#acowaw

[arinbelle]

A Court of Witches and Warriors

A/N: Hello!!! I know it has been so so long since I updated this fic and for anyone who is still reading it, sincere apologies. I got a bit backtracked with school and then starting other fics. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!

TW: depressive thoughts, language, self harm thoughts

Chapter 19: Nesta

~*~

Nesta had never thought of the mating bond in her life, more than she was doing in this moment.

She had gone her entire life as a Fae ignoring it. Ignoring the pull in her chest each time a tall General had walked by her in the House of Wind. Ignoring the heat of his glances and all that it caused to spark in her heart. So much thought and effort being put into ignoring that unbreakable thread between them, all for it to come down to this moment, when it was all in vain. It had to be the Mother's cruel sense of humor that all she wished now was to feel it again. Feel the resounding boom of his heartbeat echo under her own if she concentrated hard enough.

Nesta could not feel him anymore. The bond had gone eerily silent. No matter how much she fumbled and pulled and tugged on it, no matter how much she cried out his name and sobbed, it did not respond. She had no idea how long it had been since they'd been flown away from the forest, away from the still hissing, charred carcass that she'd killed for Cassian. She'd tried to spectrate them both straight away, but she'd felt the stores of her power begin to empty when she'd attacked the martax atop Cassian. By the time she'd killed it, even if she didn't want to admit it to herself, she'd known she wouldn't be using her magic for some time. So she'd suffered the flight back to Windhaven, thoroughly convinced that they were going too slowly if Cassian was supposed to survive.

Nesta had no concept of the time as she was passed from one person to another when they arrived. First it was Taliq, who stayed with her after that first flight back to Windhaven. She'd stayed silent and stiff beside him as shock and blatant disbelief had coursed trough her, and she'd replayed the events that had just transpired over and over. Taliq had hung one arm around her limply, as if he didn't trust her not to fall into herself, but also didn't know if touching her would cause her to react badly. Cilla had come in afterwards, switching out with Taliq to sit with Nesta as they waited for the healers to help Cassian. Cilla had taken one look at Nesta and that was all that she had needed to shatter the lid she'd kept on her control. She'd broken down into great heaving sobs in a way that she hadn't let herself do even for her father. 

They'd constricted her chest on their way out, and she'd gasped for air with each lungful she'd taken, only to scream it out with all the rage and pain she was feeling too much of. On and on she'd sobbed on Cilla's shoulder, and through it all, her friend had remained steadfast and unwavering. When a healer had come out to tell the girls to leave, Cilla had fixed her with a stare fit for a criminal while Nesta had hiccupped raggedly beside her. And that had been that. Emerie had come in soon after, warding off any other busybodies and bothering warriors with a glare that even Nesta thought twice about disregarding.

It wasn't long before Rhysand had appeared, stricken and pale, in a way that she hadn't seen the High Lord, save for the time on the battlefield when Cassian had taken a sword to his front. When Azriel had held the torn muscle and guts that were hanging out, blood scattering on his leathers and the ground as they'd dragged him to a healer's tent, Nesta had watched transfixed with horror. Even then, just as it was now, there was nothing she could do. Nesta had caught bits and pieces of traveling conversations, figuring out that while the healers here were trying their best, the range of injuries Cassian had would not be fully healed in Windhaven. He needed to be treated by Majda in Velaris if he wanted to wake up again, hence Rhysand's appearance.

Nesta did not speak to Rhysand when he returned to winnow her to Velaris, after dropping off Cassian first. Emerie and Cilla had stood when he'd approached, helping her to stand and putting her cold, clammy hand into his strong grip. Had Nesta not been reeling and in fear of what may happen to Cassian, she never would have agreed to go back to the city that had done her so horribly wrong- the city that she'd done so horribly wrong in.

Back to the city her sister had thrown her out of.

But this was not a matter worth thinking through. Where Cassian was, Nesta would go.

Emerie and Cilla accompanied her through the brutal winnow that she'd never quite gotten used to. They sat with her in the large hall of the new house that Rhysand had bought for her sister. No one came to see her as she sat and waited for news. Not Feyre. Not Elain. Not Azriel. And most definitely not Amren.

They sat in tomblike silence as Nesta stared out of the large window to her left. Baby blue in the sky seeped into the greens of the land below it and with time, blue faded to pink. Pink faded to red and soon a sunset took over the horizon. Nesta watched it drift down slowly until the sky became a vibrant hue of purple, faintly hinting at clandestine stars glittering and poking through to be seen.

Night bled to day and day bled to afternoon and all through it, Nesta sat and watched listlessly out the window, unsure of what to do with herself. News finally came from Azriel unexpectedly, not soon after Emerie had softly urged Nesta to eat and rest a little, both of which she'd refused.

Nesta nearly fell over rising to meet Azriel halfway and the Shadowsinger had to reach out to steady her or else they definitely would have collided. She didn't care. 

"How is he?," she pleaded. Her voice was rough and cracking through its sounds but she didn't care about that either. Nothing mattered except Cassian and his life and the fact that she had no idea if he would survive.

Azriel's face answered her question before he did. A grim, tight expression haunted his usually stoic features and Nesta was seized with a sudden uncontrollable urge to wail and weep all over again. She'd reigned in the tears since coming to the palace in Velaris, convincing herself that she'd cried herself out while waiting in the healers' tent in Windhaven. But all that ceased to matter as Azriel opened his mouth and uttered the damning words she'd been so fearful to hear. 

"It's bad. Really bad. You'd better come."

Cilla and Emerie had not followed suit, leaving her to be led along the darkening corridor by Azriel, whose shadows licked and leapt back and forth against his skin and the air around. One of them coiled around her hand as a mother would to a child and pulled her softly but swiftly behind. Nesta did not resist them.

The room felt like ice had been scattered through the air, invisible and cutting through her skin with every further step she took inwards. So cold that she could see her breath puff out in a cloud in front of her. She turned to Azriel behind her, ignoring her sisters and everyone else in the room that she didn't care to acknowledge.

Her voice was bordering on shrieking as panic overtook her. "Why is it so cold? He needs warmth. He's been hurt. Why did-"

Majda stopped her with a cluck of her tongue. "It's the fever, child." Nesta stared stupefied as the old Fae walked away from the bed, where she could see a pair of wings peaking out from some sheets over the top of some bodily form. She stopped in front of her, and craned up to look at Nesta, rueful contemplation of her face. "He was bitten by the martax and I believe the venom has spread to most of his body. He may or may not survive it. We just have to wait and see." Then, before Nesta could start unleashing her rage on the innocent healer, the crone muttered an apology and left the room.

Nesta did not move right away and no one prompted her to either. But slowly, her limbs thawed, her stiff joints cracked when moved, and she crept closer to the bed. Satin sheets adorned the bed and stupidly enough, they were black as Death. Nesta thought that to be a horrible decision on the part of whoever had chosen this particular bed to deposit Cassian into, especially when they'd brought him here to be healed. Either that or it was an omniscient omen signaling to a grim end.

Cassian's brow had sweat beaded up along its curve, and Nesta soothed her fingers across, wiping it away. She had never seen his face so devoid of color. Of warmth. It was so unlike him she felt as if she were staring at a puppet. A crude imitation that had been propped up for show to keep her from becoming a hysterical mess. Because the alternative...that this was Cassian, her Cassian, was a vengeful nightmare.

It was a nightmare to lay her hand across his cheek and to not have him turn into the curve of her palm and kiss it fondly. A nightmare to see his parched lips and pallid skin and not have someone leap out and reassure her that it was all actually a bad joke. Cassian would just open his eyes, hazel would mix with the Faelights above and turn to amber, and he would flash her his beautiful smile that made everything in the world seem alright.

It seemed to be eons until someone came up behind Nesta and asked to take her out. Usher her away from him for something as trivial as food and sleep. She wanted to fight. She would fight, but something in their tone seemed just as pleading as hers had been when she'd asked Azriel about Cassian's status. It forced her to shuffle backwards and take the hand that wound through her own, pulling her out of the room like the ghost of a lover she'd never had the proper chance to be for him.

The hand finally let her go when she ended up in a bathing room of some kind. Pushed her to the side while whoever it was attached to bustled around her, turning on gushing waters that flooded into a too large basin beside her.

Somewhere in her grief clouded mind, Nesta registered that it was Feyre. Feyre her sister. Feyre who had been through hell and back for her. For her people. Who would easily do it all again if she had to. At the time, Nesta hadn't understood it, so blinded by her rage at her father's cowardice. But she could see it now. That yearning to love and be loved. The internal push that came in when needed.

Nesta would do anything, anything, to switch places with Cassian. Hell, she would easily accept Death's icy embrace right that moment if it meant Cassian would not have to. 

It should have bothered her to be treated like a child, undressed like one and led into a tub completely naked as a grown woman, with her adult sister helping her in. But it did not.

Nesta let her sister wet her hair with the warm water and pour all sorts of sweet smelling concoctions into it. She let her wash her back and her arms and legs like a limpid, useless doll. It was only when all that was left was the space between her legs and under her breasts that Nesta took the washcloth and Feyre left her be. Her sister hurried out of the room and began doing something in the adjoining room while Nesta quickly finished washing up.

One part of her, a deep, dark part of her wanted to stay in the bathwater that was up to her neck, and just let herself fall under it. If Cassian didn't make it, there was really no alternative she saw herself living through anyways. But then, Feyre called out to her, telling her the towels were behind her and to hurry out of the water unless she wanted to get sick.

So she did as she was told by her youngest sister's mothering, drying herself methodically and then donning the spare nightgown that had been left for her on a chaise nearby.

Feyre was waiting expectantly for her on the bed. Not smiling but...not scowling either. There was a calmness to her, one that Nesta rarely remembered ever seeing when in Nesta's presence. 

Feyre combed Nesta’s hair with an ease that she hadn’t attributed to her youngest sister before. After all, it had been Nesta that used to do their hair for them. Readying them for the day after their mother had died and all the nursemaids had been let go to keep some of the wealth intact. Not that Nesta or her sisters had been told about that truth- not until it was far too late to save themselves.

“Sleep right after, alright?” Feyre began combing through her wet hair. Then braiding it, keeping the plait loose at the base of her head and moving the strands carefully over each other.

Nesta did not say anything at first. She didn’t trust her voice to not betray her and subvert words for cries instead. She didn’t think she could handle the shame.

It had been one thing for her to let loose that first spell of tears with Cilla and Emerie. They had seen her at her very lowest, her absolute worst, and still they had kept her. Treasured her as a friend and never held her earlier lack of friendliness against her.

To lose her control in front of Feyre would be both damning and upsetting. The cruel sister who had not shed one tear when her youngest sibling had been practically stolen away by a Fae beast, only to be reduced to a weeping mess for a male she hadn’t even known as long.

At least, that was how Feyre would see it, she was sure.

Movement from behind her shook Nesta out of her thoughts, and Feyre slipped off of the canopy bed with ease. Nesta had realized that the room was meant to be hers in this new palace Feyre had created a home of a year ago. It was surprisingly filled with light colors that she knew would look wonderful in the daylight. So, at odds with the theme of Night Court black and all things dark that the inner circle and her sister usually seemed to sport. Nesta found that in another life, in another Nesta, she would have loved it.

“Do you like it? I made it just how your room used to be back when we were children.”

Yes. That was the small detail that Nesta hadn’t been able to quite pinpoint. It was the same colors, the same satiny type sheets overlaid on a lovely blanket that was the same color of pomegranates. Nesta had been obsessed with the color as a young girl although as she’d gotten older, her mother had forced her to care for darker more toned-down colors. Only Elain had remained virtuous and loyal to her various shades of pinks and lilacs, always suited to her fairer complexion and rosy cheeks.

“I like it,” she finally admitted, trying to please Feyre for all the hard work she’d put into a room that had barely been used. It was hardly the compliment she deserved, but Nesta didn’t want to talk about the rooms or the paint or how there was a growing fissure between the two of them since she’d been kicked out of this city. The only thing, the only person on her mind was Cassian, and there was no way she could bring him up without losing herself.

Feyre nodded tightly and made to turn around, leaving her to sleep, even though Nesta had no intention of sleeping this night either. Something jolted Feyre though, and she turned back to look at her. Nesta went still.

“If you like it enough, you can stay here now. If you don’t want to go back to the House of Wind that is.” Feyre shot her a small smile but it seemed forced. As if she was afraid of what Nesta would say.

But Nesta didn’t know what to say, since she hadn’t expected Feyre to want anything to do with her.

“You mean, live in Velaris again?”

Feyre nodded mutely, a short but effective movement. She meant what she had said. In any other circumstance, a part of Nesta would have rejoiced at the fact that in the end, her sister did want her in her life after all.

"It's your home. Or, it could be," Feyre supplied eagerly. "It won't be like before Nesta. You, we...I will not fail you again. It will be different this time." Feyre had joined her back on the bed, hanging off the side, awaiting a response. When Nesta still did not speak, she added resolutely, "I want you to come home."

Nesta couldn't stomach it anymore.

"This is not my home Feyre." She tried to keep her voice soft even as the blow landed on Feyre and her face fell. She tried again. "No, I mean...I appreciate what you're saying. I do. And if things were different, I would want to try living here again. But this city, your city, is not mine. I don't think it was ever meant to be, but now I know more than ever that it isn't."

Feyre's eyes began to well up with tears and before Nesta could try to soothe her, Feyre spoke in a hushed tone. "I never meant for you to feel unwelcome here. I thought that the time away from Velaris and up in the mountains would do you good. I didn't mean for you to feel that you do not have a place here." Feyre reached out to grasp one of Nesta's hands and the heat and the comfort coming from it had Nesta allowing it. She repeated her words again."You have a home-"

"This is not my home," Nesta interrupted coldly. "My home..."

Nesta's throat closed up and a well of emotion burst forth, and even with clenched teeth and a brutal iron will, it did not stop the sobs that began pouring out of her. 

"My home is lying unconscious in a sick bed while we sit and wait for him to die. And there is nothing to do about it. I can't do any-any..." Nesta could not finish her sentence. Not as deep, burdening cries wracked her frame and she could barely catch a breath in between. But she had to get this out. Get it off of her chest before it ruined her from within. 

"I can't think about it. What I'm going to do if I lose him. What do I do, Feyre? I have nothing left then." Feyre placed a trembling hand hand on Nesta's knee, shock and anguish permeating her face. But she did not stop Nesta's tears nor her confessions. After all, who else had stayed around to listen to either besides her.

Maybe it was hours later or maybe only a few minutes had passed by, but eventually, just as before, Nesta did not have the strength left to continue on crying.

"There was so much I wanted to tell him. So much I wanted...to experience with him. And now-" Her voice broke and Nesta forced herself to stop talking as exhaustion took over the sorrow.

Feyre had soothed her with soft strokes on her hair, her back. But it was foreign and uneasy for her, just as it was strange for Nesta to experience it. They had never been the sort to be affectionate with each other. Even now, Nesta knew that Feyre only showed that much adoration to her mate, reserving physical comfort for rarer occasions. It was unlike either of them considering they'd been raised in an opulent home with everything a person could want for except heart and warmth.

Cassian was the complete opposite, showering on his love to any who would take it, like a monsoon onto a barren desert. He did not care who deserved what or if he was given it back. Cassian just gave wholeheartedly.

Feyre sniffled and hastily wiped away a few silently shed tears. "I understand you know. I know you think we are so different, but I know how you feel. I..." Feyre tightened her hands to fists in her lap. "When Rhys died, when...I lost him, even though it was a matter of minutes long, I think I felt my soul splinter in half. I had lost one of my best friends, someone who I thought I would have lifetimes with. All in a split second, everything had gone wrong." Feyre looked up, the pain of the memory still etched on her face. Nesta had not been there for Rhys's death and eventual resurrection, but had heard about it later from Amren. Then a few jokes from Rhysand himself that Feyre had glared at during the few dinners she'd had with the rest of them. And even from Cassian himself in passing.

But never had Feyre spoken to her of that moment, when she'd lost Rhysand and, from what Nesta had been told, had screamed and shrieked with so much misery, no one had been able to do anything but stare on in horror. 

"So, I understand," Feyre supplied again.

"You do not," Nesta whispered. "He was your mate. It is different."

"And Cassian is not yours?," Feyre remarked sharply.

Nesta locked eyes with her sister, prepared for the fight that was inevitably about to come. So Nesta ceded first before it could come to verbal blows.

"I know I'm not good enough for him. You don't need to tell at me about that. And I'm not leading him on either. But he is not my mate."

Feyre breathed in sharply. "I never said that."

"But you thought it," Nesta reminded viciously.

Feyre shook her head. "No. Never. I know you've had your reservations about all this." She gestured vaguely in the air between them and Nesta wondered if she meant being Fae, being here, or everything else. Because for Nesta, she'd been put off by all of it. "But you are allowed a choice with this. Always. Has Cassian brought it up to you?"

Nesta turned her head. The briefest of denials. No, Cassian had never brought up that thread tied between them, blessed by the Cauldron supposedly, and cursed according to Nesta. But it had always been there, teetering between them, always on the edge of being formed fully until one of them pulled back and let it drown back under the surface of their souls.

"He didn't want to pressure you. He told me. I...," Feyre gave a sheepish, apologetic smile. "I may or may not have cornered him about it. I think it was after Solstice and you two had fought."

Right. That night she'd refused his gift and he'd thrown it into the Sidra. She still hadn't plucked up the courage to ask him what it was. Still hadn't given him the present she'd picked out from the Solstice they'd had in Windhaven. She had awkwardly ignored the one he'd placed on her bed a few weeks after. It had lain unopened on the pillow for days, as she'd stared at it while she dressed, never sleeping on the bed since she'd begun to share Cassian's. Eventually she'd finally grown tired of the guilt and shoved it away into a drawer that she hadn't looked into since.

"Anyways, I always wondered, so I just asked him outright. He told me he'd felt the bond between you two, but that he didn't want to scare you away, so he was holding off on bringing it up." Feyre hesitated then, as if she'd realized she'd overshared. "When did you know?"

About the bond, was what remained unspoken.

Nesta swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. From the guilt. "Too long," she confessed. "Why didn't you ask me first instead of Cassian?"

Perhaps Nesta was in the mood to punish herself, because she knew what the answer would be. 

Feyre's face went cold. "You never wanted to talk to me after the war."

After Father had died.

"You would have bitten my head off if I tried. And I did try Nesta. You know I did."

She had. Nesta had shut down any comments about Cassian anytime she ran into her sister while she'd stayed in the downtrodden part of Velaris. She had relished in pushing away any thoughts of him, shutting down any rumors or questions anyone had about him, and her, and them. Now she couldn't help but wish it had all gone differently.

"I'm sorry. About Rhys," Feyre added unexpectedly. "He's just..."

Rude. Protective. An asshole.

Feyre shot her a wry grin. "Only sometimes an asshole. He's really sweet deep down."

Nesta glared. "Don't go in my head."

"I didn't," she snapped. "Your thoughts were loud and I had my shields down."

So had Nesta apparently, as she realized the iron wrought chains around her mental fortress had been down the moment from the Cassian had fallen. She hastily rebuilt them as she suspected Feyre was doing the same.

"He was right," Nesta admitted reluctantly. "I did all that he accused me at that dinner. You don't need to apologize for him."

Feyre sighed tiredly. "He was not right to say it, and not like that." Feyre tucked a stray hair behind her ears, so unlike her usual confident and assured self, that Nesta felt a sudden urge to comfort her instead of what was actually happening. "I do not hold it against you Nesta. I did, for a long time, I'll admit. But, we were children. You were a child. I cannot hold you to what you did not do as a child when it was never your responsibility to do so. It was Father's. I can accept that now."

So she had made her peace with the man that had failed them so many times for so long, until the very absolute end, when it had mattered so much that he'd lost his life.

Nesta did not feel the fear or the shame she thought she would have when she admitted to Feyre the truth in her heart. A truth she'd struggled with for a long time. "I was not right to treat you as I did though. My pain and my anger at Father was not an excuse to throw it onto you. For that, I am sorry."

But she would not apologize for not doing her father's job. Never that. Perhaps she would go to Hell for it, but it was all she had of herself in that moment. That stubborn rage that had not failed her yet.

Feyre nodded. "And I am sorry if I made you feel as if you did not have a place in my life. And for not being there for you after the war. The Mother knows I wanted to be but..."

I know. It's alright, she sent the message to Feyre through her mind, hoping Feyre would receive it. 

Her smile, small but sure, was answer enough.

Nesta slept sometime in between the space in which Feyre left her, to when she woke her up to eat. It was a bit of stew and some bread, most of which she refused because it would not go down. But for Feyre's sake, the pleading expression in her eyes, she managed to fight and push down some bites. It was enough for her to be left alone. Feyre had told her that Cilla and Emerie had gone home temporarily but that they intended to return for Nesta's sake.

After no news came and Nesta had slept again for what felt like too long, she went down the stairs herself, following the scent she'd memorized at this point of pine and mountain snow, until she was with Cassian again.

Rhysand sat in a chair beside him, haggard and disheveled. It was the longest she'd ever seen the High Lord in anything but immaculate clothes and an unruffled appearance. He did not acknowledge her as she entered and neared the bed where Cassian still lay prone and unconscious.

If Nesta ignored all the horror of the past few days, she could pretend that he was only sleeping, and within a few hours time, would wake up, flash her a grin, and call her all the stupid nicknames that she'd huffed and snorted at. 

"Has Majda said anything about how he is doing?"

Will he live? Will he wake up? Is it too late?

Rhysand did not answer her immediately, perhaps thinking it fair that she suffer for a while. Or perhaps he was sparing her news that could break her.

"She said she doesn't know. He was bitten in many areas and she is assuming that it was a female martax that bit him." Nesta stared at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. "Because their venom is more noxious," he revealed after a moment of strained silence. As if that was the perfect explanation for why she could barely hear his heart beating and didn't know if she'd ever look into his beautiful eyes again.

"Isn't she supposed to be the best healer you have?" It shouldn't have come off so critically, but Nesta's patience had always run thin with Rhysand. It didn't help matters when Cassian's life was in the balance.

Rhysand responded exactly as she'd expected. Just as cutting and just as cruel. "Why do you care?," he accused, launching up from his chair, wings flaring outwards in irritation. "You never gave a shit about him anyways. Why are you even here?"

Nesta, to her credit, did not rise to the bait. She only leveled Rhysand with an expression she'd picked up from Delani each time Taliq said something silly and Cilla was ready to be up in arms over it. It was effective. 

Rhsyand, inch by inch, retracted the wings in, retracted the claws and his grimace too. When he flopped back into his seat, he waved his hand carelessly and suddenly another chair appeared directly behind her. 

He did not motion for her to sit and Nesta did not thank him when she did. 

"I thought your entire spiel is that you give a choice where other males do not." Cutting him with a glare, Nesta leaned backwards before saying anymore, noting his already bothered face. "Why is it that you hate me so much for not wanting to accept Cassian's advances? Not wanting any of your family's actions to bring me into your happy circle. I thought it was a choice."

Rhysand glared back and she knew he was itching to bite back. But what to say? She was right in calling out his hypocrisy and they both knew it.

They sat in silence, not altogether unpleasant, as the sun set and the room became painted in a glowing red that reminded Nesta of Cassian's siphons.

"You are not mated." It was an observation spoken in hushed contemplation in a slowly darkening room. 

Nesta couldn't help but scoff. "Why is everyone so obsessed with whether or not I am mated? I didn't realize it affected you at all." Nesta did not point out that they hadn't specified who she was or was not mated to. She supposed, at this point, it didn't really matter.

"I can tell that there is a difference in your scents, but it's not a mating bond. Not really," Rhysand admitted.

Yes, that would make sense. Her and Cassian had shared a bed for months now. They'd been at each other's throats with need and lust every time the opportunity presented itself- which often ended up being every night and multiple times through the day. If she didn't know better, and she did, she would have suspected it was a mating bond's frenzy, as she'd heard of once in passing from Feyre. It would make sense that Rhysand and likely everyone could note the change in their scents, but Nesta was not about to admit out loud her and Cassian's bedroom habits.

"Again, why does it matter to you?"

"Because after that dinner at your house, Cassian came back to Velaris."

He had? She had assumed that he had simply gone back to sleep in their room when she'd refused his comfort. "And he fought with me about how I acted with you. I've never had him talk to me like that. And it was all for you."

Nesta scoffed. "So you didn't like being challenged? Poor High Lord who everyone else dies to please didn't like being yelled at?"

"Because I hurt my brother in a way that I've never done before and the last thing I said to him was..." Rhysand cut himself off. Took a breath. "Not kind words. Horrible words. I can't bear it if that was the last thing I said to him."

Nesta had not been kind either. Perhaps they had joked and dropped into old routines, where Nesta ignored everything that was upsetting her, in the brief moments they'd had together before the martax had attacked them. But she had pushed him and his concern away, practically spitting with venom when he'd made her leave the house with him.

Nesta pushed back a stray strand of hair on Cassian's forehead, stroking softly as she often used to through the night when Cassian woke up screaming with nightmares, and could fall asleep no other way.

"I could not bear it either," she admitted softly, more to herself than anyone else.

Rhysand stared at her curiously as she retracted her hand back to her lap, the feel of Cassian's hair permanently ingrained into her skin just as every other facet of him already had been. She did not offer him any explanation as she settled back into her seat.

No, they had not paraded their relationship with grand declarations to anyone in Velaris. Not even in Windhaven. Everyone around them had simply just...come to accept that it had happened. But, she supposed, Rhysand and his family would not be aware of it. Cassian had never flaunted her, as he was unlike most, and understood her need for privacy.

Eventually, Morrigan came into the room and quietly told Rhysand about some court matter that Nesta did not bother to pay attention to. Rhysand had nodded stiffly and made to follow the blonde Fae who had not so much as spared a glance to Nesta since her arrival. Nesta didn't care for any of that. But she wondered how she was faring. She knew of Cassian and Mor and Azriel's complicated history, and Cassian had all but confirmed that there was no romance between him and the female who was more a sister. But she was still his family. And one member in a family hurt, everyone hurt with them. 

As he reached the entrance of the door, Nesta heard Rhysand stop, and murmur to Morrigan to go on without him. That he would join her later.

He cleared his throat, and while Nesta had no interest in starting another round of verbal sparring with him, she inclined her head enough to look at him.

"I spoke to Feyre," he announced. As if that was a grand explanation and all the information she needed to know. She quirked her brows without thinking, letting her irritation be known. "I apologize in advance if you think I am out of bounds or that she should not have told me any of this. But...Feyre and I tend to share everything with each other."

And I bet you also braid each other's hair and gossip through the night.

Rhysand winked. Most definitely.

Perhaps Rhysand thought it was invitation that she hadn't pushed him out yet, but he continued speaking mind to mind with her then.

I know you think that you are not good enough for my brother. 

Nesta straightened her spine at that. At all that Feyre had revealed to Rhysand from a conversation in confidence. But she did not explode even though instinct had her rearing up and ready to.

"I think I may be to blame for that. And for how the rest of my family reacted to you then as well." Rhysand swallowed, as if physically pushing his pride down to get the words out. "Feyre and Cassian...they are not like us Nesta. You and I are guarded. We don't just let people in. It takes time. And outside of those we deem our own, we don't let ourselves shed that armor around our minds and hearts."

Yes. Perhaps the first thing that Rhysand had ever said that she could agree with. It was irritating to admit, but they were more similar than it seemed.

He went on. "They're the best parts of us, I think you'll agree. The light to our dark." She did agree. "And when I met Feyre, when I knew who she was to me, there was so much I wanted to tell her and have with her that I held back from. Some of it was Tamlin, I'll admit. And how he'd broken some of her spirit." 

Nesta clenched her teeth at the reminder of the other High Lord that had captured Feyre, gotten her killed, and then kept her prisoner against her will when she had changed her mind about him. 

Rhysand became somber then. "But there's always been a part of me that knows she could do better than me too. That she is too good for me and that I do not deserve her." Nesta gave him her full attention then. "And when I found out we were mates, at first I was sure that it was a mistake."

Nesta understood that. She did not know if Cassian knew that was why she'd kept herself away from him for so long. Someone like Cassian would never deserve someone as horrible as Nesta. As wretched as her. 

"The thing that I've learned though, and I think you should now too," Rhysand went on, "is that the bond doesn't care about all that. Not about what you did in the past or what you should have. It just...chooses." 

And it chose wrong, she thought inwardly. But she stayed silent.

"You will never feel like you deserve him," Rhysand declared, and if it wasn't the same thought she'd had every day, she wouldn't have bared her teeth so viciously.

"I do not feel like I deserve your sister," he admitted without any hesitance, much to her surprise. "But that doesn't change anything for them. Maybe we don't deserve them. Maybe we do. We'll never know. All we have is now and each other and I didn't die and come back just to waste my life in self-pity and fear. And you shouldn't either."

Nesta stared at Rhysand, realizing this was the most they'd ever spoken to each other ever. It was a strange sort of understanding shared between them. The overlap in their lives over the same people they loved, even with how much they themselves clashed. 

Rhysand left after his confessions and tidbits of advice that she hadn't asked for. All of it had left her feeling more lost and empty than before. Perhaps he was right. But Nesta was too tired to sort through all her thoughts and she was also too worried about Cassian currently to think about Cassian in her future. 

Cassian as her mate. 

It was a terrifying thought. So much more at stake and all the ways in which she'd let him down...

No. She wouldn't think that far ahead right now. All she wanted to think of at the moment was Cassian getting better. 

"Please," she whispered into Cassian's barely rising chest. "Come back to me. You are...you are all I have." Nesta let the tears roll down her cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away as she began weeping again. "You promised me time. Give us that time. Come back and we'll have it, Cassian. Please."

Cassian, who had never once shied away from her, who had never failed to rise to her taunts or tease her questions, who had been unwavering and present and hers, did not respond.

~*~

Taglist: @amaranthas-whore  @angelic-voice-1997 @arielle-reads @awesomelena555 @bookstantrash   @champanheandluxxury  @confusedfandomslut   @d0riansgray  @duskandstarlight   @generalnesta   @imagine-me    @inardour   @iwastoowildinthe70s   @karmasworlds   @live-the-fangirl-life    @mis-lil-red  @moodymelanist    @nahthanks  @nessiantrash  @oversizedbats   @perseusannabeth  @readingismyonlyhobby  @rowaelinismyotp   @sayosdreams   @simpingfornestaarcheron    @starryblueskies7   @starksravings   @story-scribbler   @sv0430   @swankii-art-teacher   @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter   @vanzetanze @vasudharaghavan @vidalinav    @wannawriteyouabook  @wishfulimaginings  @tinasbookishlife

[iamnesta]

y'all im working on A Court of Witchcraft and Wizardry (acowaw?) and I’m on a scene with some Nessian ayyyy

[arinbelle]

A Court of Witches and Warriors

Notes: This took FOREVER. And for the 3 people that are still reading this fic, I'm so sorry it took so long. But I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: swearing, depictions of violence

~*~

Chapter 18- Cassian

Cassian had been in dangerous situations many times in his life. Becoming the Commander of the Night Court’s armies for centuries had made that an innate part of the job description.

Never once had he hesitated to throw himself onto the path of danger. It wasn’t in him to do so.

The only time he’d ever felt fear like this was when he had been hurt, wings and bones broken, lying uselessly on a battlefield while death came for him. Not for himself, but for the female who’d lain her body across him like a shield.

He’d wanted her to go then. Run. But she had refused. He’d laid his heart out for her in that moment, a foolish, lovesick confession that he’d regretted every day since. Every rebuke and push that Nesta had given him afterwards had made him doubt if he ever should have admitted anything at all to her in those final, fateful seconds.

But in that moment…

It had been worth it.

Then Elain had saved them, and Nesta, to his relief, had survived. But that quick save would end up being useless in a matter of seconds yet again, because here he was, in a position of weakness all over again. And unless Nesta ran, they’d be repeating history with a more deadly outcome than the last time.

“Nesta,” he breathed out. Careful not to make any sudden movements that the martax would see, he slowly adjusted himself and her placement behind him. One hand was already outstretched in front of him, sword ready to fight. His spare, now resting on Nesta’s behind him. He gave her hand one final squeeze before letting go. It was all he was going to be able to give her before they parted.

The martax stopped in their movements, sniffing the air. Cassian had already scented it. Even before the monsters had appeared before them.

Children. Likely playing near their village boundary, completely unaware of how close they were to danger.

Nesta grabbed the hand he’d pulled from hers. “I’m going to spectrate us away Cassian. Hold on to-“

A sharp peal of laughter sounded from the east, met with equally loud chuckles and yells. Nesta gasped and it was all he could do to not mirror the movement in order to keep his eyes ahead.

“I can’t go. The younglings are playing too close. If we can hear them, they already have.”

Indeed, as if to confirm what he’d feared all along, one of the three martax broke off from the trio and began to make its way to the underbrush on the left. Another sound of laughter rebounded around them.

They were getting too close, Cassian realized, ice lining his gut. He’d do anything to save those children.

Save Nesta too. It was the only clear thought in Cassian’s mind amongst the near blinding panic.

“Cassian,” Nesta tried again.

“I can’t,” he whispered back, turning his head just a fraction to take in her fear-stricken face. She was pale enough that he worried she may faint. But he didn’t have time to worry about that anymore. “I need you to run. Spectrate to those children, get them far away. Then go back to Windhaven and tell the other warriors to come here. Do not come back here Nesta. You’re not trained enough to-“

“No!,” she breathed. “No, I won’t leave you here. They’ll kill you.”

“As opposed to you, me and those children dying together?,” he snapped.

He shouldn’t have raised his voice, because the middle martax, the leader Cassian assumed, narrowed his focus onto them again. It took a large step towards them, its maw already opening in anticipation for the meal it knew it would get soon. Cassian took a step back, Nesta moving in turn with him.

It didn’t matter. The martax took another step, growling a sound so horrific, Cassian’s very bones grew brittle. It wasn’t a sound that belonged on the land. Nor any waters or skies. It was the sound of Hell, true Hell, and it was headed straight for Cassian.

Cassian turned again to look at Nesta, staring back at him with horror mirroring his own. Horror and fear and something more. Something deeper. Something neither of them had bothered to say, or even acknowledge. Even with how far they’d come, how they had become friends, lovers, and on the brink of something more- they’d never said the words.

“I-“

He stopped her. Knew that if he heard the words, whatever she may or may not be admitting, he’d leave with her then and there, consequences be damned.

“I know,” he said. He lifted his hand to her face, stroking her cheekbone, hoping his expression would tell her everything he’d left unsaid between them. Everything he should have told her a long time ago.

“I know,” he reassured her again.

Tears began to form in Nesta’s waterline but they didn’t fall. She didn’t let them fall. Grasping the hand he’d left on her face, she pressed a kiss to the tips of his fingers in a silent goodbye. Cassian swore he felt something akin to devastation splinter through him as she took that first step away from him. But he wouldn’t stop her.

Not if it meant she survived.

Giving her one final look before he met his end, he committed her face to memory. The only female he’d ever loved. The only equal he’d found in five centuries of living. His love.

Cassian prayed silently to whatever Gods still existed, and turned to face the beasts again.

 ~*~

Nesta was fast, to both his relief and fear. Relief because the children, he could hear, had been whooshed away in Nesta’s magic and taken far enough away from the danger. Fear because now that danger was solely focused on him.

At the very least, he would hold the beasts off long enough for the other warriors to join him. He’d likely be dead by the time Nesta got the message to the patrols and they flew over, but still, the village nearby would be saved.

Cassian lunged as the first martax reached him, slashing his sword across it’s nose. The scent of acrid blood rose into the humid air and Cassian fought off a gag as he twisted to land another blow, this time across its chest. Black blood poured out from the wound but to his horror, it seemed to only enrage the beast further, not hamper it.

Cassian ran then, hoping to lead them away from the village’s edge in case more people were around. He could fly away. Nesta was safe. The children were safe. But he would be leaving the martax alive and able to kill anyone that came across them, which, was very likely in this area.

Centuries of battle training kicked in as his feet slammed against the ground, the world shaking underneath his feet as the martax took chase behind him. 

He knew what he needed to do. 

A brief glimmer of regret bolted through him, as he realized this was going to be his end. He hadn’t had his goodbye with Nesta-not a proper one. He’d wanted to tell her so much, confess so much. Now it was all ruined. Adrenaline pushed those thoughts away and Cassian pushed harder, veering abruptly east towards open plains, just to lead the beasts further away.

As he passed through the clearing of the underbrush, Cassian took in the sight before him, panic bringing his heart to a stuttering stop. The ground shook again and a shrill shriek filled the air. Cassian couldn’t process what he was looking at. 

A dead end. 

No possible way for him to push forwards into the forest and too thick a canopy overhead for him to even fly away now. He was stuck. Trapped. And with three martax on his tail, there was no chance left. He’d hoped to at least take out one before his grisly end, but with the cramped area of his new arena, the lack of sunlight or ability to maneuver around gnarled roots under his feet, Cassian was looking at slim odds.

But he had beaten worse odds before. Had survived some of the worst conditions life had to offer. Cassian unsheathed a set of daggers from his belt instead, strapping his sword away onto his back.

He would not go without a fight.

Steeling himself for whatever would meet him in a matter of seconds, Cassian thought about Nesta. Thought about the life they may have had. How much he loved her, had wanted her, and how ready he had been to die for her a little over a year ago. He was going to die for good this time. Was never going to see her smile, her laugh that she let only him and a few friends hear. He’d never hold her in his arms again. Kiss the smirk off of her face or make love to her for hours.

At least she’s safe, a small voice said in his head. Cassian nodded inwardly. At the very least, yes, he had that reassurance of her safety.

A strange clicking sound filled the air. One that made his hair stand on end. He couldn’t pinpoint in which direction it was coming from, and that realization hit him like a closed fist.

They were circling, using the clicking as an echolocation to find him. Hunt him. Definitely scare him. And battle hardened warrior or not, Cassian was afraid.

But fear was both a balm and a poison. He’d taught it to Nesta and he’d lived by the saying himself. Using the fear wisely would keep him alive. Letting it overpower him would weaken him and kill him faster.

Cassian listened. Waited. Closed his eyes for a few seconds, scenting the changes on the wind that were happening around him.

So faint, almost nonexistent, but it was there. Cassian could hear the slightest ruffle of leaves happening to his right. And the scent from that direction was just a hint more foul than anywhere else. Slowly, he repositioned his body, tilting his waist into place, readying his throwing hand.

The martax leapt out of the foliage to his right and Cassian let his dagger fly, hitting the target perfectly between the eyes. The beast howled its fury and Cassian took a few careful steps backwards. But there was no need, because it finally fell after a few minutes of pathetic roaring, black blood still pouring from the corpse’s mouth and nostrils.

“Great. One down, two to go,” he muttered to himself, desperately wishing it was still all just a bad dream that he could wake up from. 

There was a rush of movement behind Cassian and before he could react he was pinned to the ground, the martax’s heavy body atop him. The paws on either side of Cassian’s face had their claws retracting in and out, and as the martax lowered its terrifyingly large mouth, filled with sharply glinting teeth, it was all Cassian could do to not scream.

He had his hands up at it’s neck, pushing up with the last vestiges of strength he had left, which wasn’t very much anymore.

Fear and regret and foolish anger coursed through him all at once, knowing deep down that at this point, none of it mattered. Cassian swore as he felt his arms begin to give out and as the martax reared back before he pounded down, he could scent Nesta on the air. Could practically feel her presence nearby him. 

A faint memory of Rhys telling him once during the Great War, after they’d both bled copious amounts of blood, that hallucinations were common when death was near. 

He didn’t care if he was imagining Nesta near him in his final moments. After all, he’d almost died in her arms once before too. If it should happen that way again, Cassian would go happily.

The martax opened up its jaw wider, adjusting one of its paws to holding Cassian’s chest down, and Cassian swore more teeth began popping up out of its foul looking gums. The beast let out an earsplitting screech and Cassian shut his eyes tight before he met his end.

He heard a dull thud above him and something warm and wet dropped on his face. Cassian opened his eyes hesitantly, not truly wanting to see the drool of the martax falling on him before he was eaten alive.

Except it was blood. Black, hot, vile smelling blood falling on him in great fat droplets as the martax watched him from above in a frozen state.

In a dead state, Cassian realized, as he saw there was a large sword going through one end of its large head and the pointy end coming out the other. A few seconds of shocked silence was all he was granted before a scream echoed out to his right.

Nesta’s scream.

Pushing the dead body off of him, pulling out her sword that had been rammed deep in martax brains, Cassian stood up and ran towards where he’d heard her. She had come back for him. Even after he’d thoroughly instructed her not to, she’d completely disobeyed and saved his life. Relief or anger would have to wait.

As he rounded the bend of trees from where he’d heard Nesta, he was met with a sight more chilling than what he’d just lived through.

Nesta was facing off with a martax. A nastier looking one and the largest of the once full fledged trio. She was backing up slowly, arms out in front of her with white smoke curling around her fingers. But from a quick assessment Cassian saw no burns on the martax. 

She hadn’t been able to summon it in a fight, just as he’d feared. It was all well and good in practice scenarios and at targets in Windhaven’s training grounds but in an actual fight with stakes and a life in the balance, training could sometimes be completely useless. It didn’t help Cassian at the moment to know that the life in the balance at that moment was the one he lived for.

“Nesta!,” he screamed without thinking.

It worked. The martax turned its attention to Cassian and without warning began bounding for him.

Nesta screamed something unintelligible but he could scent her fear from where he was standing. Could feel it as a palpable thing inside of him as well. Soul-crushing fear, for him, it was almost enough to make him cry with triumph. She cared.

Cassian swung his entire body low, wings tucked in tight, and slashed at the underbelly of the gigantic monster as it leapt over him.

Blood went spraying over him and Cassian spit out the foul tasting liquid with contempt as the beast howled its fury. He had the advantage here- it was injured and Cassian needed one good blow to its head or through its eyes to get it down. Then one more through the heart would do the trick. Cassian spread his feet into battle stance, readying himself for the impact as the martax began running back towards him. He saw the tightening in its haunches and knew where it would lunge again for him. Cassian pivoted slightly and-

The breath was knocked out of him as the beast rammed him from the side he'd left open. The little shit had feigned an attack and Cassian had stupidly fallen for it.

It growled, it's fangs dripping with venom that he’d learned centuries ago, could paralyze a victim for life or kill instantly depending on how much tainted the body. Cassian would pray for a quick death if nothing else.

The pain of the bite felt like fire had scorched him from the inside out. Cassian screamed as it ripped through him, already feeling the venom begin to spread from his arm and into his chest. 

Cassian could not move. He felt his chest seizing up, screaming for air like someone had clamped a vice around his neck and would never let go. It was a relentless, invisible chokehold that Cassian knew would only grant him a slow, prolonged ending. The creature pulled back, fangs lengthening further, readying to rip out Cassian’s throat.

But before death could come for him a second time, a scream came from his right. 

No.

A battle cry was more like it.

Flames of burnished silver leapt through the air and hit the martax full on. The creature roared and tried to fight it, falling off of Cassian, who could not move much more than his neck to take in the horrific sight beside him.

Even as its screams began dying down, its skin peeling off the bones and any life left becoming completely eviscerated, the fire did not let up.

Nesta did not stop her magic’s flow well until there was nothing left but a charred mess that stank of rotten meat and frostbitten wind. The air held a certain chill to it from Nesta’s fire that was more like ice than anything else.

Black spots danced in front of Cassian’s eyes, his vision zeroing in and out on the sky above him. A faint thudding pounded through the ground and shook through his bones.

Closer.

Closer. Until...

“Cassian,” came a gasp above him. He couldn’t see much anymore, save for a piercing pair of blue eyes, riddled with worry.

He tried to move his lips. Tried. to speak and tell her it was okay. But he could not say “Nesta,” save for in spirit.

A voice joined Nesta’s incoherent crying a few moments later. Cassian could make out the sound of booming wings all around him. Then...

“Nesta you have to move. We’re taking him to a healer.” Taliq’s voice was a harsh command that Cassian knew would never be heeded by Nesta if they weren’t good friends.

Cassian felt a warmth in his hand, a faint sensation of someone squeezing it, and Cassian knew in his heart who it was.

It was the last thing he felt before darkness enveloped him greedily.

Taglist:

@bookstantrash @duskandstarlight @d0riansgray  @queenestarcheron @nessiansimp @cassianscool @sjm-things @perseusannabeth  @courtofjurdan @vasudharaghavan @sayosdreams @moe8  @arielle-reads @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @nahthanks @oversizedbats @swankii-art-teacher @inardour @rowaelinismyotp @starryblueskies7 @nestaarcher0n @vidalinav @nessiantrashh @lanyjoy-13 @iwastoowildinthe70s @nessianlordandladyofillyria @ladygabrielli1997@moonlitchandeliers @vanzetanze @generalnesta @drielecarla @moodymelanist @wishfulimaginings @amaranthas-whore @simpingfornestaarcheron @generalnesta @karmasworlds @champanheandluxxury @angelic-voice-1997

@chosenfamily-valkyriequeens

[iamnesta]

ACOWAW Tag List!

Hey guys! So I recently received a comment from @bluephoenix222 about being tagged in my ACOTAR Hogwarts AU! If you would also like to be tagged in future chapters, please message me/comment on this post!!

ps. I will be updating soon, I promise!!! I’m currently working on Part Four.

[iamnesta]

Part Three of ACOWAW (that Hogwarts au) will be posted tomorrow!! There's some Elucien fluff in it, so.... get ready

[swankii-art-teacher]

Staying in Illyria... must be difficult for nesta...

A Court of Witches and Warriors

HELLO! I wrote a thing. I wrote a couple of things actually but this is the only sfw stuff that I’m not embarassed to share. This is one of my first times writing fics so..yeah. Anyways. I wanted to write a fic of basically all the random HCs I have of the plot of ACOSF. Feel free to read and leave comments-please! Yes I am aware the title is corny but it felt wrong leaving it title-less. Okay. I’ll stop now. Enjoy (hopefully)

Masterlist link here

Trigger warning: some suicidal thoughts

Tagging: @moe8

———————————————————————————————————–

Chapter 1-Nesta

The humidity- that was the first thing she noticed about Illyria. No matter how hot it got by midday or cold it got my nightfall, the incessant moisture in the air never let up. Nesta had grown up near the wall, in the northern region of the mortal lands. There it was mercilessly cold, but at least the air didn’t sit heavy on your head and lungs and make it difficult to breathe. She already found it difficult to breathe- she didn’t really need anymore of this added on. This being everything really. The camp. The exile. The queens. Him.

Keep reading

[arinbelle]

Hello hello!! I 100% just read almost all of your fics, I’m about to start ACOWAW and they’re all so amazing I love how you physically and emotionally depict Nessian and it hurts. Thank you so much for all your stories!!!

HELLO!💗💗💗

So apparently I didn't post this and it's been sitting in drafts while I thought I answered this days ago. SORRY 😣

Thank you so, so, SO much for reading and letting me know this. I am so happy you're enjoying the fics and I am VERY excited for you to start ACOWAW. It's the first large fic I ever wrote and I absolutely adore it just because it's like my lil baby fic.

And thank you for the compliment🤗🤗🤗, it means so much and really keeps me so motivated as a writer 🥰🥰

[iamnesta]

To those of you wondering about part 4 of my acotar hogwarts au: don't worry, I am writing it. I've just been in this weird, depressive slump that I 100% blame on school. Sorry, but mental health comes first!! (But I hope to have the next chapter up by next week?? We'll see.)

[swankii-art-teacher]

I'm currently revisiting this fic... at first I didn't leave comments so I'm adding them now better late than never I guess... Cassian , go f*ck those bastards up... make 'em pay

A Court of Witches and Warriors

It came to my brain in the middle of the night that I didn’t add any trigger warnings to chapter 1 so I will be fixing that- I’m so sorry about that. I know most people probably haven’t read this story anyways but it won’t be happening again. Also, all characters and plot from ACOTAR belong to SJM.

Enjoy!

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Implied sexual assault, Alcoholism, Addiction

Tag List:

@bookstantrash

@greerlunna

@queenestarcheron

@moe8

———————————————————————————————————–

Chapter 2-Cassian

She looked so lost. So at odds with the female he had come to know after she had been turned High Fae. From the moment Cassian had met Nesta, even as a human woman, he had been enraptured. She was a mystery to say the least. He’d never seen so much anger and grace in each sharp movement she had made that day she’d kneed him in the balls. Never had he come across a female with such vicious words, simply to hide the bleeding heart underneath. She reminded him of Amren- vaguely-except Amren did not love and rage and hurt and suffer as Nesta did.

Where had she gone? Where was the woman who had stood her ground against the most powerful High Lords of Prythian, back ramrod straight, practically scolding them on their selfishness as a mother would to her mischievous toddlers? He hadn’t seen that fire in her, the same one that beckoned him closer from that first day- not in months. Hell, not in a year almost.

Keep reading

[iamnesta]

Tag Game: Post the first line of your WIP

The rules are simple: Post the first line of your WIP (or a line you’re particularly proud of) without context, then tag as many people as there are words in the line - or until you run out of people to tag if it’s long! If you don’t have a WIP, share a line from your favorite book!

Thank you @lady-therion for tagging me! 💜 —————

I have already done this tag, buuuut I feel guilty about not updating A Court of Witchcraft and Wizardry, so here’s the first line of Part Three:

It was the first Hogsmeade trip of the year, and Lucien found himself sandwiched between Feyre and Elain in a booth at The Three Broomsticks.

(I am so sorry for not updating ACOWAW!! Hopefully Part Three will be posted soon?? I have major writer’s block so we’ll see.) —————

Also, I’m not gonna tag anyone, but feel free to do this tag if you want to!!

[iamnesta]

@highkey-nerd hey m8 you commented on my acowaw post and seemed p excited about it, which makes me really happy!! unfortunately, the full chapter won’t get posted tonight (i’m really tired sorry :( ) BUT here are the first couple paragraphs, so i hope you like this little teaser!! 

Azriel gripped his fork and knife a little too tightly at dinner that night. He still couldn’t believe Rhys had been so stupid. And now because of this stupidity, Rhys was stuck in detention, shoulder to shoulder with Tamlin as they polished old Quidditch trophies. Az could only imagine what kind of tense silence the two would create, their polishing growing more aggressive the longer they were in each other’s presence.

“You alright, mate?” Cassian’s voice jostled Azriel back into reality.

“Yeah,” Azriel replied with an indifferent shrug, relaxing his grasp on the silverware.

Cassian sighed heavily, stabbing sullenly at his plate. Mouth stuffed full of food, he glanced back at the Gryffindor table to where Lucien sat alone. “I know you’re worried about Rhys,” Cassian stated bluntly.

“Maybe,” Az said evasively. He ran his finger around the rim of his golden goblet, his gaze refusing to meet Cassian’s.

Giving Azriel’s arm a gentle shove, Cassian said, “It’s not your fault that Rhys decided to charge that prick like an infuriated bull.”

Azriel took a swig of pumpkin juice, thoughtful. “Yeah, but I should have been with him. I could’ve landed a few punches on Tamlin myself.”

With an amused snort and a crooked grin, Cassian admitted, “That would’ve been nice.” Then his eyebrows furrowed as he recalled the afternoon, and he asked, “Where were you, anyway?”

Suddenly very interested in his food, Azriel lifted one shoulder in apathy. “I was talking to Mor,” he said simply.

“Really?” Cassian’s hazel eyes glittered roguishly. “And how’d that go? Was there even any talking or did she throw herself at you, desperate to--”

Azriel cut his friend off with an annoyed eye roll. “We talked, Cassian. That’s it.”

Cassian looked mildly disappointed by this. “Oh.”

“Now go back to your own table,” Azriel chided, shooing Cassian away with a flourish of his hands. “Nesta might put you in detention if she sees you sitting with the Ravenclaws again.”

again, i’m so sorry there won’t be an update tonight... but definitely this week!!!! in the meantime, this girl needs her beauty sleep :)

[bookstantrash]

I’m feeling so lovely by having TWO chapters of ACOWAW on top of all the one shots you’ve posted. Girl, you’re a writing machine.

“She did not ask Cassian what he planned to do for Solstice this year, and when exactly he would leave her to be with his family in Velaris.” — NO SHIT STUPID CASSIAN DO NOT LEAVE HER DAMNIT

“He bid her a quiet farewell as he had closed the door behind him and Nesta had never felt so cold, even with the fire blazing so close to her.” — HOLY FUCK I SAID NOT TO LEAVE HER *screams in stupid idiots in love*

“Nesta got a thwack on her shoulder for that comment, and she couldn’t help but laugh. Cilla joined her a moment afterwards with a small chuckle, before speaking again.” — Nesta laughing. Nesta joking with friends. I’m just going to live here forever.

“Cilla gasped in mock outrage and threw the coat at Nesta’s head, muttering about females with no morals. When Nesta finally untangled herself and hauled on her coat, Delani and Cilla were cuddled up next to each other, basking in each other’s warmth. Nesta suddenly craved the intimacy they were showcasing. Even though she had never had such a thing with anyone in her life, she knew she wanted it with a certain General who was nowhere to be found.” — NESTA HAVING FRIENDS AND JOKING DOES THINGS TO MY HEART *screams in happy and healed Nesta* She wants Cassian, I’m going to cry.

“She would be missing it this year. She didn’t particularly care that she wouldn’t have to be subjected to the Inner Circle for an entire evening...but still. It was her baby sister’s birthday and she wasn’t there to even give her kind wishes. It stung more than Nesta wanted it to but she threw those thoughts to the back of her mind.” — Nesta cares so much about her family, why can’t nobody see it? *sobs*

“Too handsome, bordering on pretty. Just the type she would have bedded were she in Velaris. A far cry from the rugged beauty of Cassian’s features- wild and unencumbered. Cassian’s beauty was freeing, like a breath of fresh air. But Nesta did not bed the ones that were like fresh air and freedom. No, she preferred the males to scent of cloying fragrances and be done up in pretty silks- reeking of money, arrogance, and a hint of paranoia at the rules they may be breaking by rutting with the Commander’s supposed female.” — She does not bed the ones that remind her of Cassian, that will never stop hurting me because the LONGING

“She felt a fire grow within her as boldness took over. At doing something she knew wasn't wrong- and yet, so very wrong too.” — oh no, shit don’t do it Nesta, please don’t do it.

“She had needed this she realized as she began unbuttoning his shirt and then trousers. Cassian could go and enjoy his night with her sister’s new family. He could do whatever he wanted to on the one or two days he got to be away from her. Spend some time with his precious Morrigan. He had left her here and she owed him nothing.” — NO GOD NO PLEASE NO HE HAS NOTHING WITH MORRIGAN! HE LOVES YOU NESTA, FUCKING HELL

“Forget his scent, his name, every fiber of being within her the sang at his touches. She was going to fuck this male and forget all about the one that had left her alone in his too big house, breaking her heart time and time again. Altin lifted his chin to meet her lips and she gripped his jaw as she pulled him closer. She smelled a faint trace of whiskey on his breath and it was all she needed to freeze.” — She remembered Cassian oh shit *prepares for angst train*

“The door to the barracks slammed open and at the entrance stood an Illyrian warrior, wings flared wide behind him.” — HE CAME BACK?! And did a very dramatic entrance. Typical.

“He took a step back then, as if she had slapped him across the face. Hurt was evident in his expression but Nesta couldn’t let up now. She had to settle this today.” — Oh boy, oh no this is going to HURT. Here comes the angst train, Choo Choo!!

“I’m tired of being treated like I’m yours by everyone but you.” — Talk. Why won’t they talk. Don’t they know how to talk?

“He gave a terse nod and she looked away for a moment, not wanting to see the guilt reflect in her own eyes. A small voice in her head told her to stay angry. That she was allowed to take whoever she wanted to bed, regardless of whether Cassian had come back to be with her or not. She had no reason to feel bad about wanting what she wanted. And yet...it wasn’t what she had wanted was it? She hadn’t really wanted to sleep with Altin. She had wanted to forget about Cassian. And here Cassian was, having done everything except forget about her.” — HE LOVES YOU! WHEN WILL YOU REALISE THAT HE BURNS FOR NO ONE BUT YOU?! THAT HE DESIRES YOU AND THIRSTS FOR YOU?! *screams in slow burn*

“You. All of you. Every inch, every facet, every part. I want you.” — Don’t only think about it damn it. TELL HIM. OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND SPEAK.

“All you had to do was ask witchling,” his response rumbled from deep in his throat, vibrating in his chest and into hers. — WHAT IS HAPPENING?! OMG THIS IS MADNESS

“I...mmm...yes it’s good. I’d ride you better though.” — HOLY SHIT NIN I’M RUNNING A FEVER HERE. And yes, ride him Nesta, please. We’re all asking for it.

“But Cassian left her on that cold stone counter without so much as a word with Nesta catching only a glimpse of the emotion in his eyes that she was sure went beyond being just upset.” — No no no no. Cassian wants to worship Nesta as she deserves but she only wants a distraction because she thinks he does not likes her and she does not want to delude herself thinking otherwise. It’s Feysand’ scene at the tavern in ACOMAF all over again. I love/hate slow burn, damn it.

What was this hollercoaster of emotions? We went from nice laughing Nesta, to heart attack, to smut and finally to angst and back to pining. Somebody call the ambulance because my feelings are all over the place.

Loved the chapter, thanks for coming to my TedTalk part Two and for being such an awesome writer.

A Court of Witches and Warriors

Hehe! Enjoy! I am exhausted and too tired to leave my analysis/rant/explanation for this chapter. May do it tomorrow. Peace ;) 

Warnings: References to depression, sexual assault, NSFW 

Tagging: @bookstantrash @greerlunna @queenestarcheron @queenofbloodshed @cassianscool @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @allilal @courtofjurdan @vasudharaghavan @sayosdreams @moe8 @duskandstarlight @arielle-reads @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @nahthanks @oversizedbats @swankii-art-teacher

                            —————————————————-

Chapter 13- Nesta

Nesta didn’t say a word to him that day. She was feeling too raw, too open at the memories of the previous year’s Solstice. She figured the smartest course of action would be to avoid all talk of the holiday. Cassian, it seemed, had the same idea. The day before Solstice he did not tell her about why the different colored lights were being propped up in all the shops and homes around Windhaven. He did not explain the reason behind the small figurines being placed in windowsills by children, both inside and outside their homes. Nesta did not ask what the wet markings on the doors meant, still dripping drops of red from the crushed berries onto the snow as they dried. She did not ask Cassian what he planned to do for Solstice this year, and when exactly he would leave her to be with his family in Velaris. 

She did not want to know. 

He silently told her over breakfast that he would be leaving for Velaris at noon and asked if there was anything she wanted him to take from her for her sisters. Nesta had not responded, simply shaking her head in denial and returning back to her book. He bid her a quiet farewell as he had closed the door behind him and Nesta had never felt so cold, even with the fire blazing so close to her. 

Afficher davantage

[bookstantrash]

I mean, I really like the idea of a new ACOWAW chapter but aham nessian smut? Would it be possible me for me proof read that scene? Just a friendly help 😇 *wiggles eyebrows and slides a five dollar bill*

Me: I’m going to finish the next Chapter of A Court of Witches and Warriors. Really get Nesta into the healing. Really delve into her powers and training.

Me actually: No. Actually you’re going to write smut that in no way is going to be in the story until a couple more chapters.

———————————————————————————————————–

“My room. Five minutes. Don’t bother putting on clothes.”

-from a random chapter I wrote that isn’t even incorporated into the story yet

@bookstantrash

[bookstantrash]

Please Nin, don’t feel guilty of not updating. I’m loving your mass release of one shots, and perfection takes times. So don’t worry about ACOWAW’s next chapter.

“She’d confused it for an attack and the training he’d given her had kicked in without hesitation, giving him a swell of pride at her progress. But that emotion was short-lived as they tangled and went down, hitting the ground hard as Cassian lunged to make sure he didn’t crush her under him.” — Cassian being proud of Nesta having incorporated the training and jumping straight to the moves makes my day. We all love an awestruck Cassian over Nesta kicking his ass.

“He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that the image of her riding him, hands splayed over his markings and nails almost digging in as pleasure overtook her, wasn’t a recurrent fantasy in his dreams. A complete liar if he didn’t admit that it was the best things he had to look forward to while sleeping when nightmares thankfully left him alone.” — OMGOMGOMG it’s the “fell in a compromising position while we were training” trope and I’m here for it! And yes, Nesta riding Cassian also lives on my mind rent free, I totally understand him using that image to send his demons away.

Thank you so much for the snippet 🥰

Because I keep writing one-shots instead of updating a new chapter of A Court of Witches and Warriors. A snippet. I’m so sorry for literally not updating in three weeks.

Some people have just been thrown onto this tag list because I do not remember who was originally here for the story, and who was here for only one-shots. Let me know if you want to be removed from this one- I apologize in advance.

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A few weeks ago he had been showing her a defense tactic to get her opponent onto the ground, and with enough force that they would stay there while she could run away. 

It hadn’t taken much. 

The lack of sunlight from practicing so early, a tree root that he hadn’t seen, and the sharp look in Nesta’s eyes had been the deadly combination that had caused him to trip mid demonstration. She’d confused it for an attack and the training he’d given her had kicked in without hesitation, giving him a swell of pride at her progress. But that emotion was short-lived as they tangled and went down, hitting the ground hard as Cassian lunged to make sure he didn’t crush her under him.

Which had left Nesta straddling his hips and her hands grappled into the leathers on his chest for purchase. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that the image of her riding him, hands splayed over his markings and nails almost digging in as pleasure overtook her, wasn’t a recurrent fantasy in his dreams. A complete liar if he didn’t admit that it was the best things he had to look forward to while sleeping when nightmares thankfully left him alone.

Tagging: @bookstantrash @greerlunna @queenestarcheron @queenofbloodshed @cassianscool @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @allilal @courtofjurdan @vasudharaghavan@sayosdreams @moe8 @duskandstarlight @arielle-reads @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @nahthanks @oversizedbats @swankii-art-teacher