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xxvalkyriesxx · 2 months ago

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Flying Changes - Chapter Six

A Nessian Equestrian Fic

Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Read on AO3 or below!

@nessianweek (post for Day Seven - Free Day)

AN: Hello Everyone!!! It's been a bit since I last updated Flying Changes! Thank you so much for being kind and patient with me as I participated in my first Nessian week! You can read the fics I wrote for Nessian week either through my Nessian Week 2024 series or the NessianWeek2024 collection here on AO3!! You can also read my fics on Tumblr if you're there too!

Shout out to IRL fandom friend who's been helping with some details for this chapter and a few others! They're amazing and I love them!!

CW: Panic attacks, discussions on anxiety

Snippet:

“Easy, Sweetheart. Some might think you’re flirting with me.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, her stomach turning to iron. “As if.”

She stood up from the chair. “Am I needed for anything else?”

Cassian shook his head. “No. But before you go off to read your smut and dream of those “barbaric men and warrior women”, I need you to go muck the stalls in the private barn.”

Arching an eyebrow, she shook her head. “I did that this morning.”

Ironically this was the first time Nesta stepped foot into Cassian’s office. It was above the therapy barn’s tack room. Windows were displayed on the side creating a perfect view of most of the stalls. She couldn't help but wonder how many times he had watched her through these windows as she did chores. Was it similar to how she would watch from her bedroom window?

The door shut as Cassian walked through the threshold. The sound made Nesta’s shoulders tense, her heartbeat was faster than normal. A sick familiar wave of dread anchored her belly, pinning her to the chair she sat in. Cassian crossed over to his desk speaking, but not a single word did she hear. Not as phantom memories filled her ears like water. Her eyes were casted downwards, afraid. Afraid of what she couldn’t tell. The anxiety of her rotten memories or the anxiety of the what-ifs littering her mind like landfills.

Will I ever break free from this cycle? Or is this the cycle the Mother doomed me to run in through until I’m six feet under, giving my skin and hair back to the world that created me.

Nesta.

Her name was called, but the voice was so distorted was it even real? Air suddenly felt like a right that she couldn’t have. As she breathed, the world around her began to shrink. The walls of the room pushed closer and closer to where she sat. The furniture scratched across the wooden floors.

Nesta, you’re having… panic attack. I’m going…open the door…let air in…need you to focus… Tether yourself…

The voice weaved through her ears, not catching everything that was spoken. There was a presence near her, but it wasn’t too close, but too far. It was familiar and oddly made her feel warm in the arctic hellscape of her mind. The room froze in her terminal, but the furniture kept quiet, the walls still as statues. Her head took in the scene before her.

Five things. What five things can you see? Can you describe them to me?

Words piled onto her tongue waiting for her mind to open her mouth, but nothing fell out. The presence was still near her, but close enough to touch.

Breathe. Name five things.

Windows. Desk. Couch. Photo. Books.

Good, describe them to me.

The windows are to the right of me. I can see the stalls from there.

The desk is in front of me. It's brown.

The couch is on my left side. It’s velvet and green.

There’s a picture on the wall, seven guys in camo.

Books…They were on the nearby shelf. The books are different colors. Blacks, grays, and reds. Some look thick, some thin.

That’s great Nesta. What are four things you can touch?

Somehow the room started to shift back to place. The walls went back in their normal position. Nesta blinked, feeling the wood of the chair she sat in. Her eyes adjusted, the blur slowly leaving her sight. The chair. The wood is smooth, but the further I go, I feel ridges carved with designs.

Nesta reached over to the desk picking up a stack of papers. Documents, probably important. Thin yet the stack holds weight.

Still on the desk, Nesta grabbed a toy horse. A tiny horse. It’s dapple gray and seems to be cantering. The mane and tail are a little sharp with the horse in motion. It’s a plastic toy, but not a breyer horse.

Finally she reached over to the nearby lamp, her hand around the pull-switch. It was metallic and beaded, slightly cool in between her finger pads. Gently she pulled it, the lamp turning on, a warm light filling her vision. The pull-switch of this lamp. It’s kinda cold, not heavy.

I see you, Nesta. You’re grounding yourself. Can you name three things you can hear?

Taking a deep breath, the air traveled from her nose to mouth, in a setting she didn’t know how long it took her to exhale. Was it fast? Was it too slow? Was this good enough? Her gaze wandered over the blur that tricked her eyes. Slightly focused then slightly not.

Focus. What three things do you hear?

Head breaking the surface of the distorted noise, Nesta focused. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. Nesta looked away from the blurb, her eyes landing on an old grandfather clock. The clock, it’s ticking. She shifted, taking another breath.

Eventually another noise drifted from the open door. A horse was neighing, probably Jasper. He was the one horse who never shut up. The sound gave light to her belly. Her body wiggled and moved in the chair, the anchor pulling from the pit. Jasper. He’s loud.

Then she heard the blur snort, an almost laugh. Or was it a laugh for real? Your laugh?

“Why are you saying it as a question?” “Are you laughing?”

Silence met her until a voice strode into her mind. “Yes, I’m laughing. You know the horses better than I thought.”

“Name me two things you can smell.”

Nesta sniffed and then sniffed again. A scent, there was a scent that swayed around the room that provided enough evidence it was lingering in the air instead of in her head. “It smells like fall. Clove, cedar, maybe a hint of vanilla? It’s not strong, the scent is mellow enough. Like a candle.” Her head wandered until she saw an air freshener plugged into a nearby socket.

She took another breath, her mind still as she narrowed down something else. It came after moments on end as she tried hard to find something past the scented cloud that was in the office. The other scent was fading, but it gave Nesta just the tiniest of scrapes, in the shape of a needle. “Hay…It’s a dumb answer being in a horse barn.”

“Not at all.”

Her come down was less of free falling and now floating. The ground was in sight as if she could stretch her toes down to touch the floor before her feet fully planted on it.

“Name one person or thing that you’re grateful for.”

A slow rise of panic crawled in, making her go from her body floating in air to a being in hot air balloon. The fire brought her up. Nesta took one, two, three deep breaths slowly, keeping her heartbeat regulated. A face came into view of a woman, beautiful brown eyes, black hair. Her presence was what a friend was described as in the books Nesta read. She clung the name close to her heart. “Emerie.”

“Nesta.” The voice spoke her name.

She looked up to see Cassian kneeling near her. Close enough he could touch her if he tried, but provided a safe distance. Something twanged in her heart, but she pushed it away. It wasn’t anxiety, it was nonsense.

“You did excellent.” He praised, a soft smile on his lips. “The door.” She whispered the barrier, but swallowed her anxiety, speaking clearly. “The door. It was the door that triggered me.”

Cassian’s ears pinked as his fingers pulled on his ponytail. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to slam the door like that.” His gaze lingered from the floor to her eyes. Nesta nodded. “It’s..it’s okay, you didn’t know. But I would prefer not to be taken away to a private area when you’re angry. It..” Her memory was bile rising up her throat.

Cassian nodded slightly, encouraging her. There was no force in his demeanor. “It just brings up..bad stuff.” She didn’t want to name it as if it was a curse looking to haunt her. “That’s..that’s all I need to know, Nesta. I’ll know going forward that isn’t the best plan of action.”

“Thank you.”

“I wanted to speak to you in private because I did want to address a few things that happened in that arena.” Cassian said as he stood up, sitting slightly on top of his desk.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” “I hate to admit this Nesta, but you did.” His voice was calm, apologetic. There was no hate or taunt that threaded his letters. “What did you think I did wrong by standing up for Gwyn.”

Cassian shook his head. “It’s not that.. That took courage. Courage that most people in today’s world don’t have.” “Then what was your issue?” Nesta asked, an irritation gnawing at her. “Legal.”

Nesta blinked once, then twice. She didn’t know why but she was expecting something stupid to come out his mouth like because she’s traumatized or something even misogynistic about her being a woman or perhaps both.

“Legally, if you were to do that and not be an actual staff member during an actual lesson if the ranch was up and running, then you would become liable for whatever happens in that arena, and how it affects everyone there and on this ranch.”

A bitter response was out before she could yank the anger back. “Then hire actual people to prevent what I had to witness.” She waited for his anger to bite her back, sending her from panics to complete rage.

“Well…I can’t argue with that, now can I?”

Nesta opened her mouth, then closed, then opened to say something, then abruptly closing her lips again. Cassian shook with laughter and somehow Nesta thought there were butterflies flying in her belly. It would be a lie to say she hated the feeling.

“Forgive me, but you’re just really cute when you’re like that, Nesta.” Cassian smiled brightly. Her face was in flames with how pink her cheeks came to be. She quickly looked away, her nose scrunching from the embarrassment. He laughed a little more before leaning back, his hands resting on the edge of the desk.

“Back to what we were speaking about. I’m glad you were there for Gwyn and helped her get more simulated with horses. It was a greatcall to use Sundrop. However, you may be an Olympic equestrian, but you never trained to work with therapy horses. Things could have gotten a lot worse today.”

He shrugged. “I mean for all we know, the shitty therapist could be bad mouthing the ranch. I guess it’s a good thing we are technically closed. And I guess I still have a lot to learn being a ranch manager.” “I can’t argue with that.” The smallest of smirks on her lips, echoing his statement from moments ago. Cassian pursed his lips as he shook his head.

“Easy, Sweetheart. Some might think you’re flirting with me.” Nesta rolled her eyes, her stomach turning to iron. “As if.”

She stood up from the chair. “Am I needed for anything else?” Cassian shook his head. “No. But before you go off to read your smut and dream of those “barbaric men and warrior women”, I need you to go muck the stalls in the private barn.” Arching an eyebrow, she shook her head. “I did that this morning.”

“Horses shit a lot. Take it as a learning lesson, Nes.” “That’s not my name.” Nesta glared at him. His lips were sealed as she scoffed before turning around.

As she crossed the threshold, Nesta couldn’t help but think Cassian looked similar to his younger self from the photograph in his office surrounded by fellow military personnel.

Pushing the wheelbarrow through the barn, Nesta hated to admit that Cassian was right. The stalls were dirtier than usual in between cleanings.

“Damn horses.” Nesta mumbled underneath her breath as she went to the first empty stall. There was a stall sign that resembled a plaque installed into the front of the stall. The sign read “Odysseus”. There was no show name or owner name, but as they didn’t board the barn out to outsiders, it made sense why there was no need to showcase the owner.

With the pitchfork in her gloved hand, Nesta cleaned out the stall, ridding it of the dirty hay and shit that littered the stall mat. Next, Nesta grabbed the buckets from the stall, giving the water and food buckets a good rinse both drying them off. On her way back, she grabbed new bedding. She layered the new bedding over the mat, making sure it was rid completely of manure and wet bedding before the new bedding was placed.

Before coming to the ranch, Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she used any of her muscles before her fall. She used to dance on the side, and did it while she drank, but it had been almost a year since she last had the urge to dance at all. The first two weeks were rough, but slowly the settled routine gave her some stamina to flesh out.

It didn’t stop her from breaking a sweat once she finished the first stall. The wheelbarrow wasn’t too full, so Nesta moved along to the next empty stall, when something shiny caught her eye. It was a necklace that hung right outside the stall. Taking a closer look, Nesta’s fingers held it up.

A dog tag.

Usual dog tags had the person’s full name, service number, blood type, and religion, instead this one read something entirely different.

Baby Bat | NCAF | PJ

Confusion scrawled onto Nesta’s features as she touched the custom made dog tag. NCAF was the Night Court Air Force, but nothing came to mind with PJ. Maybe it was their unit? But who was Baby Bat? Her teeth bit her bottom lip as she recalled hearing that Rhysand and Azriel served in the NCAF with Cassian, could this be one of theirs?

But as Nesta looked up she noticed another silver dog tag at a different stall. How did I not notice these before? This one read as:

Bat Jazz | NCAF | PJ

Apparently they were fond of bats in this family..Nesta rolled her eyes as she looked back up, noticing four more tags across different stalls. She tilted her head, thinking.

There’s six tags in here, but the photo in Cassian’s office, including him there was seven. Rhysand and Azriel were not in that photo either. Nesta thought to herself as she tried to piece together a puzzle with half the box missing.

“Hey Nesta.” A voice said behind her.

Nesta immediately jumped up, shock and fear twirling around her spine as she spun around to face the person.

“What the fuck..oh..Azriel..what are you doing?” Her gaze traveled from his face to his hands full carrying a western saddle. The color was a rich dark brown, almost black with the horn at a normal height.

“Not much, just polished my saddle for Singer.” She blinked. It was the first time she saw either of the Valyrian brothers hold horse tack.

“Do you compete?” Nesta nodded to the saddle. “Yes’em.” A draw flowed from his voice. “'You ever learned to ride western?” Nesta snorted. “Of course I did. Just because my focus was on English equestrian didn’t mean I didn’t branch out of it every once in a while.”

She leaned against the stall door. “What do you compete in?” Azriel shrugged. “I do a little of everything at the rodeos. Although I focus mainly on bull riding.”

“You bull ride?” Her jaw dropped, just a fraction. “Sure do. Windhaven is small enough that my record is impressive.” “Which is what, three seconds?”

“Ten seconds actually.”

From what she knew about bull riding, which wasn’t a lot, it was extremely impressive. Her gaze traveled up and down Azriel noting the muscles she never really noticed before in his shoulders and arms. They weren't as thick as Cassian’s but Nesta could tell the muscles were strong. A slight pink dusted on her cheeks as Azriel caught her stare but moved past her, heading to the tack room before returning.

“Who’s Baby Bat?” Nesta asked, pointing to the dog tag. Azriel stopped in his tracks. “A friend of the family.” His tone was melancholic. It seemed that he stared off in the distance, almost looking right through her. Nesta held her tongue, not wanting to take a deep dive today.

“Thank you for today, helping with Gwyn and all.” Nesta commented, changing the subject. At the drop of the ginger’s name, Azriel regained his focus at Nesta. “I should be thanking you actually. I worked with her when she came here last and I generally thought it was normal nerves, but something was off. And my mother raised me to be a respectful gentleman, so I didn’t push.”

“Weren’t you raised by Rhys’ mother?” Nesta asked. He shook his head. “A story for another time.” They stood in silence as they ventured off into awkward territory if neither of them spoke or did something.

“How long have you been into her? Gwyn I mean.”

Azriel startled. “When did I say I was into Gwyn?” “I may be a recovering alcoholic, but I know the laws of attraction, Azriel.” “It’s nothing.” Azriel grumbled.

“You have this look on your face when you’re with her, you know. Growing up I would hear it all of the time by my sister. The Artist’s Gaze.” Nesta rolled her eyes. “You could stare at a work of art for hours and never bore, never stray.” “I’m assuming Feyre was the one to say this, not Elain.” Azriel replied, leaning against one of the box stalls.

Nesta’s stomach twisted. “It was actually Elain. That’s how she would describe Feyre whenever I called home to check on them.” “How do you know, Elain?” She crossed her arms at the mention of her sister. Her words from their last phone call haunted her mind.

“It’s complicated.” Azriel said, dropping his gaze. “It always is with an Archeron.” Nesta mumbled before she looked at her phone, checking the time.

“I need to head out to AA or else I’ll be late, come on.”

Tag List (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @chairofchaos @blueunoias @velarisdusk @c-e-d-dreamer @jsmelodies @inkedinshadows @wolfnesta @lilah-asteria @highqueenmorrigan @daughter-of-lethe @isnotwhatyourethinking @acourtofbatboydreams