Just annoyed? I don’t know. I still think Vassa will be in the next books if only because of Koschei. But I’m not so sure about her involvement with Lucien. I think we’ve got enough people in this love polygon lol! Jesus, what a mess. But maximum angst 😂

[vidalinav]

Nesta and Identity

The one thing I really really want to see but have so little hope for because honest to god I don’t know if I trust SJM as a serious writer anymore (I’m not going to lie--no hate to her, but... I’ll save that for the anons) is Nesta playing with her identity. Because I think everyone has that point of wanting to experiment because of this new found freedom or the lack of it. 

I want to see Nesta try on different clothes, some more scandalous, some more comfortable, some very bright and floral, some very plain and vintage, going through the “all black” phase, because she doesn’t know what she wants to be seen as. I want to see Nesta going through different hairstyles. Perhaps she doesn’t want to wear her hair up because it hurts her head with all the pins but she also doesn’t want it down because it gets in the way, so she tries different styles, because who the hell is she? We’ve all went through that “getting bangs” phase or you looking into the mirror and thinking something about you is off, that it needs to change, but you don’t know what it is so you just might change everything. I want to see her trying new jobs, learning new things and then quitting them, because they don’t suit her, because they were fun for a second, unfulfilling the next. I want to see her getting bored and really trying to learn about herself, which is a very difficult thing to do. 

But I also want to see this identity exploration, I should say, not a crisis, because, Nesta right now is only beginning to like who she is, and like the life that she has. And for a good portion of this book, she does hate herself, and she doesn’t really know what she wants. And I think it should be said that her life span is extremely long now in comparison to what she thought life would be. Is that freedom to her or a curse? Sometimes routines are comfortable. By 25 you get married, by 30 you have kids, by 35 blah blah. They’re monotonous but they’re comfortable. But is that what Nesta wants? We know she wants kids eventually, that she seems to be a homebody, and that she is comfortable with this relationship that she has with Cassian and is excited about that, and having you know a mating ceremony/wedding. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but Nesta is definitely not Feyre. Feyre acted like the mom character, the entire time. Her whole narrative was centered around taking care of people, and maybe not ruling, because she wasn’t Rhys. She was never stated to be this queenly figure, this person without outrageous ambitions, or being smarter than everyone. On a regular basis, she was painted as a very average character. If she fought, she didn’t fight as well as everyone else. When she learned to fly, she wasn’t gifted at it. On a regular day, she just wanted to paint, and hang out with her friends, and chill. She was never the one who outsmarted anyone in the room. She was average, which is perfectly fine. Average people can have adventures of course and can still be the hero, and I think there’s something to be said about someone relatively normal (besides you know all of the high lord powers) coming out as a heroin. But Nesta... is always depicted as this wolf trapped in a cage. Why wouldn’t fae life of monotony, unwritten social rules, long lives, titles, and obligation not be a cage in itself? The IC have their rules, their roles. The entire continent of Prythrian have traditions, and I don’t think Nesta is going to escape them being who she is. Blessed by the mother and the cauldron. 

So right now where we end, we see her with doors open, but let’s face it this is a girl who almost seems bigger than life. She may not want power to use it against people cruelly, but she has only just begun learning what she can do. Nesta hates everything she starts and then learns to love it, we see this. She doesn’t want to train, and then she excels at it. She doesn’t want to use her powers, and then she becomes all powerful, to the point where the power of the trove at least is somewhat tempting to use. And she’s so curious about everything. I would love to see more of that dark academia aspect, but also this part of her that is really good at “playing the game.” It would be so fun to watch Nesta struggle with wanting to be a “wife” and having this relationship and maybe wanting a simpler life, maybe wanting a regular job, keeping her job at the library, joining back into the Velaris every-day routine because it certainly took her a lot of healing to get to the point where she enjoys life again, but I also maybe want to see her getting bored eventually because she’s entirely too smart. I would love to see that narrative even in other POVs, where Nesta acts differently around specific people, because she doesn’t know who to be. I would love to see Rhys, Azriel, and Mor, notice the potential in her, Rhys more than anyone (maybe Amren too for world domination purposes) and seeing this really clever, witty woman come to life. I think it would be so interesting to see them being sort of pushy about her getting out there, and using her personality, her brain, to help them sign treaties or win over high lords and to scheme. But I would also love to see Nesta actively rejecting anything that has to do with it, because she doesn’t know if she wants that and she doesn’t want to be used, but she has to admit that it’s more fun than being home and doing nothing. And I think it would be very cool for Nesta to like that ugly part of herself. A lot of her narrative was framed in the way that her personality was ALL a coping mechanism, and to a certain extent it is and to a certain extent it’s not, realistically. She says that she hated the parts of herself that said such horrible things, but I would really love to see Nesta like that part of herself too, even the ugly parts, grow fond of it even, because she’s a complex character and people say shit to her all of the time, and sometimes people need a reality check and she’ll be more than happy to give it. I want to see that emotional struggle of being happy and acting happy and feeling fulfilled, to being angry and vindictive because the world is not nice and neither are the people in it. I want to see that back and forth of Nesta playing possibly an evil character and then being a good character, because that’s her whole narrative. She was the mean, bitchy sister who was villainized, and then she became the hero in some sense, and then she became the burden and was once again villainized, and then she became the hero. The whole entire ACOSF, they were going back and forth between is Nesta going to help or is she going to be a liability, should we trust her, can she handle this power, should she handle this power? So, I would love to keep this, where again I’ve said it in a post, I hope Nesta gets involved with Koschei, and not Elain, because I would love to keep seeing this. And this technically can happen by Nesta being antagonist to the whims of the IC, because you think they wouldn’t think bad of her if she disagreed? Every single one of them bows down, will Nesta, knowing what we know of her? Nesta is comparatively a Rhysand character, so... that’s not going to happen. 

And, I don't want to necessarily see the struggle between good and evil, where Nesta is completely and entirely a villain, because no one is wholly good and Nesta is moralistically better than most when it comes to the greater good. Plus I really hate that trope. I personally follow the Hayao Miyazaki approach, where the balance between good and evil should be preserved, not the fight against one or the other, which would be impossible and most definitely biased. But I want Nesta to seem like a villain again, to find that maybe being a villain is more freeing than being a hero, or at least very similar to how people treat her all through ACOSF. Because look at all the expectations they had of her, that everyone had of her, just by her having power even when she’d already helped them and tried her best, they were sinking their claws in deep. So can you imagine, her having power now and the IC having these expectations for her to help them? Will she? I don’t know. But I certainly want to see it and I want to see what Nesta becomes. Even Cassian says that Eris looked at her, “like he knew what Nesta might become with a little ambition. The right guidance.” Knowing what we know, isn’t that what the IC is going to try to do? So, I don’t think Angry Nesta has left the building. But I do think we have the potential to see so many more sides of her, while she creates and explores who she is. 

[regolithheart]

what do you think about the Nesta/Cassian/Mor conflict? also looking forward to your fics!!

Hi beautiful, sweet, innocent, Nonnie!!

Thank you for writing to me. Like I said, I could talk about Nessian all day and I am full. of. #thoughts. I could give you a short sweet answer, but it’s week six of quarantine, I had a brownie for dinner, and I don’t know what day it is. In the end, you’ll probably regret asking me, but lets just jump into it, shall we?

Unpopular opinion: I don’t like Rhys, Mor, or Feyre. So if you don’t want to hear what I have to say in regards to them, thanks for stopping by. No need to read further. 

I’ve never loved Feyre, but I think that has more to do with the fact that I just don’t like main characters in a series. Would I have preferred to read Hermione Granger and the Prisoner of Azkaban? You bet your ass. I also don’t like Rhys for the same reason, but also I dislike Rhys more than Feyre and for additional reasons which we will get to later.

I hate that I dislike Mor, because I loved her so much in ACoMaF and for a hot minute I shipped Mor and Azriel because I am a sucker for the unrequited love trope. A real sucker. And maybe, maybe I could have overlooked the retconning of her being a lesbian (yes, it was a retcon. Fight me.), if it weren’t for the fact that it makes her look really really bad and makes her treatment of Azriel even worse. I get it. I do. Her working through being okay with telling the others any of her business is part of her personal journey, but being honest to someone you claim to love about not being able to love them the way they hope to be is different than telling them you can’t be in a relationship because you prefer the opposite sex. Listen, I obviously have thoughts about this, but that’s not what the question was about so I’ll move on. 

Mor and Cassian’s relationship is a dangerous one. They both use each other as a crutch. From day one, Mor was using Cassian. Now, I don’t think she was doing it maliciously, but he appealed to her because he was already one of the most powerful Illyrians and a bastard to boot. Why do you think Mor chose Cassian and not Azriel? Sure, she wanted to own her own body. She wanted to decide who she gets to sleep with, but she decided she wanted to sleep with someone before going to the Autumn Court to stick it to Keir and the establishment. And what better way to stick it to them than to choose an Illyrian bastard. Because being the illegitimate son of an Illyrian lord is still ranked higher than being someone with no father and a dead mother. Mor knew exactly what she was doing when she chose Cassian. She is Rhys’ third-in-command for a reason. She aint no dumdum.

And for 500 years it was all good, right? Mor didn’t care who Cassian hooked up with because she knew they were no threat. But as soon as someone comes along that Cassian has feelings for, like true, legit, feelings, she cannot handle it. Because if she loses Cassian as a buffer then she really will have to be honest with Azriel (the horror). And so what does she do? She gets possessive. She outright hates Nesta and does not hold her feelings or tongue back. Now, some people are going to say that Nesta is the worst. She was horrible to Feyre growing up, she’s rude, she’s belligerent, and she can be a straight up bitch. Yeah. No argument there. We’ve all read the books. We have see the evidence throughout the whole entire series. But so is Rhys, so is Mor, so is Feyre, and Cassian and Amren. The only difference, is that a) they all have each other’s backs while no one has Nesta’s and b) we get to see everyone’s reasons and everyone’s POV except for Nesta’s. Feyre is an unreliable narrator, which is why I’m looking forward to seeing Cassian and Nesta away from Feyre in book 4 because I don’t trust her to tell me what’s going on for realsies. 

Honestly, the scene that made me straight up get so pissed at Mor was in ACoFaS when Nesta shows up to the Solstice party and Elain gives Nesta her present. All of Cassian’s attention is pointed to Nesta and what does Mor do? She forces Cassian to pay attention to her by choosing that exact moment to give him his Solstice present. Not any other time before or after when Cassian barely even glances Nesta’s way, but during the what, five seconds, he’s looking at her? PLEASE! It’s so passive aggressive and I hate it. I hate it!

I think the thing that bothers me the most abut Cassian and Mor’s relationship is that it really is just a miniature version of Cassian’s relationship with the Inner Circle in regards to Nesta. But really, when I say Inner Circle, I mean Rhys. I hate how Rhys treats Nesta, thinks of Nesta, and dismisses Nesta. Does he have his reasons? Sure. Are they valid reasons? He sure thinks they are, but like I said before, he’s no angel and we got to hear his full story so until we get Nesta’s full story then I don’t need my inbox blowing up. And honestly, if it turns out that Nesta really is as bad as everyone thinks she is, that’s still not going to change my opinion of her. I mean, why have you even read this far if you don’t like Nesta? Has anyone read this far, period? 

What I mean to say is that Cassian loves his family. He loves Nesta. The problem is that his family and Nesta don’t love each other and he will always feel torn apart over it. Cassian knows that Rhys hates Nesta. He can barely acknowledge her existence in front of Rhys and Azriel because they barely do. Yeah, his feelings are complicated right now. He’s hurt, and angry, and confused, and still loves her and can’t work out his feelings because he doesn’t have a safe place to do so. If there’s anyone he should feel comfortable going to to work out these feelings with, it’s Rhys, Az, and Mor but he can’t because he knows exactly how they feel about her, which is that they tolerate her at best. And even then, do they? 

I don’t want Cassian to feel like he has to choose between Nesta or his family, but as the situation stands, he probably does feel like that. I mean, who knows. Maybe he’s already chosen his family over Nesta. It’s not like she’s making an argument on her own behalf. But we know Cassian loves Nesta. Even if he’s annoyed with her, or mad, or frustrated with her, we know that he honest-to-the-Mother loves her. But until everyone can heal, and understand one another, and accept each other, it’s a lose-lose situation all around. Notice how I didn’t say love, or even like. 

Do I feel sorry for Cassian? Yes. Do I think he’s entirely faultless? Nope. Yes, he’s in a shitty situation, but honestly if he had a real conversation with Mor (and the Inner Circle) about his feelings about/for Nesta and confront her about her treatment of Nesta, he’d get different results. Do I think he’s terrified of having an actual, honest conversation? You betcha.

And yeah, we all know that Nesta isn’t making the situation any easier. But she’s hurt and suffering more than any of us really know. Do I think she's entirely blameless? Absolutely not. But I do feel that Rhys and Mor are extra judgmental of her because they already have their preconceived notions of her and anything she’s done contrary to that is ignored while everything she does that reiterates it is magnified. But here I am getting derailed again.

Nesta feels unloved. We can argue whether or not it is deserved another time, but the fact is that she feels unloved. Probably has always felt unloved. So every time Cassian choses to look at Mor instead of Nesta, it’s confirmation to her that she will never be anyone’s first choice. Look, the only man who said he loved her turned out to be abusive and assaulted her. And then when her father declares that he loves her, he gets murdered right in front of her eyes. Elain is the only other person Nesta knows loves her, and now she’s chosen Feyre and the Inner Circle over her (at least she has in Nesta’s eyes). You see where I’m going with this, right?

Except for the few dire times during the war--like when they’re legit in battle for their lives and emotions are running high--does Cassian let himself show Nesta that he cares for her. The only other times is when they’re by themselves. We know it’s because Cassian hides behind his bravado. But to Nesta, who probably has the worst opinion of herself, it probably means he’s ashamed to show it. Or he’s uncertain. I know we don’t have proof of this in the text, but I like to think I understand Nesta on a deep level, I can just imagine that’s how she’s feeling. Nesta pushes people away so that she doesn’t get disappointed when they decide to leave on their own accord. Nesta fought for Feyre, she fought for Elain, and she fought for Cassian. And in ACoFaS they all essentially turned their backs on her. And you wonder why she has so much rage in her frozen heart. 

TL;DR (not that I blame you): It’s complicated and it’s messy and everyone involved has contributed to it’s tangled mess of jealousy, insecurity, selfishness... but I also place more responsibility on the two 500-year-olds than I do on the 23-year-old. 

I’m really interested to see how it plays out in the next book(s), but I will tell you right now, I am on team Nesta Archeron and will be until my dying breath. 

Also, if you made it to the end...

[ladynestaarcheron]

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Seven

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti ​ @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical)

okay fam, I have only like 2 minutes to do this so not much time to talk but here you go! also I'm in the market for a beta so if you’re interested here’s some info on that.

October 23 - 4 years after

---

Cassian has spent the last two days apologizing for acting against Nesta’s wishes by obsessively asking her permission for things. She is grudgingly appreciative at first, but it quickly gets on her nerves. After the umpteenth time Cassian answers an innocent question from one of the children with, “Well, we have to ask Mummy first,” she snaps at him.

“Are you capable of following my ground rules and using your own discretion to decide when you need to check things with me?”

He pales the slightest. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

She bites her tongue. She never thought she’d get tired of hearing him say that.

“I’m irritating you further, I know. I just. I’m really...trying...not to screw up anymore here, Nesta,” he says, and his voice is pleading enough, she softens just a bit. “I don’t really trust my judgment.”

“You can’t be a parent if you don’t trust your judgement,” she says, and her words are harsh but her tone is not. “I don’t need another person to take care of.”

He nods. “Of course. I understand.”

He makes an effort to be more authoritative, she thinks, but he still glances at her every time before saying anything.

“And this bothers you?” Amorette says to her, sitting next to her on a bench at the park.

Nesta tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ears. She is watching them play with the children--one of them jumping out from behind a tree and chasing the others in turn. “Yes,” she says. “He’s a military general. He should be capable of...knowing what to do in regular domestic situations.”

“I would hardly classify this as a regular domestic situation,” Amorette says wryly.

“Well, it’s ours, and he’ll have to get used to it,” she says, stubborn. “I’m not asking for much here.”

“He doesn’t know how to be a parent,” she reminds her. “Patience. It’ll take time. He’s trying to do right by them while still doing right by you. That’s a lot to ask of anyone.” Amorette gives her a brief, teasing smile.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “He’s over five hundred years old. I’m sure he can handle it.”

“Is he really doing such a bad job?”

Nesta studies him, letting each child catch him in turn, ducking in and out of their reach. She’s angry and hurt and confused, but he’s the father of her children and they’re shrieking with joy. Even Ollie.

She can see Amorette smile a little in her periphery. “I think it’s a good thing. Is he staying long this time?”

“He has to leave later today.”

“How are you doing with that? These sporadic visits?”

“We’ve...yet to figure out an arrangement,” she says. “I have to stay here. He needs to stay there.”

“So you’re staying here, then?”

Nesta looks at her. “Of course I am.”

“Why do you think you need to stay here?”

“My whole life is here!”

“I’m not attacking,” Amorette says. “I’m only asking.”

Most of their conversations when they first met had gone this way: with Amorette trying to get to the bottom of Nesta’s emotions and thought process and her immediately going on the defensive. She thought she had gotten past that.

“I know,” she says, apologetic. “I...I have work here. The children have everything they know here. I have...friends here. And Zeyn,” she adds hurriedly.

Amorette is quiet for a minute. Then she says, “And those are enough to stay?”

Nesta leans back a little on the bench. “You know what it was like for me there,” she says. “I have a home here now.”

“You’re different. It would be different.”

“You want me to leave? You think I should go?”

“I think you should figure out what your long-term plan is, because I know you, and you’re going to lose your mind with him just coming by whenever it fits his schedule, however often that might be,” she says. “Work shouldn’t be what’s keeping you here.”

“I love my job.”

“There are book stores in Velaris.”

“This is the first place I made for myself. The first place I really was able to support myself.”

“I know that,” she says. “I watched you rebuild your life here.” In truth, she was a very big help in the process, but she is too kind to say so. “What was best for you and the children then might not be what is best for you now.”

“I can’t go to Velaris,” Nesta says. “You never saw me around them. I’m a different person here. I wouldn’t be a good mother.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” she says. “But I think you should consider your options. If this were me, I’d give myself a year or so to feel out what’s best, but you’re more time-pressed. I think you want to know for certain what your future holds.”

She is right about that. But Nesta can’t decide what she should do until she figures out what she wants.

She can’t hate him while watching him make her children laugh. But she is still angry--at him for showing up now, for not finding her then. Not for the first time, she wonders what would have happened if she came back to the Night Court and knocked on his door after finding out she was pregnant. And then she is angry at herself, too.

“What is best for the children...is me at my most functional,” she says, mostly to herself.

Amorette lets out a short chuckle. “I think you can go bigger than functional.”

“Then...whatever. My best. That’s here. With our routine.”

“You know better than anyone,” Amorette says. “But I still think you should seriously consider if you want them to have irregular visits with him or to live with you both. I don’t know which is better. Discuss it with Miri. Adil. Me, if you’d like. Him.”

She doesn’t mention Zeyn by name, but then she says, “Have you...talked?”

“Not yet,” Nesta says. She feels guilt clench her insides.

“I’m not sure how big a part of the equation he should be, Nesta,” she says.

Nesta is already shaking her head before she finishes her sentence. “You don’t know how much he’s given us.”

“I do. More than you asked for. But that’s the thing. You didn’t ask him. You know you’re not...what he imagines you to be.”

“You’re free the twenty-seventh of the month?” Nesta asks, firmly ending the discussion on the subject of Zeyn and Cassian.

Amorette nods, well-used to Nesta’s aversion to delving into topics she’s uncomfortable with. “Of course.”

“Seven?”

“Always.”

“Thank you,” she says, and means it. Of all the help she’s been given by the various people in Sugar Valley, Amorette’s help with the children at the end of each month is probably what she values most.

“Are you leaving now?” she asks her.

Nesta chews on her bottom lip as she overlooks Cassian and her children. “I’ll let them wear themselves out a little longer, I think.”

But even though they had been running around for well over an hour, she didn’t think any of them looked like they were even a little bit tired.

---

November 9- Year of

Emerie’s shop was not normally full of conversation, but the past few days had held only silence, except for talking to customers. Emerie did not apologize to Nesta and Nesta did not want  her to.

At first, because she was too angry to think about it, and if Emerie brought it up in conversation, then she would have to. And she certainly wasn’t going to forgive her, so there wasn’t any point in apologizing.

After a few days of that, Nesta decided that neither of them should bring it up because it didn’t matter. She didn’t care. Emerie probably didn’t care either; that was why she hadn’t made any effort to talk to her as well.

But then Nesta grudgingly came to the conclusion that perhaps her boss--and only companion who generally did not irritate her on sight--was not entirely in the wrong, and perhaps someone else would have appreciated her concern.

And perhaps it was the Solstice decorations she had begun to see hanging in the shops, or maybe it was that she had finally managed to read yesterday without her head aching...truth be told, Nesta wasn’t entirely sure what it was that possessed her to say, at the end of the work day, “You can come for dinner, if you want.”

Emerie, who was straightening out children’s coats, turned to her. “What did you say?” Disbelief colored her voice.

Nesta lifted her chin, ignoring the heat rushing to her cheeks. “I said you can come for dinner, if you want.”

Emerie raised an eyebrow.  “I heard you.”

Nesta sucked on her bottom lip for a moment. “He isn’t here. I was going to make stew.”

She wasn’t quite sure why she said that, too. She had never made stew before.

Emerie saw through her. “You don’t look like you eat much.”

“Forget it.” She shrugged her coat on. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“No, wait, Nesta,” Emerie said, and she started a little at the sound of her name. She had never heard her use it before. “I’ll come for dinner.”

Nesta made a non-committal sound as a response. “Come along, then.”

As they left the shop together, Nesta realized that it had been months since she had walked alongside another female.

---

November 1 - 1 year after

The Sugar Valley inn was so charming, Nesta couldn’t help but be suspicious. Especially when she saw the rest of the town: quiet, sleepy, like something from a storybook...it seemed unreal.

The similarities to the village Nesta’s family had lived in when they lost their fortune were numerous, but only on paper. It was eerie how different it was in practice.

Nothing ever happened in this town or in that village, but here, people still had a sense of purpose. It wasn’t about survival. And people smiled when they met others. Always. Every single time. Good mornings and How are yous and Come round for jams chorused in every direction.

Everyone knew everyone. That was how it was in small towns and villages alike. But everyone here seemed to care, too. They gossiped and chattered with everyone they met, all ridiculously involved in each other’s lives. Nesta didn’t think she had ever cared that much about the going-ons of others.

She had wandered around Ciyaluck for a few days, not quite sure of what her next plan was. The city was quite a shock to her after a year in the Illyrian mountains with only two people she spoke to, and she found she didn’t like it much. So she had gone to the City Offices and looked at a list of towns nearby, and found Sugar Valley on it. The name leaped out at her immediately because it seemed like the last place anyone would expect to find her.

But she had had enough of mountains, she decided. So the valley it would be.

There wasn’t much to explore in Sugar Valley. It was small, and after one lap around the town, Nesta knew where she wanted to work.

So she stepped into Sugar Books Manufacturing and Archiving.

There were too many books to look properly organized, which made her like it instantly. The shelves were overflowing, and perhaps that meant that no one in this town read, but she didn’t care. There would be more for her.

“Hello?” she called.

“Hello! I’m here, one moment, please!” The voice came from behind a door that said Employees only on it.

“All right, then,” she said to herself, and turned about the shelves.

She recognized some of the authors, but only from books she had read in the Night Court. Nothing a human had written. And most of them she didn’t recognize, some in a language she didn’t know, either. Gilameyvan, she assumed. She hadn’t realized the language was still heavily in use.

“Hello,” said the voice from earlier.

Nesta turned around. Her eyes widened slightly, and his did too. But he smiled where she pursed her lips.

He was lesser fae. Like a satyr, but instead of half-man half goat, he was half-man half-deer.

He was tall and thin. His skin was brown and spotted white, and his legs ended in hooves. His eyes were large and a warm brown, and they reminded her a bit of Elain’s. His hair was white, and on either side of the top of his head were two horns, curling a bit at the ends.

Nesta was used to seeing fae, but she had not seen so many who looked it. And she had seen very few who looked it and still looked...attractive...to her.

“You must be new in town,” he said, smiling at her. “I heard we had a new resident. You’re staying at the inn, yes?”

Nesta nodded. This town really did like to talk.

He extended an arm. “Zeynal Omarov,” he said, taking her hand. “Everyone calls me Zeyn.”

“Nesta,” she said, not offering anything else and taking her hand back.

“What can I help you with, Nesta?”

He smiled the whole time he was talking, just like everyone she had met here. “I want a job.”

His eyebrows rose a little. “Well...I’ll take you to Adil, then. Come with me.”

She followed him through the door with the Employees only sign on it.

“Adil,” he said, raising his voice a little. “There’s...someone here to see you.”

Adil didn’t answer. Zeyn stopped in front of a door marked Head Archivist and knocked. He repeated himself.

“Send them in.”

“Go on in,” he told her cheerfully. “And good luck!” He winked at her before leaving.

Nesta nodded at his retreating back and squaredherself. She opened  the door.

The room was small, and overly crammed with books. It was almost comical; piles upon piles everywhere. Even on the chair across from where he was sitting.

“Go on then, sit,” he said, not looking up from what he was reading.

“I’ll just move these over here, then,” she said, and then he picked up his head.

He blinked. “You’re not...from here.”

“I’ve just moved here,” she said.

“Where do you live?”

“I’m...staying at the inn.”

“Oh,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “I think I heard someone new was staying there.”

He didn’t smile the whole time he spoke, which was oddly comforting to her, and gave her enough confidence to say, “I want a job. Here.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “We’re not hiring.”

“I have bookkeeping experience. And I can clean. And organize. And...” her voice faltered. And I need a job. “And I love to read.”

Adil studied her. His eyes were nearly black, his skin a deep brown. He was someone Nesta might have mistaken for High Fae before she had learned the differences. Adil’s lips were blue and his ears were pointed, but flat against his head.

“You can organize?” he said finally.

“Yes,” she said immediately. “Just tell me your sorting system. Or if you don’t have one, I can create one. By genre and author. Or something else, if you’d like.”

“Genre and author is fine,” he said, waving a hand. “Have Zeyn introduce  you to Miri. She can help you get started.”

And he waved a hand again, shooing her out of the room.

She didn’t particularly care if it was rude. It wasn’t like she had a track record of being much more polite.

And she had a job. At a bookstore.

Nesta allowed herself a short grin before moving back into the front room to find Zeyn.

---

October 23 - 4 years later

The children are indeed exhausted after running themselves ragged in the park, and Nesta and Cassian can barely manage to keep them awake during dinner. Each of them nods off into their plates and the two of them quickly bathe them together so as to get them into bed fastest. They’re asleep as soon as their heads hit their pillows; only Nicky is lucid enough to say a sleepy “Good night, Mummy and Appa,” before going down as well.

“Are they always like that after playing outside?” Cassian whispers to Nesta as they leave the room.

She shuts the door behind them. “When they do so all afternoon, then yes,” she says.

“Oh,” he says, his tone normal. “I didn’t realize they’d tire so soon.”

“They’re children,” she says. “Not military generals.”

“Right,” he says, grinning. “I knew that. I just didn’t realize....” He trails off.

Nesta leads them downstairs into the kitchen. “Are you leaving tonight or tomorrow morning?” she says, pouring herself a glass of berry wine spritzer.

“First light,” he says. Then he takes a deep breath. “Listen, Nesta, I...I wanted to ask you something.”

She turns away from him, busying herself with wiping down her already clean countertops. “What?”

“I...I’m having a wonderful time,” he says. His voice is soft. “Getting to know them. They’re amazing. They’re perfect. You’ve done an incredible job.”

She pauses, still not looking at him. She can feel his eyes on her and she nods slightly.

“And I just...wish I could give you more than just these gifts I brought and the money.”

“We’re doing all right. And the money....” Nesta tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. She turns to face him. “The money helps. Really.”

He smiles at her, and it’s one of his quiet smiles. She’s never seen it in front of other people before, just her, a long time ago, in the Illyrian mountains. “Good.”

She drops her gaze. This is not the Illyrian mountains. This is Sugar Valley.

“Well, I was thinking...I understand your aversion. I get--I know, I really do, Nesta. I get it. But I was hoping that after seeing me with them...I’m doing all right, aren’t I?”

Nesta goes back to the countertops. “You’re doing fine.”

“Well. I was hoping you might...consider...” Cassian stops take a deep breath. Then he says in a rush, “letting your sisters come visit them.”

Nesta puts down the cloth. She closes her eyes tightly.

“What. Did. I. Say.”

“I know, I know, it’s your decision.”

“I don’t know how many times--”

“I’m just--I’m begging you to give them a chance.”

“And they asked you for this? I cannot believe them. What gall.”

“They love you, Nesta, please. Please. Just a visit. They love you so much. They’re so sorry.” He reached out and turns her towards him. “Nesta,” he pleads, hand still on her arm. “Just to meet them. Here, in your house. Or wherever you’d like. For however long you say is all right. But just--”

“I say no time.”

“Nesta, they’re your siblings.”

She flinches.

Siblings, he says. Not sisters. Probably to stir her children in her mind. Or maybe not. Either way, it did.

She lets out a breath.

She does not want her children to grow up to be like her. She wants them happy and full of love.

And they love each other--so much. They are so kind to one another. So good together. For a moment, Nesta imagines them living as she and her sisters do--one wronging another, and then again, and again, and again, and never apologizing, and herself dead and unable to mend things between them, and her throat constricts.

She gasps a little, having not noticed she was holding her breath.

“I’ll...think about it,” she says hoarsely.

Cassian exhales in relief. “Okay. Thank you. Really.”

“You should go.”

“I will. Thank you. I--thank you. All right. I’ll go.”

And he does, and she wishes he doesn’t, because the thoughts in her head are too terrifying to be left to herself.

---

November 6 - Year of

It became very clear to Emerie than her employee did not know how to make stew essentially the moment they entered the kitchen. Nesta clearly did not know where the pots were.

After watching her gather everything she needed (or thought she needed--Emerie didn’t know what kind of stew she intended to make with only three potatoes and various spices), Nesta said under her breath, “Now, I suppose I should wash these,” and Emerie thought that was enough.

“Why don’t we go out for dinner?” she suggested. “There’s a place I like.”

Nesta blinked. “Are there...places here? To eat?”

Emerie rolled her eyes internally. “There’s one.”

She lead them to the restaurant. Although she guessed that was a generous term. It was...a place you could buy food. But it was quiet and tucked out of the way and clean, and that was enough for Emerie.

It seemed enough for Nesta as well, judging by her build. The girl was pitifully thin. It was still talk of the camp, how the Commander did not feed the High Lady’s sister. But after working alongside her for the past few weeks, Emerie guessed that that was not entirely his fault.

“Why did you come here?” she asked as they looked at the menus.

Nesta looked up, eyes widening a bit. Then they narrowed. She looked back down.

That was all right. Emerie was used to Nesta simply not answering questions she didn’t want to.

But she wasn’t much for small talk, and she didn’t know what else to say, so she said, “Do you like the cold?”

Nesta frowned. “What?”

“You grew up in the South of the island, didn’t you?”

She nodded slowly.

“So do you like the cold?”

Nesta pursed her lips. “It’s...cold down there too, you know.”

“Oh,” Emerie said. “Well. No. I didn’t know that.”

And they settled into silence again.

“I don’t like the wind, though,” she said suddenly.

“What?”

“The wind. In the mountains. I don’t like it.”

“Oh,” she said again. “Is there any wind in the south?”

Nesta scoffed. “Not like the mountains.”

“Well, perhaps you should move to a valley inland,” she said.

“Perhaps I will. Do you know of any?”

Emerie paused. “Not by name,” she admitted. “I’ve never looked for a new place to live by wind factor. I don’t know that many do.”

“Hurricane survivors,” Nesta said, ticking off fingers. “People with precise hairstyles. Those with...” she eyed Emerie closely. “Weak wings.”

Emerie’s mouth opened a bit. Then she let out a surprised laugh. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”

“That’s odd,” Nesta said, settling back into her chair, picking up her menu again. “I’m always told that being funny is my greatest charm.”

She didn’t quite smile then, her frightening Other employee. But it was close.

---

Chapter Eight

[anjibooks]

A Court of Wings and Ruin by Sarah J. Maas (Book Review and discussion)

"Remember you are a wolf. And you cannot be caged." A Court of Wings and Ruin, the last book in the fantastical A Court of Thorns and Roses Trilogy, and easily my most anticipated book of the year. Last year, I was blown away by the second book, A Court of Mist and Fury. That book captured my heart, so much so that I now consider it my favorite. Saying A Court of Wings and Ruin had a lot to live up to is an understatement. The last book in a series, especially a trilogy, is always hard to write perfectly. I've read very few finale books that I have read and felt completely satisfied with. Then again, I'm the type that will never be satisfied (haha Hamilton, anyone?). I'd like to start this review off saying that I absolutely adored this book. It was a truly transcendent experience. This is not a series I will ever forget, or ever stop rereading. While I did love the book, I'll be the first to admit that it did have its flaws. I'll go into those flaws with detail, and I just really want to express that I did truly love this book. It was amazing, it just wasn't everything I'd hoped for-- which was a lot. Do I still highly recommend this series? Of course, it's still one of my all time favorite series, and has my all time favorite book in it. Do I still love this series with all my heart and soul? YES. Like I said before, it's extremely hard to write a last book in a series, especially a trilogy, that leaves the reader feeling satisfied and happy. For one, it's saying goodbye to that specific cast of characters. Two, the reader always wants more, if it's a truly good series the reader can never get enough. Three, The reader's visions, expectations and hopes are often very different from the author's. Sometimes finale books in trilogies feel rushed, like all the information is crammed in. This is one of the issues I had with A Court of Wings and Ruin. "Do not get distracted. Do not linger. You are a warrior, and warriors know when to pick their fights." Like many books before it, and many books to come, A Court of Wings and Ruin falls into the pit of rushed trilogy endings. I don't see the appeal of trilogies to authors, especially when it seems like the amount of information crammed into the last book always seems like enough to spread out into another, if not two more, books. A Court of Wings and Ruin was strange in the way that the beginning felt a little... slow, while the end? So many things that seemed like they had lead up to a big conclusion were rushed through. And a lot of the BIG SHOCKERS in the end, didn't even have enough time to impact the reader before they were resolved. This book didn't feel as well thought through and edited as its predecessors. My theory on that is that Sarah is writing A LOT these days. She's been banging out these gigantic books, and has less time to go over them, which is unfortunate. There were a lot less moments in this book where you just go "OH that's what all those subtle little foreshadowing bits that I barely even noticed lead up to." That was something Sarah's previous books had been so good at-- dropping random little things that you don't even notice, until you see the outcome and it seems OBVIOUS and just feels right because of all the hints towards it. Instead, this book had rushed scenes that didn't seem to fit correctly, and then also scenes that had big lead ups and then lasted for only a few paragraphs. The pacing of this book just felt off. "They took what is ours. And we do not allow those crimes to do unpunished." While I absotleuly love the first person narrative, it's the one that I chose to write in, it didn't exactly work for this book. While it worked brilliantly in the previous two books, that was because those two tracked the internal progress of Feyre growing into her own self. In this book, Feyre has found herself and the character building arcs are really supposed to be concentrated on others. But it felt... awkward trying to show these huge character arcs through only Feyre's eyes. Not that I'm saying I think the book should'be switched to third person, because that would be weird and out of tone for the series, but I just wasn't a big fan of how the other character arcs were portrayed through Feyre's eyes. Sometimes scenes were just stuffed in to be there, and I don't know. It just felt off and weird. There were certain, very important characters, that just disappeared for a really long time (yeah, a character I love just dropped off the face of the book for a good half before turning up randomly again-- it didn't feel like the good, smooth transitions Sarah usually writes.) And then there were just other characters, doing really important things in the background, but we have no insight into it because Feyre has no insight into it. And then they just pop back up after having done this really big task, that causes disconnect between the reader and the character. I didn't see what they were up to, so their big reveal at their great deeds doesn't seem quite as important. For instance, there's a character that we haven't seen since the first book that just turns up with this big surprise and I couldn't exactly bring myself to care when they were put into danger. Why? I don't know them, I don't know what they'd been up to. I had no real connection to them. "You do not fear. You do not falter. You do not yield." The plot itself was pretty interesting, there were just some holes that I was really expecting to be filled in before the end of the book... And they weren't. YES I am aware that there are more books coming set in this world. But this was marketed as the conclusion to this specific story, to Feyre's story and the issues going on with her.... It really didn't feel like the end. I think Sarah might've been trying to set up too many things in a book that was supposed to feel like a conclusion. There were just so MANY things that she set up that it didn't feel like a conclusion at all because of all the holes, and questions unanswered, not to mention that all the time spent setting up other books didn't leave quite enough time for a big, satisfying ending. "There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives." Now to talk about the characters. Feyre, her storyline was not, this will sound weird, but not the main one of the book. She was a bit of a bystander to the main characters arcs going on. A Court of Mist and Fury had been Feyre's big story arc of finding herself, now she gets to watch others do the same. Sure, Feyre was involved, but her storyline was not nearly as BIG as others, because she didn't change at all. I loved Feyre in this book, but she just wasn't quite as interesting in comparison to the other big changes happening in other characters. "But this is war. We don't have the luxury of good ideas-- only picking between the bad ones." Rhys, one out of the many of my favorite characters from this book, seemed to be a bit of a disappointment. I was excited to see my lovely, sassy most powerful high lord again. Instead, similar to Aelin in Empire of Storms, he's burdened and has very few quips. Sure, war is a very big burden and can do a lot to serious a person up... But this Rhys didn't even feel like the Rhys I'd come to know and love. He almost felt like a supporting or background character instead of the male lead of the story. Like I said before, he's one of my many favorites and still is, I just wasn't convinced by his portrayal in this book. He felt rather out of character. And then there's the fact that he kind of let Feyre walk over him a bit. I get that Sarah's trying to hammer in that Rhys is not like Tamlin, he lets Feyre do as she wants, even if it puts her in danger. In previous books though, he walked the line of letting her do as she wants, but if it put her in too much danger, he wouldn't let her go alone or would do what he could to protect her. In this book? Feyre basically just goes off and does whatever and Rhys is just eh. There, I guess. It's hard to explain. You'll see what I mean when you read the book. "I figure it's time for the world to know who really has the largest wingspan." I really did love seeing more of the inner circle, even with them falling apart from each other a bit. Or should I say especially? They couldn't have been stuck together for 500 years with those different personalities and not argue at all. Cassian, always a favorite, played a lovely role in the story. I think we all know who I ship him with, and his interaction with that character was perfect. It was anything but instalove. And seeing as I hate instalove... Anyway, I loved seeing more of Cassian, especially as we get to see how he felt about the events at the end of the last book. You really get to see how loyal he is, and how much he cares for his family. UGH. I can't express how much I love Cassian. Then there's Azriel and Mor. Azriel, we get to see more of him in this book. And it was really cute seeing another side of the brooding shadow singer. Though, people have started a new ship with Azriel and I AM NOT ON BOARD. Sorry to all you people on that ship, it's just not going to happen. I ship that person with someone else. Mor, her part in this book felt somewhat lacking. She kind of faded in and out of the narrative, being there but not really doing much. And then there's this big reveal about her, and I just didn't really feel convinced about it. Like... yeah sure, but the way it was portrayed/ how it was described didn't feel convincing to me. Nesta and Elain. It was really interesting to see how each handled the transition. Well, at first I was kind of along the lines of NESTA STOP BEING SUCH A COLASSAL BITCH, but then as she mellowed out (as much as mellowed out as Nesta can get), I started to like her again. Especially with her dynamic with Cassian. That was just *sighs* absolutely perfect. As mentioned in the previous book, the Cauldron made Nesta something new, something powerful. I was really disappointed with the route Sarah took with that, I just didn't feel like we got enough of it. If I had to stand to guess, I'd say we'd go deeper into it in the next books, still though, it was important to the storyline and we didn't really get to see much of it in action, or even understand what her power really, truly was. Then there's Elain, wonderful sweet Elain. Lucien's mate. Wow, these two deserve the world. I enjoyed the sweetness and innocence of her character, and yet I could not become fully attached to her. While she was a vital player in the story, she herself didn't really have much of a big part in it. Since I mentioned my love, I might as well get into my thoughts on his portrayal in this book. Lucien. I was really looking forward to seeing more of him, especially since we barely saw him in the previous book. Lucien was easily my favorite character in A Court of Thorns and Roses, and I was excited to be reunited with him. While Feyre was in the Spring Court, I enjoyed the progression of his and her relationship, but after she left the Spring Court, I wish Feyre still remained involved (not in a romantic way) with Lucien. Despite having new friends, Lucien was her first friend in this world, and he... He just deserves the world. And I really hope he gets it one day. If I had to guess who the next (or at least one of the next) book was about, I'd have to say Lucien. Why? So much was revealed about him in this book, and so much was left unresolved. One of those really unsatisying plot holes left in the story. Now that we've mentioned Lucien, I can no longer avoid Tamlin. Where do I stand on him? Well, I think we can call him a tool, after all he proved that he actually does have some use. He did have a bit of a redemption arc, though, there was an action after that that still proved him a tool. *slight spoiler* I wished there was a scene where he and Feyre sat down and talked, but it never happened... *spoiler over* There were a plethora of new characters introduced, and I have to say, I am interested to see more of these characters in the coming books. I am especially interested in seeing more of the high lords, they all have been hinted to having a complicated back story. Then there's Eris, Lucien's older brother... I saw a hint of redemption in him, and I want to see more of him. Then there's a new character named Vassa, whose description is extremely detailed... A little too detailed for her part in the story actually. Like for me it was another one of those "set ups" that just took up too much space when there wasn't enough space for actual important plot points. I didn't really care much for her, I have a feeling when the book comes out about her, I'll be very into her (she was Celaena reminiscent). ​ Not to be super repetitive, but I really need to hammer in the point that I ACTUALLY DID REALLY LIKE THIS BOOK. It's just a whole lot easier to pick out the criticisms over the amazing perks, I guess. I think once we get into the spoilery discussion, you'll see that yeah, I actually really did love this book and was fingerling 99.99% of the time whilst reading it. Hopefully my score of the book will also hammer in the point that it was really good, despite its flaws-- 9/10 stars. Yeah it was that good. Sure, not perfect, but really there are few books that are. Anyway, I hope you read the book and tell me what you think! Do you agree or disagree with my points? I, like so many of these characters, am a dreamer, and these books will stay with me forever. (And I'll be forever be rereading them as well.) Synopsis: Looming war threatens all Feyre holds dear in the third volume of the #1 New York Times bestselling A Court of Thorns and Roses series. Feyre has returned to the Spring Court, determined to gather information on Tamlin's maneuverings and the invading king threatening to bring Prythian to its knees. But to do so she must play a deadly game of deceit-and one slip may spell doom not only for Feyre, but for her world as well. As war bears down upon them all, Feyre must decide who to trust amongst the dazzling and lethal High Lords-and hunt for allies in unexpected places. In this thrilling third book in the #1 New York Times bestselling series from Sarah J. Maas, the earth will be painted red as mighty armies grapple for power over the one thing that could destroy them all. ​Now for the discussion... (SPOILERS BELOW FOR A COURT OF WINGS AND RUIN) By far, the best scene in the entire book for me was when Cassian and Azriel showed up to save Feyre from Eris & the other Autumn Court Princes. Just... That had to be the best scene ever. I'll never forget my excitement. Seriously, just thinking about it has me squealing in excitement. Cassian flying down from the sky, and smashing into the ice looking all dark and warrior like with a burning anger in his eyes? Swoon and faint because OMG I was so excited. A little disappointed Rhys wasn't involved, but hey, the scene was still phenomenal. I'm not really sure how I feel about the whole Spring Court take down. It wasn't what I'd expected-- I'd expected to see her take them down from the inside and then reveal herself before Rhys comes swooping in and they just winnow off together or something. That would've been brilliant, but what actually happened was pretty brilliant as well, the subtle take down. I was a little disappointed there was no big reveal, but whatever I guess. Tamlin really did show how much of a bad partner he is through his jealousy to an extreme when Feyre was with Lucien. Another thing I'm not really sure how I feel about-- the way Feyre treated Lucien while they were in the Spring Court. She was using him, when he really didn't deserve that. It was really obvious that he felt remorseful for not standing up for her more, and even though he suspected her story wasn't true (my clever baby), he still protected her. Then Feyre still uses him... I liked that they kind of grew closer, but still she was using him and I didn't like that. I loved when they got the Bogge to go after Brannagh and Dagdan, though, it was fantastic. I was laughing so hard when Tamlin was freaking out at them and they were both like eh, they deserved it. Then there's Brannagh and Dagdan... These guys were one of those instances where the idea was introduced, and it was intriguing, but there wasn't quite enough time for them. This seemed to happen a lot in this book-- like with the other high lords, but that's getting a little off topic. Save that for later. I was actually really interested in these twins, their relationship, their powers etc. It seemed like there was a whole gigantic storyline that they were going to be involved in, but no... They actually got killed off pretty quick, before you even really got to know them well. A good villain is one you understand and can almost sympathsize with... I'll be the first to admit that this series doesn't have the best big villains. I was also surprised that they were able to be killed off by Lucien and Feyre-- babies compared to them. I dunno, guess I'm just a little disappointed that they weren't used for more when they had so much potentional. As soon as Feyre and Lucien left the bodies behind I was like OMG don't do that, they're just going to be brought back through the cauldron and be blood thirsty. Yep, nope. They were gone for good. When Feyre was sneaking off and she caught Ianthe with Lucien, I was just. ANGER. I mean seriously, we already all hate Ianthe, but this book just magnifies that hatred times two million. I didn't even know that was possible. Like the way she... on Lucien... NO. JUST NO. No one gets to do that to my baby and get away with it-- and she didn't. *laughs evilly*. I'm so morbid, I enjoyed that hand smashing wayyyy too much. But then when Lucien wanted to come with her, I didn't entirely believe it. I guess his and Tamlin's relationship was strained, but I didn't believe that he would just leave, no message, no nothing. I get it, the mate thing is strong, but still... Lucien knew that would ruin his relationship with Tamlin and still left. And yet, I loved this slight bonding time for Feyre and Lucien, when they had to huddle together and he put his cloak over her *squeals* he's so cute. And that is exactly why I ship Elain and Lucien and NOT Elain and Azriel. I'm sorry, I see a growing group of people shipping Elain and Azriel and I just... can't. I know not all mating pairs are right and it actually extremely worries me that they talked about that A LOT in this book, but... I've been shipping Lucien and Elain ever since A Court of Mist and Fury, and I'm not about to let that go. I can just see it, Lucien's gone through so much, Elain could be the light in his life, kind of like how Feyre is the light for Rhys. They're just... AH perfect. I can see Sarah starting to create a love triangle, and NO! I'm not feeling love triangles, especially not here. Elain and Azriel can be really good friends... but Elain and Lucien forever. And for all y'all shipping Lucien with Vassa... How? How has this ship come about? They've been shown talking for like five seconds and suddenly there's a ship for them... Ha.. It's almost like we're all back in middle school or something (or my high school). I felt a little bit weird about the way Feyre and Rhys were reunited... Like first off, it's very Rhys style to have a big entrance, and he doesn't exactly have that. And secondly, the first thing they do is have sex. Like that seemed really forced, they haven't seen each other in a long time, and they just go at it. I don't know, that left me feeling weird. A lot of the sex scenes actually felt kind of forced to me in this book, while in a Court of Mist and Fury it was perfect. There was so much buildup, there were just sex scenes splattered randomly around the book which left me feeling like... what was the point? Once Feyre gets back to the Night Court, she just basically drops Lucien, I get it, her other family is there, but that doesn't really give her the right to forget about Lucien, who really does care for her and is a good friend. Then Lucien just disappears for the second half of the book and reappears at the very end... That felt choppy and weird. Like I don't know, it didn't seem right to have him disappear completely-- that's an example of how the first person was a bit of a disadvantage in this book. You don't get to see what's going on with Lucien, which is actually kind of vital to the story of the war, and you don't get to see anything happening with Tamlin. Yeah, guys don't murder me, but I kind of need a story from TAMLIN'S POV through this book, when he realizes Feyre has betrayed him, and then still deciding to turn on Hybern and then deciding to bring Rhys back.... I need Tamlin's views on it. Like when he saves Feyre at the camp, too. There's just so much open space there, I need to see what was going on in Tam's mind. While he actually had a redemption arc that I enjoyed, it was a bit erased when he didn't forgive Lucien at the end because Lucien was wearing Illyrian fighting gear. LIKE LUCIEN HAS BEEN YOUR COMPANION FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS YOU DICKWAD. I'm expecting to see a scene between Lucien and Tamlin at some point. Especially since I'm expecting at least some of these spin off books to be about Lucien-- you can't just reveal his father is Hellion and do nothing with it. While some of the tension between the inner circle did feel a little forced, most of it I appreciated. Like I said before, it shows their flaws which makes everything feel all the more realistic. Though, I know there's a ton of controversy about Mor coming out, and here's my stance on it. I totally accept that Mor's bi, I have nothing against that. What I'm a little bothered by with is the way she came out with it. There's just something about it that feels weird to me (if you haven't noticed, I'm having trouble putting a lot of my feelings about this book into words.) I guess it felt like it was thrown in as kind of a hasty afterthought. It didn't feel carefully worded and thought through like a lot of Maas' other works. I'm also kind of upset that Mor and Azriel are never going to be a thing now... Especailly since that makes Azriel open to Elain. Cassian and Nesta. *Sighs* now that was fantastic. I love how he constantly teased her with Nesta just angrily snapping back, but you could feel it. The tension there. And then when Nesta was constantly worried about him, but not willing to admit it, after he'd been fainting. *Cries* those two deserve the world. "Why should I be scared of an oversized bat who likes to throw temper tantrums?" HOW CAN YOU NOT SHIP THIS? IF YOU DON'T YOU'RE LYING TO YOURSELF. "I'm a warrior. I've walked beside Death my entire life. I would be more afraid for her to have that power. But not afraid of her." LOVE GUYS, LOVE. Just, I don't understand how everyone can't be absolutely in love with Cassian. Like he's just... perfect. It killed me when he was talking to Feyre about how he felt with her sacrificing herself. “Because … because as his mate, you were still … his to protect. Oh, don’t get that look. He’s yours to protect, too. I would have laid my life down for you as his mate—and as your friend. But you were still … his.” “And as High Lady?” Cassian loosed a rough breath. “As High Lady, you are mine. And Azriel’s, and Mor’s and Amren’s. You belong to all of us, and we belong to you. We would not have … put you in so much danger.” ___ “This is between you and me. And trust me, Rhys and I had … words about this.” ___ “You didn’t think you were essential. You saved our asses, yes, but … you didn’t think you were essential here.” ___ “I’ll never forget it, you know,” he said, blowing out a breath. “The moment when he spoke to us all, mind to mind. When I realized what was happening, and that … he’d saved us. Trapped us here and tied our hands, but …” He scratched at his temple. “It went quiet—in my head. In a way it hadn’t been before. Not since …” Cassian squinted at the cloudless sky. “Even with utter hell unleashing here, across our territory, I just went … quiet.” He tapped the side of his head with a finger, and frowned. “After Hybern, the healer kept me asleep while she worked on my wings. So when I woke up two weeks later … that’s when I heard. And when Mor told me what happened to you … It went quiet again.” AHHH Cassian... just my perfect baby. The whole tension waiting to see who would die... Ah it killed me. I was entirely convinced Cassian would die, so every battle I was just crying inside, waiting for the killings blow to take my darling out. And then I knew Rhys would die, because he said a ton of things like "we'll both survive this" and like "I'm gonna live" and then the whole stay with the high lord.. .Yeah. His death was obvious. Though, I knew he was going to be brought back. I don't know how, I guess it was from the suddenness of the death, that I knew there was no way he was dead for good. I like the whole full circle idea of Feyre getting the other high lords to bring him to life after he got all the other high lords to bring her to life, but that ending felt SO rushed. Like I didn't even have time to mourn Rhys before he was alive again. Same with Amren. The scene that actually impacted me the most during the final battle was Cassian and Nesta against Hybern. Just AW. He knew he would die but was willing to die protecting her... What? I'm not crying. I just have a book in my eye... Then when he told her to run and she stayed with him? AH. They kissed and I just died. Cassian and Nesta are just about the most shipable ship in this book. Rhys and Feyre? Of course I ship them, but they're already together so... CASSIAN AND NESTA FOR THE WIN. I was actually a little disappointed by Ianthe's death... Like, could we get an extra scene of her dying in detail? Haha. But seriously though. She killed the Suriel... After that I was sooo ready for her to have the absolute worst, most painful death ever. The Weaver's death also felt a bit rushed to me... Like she's an immortal GOD and she dies from getting her neck snapped and then her body being eaten by dogs... Okay then. The mirror, sorry this review is so choppy, I'm just bringing things up as I think of them. I was so disappointed by everything with the mirror, like that was one of the best RUSHED examples. There was so much lead up to that mirror, and then only a few paragraphs were actually dedicated to looking into it. I actually really liked that Jurian was actually good. Like that was a great twist and I actually ended up wanting to see more of him. I didn't really get why Miryam and Drakon still disliked him after they found out he was on the good side... like why? It's not like he actually wanted to hunt y'all down and kill you. Vassa, I'm sure some of the spin off books are going to be on her. I mean, she was described in too much detail for them not to be. The big BAD keeping her though, that has to be the Weaver and the Carver's brother, right? I'm pretty sure... Anyway, thanks for reading! I'm always up for more discussion so feel free to comment. I love talking books! Love y'all... Anj

[bookofmirth]

i like discussing this stuff with people even if they don't see it the way i do. sorry if it sounded like i was preachy or whatever (i re-read my 3 posts and was like wow i'm annoying lol) cause i'm cool if you see things as white and i see them as black. i just like discussing and you have a great mind/insight. anyway, yeah i can see that rhys isn't really taking into account that a slight on feyre isn't about him and that she's resolve things her own way +

+ i think the choice to be supportive and to want to defend is something i struggle with myself so i get how rhys can overstep. i know my bestie can resolve her own conflicts and it’s best to stay out of messy situations - especially when family is involved - but damn if i’m not wanting to put my boxing gloves on and punch a bitch lol. that’s why i think it’s so important that sjm wrote feyre not wanting rhys to be a dick to nesta. she has these relationships that are completely her own +

+ and it’s important for her to decide how to handle them. and it’s important for rhys to learn he can be a supportive shoulder without being ready to battle because his mate has hurt feelings. i mean i felt he did that regarding lucien. he allowed feyre to take the lead and forgive and want to be friends/work with him in acowar despite him seeming to be angry that he didn’t help feyre in acomaf. i think he just needs to chill the fuck out and let feyre take the lead. i just understand it.

I think of you now as the plus anon. Because you’re the only one I’ve had who does that lol. :)

So I like your explanation because when I look at it like that, it totally makes sense. I was seeing it purely from Feyre’s perspective. But I am absolutely the kind of person who will fuck a bitch up if they mess with someone I love. When you put it that way I’m like “ok Rhys, I got it before but now I Get It”. So thanks. :)

I can see it being a problem when it’s a friend versus a family relationship, but… maybe I’m being too nuanced in the way I’m thinking about it? Like I said, very bad, personal experience with a similar situation.

I’m still like “ew, Rhys, Tamlin is really suffering and you tried to make it worse.” But then Rhys has his own history with Tamie. But also I can’t see myself ever standing in front of someone who is so clearly beaten down, and not giving a shit. Not only not giving a shit, but making them feel worse… I just can’t. But I’m also not Rhys! Or anyone else who read that scene and thought “yeah, me too.”

But you know what’s going to have a positive influence on Tamlin? Not being yelled at about how he’s done wrong, when he damn knows well that he has. No, what’s going to work is realizing that someone can actually forgive him, even though they have no reason to. So I’m glad that when Rhys went back, he behaved differently. I’m glad that he went back at all. I think it’s good that he was reflective and like hm, maybe I dun effed that up. That was cool.

(This is totally unrelated but I can see Tamlin having lashed out at Lucien because he is being pitied by someone who used to be like a “subject”. So it just shows how far Tamlin has fallen, and he doesn’t like to be reminded. Not that it excuses it.)