#I need really need to return to dog!Cassian too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ravenya003 · 3 months ago

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@jadelotusflower

I have written a dissertation in return! Long story short; I loved this show and it's a pleasure to talk about it some more.

But I was pleasantly surprised as how much this show felt spiritually and aesthetically in tune with the original trilogy, and especially A New Hope, as opposed to Disney!Star Wars. Even if the tone and content of Andor is very different, it feels in conversation with the OT in a way the rest of Disney’s output has not - building on the story we already know, rather than trying replace or rewrite it as something else.

I noticed this too, and it was a relief to enjoy practical effects and actual sets instead of the damn Volume, which still looks obvious to me. I don’t think people realize how much of a relief it is to the brain to just accept reality instead of working around CGI and bluescreen all the time.

So many people have to die for Cassian to make it to the Rebellion - just like Cassian himself will die for the Death Star plans to make it to Leia, like Obi-Wan will die to ensure those plans make it to the Rebellion, and squadrons of rebel pilots will die so Luke can ultimately destroy the Death Star.

This is what I loved about the show in its entirety; that “passing on the torch” effect. That moments that are so tiny and inconsequential ending up having these massive, far-reaching outcomes. It’s pretty mind-blowing to consider that Cassian being unable to resist eyeballing some imperial officers at a seedy brothel starts a snowball effect that leads to the destruction of Death Star.

The closest we’ve got at the moment is Tansy Gardem’s Going Rogue podcast, which is a fascinating listen, but obviously not something told from the inside. Disney will probably have the real story and footage locked up in a vault for some time, though if Andor is any indication of quality, it’s difficult not to mourn the loss of what might have been if Gilroy had been involved from the ground floor.

But first things first. B2EMO made it to the end!

I remember seeing you worrying about him, and had to refrain from providing any reassurance. But really, has anything bad happened to an important droid in a SW film/show? I can’t think of any. They're like the franchise equivalent of pet dogs: too beloved to get killed off in what's (on some level) a story for young people.

For me, it was almost dizzying to watch/listen to dialogue that was both intelligent and naturalistic, especially on a mainstream franchise show. I think I’d forgotten what it was like to be treated as an intelligent viewer, and for the writers to assume I was paying attention instead of spoon-feeding me what I needed to hear. Things! Have! Consequences! There’s Cause! And! Effect! I think one of the most rewarding parts of the viewing experience was looking back and thinking “ah, so THAT’S why you spent time on that particular thing.” And sometimes the pay-off doesn’t come until the very end of the season, to stuff that was seeded right off the bat. Watching people complain that it was slow to start with made me roll my eyes, as there’s not a single second wasted on this show.

I love the dialogue in Andor too - which rightly gets high praise, and while it's arguably tighter, in many ways it's no more naturalistic than Lucas's, it's just pitched differently because this is a different genre (and the acting is uniformly excellent because they are actually interacting with each other and being competently directed).

The interactions between Cassian and Bix were particularly good: their entire fraught history was there, in their terse communication and body language. It was SO NICE to be allowed to figure things out for myself, and utilize my own imagination in filling in the blanks.

The Empire casts people out while the Rebellion draws them in.

This is a recurring theme across the franchise; one of my favourite examples is in Star Wars Rebels, when Zeb and Kallus are forced to work together for survival �� but when they return to their respective crews, Kallus watches Zeb greeted back with hugs and cheers; when he returns to his ship, nobody had even noticed he was gone.

Contrast this to the jockeying over position and territory and power in the ISB - they serve the Empire, but never at personal cost.

I’ll never get tired of watching Imperials being on the backfoot due to the in-fighting among them. Yet even here, this motif was played with a little on a personal level – the personnel under Deidra’s command were treated with respect, and she got ahead as a result.

This was also interesting to me; that the piecemeal nature of the Rebellion at this point is reflected in the uncertainty of Cassian himself: he doesn’t know what he wants or who he wants to be at this stage – the Rebellion grows in strength as he grows in conviction, which is a nice Doylistic mirror between the macro and microcosm – AND is further demonstrated in the opening title, during which the music becomes more booming and powerful and structured with each episode.

While much has been said of the moral ambiguity and nuance of Andor, it's not incongruent with the OT, if anything it reinforces its power and message.

So true. This is why I’ve been a little on the fence about The Acolyte (admittedly I haven’t seen yet; I’m only responding to what I’ve heard) which seems to be about how the Jedi are deeply flawed and the Dark Side makes some good points. And yet when one side is unleashing weapons of mass destruction, and the other side is… you know, NOT doing that, I remain skeptical about trying to infuse too much moral ambiguity into this universe.

I love that this show is proving that (like you said) things can be nuanced and complex while also operating within very clear and established definitions of right and wrong, light and dark.

HOWEVER, I have my nits to pick - the lack of aliens is a serious flaw (and in particular, the lack of familiar aliens).

It didn’t bother me as much as it did you, though I can definitely see your point. I can easily imagine that Gilroy cut down on the amount of aliens that could have been involved, since he wanted this to be a “serious human drama.” Which… okay dude, but it’s Star Wars. It reminded me a bit of how all the weirder elements of Frank Herbert’s Dune were removed for the recent films, seemingly because it’s meant to be “serious sci-fi.” And yet the Empire would have certainty been using alien slave labour every chance they got, and places like Coruscant should have at least had some alien extras in the background. And would it have killed them to have at least one person on the Aldani heist with antennae or an extra hand or something?

Which is of course because this was only intended to be season 1 of 5, with each arc a year of Cassian’s life leading up to Rogue One. But sadly Andor has been given a second season only, leaving 12 episodes to wrap everything up, so ultimately I fear the show will feel like a slow setup and rushed conclusion, which is a real shame.

Aw man, I didn’t realize this. I guess we can say goodbye to ever finding out what happened to Cassian’s sister, or any more context to his relationship with Maarva and Clem after their kidnapping of him. There was clearly going to be more meat to these plots, though I imagine they’ll be the first on the chopping block given the limited time-frame and all the pieces they have to put in place for Rogue One (namely K2).

Still, I’m a trilogy-minded person. Two seasons and Rogue One is the trilogy of Cassian’s story, and that works for me..

Here’s my first big disagreement with you! As a fan of this character, I was pretty happy with what we got, though that’s because I understand Cassian to be a very understated protagonist – not just here, but in Rogue One as well. I remember a bit of a ruckus in the fandom when Jyn repeated his “rebellions are built on hope” line to the rest of the rebels and accusing her of appropriation (*eye-roll*) when I think that very much encapsulates Cassian’s character – he observes, he encourages, he works in the shadows, he puts other people where they need to be without ego or the need for validation. You see this particularly well with Andy Serksis in the prison arc: just like Jyn, Serksis repeats Cassian’s words across the intercom system, while Cassian himself looks on.

In other words, he’s not a leader or a hero in the obvious sense of the word, or what we’d expect from a Star Wars protagonist. I found that really interesting, to see someone at the center of the story who is not a big, flashy character as we’d expect, but rather more like an impetus to spur on other characters. It’s clearly a deliberate choice.

I also didn’t think he was undeveloped; in fact, I was pretty riveted by how he went from someone who was largely content with gnawing at the edges of the Empire (stealing their stuff) to becoming fully committed to the cause – that definitely counts as development in my view. As he says at one point (paraphrasing): “why fight a losing battle, why not just take the money and do what you want?”

This is said in the gap between the heist and his arrest, and of course after learning what he does in the prison complex, the answer to his question is obvious: there is no peaceful living under an oppressive regime. They will always come for you, even if you’re just minding your own business. (Like you said, the Empire forges the weapons that’ll be used against them).

In many ways, this is a story of radicalization: how and why it happens, and whether it can be considered a good thing. We already know that he’ll eventually be all-in on this cause and that it will cost him his life, but that it won’t be a sacrifice made in vain. Hovering over this entire show is the question: “is it worth it?” For me, this tracking of an individual’s radicalization was the crux of his arc, and one of the main points of the show.

And it does feel a little bit skeevy that the actual Axis (pun intended) of the show is Luthen in his middle age white man glory, with a whiff of Gilroy’s self-insert about him.

I often wonder how Luthen would have played if he’d been a woman or an alien or a person of colour. I feel by the end he was deliberately positioned as a foil to Maarva, who was able to incite a riot without any deceit or manipulation, but by only speaking the truth, a point which may well come into play in the second season.

I also have an inkling (or perhaps it’s just wishful thinking) that Luthen will share his philosophy with Cassian at some point: that they’re all destined to die alone, that they’ll have to sacrifice their moral compasses to the cause, etc. And of course, the beauty of this being a prequel is that we already know Cassian doesn’t COMPLETELY give up his sense of right and wrong, and he won’t die alone as a result.

Which is to say, I also think Luthen will get a death scene in season two that will reflect his philosophy: he will indeed die in ignominy, in contrast to Cassian being able to give/derive comfort from Jyn in his final moments.

In other words, I don’t feel that Luthen is being held up as any sort of ideal. I was fascinated by the way he was introduced in a very Sith-like cloak: the dark side of the light side, so to speak. And I think (or hope) Gilroy will commit to NOT glorifying his point-of-view, as a jumping off point for Luke's idealism, though that remains to be seen.

My take was that Luthen was more rattled than he cared to admit by Maarva’s speech – like I said, here’s a woman that is able to incite rebellion WITHOUT any Machiavellian schemes, and – knowing she was Cassian’s mother – decides to let him go.

Cassian is without a reflective character pairing because his true mirror is Jyn Erso, and seeing Cassian’s struggles here does give real weight to his “you’re not the only one who lost everything” speech - in many ways the show is his journey from being Jyn, to being the man who says to her “we don't all have the luxury of deciding when and where we want to care about something.”

In a way it’s a shame that this is a prequel to a prequel; imagine if we got to watch this unravel in the correct chronological order, with Rogue One as the grand finale. Damn. Still, it DOES give us more insight into that Cassian/Jyn rapport, making what the film was going for with the two of them even clearer. Cinta telling Vel that “I’m a mirror; I show you what you need to see,” is how Diego Luna described how Cassian saw Jyn, though in that case it’s “he doesn’t like what she reflects.”

The artifact Luthen gives Mon represents “a sun goddess and a serpent sharing the same mouth” representing their differing philosophical approach to fighting the Empire.

Hey, nice catch. I didn’t twig to this one.

“I’m condemned to use the tools of my enemy to defeat them. I burn my decency for someone else’s future. I burn my life, to make a sunrise that I know I’ll never see. No, the ego that started this fight will never have a mirror, or an audience, or the light of gratitude."

Like I said, I guarantee he’ll eventually say some sort of variation of this to Cassian, or that “we will die alone,” the irony being that because Cassian still clings to a semblance of humanity – he at least won’t be alone when he dies.

Ultimately, the Rebellion needs people like Luthen and Cassian to make not only the physical sacrifice, but the moral one as well (noting our first introduction to Cassian is him killing an informant so he can escape) - people who play the Empire's game so Luke can ultimately reject the Emperor's.

It’s interesting, because I knew at least one viewer who disliked Rogue One precisely because of this mentality – the idea that the Rebels had to engage in underhanded tactics in order to secure their victory, when he believed that the OT was so based upon very “clean” black and white moral underpinnings that depicting the Rebellion as guerillas and saboteurs and assassins was undermining the story as a whole.

I can’t say I agree as Star Wars is very compartmentalized in a lot of ways, but I do enjoy the question it poses: it’s easy to make your life a sacrifice, but what if your morality/humanity IS the sacrifice?

I’m surprised Gilroy has said he wrote Deidra to be relatable - she skeeved me out from the first, someone clearly ready to step over anyone and everyone if it served her purposes rather than someone gradually drawn further into an authoritarian regime. There's the slight subtext of sexism - there's only one other women in the ISB briefing and Pendergast alludes to it, but that certainly didn't engender any sympathy or admiration from me.

RIGHT??!! I was rather baffled by this, as well as the actress’s interview in which she states the audience was meant to initially see her as the underdog up against the sexist work environment she was surrounded by (and subsequently root for her) only for her torture of Bix to make you realize “oh right, she’s a victim of sexism AND an evil imperial. You can be both!”

Because I seriously did not see her as the underdog in any of her pre-Bix scenes. From the actress’s facial expressions to the fact that she didn’t really seem to be a target due to her gender, I was actually completely surprised by this take on the character. Which is a shame, as it’s not a bad premise.

I just hope they’re going somewhere more interesting than his creepy crush.

Yeah, I’ve no idea what they’re doing with that one.

Andor happily treats its women as characters, not faux-empowering meme-fodder.

Honestly, for me the best moment of this entire series was when Vel was depicted as completely terrified and on the verge of calling everything off when she and Cinta had to abseil down the dam. What a great moment, and it humanized her so well.

The whole anti-woke crowd are profoundly tedious, but I also get sick of the whole “girlboss” phenomenon, in which girls are never allowed to have any sort of flaws or foibles or weaknesses to overcome. Those few minutes watching Vel force her way through her fear and then finding her courage were such a great antidote to that.

I also noticed that the fact Vel and Cinta were in a relationship went completely unremarked upon by fandom – because hey, when you make same-sex relationships an understated part of how humanity works instead of something to do a big song-and-dance number over, people just accept it and get on with it! Amazing!

In Vel and Cinta we have two more sides of insurgency - from wealth and privilege in Vel, the cousin of Mon Mothma struggling with the weight of it all, to Cinta with her cold fire and unwavering drive, her family killed by stormtroopers and for whom the struggle will always come first.

This show didn’t do Easter eggs, but I do like to think on some level they wanted to get in a “hitherto unknown familial connection between two characters” link as a homage to the Skywalker twins. And of course, the fact that it really doesn’t make much of a difference as to whether Vel/Mon were cousins or not was somehow very funny.

This was SO GOOD. Love me some world-building that’s integrated neatly into the story.

Yeah, they dropped the ball on this one. A fascinating setup, and they might get into it a little in season two, but it’s the most obvious fatality when it comes to cutting down the seasons from five to two.

The difference, for me, is does inclusion of a known character/object/trope/line of dialogue serve the character and/or story, or is it Leo DiCaprio pointing meme, designed for “hey it’s the thing” nostalgia and YouTube compilations with no substance behind it? Ultimately, is the inclusion Watsonian or Doylist - and if the latter, what of the former justifies it.

I know I’ve said this to you before, but Rogue One itself had the perfect examples of this: the little cameo from C3PO and R2D2 was fine, because it made sense they’d be there and it was only a few seconds long, but earlier in the film everything grounds to a halt so they can showcase the two cantina aliens from Tatooine – which makes NO SENSE, because Jedha is about to be blown to smithereens! We’re just meant to point and say “hey, those guys!”

Not all fanservice is created equal.

Strange comparison, but it’s a bit like how the writers for the BBC Robin Hood were so eager to get rid of the old guard and shoehorn in their bright shiny new characters that they forgot to give anyone a reason to care about Kate, Tuck, Archer, Isabella, etc. They just plonked them in and hoped no one would notice they’d just thrown out everything we’d invested in for the past two years.

The massive difference being that the RH audience bailed MUCH faster, and the show got cancelled before ever having the chance to fulfil its new vision. Star Wars obviously has more staying power, but even that’s clearly starting to wane. All anyone can do is shake their heads and ask: “why do that?”

It’s funny: when things are good, there’s a myriad of explanations as to why, but when things suck, it’s usually because of just one or two similar reasons.

(I promise I did not bring up Robin Hood just to point out that the Aldani leader who led the pilgrimage under the Eye was the same actor who played the Abbott in the third episode of season three).

So I finally watched Andor...

...and naturally I have thoughts (hey, it’s me). Maybe they're belated, seeing as this show was released almost two years ago, but I've been on the outskirts of the Star Wars fandom for a while now. This in and of itself isn't usual - I tend to drift between my core fandoms in phases, but since TLJ the GFFA hasn't really been a pleasant place to be so I haven't really had a reason to drift back to it for any length of time.

Which isn't to say I've avoided Star Wars altogether, dipping in when something piques my interest like Obi-Wan Kenobi (which I liked aspects of but ultimately felt like just a setup to the show I actually wanted to watch), and have absorbed some of the rest through cultural osmosis. Andor is a show I've been meaning to get to for a while, although it has been praised to the point of being overhyped (and there was a whiff of Not Like Other Star Wars to the critical reception) so I was concerned it would not meet expectations.

Aesthetically, we have the 70's vibe of the set design and costuming in middle-class Coruscant, the stark white jumpsuits and surrounds of Narkina 5 evoking Lucas's early film THX-1138, even the way we are plopped right into the middle of the story with very little exposition, but still eased into the narrative is very reminiscent of the first act of A New Hope. Thematically, of course we’re seeing the Rebellion in its earlier stages - small disparate cells of seditious activity directly acting against Imperial interests that will become the somewhat ragtag but nonetheless organised and unified Alliance.

While Star Wars was a cinema pastiche throwback to Flash Gordan serials and Campbell’s hero’s journey as an antidote to the grimdark antiheroes of the 70’s, in many ways Andor brings things back full circle to the grit of neo-noir. It holds a mirror up to the OT and lets us see the other side of the coin - and the full cost of victory. So many people have to die for Cassian to make it to the Rebellion - just like Cassian himself will die for the Death Star plans to make it to Leia, like Obi-Wan will die to ensure those plans make it to the Rebellion, and squadrons of rebel pilots will die so Luke can ultimately destroy the Death Star.

A stone is dropped in a pond, and we see the ripples but the stone itself sinks.

Overall thoughts

Tony Gilroy is the showrunner here, a veteran screenwriter notable for the Bourne films, and we can certainly see this influence at work. He also wrote The Devil’s Advocate, which is by no means good but I do enjoy in all its ott mythological monologues-and-accents glory, and seminal romcom (of my childhood at least) The Cutting Edge. He also wrote and directed Michael Clayton, which I have not seen but was nominated for several Oscars, including Original Screenplay, Director, and Best Picture (Tilda Swinton won for Supporting Actress).

Of course he's also a credited screenwriter on Rogue One, and I understand his contribution was mostly to the infamous rewrites/reshoots. I desperately want to read a full breakdown/bts of what went down with that film (well all of Disney-led Lucasfilm really) and see the deleted/original material, because I am fascinated. It's also interesting to note that Gilroy took over showrunning duties from Stephen Schiff pre-production. The show does very much feel like Gilroy wanted to make his own stamp on the Andor character and use him as a vehicle in his spy-thriller/political intrigue wheelhouse.

Reading some of Gilroy’s comments around the series had made me wonder how much of Andor being reflective/referential to the OT was intentional (on his part at least), and arguably Gilroy did overwrite the character of Cassian Andor so…there’s nuance. But as a story, to me it felt in tune with what I love about Star Wars rather than at odds with it, and that's what I appreciated most.

But first things first. B2EMO made it to the end! Finally, my expectations are subverted in a good way, because I love this little droid with all my heart. There are several key elements of Star Wars to me that separate it from other sci-fi/space fantasy and that is Jedi, distinctive aliens, and sentient droids. Obviously there's no Jedi here (nor does there need to be), my issues with the lack of aliens I'll address below, but when it comes to droids B2EMO fits right in, and we can assume is a precursor to Cassian's relationship with K-2SO.

Overall I thought the show was excellent (with a few caveats). What's impressive is the sheer number of characters and plots interwoven together, every conversation servicing character, the overall theme or setting something up that will pay off later, playing with coincidence and fate (the will of the Force), the interlocking domino effect. Arvel Skeen recognising the tattoo on Cassian's arm leads to a conversation of his history, but also sets up Skeen later offering to take and split the haul with Cassian (and getting killed for it). The raid on Aldhani triggers the Empire’s harsh new measures that gets Cassian sentenced to six years in prison, but also inspires the rebellion on Ferrix (via Maarva). The Aldhani heist is a triumph for Vel, but traps Mon’s financial contributions to the Rebellion by the Empire’s crackdown on banking, leading her and her daughter into an unwanted family alliance.

I'm a big proponent of Star Wars Dialogue is Good, Actually - not saying there's not clunkers or stilted scenes (the PT moreso than the OT) but there seems to be this weird consensus that Lucas-era dialogue sucks despite being some of the most quoted/referenced movies of all time. Lucas was creating a modern myth, of course a lot of it is arch and operatic. I love the dialogue in Andor too - which rightly gets high praise, and while it's arguably tighter, in many ways it's no more naturalistic than that of the Saga with everyone constantly speaking in metaphor, it's just pitched differently because this is a different genre (and the acting is uniformly excellent because they are actually interacting with each other and being competently directed).

There’s layers of meaning in almost every scene and subtle moments of foreshadowing that I really enjoy - Karis Nemik muses on the role of mercenaries in a rebellion that must use every tool and weapon at its disposal, and obviously Cassian starts out as that mercenary who will be pulled into the wider struggle, but this also foreshadows the importance of Han Solo - at first only out for the promise of a reward but ultimately instrumental in bringing the Empire down. But it’s not because he’s treated as a tool - as the Empire treats its workforce as tools - but because he’s treated as worthwhile, he’s valued as a person. The Empire casts people out while the Rebellion draws them in.

We also see this in the arc on Narkina 5, and the Empire’s tightening grip backfiring against them. In order to force the prisoners to speedily produce parts for the Death Star they work in close-knit teams, creating a close camaraderie ultimately allowing them to escape - because when you turn people into cogs of a machine, the machine can be turned back against you. Contrast this to the jockeying over position and territory and power in the ISB - they serve the Empire, but never at personal cost.

We see the Republic of affiliated systems from the PT turn into an Empire of conquered planets, where local cultures are subsumed into homogeneous Imperial rule. Even Corpsec is replaced by Imperial oversight, and we know that the Senate on Coruscant will be dissolved completely in ANH. But ultimately this ferments rebellion and unites the outcast and oppressed - the Keredians on Narkina 5 hate the Empire for their prison polluting the waterways, and so let Cassian and Melchi go. Cinta’s whole family was killed by stormtroopers turning her single minded focus to destroying them. The people of Ferrix respond to Maarva’s call and riot against the Imperial forces even though it will mean violent reprisal.

The Empire forges the weapons that will be used against them. As Nemik’s manifesto states: “The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear.”

And yet we're not there yet - it's important that this is still a Rebellion and not an Alliance, a disparate collection of segmented sedition with a myriad of agendas we see run by Saw Gerrara, Anton Kreegyr, Luthen Rael. They won't be a genuine threat to the Empire until they join forces, share resources and intelligence, and unite behind a collective goal. Although there may be sacrifices in this as well - Separatists, Partisan Front, Sectorists etc mentioned by Saw will either coalesce under the Alliance to Restore the Republic or be driven further to the fringes.

The thrust of Nemik's manifesto is that freedom is a natural state of being, while oppression is unnatural, and even though Andor has nothing to do with the Jedi it nonetheless echoes their philosophy: that the Force is in a natural state of balance, while the existence of the Sith who tap into the Dark Side upset this balance. As we see in Return of the Jedi, the balance is ultimately restored by the return to that natural state buffeted by the most powerful forces - friendship, love, sacrifice - forces that ultimately drive Cassian as well. While much has been said of the moral ambiguity and nuance of Andor, it's not incongruent with the OT, if anything it reinforces its power and message.

HOWEVER, I have my nits to pick - the lack of aliens is a serious flaw (and in particular, the lack of familiar aliens). In some cases they can get away with it and make subtle commentary - Coruscant is stark and grey as the centre of bureaucracy in stark contrast to the vibrant metropolis of the PT. Seeing the streets populated almost exclusively by humans where once it was a melting pot underscores the Empire’s segregationist policies. However the dearth of non-humans elsewhere - Ferrix, Aldhani, even the prison labour camp Narkina 5 - is disconcerting. These are places meant to depict the oppressive rule of the Empire and this undermines the strength of the rebellion as a group of diverse species fighting against the Imperial monoculture. It's odd, for example, that we see all the characters from Ferrix return except Vetch, the muscle employed "just to stand there" by Nurchi (a nice moment with Cassian!), and that Maarva's funeral procession seems entirely human.

Ultimately, I think the setup is much stronger than the payoff, and while I appreciate the slow burn, the show does have sometimes have difficulty juggling the plots. Once set up, characters are parked waiting to be incorporated into the narrative (it feels like we watch Syril stare at his cereal forever) and looking back not much actually happens to a lot of them- there are a lot of threads left hanging and not much resolution. Which is of course because this was only intended to be season 1 of 5, with each arc a year of Cassian’s life leading up to Rogue One. But sadly Andor has been given a second season only, leaving 12 episodes to wrap everything up, so ultimately I fear the show will feel like a slow setup and rushed conclusion, which is a real shame.

Cassian Andor

I’m went into this as someone who doesn’t really have a strong connection to Cassian as a character - I certainly liked him in Rogue One! But let’s just say he’s not my blorbo. And this not the backstory I would have expected for the character five years before Rogue One as someone who has “been in this fight since [he] was six years old.”

Diego Luna has such a charismatic presence and it is nice to have a more internal, insular character, but it’s kind of sad that Cassian is really the least developed character in a show ostensibly about him. It’s not really his story, but he’s the fulcrum (pun intended) around which most of the other characters pivot; this is a story of the rebellion of which he is just one part. So, I can see if Cassian fans may have been upset by his lack of focus, and I personally would have wanted to delve a bit deeper into Cassian Andor on a show called Andor, you know? And it does feel a little bit skeevy that the actual Axis (pun intended) of the show is Luthen in his middle age white man glory, with a whiff of Gilroy’s self-insert about him.

I do wish LFL would abandon simply naming their shows after the main character - presumably it’s for general audience recognition and algorithmic reasons, but my god how boring. If the show had been marketed as the ensemble it actually is I would take less issue with the lack of Cassian focus. But sadly I’m not sure we know that much more about Cassian at the end of the show than we did at the end of the first three episodes - or really, what it adds to his character and arc we see in Rogue One.

Yes he’s further radicalised by his experiences and is now presumably "all in" on the rebellion, but the events of the show are kicked off by Cassian searching for his sister which is a motivation that is all but dropped thereafter - although at one point I was half-expecting (dreading) it to be revealed that Luthen's assistant Kleya Marki was Kerri (and sidebar, Kleya - what a stone cold bitch! I love a stone cold bitch).

This plot will likely continue in season 2, but it felt a bit undercooked and too deep in the subtext given the prominence it had in kicking off the narrative. We get a flashback to Cassian’s childhood, but ultimately it feels like lipservice to his Indigenous heritage rather than true engagement since we don't see him reflect on it in any way, nor does it seem to have any impact on his choices throughout the series that seem primarily motivated by his life and relationships on Ferrix.

We get a strong start to Cassian and Luthen that peters out - he's intent on recruiting Cassian, but then writes him off when Cassian flees after Aldhani and wants him killed, then goes all the way to Ferrix for him, but is about to leave without actually doing anything? I know Luthen's meant to be ambiguous, but this is one area where plot is obviously driving things not character. I get that it was important for Cassian to be the one to go to Luthen at the end and choose the Rebellion unfetted, but the relationship is undercooked. I almost feel like the series is a procession of things that happen to Cassian rather than a journey I was on with him. There's external forces, but very little internal focus.

However, what I did love about the show was the thematic resonance that was happening on a macro and micro level - while the show as a whole is a mirror/reflection of the OT, we also see dichotomy in the character pairings that are mirrors and/or foils of each other in various ways - we have the two sides of the conflict being Empire and Rebellion (with Cassian stuck in the middle), and we are also shown conflict within those two sides.

Mon Mothma and Luthen Rael

The most obvious mirror/foil pair as the two sides of the Rebellion, although arguably we have a third prong in Saw Gerrara, and kind of a mirror in Luthen as Cassian’s mentor as Saw was Jyn’s - and I do wonder about the show that was a two-handed prequel with Cassian and Jyn growing up in different factions of the Rebellion, but alas.

The artifact Luthen gives Mon represents “a sun goddess and a serpent sharing the same mouth” representing their differing philosophical approach to fighting the Empire. As mirror characters they are alike in many ways - both of the privileged class and living double lives on Coruscant, but while Mon makes political efforts to move the needle on the Empire's activities in the Senate while also funneling money to direct but small rebel efforts, Luthen outright pokes the bear, sacrifices allies, and knowingly making things worse to swell the ranks of the rebellion on the hope it will speed up progress. There's more than a hint of the incrementalism/revolutionary dichotomy here.

It also raises a lot of interesting questions without (rightly) providing many answers - the struggle of the oppressed, the moral weight of insurgency and revolution. Is it right to intentionally provoke an oppressive power into reacting with violence in order to fuel a greater pushback against them? Is short term suffering justified if it achieves eventual victory, and is it right for the few to decide what is a justifiable sacrifice? What are our responsibilities to each other under the threat of/struggle against authoritarianism? As social commentary it's more timely than ever.

Whether Mon or Luthen is right for the viewer to decide, although as Leia tells Tarkin in ANH: "the more you tighten your grip, the more star systems will slip through your fingers." On the other hand, we know Mon survives to the end of the Empire while Luthen (I assume) will not. She will become a leading figure in the Alliance, and eventual Chancellor of the New Republic, while he will be another stone at the bottom of the pond.

This is foreshadowed in the dialogue (with a direct mirror reference):

Arguably however, the mirror is the show - we are the audience.

We know Cassian joins Luthen at the end of season 1, and will meet Mon in season 2, so it will be interesting to see him struggle between these two philosophies, although we can infer from Rogue One that he aligns himself (out of necessity) with Luthen's veiwpoint:

"We've all done terrible things on behalf of the Rebellion. Spies, saboteurs, assassins....And every time I walked away from something I wanted to forget, I told myself it was for a cause that I believed in. A cause that was worth it. Without that, we're lost."

But I had mixed feelings on the Mon Mothma storyline. It feels a bit off for Luthen to be her entrée into the Rebellion, when we know she’s been on the ground from the very beginning with the Petition of the 2000 (cut from ROTS, but still canon I assume). She just felt very isolated and fragile which is at odds with her quiet steel that we see in Return of the Jedi and Rogue One. I could maybe see this Mon in the early dark days, but only 5 years before ANH? A scene with Bail Organa would not have gone amiss just to give breadth to her rebellious activities.

We get to see Luthen visit Saw Gerrara on Segra Milo, why not give Mon a scene with Bail to show she has other irons in the fire rather than relying on Luthen? In Saw we see the rough and tumble of disparate rebel factions, I would have liked to see the political machinations of Mon and Bail to serve the metaphor even further.

She is more than just a bank for the rebellion, and I think in the effort to contrast Luthen and Mon there was a bit of disservice done to the latter.

And Mon’s loser husband - ugh. Okay they’re in some kind of arranged marriage but there’s very little substance, nothing us particularly revealed about Mon by including him. Other than her cleverly using his gambling debts to deflect her rebellion spending at the end, the story wouldn’t really have changed by him not existing, and in fact would have been improved by focusing more on Mon’s difficult relationship with her daughter.

But on a purely shallow note, I want her wardrobe!

Dedra Meero and Syril Karn

In some ways Cassian and Syril are the narrative foils and there are parallels between them - their conflict instigated in the first episodes, their maternal relationships, both essentially exiles for the middle section before both end up back on Ferrix where Cassian saves Bix and Syril saves Dedra. But I feel Syril and Dedra work better as mirrors, and their arcs also parallel and intersect.

In the Empire, Dedra and Syril are two sides of the other coin (there's quite a few coins in this metaphor). Regimes need bureaucracy, and you have the true believers, the status-climbers, and those just going along to get along. In Dedra we have the talented star of the prestigious Imperial Security Bureau, and in Syril the over eager Corporate Security officer, two arms of the Empire’s control, although the latter we see becoming obsolete as the former gains more control.

But they're both middlemen who chafe against the inaction of their superiors, both desperate to rise above their station (although those stations are quite far apart). Throughout the series their plots are mostly in parallel; they are reflections of each other without even having met.

It's uncomfortable to watch both of them on screen - all unblinking stares, sucked in cheeks, and pursed lips - fittingly repellent. I’m surprised Gilroy has said he wrote Dedra to be relatable - she skeeved me out from the first, someone clearly ready to step over anyone and everyone if it served her purposes rather than someone gradually drawn further into an authoritarian regime. There's the slight subtext of sexism - there's only one other women in the ISB briefing and Pendergast alludes to it, but that certainly didn't engender any sympathy or admiration from me.

In episode 7 Syril’s mother Eedy says “Everything says something, Syril” and chastises him about tailoring his uniform (just as he did in the first episode, a neat little character tell), and immediately after we see Dedra donning her uniform perfectly in sync with the rest of the ISB. He’s trying to stand out from the crowd, she’s trying to fit in - or, from a different perspective, Syril adjusts his collar to resemble the Imperial style as a signifier of where he wants to be, while Dedra is already there and still looking higher.

But both are thinking outside the rigid Imperial lines and command structures, both on the hunt for Cassian - although for Syril it's personal and Dedra it's about climbing the ranks. Both take it upon themselves to investigate against orders, but Syril’s attempts are clumsy and random while Dedra’s are clinical and targeted.

She identifies that “systems either change or die” to push the ISB’s fragmented and bureaucratic inefficiencies into a cohesive power structure, but while it wins her approval it doesn’t earn her any loyalty; her troops abandon her to the mob on Ferrix. Inexplicably though, Syril does manage to gain the loyalty of Sergeant Mosk, who was also punished for the initial blunder on Ferrix, but ultimately draws Syril back there to in search of Cassian.

The point at which they first intersect in episode 8, Dedra is on an upswing, she holds the power and sends Syril further down, but when they meet again in episode 11, the roles are reversed as he is the one to save her from the mob.

I just hope they’re going somewhere more interesting than his creepy crush.

Vel Sartha and Cinta Kaz

One of the major faults of Rogue One was its Smurfette Syndrome, where Jyn is a great female character surrounded by men, but Andor has pleasingly course corrected from this. See what happens when you don’t have one woman having to embody everything and bear the weight of her entire gender in the narrative (and therefore, also bear the criticism)? Andor happily treats its women as characters, not faux-empowering meme-fodder. Although there is perhaps some valid commentary that it’s still white women on the whole - Dedra, Mon, Vel, Maarva - who get the meatier roles, and I have my issues with Mon’s characterisation, but one thing I will give Disney LFL credit for is it’s ongoing efforts towards gender parity.

Cinta’s cool reserve is a contrast to Vel’s nerves (as seen in the Aldhani raid); they’re coming from very different places even if their cause is the same. There may even be a bit of classism in the subtext - Vel leads the mission on Aldhani after asking for the mission from Luthen, when really Cinta is the one who is most committed, and she has to push Vel though several times when she falters.

Vel still has one foot in the Imperial world and the complications of rebellious machinations - worried for Mon and her family, wanting to prove herself to Luthen, jockeying with Kleya - but for Cinta none of that matters, she loves Vel but there's often a sense she's disappointed in her. There's a dichotomy within Cinta - she's not unfeeling, showing kindness to Cassian when he joins their group, yet accepting the mission to kill him later without hesitation.

It seems to me that Cinta is the revolutionary Vel wants to be but can't quite divest herself of enough to become - the metaphor is made explicit with these two - Cinta tells Vel: “I’m a mirror. You love me because I show you what you need to see.”

Which is a pretty interesting dynamic, especially as a romantic one, and I’m interested to see where it will go (and hope that Cinta will get more focus, even though I do love Vel a lot too).

Their storyline did run out of steam by the end through, was there any point to either of these characters being on Ferrix at the end? It very much felt like all the plot lines were being forced to intersect at the climax without all of them necessarily needing to. Although Cinta stabbing that guy in the heart was pretty cathartic.

Bix Callen, Maarva Andor, and Ferrix

I loved Ferrix as a location, with its own distinct aesthetic, culture, and populace - the work gloves all hung on the wall, the metal tapping warning system, the daily hammer and anvil (the Time Grappler, according to Wookieepedia), funerary practices. etc. The first few episodes set up Cassian’s community on Ferrix which we come full circle on in the final two, but I did have some trouble keeping track of who was who at that point.

It is interesting that the trope of “just another brick in the wall” is turned on its head here - rather than representing a cog in the machine, in Ferrix ashes of the deceased are mixed with brick and added to a wall in remembrance - a literal touchstone for Cassian as he remembers his adoptive father Clem. A wall is strong, a bulwark against outside forces, and every brick added makes it stronger. Stones dropped in a pond, bricks built into a wall - reminders of the dead that spur the will to fight.

I do love the relationship between Maarva and Cassian, especially in a franchise that has never really had an interest in mothers and sons. And we have another mirror in the overcritical and cold relationship between Syril and Eedy as the inverse of Cassian’s complicated but loving one with Maarva - contrast the reception Syril gets when he returns home to the one Cassian gets from Maarva, as ultimately Eedy's pointed disappointment is sharp where Maarva's is borne from love and concern for Cassian.

But again there’s a disconnect with the history we’re shown - Maarva and Clem kidnap/save Kassa from Kenari but we don’t really get any sense of how Cassian feels about it or the connection he has to his heritage/childhood. I’m not saying I need everything spelled out, but sometimes I feel the show does err too much on the side of subtext, and as a result we don’t delve as deep into some of the relationships as we could have. Even her final message to Cassian - that she loves him more than anything he could ever do wrong - is a beautiful sentiment, but is it earned? He hasn't really done anything wrong, arguably she did wrong by him by taking him from Kenari but it's never even mentioned, it doesn’t even seem to be a factor in their relationship as adults.

On the other hand, I didn’t mind the treatment of the post-romantic relationship between Cassian and Bix - there’s a sense of history there but it didn’t need to be explored further. Bix's involvement in the Rebellion is interesting though, it's implied she was recruited by Kleya through the black market but are her motives purely profit or does she have rebellious fervor? Luthen knows of Cassian through Bix - did she see him as a candidate for the Rebellion or just another person from whom Luthen could obtain tech? What piqued Luthen's interest from what Bix said about him?

I don't think all these questions need answers, but it is unfortunate that she does get a bit Damseled, spending most of the runtime threatened, captured, and then tortured. On the other hand, there's less to criticise in employing that trope when it's not the only one at work and the breadth of female characters on the show.

I do wonder if we will see Bix, Brasso, and B2EMO again though, or if they’re a part of Cassian’s past he had to leave behind to fully commit himself to the Rebellion.

On nostalgia, fanservice, and the state of the Star Wars universe

A tangent into my frustrations with the sequel trilogy, skip if you’re allergic to salt.

Andor has been lauded for its lack of fanservice, although I’d actually argue it’s a show that (perhaps despite Gilroy's intention) is rooted in nostalgia. Well, perhaps not nostalgia per se, but it’s a show that relies on the audience’s knowledge and affection of Rogue One and the Original Trilogy, and it’s successful because it manages to feel authentic and fulfilling rather than ham-fisted and overly meta - a story set in the Star Wars universe, not about the Star Wars universe.

I know Gilroy intended this to be able to stand alone, but would the story have the same resonance if we weren't aware where Cassian's path leads, that the efforts and actions of Mon and Luthern, Vel and Cinta, Nemik, Bix and Kleya, are ultimately justified? Perhaps it would work in a generic sci-fi setting rather than the GFFA, but would we feel as much watching it? Personally, I think not.

Because nostalgia isn’t inherently bad. It’s a vital part of how we consume media - the stories that resonate with us in childhood will continue to resonate in adulthood because they are foundational, it's a shortcut to that incredible feeling of discovering something new that's nonetheless something very old. It's partly why Star Wars was such a success in the first place - a mix of myth and fairy tale, matinee serial and Kurosawa - a familiar story told in a new way. And like in Hadestown, "we're gonna sing it again and again."

The problem with nostalgia is when it’s empty; window dressing intended to evoke that feeling but without any substance behind it, so it feels cheap and unsatisfying. Andor doesn’t completely escape from this (blue milk, mouse droid), but most inclusions feel organic.

Sometimes I think we go to far decrying fanservice, and of course it's subjective - as I like to say, everyone hates it until they’re the fan being serviced. But there is criticism, and then there's dismissing any references to existing material as mere "fanservice" and therefore contemptible. For example, I’ve seen the treatment of Luke, Han, and Leia in the sequel trilogy defended because to actually have them interact at all would be “silly fanservice” rather than natural because, you know, they’re family.

Mon Mothma or Saw Gerrara in Andor doesn’t feel like fanservice even though they’re existing characters, because it makes sense to include them in a story about the Rebellion’s beginning and they had a part to play in Rogue One, to which Andor is ostensibly a prequel. Conversely Leia and Vader’s inclusion in Obi-Wan Kenobi (even if I did enjoy them both) tip over in the side of fanservice because they really have no place in Obi-Wan’s story at that point and require fanwanking around their dialogue in ANH (and to be fair, Lucas was guilty of this as well). I don’t need to see random object or minor character no 6 from the PT/OT/Clone Wars, iconic catch phrase shoved where it doesn’t make sense, or obscure Legends reference divorced from context, just tell me a good story! Give me characters to care about! Make me feel something! Andor did that, where much of the other Disney Star Wars content has not.

This is my fundamental, and possibly at this point, irreconcilable, issue. Disney wanted to get away from Lucas-associated Star Wars as quickly as possible, replacing every character, planet, and theme with their own wholly Disney counterpart, killing off Han, Luke, and Leia so the old and classic couldn’t distract from the shiny and new, tearing down the conclusion of the original trilogy only to try and tell the exact same story (just not as well). They did it so quickly and so shoddily that many were understandably unsatisfied, leaving Disney to frantically course correct, going back to the well and shoving nostalgia bait into every conceivable project even (especially) if it had no place.

If they’d actually had any sort of plan for the sequel trilogy, if they’d made their focus to conclude the Skywalker Saga in a way that even approached emotional resonance, imo the vast majority of the audience would be happy to move on and embrace the next chapter - new characters, new stories. But people can’t move on from the characters they love because the treatment of those characters and the post-ROTJ timeline was so unsatisfying. Luke wouldn’t have needed to show up in The Mandolorian to try and placate the fans if treatment of the character in the ST hasn’t been so abysmal.

So LFL have been stuck in this weird ancillary storytelling space, where every project seemingly needs to be adjacent to the Skywalker Saga but not actually engaging with the Saga direct - Han has a prequel film no one asked for, Rey is a Skywalker for name recognition only, Luke pops up in pointless cameos but isn’t there when he arguably should be (just recast the damn role already!), we get young Leia in a story where she has no place rather than in one she does, who knows what’s going on with the whole Ashoka/Thrawn/Heir to the Empire stuff, Boba Fett is There with a parade of Hey it’s that character/ship/thing with no contribution to the actual storytelling.

What does this have to do with Andor? Well, Andor is perhaps the only quality tv product of the Disney era, which is fitting since Rogue One is imo the only quality film of the Disney era (TFA being retroactively diminished by what came after). Andor is the type of story Star Wars should be telling - expanding the universe, using known elements and characters where it makes sense to do so, not a collection of ideas on a whiteboard thrown in front of an LED screenstage and a bunch of meaningless easter eggs.

To be fair, this does seem what they are attempting to do with The Acolyte (which I am actually enjoying!) but the planned Rey-focused post-ST film…eh. Admittedly I never bothered to watch Rise of Skywalker, but where can the story possibly go? Is there any investment at all after the mess that was the sequel trilogy? I can’t see how the narrative can possibly be redeemed at this point, which is a shame because I do believe it started with a lot of promise in The Force Awakens that was squandered by a lack of vision, planning, and oversight, and the bizarre need to brutalise and kill off the legacy characters, marginalise the genuinely original and interesting new characters, and waste the immense acting talent they had at their disposal.

They’ve made no meaningful in-universe progress after the ST, the New Republic and Jedi have to be rebuilt again, except Rey is going to do it this time somehow, so what what the point of the last 30 years in the timeline? It’s different with Andor - we know where his story ends, but the series only makes Cassian’s sacrifice stronger, there’s emotional resonance in seeing his journey to Rogue One in knowing that it’s in service of the overall victory of the Rebellion (however undermined that victory is made by the ST).

But I digress. This rant really ended up being kind of off topic - apologies.

Anyway. Andor is good! I liked it! Looking forward to season 2!

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years ago

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me to me: you will not get burn out from writing 100, 000 words in six weeks

Part One ¦ Part Two ¦ Part Three ¦ Part Four ¦ Part Five ¦ Part Six ¦ Part Seven ¦ Part Eight ¦ Part Nine ¦ Part Ten ¦ Part Eleven ¦ Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

In five hundred years, Cassian had never known his brother to be anything other than calculating and wise. Wise beyond his years, in fact. No decision was ever rushed. Until this one. Until they had scant time to scoop up two mortal females with their belongings then save Nesta before she became fodder for a pyre. Cassian had at least expected Rhys to have had a conversation with Nesta’s sisters about bringing them to Velaris.

Instead, him and Azriel stood at the end of the path on guard while Rhys received a verbal lashing from Nesta’s youngest sister on the door step. It appeared that all of the Archeron sisters liked to cause trouble. This one had also apparently stabbed Rhys in the hand. Then went for a second attempt. Azriel had laughed himself hoarse and declared that Rhys needed to start training again.

‘The villagers will come for you when they can’t find your sister.’

‘Then we won’t answer the door.’

Rhys was close to tearing his perfectly styled hair out from going in circles with the mortal. ‘And they will just go away then? Are you that foolish to believe that?’

‘Elain is engaged to a man from the village. We cannot run away to Prythian with faeries we don’t know.’

‘You know Cassian and we’ve met previously. Out of the three of us, Azriel is the most virtuous so you really have nothing to worry about. Many females would love the opportunity to gallivant to Prythian with us.’

Cassian’s skin was crawling. That fiery bond which connected him to Nesta the moment she’d offered him food was itching so close to her. He was desperate to find her. He had to keep tamping down on those instincts to leave the others and seek her out. It was too dangerous for them to be here again. Dangerous to linger so long. Especially when their general could not focus on anything but the curve of Nesta’s lips.

‘Stop saying females. We are women.’

Feyre was going toe to toe with Rhys, meeting him with every snap and snarl, not caring who he was. Cassian wasn’t even sure if she knew just who he really was.

‘Feyre, I am asking you, do you truly believe this Graysen won’t be part of the witch hunt that is after Nesta? Do you truly believe his father – with the largest manor in your village – won’t be leading the hunt?’

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, uncertainty settling in. Cassian had seen the manor the night he’d been shot. It was a fortress of stone and ash. Perfect for hurting the fae. He was a male with the most to lose from their perfect harvests coming to an end without Nesta's sacrifice.

‘Will your father come to your aid?’

The uncertainty bloomed. Feyre shifted on her feet. ‘And if we wanted to return here?’

‘Then you have my word it will happen. You are not a prisoner. This is to save you.’ Before any of them could react, Rhys had slit open his palm so ruby red blood dribbled from it.

‘What the fuck is he doing?’ Azriel hissed.

‘On my blood, I vow that you will come to no harm, Feyre Archeron. You or your sisters.’

That seemed to be enough to convince her. The prick had never sworn a blood vow to them in five centuries.

‘I need five minutes to pack,’ she murmured as she slipped back through the front door.

Azriel whirled on his high lord. ‘What is wrong with you? A blood vow? To a mortal?’

A guilty expression took over Rhys’ usual confident exterior. His brows tugged together. ‘I don’t know. I just had to do it. I can't explain it.’

The shadow singer pressed two fingers to his temples with a wearied sigh. ‘I have a high lord spilling his blood for a mortal girl and a general who is panting like a dog at the thought of seeing her sister. Why is Mor not here with me for support?’

‘She’s waiting in Velaris preparing their rooms so they feel more comfortable.’

‘I hope Nesta’s is soundproofed from whatever unspeakable acts those two are about to commit.’

There was a smell of smoke on the air. Cassian’s heart thumped harder with every passing minute. If they waited any longer then Nesta could be in serious danger.

When the two sisters emerged, the middle one was sobbing. She clutched at Feyre who pulled her further out of the doorway with a grunt. Only one bag was stuffed with clothes and whatever else they deigned worthy of bringing to Prythian. It had to be scary for them – and Cassian was trying his best not to rush them, but he had waited long enough for Nesta.

‘You can take the crying one,’ he murmured to Azriel then shoved him forwards a step.

The middle one did not want to go. She begged Feyre to see sense, vowed that her fiancée would never do such a thing. She’d even said a prayer when Azriel had stepped closer to her and extended an arm.

‘Very sorry,’ Cassian said, striding towards her, ‘We don’t have time for this.’

Roughly, he hauled Elain over his shoulder and started for the woods. He felt a hand smack his arm and the youngest was there stinging him over and over like a wasp.

‘Rhysand.’

Rhys sucked in a breath. ‘Sorry, Feyre.’ His magic enveloped her, wrapping around her thrashing ankles and wrists to bind them then Rhys had her in his arms.

Behind them, Azriel spluttered. ‘Are we seriously kidnapping mortals?’

‘You can carry the bag,’ Cassian grunted before breaking into flight.

***

‘Do not rush it, Lucien. Has a woman never told you that good things aren’t to be rushed? We must go slow and enjoy every moment.’

‘I’ve never had complaints,’ he replied, as he dipped another rag into the faerie wine that Nesta had stolen from the Spring Court.

‘No, I suppose your hand cannot speak back to you.’

Lucien laughed with a sardonic shake of the head. ‘When the general of the Night Court spikes your head outside the Hewn City, I will try to pay a visit to admire his work.’

‘Maybe he’ll chop off yours and spike it next to mine. Then we can talk for eternity.’

‘I’d rather a crow pecked my eyes out.’

Nesta wrinkled up her nose. ‘Don’t you mean eye?’

‘You are not a nice person,’ Lucien admonished as they finished setting up her ring of pyres.

‘I never claimed to be.’

The pyres were almost all connected by a ring of clothing that she had chopped into rags and soaked in alcohol. The circle was broken only to create a path to the cabin. Nesta had roped Lucien into helping her collect the rest of her kills from snares and the male had been kind enough to take down a deer for her with a cleverly timed arrow through its rib cage. Its head was mounted above her door and they’d feasted on the rich meat throughout the day as they worked. They spread its organs like a macabre pathway to her door.

Lucien had claimed to have bedded a witch and offered more advice to make her home convincing. He also claimed to have bedded a dryad, a water nymph, and even a norn. Nesta had asked him why he thought she’d be interested in his sexual exploits and he gave a dazzling smile instead of an answer. Thank goodness he’d not been the one to land on her roof or she would have beaten him with the broom until he died.

‘It’s a long way to the Hewn City from here. You might feel as if you’re suffocating. I don’t know if a mortal has ever winnowed that far. You might die.’

‘My death will be on your hands.’

‘I shall try not to weep, my lady.’

Nesta inspected her work as the final rays of sun bleached the sky to a bruised blue. ‘On the contrary, I’d prefer it if you did. Mourn me like a saint.’

They drank a cup of the faerie wine in a toast; Nesta tipped most of hers into the snow to Lucien’s horror because it tasted like anise and fire on her tongue. She’d coughed through her first mouthful.

‘Nesta Archeron – the exile.’

‘The witch of the wood,’ Lucien said, sinking the remainder of his cup.

With his keen hearing, Lucien could make out the sounds of at least twenty sets of boots trampling through the snow towards them. But Nesta didn’t make a move until she heard it herself. Sure enough, the men from her village were surrounding her cabin on all sides like wolves shepherding their pray. Their torches bled into the darkness, pinpointing their positions.

‘Are you ready, my lady?’

Nesta knelt in the snow, not caring that it soaked through her dress to her stockings and spread. Sparks burst from her striker then her kindling caught alight.

Lucien yanked her back as the pyre burst into flames though the ends of her hair were singed from the smell of it.

‘How strong is that alcohol?’

‘Strong,’ Lucien replied. ‘It’s from the Day Court. Thank them.’

The pyre burnt then the flames crawled to the rag that connected it to the next and the next until her cabin in the woods was ringed by massive fires that billowed smoke into the night.

‘An excellent use of the Spring Court hay, I must say.’

‘It looks beautiful, doesn’t it?’

The villagers were closing in around them, their cries and shouts of “witch” growing ever louder. They clamoured for her death. For one to steak her through the heart.

‘Can I add a touch?’ Lucien asked, nudging her with his elbow.

She had the sense he quite liked teasing mortals. He’d teased her enough that day – and she to him. Nesta nodded, ‘As long as it’s not murder.’

‘I’ll try to refrain.’

Lucien swept his hand through the air then ball of flame gathered itself in his palm. It burnt as red as blood. He tossed it at the roof then watched in appreciation as it burnt.

‘Green is more witch-like.’

Nesta heard his small, reluctant laugh but sure enough, the flames devouring the roof of her cabin turned a shade of emerald and the edges were tinged with black.

The scarred male extended his hand to her, ‘My lady?’

***

Most of the villagers were pissing their pants and running in the other direction when they got to the woods. If terror wasn’t squeezing every muscle of his body, Cassian might have laughed at whatever Nesta had done to them.

He hefted a crying Elain into Azriel’s arms like she was a sack of flour.

He bellowed Nesta’s name.

An arrow flew at them, narrowly skimming past his wing. His siphons flashed in answer, ready for a fight after weeks spent cooped up in Illyria.

‘Where is she?’

The cabin had been transformed into a nightmare. Rhys had told him as much, but it was different to see it for himself. There was blood smeared all over the walls outside, the roof was aflame, and they could barely see through all the smoke. His Nesta who had cried when he'd tried to get her to kill a rabbit had managed this.

With their eyesight, they had an advantage at least over the villagers who were stumbling blindly across the snow, covering their eyes with their cloaks to stop the smoke stinging them.

Again, Cassian called her name.

But something wasn’t right.

The bond between them was taut once more as though Nesta had gone far away. He’d know if she was hurt. He’d tear the world apart to find her.

‘Cass, we can’t keep these mortals here.’

Another arrow hit the tree beside Azriel.

‘They serve the witch!’

The mortals only saw three massive, winged fingers through the smoke, illuminated by the twisting ribbons of flame. They did not know they were fae.

‘She’s pretending she’s a witch,’ Cassian muttered under his breath. ‘Of course, she is.’

‘If she knows a way to Spring, she might have gone there,’ Azriel said. His own cobalt siphons were bright in the dark, anticipating a fight against these mortal men.

Cassian couldn’t deny that he wanted to hurt them. They had come for his mate. They’d have broken her before they killed her.

‘I’ll take them to Velaris. Then return here. Find Nesta. Az – don’t lose him.’

Elain still cried even as she was placed into Rhys’ arms, but Feyre at least had set her mouth into a thin line as she watched the remainder of her villagers ransack the cabin in search of Nesta.

The situation wasn’t ideal. All Cassian could think of was that his mate might be running through these woods with fear in her heart, running from her death. His temper was on the edge. Azriel would be stuck to him, ensuring he didn’t go too far. But if he couldn’t find Nesta then there were no limits to what he wouldn’t do.

A wind whipped through the woods, clearing a sheet of smoke.

Two mortals guarding the front of the property whirled towards them, swords raised. The younger one stopped.

‘Elain?’

It made Elain stop crying. Her face fell into disbelief.

‘You would… You would harm my sister?’

‘Faeries,’ the other man bellowed, rousing the remaining mortals.

From the corner of his eye, Cassian saw Rhys disappear into nothing, taking the younger two Archerons with him.

‘Ready brother?’ Azriel asked, voice low and dangerous.

They would only do to the mortals what they sought to do to them. For every raise of the sword, the Illyrians met them with lethal accuracy. The ones that ran, could run. They’d let them go. Let them believe they served the witch who haunted these woods.

When it was done, when nine mortal men lay dead in the snow, they stopped.

Their blood was indistinguishable from the blood already spread by Nesta. Cassian knew in his heart that it was not hers. It could not be. He would know if any harm had come to her.

His instincts were pushing at the seams, determined to come out. If he let them, Cassian would slaughter that whole village, including the father who never fought for Nesta; the one who let her be exiled.

They flew low through the trees, hunting for a lone figure making her way to the Wall. Even with their vision, no tracks could be seen upon the fresh snow.

‘She’s not here.’

‘I fucking know that,’ Cassian snarled.

They landed back at the cabin then seconds later, Rhys winnowed in. ‘No sign of her?’

Azriel moved quickest, shoving Cassian back before he could get to Rhys. He couldn’t take these stupid questions. Every minute that they’d tarried had been a minute that they pushed Nesta closer to danger. He never should have agreed to finding her last. Never should have waited until darkness. They could have swept in, winnowed to the door and taken her. Taken her weeks ago rather than locking him up in Illyria.

Rhys sniffed the air. ‘That’s Helion’s wine.’

‘I don’t give a shit if the Mother herself made the wine.’

His violet eyes narrowed on roof. ‘It’s green. Fire isn't usually green.’

‘Azriel, protect your high lord because I’m about to knock his teeth out.’

Rhys held up a hand. ‘It’s burning by magic.’

‘Autumn? Not Eris, surely not.’

Azriel’s shadows darkened as they slithered across the ground like vipers. ‘You said she’s been going to Spring.’

‘Lucien Vanserra.’

‘If that little Vanserra whelp touches her, I will make him wish his father had killed him.’

@mis-lil-red

#the exile and the injured #giving nesta beatrice vibes from much ado about nothing when she argues with lucien

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staytiny-yaps · 3 years ago

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hi girly!!! Your writing is so o good and your Azriel imagine really got me HOOKED. So i would love to request if that's okay. 💕 i would love like a protective azriel, maybe like during the meeting of all the High Lords when the tension is already thick (jsjs thanks tamlin). Maybe someone says something to her and Azriel becomes ❤motherhen❤. U can totes go in a diff direction, no problem. Thanks❤❤

A/n: Had to read a full recap of this chapter to answer this that's how fking long its been omg. Their relationship was heavily inspired by this song. Anyways here you are my love, hope you enjoy ❤❤❣

Warning: Heavier cursing than I usually write, derogatory terms used (Eris being a bitch)

Dawn Court Defining

Everyone assumes Azriel is so quiet and subdued, shy if you will, because of his profession.

As a spy, it's in his job description to lay low, stay quiet and fly under the radar as Azriel frequently does even in more social settings.

Despite this, Y/n L/n, one of the best spies Velaris has even seen, is loud and boisterous, extravagant and outgoing.

After training underneath Azriel for years on end, Y/n eventually became his partner and while Azriel is a fairly independent male, he has to admit it is rather helpful to have her around.

You'd expect their directly opposing personalities to clash, but the two in fact got along very well and worked perfectly as a team.

She was the Sun and he was the Moon, complimentary personalities where one wouldn't be the same without the other.

Sometimes Azriel watched Y/n having fun with Mor and Cassian on a night out, laughing and drinking, always to return to his side at the end of the night and he couldn't help but think; perhaps they were soulmates.

Two souls that together complete one another no matter when and no matter where. He liked to think that in all past and future lives their souls found each other again and again.

It was this reassurance that at the end of a night of alcohol and dancing, Y/n would return home with him, that alleviated his stress at the fact that she would go to sleep in her own room in their shared apartment.

It didn't matter to him that they weren't yet in a relationship because he knew that when the time was right, it would happen and for now he still got to wrap his arm around her as she read to him on their couch each night.

Something they learned to do a long time ago, was Azriel would focus his attention on listening and Y/n would focus hers on seeing. In this way they could gather more details from both.

Y/n was stood next to Azriel, her arms crossed, pointed ears showing as her hair was pulled back. Azriel's shadows seemed to brush up against her as if they too appreciated her closeness.

She was completely tuned out of the conversations happening within this High Lord Meeting, analysing every little shift in each individual's body language.

Aware of everyone around her, she brought her attention back to the dialogue as she felt Azriel tense up beside her.

Glancing between Azriel, Eris and Morrigan, Y/n quickly picked up where the conversation had gone. Azriel seemed poised to leap up and lunge for Eris if one more comment left his lips.

Noticing this, Y/n laid a hand on Azriel's bicep and tugged on it causing him to snap his attention towards her.

She leaned into his ear and whispered to him.

"Remember what Rhys said. This needs to go well for us, you can't do anything. Just relax, Az." His body did indeed relax under her touch and she pulled back from his ear, but curled her arm around his bicep and left it there.

"That's right, listen to your whore. Stand down like a good little dog." Y/n's hand tightened on Azriel's arm to keep him back as he fumed.

"Fuck did you just call me?" She asked, with a venom that even Rhysand's Inner Circle had never heard before.

"I called you a whore, you fae bitch. You'd think a spy as good as you supposedly are would know that. Though I guess all you're really good for is taming this-" He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Azriel has shredded through all defensive wards and has Eris pinned against the wall by his throat.

"Azriel!" Y/n yelled out as he pressed his hand harder into Eris' throat. Eris' face was turning red as he lost his breath and Azriel was whispering something into his ear. He waited until Eris nodded before letting him go.

Azriel turned back to Y/n where she stood next to the now empty chair by Feyre.

"You should tread carefully Shadowsinger, she's not worth all this." Azriel whipped back around and punched Eris in the jaw before anyone could even blink.

"Enough! Azriel!" Y/n leapt over to him and pulled him back to his seat.

He withdrew quickly and let Y/n pull him back to the seat, he knew he shouldn't have done that, but he didn't regret it.

He could've killed him. He should've. For what he did to Mor and what he said about Y/n. The nerve. He didn't even know Y/n, how dare he talk about her like that?

Azriel's face was flushed red with anger, his whole body felt hot.

His girl. His girl. His. Girl.

As if she knew he was contemplating standing back up and finishing the job, Y/n slid her body onto the arm of his chair and sat there, reaching her arm out to lay over his shoulders.

After simmering down and using Y/n's touch to ground himself, Azriel laid a protective arm over Y/n's leg that was propped up on the arm of the chair she had sat on.

He stayed this way the rest of the meeting and as they left, he kept his hand on the small of her back.

🔸️

Azriel's normally protective, but after the debacle that was the High Lords Meeting, he was extraordinarily so.

He finally seemed to be staking a claim on Y/n, warning anyone who came close not that she was taken, but that if anyone tried to hurt her, be would rip them apart.

He knew if he tried to show she was 'unavailable' she would get upset at him for being possessive. And so he settled for showing she was protected.

"You're glaring at everything, Az." She finally said as they walked through the Dawn Court Territory.

"I'm aware." Is all he says and she stops walking. The skies are pink, the clouds are fluffy and Azriel seems to be glowing pink in the light.

"Azriel." He turns to face her, her hand gripping his.

"Look at the sky. How can you be glaring right now?" She asks and he huffs.

"Eris just-"

"Eris isn't here right now." She used his hand to pull him close to her. She placed both hands on each of his shoulders and tilted his face to look up at the sky, pressing her chest to his.

"But I'm here. Me, Y/n, hello!" He stifled a chuckle and she gripped his chin and tilted it back down to look at her. Shaking his face side to side a bit, her growing smile more beautiful than the pink skies could ever be.

"And you, Azriel the Shadowsinger. You're here too." A finger came up to trace the round edge of his ear. She giggled and Azriel couldn't stifle the chuckle that left him this time.

"You, me and a gorgeous view, but no Eris. Yes?" He nodded at her and she pressed her forehead onto his.

"Azriel?" He sighed playfully, bringing his hands up to land on her waist.

"Yes." He let out within a small, deep laugh.

"Right, so can we stop huffing and puffing about someone who isn't even here and enjoy the very rare leisurely time outside of Velaris?" She asks finally and he grins.

"Yes."

"Great! Now, my Protective Overgrown Bat! Why don't we head back and have dinner with the others and then go find our bed for the night?" He nodded, his breath catching and let the excited Fae Woman pull him along towards food.

They had had fallen asleep together many times on the couch, or shared beds when on missions where there was only one available. They had never had a choice between sharing and sleeping separate and chosen to share.

It just seemed like that would be a step towards an established relationship, but they were both having fun dancing around each other.

It now seemed as if Y/n was over that. It seemed that she wanted something new. Something more. And Azriel was more than happy to deliver.

🔸️

As the Inner Circle ate dinner, Y/n, Mor and Cassian dominated the conversation as usual.

Though Y/n fell unexpectedly silent as Helion entered. He had a history of trying to woo both her and Az into his bed.

At the sight of the flirtatious Lord, Azriel shuffled closer to Y/n and placed a hand on her thigh.

"Please, Shadowsinger. Everyone knows she's only yours, we were all wondering when you two would bite." Helion passes the two by and takes a seat next to Mor a cheeky smile growing.

"Excuse me? I am nobody's possession! I am not his. I-"

"I'm sorry, Y/n, I simply meant that anyone meaning to pursue you may as well give up on that dream as your heart so obviously lies with the Shadowsinger." Y/n's face heated up quickly and turned a bright red.

"Excuse me." Is all she says before standing, gripping Azriel's hand and storming out of the room.

She stalks silently through the halls slamming open to doors of the room her belongings were in.

"Y/n?" Azriel asks, closing her door and sitting down on her bed next to her.

"Sorry, Azzy I'm just a bit frustrated." She sighs and rubs her face with her hand.

After a moment of silence, she sits up and faces Azriel, now sitting sideways of the bed. Reaching out, she grabbed either side if Azriel's face softly and moved him to look at her.

His deep eyes bore into her, his skin warm and soft to her touch, his pretty hair was soft and fell slightly into his face.

She moved one hand the gently rake his hair out of his eyes.

"Hey." He greeted and she giggled.

"Hi." And then she kissed him. And it was magic. They'd waited for a feeling like this their whole lives. Azriel's shadows seemed to understand the momentous occasion as they flared and spread, surrounding Y/n completely.

Then she laughed against his lips and he tried to huff at her, but instead chuckled. And while the moment was passed, that magic that came alive when they connected for the first time, that lingered for a long, long time.

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar #acotar x readers #acotar x reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #sarah j maas #sjm #azzy deserves the world #fanfic #requests #god its been so long

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hellogoodbye14 · 3 years ago

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Okay I dunno if you take fic requests but I would love to read one from you based on this prompt 💕💕💕💕

Azriel complaining to Rhys about Nyx bullying him because he keeps asking for hugs and kisses and its harmful to his broody bat facade and "Cauldron Rhys I can't babysit him, HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY NO TO HIM!!!??" while Rhys laughs and the distressing effects of an adorable child on his spymaster.

I m just a sucker for fluff and fun and Uncle Az 😁😁😁

Ask and you shall receive fam ❤️ (also might have gone overboard with this but oh well!)

“Unci Assshh!”, yelled the adorable toddler from across the training field.

Nyx was walking - well more like stumbling- between Feyre and Rhys who each held onto one of his tiny hands to help him balance his walk.

His tiny wings ruffled with each excited step and Rhys just laughed at Nyx’s clumsiness and determination to get to the spymaster.

Feyre and Rhys let go as they neared Azriel and Nyx threw himself at Azriels right leg. Azriel chuckled and ruffled his nephews head. Nyx as usual tried to crawl up Azriels long leg and managed to get to his thigh this time. Azriel gently grabbed Nyx by the scruff of his shirt behind Nyx’s head, like one holds up a puppy. Nyx squeeled with laughter and reached out to play with the shadows around him.

“Hey little troublemaker”, said Azriel as he carefully moved Nyx to his shoulders. The toddler was now joyfully yanking at Azriels hair.

Feyre winced, “sorry Az, he’s been yanking at everyones hair these days.”

Azriel just smiled and said it was no problem at all.

His highlord then gave him a list. Yes a list. One he always gave if Nyx was left with anyone who had to babysit. He had the list at each of the houses. One specifically addressed to every.single.person. To say Rhys was a motherhen was an understatement.

Feyre just rolled her eyes at her mate and motioned Azriel to bend down so she could give Nyx a peck goodbye.

“Be good for uncle Az”

“Unciiii Asssshhhhh!” , the toddler yelled in excitement.

Rhys smiled at his son, “we’ll be back from winter court in about two hours at most. Thank you for doing it again. Oh also under any circumstances NO sugar for him.”

Azriel nodded as Rhys reached up and ruffled Nyx’s hair who in return waved at his father and said “byeee daaaaa!”

Azriel was about to turn and take Nyx flying when he bumped into Gwyn.

“Oh hey!” , but the valkyrie was already cooing at Nyx who now reached out his hands to be picked up by Gwyn.

“Look at you, you little munchkin!”, she grabbed his tiny fist and pretended to munch on them, “oh i could just eat you up.”

Nyx squeeled with laughter.

“Umm.. I’m still here you know.”

Gwyn looked up at a frowning Azriel.

“You get my attention at training everyday, this one is too adorable to ignore.”

Azriel shook his head and rolled his eyes. His shadows as always were reaching out to Gwyn, and Nyx was taking full advantage of it and playing with them.

“Guys!”

Emerie came running out, “we need to go to Illyria for a bit, Nesta says they need help with the commanders meeting.”

Azriel frowned, “Cassian needs me to look over the trainees while he deals with the commanders?”

“Yeap”

“I have Nyx. I can’t train them.”

“He said you only have to stay and overlook it. Give some pointers, not engage them in any training yourself. He’s swamped.”

Azriel reached out to Rhys and Rhys offered his approval to take Nyx with.

Gwyn frowned down at the toddler,

“Will it be safe for him to be there?”

“Feyre says Rhys has a shield around Nyx which equates to the shield around Velaris. Besides he’s with us, it’ll be fine.”

“What did Rhys say?”, asked a surprised Emerie.

Azriel smiled, “He wanted to come back and take Nyx but Feyre told him to shut up and stop being so over dramatic.”

Emerie laughed, “sounds like Feyre. Okay lets go.”

Luckily, the weather at Illyria was on the mild side today, Azriel regardless made sure Nyz was covered and warm. The toddler was taken with Gwyn, not that Azriel could blame him. Any time Gwyn tried to leave the ring, the toddlers face would scrunch up, alerting everyone that he will wail like hell if Gwyn leaves.

Azriel had Nyx buckled and wrapped against his torso, and the toddler squeeled, clapped, and offered “wooaows” at the training illyrians. The illyrians were surprised to see the high lords son but still offered smiles at the toddler, they however turned their gaze away from Azriels stare in fear. Well that was until, Nyx called out and demanded attention, “unciii asshh, kiss”.

The blades the illyrians used faltered at that and gwyn straight up laughed at Azriels red cheeks. He nonetheless couldn’t refuse the adorable violet eyes looking up at him and gave Nyx a peck on the cheek.

The request was repeated another two times, until Nyx started getting fussy. It had been over an hour and Azriel had settled Nyx down on the mat and gave him some snacks. Healthy Rhysand approved snacks. But no. The toddler wanted candy.

“Buddy I have no candy, and your dad said no”

“Unci Ashh pleeease?”

Azriel sighed and looked up at the heavens. He could never refuse this child anything. Lord help him. Where the heck would he find candy in illyria? Gwyn ruffled in her pockets and got out five different candies.

Azriel lifted an eyebrow, “really?”

Gwyn just shrugged, “what.. I get hungry after training.”

“Well aren’t you the answer to all my prayers”

Gwyn blushed at that.

Another hour passed and Nyx was fussy again, Az sat down at the bench and tried to rock Nyx to sleep but the toddler was not having it. He turned around to make sure all the trainees were far away taking their break and looked down at Nyx. He then begun singing light notes of a song Nyx always loved. As he sang, his shadows gently caressed Nyx and soon his nephew was asleep in his arms.

Azriel carefully without jolting Nyx stood up and turned towards the ring. A ring packed with trainees who were gawking at him as if he was an alien. Well they obviously heard their stern spymaster sing a lullaby. Gwyn had returned from Emeries shop with Emerie as well and looked at him funny.

“What?”

She shook her head, “nothing. You have a beautiful voice Azriel.”

Azriel nodded his thanks and felt his cheeks burn.

“I’m taking him to the cottage, are you coming with?”

“Emerie is meeting Mor here in a bit. She’ll winnow us back.” Azriel nodded at the pair and turned to take Nyx inside the cottage. As soon as he got in, Rhys and Feyre had winnowed in.

“Is he okay? Didn’t trouble you too much?”, asked Feyre as she carefully took a sleeping Nyx into her arms.

“He’s fine and he was great.”

Feyre nodded and moved towards the kitchen to warm up some milk. Rhys gave a gentle kiss on Nyx’s head before she left the room.

“Why is there a chocolate stain on my sons mouth?”, said Rhys throwing an accusing look his way.

“Rhys, I can’t say no to him okay?! Its fucking impossible! He looks up at you with his puppy dog eyes and says please and I CANT SAY NO.”

Rhys just laughed.

“No I’m serious! And he is taking my rep to shit okay, I have a reputation to uphold. Everyone was scared of me, NOW THEY LOOK AT ME LIKE IM A CUTE LITTLE BEAR WHO SINGS LULLABIES!”

At this point Rhys was doubled over, holding his hand against his stomach. “Stop! lord this is too good. My high, mighty and terrifying spymaster brought down to a little bunny you said? By a toddler.”

Azriel sniffed, crossed his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes, “I said bear not bunny.”

Azriel could hear Feyre’s laughter from the kitchen as well, “not funny!”

“Oh my gods, its hilarious! I cant even right now”, she called out from the kitchen.

#acosf #acotar #acowar #acomaf #feysand #rhysand #feyre and rhysand #feyre archeron #high lord rhysand #baby nyx #nyx acotar #azriel x gwyn #gwyn x azriel #gwynriel #shadowsinger #nyx like his father plays cupid too #nyx and rhys are matchmaker pros

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cinebration · 4 years ago

Text

The Turncloak and the Spy (Cassian Andor x Reader) [One-shot]

Premise: You demand to go on a mission that Cassian objects to.

HAPPY MAY THE FOURTH!

Warnings: blaster fire

Gif Source: guillermodltoro

“I’ll do it. I’ll go.”

The whole room turned to you. You stood your ground under the onslaught of incredulous gazes, refusing to let yourself falter.

“You can’t.” Cassian’s voice sliced through your confidence. “The risk is too high.”

“I can,” you insisted, avoiding his stare. You focused on Mon Mothma. “I know the layout better than anyone, and I know exactly how to get the files.”

“No, she can’t.”

At last, you met Cassian’s gaze. “Yes. I. Can.”

The crowd around the table shifted uneasily.

“Why do you think she can’t, Cassian?” Mothma asked.

“She’s just my contact. She hasn’t been trained. She shouldn’t even be here!”

“You recruited her, Andor,” another senator pointed out.

“Yes, to provide intelligence, not to run a mission.”

Your hands clenched into fists by your side, concealed by the table. Exhaling heavily through your nose, you returned your attention to Mon Mothma. “Regardless of whom you send on this mission, you need me.”

“She can walk us through it. We don’t—”

Mon Mothma raised a hand, silencing Cassian. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I am the most qualified.”

“Andor raises a point. You have no training,” someone said.

“I have the only training that matters. I’m an Imperial. No one will look at me twice.”

A fraught silence settled over the group. Few had forgotten that you were an Imperial turncloak, a double agent deep enough in their ranks not to garner any suspicion. No one would ever suspect that one of Thrawn’s own had switched sides.

Cassian had merely been the agent they had sent to make contact with you when you had communicated your intentions to defect. He had also been the one to convince you to remain undercover to exploit the system from within. The Alliance had so few agents inside that they had been desperate enough to warily trust you.

“If you betray us…” Senator Jebel began.

You fixed your cold stare on him. “I have had every opportunity to crush your rebellion with one word.” The crowd shifted uneasily. “Yet here you all still stand. Betrayal isn’t on the table.”

“You’re betraying the Empire.”

“Would you rather I didn’t?”

“All I’m saying is it’s easy to turn cloak again once you’ve done it once.”

“Believe what you will,” you said through gritted teeth. Addressing Mon Mothma once more, you stated crisply, “I will do this alone. This will mitigate any danger to your other agents.”

“If you’re caught, how do we know you won’t sell us out to save yourself?” Jebel cried. A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.

“You either trust me or you don’t.”

Jebel pleaded with Mothma. “She’s a creature of Thrawn.”

“And we have been creatures of a corrupt Senate,” Bail Organa countered. His voice silenced the entire room. “I trust her. We have no other choice.”

You nodded curtly and swept from the room without waiting for an official confirmation.

Cassian dogged your heels, intercepted you in an empty corner. “What are you doing?”

“My job.”

“If you get caught—”

“I won’t.”

He hesitated, dark eyes scrutinizing you. You weren’t sure when you had fallen in love with his tragic eyes, but any time you looked at them, you felt your hard exterior form another crack.

That’s why you had to do this. You had to prove to yourself that you were still the hardass, Thrawn’s perfect soldier. No one could see the cracks in your façade. Not even Cassian.

But he did. He grabbed you by the elbow as you tried to turn away, forcing you to stay. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “What is this really about?”

“If one of you walk through those doors, you will get caught, and everyone will know. You told me yourself, they’ll never expect it right under their nose from someone they trust.”

“That was a mistake.”

You blinked in surprise, your brow furrowing. “The great spy Cassian Andor, making a mistake?”

“I have made plenty,” he hissed. The sudden vehemence stilled you. “I won’t let you make this one.”

You pried his fingers from your arm. “You can’t stop me.”

His face hardened.

Straightening your uniform—the white top, black pants of the Imperial Security Bureau—you left your office and took the lift down to the security archives at the base of the building. Few people knew that the archives were housed there, the room cleverly marked as reserved for statistical analysis. Otherwise the Rebels would have tried to hit it earlier.

Striding through the double doors that blocked the entrance, you glanced at the desk where the archivist acted as sentinel.

It was empty.

Alarm coursed through you. Hurrying around the desk, you found the woman sprawled face down on the floor, a bruise forming on her temple. You checked her pulse: steady.

Cursing, you drew the blaster pistol she kept hidden beneath the edge of her desk and keyed shut the double doors behind you. You approached the inner door to the archives slowly, the blaster held down but at the ready in your hands.

A figure hunched over the console, trying to decipher the buttons on the panel. You inched forward and whistled low.

Cassian spun, pistol raised. Seeing you, he dropped the blaster, his face hard. “What are you doing?”

“My job,” you hissed. “Why are you here?”

“I’m getting the intelligence.”

You wanted to strangle him. “You are jeopardizing the whole mission!”

“I couldn’t risk it,” he muttered, turning back to the console.

“In other words, you didn’t trust me,” you snapped. Hip-checking him away from the console, you quickly keyed in the right call information. You jabbed a portable information disk into a slot on the console and began downloading.

You glanced over your shoulder, checking the doors. “You can’t just steal the actual disk itself. That would set off all kinds of alarms.”

“Why didn’t you tell us that?”

“Because it was my mission. I would get it done.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Stop it. I don’t have time for your ego.”

“My ego?”

“Did I stutter?” Your mind raced as the information downloaded, trying to solve the problem of the unconscious archivist. The blaster caught your attention.

Cassian seized your elbow, spinning you to face him. Something unfamiliar clouded his soft features. “This isn’t about my ego.”

“That’s news to me.” You tried to pull away, but his hand tightened on you.

The intensity of his gaze burned. You forced yourself to meet it defiantly, your chin jutting up.

The console beeped: Download complete.

“Take it,” you told him.

He reached over and grabbed it, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned a fraction closer, his breath ghosting over your face. “I couldn’t risk you.”

You snorted. “My cover will be fine as long as you shoot me.”

He frowned, beautiful face creasing. “What? That’s not what I was saying.”

“Take your blaster and shoot me here.” You pointed to your right shoulder, just under the collarbone. “Then run.”

“I can’t.”

You pulled the blaster from his belt and pressed it into his hands, pushing your chest against the barrel. “It’s the only way to explain the archivist. You came in here while I was completing my scheduled job, and you shot me to get the information.”

“I did this so you wouldn’t get hurt.”

“If you had trusted me—”

“I do. I do trust you.”

Frowning, you stared into his face, trying to read the expression there. Swallowing thickly, you repeated, “Shoot me. I’ll be okay.”

A conflicted look passed over his face, but he held the blaster in place as you let go.

Then his lips were on yours, hard and insistent. Startled, you found yourself reacting to him. The kiss burned, as intense as his stare. Cassian clung to you like you were the only thing in the world, danger a million miles away.

When he pulled away, you both were panting. You looked up at him in confusion as he pressed his forehead to yours, breathing your name.

Pain tore through your shoulder, the blaster sounding off. You cried out as Cassian held you tight and eased you to the floor.

“Come back to me,” he whispered, pressing a hard kiss to your forehead.

Then he was gone.

As you gasped through the pain, giving him a minute before you sounded the alarm, you at last understood now why he hadn’t wanted you to do the mission.

#Cassian Andor x Reader #Cassian Andor #Cassian Andor imagine #Diego Luna x Reader #Diego Luna #Diego Luna imagine #Rogue One #Star Wars #May the Fourth #May the 4th

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years ago

Text

Monstrous Secrets Chapter 6

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1970

Summary: The High Lord’s meeting.

It was by sheer bad luck that you were sitting next to your cousin when Beron and family strode into the gathering of High Lords. It was by even worse luck that Eris had his sleeves rolled up, inadvertently revealing the bargain marks that so perfectly matched yours. You could see realization dawn on each of your friends’ faces even as his family remained perfectly oblivious. You hoped with every fiber of your being that they didn’t think you’d struck a deal with him willy-nilly, even more so that you didn’t make a deal about Mor.

Rhys, if you can hear me, let me explain before you jump to conclusions.

Judging from the almost simultaneous crinkle of their noses, Rhysand and Feyre seemed to notice the scent of your bond with Eris.

Well, at least they won’t think something worse I guess.

Nesta just raised an eyebrow.

Doesn’t matter. We don’t get along anyway.

Mor’s eyes just flitted between you and your mate, growing wider and wider in horror.

Please don’t hate me.

Cassian and Azriel, though, were the worst with their twin expressions of disgust that they didn’t even attempt to hide.

And there goes life as I knew it . . .

Then your eyes strayed to Eris himself. The first time seeing your mate in over fifty years, and it’s like this, under these circumstances. You would not cry in front of these people, you swore to yourself. You wouldn’t. Though Cassian’s accusing scoff of, “Just tattoos, huh?” What’d you sell to him, your soul?” damn near made the tears fall despite yourself.

You studied Eris instead of acknowledging your (former?) friend, noticing the struggle etched into his face that made it look as if he wanted nothing more than to hold you.

Rhysand’s voice flitted through your mind, “So that explains why I thought I smelled you in that meeting with Keir . . .” Nothing more. Such a neutral statement that gave you no hints as to what he was thinking.

It was Feyre that reached over, across Rhys, to touch the hand you had clenching the arm of your chair. Her eyes spoke of someone who knew what it was like to have a mate that was hated and to be forced away from them. If anyone in the world would understand what you were currently suffering through, it was her. “Go to him,” she ordered softly. “We’ll sort out the rest later.”

As soon as you were on your feet, Eris was moving--family be damned, apparently--towards you. You met in that undefined no man’s land between the people of the Autumn Court and the rest of the High Lords. In an instant, you were hauled up into a desperate kiss--audience be damned this time. His hair was cut short, you noticed when you went to grab a fistful. You wondered when, exactly, he’d done it and why.

“What is the meaning of this?” Beron demanded.

When Eris pulled away slightly, you opened your eyes to see that his were still squeezed closed and his jaw was clenched.

“Well?”

Eris’s jaw twitched again, to the point you were worried about his teeth cracking under the strain. You leaned up on your toes, cupping his face in your hands, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips while sending soothing feelings across your bond.

“They seem to be mate,” Rhys announced as your returned your weight to your heels, and you could just hear the cocky smirk on his face like he’d known the entire time.

“Be that as it may,” Helion spoke up, reminding the group that there were, in fact, others present beyond the Night and Autumn Courts, “we have more important matters to discuss today.”

Eris reached up to grasp one of your hands so he could kiss your knuckles before parting.

The meeting continued relatively smoothly after that, despite how tense the situation with Tamlin was or the curious/awkward/angry glances people were shooting at you and Eris. It wasn’t until you were in the suite provided for the Night Court that anyone even brought up the topic that left such a stain on the atmosphere. When they did, you couldn’t help but think about how Eris was probably going through the same and worse at the hands of his father wherever he and his family had disappeared to. The sharp pings of anxiety and pain that were slipping through the bond only made you worry more, fingers tracing over the black bands instinctively.

“How long?” Cassian demanded as Azriel vanished with Mor, neither sparing you so much as a parting glance.

You shifted your wings nervously, and your hand fell away from the tattoo, not wanting to draw even more attention to them. “Remember that first ball I went to in Spring when you all wanted me to play spy?”

He snarled as he turned and punched a nearby column, thankfully not doing much damage to the thing.

“Now, now, don’t destroy this place,” Rhys teased though you could still hear the strain in his voice and see it in the way his mouth was pinched at the corners. To you, he asked, “Why did you never tell anyone?” Tell me? he added in your head, clearly hurt.

You scoffed, arms moving to curl around your middle. Your wings were starting to cramp with how hard you had them squeezed against your back. “Can you imagine how his father would have taken that?”

“Doesn’t explain why you never told us!” Cassian shouted.

Wow, having your closest friend turn on you hurt more than you could have imagined. Still, you snapped at him, not wanting to back down. You’d earned your place, Cauldron damn it, and it wasn’t by being cowed every time a male raised his voice. “Don’t you think I wanted to?!” Now, you were toe-to-toe with the feared general. “At first I kept quiet because I was a fucking slave and an Illyrian and he was a fucking heir to one of the courts! And he was betrothed to my friend and I didn’t even know if it would go anywhere! And then--”

“And then Mor happened,” Feyre realized, “and you couldn’t because how could you tell your family that you loved a monster?”

On some level, you knew that she could relate because Rhys had a similar reputation; she had to, in order to put it into words that succinctly. Against your better judgment, you argued, “He’s not a monster.”

Cassian scoffed.

“He’s not!” Your head whirled back to his, hand whipping out to shove him back even just a step. “So only Rhys is allowed to have that sort of façade?! Eris was trying!” You knew you were broadcasting your anger in a way that was likely overwhelming to Feyre and Rhysand, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. “You heard it from his own lips; breaking off that engagement was all he could do for her. There wasn’t time for a better plan. Not when the one he’d been working on before got blown to smithereens!”

“So you’re going to blame her?!” Cassian’s fist clenched in a way that made your stomach do the same.

“No!” you shrieked. “Cauldron, no.” The mere thought of it brought tears to your eyes yet again. “Do I wish we’d both been more open and talked about this shit before that happened? Yes. Do I wish Eris and I had come up with a plan sooner? Absolutely. Would I ever blame her for the shit she went through? Never.” You looked at the ceiling in an attempt to blink back your tears. “She was my best friend, and I have barely been able to look her in the eye for five hundred years because of something that could have been solved easily if not for the backwards beliefs of others. You cannot imagine what it’s been like all this time. You just can’t.”

Fere seemed to notice something based on the gasp that slipped past her lips and the worried look she leveled you with. “When was the last time you saw him before today?”

Your wings shifted nervously, a tell you’d been trying to rid yourself of ever since Rhysand pointed out in your youth. Again, your hand moved to touch one of the black bands; however, that was a consions, self-calming action. “We said our vows while Amarantha was stealing the High Lords’ powers,” you admitted aloud for the first time. It felt even more horrible than any time you’d thought those words to yourself. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rhysand’s fists clench. Even Cassian seemed taken aback by the admission. “It was too dangerous to meet after that.”

“So tonight . . .” Cassian’s voice was much calmer now, as if he was starting to understand your side. He was, after all, your closest friend even if he was pissed at you.

“Was the first time I’ve spoken to or even laid eyes on my husband in over fifty years.”

Feyre and Rhysand exchanged a look that told you everything you needed to know about whatever mental conversation they were having. No doubt, they were discussing how horrible that sort of separation from a mate would be, especially after the taste they’d gotten when she was recently undercover in Spring.

“Don’t mistake what I say next for forgiveness or finality,” Rhys said after they looked away from each other once more, “because there’s clearly a lot we need to discuss as a group and as a family.” The spark of anger in his eye, something so rarely directed towards you, made you shrink in on yourself a little. His voice slithered into your mind through the little passageway in the mental wall you kept open just for him, Especially the fact that you think of yourself as less than him because of what you are. “But he will be allowed here tonight without any harm coming to him. Just stay in your room to spare Mor and Az.”

“His father won’t let him out of his sight, Rhys. Not after this.” He’ll be lucky to make it out without blood being spilled.

He lifted a brow as if to say, “Oh, really?” as he strode over to open the door to dramatically reveal Eris Vanserra posed on the other side as if to knock. His violet eyes turned icy as he gave your mate a once-over. “From the sound of it, I’m about five hundred years to late, but if you ever hurt her--”

“You’ll let your dog finish what he started,” Eris interrupted. “I’m aware.” His gaze was locked onto yours as he spoke, and you could feel the shared urge to have your arms wrapped around the other. You could read the tension in his stance, the way he was holding himself revealing that he was in pain as well as worried about you. He was wearing a different shirt, this one with the sleeves fully covering his tattoos. None of this boded well for what he’d been enduring while you were fighting with your friends and family.

Rhys made a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff, oblivious to the observations you’d been making. “Traded one of my cousins for the other. Just destined to be part of the family aren’t you, Vanserra?” He waved off whatever Eris was about to argue, ignored the golden flames that shone in his eyes. “Just go. Enjoy the time you have together before the world goes to shit. Again.”

Immediately, you stepped away from Cassian, who you were still close enough to feel the heat off his body because of the arguing mere minutes (had it been only minutes?) before, so you could grasp Eris’s hand and lead him to your room.

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra imagine #eris imagine #eris x reader #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses imagine #reader insert

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ncssian · 4 years ago

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A Favor: Part One

Nessian Modern AU

Summary: Nesta Archeron isn't good with change. When her car breaks down in the middle of a storm and her sister sends one of her friends to pick her up, Nesta thinks there could be nothing worse than having to spend the night with a total stranger. Until she suddenly finds herself without an apartment. Despite only a night of knowing Nesta, Cassian is quick to offer her a room in his cabin free of charge, and Nesta, broke and without many social contacts, has no choice but to accept.

A/N: This fic is loosely inspired by @lady-therion 's fic Close Quarters. I couldn't stop thinking about Nesta and Cassian sitting in front of a fire, slowly getting to know each other, so this fic is a whole lot of that :) There's no strict plot structure to this so I'm not sure how long it's gonna be, but expect warm and fuzzy content in the beginning. Enjoy!

Masterlist

***

Cassian is in bed when he gets the text.

Feyre: hey i know it's late but i need you to do a huuuge favor for me

Feyre: i really hope you're not asleep yet

Cassian furrows his brows in concern, immediately thumbing back a text.

Cass: what's wrong?

Feyre takes a long minute to type back; wind howls and rain thrashes against his window while he waits. A long message finally appears.

Feyre: you know the shortcut through the woods off of main st? my sister's car broke down there and there's no 24/7 towing around. im all the way in velaris and won't be able to get there for another two hours, but i dont want her waiting in the woods in the middle of the night like murder bait. she's too proud to ask for help, but if you could go and pick her up that would mean a lot to me, please.

At the last sentence, Cassian immediately knows which sister Feyre is talking about. He glances out his window and curses under his breath. It's storming hell outside, and Nesta Archeron is sitting in a broken car in the middle of the woods somewhere.

He's already grabbed his keys and stuffed his feet into shoes when he realizes he never answered Feyre's text. He types out a short on my way and heads out the front door of the cabin, assaulted by rain and wind before he's even fully outside.

Cassian follows the location Feyre sends him, what should be a five minute drive taking almost fifteen in the storm.

Cassian has interacted with the oldest Archeron sister maybe twice in his three years of knowing Feyre. Once for an initial family meeting, where she gave a terse hello upon introduction to Cassian and his friends, before ignoring everybody for the rest of the dinner, and another time when he accidentally bumped into her as she was leaving Feyre's apartment. He remembers apologizing profusely, only to be given a weird look before she turned and left.

In summary, Cassian knows enough about Nesta to know that this won't be the most fun task he's ever been given. Still, he isn’t about to leave any woman rotting on the side of an empty road at this hour, in this weather.

There’s so much rain that he almost misses the car. His headlights catch on a lump of metal, and he slowly brings the truck to a stop. Throwing the gear in park, Cassian flips his hood over his head and runs out into the rain.

She’s already waiting for him when he reaches the car, standing in the freezing rain in nothing but a drenched sweater and jeans.

His first real words to Nesta Archeron come out surprisingly easy: “What the hell are you doing here?” he yells over the torrent.

“Making sure you could see me,” she shouts back. “You drive like a blind dog!”

Whatever Cassian says back gets lost in the rain, but soon he's ushering Nesta over to his truck and slamming the passenger door shut behind her. He returns to the driver's seat, Nesta audibly shuddering beside him.

He flips the air vents blowing hot air towards her. “You should’ve stayed in the car.”

Even soaked and freezing, Nesta summons up the energy to glare. “So you could run me over with your truck? No, thanks.”

“That’s an overreaction.”

Nesta doesn’t bother to reply. Silence fills the truck for a couple of minutes as Cassian tries to maneuver them out of the small backroad, carefully turning back for his cabin. There’s no way he can get Nesta back to her place tonight, and he suspects his phone notifications are already full of flash flood warnings.

Finally, he says, “I’m Cassian, by the way.”

Nesta looks at him like he’s stupid. “I know who you are.”

That takes him a little by surprise, but he only murmurs, “Okay, then.” He wonders how much Feyre told her sister about how this was going to go.

“We’re getting my car picked up first thing tomorrow,” Nesta says into the silence, “and Feyre will take me home so you don’t have to bother yourself.”

“It’s not a bother,” he responds a little too quickly. She only gives him another weird look, like she’s judging him to hell and back, and Cassian decides to quit speaking forever.

By the grace of some higher power, the drive back is faster than the drive to. The pounding of rain only gets heavier as Cassian pulls up to the house, until it becomes an unmistakable thunk. Nesta’s eyes shoot to the roof of the car. “What’s that,” she says sharply. Everything she says is sharp; he wonders if she does it consciously or not.

Another thunk hits the car, this time the windshield. Cassian sighs deeply at the ice assaulting the truck from all sides. “Hail,” he says, resigned with this whole night.

He and Nesta end up making another mad dash to the door, trying not to get hit by increasingly larger chunks of ice as they go. Nesta has a backpack that she holds close to her chest instead of using for protection from the hail, as if it’s a baby.

Once safely inside the cabin, she doesn’t let go of her grip on her bag as she looks around his home. “Nice place,” she breathes, eyeing the exposed wooden beams and towering glass windows. An iron-wrought chandelier lights up the main living area they’re in, lightning occasionally casting twisted shadows across the walls.

Cassian almost apologizes for it, before deciding that apologizing for having too nice of a house is one of those things that would earn him another weird look from Nesta. “Bathrooms are that way,” he says instead, pointing down the main hall. “I can get you some dry clothes…”

She’s already nodding sharply and heading for the bathroom, leaving Cassian to stand awkwardly in the entryway, soaked to the bone in the same sweats he was about to go to sleep in just an hour ago.

Upstairs, after changing into blissfully dry clothes, it takes Cassian a good five minutes to decide which of his shirts will work best for Nesta’s slim figure.

When he finally returns downstairs with sweats four times Nesta’s size, she snatches them out of his hands without a word and slams the bathroom door shut on his face. He stands there a moment longer, nods resolutely, and heads for the kitchen to whip up a hot beverage. Cassian has a feeling he won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

A couple of minutes later, Nesta appears in the kitchen doorway, looking hesitant and absolutely dwarfed in Cassian’s gray sweats. Somehow, she’s made the pants work, likely by rolling them up a hundred times.

Cassian’s eyes widen for a moment, realizing this is the longest look he’s gotten at Nesta since… well, since he first met her.

He remembers thinking she was stunning at that initial dinner at Feyre’s house all those years ago, but damn, he must have forgotten just how much. Because even messy and rumpled, Cassian can’t stop staring at her.

Nesta breaks the silence first. “Is that hot chocolate?” The hard edge has mostly left her voice, like the warm clothes have soothed her frayed nerves from the car ride.

“Um.” Cassian glances down at the steaming mug in his hands. “Yeah. You want some?” he offers before he can check himself.

Nesta further surprises him by nodding, tucking her sweater paws under her armpits. The position would look vulnerable and reserved on most people, but on her it’s just another fortification to her stiff demeanor. Cassian slides his mug over the marble island to her before starting on another drink for himself.

Feeling an urge to fill the silence while he works, Cassian babbles, “The guest rooms are upstairs. You can have your choice, but the master bedroom is mine, obviously.” He pours melted chocolate into a mug and grabs for cinnamon.

Nesta watches him move with her unnerving hawk eyes and nods slowly, taking careful sips from her mug. “I think I’m going to stay up and study for my midterms,” she finally responds. “You mind if I use your fancy living room?”

Cassian almost smiles at that. “The whole house is fancy,” he says. “But yeah, go for it.”

He’s surprised at how nice this feels. Not that having Feyre’s scary older sister over isn’t weird for him, but… having another presence in the cabin, especially at this late hour— it’s warm where Cassian’s nights are usually cold.

***

It’s past two in the morning when Nesta finally glances up from her laptop screen, eyes bleary and unable to take in another word of theoretical law. She’s rubbing her hands down her face when a sudden clap of thunder booms outside the cabin windows, making her nearly fall off the couch. “Christ,” she swears, unconsciously curling into herself.

“Scared of thunder?”

Nesta internalizes her surprise at the unexpected voice and glances up to see Cassian coming down the stairs, looking as awake as he did when he went to bed over an hour ago. Nesta becomes terribly aware of the state she’s in and has to fight to maintain her composure.

She peeled off Cassian’s oversized sweatpants as soon as he went upstairs, not having been able to take a step without almost tripping, and made up for the coldness of her bare legs by dragging the fur throw off the back of his leather couch and using it as a blanket.

��That's usually for decoration, you know.” Cassian gestures at the thick fur.

Embarrassment claws up her throat, for coming into this strange man’s house and taking his nice things and using them incorrectly. Her first instinct is to apologize, but the only thing she hates more than embarrassment is the word sorry. “I thought you were asleep,” she says instead.

Cassian only shakes his head as he takes a seat on the far end of the couch. “Sleep and I aren't friends tonight. I was thinking about watching a movie, but if you're still studying—”

Nesta quickly shuts her laptop, shaking her head. “I was just about to go upstairs,” she says, packing her things into her backpack. Despite the day she’s had and how heavy her eyelids are, she knows she won’t be able to sleep with the sporadic thunder still booming. She wants to ask Cassian if he has noise-canceling earplugs, but the last thing she wants is to inconvenience him further.

The fur throw slips off her as she stands, revealing her bare legs. She might be wearing the largest, least sexy sweater of all time, so she doesn’t know why she suddenly feels naked in front of Cassian. Risking a glance at the man himself, he only takes his eyes off the TV remote in his hand to say, “You can leave the pants behind if you don’t need them.”

Right. She neatly folded his sweats as soon as she took them off earlier, and now they sit patiently on the coffee table.

“It gets a little drafty at night,” Cassian adds, “but I stocked your room with blankets. It’s the second door on the left; I hope you don’t mind that I chose for you.”

Nesta distantly remembers him saying she could have her pick of bedroom. “I don’t care,” she says honestly. “But— thanks.” She clasps her bag to her chest and shuffles towards the stairs, only stopping at the foot of them when she remembers not to be rude. “Goodnight,” she calls out awkwardly, trying not to race up the stairs as she hears him say goodnight back.

Cassian’s cabin is without a doubt gorgeous, but Nesta still feels a little shock of surprise when she finds her designated room. Decked out with a four-poster bed and floor-to-ceiling windows, it’s nicer than any place Nesta’s ever stayed in before.

A bright flash of lightning fills the room, and Nesta’s shoulders immediately bunch up to her ears— the preparation doesn’t make the ensuing clap of thunder any less heart-thumping. Withholding a weary sigh, she moves to draw the thick curtains over the windows, hoping to add a barrier between herself and the storm. It’s going to be a long night.

***

The next morning, Nesta dials Feyre’s number for the third time, growing more irritated by the second. It’s eight a.m., but Feyre is supposed to be picking Nesta up before noon so she can take her car in and return home to her shitty basement apartment.

Finally, the line clicks. “Hello?” a groggy voice drawls over the phone.

“When are you coming?” Nesta demands.

“Uh, what?” Feyre still sounds like she’s waking up. Nesta could hiss.

“You promised you’d be here first thing today, Feyre. I can’t hang around at your friend’s place all day. I want to wear my own clothes and use my own toothbrush.”

“Oh, that,” Feyre says. “Listen, can you just have Cassian take you home?”

“Feyre—”

“I know you hate interacting with strangers, but he’s one of my best friends. It’s a two-hour drive up to the mountains, Nesta,” she speaks as if she’s trying to reason with a kindergartener.

Frustration boils up in Nesta, feelings that she’s in too much disbelief to put words to right now. Her jaw works, and all she ends up spitting is, “You promised.”

“You’re being dramatic. I’m going back to sleep now, call me when you get home safe.” Over the line, Nesta can hear mumbling— probably Feyre’s boyfriend waking up.

Nesta has to hang up before she says something she’ll be made to regret. Her fingers are bone-white around her phone, and she releases a restrained shriek before flinging her phone at the bed.

Still pissed but just a little mollified after the release of energy, Nesta takes a deep breath and heads downstairs to get breakfast.

Cassian is in the kitchen when she enters, sipping from a cup of coffee and watching another one brew in the coffee maker. His eyes are ringed with tired circles, proving he got about as much sleep as Nesta did the night before, but he seems content. She doesn’t miss his quick glance at her still-bare legs before his eyes flick up to her. “Good morning,” he offers with a quiet smile.

Nesta didn’t know Cassian was capable of such quietness— it’s a stark difference from how he is with Feyre and his friends, and maybe the nicest surprise she’s received since this shitty weekend began.

She cuts straight to it. “Feyre’s not coming,” she says, trying to gauge how he’ll react to this new inconvenience. “She told me to let you take me home.”

“I know,” is all Cassian says. His brow furrows when he sees her obvious disappointment. “She called me last night. Didn’t she tell you?”

Nesta’s hands curl under the long sleeves of Cassian’s sweatshirt, but she only shakes her head once. She’s distantly aware that she’s overreacting about a simple car ride, but nothing can take away her discomfort at asking favors from people she barely knows.

Not knowing how to continue the conversation, she says stiffly, “I want to wear my own clothes again.” Is that a good addition to the discussion? She genuinely can’t remember the last time she interacted with a man for non-work related purposes.

Cassian’s eyes light up and he sets down his coffee. “That reminds me, I put your clothes through the laundry this morning. They might still be warm from the dryer.”

Nesta wants to sag in relief at the first good news she’s gotten all morning. She follows Cassian’s directions to the laundry room and almost hugs her neatly folded clothes. While she changes into her clothes from the night before, she makes a list of today’s activities in her head:

1) Eat breakfast. Keep it quick and keep interactions with Cassian to a minimum, but don’t seem ungrateful.

2) Drive to her ancient rustbucket of a car. Make sure it’s okay after the hail and call the towing company.

3) Let Cassian drop her home.

4) Return to her room and not leave for a week.

Nesta sighs as her blue sweater settles around her frame. Only four tasks; it’s achievable enough.

Her first task is relatively easy. She wishes Cassian wouldn’t talk so much, because sometimes she doesn’t know what to say in return, but she also finds that she likes what she has to say. His opinion on the horror movie he watched last night doesn’t make her want to crawl out of the nearest window.

Cassian keeps breakfast short and gets them in the car by nine. It’s only after they’ve dialed a tow truck and Cassian kindly withholds judgment at Nesta’s faded blue lump of metal she calls a car that she gets the call.

It’s from her tenant, or rather, the nice elderly lady who lets Nesta live in her basement-turned-apartment.

“Lorene?” Nesta answers, confused.

“Oh, hun,” the woman answers, and from the sympathy in her voice, Nesta tenses up. “I headed downstairs this morning to check for mold and the rain...the whole basement’s flooded. There must have been a leak or something wrong with the entrance door, but I tried to grab as many of your things before I left.”

Nesta closes her eyes. Presses a forceful hand to her chest and tries to take calming breaths. “O-okay,” she says. “What does that mean, what do I do next?”

Cassian gives her a concerned look from where he leans against his truck. She ignores him.

“I’m getting the basement cleaned out and fixed as soon as I can, but the water damage looks pretty bad. The floors are probably gonna have to be replaced, and I don't know if insurance will cover this.”

She thinks of all her books and valuables in that apartment, taken out by the storm last night.

“You're going to have to find a new place to stay, hun. Most likely for a while.”

Nesta is on the verge of full-out panicking, but the last thing she needs is to have a breakdown in front of Feyre’s best friend. She clenches her fist so hard it hurts, and the bite of her nails takes away the sharp edge of her panic.

She breathes deep, but finally says, “I can do that.” She doesn't know if she can.

After a few more apologies from Lorene, Nesta finally hangs up, only to turn and brace her hands against the roof of her car.

“Everything alright?” Cassian asks slowly.

She needs a place to stay. Her mind works rapidly, going through the short, short list of people she might be able to ask for a bed to sleep on. Coming up empty, she moves on to the next option: motels.

Does she even have the money—?

“Nesta?” Cassian repeats. “What's going on?”

“I’m fine,” she says out loud, still not facing him. “I just need to break the bank a little and find a new place to stay, but it’ll be fine.”

“Find a new place to stay? What do you mean?” A light hand touches her elbow, and she whirls around in alarm. Cassian holds his hands up in placation. “Sorry, sorry,” he says.

Red-hot embarrassment creeps up Nesta’s cheeks. She’s losing it in front of this completely nice stranger—

She reins herself in, tries to remember things like common sense and social etiquette. “It’s okay,” she breathes out. “It’s really nothing. My apartment got flooded during the storm and I need to find a place to stay, and I’m upset, but I’ll get over it.” She nods resolutely, like the grown adult she is. Like she can afford to fix her car and pay for lodging at the same time.

Cassian considers her silently for a long moment, and Nesta thinks he must still be freaked out by her near-breakdown, when he finally says, “Well, you can always stay at my place.”

Her eyes might pop out of her head. “What? No. No.”

“Why not?” He turns hesitant. “Unless you have somewhere else to stay?”

Nesta’s silence is answer enough. She sees his gaze flip from questioning to determined and rushes to change his mind. “I won’t do that to you— I hate asking for favors and I hate making people go out of their way for me even more.” She sounds so forceful it comes off as harsh, which is all the better for convincing Cassian not to make her stay at his cabin.

“I have a feeling you hate a lot of things, Nesta.” He doesn’t back down. “You’re Feyre’s sister; the least I can offer you is free lodging.” After a moment, he adds, “Please.”

Nesta wants to laugh; he’s pleading with her to let her invade his home life. All because she’s Feyre’s sister. The reasoning leaves a bitter taste in her throat, but she doesn’t have the energy to argue with it. Not as the tow truck finally appears at the end of the road, driving up towards them. Cassian only looks at her. Decide now, he says silently.

Nesta exhales deeply through her nose. “Fine,” she grits. So much for getting through the day with her sanity unscathed.

***

Part Two

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla

#nessian fic #modern au #ncssianwrites #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #nesta #acotar #a favor

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julemmaes · 4 years ago

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Let Me In - October 2nd

Nesta Archeron x Cassian

Prompt sent by @noorismee (I’m sorry Tumblr kinda sucks and deleted the ask, I hope it’s just a one-time thing cause I could go insane)

“I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.”

A/N: This was so cute to write and I really really miss my friends right now, cause I’ve just started uni and I don’t understand how many things works so I haven’t seen them in a very long time and writing about them is always kinda emotional. I hope y’all enjoy!

p.s. yesterday I made a mistake, cause I put the acotar general tag list instead of the tog one, so, sorry for the ones who found themselves there eheh

Word count: 2,587

Nesta wanted to cry. She wanted to cry so bad.

She had tried to take this exam four times in the last year. Twice in the winter session and twice in the summer one. Everyone had reassured her that the fifth time would be the good one, that this time she would be able to pass it with full marks.

"I'm sure you'll be the best in the class." Elain had told her only the day before.

So when she had arrived home, today, and had opened the email with the rankings and saw that she had failed again, she had screamed in frustration.

She grunted and dropped her head on the table, banging her forehead hard enough on the wood to make a loud thump. She rubbed her hands over her eyes, yawning and jerking when a flash of lightning lit the room as if it were daytime. She put her hands over her ears, waiting for the thunder and staring at the raindrops racing on the window glass, and when the noise stopped, she started reading one of the billions of theorems she had been studying for months.

She turned the pages until she found the chapter on the Fourier series and started to rewrite everything she needed to assimilate every little connotation of the theory so that she could apply it in practice.

She had been flipping through the book for hours, writing things and doing calculations that she knew by heart now. How was it possible that she knew everything so perfectly when she was at home and when she found herself in front of the test sheet, she forgot the logic behind it?

She picked up the phone to see the time and saw that it was ten forty-nine. She would not go to sleep until she had solved all the problems in the book.

A message appeared on the screen just as she was about to turn it off and she raised an eyebrow seeing who the sender was.

She had immediately informed him when she knew that she had failed the exam again, but then she hadn't waited for an answer and had put her phone aside.

Scrolling through the dozens of notifications - most of them from her best friend - she saw messages from her classmates asking her if she had passed.

When she got to the bottom of the list, she grimaced.

‘Did you eat?’

And a few minutes later, ‘Nesta?’

‘If you don't answer me within an hour and a half, I'm coming to your place.’

And then, exactly ninety minutes later, he had sent another message saying: ‘You asked for it. I'll be at your's in twenty minutes, half an hour max.’ followed by a strangely threatening text, ‘I'm pissed.’

Nesta grinned, muttering to herself, "Joke's on you, I won't open the door." and returned without too much thought to her math book.

Five minutes passed before she heard someone aggressively knocking on the door. She sighed, lifting her eyes from the numbers and pondering whether it was better to let him in or let him die outside in the cold and frost. She was about to get up, tell him that he should leave, when Cassian knocked harder on the door. She frowned.

"Arche! Open the fucking door, I'm freezing out here!" shouted the boy. Nesta laughed, looking at him through the peephole and leaning her hip against the wall.

She spoke loudly enough so that Cassian could hear her through the door, "And don't you think you should have asked my permission before coming here and busting my balls?"

She heard him snort and could imagine him closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, "Nesta, please," he seemed exasperated, "open this door and let me feed you."

Nesta raised an eyebrow, chuckling, "Feed me? What am I? A dog?"

"No, you idiot." he laughed on the other side, then, in a more serious tone he asked, "Have you eaten something?"

Nesta hesitated, "Sure."

"I can hear the bullshit from here." a little pause, "Come on, open up."

She opened the door slightly, watching him step forward and Nesta closed the door ajar, shaking her head, "Cassian I have to study." if she had let him in she wouldn't have been able to do anything.

His hair was damp and his usually dark-grey jacket was now black.

"Cassian," he repeated in a mocking tone and making a disgusted face, "what? Are you mad?"

She shook her head puffing, tapping her foot on the ground repeatedly. He followed the movement with his eyes. Looking back at her face, he said, "Even if you were, you wouldn't have the right to. I'm not the one who ignored his best friend all day." he put one hand on the door and pushed it, holding the pizza with the other.

When Nesta struggled to keep it closed again, Cassian laughed. They both knew very well that if he wanted to force his way into her apartment, he would have no problem doing so.

He took one look at her and made what she called whipped-dog-eyes, "I didn't get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you're sad, so let me in." She noticed only in that moment the bag hanging from his fingers. She leaned forward to help him hold it. She hated plastic bags so much, they always stretched out to cut off her hands when she had to carry them around.

Then she metabolized his words and opened her eyes wide, "Did you come on foot?"

She opened the door, stepped aside and let him in. Cassian trotted into the apartment, shaking his jacket off and passing the pizza to her, who moved so as not to get wet, "Are you crazy? It's four degrees outside and it's pouring."

He looked so pleased to finally be inside the house that he didn't seem to hear her.

Nesta placed the food and beer on the kitchen table, careful not to wet the books. She hurried to put everything aside and when Cassian came in and saw what she was doing she tightened her jaw. Nesta noticed.

"What?" she asked abruptly, "Everyone has their problems. You are a fool for leaving the house at ten o'clock without an umbrella and walking for half an hour in the middle of a storm and I am trying to make sure I have a future by studying, and if I have to do it in the evening, that's not going to stop me".

Cassian shrugged, "Az stole my umbrella and my mom needed the car."

A twinge of pain tightened her heart.

She shook her head, "Wait here, I'll go get you a dry sweatshirt, I should have one of yours."

He nodded and Nesta saw him as he started cutting the pizza, taking what necessary and setting the table. When he came back he was shirtless and was rattling his hair, squeezing it into the sink.

She froze on the kitchen door, admiring how the muscles on his back tensed with every slightest movement. It was not the first time she saw him without clothes, there had been many occasions, but it was rare for him to undress in front of her in such intimate surroundings. She cleared her voice, drawing Cassian's attention.

He turned towards her, smiling at her and Nesta thought she was going to die. It wasn't the usual cocky smile he usually gave everyone, it was sweet and sincere. She handed him the sweatshirt without saying anything and sat down.

The first bite of pizza - although it was gummy and cold - was an explosion of happiness in her stomach. She closed his eyes, moaning and took another bite out of the slice. Cassian sniggered, watching her as she finished her first slice.

"Geez, it's so good," said Nesta, with her mouth full of food. Cassian had an amused expression on his face. He nodded his head to the cartoon, "Have some more."

Nesta didn't hesitate and threw herself on the pizza, filling her plate. They ate in silence, enjoying each other's company. She thanked him only when she had cleaned the plate with the last crumb. He had belittled the whole thing by waving his hand mid-air, just saying that she didn't need to thank him, that it was his job to make sure she survived through this exam session.

When Cassian leaned forward on the table to grab a bottle of beer, Nesta stood up, grabbed the bottle opener and handed it to him. He was about to open the second one, when Nesta stopped him, "I'm not going to drink Cass, as soon as you leave I'll go back to studying and you know what alcohol does to me."

Cassian laughed and opened it anyway, pushing it towards her, "Come on Arche," she did not move and looked him in the eyes more serious than ever, "if you put it like that," he took back the beer and the smile died on his lips. He moved his gaze toward the window, "But I'm not leaving".

She moaned, "What the fuck, Cass." she put her hand in her hair, raising one leg and putting her foot on the chair, leaning her chin against her knee.

"I'm not leaving and I don't want to hear your lame excuses about why I can't stay" he looked at her and the worry in his features made Nesta stand at attention.

His tone became more gentle, "What happened today?"

She wiggled her head for the millionth time, frowning, "What do you mean? Nothing happened," and before he could answer her, she added, "except that I failed the mathematical analysis exam for the fifth time."

"Nes..." he passed his hand through his hair, unwinding it and dropping little water left and right. His eyes never left her face, looking for any sign that would give away her apparent calm.

"Cass." she repeated with the same tone. How could he be so good at reading through the lines? Lines that she hadn't even written, considering how good she had been at ignoring him all day long. She figured, that was also a clear sign that something was wrong.

Not even Tomas, her boyfriend, could understand that something was wrong and she had explicitly texted him "I don't feel very well, I'd rather be alone for today" to which he replied with a simple "Ok, talk to you tomorrow".

Maybe he didn't even care what was bothering his girlfriend so much. Surely he would have been angry, though, when he found out that Cassian had spent the night on her couch.

Cassian sighed, also putting down his beer, "You know, you need to talk about anything, I'm always here."

Nesta felt a lump forming in her throat, so she nodded weakly, not trusting her voice.

He looked into her eyes for a few more seconds and when she could no longer hold his gaze, she turned to her books, staring at the sheets of paper that came out of the pages.

"So," said Cassian, changing the subject for her sake, "what don't you understand about mathematical analysis?

She turned to him in surprise, "These aren't things you would understand."

She wasn't trying to insult him or make him feel less intelligent than she were, but the subjects that were studied in the third year of a math degree course required a broad knowledge of previous subjects. Subjects that Cassian would never have even approached while studying foreign languages and literatures.

"Oh, I know, I don't have a sufficiently developed brain for those things, but you need to be distracted and since you want to study so much, maybe you could repeat it to me." he smiled at her, getting up and standing in front of her, pointing to the living room with a nod of his chin, "Couch?

Nesta stared at him, wondering how it was possible that Cassian was her friend. She nodded, following him into the living room and sitting in front of him, her legs bent under her.

The second she opened the book, the black letters on the white pages seemed to cross over. They seemed to dance, not allowing her to read. She would have been able to explain it without reading, but fatigue was taking over. She closed the book, staring at the cover.

"Everything okay?" he asked with a hint of concern in his tone.

Nesta closed her eyes, carrying a hand over her eyes. Her breath started to tremble. She did not want to cry.

She felt Cassian move on the couch and then he hugged her, "Sweetheart?" he stroked her hair, while Nesta took the book out from among them and dropped it on the floor. She clutched to his chest and took a deep breath. The warmth of him seemed to relax her little or nothing and Nesta only wanted to stop feeling this icy cold that seemed to have been poured into her bones.

"I miss my mom," she whispered.

She heard Cassian swallowing, "I figured," he said in an equally silent tone, holding her tighter, "It's normal Arche, her anniversary is approaching."

Right. The anniversary of Amanda Archeron's death would be in a couple of weeks.

Nesta was convinced that Tomas couldn't even remember the month of her mother's death.

"She was so good. She graduated on time. She did everything perfectly. And I'm here and I can't pass this stupid exam," she said against his chest. Her mother went to the same university, she attended classes in the same halls. She had graduated with the highest grades.

Cassian moved slightly, placing his hand on one of her cheeks, caressing her just under the eye. He had a determined look in his eyes and when he spoke, Nesta knew she wouldn't be able to talk back.

"You managed to get this far for a reason. You are not stupid and the test you are trying to take is not easy. Your mother was a genius, it's true, and I understand that you think you are expected to do the same, but no one is going to use such a thing against you," he reassured her. "We are all on your side. The only one who doesn't believe in you, it seems, is also the only one who should." he smiled sweetly at her.

Nesta moved, fleeing that touch so familiar, so comforting.

"I'm sorry." she murmured.

Cassian was still hugging her, "For what?"

"For making you worry, I should have called you and told you right away. You wouldn't have had to come all the way here." she looked him in the face and found an amused expression there.

"I would have come anyway, Nes. Only sooner."

She smiled at him and hugged him again.

They watched an action movie until two in the morning, hugging on her couch. They didn't go to class the next day, staying locked in the house, eating all the junk they had managed to buy on their little trip to the mini market down the street.

Cassian had also managed to convince her not to touch the books for the day and it had taken a while for her to accept.

She just needed her person.

Looking to her right, she stretched her feet over his lap and he smiled at her.

She was kinda screwed.

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charincharge · 4 years ago

Note

Heyya!! The post acofas nessian fic was so lovely!!! If you don't mind i have a nessian prompt-"Are you warm enough?"😚

Okay, your wish is my command. Here’s a part 2 to that post-ACOFAS Nessian prompt from the other week. Hope you enjoy!

A cold wind stung Nesta’s face, rousing her from her deep slumber. Upon arriving home, she’d put away a bottle (or two) of wine, and passed out, but she’d thought she’d left the furnace on. The cold chill that ran up her spine led her to believe otherwise.

She wrapped her thin robe around her bare shoulders and went to turn up the heat, but upon opening her bedroom door was met with a blast of frost. She gasped, horrified at the scene in front of her. Her beautiful, perfect little cottage was destroyed. Somehow in the night, a tree had fallen onto her roof, collapsing part of it. A branch penetrated the window, leaving half her house open to the frigid winter air. Stupid mountains. Stupid storms.

Nesta shuddered and wondered how the hell she was going to get out of her house. As it was, it was destroyed with shards of glass and splinters and pine needles and dirt. She supposed she would have to be confined to her bedroom, which had somehow managed to escape damage, despite the state of the rest of the house. But all she wanted was her coffee. But, she was afraid to traverse the glass covered floors to attempt to make it to the kitchen.

Fuck it. She was confident she could make her way for one cup of her favorite caffeinated beverage. All the glass was by the far window. But upon taking one step onto the floor, she cried out in pain, as a stray shard sliced through the ball of her foot.

Blood dribbled onto the dark wooden floors as she hobbled back to her room. She hissed as she sat on her bed and raised her foot to rest over her good leg. Using the point of a needle, she was able to prod the tiny piece from her callused foot. Luckily, it wasn’t that deep of a cut and would heal quickly.

Before she had time to get dressed, she heard a loud bellow from her doorway. She felt his panic tug at her chest. She hated that she could feel how worried he was about her. She shouldn’t matter this much to anyone.

“Nesta?” Cassian called out. “Nesta, are you hurt?”

Nesta sighed as she heard his boots crunching over glass, approaching her room. He swung the door open, his eyes wild with fear, scanning her body for injury. She wrapped her robe tighter around her shoulders. She didn’t want him to see her this exposed. Morning Nesta was private. Not meant for public consumption.

“I thought I smelled blood,” he admitted, his eyes narrowing as they swept over her form again, and Nesta sighed and held her foot out.

“Just a nick. I’m fine.”

His relief was palpable as the tension unfurled in his chest, and she watched his shoulders relax.

“I’m fine,” she said again, and he averted his eyes, training them on the floor in front of her. “I was just about to get ready for training.”

“The snow hasn’t settled enough to train,” Cassian replied stiffly.

A blanket of silence hovered over them. Cassian refused to move, and Nesta refused to give him the satisfaction of continuing their conversation. If training wasn’t going to happen today, then he could just leave her alone. He seemed to sense her inner monologue – something he did all too frequently, which drove her to insanity. She could never tell what he was thinking, despite being acutely aware of what he was feeling. His brain was a mystery to her.

“The storm has let up for a few hours, but it’s supposed to carry on through the week.” He paused. “Maybe Emerie would let you stay with her…”

“I’m not going to impose on her,” Nesta snapped, and Cassian rolled his eyes at her. Nesta pretended not to notice.

“Well, you can’t stay here, sweetheart. You’ll freeze to death.”

She began to say that maybe she’d be fine with that, when Cassian cut her off.

“You’ll stay with me. You’re not imposing. And you’ll have your own room.” He looked around her sparsely decorated room. “Gather what you need for the night.”

Nesta knew better than to fight with him on this particular topic. The matter of her safety. He didn’t quite care about her comfort, but she knew the stubborn ass would come back in the middle of the storm to grab her things if she didn’t do it herself.

“Turn around,” she barked, venom thick on her tongue. She didn’t want him perusing her room as she clothed herself. She dropped the thin robe to the ground and pulled on a warm sweater and leggings and socks. She dug around in her drawers and stuffed a few things into a small bag.

A small smile curled on his lips as she shoved her feet into the new boots he’d gotten her. She refused to acknowledge it. Though she was grateful for them. Especially with the amount of snow that had accumulated overnight.

Without a word, he held out his hands for her to jump into, but Nesta ignored them.

“I can walk myself, you brute,” she snipped, and she pretended not to hear his exasperated sigh.

As Nesta’s boots crunched over a pile of broken glass, Cassian lifted her up from behind, scooping up her legs and cradling her against his chest.

“Put me down, asshole!” she seethed, but it was fruitless. Cassian’s wings flared, and they took off into the sky. She buried her face against his leathers, eyes closed tightly, not wanting to look. She still loathed flying.

Nesta didn’t know how long they’d been in the air when they began their descent. But it felt like forever. Her legs were shaky as they finally hit the ground.

She stood and took in the cabin in front of her. She realized she’d never actually seen where Cassian lived in the mountains. She’d actively refused to be in his space, but it looked like she had no other choice right now.

He led her in slowly, as if he was frightened of scaring her off. She stepped forward surely and held in her gasp at the inside of the house. It was… beautiful. Everything was rustic and homey, but somehow completely put together. She was shocked at the layered plush rugs and comfortable couches in the main room, dotted with throw pillows and blankets. What grown man had throw pillows? The space felt nothing like Cassian. But then again, how much did she really know about the Commander?

“Mor helped decorate,” Cassian said as way of explanation, and Nesta hummed lightly, taking in the panels of rich wood and art covered walls. It was so different from her sparse cabin. This felt grand in comparison. She hated everything about it.

Upstairs, he showed her both guest rooms, offering her choice of either one.

“My room is across the hall,” he said, clearly uncomfortable. “And the bathroom is at the end of the hall.”

He paused as he let Nesta choose her room. She chose the one closest to the stairs – easier to escape.

“Make yourself comfortable. There’s food in the fridge if you get hungry.” He paused. “I’ll be back tonight.” He walked down the stairs at a rapid pace, seeming eager to get somewhere. But with their training canceled, Nesta had no idea where he was off to. Curiosity got the better of her.

“Where are you going?”

He quirked his eyebrow and pulled his long hair up into a bun. “Your house isn’t going to fix itself, sweetheart.”

Before she could protest, he was out the door, leaving her alone.

Nesta was used to being solitary, but there was something strange about being in Cassian’s space alone. Every place she looked felt like she was somehow snooping into his business. She didn’t want to know about his business.

Instead, she wandered into the kitchen and started boiling water for coffee. There was no risk of finding something personal in the kitchen. And thanks to his giant tub of coffee grounds, she’d be caffeinated soon enough. Which was good because her head was starting to throb.

As the coffee brewed, she opened the refrigerator. Hoping he had something she could cobble together for breakfast that wasn’t salted or stewed meats. She was impressed with how well-stocked the refrigerator was. She pulled open a drawer and gasped at the piles of vegetables. Carrots and turnips and beets and spinach and cucumbers.

She chopped the vegetables up quickly and mixed them in with some eggs she found. How the hell did Cassian have eggs? And vegetables?

With her steaming cup of coffee and vegetable omelet, she settled into the couch and pulled out a well-worn book.

When Cassian returned, she was still in the same spot on the couch, and nearly finished with her reading, her stomach starting to grumble with hunger again. She looked up as the door swung open. Snowflakes dotted the top of his head, and she watched as he shook them out like a dog. He smelled of sweat and dirt, so Nesta barely acknowledged him when he let her know he’d be going upstairs to bathe.

It took her a full minute to realize that she would be able to hear him. Undressing. And washing himself. Upstairs.

She tried to ignore the sounds of unclacing leathers and splashing water, attempting to focus on the book in front of her. But the scene was a passionate night between a lady in waiting and the king’s most trusted advisor – an illicit affair with lots of mentions of strong muscles and flowing hair and fancy dresses being ripped to shreds. Nesta crossed her legs and exhaled slowly. It seemed her patience was being tried tonight. She shut the book and pressed her fingers against her temples, willing the ache that had started there to subside.

The ache traveled from her head, down her spine, pooling in her stomach. She ignored the gentle tug that told her to go upstairs, to join Cassian in the shower. Instead, she closed her book and breathed slowly, willing the amorous feelings to subside. She was in control. She didn’t have to listen to that gods forsaken thing.

As her feelings steadied, a strong wind whirled outside the house, and the lights flickered on and off. Nesta held her breath, waiting for the flickering to end, when the house was plunged into complete darkness.

“Shit!” she heard Cassian mumble upstairs. Nesta sat, frozen on the couch, as the flames of the furnace disappeared, leaving only a scattering of quickly cooling embers.

Cassian bounded down the stairs, wearing only a loose pair of pants, grumbling with annoyance as he pulled out a pack of matches and lit a long candle by the doorway. In the flickering glow of the candle, Nesta could see his long, wet hair dripping onto his bare shoulders and down his chest, and she shivered.

He must have heard it because his eyes flashed to her with concern. He tossed her a thick blanket from the other end of the couch, and she stared at the woolen fabric.

“Heat’s gonna be gone within an hour. You’re going to want that.”

He pulled a sweater over his head, punctuating his sentence – someone like Cassian ran extremely warm all the time, so if he was wearing a thick sweater it was bound to get cold fast, but Nesta felt like being stubborn. She refused to wrap the blanket around her shoulders, keeping it next to her. How dare he presume to know what she needed?

Cassian sighed as he lit another candle. And another, ignoring her until the room was consumed with the soft yellow of low flames. Nesta hated that she could sense his frustration as he made his way into the kitchen. It was tugging at her, like usual. Only stronger. Incessant and annoying, chafing at her until she threatened to explode.

“What?” she snapped.

Cassian opened the refrigerator and began pulling things out. “What’s what, sweetheart?” His voice was low and calm, but the feeling in her stomach was anything but. She knew he was pissed. If only he would say why.

Wind howled outside, sending a chill through the cabin. Nesta shivered again, and Cassian growled softly. “Put on the damn blanket, Nes.”

Ah. The source of his annoyance. Worry. Nesta hated it.

She didn’t want to, but he was right about the heat. It was quickly disappearing from the cabin, and she had very little meat on her bones to keep her warm. And at this point, she’d do most anything to have that annoying tug disappear. She reluctantly unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around her slight shoulders. She inhaled deeply, the smell of Cassian surrounding her tenfold. Smoke and cedar and burnt sugar. The tug in her stomach subsided, turning to a warm cocoon of relief.

Cassian dropped a tray in front of her, covered with bread, butter, cheese, sliced vegetables and a large bottle of liquor.

Cassian picked up the bottle, took a long swig and placed it back on the table. “Nature’s blanket.”

Nesta blinked and stared at the bottle. It was one she was intimately familiar with. One that had led to many poor decisions and fae males climbing into her bed for a quick release. Cassian’s nose flared as she leaned toward him, the memory of her arousal on the tip of her tongue.

“Think you can get me drunk enough to sleep with you? You could be the next on a very long list,” she cooed and watched Cassian’s face contort into one of fury. He refused to reply to her, his eyes going cold, shutting down.

He took a large step away from her and sat on the furthest chair from her, letting Nesta have the couch to herself. She smiled too sweetly in his direction, and she could hear him suppress another growl from his chest.

He ripped a piece of bread from the loaf and slathered it with butter and put a piece of cheese on top before taking a large, angry bite.

“Eat,” he said, and though his words were a harsh command, his tone was a gentle suggestion.

He pushed the bread towards her, but she went for the liquor instead. She knocked a large sip back, and she delighted in the way it burned down her throat and settled warmly in her stomach.

“If this storm holds you might be stuck here for a few nights,” Cassian said quietly, and Nesta stared at him, mid-bite.

“No,” she replied. She struggled to keep her voice calm.

“I cleaned up the glass, but the hole in the roof is going to be more than a day’s work.” He ran his hand through his long strands, and Nesta cringed away, not wanting to see the protectiveness in his gaze. “I secured a tarp, so it shouldn’t get worse, but…”

“But what?” Nesta glared. “Do you want a thank you? Thank you.”

She could feel Cassian’s ire rising in him, filling him with each of her rolled eyes and shrugs and snappy replies. He was almost reaching a breaking point with her. She was familiar with breaking.

“But,” he began calmly. “I just want you to be prepared for the possibility that you might be here for a bit.”

A cold rage burned through Nesta at the idea of being trapped in this cabin. She could not stay here, in Cassian’s space, indefinitely. It was not an option. Unable to look at him, she brought her eyes to the ceiling to avoid his expression. As if spurred by her gaze, the flames on the candles surrounding them burned taller, the flames widening and towering until they practically licked the ceiling. The orange tips were consumed by the blue-grey center, becoming impossibly hot.

“Nesta!” a voice shouted, but it seemed far away. All she could hear was the crackling of fire. Flames swirling around her in a vortex of blue-grey heat.

Cassian touched her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. She hated the concern she saw there. Worry rolled off him in waves, tugging at her. As she exhaled nervously, the flames died down, returning to their former yellow-orange.

“Well, that was one way to keep the heat going,” Cassian chuckled, still kneeling between her legs. His laughter was relaxed but fear still lurked in his penetrating gaze. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, his thumbs swiping gently across her cheek.

Nesta stiffened and removed his hand. “Yes.”

Cassian cleared his throat and pushed himself up to standing. He hovered over Nesta for a beat, his eyes darting around the room, deciding where to sit. He ultimately decided to stick with his original seat, the one furthest from her.

Nesta wrapped the blanket around her shoulders tighter, a sudden chill passing through her at the lack of Cassian’s body and the receding flames.

“Warm enough?” he asked, and Nesta nodded sharply.

Cassian sighed and propped his feet up on the low ottoman in front of him. “We’re still not going to talk about it, huh?”

And Nesta shook her head again. Her powers were becoming more uncontrollable, especially in his presence. It terrified them both. She could feel it, their bond tightening and pulling frantically every time her powers flared. But, fear she could handle. Obligatory love she could not.

Cassian stood suddenly. “Maybe tomorrow, then.”

His nerves were fraying just as much as hers. She knew he would do anything to protect her, but as long as she rejected him, there was only so long he could stand to be with her. Usually Nesta was the one to flee the premises, but not tonight, it seemed.

He walked up the stairs, leaving her alone without another word. Nesta took another long sip of the whiskey and let it burn.

~*~*~*~

tag list:

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#nessian #nesta x cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #canon divergent #prompts #charincharge writes

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thewayshedreamed · 4 years ago

Text

This Time— Part 5

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

This chapter was a tough one for me to write. I got stuck a few times with the order of things (for this chapter and the following ones). Once I decided on that, the angst in this one was a little emotional for me to write, then edit. So, proceed with caution. That’s the official angst warning!

On a more positive note, this is a definitive turning point toward resolution, so it WILL get better! Thanks again for all of you who have offered your feedback and followed the story. Knowing y’all are enjoying this little au with me makes it all the more fun to write 😊

Trigger warning for short depiction of grief.

——————————————————————————

Birthday breakfast was really more of a birthday lunch the day after celebrating at Rita’s. Elain was sitting at the small island of Nesta’s kitchen, nursing a Gatorade and holding her head in her hands. Feyre was next to her scrolling through her phone. She was doing intel on their group’s collective social media updates, and so far, there were no embarrassing posts to deal with.

Nesta was mixing pancake batter, periodically folding in chocolate chips. Chocolate chip pancakes were reserved for Archeron birthdays or holidays, and they looked forward to sharing them when the occasions presented themselves. She poured some of the batter into her skillet, absently watching for bubbles as her indicator they were ready to flip. After making the initial flip, she walked to her refrigerator and produced a bottle of champagne with orange juice.

“Who wants to open the champagne for birthday mimosas?” She set both bottles on the island, with glasses, before turning her attention back to the pancakes. Elain’s only response was a long groan. Feyre giggled, pulled the champagne toward her, and started untwisting the cage over the cork.

“What’s the expression, El? Hair of the dog? It may make you feel better.” She stood away from the island to pop the cork. The last things they needed were physical injuries.

“I guess it can’t make me feel any worse, right?” She picked her head up from her hands. “I’m going to go grab my phone,” she said, with a cringe. She padded away to Nesta’s room, returning seconds later. She was scrolling through her phone as she walked and stopped short once she met the threshold of the kitchen, a horrified expression on her face.

”Why the fuck would I have deleted all of my texts last night?!” Her voice was more shrill than normal, and her sisters’ eyes grew at her use of “fuck” during pancake breakfast.

It was Feyre who dared answer her. “Umm... I have no idea. Maybe it was an accident?”

”That’s a pretty impressive accident.” Nesta realized her comment wasn’t helping as her sisters glared in her direction.

Elain continued. “I’ll tell you why. Because drunk me tried to hide something from sober me.” She paused for a second, blushing. “My evidence, in case you were wondering, is a text from Azriel that says: ‘*laugh emoji* Not cool. You had me worried there for a minute, Ellie. Goodnight. Hope you enjoyed your birthday.’” She glanced up at them in horror.

Nesta gave her a small smile. “Ellie, I’m sure it’s nothing. Even drunk you couldn’t have said anything too terrible. Maybe just talk to Az? It would be better than wondering.”

Elain sat down, her anxiety palpable in the small kitchen. She was quiet save for the nod she’d given her sister in acknowledgment of her advice. Nesta assumed maybe she could use a little more encouragement since she didn’t look wholly convinced.

“I really think it’ll be okay. Az is reasonable and has probably said his own fair share of drunken things he would care to take back.” She offered a short chuckle before sipping her mimosa. “You could call him, maybe, or—“

”Nes, are you really preaching to me about communication right now?”

Nesta blinked, taken aback by the irritation in Elain’s voice. “I wasn’t trying to preach, El. I just meant you didn’t have to worry and could trust Az to give you a chance to—“

”The same way you gave Cassian a chance to fix whatever the hell you’re holding against him? Why should Az be any more gracious than you’ve been?” Elain snapped. Her shoulders rounded a little at her own words, and Feyre’s eyes grew to the size of two steel blue saucers.

“Cauldron, Elain,” she said, looking from one sister to the other. Her back was straight, anticipating Nesta’s best weapons: her words.

Nesta took several seconds to reflect on their current situation. It was such an unexpected shift, where Elain was the one throwing insults, and Feyre, of all people, was defensive of Nesta. She wasn’t used to this type of interaction with Elain, and her words stung more than she was willing to admit. She finished her mimosa in one swift gulp and placed her dishes in the sink.

“Lucky for you, Azriel is nowhere near as disappointing, or shitty, as I am. I’m going to shower while you two finish breakfast. I’ll bring you home when you finish.” Her tone was neutral, dry even. By all measures, it was on the milder side for Nesta. She was halfway to the bathroom when she heard Elain’s wavering voice.

“Nes, wait. I’m sorry I didn’t mean—“

“Don’t ever apologize for saying what you mean, Elain,” she said, coldly, before walking the rest of her way. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough, wanting to leave the gaping wound that Elain had ripped open far behind her.

——————————————————————————

The following week went by fairly quickly. Elain and Nesta had made up within the day, Elain insisting that she had spoken from her own nerves rather than how she truly felt. She asked if Nesta wanted to talk about what happened with Cassian, but she declined, saying it wasn’t a big deal. She tasted the lie the second it left her mouth, but she shoved that down with everything else.

Her attention to the day of the week was higher than usual in anticipation of Wednesday. She was oddly preoccupied with a day that truly meant nothing to her, but it had haunted her since she overheard Cassian’s conversation with Alis. When the day finally arrived, she found herself ruminating over their conversation, letting her imagination run wild with the possibilities of how they were spending their time.

She told herself that she didn’t care beyond the fact that he would usually tell her all about these sorts of things. Gods, it bothered her to no end that she wasn’t his person anymore.

That Thursday, she found herself getting ready for dinner with Tomas. He had called her that Monday to see if she’d like to go out, and she didn’t have a reason not to. She may have even wanted to go. The downside, when the day arrived, was that it happened to be a particularly brutal work day. She was at home touching up and mentally preparing herself for a couple of hours of conversation. She would usually call Cassian for pep talks on days like this, but their non-friendship was a dealbreaker in that department. Not to mention, he likely wouldn’t have cared to give her a pep talk for this particular night. Gods, it bothered her to no end that he wasn’t her person anymore, either.

Dinner had been fine enough. Tomas looked handsome and seemed completely engaged with her the entire night. He was interested in her work, how her life had been since he’d last seen her, and her friends. He made brief mention of her mother and how he had been really sad to hear that she passed a few years ago. His condolences were sincere, but Nesta found herself oddly defensive at his mention of her. He hadn’t known her well, since their relationship hadn’t lasted long, and she felt like he couldn’t possibly imagine the void she left in their lives.

She resisted any response beyond a “thank you”, knowing that her reaction was likely due to her death anniversary coming up within the week. The rest of the night had gone well. The food was good, the conversation was fine, Tomas was fine. They had a fine time together. Everything was just fine.

Which is why, she assumed, that Tomas had tried to kiss her at the end of the night. He had driven her home, walked her to the door, and hugged her goodbye. As he pulled away, his cheek lingered next to hers, face turning toward her in slow motion. She cleared her throat abruptly and reached into her bag for her key.

“Well, thanks for tonight! I had a nice time.” She had the key in the lock, and she was already mentally selecting her sweatpants for the evening.

“Wait.” Thomas grabbed her elbow, turning her around. “Why are you being so weird? I thought we had a good time?”

”We did. I just said I had a nice time.”

”You seem to be rushing out pretty fast for a person having fun.” He paused for a few seconds to allow her to insist that she was having fun, or to invite him inside, she thought. She did neither.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Is it Cassian?”

She knew she was balking at him, but she didn’t have it in her to control it.

“Are you kidding me? Just because I’m ending the night without kissing you or asking you to come inside and fuck me, there has to be a man responsible? Could it be because this night has taken us as far as it was ever going to?” She rolled her eyes, turned the key, and walked inside. “Goodnight, Tomas,” she said, as she shut the door in his face.

She kicked her shoes off in her entryway and tossed her purse onto the small table next to her door. She removed her dress over her head as she walked purposefully to her bedroom and ripped her sweatpants out of the too-full drawer. She pulled on an extra large t-shirt and went to the kitchen to pour herself some red wine. She settled onto her couch, put on some mindless television, and tried to relax.

She reflected over the night’s events. She was honest when she told Tomas that they had a fine time. She had enjoyed herself tonight, and she started to feel a twinge of guilt for snapping at him in her doorway. He hadn’t done anything wrong before asking that question, and if she was honest with herself, she knew why it bothered her so much. It’s not that he wasn’t handsome, that he was unkind, or that he was disrespectful. It wasn’t even that he had misjudged and asked the wrong question. The truth hammered through her brain like an ambush, and she was utterly incapable of stopping it.

He’s not Cassian.

——————————————————————————

Nesta watched several episodes of a home renovation show as she worked through her bottle of wine. She decided that it was the perfect type of show to watch on nights like tonight, where she was knee-deep in her thoughts. Her earlier revelation had sunken its claws into her brain, and she was having trouble thinking of anything else. She wasn’t sure at what point she had stopped fighting it— either glass 2 or glass 3. She finally allowed herself to take a critical look at all these pent up emotions, and noteworthy memories of Cassian started to play through her mind like a montage.

She is sitting in the passenger seat of an older, black pick-up truck. Cassian is driving, and they have the windows down to feel the cool fall breeze. They’re going for a leisurely drive because he got his license just yesterday, and he loves the freedom it’s given him. He doesn’t have to be a slave to his home life or his abusive father anymore. He can just drive. She makes a joke, and he’s laughing now. His mid-length waves are dancing around his face, and he turns to look at her for mere seconds before looking back at the road.

She sipped her wine thoughtfully, noting the memory as the first time he ever took her breath with how beautiful his joy could be. She remembered how her chest had burst with pride at being able to make him laugh and smile like that, despite his pain. She noted now what she was too scared to admit then: there was little she wouldn’t do to protect his happiness.

It’s junior prom, and she’s posted against the wall with a bottle of water. Her date is a total jerk, and she’s hoping that maybe he’ll just leave. His departure would be better than pretending to enjoy herself anymore. She sees Cassian approaching her from her left. He looks so much more mature in his tux, half of his waves tied back in a knot at the back of his head.

“Hey, Archie. Where’s your date?”

She chuckles softly. “I don’t know. But I think I like it that way. He’s kind of the worst.”

Cassian frowns. “Well, he’s an idiot, then. Dance with me?” He extends his hand to her, palm up, and offers her a half-smile. He looks almost nervous, and her heart swells with affection for him.

“Always. You’re my favorite person here.”

She wiped the tears from her face, not sure of when she started crying. The feeling now so vivid; her favorite person. The truth of that statement refused to be downplayed. She shook her head, realizing it to be as accurate as ever.

It’s her sophomore year of college, and her friends are at a local bar celebrating the end of finals. She hasn’t been able to see them nearly as often this semester, and she’s enjoying their time together. At a certain point, a guy she doesn’t know gets awfully too comfortable with her, and he’s touching her all over. She tries to walk away, and he grips her arm tightly as she fights against him. He’s so much stronger than she is, but her brain can only focus on getting away from him. Just before the panic sets in, she sees two familiar figures approaching from the side. Faster than she can note what is really happening, Azriel is separating the guy’s hand from Nesta’s arm and is shoving him too easily away from her. She’s immediately wrapped in a tight hug, her face tucked tightly into Cassian’s chest. She inhales his scent as she steadies her breath, and she clutches the back of his shirt like a lifeline. She isn’t truly crying, but tears are starting to pool in her eyes from the sheer relief of being safe with him. He pulls back only as much as he needs to cup her face with his hands. His brow is deeply furrowed as he scans her face in that knowing way of his, and his lips form a tight line. He is painfully concerned. He is furious. He is fighting all of those things to remain even for her.

“Are you okay? Nes, please. Talk to me. Tell me you’re okay.”

”I’m okay.” Her response is quiet, robotic.

“He’s gone. Azriel took care of it.”

She was yearning for a sense of normalcy, the intensity of his care becoming too much. She resorts to humor as she usually does.

“I’m surprised. It’s usually you who runs straight to the front lines. Forever the hero.” She cracks a small smile, hoping it’ll comfort him.

He’s still holding her face in his large hands. He drops his gaze briefly as he shakes his head, and when he looks back at her face, he’s wearing an ironic sort of smile.

“All I could see was you.”

The memory knocked the breath out of her, having been so long since she had thought about it. She understood his meaning then, but it hit her with a renewed vigor now. She superseded his basic instincts to protect, eliminate the threat. When it came to her, he trusted no one else and had to personally ensure she was okay. He would throw himself between her and anyone or anything that threatened her, and he would do it happily. Her heart clenched as she thought about how no one else could have made her feel comfortable or calmed her under those circumstances. Another tear rolled down her cheek at how careless she had been with his heart and how much she had taken him for granted. At how much she had always lied to herself. Because she was feeling particularly masochistic, she entertained one last memory, her tears pouring.

Her mother is terminally ill, and the doctors believe she will leave them any day now. It’s 3 AM, and her phone rings. Her father tells her she’s gone, and she holds herself together until she hangs up the phone. She is panicking; can’t catch her breath. Her father is calling Elain and Feyre, and they are supposed to meet at his house when they can get themselves ready. She doesn’t know how she will face this. She can’t do it. She can’t do it. She Can’t. Do. It.

Her fingers work automatically, pressing Cassian’s contact and putting him on speaker phone. Holding it to her face seems too taxing, and her tears will smear all over the screen. He answers in two rings, his voice gravelly with sleep.

”Nes?”

Her only answer is a choked sob, followed by several attempts at catching her breath.

“Nesta. I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me.”

She complies, finally mastering herself enough to say, “Momma” through her sobs.

“Nesta. Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I’m in the truck now. Please stay with me.”

Everything else is a blur except for hearing him come through her door. He opens her bedroom door swiftly, obviously in a hurry to get to her. He leaves the bedroom light off, allowing the hallway lighting to be his guide to her. His weight is shifting the mattress next to her, and he’s leaning against the headboard. He easily pulls her into his lap, and she’s tucking her face into his neck as she cries. She curls her legs into herself, and he holds her for what feels like seconds and years. She feels something wet soaking into the shoulder of her t-shirt and realizes his tears are falling as well.

He drives her to her father’s once she’s ready, holding her hand the entire way. He never leaves her side the days following, through arrangements, the ceremony, and family visitations. He makes sure she eats on somewhat of a schedule because time is all an illusion to her. He sleeps on her couch every night for the couple of weeks following, knowing bedtime is the hardest time for her, and she won’t want to be alone. She is so touched by his dedication, and she isn’t sure she could do this life without him.

She cried for a long time, only recovering when she felt like she had nothing left to give. She was hardly surprised at the landslide of emotions tackling her considering she had been repressing them for the entirety of their friendship. It was now apparent to her what should have always been apparent: she was in love with Cassian.

She was in love with him, but she had been myopic for so long that she may have finally exhausted his love for her.

——————————————————————————

A/N: Well, here it is. We’re nearing the end of this one, and I’m excited to get the rest up for y’all. As always, your feedback/ comments are welcome! If you’d like to be tagged, feel free to message, comment, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you to the tag list.

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theladyofbloodshed · 3 years ago

Text

Au Acosf - Chapter 75

@a-court-of-valkyries @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @nesquik-arccheron @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lyzriel @dustjacketmusings @sugardoll22l22 @gwynethhberdara @embersofwildfire @witchsouth @faeriebambula @lady-winter-sunrise

Perhaps sensing that Nesta was withdrawn, when they returned to the rest of the Night Court, Azriel brought her into a one-armed embrace. If Nesta - or the others - were surprised they didn’t let it show, not as she burrowed her face against him and let out a wearied sigh against his skin. After all, it had been Azriel who’d found Nesta wandering through Velaris drunk out of her mind and whisked her to Rosehall to keep her safe. Cassian would be forever indebted to his brother for doing what he could not.

‘I will just say goodbye to Eris and Adeline.’

Nesta shuffled through the crowd, her hands clamping over her ears as she went.

‘Fires,’ Cassian stated.

‘Still?’ Azriel asked, not unkindly.

Cassian nodded his head but the need to defend and explain rose in his chest. ‘She’s thinking of that day against Hybern too. About what she saw.’

Feyre gave a look of pity, but Rhys kept his eyes on Nesta who was embracing the lady of the court. Eris glanced their way then a leering grin was shown before he wrapped his arms around both females, squeezing tightly as he pressed them to his chest.

‘Snake,’ Rhys muttered.

Cassian only shrugged with indifference. ‘Nesta’s going home with me. If she wanted Eris, she’d have already picked him.’

‘Cass? Did something happen in those trees?’ Az regarded him curiously. ‘Has he hit his head? Who is this male speaking sense?’

‘The power of females,’ Rhys crooned then he kissed his mate on the side of the head, throwing a wink to Cassian.

Rhys winnowed them to the edge of the cabin while Feyre and Azriel aimed straight for Velaris. The brisk night was a contrast to the heat of the fires in the Autumn Court. The moment they landed, Zasha set off barking, the noise echoing in the emptiness surrounding the cabin.

‘I’d like to speak to Nesta briefly. Alone.’ Rhys raised a brow. ‘Just for a moment, we won’t be long.’

Reluctantly, Cassian entered the house to feed the dog, but Zasha was too excited to bother with food. It was not often that he left Rhys and Nesta alone together. He’d avoid it whenever possible. He had visions of Rhys being hurled back to Windhaven by Nesta’s silver flames. Or Nesta receiving a verbal reprimand for the political significance of aligning herself with Eris at an Autumn Court event and returning to him in a stinking mood.

The front door opened and Rhys called through that he was leaving. At least he’d ensured Nesta crossed through the threshold into the cabin. He’d do the same for Feyre.

Nesta found him in the kitchen where she slunk her arms around him to tuck herself against his body. ‘Why him?’

‘Too vague.’

Nesta groaned. ‘Why must I train my magic with him?’

‘Is that what he said?’

‘Well, he asked. But I can’t really say no, can I? Eris will too busy for the foreseeable future. Tonight reminded me of how volatile my magic can be. Eris did his best to train me, but I only know how to jail it – and even then it still can act of its own accord as if it has its own feelings.’

It was a burden he’d never wish for her, though Cassian was not afraid of that terrible magic within his mate. Rhys was the best person to train her magic, he’d always known it. ‘You want me to be there too?’

Nesta moved to Zasha to fuss the dog with both hands. ‘Actually, I think not. I think we need to just hash out our differences without an audience.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘He’s your brother and my sister’s mate. I’d rather try to be civil than constantly avoid interacting with him. He’ll come tomorrow.’

‘That bastard said I had the day off.’

‘He said you would say that and he swears that the day after is your day off entirely.’

Nesta needed a moment alone, so he left her drinking tea at the table with Zasha trying his best to drag his body up into her lap despite the tight space.

He’d showered and washed away all traces of the Autumn Court as well as his paranoia. He could have lost everything through his own insecurities. He had to be better, calmer. Had to trust Nesta. Eris Vanserra as high lord was not the worst thing in the world; he knew the prick well enough now to not be blindsided by him. In the early days of a high lord’s reign, he’d be busy establishing his court, examining laws, passing through new ones or scrubbing old ones. Knowing Eris, all of this was already planned. Cassian did not think for one second that Beron had slipped away quietly in his sleep, but if Nesta knew, he’d keep quiet for her sake rather than risk incriminating her in anything.

She entered the bedroom with a yawn, but her eyes were bright. Water dripped from her hair, running down her skin to the towel wrapped around her body.

‘You promised me that I wouldn’t be sleeping last night,’ she said, coming to lay on the bed. ‘And you rejected my advances.’

Cassian trailed a finger along her collar bone. ‘So, I need to make it up to you.’

He kissed his mate, long and deep. One hand wove in her damp hair, holding her where he wanted her but the other peeled away her towel, tossing it on the other side of the room. Would his breath ever not catch when he saw Nesta naked?

She raised her chest to graze it against his own. No longer did they feel any trepidation around each other’s bodies. Cassian knew Nesta well. Knew when she wanted to go slow and kiss and kiss until their lips were swollen. This was not one of those nights. Nesta’s nails clawed into his shoulders. He could feel her ankles digging into his back where she’d wrapped her legs around him, claiming him.

Cassian flipped them so Nesta was on top. Was there a greater sight than his mate naked on top of him? He reached to touch her breast, unable to resist the bounce of them, but Nesta swatted his hand away. Her body writhed on his, kissing his lips fiercely, her insatiable desire scorching through their bond. Cassian gripped her hips then – showing off slightly – lifted her higher and higher up the bed until her knees pressed into the feather-filled pillows.

‘I’m sitting on your face.’

‘That’s kind of the point, sweetheart.’

The muscles of her legs were taut where she was lifting her weight from him so he tugged her down and ran his tongue up her core.

‘What if you suffocate?’ She asked breathlessly.

‘I can’t think of a better way to go. Hold onto the headboard.’

For once, Nesta followed his instruction without complaint, her breathing already shallow and noticeably audible. Cassian’s tongue licked lightly then he let out a small noise of contentment, knowing the vibration against her sensitive skin would drive her wild. He needed no more encouragement than seeing her fingers grip the headboard until her knuckles turned white.

He used his thumbs to prise apart her sex, pride rising as he felt the thick wetness already building in anticipation. Nesta Archeon had wanted him tonight.

Cassian’s tongue circled against the fire of her sex, savouring the heat, then gently pushed inside. It was only a brief taste before drawing his tongue away. He’d never tire of the taste of her. Sweet and thick, all he ever wanted. But he wanted to tease her tonight.

His hands gripped her hips, moving her in a steady rhythm as his tongue lapped at the wetness seeping from his mate. Briefly, he teased her entrance again before swirling his tongue back to the apex of her thighs, sucking hard.

He exchanged spiralling his tongue for tender kisses. Nesta shifted her position, as if trying to force him to return his tongue to her. It only made him go slower, to deny the release she was seeking.

Languidly, he trailed his tongue up her centre again, savouring the satisfied moan that it created. It was a siren’s call that he could not help but answer.

‘Cassian,’ she whimpered, voice thin and reedy, coming out like a prayer. ‘Stop teasing.’

***

Thoughts left her entirely as Cassian’s tongue thrust in and out of her core, making her entire body jerk on his face. Every moan that came from her mate sent tremors rippling over her skin. Gone was any teasing. Cassian’s lips kissed every part of her they could reach, the pleasure building inside of her.

She could barely breathe. Her hips moved independently, rocking and grinding against her mate’s face, now that Cassian’s fingers were beneath her, spreading her open to access better with his mouth. A molten heat had settled low in her core, curling tighter with every pulse of his tongue.

His tongue stroked all of the way from the top then down, low enough for Nesta to lurch upwards from the sudden shock of what his tongue had discovered, the direction it had ended up.

‘What are you doing?’ She said, accusation seeping into her tone.

‘Sit down.’

From beneath her, Cassian was grinning with plump, wet lips. He kissed her thigh to soothe her nerves. In the dim light, his eyes appeared completely black and with the wings sprawling out beneath him, Cassian reminded her of a wicked creature from a story. One that had her completely at his mercy and was willing to do anything for her too.

‘Sit.’

Cassian was in no rush. His tongue arced back and forth, tracing Nesta in order to learn every inch of her. It softened over the most sensitive parts then lapped harder at the parts that could take more pressure until Nesta was completely comfortable again.

Any sense of decency had abandoned Nesta as she shamelessly rode his face into oblivion. The endings of her nerves were catching fire, as she sought release. Cassian feasted like a male starved. A hand curved around her ass spreading her wider. Nesta’s jaw went slack. She didn’t even know her own name anymore. Not as Cassian’s tongue and fingers stole all of her sense. This male knew exactly how to please a female.

The final tether snapped. Heat flooded Nesta’s body. Her legs quivered against Cassian’s face so his hands went there at once, holding her while she came on his tongue.

Nesta blinked down at Cassian; words were unreachable. With black hair spilling across the pillow and her thighs still clamped around his face, he managed to grin up at her.

He made a noise of protest when Nesta finally managed to stop straddling him and lay against his chest, breathing heavily. She kissed the scorching skin to express her gratitude because he’d stolen her ability to speak.

At the contact, Cassian wrapped his arms around her and let out a satisfied sigh. It was a testament to his will power that he could lay beside her while she gathered her scrambled senses.

His body demanded its own pleasure, hard and needy pressing against the material of his underwear.

She asked him to stand. He preferred to lay down when he came, but she needed him on his feet for what she had planned.

In her hand, Nesta lightly brushed against the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft then a featherlight touch against the darkened tip. Gentle kisses were painted along the velvet skin working down across his sac then back up. Cassian groaned with relief when Nesta finally sealed her lips around his cock, the underside of her tongue pressing down on the tip.

‘Keep your eyes on me.’

The dominant side of Cassian did something to Nesta. The need to please had her raising her grey eyes to meet his hazel ones, admiring them as she took every inch into her mouth, even as she gagged on his size.

‘Good girl. Take it all.’

Hearing the praise from his lips sent an arrow of heat lancing towards her core. They were in new territory tonight. It was a place she was keen to explore.

Nesta let the tip of her tongue trace along the delicate skin where his shaft met the head before taking it again in her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed, sucking hard, knowing Cassian liked it that way. She was rewarded with a low moan and him bucking his hips.

His hips chased every intake, pushing his cock deeper into her throat. With pride, Nesta heard how unsteady Cassian’s breathing was coming from his chest. How the muscles of his stomach tensed each time she swallowed his length. How his pupils dilated when she gagged but still kept him in her mouth.

They were made for each other. The bond had been something Nesta had wanted to run from, hated feeling as if she had been made for a male, but Cassian had been waiting for her all of his life, had been waiting over five hundred years for the female he could call his equal.

A thumb caressed her face as Cassian held her in place to fuck her throat. Nesta didn’t dare look away. She was rewarded with praise, rewarded with the view of her mate towering over her with a body hardened by centuries of training.

Cassian liked her loud. Liked her moaning even when all she could produce was a muffled vibration against his shaft. From the way he screwed up his face at every slurp of her tongue against his rock-hard cock, he was seconds from coming. The ache in her jaw was irrelevant. There was one force driving Nesta onwards – gifting her mate with as much pleasure as she could.

Nesta swallowed down every drop of his seed when he came, proud to do it, glad to taste him on her tongue. His wings had stretched out involuntarily but now they came to cradle her, protecting her.

‘So beautiful,’ Cassian said, leaning forwards to kiss her. ‘All mine.’

‘Lucky you,’ she smirked, catching her breath.

They grinned at each other, both giddy and happy. Cassian settled himself onto the edge of the bed while she headed towards her towel on the floor.

‘Where are you going?’ Cassian grabbed her, a strong hand gripping her wrist and he lay her over his lap. A big, warm hand took a generous squeeze of the softness of her rounded ass then a flattened palm smacked it, the force of it stinging.

‘Round two,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘Get on your knees.’

She moved to her knees and Cassian spread them further on the bed to the position he wanted to take her in. Nesta had no time to prepare as Cassian was driving all the way to the hilt, her moan spilling out of her at the feeling of him stretching her. It didn’t matter if he had just come to climax, he was ready immediately.

Cassian hissed with pleasure, dragging himself out, all the way to the tip then burying his cock as deep as it would go inside of her.

On the fourth thrust, Nesta’s knees gave out so she lay prone on the bed, taking Cassian’s punishing rhythm. The press of his weight on top of her, caging her to the bed, sent a thrill racing through her chest. His. She was his. She would let him do whatever he wanted to her in this bedroom. Take her however he wanted. She was his.

His hands pressed either side of her shoulders, his chest slick with sweat against her back, driving home with every thrust. The noises of Cassian plunging in and out would shame Nesta if she wasn’t already so far gone in lust. Their bodies rocked together. She reached for one of Cassian’s hands and he moved to lace his fingers with her own but Nesta didn’t want a sweet moment between lovers now. She wrapped his hand around her throat, squeezing it once, setting the pressure she wanted.

‘Fuck.’

Cassian’s body behind Nesta’s, his hand around her throat, the feel of his hair brushing against her shoulder, all of it was right.

‘Harder.’

She didn’t even know if Cassian could go any harder, but she wanted him to. Needed him to.

Roughly, he hauled her up onto her knees again then dragged her hands behind her back until it arched, sticking her chest out. Cassian slowed his thrusts but they were no less demanding. He was on his knees behind her, using her arms as a lever so she could sink down onto his cock.

Lips pressed over the pulse fluttering in her neck. She felt Cassian’s teeth scrape against the skin, the slight pain had her eyes rolling back in her head with an electrifying thrill.

Nesta took the hand that had found her breast and tore it away, guiding it hurriedly to the swollen pink pearl above her entrance and started moving Cassian’s fingers in circular motions, chasing the climax she was desperate to reach again.

When she came with a mewling whine, Cassian pushed her into the mattress, giving one hard thrust then his wings splayed out with his own orgasm.

He stayed buried within her for a while, their heart beats answering each other with a thunderous rhythm. By him, she was completely undone.

The male rolled onto his back, panting. The whorls of black ink shone from the sweat glistening along his torso.

‘You knew exactly what you wanted tonight,’ he said, clutching a hand over his stomach.

Nesta laughed and tugged the blanket around her. ‘You made me wait a few days for it.’

‘I think I’ll keep you,’ he murmured, peeling her sweat-slicked hair from her temples to kiss her delicately.

‘Forever?’

‘Always.’

***

It was an unexpected end to the night. There had been signs in the past that Nesta wanted him to take her a little harder or treat her a little rougher. He’d always been afraid to hurt her so only ever did it when she encouraged it. Females in the past had struggled with his size, but the Mother really had paired them well because Nesta had no trouble at all. Soon, he’d let her touch his wings; he’d teach her how to make him see stars.

They’d both had to shower again – and took each other once more with Nesta’s back pressed against the cold tiles and her legs wrapped around his waist - but smiley and sated they slipped beneath the covers, curling up against each other. A smell of apples wafted from Nesta’s damp hair beside him. They’d allowed Zasha into the room so the dog had bedded down beside Nesta where he was already snoring lightly.

‘Did Eris speak to you about Lucien?’ Nesta made a murmur that he took as a no. ‘He wants Lucien as part of his council.’

‘Of course, he would. Lucien is brilliant.’

That answer took Cassian by surprise. As Elain’s biggest protector, he thought Nesta might not have any warmth for Lucien – yet the male was capable of winning everybody round and looking good while he did it.

‘He serves us well enough.’

‘Yes, he does. Lucien makes many friends. He’s beloved still in Spring. Despite Feyre’s meddling, he’s been able to salvage his reputation there. He’s welcomed in most courts because he’s clever, and quick, and kind. Eris is not a fool, Cassian, Lucien is one of the most valuable males in Prythian.’

‘What about Elain?’

‘What about Elain?’ She echoed, turning to face him. He expected Nesta’s expression to be like a cat bracing itself to hiss or swipe with a claw, but Nesta seemed completely disinterested in the conversation. ‘Elain has had long enough to make an effort with Lucien. He has been nothing but polite and respectful, keeping his distance because she demanded it. I daresay he is more respectful than you ever were to me. Nobody has pushed her or forced her to interact with him. I say tough luck if Lucien’s had enough and wants to go home. He deserves to be happy.’

‘Who is this female in my bed? Where is Nesta Archeron chief defender of Elain?’

Nesta rolled her eyes. ‘It’s high time Elain grew up and had the decency to tell Lucien the truth. She’s a grown woman – the time is ripe to act like one.’ She burrowed closed to him in the blankets, pressing cold fingers against his warm chest. ‘I still have Feyre wittering at me over how unfair it is that I haven’t accepted a bond with you, meanwhile Elain won’t even sit by her mate for a group dinner. Utterly ridiculous.’

In her razor-sharp truth, Cassian supposed that Nesta was correct. More allowances had always been given to Elain because she took up less space, she was quieter and more pliant to her new way of life. Nesta had always been more of an obstacle who put up resistance. Yet Nesta had always told the truth, she had never shirked away from it unlike her sister who shied from it. Nesta had weathered storms to protect Elain, and it seemed that his mate had had enough of soaking herself to keep another dry.

Rhys arrived early to Illyria the next morning. A blood-red sky encroached on the horizon. Another downpour later that day then. Nesta was still in bed, groaning at Cassian to tell Rhys to go away when he rapped on the front door.

‘It absolutely reeks of sex in this cabin,’ he said by way of greeting when Cassian welcomed him in.

‘Aren’t I lucky?’

‘Celebrating Beron’s life?’ Rhys helped himself to a green apple from the bowl. He tossed it into the air casually then took a bite from it, the juice spraying into the air. ‘She said anything about his death?’

Cassian shook his head. ‘And I’m not asking.’

‘I’d put good money on her knowing something.’

He raised his hands into the air. ‘No comment. If you’re brave enough, you ask her. She’s already grumpy because you woke her up after a late night.’

‘I don’t need to know about your late night. It’s bad enough that I can smell it, Cass.’ Rhys shook his head. 'Tomorrow, you can have off. I promise. High Lord's honour. Az is in Iron Crest for the next two days so then I'll need you to spar with him before he loses his sanity.'

***

A one-on-one morning with Rhysand filled Nesta with no joy at all. They watched Cassian soar across the horizon, saying he had to go to Velaris, neither speaking until he was just a speck in the distance.

Rhysand asked her what sorts of training she’d done with Eris then asked for the odd display of what she could do. She let her silver flames lick over the tips of her fingers like a wisp of fog then she pulsed her power so her entire hands were covered in fire. To demonstrate the control that she’d worked so hard to cultivate, Nesta halted her power like throwing a wet towel over the top.

‘Can you use it to defend yourself?’

‘It’s too dangerous.’

Rhys waged an internal war to not quip something sarcastic and managed to hold himself back, giving Nesta a smile that resembled more of a grimace. His hands hung awkwardly at his sides, likely feeling as uncomfortable as she did. Nesta hadn’t even realised that she’d shifted her feet to plant them into a stance that Cassian had taught her until Rhysand had drawled that she looked as if she was about to throw a punch.

What did they have in common besides Cassian and Feyre? Nothing. Rhys had formed his opinion of her before meeting her – and it had never shifted from its position. Nor had hers that he was an arrogant prick who swanned about like he owned the world.

She waited in the garden, feeling the odd spit of rain falling from the grey clouds, until Rhysand returned. He’d brought the fruit bowl into the garden then placed an apple onto the ground.

‘Use your power on that. Just the apple.’

Nesta furrowed her brow but did as he told her to. Eris and she had worked for a long time on building a dam to block the flood of her power. It had become second nature to turn on a tap and little some of it trickle out in the direction she wanted. The apple rotted, the skin turning brown and soft before the flesh caved in on itself leaving only a withered core.

‘Good. You’ve trained well with Eris. Will you do it again?’

As Rhys placed another apple on the ground, she tried to decipher whether his tone had been sarcastic or not. Instinct had her believing it was the former. He folded his arms expectantly until Nesta repeated the parlour trick.

‘This time, I want you to push through my power to rot the apple.’

‘Cassian will be disappointed. They’re his favourite type of apple.’

‘I’ll buy him some more,’ he replied, eyes twinkling, but there was a wariness to his expression. That day in Banhurst, Rhys had gone into her mind to calm her magic. He had seen the endless depths of it, knew what it was capable of.

Magic slithered from him, black and slick, shrouding the third apple like a veil. Nesta met it with her silver flames. It probed and caressed his magic as if searching for a way in. She felt the brush of his own against hers, forcing it back.

‘Keep going,’ he urged, despite the resistance.

The defence came stronger. With each pulse of her magic, Rhys’ pushed his harder trying to suffocate the flames. Nesta’s magic pushed at the walls she had created, determined to find a way out for all of it to wipe Rhysand’s magic off the map. It was difficult to concentrate on sweeping away Rhysand’s magic and to manage her own that was trying to fight its way out of the cage she kept it in.

A sudden flare scorched the ground and a wave of blackness smothered it.

Nesta stepped back panting. ‘Sorry. I have to stop.’

‘Fine.’

Her hand sought the rough feel of the one lonely pine tree in the garden while she re-built her mental walls, coaxing her magic back inside of it like a wild animal. Rhys had been into the house and held out a glass of water for her.

‘You did well, Nesta.’

‘I rotted two apples. I’d hardly call that spectacular.’

‘I am the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history and your magic nearly restrained mine. I’ve had five hundred years to practise. What’s more, you were incredibly controlled. You did well,’ he repeated, pushing the glass of water into her hand to drink.

It had only been a small thing, but already Nesta felt weak and shaky from using her magic against Rhysand’s own.

‘Did you begin to lose control?’

‘Not me, it. It always wants to come out. I can manage it well enough like this, but if I’m upset or angry, it can break out easier.’

Rhys nodded, eyes roving over her. ‘I know the burden of so much magic. It’s not an easy thing to carry. Your magic is part of you – it wants to protect you. When you threw me on my ass in Windhaven, it was your magic responding to a threat.’

‘I stole it. It’s not mine.’

‘It is yours. Trust me, if that magic was not happy residing in you, it would let you know about it. There are stories of fae throughout history who have seized others’ magic to make themselves stronger. It never ends well for them. We have histories of it in the library in Velaris. Feyre said you read everything. You should come soon and explore the books.’

A thought came to her. ‘If one could take another’s magic, could I give mine away?’

‘You do not want your power?’

‘Why would I want this? None should wield the power of death, Rhysand.’ Nesta swallowed. ‘I never wanted any of this. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t stayed with Elain. That I followed Feyre and took your offer of safety as a mortal in Velaris. That Hybern didn’t drag me from my bed. That I hadn’t been so full of anger that I clawed at the Cauldron until it bled.’

A hand touched between her shoulder blades but then he thought better of it. They were not there yet in their budding relationship, but the regret on his face was genuine.

Her vitriol towards him that first day they met was simply a fear of faeries, a fear of what could happen to her and Elain, a fear that Elain’s happy ending with Graysen could be snatched away. All of them had been proved to be true.

‘Let’s go inside. You’re getting rained on.’

Zasha leapt up at them, tongue lolling from his mouth, in the kitchen.

‘Would you like breakfast?’

‘You can cook? I’m only surprised because Feyre can barely heat up leftovers.’

Nesta inhaled. ‘Who do you think cooked all the carcasses she brought home?’ She cracked eggs into a jug, whisking them with a fork until her arm ached then threw in green peppers, onion, and chunks of ham. ‘My speciality is rabbit or wood pigeon - the finest meats Feyre could rustle up from the forest. I hope an omelette will be good enough, high lord.’

Rhys’ mouth opened and closed. Nesta caught him blinking several times until he busied himself with stroking Zasha. She poured half the mixture into a sizzling pan slick with butter.

‘Do not tell Cassian I’m cooking for you.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it. I will tell Feyre though.’

Nesta snorted. ‘Did she ever tell you about the mystery soup?’

At the shake of his head, Nesta continued. ‘Sometimes we had so little to eat that I’d make mystery soup. It was anything I could find. The last bits of dried meat, bones for stock, tired vegetables that had seen better days. None of it ever tasted nice, but it stopped the ache in our bellies. We’d call it mystery soup and Elain and Feyre would try to guess what could possibly be in it. It was better that they didn’t know. We even had squirrel one year. It caught in one of Feyre’s snares and she planned just to use the fur because it was so skinny, but in it went to the mystery soup.’

She didn’t know him well enough to understand his expression as she set his breakfast in front of him. Nesta turned back to the stove to cook the rest of the mixture for her own meal.

‘I had a sister,’ he said quietly. ‘She was a bit like all three of you; strong-minded, independent, spoilt rotten by my father too. One time, I warned her not to go flying. A storm was coming in and we had to go to the Hewn City with my father later. Seren came back – late – absolutely drenched, she’d hurt her wing too. My father was furious. Not with her. With me. For not stopping her. For letting her go flying.’

Nesta sat opposite him. Perhaps they were more alike than either had ever realised – or wanted to admit. She ate quietly, allowing him to continue. Nesta knew his mother and sister had been killed by Tamlin and his family. Their heads had been sent in a box down a river. The rest of their bodies had been disposed of somewhere else without dignity.

‘I remember being so outraged that he could dare blame me for it. I’d warned Seren not to and she didn’t listen. I was her brother, not her keeper. I think what I am trying to say is,’ he breathed out, setting the fork down, ‘that Feyre has her own mind, just as Seren did. And if I couldn’t prevent my sister from flying in a storm then you could not stop yours from hunting. I’m sorry that we haven’t always seen eye to eye.’

Nesta was too stunned to even speak. Her omelette lay forgotten on the plate while she gripped the fork tightly like Elain had the first time they’d met the three bats when their sister had returned as one of the fae folk.

‘When Feyre returned to the Spring Court, I wasn’t thinking of anything except her. You and Elain needed support and care to manage your new life. You are my mate’s sisters,’ he said, swallowing. ‘And I didn’t do enough to help you. I should have known that your anger came from pain because that was me. When my mother and sister were murdered, I wanted to set the world on fire. And – do not tell him I said this – I should have told Cassian to back off and leave you alone, to give you time to adjust.’

‘We have both been horrid to each other.’

Rhys nodded. ‘But I am far older and wiser and should have known better.’

‘So modest. Do all males do this when you feed them? Should I expect a lamenting monologue from Cassian when I feed him?’

‘Will you feed him?’

Nesta sighed with despair. ‘You and Feyre are perfect for each other. Both such busy bodies. Eat your food, I have a friend to visit in Windhaven.’

‘And you and Cassian both like to boss others around,’ he winked.

‘Yes, well, as long as he understands that I am in charge in this relationship.’

Rhys laughed, the tension between them feeling non-existent for once. ‘Nesta, don’t worry, we all know that.’

#please don't judge me for the smut i feel like i need to bathe in holy water #au acosf

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theladyofdeath · 5 years ago

Text

Alone in the Ashes {20}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click > Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: More fluff? “But, Tara, that’s so out of character for you.” “But, Tara, what ever happened with Tamlin?” “TARA WHY IS EVERYTHING GOING SO WELL” solid questions......

You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming. You are the first dream of my soul, and from that dream I hope will come all other dreams, a lifetime’s worth. - Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“Show me!” Feyre called, yelling behind the velvet curtain. Mor was trying on bridesmaid dress after bridesmaid dress, giving Feyre her own personal runway show.

Which she deserved. She was the bride-to-be, after all.

“Alright, okay,” Mor muttered from inside of the dressing room. “This one has a low back and a high neckline. And, I must say, my ass looks fantastic.”

Feyre laughed but that laughter faded once Mor came out, because she was right - she looked stunning. It hugged her body without being too risque and the deep, lavender color suited her perfectly.

“I love that,” Feyre said, eyes wide. “It’s perfect. Even the color. That’s our color. That’s your dress. You’re getting that.”

“Am I?” Mor asked.

“Yes, and if you don’t, I’m kicking you out of the bridal party.”

Mor snorted. “Fine. I accept. Now, I’m making you try on dresses.”

“My sisters should be here,” Feyre said, just as she had every other time Mor had suggested otherwise.

“You don’t have to get one today,” Mor said. “Please? Just try on a few then we can go get lunch.”

“Fine,” Feyre groaned, hopping up from the couch she was sitting on.

The owner of the boutique came over and helped Feyre into a room before Mor, now changed into her shorts and tank top, went crazy, bringing her a handful of dresses.

“Take your time,” Mor called, closing the curtain behind her. “I’ll be sitting right out here, let me know if you need help.”

Feyre sighed, taking in the line up of dresses before her. At first, she slipped on a ballgown, but the moment she stepped out of the dressing room and looked into the mirror, she wanted to yank it off her body and burn it. Too puffy, too frilly. She felt like she was going to prom - been there, done that. She went through two more that even Mor had cringed at before setting her eyes on a slim fit, beaded gown with an open back and a low, sweetheart neckline. It had thin straps and a long, beautiful lace train.

Feyre slipped it on.

She stepped out of her dressing room and looked into the mirror.

Mor gasped, eyes lined with tears.

“Feyre,” she breathed.

“I know,” Feyre said, shaking her head. “Damn you, Mor! I was supposed to wait for my sisters!”

They both broke into a fit of laughter as Feyre admired the dress in the mirror. It was perfect. It was flawless. There was nothing about it that Feyre didn’t like.

Rhysand wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her.

She was barely able to keep her hands off of herself.

It was just over her budget; but, she didn’t really care. She wouldn’t be telling Rhysand, who she scolded just the night before about ordering too many flowers - but, she didn’t really care. She would only ever have one wedding dress.

“How long will it take for this dress to come in if I ordered it today?” Feyre asked.

The owner went to a little computer where she typed away for a minute before saying, “Six months.”

All the breath left Feyre’s body.

But Mor wasn’t taking that shit.

“There isn’t any way it can get in sooner?” Mor asked. “Can she buy the one she has on and have it fitted? She’s getting married in October and that dress needs to be on her body when the day comes.”

The owner looked back and forth between Mor and Feyre.

Her lips thinned. “I will see what I can do.”

She went back to work on her computer as Mor snapped an endless string of pictures on her phone of Feyre in her dress, which she promised to send to Elain.

Five minutes later, Elain had sent a reply: G E T I T N O W

Amren’s replying text was similar: If she doesn’t get that dress I will break in after hours and steal it for her.

If Elain approved, it was a must.

If Amren was talking about breaking the law, it wasn’t unusual, but it was still a must.

The owner was still trying to figure out a way to get it in sooner, now speaking to someone on the phone in hushed tones.

Feyre looked in the mirror, again. It was beautiful. Stunning. She could imagine it, paired with a simple pair of heels and a long, simple veil. She could picture Rhysand’s face as she walked toward him in the dress. He would watch her with wide, teary eyes, and a small smile, full of utter adoration.

It was the dress.

Half an hour had passed before the owner rejoined them. The elderly woman sighed, as if all of her energy had been sucked away. “I can get it here in two months-”

Feyre heard nothing else because Mor had jumped up, off the couch, and was running to Feyre with her arms wide open. Laughing, Feyre let Mor embrace her, all while picturing her wedding day.

What a perfect day it would be.

~~~~~

Cassian had gone for a jog along the Sidra, listening to his hype playlist through his earbuds. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon. The sun was bright, high in the sky, not a cloud to be seen. The flowing waters of the Sidra were sparkling beside him.

Even Bryaxis had a little pep in his step, when usually he was trailing behind Cassian and whining after a mile.

They stopped near a little park where Cassian plopped down in the grass, Bryaxis beside him. After taking a drink from his water bottle, he squirted some into Bryaxis’ mouth, too, when his phone went off.

Nesta’s name popped up on his screen.

All of these movies you’re making me watch from the 80s are weird as fuck.

Cassian smiled at his screen before typing back, Which one are you watching now?

It was no secret that Cassian loved movies, so when Nesta asked for recommendations, he had given her a longass list and a giant stack from his personal collection. She had been living with Elain for about two weeks now, and was loving her sister’s company. Cassian hadn’t seen her much, though. He helped her move in, as he promised he would, but he was aware she needed space for now, and he was okay giving her that.

Didn’t keep them from having little text conversations nearly every day, though.

The Lost Boys, she sent back, with a little vampire emoji.

What?? Cassian texted. It’s a classic!

Oh, please, she replied. It’s obvious why you’re such a fan.

Bryaxis had climbed onto his owner’s lap and Cassian was scratching his head, between his ears, when he sent, And why is that?

It took her a minute to reply in which Cassian used to stretch out his long, sweaty legs.

Then the reply came: Bc you’re basically Michael

Cassian cocked his head to the side, even though she wasn’t around to see it. Untrue.

He could imagine her rolling her eyes. Especially when he got her text back. Long hair, motorcycle, thinks he’s hot as shit? Yeah, you’re Michael.

Cassian looked down at Bryaxis. “Nesta’s being mean, Ax.”

Bryaxis’s tail went wild at the mention of her name.

Cassian’s only reply was, I am hot as shit.

Nesta replied with the eye-rolling emoji.

Then, she sent, I’m almost done with the stack you gave me, and as weird as they may be, I wouldn’t mind if you brought me some more?

Before Cassian could reply, Nesta followed the text with, Maybe tomorrow? If you’re not busy after work.

Cassian looked back down to Bryaxis as he grinned. He didn’t know why he was grinning, felt ridiculous at grinning to himself and his dog in the middle of a crowded park, but he couldn’t stop that stupid little grin.

Sure. I’ll be over around 6?

Six gave him enough time to run home, shower, and grab another stack of DVDs she would surely be calling weird as fuck in no time.

Cassian finished stretching, did thirty sit-ups, and was back on his feet, Bryaxis’s leash in hand when Nesta replied: Perfect.

~~~~~

Elain looked at her phone, where she had set a timer.

It had only been fifteen seconds.

The bathroom was small, but she paced back and forth relentlessly. She had chugged half a gallon of water, Nesta watching her curiously as she did so, before excusing herself to go to the bathroom.

They had been watching some vampire movie from the 80s. Not exactly Elain’s thing. She was glad for any excuse that politely removed her from the room.

Even if said excuse was anxiety ridden.

Another glance at her phone.

Thirty seconds.

Her pacing continued, her fingers drumming wildly against her thighs.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing, right? I mean...Azriel would be great, of course, but it certainly wasn’t ideal. They had only been dating a few months, only began sleeping with each other the month before.

If it was true, it must have happened that first night, or one of the nights soon after.

It was too soon.

Elain’s anxiety shot through the roof.

She looked at her phone.

Forty-five seconds.

Two minutes felt like a lifetime when everything was on the line.

She was only a week late, but even when she was barely eating, her period had always remained normal - perfectly spaced out, returning like clockwork the third week of every month.

Her eyes met her phone.

One minute down.

One minute to go.

“It’s okay,” she breathed, shaking out her hands, as if that would somehow make the situation better. “It’s alright. Breathe.”

By the Cauldron, what if it was positive?

Would it really be okay?

Azriel would freak out, without a doubt.

He already had Mila. She couldn’t add more onto his plate.

She looked at her phone.

One minute, twenty seconds.

But he was so good with Mila. He would be an amazing father. So gentle and kind, so loving and passionate.

But would he want to have kids with Elain?

She imagined he hadn’t even thought about such a thing yet. Elain hadn’t even thought about it, not until she went eight days over her start day without her period.

For the Mother’s sake, they hadn’t even used the word love with one another yet.

Phone.

One minute, forty-seconds.

Elain couldn’t breathe. She slumped down to the floor, on top of the gray, fluffy rug, and closed her eyes.

In, out.

Don’t panic.

Panic doesn’t help.

But she couldn’t help it. Her eyes began to water, the tears trickling down her pale cheeks.

She suddenly had a feeling that everything was about to change. She was a woman. She knew her body. Either it had gone into shock with all the lifestyle changes she had made in the recent weeks, or this was all real.

Her timer went off, and her eyes shot open.

She took her phone off the counter and silenced the timer.

Then, with a shaky hand, she pulled the test off the counter.

Pregnant.

She read it twice, ten times, twenty times, that single word the only word she could think of.

She was pregnant.

Pregnant.

With child.

With Azriel’s child.

A fist pounded on the door, scaring Elain shitless. She swore, quietly, scrambling up from the floor.

“Hey, it’s Az. Nesta said you came upstairs. I assume you’re in there, since….well, you’re not anywhere else up here. Hope you don’t mind me coming by early. I dropped Mila off with Mor and Feyre to look for a flower girl dress. I was told I’m not allowed to see it before the wedding day, so...”

Elain took a deep breath, hoping her voice remained steady when she said, “Hey! Oh, I’m just...fixing my contacts.”

A pause. “Okay. I’ll go downstairs and wait with Nesta. I’ll catch the end of The Lost Boys.”

“Great,” Elain said, and her voice broke.

Azriel didn’t move from the other side of the door. She could see the shadows from his feet. “You okay? You sound upset.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she promised him, although she obviously wasn’t. “Just a little emotional today.”

“Alright,” Azriel said, uncertainly. “Can I open the door?”

“I’m naked,” she blurted.

“While putting in contacts?” Azriel said, huffing a laugh. “Not that it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

The doorknob turned, and Elain cursed herself for not locking the door.

She quickly hid the test stick behind her back as he came in.

He took one look at her red cheeks, her blurry eyes, and frowned. “Hey…”

She was frozen in place as he stepped toward her, as he took her face into his hands and wiped away her tears. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, and Azriel pulled her into his arms.

His body stilled.

He was taller than her by quite a bit, no doubt looking down as she planted her face into his chest.

Down at Elain’s hands, behind her back, gripping the test so hard that her knuckles were white.

Azriel reached around her and took it from her hands. He stepped back, looking down at it.

Pregnant.

He took a step back, studied it as if he wasn’t seeing it correctly.

His face was unreadable.

Elain’s hands flew over her mouth as she broke into a sob.

Azriel’s gaze jerked up, his eyes widened as she cried. “Hey, hey, no..”

He set the test down on the counter and pulled Elain into his arms. He held her tightly against him as she wept.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, voice muffled against his shirt.

“About what?” he whispered. “You don’t have to apologize, El. Okay? Don’t apologize.”

She nodded, and when she looked up at him, his hazel eyes shone. “Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

He hesitated, his hands still rubbing her back. “I’m not….I’m in shock, I guess. But, I’m not….mad, Elain, I think you think I’m mad.”

She took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “I’m in shock, too.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “Well, that’s good.”

Elain laughed, softly. “How is that good?”

“Pretty sure shock is normal in these situations,” he said, quietly.

All the tension left Elain’s shoulders. “I’m scared.”

“About what?” he asked, voice low.

“All of it,” she said. “Carrying a child, birthing a child, and everything that comes after that. And you...Azriel…” Her words trailed off, but Azriel didn’t say anything. He watched her and waited, patiently. “You would be an amazing dad, Az, but I don’t want to trap you.”

His brows furrowed as he brushed her newly fallen tears away. “Is that what you think? That I would stay with you because you’re pregnant? Or, that I would even want to leave you in the first place?”

Elain looked down. She shrugged. She wasn’t sure what she thought, wasn’t sure how to sort her thoughts.

Azriel lifted her chin back up with his fingers. “Do you want to have this baby?”

It was the same question that Elain had stayed up the night before asking herself, over and over again. If it’s positive, do you want to keep it? Elain laid her palms flat against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath. Although afraid, she felt completely confident when she answered, “Yes.”

Azriel smiled, tentatively, and nodded. “Then I’m going to be here, okay? You’re not trapping me, Elain. You couldn’t trap me if you tried. I know we’ve been together for a few months, and we’re still in that honeymoon stage, and I won’t pretend that I know what the future holds....But I do know that I love you.” He kissed her forehead. “And I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to do this, and it’s going to be okay, okay?”

Elain laid her palm against his cheek, brushing away the tear he had that fell. “You love me?”

She knew Azriel, knew he didn’t say things unless they were true. And, after talking with Mor, she knew Azriel had never said that word to another woman.

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I do. But, you don’t have to-”

“I love you, too,” she breathed, interrupting his modesty.

And it was true.

Yes, she had loved Graysen, but it was a false love. She loved the idea of Graysen, loved the life they had built, but it wasn’t true, Graysen had proven that in the end.

But with Azriel…

Azriel was truth, kindness, gentleness, passion, genuity, love. He was everything she needed for herself, all wrapped up into one, perfectly imperfect man.

And she loved that about him.

She loved him.

He smiled down at her, and it was one of those smiles that she had only seen a handful of times from him. His teeth showed, his eyes went bright, his plump lips curved upward. That smile...it was an image that Elain kept in her memory for her darkest of days.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @starkovsnesta @redisriding @photofeesh

@mariamuses @tswaney17 @amaranthas-whore @awesomelena555

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@empress-ofbloodshed @starkovsnesta @nickjgoodsell

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #feysand #elriel #nessian #tacmc AITA #the end is coming

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