#cassian does not need to be persuaded he is IN IT!!! he's BEEN in it!!! but he didn't have the words and people in his lief that he cares

[thehighladywrites]

ACOTAR MEN X READER, USING DOE EYES ON THEM

summary: you give them doe eyes in order to persuade them into whatever you want

warnings: nsfw, suggestiveness

amara’s note: i love them holy shit but my fav one this time is eris🥹🥹

Rhysand:

Looks down at you with amusement

He knows what you’re trying to do

“ come on rhyssssss, just one tiny mission. I promise I’ll be super careful, baby”

Unbeknownst to you he agreed the second you asked since he can’t really say no to you

But he loves to see just how desperate you’ll get, how much you’ll beg him.

And paired with those docile eyes? Yeah he’s a goner.

He might seem composed and calm on the outside, but trust me that man is panicking

Rhysand knows he’ll say yes to anything, obey you in every way when you flash him those eyes.

“Okay, but please be careful. If you feel your shoulder hurt again, come home. Abandon the mission and prioritize yourself, do you hear me?”

The moment the words leave his mouth, it hits him like a brick that he agreed to give you a mission when you've barely recovered from an injury.

He never fails to be surprised by your ability to controll him

You words and eyes are powerful indeed…

Azriel:

You’d think he’d have some sort of resistance or something but no

If anything, he folds the quickest of them all

“ Az, could i please-”

“ Yes ”

He doesn’t even let you finish talking, he just looked into your begging eyes and said yes to whatever it is you wanted

There isn’t a thing on this planet that he wouldn’t do for you

But when you pair it with those doe eyes, standing shorter than him as you look up through your lashes with a slight tilt in your head, lips pouting, he gets hard

You look so submissive and innocent, it sparks something primal in him.

“You don’t have to ask me for things, my love, just tell me whatever it is you want and need.”

He’s grabbing you by your waist, pullling you in closer as he kisses you with need.

I’m so serious, this man is down bad

Cassian

He's been working late every day for two weeks, and you've had enough. You miss your mate, and you want him close.

Clad in a slutty little nightgown that screamed ‘give me attention’ , you sauntered into his office

At first, irritation crashes over you like a rogue wave because he isn’t even bothering to lift his head when he greets you. So, you declare it's time for a hands-on approach to spice up the scene.

Rounding his chair, you stand behind him, and with expert hands, you start giving his stiff shoulders a massage. His groans reverberate through the room.

"That feels so good, sweets," his voice is raspy and laced with exhaustion.

Smiling to yourself, your hands travel further down to his chest, where you attempt to unbutton his shirt.

He grabs your wrist, smirking, and drags you so you’re in front of him, raising an eyebrow at your bold move.

Cassian's brain short-circuits as you stand there with big eyes, begging for attention, and then lower yourself to your knees, looking up at him.

“ baby, i missed you so much. Please let me take care of you…”

Stunned, he's left speechless, resorting to a simple nod in response.

Safe to say, you were both pleased and relieved by the end of it all

Lucien:

He isn’t stupid, he KNOWS you use your eyes to get your way

But he literally doesn’t care, he’ll give in to you

He likes watching you work for it though

Standing before him, hands innocently behind your back, you arch your back, pushing your chest out, your eyes widening with a mix of need and desire. Your lips form a seductive pout, silently pleading for him to sweep you away to The Continent.

“is that how you ask for something, my love?”

He's feral, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he watches you, curious to see how far you'll go for a yes.

Little do you know, he's already packed your bags, setting the stage for a surprise journey.

“Please, Luc, I really wanna come with you. Let me convince you.”

You got him WHIPPED, like he’s panicking inside, fucking sweating

“Yeah? How will you convince me?”

Stepping closer to him, you whisper your deprived thoughts, reveling in the way he shudders

Yeah…

You were limping on your trip

Eris:

Eris had never felt so… conflicted in his life

He had never bent over backwards for someone or even let anyone occupy his mind the way you do

The first time you used your eyes to persuade him, he nearly stumbled backward, then attempted to ignore you because he felt weak.

Eris had no idea eyes could be so powerful, and he had a feeling he’d say yes to absolutely everything and anything you wanted

After a few times, he stopped feeling so conflicted and started looking forward to your little manipulation sessions

You had attempted to seduce him all day, but he insisted on working, especially since he had recently ascended to the position of High Lord and had a mountain of paperwork to tackle.

Walking into his office, you strutted around, touching his belongings and casually perusing through the documents on his desk.

Eventually, you got closer to his table and bent over, acting like you needed something.

Eris looked up only to be met with a sight full of your tits. Sighing, he looked up at you with a secret smile,

“I know what you’re doing, sweet thing.”

“ What? Is it a crime to help my mate with his work?”

You look at him with round eyes, your head slightly lowered as your eyes do the talking

His eyes, simmering with desire, traced every curve of your form as a sultry smile played on his lips, creating tension that sizzled with heat.

“Do you remember the last time you gave me those eyes, love?”

Fuck yeah, you do. He had fucked you stupid for hours, in every part of the Forrest House, showing you new levels of pleasure you hadn’t even considered, eyes rolling into the back of your head everytime he pumped into you

Your body shuddered at the memory, body aching for more. Giving him your most desperate, doe-eyed expression, you ask your mate for more

“What if I want it to happen again?”

Giving you a once over with raised brows, his handsome face breaks into a foxy smile as he signals you to come closer

Biting your lips to hide your smile, you oblige, helping him relieve his tension and stress

[sharksscripting]

ERIS WEEK 2024 | HEALING

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After a slightly heated discussion with his brother, Rhysand, Azriel decides that he needs to speak to his mate… to apologize.

OR

Part two of, “Why Not Me?”. This will make NO sense if you haven’t read, so please go check it out first!

—

A/N, this is 2/3, please be patient for me to the post the third and final part after Eris Week 2024! And, this does slightly not correlate with the prompt, but it was inspired by it!

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WC: 1.05k | Light Angst & Mentions of Sexual content | Azris

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1475207368-𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠-𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐬-𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚-𝐱-𝐀𝐳𝐫𝐢��𝐥-𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫-𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐬

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58859323

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Azriel's hands twitched, it wasn't uncommon considering what had happened to them early in his life; but this time it was different. They seemed to ache for hold, something to grab other than each other or an article of clothing, they wanted to touch flesh.

And not the kind that he feels when doing his job, no. Those people's skin was hard, rough, it wasn't smooth like the texture he's currently fantasizing about. The spymaster groans in annoyance, wanting to discover whatever the feeling he was thinking about was.

But he had no clue where to start, he could try with the familiarity of his family—Rhys has soft flesh, it was taken care of in a specific order. It was a habit he developed after Under the Mountain—Feyre has began to join him in his nightly routine to help him feel better about his 'uncleanliness'.

His thoughts shifted to his other brother, though nothing about that man seemed particularly soft. He was always on edge, Cassian was a General anyway; he had no time for nightly routines—not that he would willingly do it anyway, unless his mate were to persuade him.

That's when Azriel's thoughts moved onto Nesta, she had the same skin as Feyre, beautiful and delicate—soft and smooth. Though her hands have been toughening up recently. She has been working hard alongside Gwyneth and Emerie.

The Shadowsinger's thoughts three halt, Gwyneth. It had to have been her that he is thinking about.

Her stunning, silky, ginger hair;Her lush, pink lips; Her strong, button-like nose that looked as if the Mother had sculpted it herself; Her amber eyes.

Azriel's thoughts come to a completely halt at that last statement, Gwyn's eyes were a luscious blue; not a yellow-orange.

Just after this idea had formed, Azriel was already angry. His heart filling with rage; he wanted nothing to do with the Autumn High Lord... did he?

Rather than letting himself finish that notion, he allowed his shadows to carry him to his brother's home, entering the River House without caring to knock. After all, it was midday, Rhysand would surely be home.

The spymaster of the Night Court makes his way to Rhysand's office in the house, pushing it open without a second thought.

"Az?" Rhys looks up from his papers, setting down his writing quill. "What is the matter?" Violet eyes narrow, calculating, but not judging.

"I need to ask you something." He replies, voice gruff and filled with annoyance.

The High Lord's eyebrows cock up, surprised by Azriel's sudden tone. "Well, what is it?"

"How did you feel when you first talked with Feyre, after she knew of the bond." Azriel questions bluntly.

"I've told you this story before, I told you and Cass the day after she accepted it." He then stands from his bureau's chair; walking over to his brother. "Why are you asking?"

The second Rhysand's own question leaves his lips, the male freezes, then smiles. "You have one? That's great, Az-"

"No!" He snaps. "It isn't!" The Illyrian male protests.

"But... you've always wanted one, why is it now bad?" Rhysand asks carefully, though his expression began to fade to irritation by his brother's childish outburst.

"Because of who it is." Azriel replies.

The High Lord of the Night Court stares for a long silent period. "Is this why you've smelt of Eris for months now?" Rhysand questions accusingly.

It was the Shadowsinger's turn to freeze, his entire body becoming rigid. "I've no reason to lie to you," He replies slowly. "So, yes." Azriel nods, but his face was contorted, still filled anger.

Rhysand sighs. "And you've kept this hidden because...?"

"It's only been sex." He scoffs out, crossing arms over his broad chest.

"And Eris Vanserra is fine with being your toy?"

Azriel's eyes snap wide, hands yanking the lapels of the High Lord's suit-like shirt. "Don't you call him that."

"Why? That's what it has been, no?" Rhysand retorts, unfazed by the hostile motion towards him; he knew his brother would never truly harm him—at least not permanently. "You've been using him for sex, your words."

His grip loosens, affected by the truth of Rhysand's words. The High Lord steps back with an unreadable expression across his face.

Azriel has been using Eris as nothing more than a stress reliever, a toy for his own personal gain.

"I'd suggest an apology, brother." He says before sitting back down at his desk, continuing to sign the papers atop his desk.

Without another word, Azriel shadow-walks to the Autumn Court; thinking of what he would say as he "winnows" there.

—

The liquor burns, falling down the High Lord's esophagus with ease. Of course there are healthier ways for one to cope with... relationship troubles, but Eris has always found drinking especially freeing; specifically whiskey. He loved how the rich, smooth, smokiness hit him, and he loved just how drunk it got him.

His eyes dart towards the now empty bottle, sighing as he finished off his last glass. Eris craved more of the robust liquid. So, he stood, walking toward the kitchen of The Forest House; his own personal stash having just run out in his room.

"High Lord." A servant known by the name of Isarn greets. He was an immigrant from the Night Court; beautiful tan skin, short, black, coiling hair, piercing, yellow hued eyes... if the male was Illyrian, Eris would easily mistake the male as his mate in his current state.

"Isarn," Eris replies, his hand coming to one of the black, marble counters. "Whiskey." He says, his voice weak, but leaving no room for question.

"Of course." The male nods, quickly moving to one of the rooms that store the liquor—like a wine cellar, but for Eris' favorite.

Isarn quickly returns with an aged bottle of the russet liquid, the faerie then hands it to his High Lord who takes it with a small nod; returning to his room to finish off another one.

However, when he returns, there's an uneasy feeling in his room; an eerie presence he could recognize within a heartbeat.

"Shadowsinger." Eris greets, setting down the whiskey bottle by the glass cup he was previously chugging from.

"We need to discuss something." Azriel says, hesitantly.

Eris studies his mates expression.

"That we do.”

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Tag list: @chunkypossum, @talibunny30, and @molcat07

Other: @erisweekofficial

[cateyesinlove]

Azriel and Senka

Senka; shadows

Azriel's dæmon was one of the first things that set him apart from his brothers and father. While they had an aegle, Azriel had a bat, a small witty, and playful girl.

When his brothers had burned him, they had caged Senka and kicked her as far as they could from Azriel to make it all so much worse. Senka hated being in confined spaces.

Senka stopped talking until they ended up with Rhys's family. Only after the love and acceptance, he was shown in his new she he was able to feel like she could exist without endangering Azriel's life.

When Azriel fell in love with Mor, Senka was very against it. it wasn't anything about Mor rather that even she could tell Mor had no interest in Azriel. During those long 500 hundred years Senka went from hating Mor, to tolerating Mor, to loving Mor and accepting the fact that Azriel might just pin eternally for her, but then Elain happened.

Sweet, gentle, and intriguing Elain. Senka remembers exactly the moment Azriel catch feelings for her, a human girl with the courage enough to even think of taking him and his brothers down with a fork. Senka knew then and there that she was the indicated person to bring Azriel back from his hopelessness with love.

Then she was made fae, she was Lucien's mate and suddenly she wasn't around, physically there but her consciousness somewhere else. Senka had been intrigued by Anwar because sometimes he would answer for Elain, he would talk about what she needed and other he would only stare, eyes milky and his sight lost in the horrors of where Elain’s mind were.

Azriel never stopped falling for her, on the contrary, the more time he spend with her the easiest was to realize he wasn't deeply in love with Mor. Not anymore.

Then Elain had used Azriel shadows and the bond between them seemed to strengthen with every passing day until the solstice.

Senka had always loved Cassian and Rhysands dæmons like they were sisters but after the solstice incident, Senka couldn't look at Jemisha the same way, Jemisha had done her best to persuade Rhys that forbidding Azriel and Elain was a mistake but she still gave in. She stopped fighting for them. She had expected more from her.

Now she hated Rhysand, she hated Lucien and she resented Jemisha. Her list kept growing and she didn't like it. Senka was the part of Azriel that was able to laugh, to be expressive, to be vulnerable. Senka was Azriels hidden self-worth, she was there to remind Azriel of all the good he had done, how he was worth it, and how he deserved to be loved. Rhysand had ruined her hard work in the last 150 years and if he wasn't high lord she would have clawed his eyes out by now.

"My dearest boy," she had whispered as Azriel observed the small bottle of headache medicine. "You deserve to be happy and so does she." she told him putting her wing on his arm, "There is nothing good you don't deserve, this is the first good thing that I have ever seen you go after, do not lose yourself to the darkest thoughts just because of an obstacle." she flew until she was between the bottle and his face, hovering there. " You humans are your worst enemy, that's why you have us, so we can aid you in the battles against yourself. I'm not letting you lose this one Az, nor the next, nor any of them and I won't let you lose her."

[acourtofthought]

Hello!

I find the "Elain does not look good in black" argument to be one of the biggest clues to her not staying in the night court, so I became very curious as to what e*riels think of it.. AND IT LEFT ME FLABBERGASTED. *Side note* I like to lurk on there from time to time, I don't send hate.

I was genuinely surprised to see that a lot of them claimed she was purposefully "uglified" in order to not look appealing to Eris because the plan was for Nesta to persuade him into doing whatever they wanted.

There was no indication to that being a part of the plan. Elain wore what she usually wears except that the dress was black. A color she never wears (wonder why), but it was obviously expected of her in order to look like she "fits" in. The dress was described by Cassian with words such as: ridiculous (the color on her), long-sleeved and modest (the gown itself). The only negative things he had to say was about how wrong the color looks on her. Elain is also known to be on the more modest side, right? So for her to wear a modest gown isn't exactly out of this world. Miss gurl is after all a proper lady.

It is not confirmed that Eris knows that Elain and Lucien are mates and although Eris obviously cares for Lucien, we don't know how Lucien's relationship is with Eris. So, in fear of Elain's life, I doubt Lucien has ever mentioned her name around him.

Eris was already assessing Elain before it was decided that he would dance with Nesta. It could be because he has an inkling about Lucien and her, or because Elain is the prettiest of the sisters. But the thing is that it didn't matter. Feyre was the one who told him to dance with Nesta and therefore, he did so. Elain could have looked absolutely radiant in whatever color, but he still would have danced with Nesta. So her being "uglified" doesn't make sense because Feyre was the one who decided.

I would also like to point out that it is not only Cassian who thinks Elain looks wrong in black. Nesta points out the same a little later. She mentions Elain changing out of the "ill-suited black dress" and into a different gown. She only points out that the gown was of a different color this time (amethyst and a velvet material, not that it matters) and that she glowed with good health (compared to Cassian saying black leeched the brightness out of her face).

Sorry for the long post. There aren't actually any questions in there, but I do love your insights and thoughts on anything acotar 😂 

This is one of those arguments that is basically the person digging an even bigger hole for themselves.

Not only does it boil down to all the characters thinking, "Elain is too pretty so she needs to make herself look ugly so Nesta can shine" which is not the message I think SJM wants to send for her females.

They like to compare it to when Nesta tried to win the dukes hand, "Well, she truly looked the part of the daughter of the Prince of Merchants. An amethyst silk gown with gold thread, diamonds and pearls at her neck and ears."

And...

"knew that the wealth on her that night dwarfed anything that heiress was wearing."

But the thing is......the heiress still probably wore the best she had. The heiress didn't have to make herself ugly in order for Nesta to shine. The heiress simply didn't have what it took in the first place especially because Nesta also learned that he grew bored of females that chased him so she ignored him and she learned he was vain so she made sure to turn all eyes on the two of them with their dancing.

A female's beauty isn't all that impressive if the only way she can shine is for others to downplay their looks and Nesta was just that beautiful and her dancing that good regardless of what anyone else in the ball was doing.

That scenario can not be compared to Eris at the ball. First, he has never once been shown to seek out beauty and Eris doesn't seem particularly vain. He wants power with Nesta had in spades at that point. Also, Elain is his brothers mate and there are hints Eris does want to reconnect with Lucien. I highly doubt anyone was really worried Eris would be fawning over Elain which would instantly burn any remaining bridges with Lucien. So what reason would there really be to make Elain ugly so Nesta could shine? And again, as stated above, Nesta didn't need anyone to lessen themselves to win the Dukes attention.

What that argument also means though, is that Elain's stunning, glorious, amazing beauty can be completely cancelled out by a somewhat unflattering dress and lack of red lips.

With that argument, some are truly claiming that Elain is ugly unless she's wearing pretty clothes and makeup.

What??!?

True beauty can be wearing no makeup and a potato sack and still look good.

Not to mention Elain had worn her hair down that night. Considering Cassian saw Nesta's hair down for the first time and remarked "It's beautiful", I'd say Elain should also look beautiful with hers down.

Really, people getting hung up on the style of Elain's dress is the wrong thing to focus on. Cassian doesn't note the style of Elain's dress as being the issue. He says, "Elain in BLACK was ridiculous." He'd never once found her to be plain, but wearing BLACK, NO MATTER HOW MUCH SHE CLAIMED TO BE PART OF THIS COURT.....IT SUCKED THE LIFE OUT OF HER."

Sorry for the caps, I found it necessary to make my point emphatically. 😂

Also, thank you for your sweet words! ❤️

[notasapleasure]

Ok well I love both of these so jot that down!! However you know I'm such a sucker for miserable fish-out-of-water Brasso and this accidentally happened, consider it my most considered compliment on your mean old imagination :))

--

Cassian's never seen Brasso look this deflated. His marching uniform is faded and rumpled, worse the wear for having been over-worn and then stuffed in a travel pack for months on end. He takes his cap off and twists it between his hands then slaps his leg with it in frustration. He gazes back into the darkness from which he emerged and sighs.

"I wish you hadn't brought me here, Cass," he says quietly, facing away.

Cassian wraps his arms tighter over his chest and glowers into the caverns at Brasso's side. Already there's no trace of the Ferrixian exiles they'd been negotiating with, and once they go into the catacombs beneath the city they won't be found again unless they choose to be.

"I thought they'd listen to you," Cassian says, annoyed by the petulance in his own voice.

Brasso tuts and puts his hands on his hips, hat still crumpled in one fist. He risks a glance at Cassian, mouth downturned and brows furrowed anxiously. He turns back to the darkness before replying: "Force knows why. It's not like you ever did."

The way the words hurt is familiar - it's a deserving hurt, the same old blade twisting in his chest. Cassian doesn't bother to check his memories to see if he remembers things the same way. It must be right, because it hurts in a way he's inured to. He nods and grips his elbows with his fingers. He glances up at the narrow shards of sky above them. Between the towering buildings it looks like a cage made of light. Somewhere up there, Luthen's agents are preparing to do on their own what the Ferrixians wouldn't help them with.

"Well I had to try. They wouldn't listen to me!" Cassian admits irritably.

Brasso gives him another sideways look.

Maybe he'll express a lack of surprise over this, too, Cassian thinks. He doesn't know how many people he's persuaded over the last months to do things that might not benefit them, doesn't know that Cassian's life now balances on a fine, sharp edge between making sure people listen to him and making sure they don't. But he wants to look at Brasso like he used to and know, like he used to, that Brasso understands him. Only he's changed too much, hasn't he? And maybe Brasso has, as well.

"Cassian - I want you to take me back to Ferrix," he says, still gazing down at the side of Cassian's face.

That's enough to make Cassian look up sharply. "What?!"

"I need you to take me back to Ferrix."

He's deadly serious. Wearing that expression he used to pin Cassian with when he was asking for something both reasonable and impossible. Firm, but too wide-eyed to be threatening. His hair is greyer than it was, and his skin no longer ruddy from the wind at the junk yard, and he looks like he's lost some muscle mass even though he still eclipses the sky's cage with his body. But Cassian knows that look, he still knows him, he does.

He laughs anyway, the kind of brittle snort that attracts an answering rustle from something living in the catacombs.

"No. That's a dumb idea."

Brasso's jaw moves as he turns to face Cassian and Cassian's heart does a flip - he really hasn't changed that much, after all. When he sets his jaw like this there's no moving him.

"Take me to Ferrix, Cass. If I have to get on another kriffing ship I may as well make sure it's one taking me home."

Cassian smirks and shakes his head, arms wrapping tighter about himself, logic leaping ahead to the pathways this conversation might follow. "What about Bix? You said she needs you, it's why you didn't want to come!"

Brasso hesitates, then rubs a hand over his face. "I didn't want to come because I don't like Luthen bloody Rael and the things he does! I don't like flying. I don't like seeing you - " he gives up with a frustrated huff and a roll of his eyes. However he doesn't like seeing Cassian, he doesn't want to explain it - but Cassian can guess. It's the same reason no one likes seeing him these days. The aura of doom, of time being up. He's a harbinger these days, an omen, heralding a reckoning. It's the same reason he can only meet his own eyes in the mirror with a shifty grimace.

Brasso repositions his hand on his hip and resets his expression. "Bix is doing fine. She's busy working on the bombers for Yellow Squadron with Wilmon. She's got Bee to look after. They don't need me there. I wreck stuff, Cass, I don't build it. There's nothing for me to do on the base."

Cassian's never forgotten the look on Brasso's face when he left him in the shuttle with the other Rix Road escapees. Shock; a nauseated horror at what was to become of him. Like some rare plant, accustomed only to a highly specific environment and now ripped from its setting, cast into an enormous, unfamiliar galaxy, torn out of the only place it could thrive.

Cassian shifts uneasily - he already blames himself for that, too, and his shoulders ache under the weight of it. He bites the inside of his lip to redistribute the pain and mulls over the idea of Brasso as someone who wrecks instead of building. It seems absurd, even though he knows objectively that's the work Brasso's been born to. Even though that's what Brasso was trying to persuade the Ferrixians here to do on Luthen's behalf. That's why Cassian brought him here. But when Cassian thinks of his friend, he cannot make the description fit.

"I need to go back, Cass. This..." Brasso shakes his head wearily at the tunnels. "This has just made me certain of it."

Cassian stares blankly at the chest of Brasso's uniform, the marching insignia and his rank in the Sons of Ferrix - polished and cared for despite the wear to the fabric. He thought it would mean something to the exiles in the catacombs, a respect and a pride in their homeworld that Cassian struggles to summon. Instead they viewed it, and Brasso, as a relic - a useless trinket failing to adapt to the Imperial occupation of Ferrix, failing to see the galaxy as it now is.

"Yeah. I know," he mumbles.

It's only later, in the calm of hyperspace, that he lets himself take note of the unease he feels about Brasso's request.

They'd stayed to bargain with Luthen - Cassian saw Brasso damn near lose his temper, and it haunts him, like a call from another version of his life, muffled and dim, but insistent. Something about seeing Brasso shed his cautious, quiet demeanour makes Cassian hungry, and nostalgic, and sad. There's also a lingering fizz of adrenaline in his veins, from when he thought Luthen might just have Brasso killed for his insolence, for daring to have seen Luthen's face and disagreed with his methods.

Cassian, who would have sat dispassionately at the side of the disagreement, waiting for it to end in stalemate, broke in to offer reassurances, to translate one set of cares to another. He defended Brasso's listless life on the hidden base and defended Luthen's increasingly cold-hearted methods, and both men knew how well he had lied for them in the past and let him lie on their behalf again.

But this time, Luthen can't understand how deep his loyalties ran. He didn't tell Luthen where he was taking Brasso - that would be a death sentence in itself. He knew he could trust Brasso not to broadcast it either. They left with a piece of the rubble in the ship's hold and a list of names of the lost Ferrixian exiles - enough for a makeshift memorial, a duracrete block to fill in some of the damage caused by the battle of Rix Road.

Now, with the violet-bruised swirl of hyperspace outside the port, with time to kill as the ship winds and jinks its way from the Core to the Rim, Cassian rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and seeks out the squirming, writhing sense of unease inside him. He grasps it and grimaces, but doesn't let go. He's got to deal with this - now. Or it'll all be for nothing, this diplomatic escort, this shuttling back and forth.

He unbuckles his restraints and leaves the cabin, making his way to the tiny sleeping quarters. Here, Brasso lies on his back in the bunk, his eyes screwed shut and his forearm thrown over them. His jaw is locked and his skin is clammy, and he takes a deep, unsteady breath through his nose as Cassian enters the room.

"Brasso."

He grinds his teeth but otherwise gives no sign he's noticed Cassian's arrival.

"Brasso! We need to talk," Cassian stands by the bunk, his arms folded.

Brasso makes a sound that's probably an invitation to Cassian to talk all he likes, but it's not good enough. Cassian lifts the surprisingly weighty forearm lying across Brasso's face and flings it off so Brasso flinches and flails and grabs Cassian's wrist to stop him doing that again.

"Sithspit, what's wrong with you?" he snarls, eyes narrowed like there's a bright light on his face, pain furrowing his brows.

Cassian rips his arm from Brasso's grip and folds it over his body again. "Ferrix. What are you going to do when you get there?"

Brasso's frown deepens. He shuffles a little against the pillow and rests his hands on his chest, fingers loosely interlaced. He grimaces at some barely detectable turbulence and shakes his head. "What do you mean?"

Cassian tilts his head sardonically. "You're just going back to your old job, huh? That's all?"

Brasso glares at him, but settles deeper into the bedding again. "Plenty of wrecking to do on Ferrix these days, Cass. You know that."

"So what's your plan?" Cassian tries to keep the exasperation from his voice, but in doing so he lets a hint of worry sneak through.

Brasso watches him, runs his eyes all over Cassian's face, his stance, his body language. He sees at least as much as Luthen sees - it was easy to forget that Brasso could read him like this when he told himself he only answered to one man in the galaxy these days. Not now, in this small space, where Cassian has to get the assurances he needs before he can let this happen.

"There's still lots of good people there," Brasso says cautiously, at last. "Pegla, Granik, Rashi - Vetch. The Daughters. People who won't be sitting easy under Imperial rule."

It's an answer that goes to Cassian's tense muscles like a shot of Huttese brandy. Good, good - this is a plan, not just a half-cocked attempt to jump feet-first onto his his own funeral pyre. He flips down the seat in the bulkhead and drops onto it, the energy surge making his legs tremble and his knee bounce.

"Ok, that's a start," he concedes. He knots his fingers together, elbows on his thighs, digging sharply in, trying to still his knee. "Where are you gonna go though?"

A shadow of confusion passes over Brasso's features. He closes his eyes and swallows as the ship rocks gently through hyperspace, his knuckles whitening on his chest.

"Brasso? You need somewhere safe to work from. Where are you gonna go?" Cassian prompts, trying not to get frustrated that anyone can find the smoothness of hyperspace so unpleasant.

"My place?" he mutters and flinches at Cassian's exasperated exclamation. He manages to crack his eyes open and look at Cassian - it's so plaintive, coming from one who's never asked Cassian for anything at all for himself, that Cassian reaches out and lays his hand over Brasso's, pushing his own fingers between clenched knuckles and gripping tight.

Fondness wins out, like there wasn't time for it to do back in the disordered flight from Rix Road. "You smashed their guy with my mother's brick, Brasso. They're gonna remember you. You've got to use the wreck, use the tunnels - stay underground."

Brasso's eyes widen, like this was a minor detail he's forgotten about. He looks about to deny his significance, so Cassian squeezes his hand again, leaning forwards earnestly. "You can make a difference there. But I'm not going to let you waste this."

"Right..." Brasso says carefully, reading and re-reading Cassian's expression, the breathlessness creeping into his tone. "The wreck. The sea of dead ships. You mean the tunnels under the hotel?" He shifts on the bunk again, propping himself up higher, squeezing Cassian's fingers back.

"There's no way the Imps will have found those," Cassian's lips quirk wryly and a smile lights his eyes. This is the work he does now, sometimes, too. But he doesn't always have faith that those he encourages stand much of a chance in their fight. This, at least, is something genuine, something of his own - not part of Luthen's grand scheme.

From the look in Brasso's eyes he'd quite like to smash a few more Imps with the Coruscanti rubble in the hold. It's all Cassian needs to see to believe that Ferrix will be in safe hands soon.

Made up fic title (man I am bad enough at coming up with my own fic titles 🙃): any lyric of your choice from Stealing Cars by Nadine Shah

I'm not saying that "neither you or I can drive" is the title of my "brasso and cassian accidentally rebel together" thesis BUT. PERHAPS IT SHOULD BE.

We talked a bit about ferrix having layers of underscrap that worked like the lower levels of coruscant and maybe ferrixians working low down on coruscant being recruited for rebellion-backed bombings, but please consider those ferrixians turning luthern down and not understanding that his backup plan is carpet bombing the sites they work under, so theyre doomed anyway. Cassian is frantically trying to make brasso understand that he needs to get these people *out*, but to them brasso (shipped in for desperate diplomatic reasons, please brasso, they don't believe I'm from ferrix) is just some sad old-worlder who doesn't understand how things work here, and their efforts to relocate the ferrix diaspora are doomed and everything is tragic

Or its "check your pulse when I speak: an oral history of brasso noticing but not betraying anti-imperial activity", if I'm in a more positive mood.

[clementineskesh]

Rob: I don’t think everyone did show up [to Maarva’s funeral thinking] “Today, we’re gonna fight the empire.” I think what's key here is that over the course of her speech, what she is saying is “We all recognize that it is time to fight the empire.” Nobody can look in themselves and take stock of all the things they have to lose, all the things they’re afraid of, nobody when they do that internal inventory shrinks from it. Because, and I think this is what he’s getting at in this is that when it is posed, when somebody sort of brings the moment to a head, there’s going to be a ton of people who are like “Now there is a choice before me.” And it’s actually a choice that’s already been made. [...] There is sometimes this idea that we come to our beliefs and our actions via a really open minded objective intellectual process, and we evaluate arguments rationally, etc., and this is how change happens. And I think, what’s kind of cool here, is that I don't think anybody, over the course of this episode, is persuaded of anything. Andor is not being persuaded in this scene. Andor is hearing things he’s already decided or put into action articulated. It is a feeling that he’s already following, now he is given words for what he is feeling and an outlook but he is not persuaded to it the way I think maybe Nemik sometimes intended. Nor is Maarva’s speech persuasive from the standpoint of ‘All these people on Ferrix were happy until she got everyone riled up.’ What it is doing is summoning this deeper-seated anger.

Austin: I mean, I think it persuades one group and it's the imperials that they are not in control. And that’s the match that lights the keg.

[darklove9314-blog]

Azriel/Nesta/Cassian threesome but in another court after a angsty court meeting

“Can you believe the nerve of that pompous, limp dick asshole?” Nesta raged, pacing the floor of her and Cassian’s room as she fought to gain control of her anger, to gain control of that rage that burned inside of her.

Azriel and Cassian followed her inside, Azriel shutting the door tightly behind him as a small smirk crossed his lips. Cassian gave him a knowing look as he turned his attention back towards his mate. 

“It’s Eris Vanserra we’re talking about here Nes, he doesn't have the reputation of being the most rational fae in the courts.” 

Nesta spun to him, her face flushing red in anger before taking a deep breath to center herself, 

“I at least expected him to act in this meeting with some tact, I know I rejected his proposal and that’s a sore spot for him, but that still doesn’t mean-” 

“Let us take your mind off of him.” Cassian suggested making Nesta falter in her words, glancing at the both of them, 

“Here?” She gaped, looking around the décor of the autumn court’s guest room, one Cassian had been shocked Rhys and Feyre had managed to obtain. 

“Why not?” Azriel shrugged, a hint of mischief in his gaze, his shadows snaking across his skin, “It’s as good of a place as any and as Cassian said, we want to take your mind off it. 

Nesta gaped, glancing at both of them as they got closer to her. Both of them positioned, awaiting her word. 

“Yes.” She breathed and with that one word both Cassian and Azriel pounced, both their lips going to either side of her neck as one of each of their hands palmed her breast making her moan in response. 

A wicked gleam crossed Cassian’s face as Azriel shoved her to him =, his hands hooking in the fold of her skirts, ridding them up so she was fully bare before them. A low laugh escaped from Azriel’s lips as he aligned his cock with her entrance, Cassian pressing a kiss to her lips as she felt Azriel slid inside of her, a soft moan escaping her lips as she kissed Cassian, his lips swallowing up that moan as if it were his own form of personal ecstasy. 

“Does his cock feel nice inside of you, Nes? Is it doing the job of making you forget that horrible princling?” Cassian inquired soothing her hair, gosh he was everything. 

“Not yet, but I may be persuaded eventually.” Nesta answered, a curve of a smile befalling her lips as Azriel thrusted deeper inside of her, causing her to cry out yet again as Cassian held her in his strong arms, never faltering as he pressed a kiss to her lips again, his tongue matching the pace of Azriel’s thrust. Gosh what did she ever do to get this close to heaven? 

“I guess you need more of a distraction then.” Cassian growled out as his hands went to the pulls and stays of his leathers, pulling his massive cock out of his pants, stroking himself so he would be extra hard for her. 

She glanced up at him, as he pressed the tip of his cock to her lips, his heated gaze fixated on her,

“Open up for me, Nes.” Cassian instructed, tracing his tip across her lips, a bead of precum slipping onto them as Nesta glanced up at him.

She licked his tip, swirling her tongue around it as she felt Azriel lift her leg up trying to go balls deep inside of her as Nesta took Cassian’s cock in her mouth, Azriel glancing at her taking Cassian into her mouth with a smug smile. 

“Doesn’t his cock taste divine on your lips, Nesta? Don’t you want to take more of it?” He inquired his fingers wandering to Nesta’s hair, making her wonder if Azriel would make her gag on it.

Cassian’s eyes flashed warning to Azriel as Cassian flashed his teeth at him,

“If you’re going to be petty about how my mate sucks my cock then you might as well get down on your knees and show her how to do it yourself.” Cassian growled out as Nesta took him further into her mouth, her tongue swirling around his head as his hands wound in her hair, a chuckle escaping Azriel’s lips. 

“With pleasure.” Azriel mused landing a smack to Nesta’s ass and pulling out of her ad he knelt beside her, both of them on their knees before Cassian.

He turned to Nesta, Cassian’s cock still between her lips as he said,

“Now, Nes, it’s not polite not to share.” Azriel purred as Nesta released Cassian’s cock from between her lips, stroking him in exchange as her eyes found Azriel’s and responded, 

“I’ve never been good at sharing what is mine.” She told him a she felt Cassian tug her hair, getting her to stare up in Cassian’s eyes, loving the power and command that he held there. 

“Now, Nes. You should let Az have a turn that way you could prove that your the best when it comes to sucking my cock.” 

His thumb traced her lips, a silent promise that they would finish what they started as Nesta knelt, her eyes going to Azriel’s as he crawled over to Cassian, sending a look over to Nesta as he said, 

“His balls need some attention when I’m sucking his cock, Nesta. Do you want to help out.” 

A wicked smile crossed her lips as she postioned herself to where she could take Cassian’s balls in her mouth while Azriel took Cassian’s cock. 

Azriel took Cassian’s cock in his mouth, taking him down to the hilt, relaxing his jaw as Nesta sucked on his balls gently grasping Azriel’s in return so the shadow winger was included in this. 

He moaned around Casaian’s cock, taking it out gently as his eyes locked on Nesta’s. 

“On second thought, perhaps you need someone else’s cock in your mouth to occupy you Nes.” 

The tips of Nesta’s lips curved up in response as she knelt down beside Azriel’s cock taking it inside her mouth as he placed bis own lips on Cassian's to cover up the sounds of pleasure Nesta brought him, knowing that it had probably been a while since another female had sucked his cock like this. 

She bobbed her head as Azriel shoved her head down making her take more of his cock until she took him balls deep making her saliva coat his cock as he took Cassian just as deep. 

Nesta swirled her tongue around Azriel’s cock, showing the shadow singer just how talented she was. Even though she was more in tuned with the things that Cassian preferred, if this was going to continue for the three of them she had to find out what Azriel liked as well. 

She dragged her teeth across Azriel’s length, making him gasp in surprise as he bucked up into Nesta’s mouth letting her know that he immensely enjoyed that.

He took his mouth off of Cassian’s cock making Nesta pause as he turned his attention to Cassia  saying, 

“it appears as if our girl wants to learn to take my cock Cassian, but I think she’ll need a firm reminder of yours while she’s doing it.” Azriel told him as Cassian gave him a ruthful smile. 

Nesta felt her hips lifting, Cassian’s cock aligning with her entrance as her face met with Azriel’s cock, slowly taking him in the back of her throat as Cassian slid into her with a powerful thrust, wrapping his hand around her hair as the other one steadied her waist. 

Azriel’s hands wrapped in her scalp, shoving her deeper on his cock as Nesta scraped her teeth against it in answer, making Azriel  chuckle. 

“No worries, Nesta, I don’t mind the pain.” Azriel answered as Cassian thrusted her further onto Azriel’s cock, making her gag on it in response, tears prickling at the edges of her vision. 

“Go gentle on her, Az, She hasn’t take a cock as big as yours before.” Cassian reminded him making Azriel smile as he slid Nesta’s mouth from his cock with a ruthful smile. 

“She’s a lot more experienced in taking big cocks that you give her credit for Cass. Maybe we should test how well her mouth takes two.”

Nesta’s eyes widened at the suggestion, Cassian pausing in his thrust as a smile curled to his lips at the thought.

“Would that be something you like. Mate?“ Cassian asked as Nesta thought it over.

“Yes.” She breathed as Cassian pulled out of her quickly, brining her to her knees as he and Azriel stood on either side of her. 

She glanced between the two of them, both cocks erect as she strained to find a place to start. 

“Who will you give the honor of taking first, Nesta?” Azriel inquired, tilting her chin up towards him and tracing his thumb over her lips, making them part as Cassian’s fingers ran over her scalp. 

“What if I can’t decide?” She asked, her eyes shinning with a lust filled gaze at the two males before her. 

“The. I guess you can test both our cocks to determine which one you take first.” Cassian suggested taking his head through her scalp in answer.

Gods yes.” Nesta breathed as Cassian sent a small smile to Az, both of their tips lining against her lips as her heart beat rapidly, she had never tried taking two at once, and the thought of it was exhilarating

She opened her mouth wider, both their tips sliding in gently, working their way in until Nesta could no longer take both of them. She moaned cupping her breast for extra sensation as she felt both of them battling for dominance inside of he. 

She inclined her head towards her mate as Azriel pulled out in answer breathing heavily, her spit coating his cock as he jerked her back roughly, Cassian’s cock slipping further into her mouth as Azriel lined up with her entrance. 

“Eyes on your mate, Nes. i want him to see the look of pleasure on your face as I fuck you. I want you to suck his cock with the desire that you feel when you come around my cock.” 

Nesta nearly forgot to breath as her lips parted and she took Cassian’s cock into her mouth, Azriel slipping past her entrance as he seated himself inside of her making her moan around Cassian’s cock in pleasure. 

“Fuck, your mate feels nice Cassian. Are you sure you’re against sharing her for the rest of our lives.”

Cassian chuckled darkly, but an intensity pooled out from his gaze. 

“I may consider sharing her at some points Azriel, but her pussy was made for me.” Cassian shot back at him making Nesta moan around his cock at the sheer dominance in his voice and if she had to admit it at Azriel’s cock deep within her hitting every spot she could possibly have as she heard him chuckle behind her. 

“We’ll see about that.” Azreil told him sinking deeper into her as Nesta cried out around Cassian’s cock making Cassian shot Azriel a glare as if in challenge. 

“She may shatter around your cock now Arieil, but trust me when it’s my turn to make her come, she won’t even remember you were inside of her. “ 

Azriel chuckled, pulling Nesta back by her hair as he slammed into her with punishing, relentless thrust as his nails bit into Nesta’s tender flesh.

“Coem on, Nes. Show your mate how much I make you come.” 

Nesta moaned around Cassian’s cock, taking him deeper in a silent plea, she wanted her mate to come, wanted to give him this pleasure as much as he and Azriel were giving her pleasure. 

She sucked harder on Cassian’s cock making him curse in pleasure as his hand wrapped around her hair, steadying her, 

“You want to choke on my cock, Sweetheart?” Cassian inquired as Nesta sucked on his cock harder in answer as Cassian thrusted harder in her mouth making her gag on him, her spit slding down his length making it easier for him to take him. 

He held her there, using her hair to keep her steady as she gagged around his cock before he decided she had coated him enough and released her before Azriel slammed into her so hard that she came un done around him coming loud and messily around his cock, an animalistic noise escaping her throat as Cassian cursed, finishing himself off on her breast as Nesta felt the warmth of him sliding down her chest. She would smell like her mate for weeks. 

“So wasteful.” Azriel cooed, pulling out of her as his fingers slid in Cassian’s come on her chest, plunging two fingers inside of her and finger fucking Cassian’s release into her as Nesta cried out in pleasure, Azriel pumping both of their releases deep inside of her. 

Nesta panted as Casian stroke his cock again to get himself harder so he could release more of his seed inside of her as Azriel smiled at him. 

“I’ll be sure to feed your mate properly when I’m in her mouth Cass.” 

Cassian let out a low growl in answer, his cock aligning with her entrance as he slipped inside of her making Nesta cry out at the fullness of him, Azriel may have been bigger than Cassian, but Cassian was definitely girthier . 

He rested his hands on Nesta’s hips using them to assist his cock further inside of her as Nesta moaned in pleasure, adjusting to her mate’s size and the force of his thrust as she met him stroke for stroke, pushing her ass up against him as Cassian growled out to her in response. 

“That’s it, Nes, show Azriel how well you take my cock.” 

Nesta moaned out, unable to form words as she felt the bond opening up between them filling Nesta with the purest form of light she had ever felt as she gasped, Azriel sending Cassian a slight glare when  he did so. 

“Cheater.” 

Cassian smirked at him, never losing his focus on pleasuring her body as he answered, 

“It isn’t my fault that you’re not using your shadows to assist you.” 

Just as soon as Cassian said that, Nesta felt Azriel’s shadows flicker over her sensitive clit. making her gasp at the feel of them. 

“Perhaps, Nesta would like the feeling of being full of more than just your cock.” Azriel growled out as Nesta felt his shadows seep into her dripping center where Cassian was. 

Both her and Cassian moaned at the sensation as Cassian fucked her and Azriel’s shadows, the shadows going into depths unknown that no one had entered, depths that Nesta hadn’t even known existed. 

Tears streamed down her face at the pleasure of it all, impressed that she could feel a pleasure this intense in her life as she bit down on her lip to suppress the moan that so desperately wanted to come out. 

“Don’t hold back on us, sweetheart.” Cassian told her, pulling her mouth away from Azriels’s cock as he pressed his lips firmly to hers. “Let me taste that orgasm.” 

A deep racking sound fell from Nesta’s lips as Cassian pressed his firmly to hers, claiming that moan for his own as he pumped inside of her, Nesta feeling the first splashes of his own orgasm as she felt him seeping between her legs. Azriel’s shadows retreating with it and going back to Azriel as he leaned back stroking himself to the sight. 

She leaned forward taking Azriel in her mouth as Cassian went over to the shadowsinger, capturing his lips within his own as he chased Azriel’s release with a kiss. 

Nesta felt Azriel’s come fill her mouth as she weathered him, Azriel leaning up into Cassian’s kiss as he thrusted up in Nesta’s mouth. Nesta still feeling Cassian’s release between her own length as Cassian pulled away breathless as Azriel leaned back against Cassian and Nesta leaned back against Azriel, content with each other’s company as Azriel leaned forward undoing Nesta’s now messy cornet braid. 

She glanced at the shadow singer as his hands combed out her hair and started working on redoing her braid, Nesta’s eyebrow flickered up in question as she inquired, 

“You know how to braid hair?” She asked him as Azriel gave a low chcukle. 

“You’d be surprised what I picked up over the years.” He answered finishing up the braid as she leaned back against him, soaking in his warmth as Cassian pulled both of them closer, holding the two people he loved the most beside them as Nesta basked in the warmth of the two males, glad to have them in her life. 

[uwingdispatch]

Crashing

Crashing

Notes: Cassian Andor/Reader, everyone lives au, post-rebellion, hurt/comfort, disabled reader, fluff and angst

TW: PTSD, panic attacks, chronic illness, disability, implied sexual intimacy

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

It’s early in the evening when the demolition starts. It had been planned by the city—an older, unsafe building had to come down to put in new affordable housing. Somehow, you’d both forgotten about it until you heard explosives. You’re fine, if startled. But Cassian, while often able to cope with even the most difficult triggers, drops the plate he’s rinsing in the kitchen. You’re quick to steady him, but his face is already going pale.

“Breathe,” you say. “Try and breathe for me.”

Losing control of your body in a panic attack is frightening. Heightened heart rate, unsteady breathing, dizziness, nausea. A reaction like he’s having often leads to him passing out or vomiting—still, Cassian’s first response to this is that he hates you seeing him this way, that he doesn’t want to upset you.

“Didn’t you have some things you needed to do at the library tonight?” he asks as you help him to the couch. “Kay is home. You should go. I’ll be fine in a little bit”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say. “Not until you feel okay.”

Placing an extra pillow behind him, you remind Cassian about the medicine in his drawer and he shakes his head. “You know I hate taking those. This will pass.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve been through a rough bout of panic with him. Like so many Rebel veterans, he was diagnosed with PTSD after the war. Cassian goes to therapy, he meditates, he has regular doctor visits. He does almost everything he’s supposed to do. But no matter how bad it is, he hates taking medication—especially the tranquilizers he’d been prescribed that sit in his nightstand, nearly untouched.

*

You’d been living together for maybe six months when you found yourself in an art supply store with Cassian, his therapist having finally persuaded him to try “art therapy.” It was a familiar space for you, and the smells of fancy papers and paint, of unfinished wood and colorful yarns—it was comforting. You were hoping that this comfort would be Cassian’s as well, soon.

“I don’t know what she’s thinking,” Cassian said staring down a wall of brushes. “I can’t paint. I’ve never painted in my life.”

“Maybe that’s part of the point,” you said. “Maybe she wants you to try this completely new thing, with no expectations.”

“You’re probably right,” he said. “But I wish she’d given me a shopping list.”

“Didn’t she tell you to sign up for a specific class?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not going to?”

“No.”

You sighed. There was nothing you could say that would convince him to try the class, and you suspected his therapist knew this about him, too. Knew this is where he’d end up instead. Still—perhaps because of the nature of your visit—Cassian wasn’t keen on asking a salesperson for help. And you weren’t really a painter yourself. However, you knew you’d always liked the feel of acrylic paint under a brush.

“Right,” you said. “Okay. Well, let me show you what I would buy.”

You picked out a package of brushes that weren’t too fancy, but that would work for what you had in mind. And you showed him a set of acrylic paints that were a decent quality, but wouldn’t turn out to be a waste of credits if he ended up hating all of this. And you took him to the paper aisle and pointed out what that you thought would be best for acrylics. And last, you insisted he buy an unfinished wooden box.

“What’s the box for?” Cassian asked. “Storage?”

“Maybe someday. Depends on what you do with it. But I really like how it feels to paint unfinished wood. You might, too.”

Cassian shrugged and added one to the shopping basket. When he realized you were holding the basket, he eased it out of your hands, not wanting you to have to carry anything even a little bit heavy, given your joint issues. He did this all the time, despite the durasteel rods in both of his legs and his shoulder. He liked to joke that being somewhat bionic made him perfect to carry things for you, but you knew he had days, especially in rainy weather, when he could feel those rods in him, and that it wasn’t pleasant.

“My heart, you are too good to me,” he said, cupping your cheek with his free hand. “How about lunch in the park?”

You smiled, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

*

Your intimate knowledge of panic attacks makes watching your partner suffer through them unmedicated all the more horrifying. You know exactly what his body is doing, because it happens to you, too. And when it happens to you, he is the first one to bring you your meds, to sit with you for hours, to stay up all night if he has to. And if you’d tried to send him on an errand while you were like this? It’s unthinkable.

Your tooka cat has been attentive as always—now he curls up in Cassian’s lap and starts to purr. Cassian holds the tooka almost like a prayer, something concrete to ground him in this moment.

You and the tooka both stay with him for hours, but a little after the time you would normally eat dinner, Kay convinces you to get out of the house.

Transferring a short shopping list to your datapad, he says, “What is it you organics say? You need to go out and acquire some oxygen.”

Get some air. He’s right, of course—you can feel your own anxiety coming to the surface. But that doesn’t mean you’re happy about leaving. As you walk the short kilometer from your little house into town, you call Chirrut, wishing he were local and not several star systems away.

“I don’t know what to do for him,” you say. “He won’t take the meds, it’s like he thinks it’s important to power through this on his own.”

Chirrut sighs audibly over the com. “He’s always been stubborn,” he says. “You’re doing what you can. Keep doing that. Have him call me if he wants.”

When you end the call, you add a few items to the list Kay sent you out with: electrolyte replacement tablets, soup from that café Cassian is obsessed with, migraine medicine. You tell yourself at the pharmacy checkout that you’ll stop by the library on your way home to pick up those datacards you need, but you don’t. It’s two blocks out of the way and you want to get home. To him.

*

With your supplies secured along with takeout from a favorite food cart in the compartment on the back of Cassian’s speeder bike, you wrapped your arms around him and he took off. You’d been surprised when he’d brought the bike home—there was already had a landspeeder in the garage. But he’d told you that day to get on the back and hold on tight. So you did. And as you rode together through your city, the feeling was almost euphoric.

That feeling persisted, even today, many months later. It was a bright, cloudless afternoon and, as you drove from downtown to one of the city’s public parks, you could smell all the green that had finally come back. So much work had been done to restore this city after the war, and it was amazing to see the beauty returning to Ralltiir—a beauty that you knew so many beings would get to enjoy.

At the park, Cassian pulled out a woven blanket and laid it in the grass, invited you to sit with him. You heard songbirds in the trees, a family with three laughing children flying kites just a few meters away. Was this bliss? If just for a few moments, you hoped so. Pain was universal, but surely this man had suffered his fair share. You wanted a little bit of bliss for him to hold on to, something to return to on his darker days.

*

When you return to your little house, Kay gives you an update: “The captain lost consciousness for 2.6 seconds. He has since had six ounces of water and half a meiloorun.”

“I’m right here, Kay,” Cassian says. “I can speak for myself.”

You sit on the sofa with him, setting the takeout bag with his favorite soup on the little living room table, and he rests his head in your lap. As you brush his hair away from his face, you feel a sheen of cold sweat on his forehead.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Like I’ve been run over by an AT-ST. But I’ll be okay.”

He’s well enough to crack a joke, but you can feel him starting to hyperventilate. “Can you take some deep breaths for me?” you ask.

You take a deep breath for yourself before asking Kay to bring you a washcloth and a bowl of ice water.

“Like last time?” Kay asks.

“Exactly like last time.”

“Okay.” you say. “I’m here. I know my trauma isn’t from combat, it’s not the same as what you’re dealing with, but I’m here. There are friends you can call if you need. Jyn would come over in a heartbeat. You’re not alone in this.”

“Thank you, my heart,” he says. “You are all I need tonight.”

As much as it breaks your heart to see your partner like this, you’re thankful that he will at least try some of the interventions you suggest. Like dipping his face in ice water to try and short circuit his racing mind.

And the ice water works long enough to eat dinner. But this is one of the worst episodes you’ve ever seen him though. Cassian’s anxiety stays heightened even after you both go to bed, and as the sun starts to rise, he still hasn’t slept. Neither have you. So he kisses your forehead, thanking you for staying up with him, and he takes his pillow out to the couch.

*

You stayed in the park for hours, sometimes in complete silence, just enjoying each other’s presence. As the sun set, the park emptied until it was only the two of you—almost as if the rest of the world wanted to give you a moment of peace. You were laying in Cassian’s lap as he stroked your hair when a perfect smile came across his face.

“Marry me,” he said.

It was sudden, seemingly out of the blue. But Cassian was very rarely impulsive.

Still, you asked “Are you sure?”

He laughed. “Come here, my heart.”

He helped you sit up, and you sat facing him as he took both of your hands.

“Of course I’m sure,” he said. “I’m not sure of much, but I am sure about this. Marry me.”

You felt the wet of tears on your cheek and realized you were weeping. You leaned into Cassian and kissed him, breathlessly, without any care for anyone who might walk into the park and see you there.

“Is this a yes?” he asked, your foreheads touching, your hands in his hair.

“Yeah,” you said. “It is.”

He kissed you then, with a joyful hunger, and you felt a heaviness leave your body. Something you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding on to. It was gone, and you felt full of light.

*

“Come back to bed.”

You’re standing in the living room in your sleep clothes, barely holding it together for your partner who is tucking himself in under a throw blanket on the couch. The sky is violet, and you want nothing more than to hold him until he feels safe again.

“It’s dawn, I’m not doing this to you.”

“Cassian,” you say. “If sleep was my priority right now I’d have taken a tranquilizer. I’d be sleeping.”

“Please just go sleep, my heart. You’ve done so much already.”

You’re holding his pills in your hand. The very same pills in a different dosage are in your nightstand drawer with you name on them. “Tell me about the durasteel rods in your body.”

“What?”

“Tell me why you let them repair your shoulder and your legs with durasteel.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“Humor me.”

Cassian rubs his eyes and sighs. “Because my bones were shattered. I didn’t get to the bacta tank in time. Without the durasteel, I might have lost limbs.”

He realizes where you’re going with this, lets out a slow breath. “It feels like cheating,” He says. “Everyone who died, the pain I’m responsible for. It feels like cheating to be able to just take a pill.”

“And the durasteel?”

Cassian takes the bottle from you, cradles it in one hand, rubs his thumb over the label.

“It sounded like Jedha today,” he says, finally. “The whole city coming down around us. We barely made it out of there with our lives. Everyone else…there was no way to even try to help. They were just gone.”

“I’m so sorry you’re experiencing that again,” you say.

“Just…give me a minute. I’ll come back to bed. But I need a minute.”

You nod and return to the bedroom. The house is quiet except for the sound of the tooka purring in the warm spot Cassian left in the bed. As you crawl back under the covers, you hear the kitchen faucet, then the rattle of a pill bottle.

When he appears in the doorway, you feel a wave of relief wash over you, the tension in your body releasing.

“You were right,” he says, sinking into the bed next to you. “I should have taken the medicine sooner. I…wish I handled this better.”

“You handled it the best you could.”

He takes your face in his hands and touches his nose to yours. “I am a very lucky man.”

He kisses you softly, a brush of his lips across yours. And soon his breathing steadies, and he sleeps. So you sleep, too.

When you wake, it’s past noon. You find a note on the kitchen counter. He’s gone into the office just to check in and will be home at the normal time. You spend some of the afternoon napping, and as the sun gets lower in the sky you start to bake. You’re getting a second loaf of bread into the oven when you hear the familiar set of clicks and beeps as Cassian unlocks the door.

You turn to find him looking as exhausted as you are. But he has a smile on his face, and a big bouquet of flowers.

“My heart,” he says. “It smells delicious in here. Tell me you actually got some rest today.”

“I rested, Cassian,” you say. “Are those for me?”

“I suppose I could give them to the tooka, but he probably wouldn’t enjoy them like you would.”

You get a pitcher out of the cupboard and fill it with water for the flowers.

Cassian wraps his arms around you. “Thank you. For yesterday. For last night.”

When he kisses you, yesterday begins to fade away.

Cassian whispers, “I don’t know how I get wake up next to you every day.”

“I’m just glad we found each other,” you say. “And that you’re feeling more like yourself today.

He kisses you deeper then, his hands cradling the back of your neck, pressing your body in the most pleasant way up against the kitchen counter. You think you might be headed for the bedroom when Kay comes loudly through the front door.

The droid catches sight of you and says, “I’ll leave.”

“That’s all right, Kay,” Cassian says, not taking his eyes off of you. “We will have time for this later. We have so much time.”

★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much for reading! I know this was kind of a tough one, but I hope it made you feel seen and loved. I did not expect this one to be as difficult to navigate as it was, but I think it ended up worth the time.

Tagging: @princessxkenobi @zinzinina @maul-ologue @operation-spot @waterpancakeao3 @strwrs @aerynwrites

[echotzzz]

Elain and The mother

This could be a crack theory but regardless i want to share about what i feel about this matter and i’m sorry if it sound really off or unjustifiable. Again this is just a theory and from my own interpretation.

I truly feel that somehow Elain have some sort of connection with the Mother, but not like how Nesta was. We know about the Cauldron where it determines fate from the eddies of its swirling fluid but what about the Mother? Does it truly exist and have her own power or just an idea to the faeries.

So my theory is that what if the Cauldron chose Elain as the representative of the mother. What if she was the one that whispered to Nesta and prevent all of her power taken by the Cauldron.

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer.

I believe the rose will represent Elain’s journey in the next book. But is it coincidence that the rose eventhough hidden in shadows were place beside the mother figurine ? Nesta even feel the need to put the rose in that position.

Is this the foreshadowing sjm used that the shadows would represent Elain’s love life and the mother as the arc for her power?

We don’t know what are the whole scope of power Elain possessed and how powerful she is but the thought that the Cauldron itself BLESSED HER with such gift must have some sort of meaning and reasoning and not just because it found Elain to be lovely. There must be something beyond that.

The voice

If i’m not mistaken, Nesta started to hear this voice after Elain volunteered to search for the dread trove and reacquainted with her power.

For Nesta

The voice was female, gentle. Wise and serene.

The gentle female voice in her head pleaded, Run, run, run.

A soft, familiar voice whispered the words. As they had been whispered to her long ago. As it had warned her in Oorid’s darkness. A lovely, kind female voice, sage and warm, which had been waiting for her all this time.

For Cassian

His stomach twisted. Instinct bellowed at him to wrap himself around her, to comfort and soothe, but another voice, an ancient and wise voice, whispered to keep going. One more mountain, that voice said. Just one more mountain. He trusted that voice. “We’ll camp here tonight.”

After read the description of the voice, i couldn’t help myself to relate it with Elain. Sjm also in this case, purposely gave us a really detailed ass description about the voice.

The voice was described as Female, familiar, gentle, soft, warm, serene (calm), lovely, kind, wise and ancient.

Let’s take a look the way Elain was describe throughout the books

Gentle and sweet

Nesta hadn’t wanted any dealings with the Fae, and Elain was so gentle, so sweet … how could I bring them into this?

Elain, who had been gentle and sweet.

But Elain, the flower-grower, the gentle heart …

Warm

Nesta met her sister’s warm brown eyes.

Serene ( calm)

Elain crossed her arms and said calmly, sadly, “Feyre warned me this might happen.”

“I still wanted to come,” Elain went on with that focused calm, the quiet steel building in her voice. “I wanted to see you, to explain.”

Soft & Lovely

Beautiful—she’d always been the most beautiful of us. Soft and lovely, like a summer dawn.

Kind

Something in my chest broke at Elain’s voice from the hall behind her. At the sweetness and youth and kindness, untouched by Prythian, unaware of what I’d done, become—

To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind.

Wise and sage

“It’s already ended badly. Now it’s just a matter of deciding how we meet the consequences.” “Wisely said,” Mor offered,

For a moment, I just stared at my sister, the wisdom she’d spoken. Not a whisper of those oracular abilities. Just clear eyes and an open expression.

Ancient

With Cassian the voice was described as ancient and wise. It remind me the time Feyre and Cassian met the bone carver in acowar and he talked about what happened in Hybern

“How lovely she is—new as a fawn and yet ancient as the sea. How she calls to you. A queen, as my sister once was. Terrible and proud; beautiful as a winter sunrise.”

At first i thought the bone carver talk about Nesta but the word lovely,fawn and sunrise(dawn) really associated with Elain

“I can see so very far now. All the way to the sea.”

Elain stood by the rail, the breeze caressing her hair. “She’s not getting any better. She’s not even trying.” She wrapped her arms around herself and stared toward the distant sea.

Could it made sense that Elain as a seer have knowledge that are as ancient as the sea.

The dread trove

“You were Made by the Cauldron. You may track other objects Made by it as well, as Briallyn can. And because you are Made by it, you are immune to the influence and power of the Trove. You might use them, yes, but they cannot be used upon you.” A glance to Elain. “Either of you.”

So, since Elain was also made by the Cauldron she will not be influenced by the power of the trove. But it strike me as odd as why does Elain froze as well when Nesta use the Harp to stop time.

Is it so to give opportunity for Elain to use her power to whisper as the voice to Nesta ?

Do you see how it might be? that soft female voice whispered, What you might do?

The voice talked about the vision of Feyre’s death and what Nesta could do to prevent it. Seer abilities??

Even the things that hurt and hunt you? Only curiosity laced the question. [...] That wise, soft voice whispered, So live, Nesta Archeron.

Pain slowly washed over Elain’s face. And understanding. “Is that what this is all about? Father?”

Other than Cassian, Elain is the only person that knew the thing that haunted and hurt Nesta was her father’s death.

The Cauldron

So, Nesta bargained to give back what was stolen in return to save Feyre’s, Nyx’s and Rhys’ lives. But somehow, someone had prevent the Cauldron to take all of the power

“But a little remains. I think something else—someone else—stopped the Cauldron from taking all of it. And I made some changes of my own.”

This person literally stopped the Cauldron. The Cauldron have every intention to take it all back but stopped because of this someone.

Remember when the Cauldron came for Nesta in Acowar but retrieved as it saw how important Nesta is to Elain and it also purr in her presence as if Elain has a certain influence towards the Cauldron.

What if Elain persuade the Cauldron to not take all of Nesta’s power. Maybe from her seer abilities, she saw that it is vital for Nesta to have some of her power for the upcoming war?

Invisible hand

And a soft, invisible hand brushed her cheek in answer.

The sun was a warm hand on her shoulder, like the one that had prevented the last of her power from vanishing, as if telling her that the apology, the begging for forgiveness … it was no longer needed.

Nesta described the hand as warm coming from the sun. Is it coincidence that Elain also often describe as sunlight🤔

Yes, they’d have to figure out what to do with the entire Dread Trove now that they possessed all three objects. How Nesta had summoned it despite the spells Helion had placed on the other two … He’d think of that another day. Along with the fact that she’d stopped Time with the Harp. And that she seemed to have some sort of connection—or understanding—with the Mother. The Mother.

Notice that Cassian mention all of this to be done in the future. Since Nessian will not be the MC in the next book, it is obvious the next book’s MC will be the one that handle it.

they’d have to figure out what to do with the entire Dread Trove now that they possessed all three objects

The 4th dread trove object is still a mystery and only the one that was Cauldron made can find it and who is the remaining Cauldron made? Elain. It’s obvious enough that the DT will still play a major role in the next book

How Nesta had summoned it despite the spells Helion had placed on the other two

“In the end, Helion created the wards and keyed them to Nesta’s blood.”

“Once we leave this room, no one shall be able to enter it. Even you, if you do not unlock my wards, cannot enter.”

We have no idea how Nesta could actually summoned the objects despite Helion’s spell. And only Rhys and Helion the one who know how to unlock the spell.

I don’t want to be too reaching but what if Elain was the one that unlock it. Nesta’s blood run through Elain’s vein and maybe her seer abilities that provide knowledge as ancient as the sea could be the reason she knew to unlock the spell. ( again this is just my interpretation)

In conclusion

Is it coincidence that Nesta connection with the mother will still be a topic in the next book and at the same time there are foreshadowing mention the wooden rose was put beside the mother figurine?

Is it coincidence that Sjm never mention about whether Elain do reacquainted back with her power? Amren whom really eager for Elain to start finding the trove could have train Elain herself especially when she frequently mentioned how Elain should not be underestimated.

Is it coincidence that Elain is mentioned to even beat Azriel in secrecy that Cassian sometimes suspected Elain early dismissal was not to tend some elderly fae garden but what if she’s on the roll to train for her power. When sjm mention ‘secret’ it was not only to reflect the forbidden love but also Elain true power.

Is it coincidence that we only knew the surface of the seer abilities and somehow sjm haven’t elaborate it much further. As an Elain stan, i admitted that i actually know little of her as sjm never provide Elain with her own pov. Its like if we enter Elain’s head, there will be a major spoiler considering she will be the next MC.

If this theory turn out to be true, do you think that the Cauldron use Elain as his messenger or a puppet by giving her vision and image? Remember when the IC were lost and suddenly Elain were given image about Vassa. When Elain could search for the Suriel with only one try.

Why was Elain captured by the Cauldron when it clearly mentioned that the Cauldron will never harm her. It was as if in order for something to happen, Elain must be captured. What was the outcome:

Trigger Feyre to fly where she only have been training for a short time.

A human girl name Briar were saved. Will she be important in the series as her character were given a name?

To alert that Tamlin was in fact on the good side

When Elain was captured, she was lured by the image of Greysen offering her safety and protection but who was the one that rescued her?Azriel. Like she was expecting Greysen to come but instead it was Azriel. Was the Cauldron use this to show Elain who will matter to her the most?

“Nothing is a fluke. The Cauldron’s power flows through Nesta, and could use her as a puppet without her knowledge. It wanted those weapons Made, and thus they were Made.

And do not forget that Nesta herself—and Elain, with whatever powers she has—is here. Feyre is here. All three sisters blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match your own.

[vidalinav]

Love is Bright Red, Hope is Dark Blue SNEAK PEAK

So, it seems that sneak peaks keep me accountable, because every time I posted one I finished the fic, and if that’s not some voodoo magic I don’t know what is. 

However, this hopefully will be the last fic I post before ACOSF. I’m aware that many of you will probably be logged off by the time I post, but honestly who even remembers this fic series. I’m perfectly okay with shouting to the void. I’m going to abandon every fic I said I was going to write and keep them on the back burner. This will be the first completed work I’ve ever had and I’m determined and... also very bored! (insert little emoji with the fists up) 

So, I’m going in. 

Nesta’s Love is Quiet/Cassian’s Love is Warm Masterlist

~

The picture of Nesta hangs on the living room wall. She moves and its eyes follow. She blinks and it awakens. The other her stares. Her expression a collage of painted lashes, crimson dusted skin, a rose that is cradled in her hands. This Nesta, praying to some unknown deity who never answers.  

She looks innocent. Far too innocent for the amount of horrors she’s seen... and she’s alone.

A singularity. An outlier.

The image lies off center in the middle of the wall, yet the other pictures crawl up the space like tangling vines suffocating the life out of her. Life is not painted in her eyebrows, or the color of her hair, or the red of her lips, or her pale neck. Rather, it is what is around her. The pictures that are filled with laughter and smiles and heart-wrenching happiness.

They must have taken it from her, she thinks. Poor girl.

But Nesta shakes her head. No, she never had it. It was always the others who laughed, who yelled, who joked those jokes of theirs. She might have been placed here, forced to fit, squeezed into the place they could find room for, but at the end of the day, she is merely a pretty painting tacked in Feyre’s living room wall. Beautiful… but not alive. Cold, and alone, and red with the stain of blood.

Is this what Feyre sees when Nesta skidders through her memories? If it is, she is even more certain of their foolish want to love her.

“I painted it the day you left. I think it came out beautifully, don’t you think?”

I think I look dead inside; she wants to say, turning to Feyre who leans against a table, all starry skies and none of the bleak, burning black holes.

Dead.

Dead and buried.

Feyre grimaces, taking a breath as if she’ll recite poetry in the hall. What other words will spew from the depths of her throat and croak out in sounds and syllables?

Are words even enough to describe memories turned to dust and rose-colored wounds freshly healed?

The fiery anger blooms out of Nesta’s lungs. Its laid dormant for far too long, all those winter days in the mountains trapped under frost. But, Nesta can’t respond, doesn’t know what she’d say to her little sister who means so much to her, but at the same time makes her heart ache as if it bleeds from where’s she’s stabbed her in the chest.

Nesta opens her mouth to speak...

Elain strolls in.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” She grins, grasping her forearm, pulling Nesta towards the dining room in glee. “I thought I’d show you what I made to celebrate.”

Nesta shudders at the thought, at the feeling of her sisters at her side and behind her. Huddling around her as if they mean to keep her close. Nesta thinks it feels like a prison. “Celebrate what?”

Elain looks at her oddly, “You being back—and Cassian, of course… Your health.” She adds, her brows furrowing in concern. Nesta doesn’t know what that look means.

Tell me, she wants to scream.

Elain swallows, the dandelion charm at her throat bobbing. “When Cassian carried you in, you looked so… small. Feyre and I were worried that you’d—”

“We had complete faith that you’d be safe and well again,” Feyre smiles, the mirth never reaching her eyes.

An odd phrase, Nesta thinks, for she’s never been safe or well.

Nesta squints to the table and Elain perhaps noticing the shift, moves quickly to the image of steaming casserole and piping hot buns. Dessert already sits in each corner and she wonders who exactly they’re all feeding if this is the amount of food they waste.

“The roast is still in the oven.” Her favorite.

“You’re favorite,” Elain mumbles softly—shyly, “I thought since we missed your birthday, we could celebrate now.”

That word again.

Celebrate…

Don’t they know that she rejoices in being away from them? That she finds solace in the quiet day by day. There is no obligation of sterile complacency, of beauty she can never live up to. She doesn’t need to be a good sister, a caring sister, a sister who reaches both hands out in compassion. In Windhaven, beyond Velaris, she is just Nesta. She is no one.

Nesta resists rolling her eyes or saying something snarky just because she can, just because she knows it’ll hurt. Instead, she touches the plate on the table, a fine porcelain made of blue glass. It reminds her of the chandelier she has at home, blinking and twisting like an unhindered star.

She doesn’t want to celebrate her birthday.

Feyre pulls out a chair, the noise screeching against the floor and Nesta can’t stop the harsh look she sends her way.

If they missed it, she did too.

But at her cold demeaner, Elain is quick to lure her to a seat, proclaiming that Nesta will sit beside her all evening. Perhaps, they’ll exchange stories. I want to hear everything, she pleads. Will Nesta tell her the weather then? The bitter frosts, the buried cemeteries, the avalanches that never came crashing down like she wanted. It was all too perfect, all too according to plan.

Nesta will not let them have the satisfaction.

Elain smiles crookedly, some noise that sounds both like a laugh and a cry barreling out of her lips.

Nesta half-wonders what about her now seems fragile to her little sister when she had treaded precariously past death and disinterest and yet nothing could persuade them a year ago that she wasn’t well enough— okay enough.

Nesta only looks to the stairs. The sound of rustling feet stampeding above. She can feel him even now, wants to call for him even if she abhors the thought.

Her sisters are… different when Cassian is around. More watchful, more cautious. Not as eager to touch her or to offer an array of activities that don’t at all sound pleasing to her ears. He is her guard somehow, even though he offers nothing but laughs and soft, easy smiles.

But he ambles down the stairs as if she calls him. Perhaps she does, in that hollow part of her body she still doesn’t understand. The part that whispers his name, echoes his feelings, reminds her that she is not alone.  

“Sit,” She urges lowly, moving the utensils that Elain sets down to another place setting. Cassian raises a brow but sits beside her.

His hand rests on the table and Nesta wants to know what it would seem like to these… people—her family if she placed her palm in his so openly. She clenches her fist to stop the reaching, turning her gaze away from his golden skin.

“Oh,” Elain says, noting the seat beside her taken.  

To be continued….

~

Tagged and those who will be tagged from Cassian’s Love is Warm and those who said they wanted to be tagged on everything: (let me know if this changes)

@dreaming-of-bohemian-nights , @missing-merlin, @strangeenemy, @saltydreamcollector, @midnightbluhm, @my-fan-side, @queenofillea1, @tswaney17, @gloriousinlove, @ekaterinakostrova, @thebluemartini, @anishake, @lord-douglas-the-third, @soitsgorgeous, @lolasjournal @duskandstarlight, @arinbelle, @nestaarcher0n, @allilal @mis-lil-red

~

I hate confrontation like my life depends on it, but I don’t know how to start the healing process for the sisters without some, so maybe you’ll get an outburst or two from Nesta and maybe Cassian. But ultimately it’s going to end not like the healing is complete, but rather that the healing is able to take place, ripping off band aids here. It’s going to be long and emotional. 

I read the previous chapters and omg I get so mad when I read it. It’s like physically impossible to read Nesta’s voice without being stark, ugly mad, but it is easier to write that way. Also, Feyre is about to be annoying in this but it has to happen to come full circle. But at least Cassian and Nesta will be uber cute and established! I have a day out in Velaris date for them.

If y’all have followed this story and have some burning desire to see something, let me know! It will be the last chance to do so. Because again, I’m determined to finish and I’ll NEVER write for this fic again. NEVER. But I will not write smut (unfortunately I suck at that and I try to avoid anything I suck at)

Actually let me set a date: it’s going to be posted on Wednesday by 11:59pm central time. Yell at me if it’s not lol. This will be my reaching 1000 followers gift.  

[gwyns]

You know what made me realise how hypocritical and dumb the cult truly are? Them shutting down arguments about our hopes of Elain leaving the nc not because we just want to see Elucien but because we want to see Elain HEAL and go out to the world and go on adventures with the band of exiles. And they say Cassian going on for a whole paragraph about how nc black drains the life out of Elain and how Sarah is basically trying to tell us through multiple characters that Elain doesn’t fit in the nc “doesn’t mean anything” when they made a bunch of PowerPoints on shitty sleeping beauty theories based on a pink dress Elain wore and claim Elriel is endgame because she wore a cobolt dress the same color of Azriel’s siphons when they first met. Like I can’t tell if that last one was supposed to be a joke or if they’re actually serious (if they are I don’t know whether to feel sorry for them or laugh at their desperation)

oh but dear anon don't you know it's misogynistic to want a female character to have the space to grow and find her place in the world? no no no! she must at all times be tied to a man somehow otherwise you're taking away her right to choose!!! 😠😤

i love elucien, i ship them not bc they're mates (tho i do like the mate trope so i don't get everyone's "need" for a rejection or whatever) but bc i see the potential they could have together. we saw glimpses of who they truly are in acotar but ever since then they've kinda been beaten down and pushed to the side bc their emotions and suffering aren't as obvious as other characters. people assume they're fine simply bc they don't say otherwise.

acotar elain and lucien are compatible af. both are social beings, elain was literally raised to be the wife of a powerful man so therefore she's good at hosting parties and the like. lucien is an emissary, meaning he has to be good with people for his job to work. he knows how to persuade them and get them to do as he wishes, much like elain.

they're both optimistic and try to see the best in the world, both are the favored child of the parent they're closest to, both have kind hearts but are absolutely snarky assholes underneath it. yes elain too, don't fight me on this. we all know she has a secret side none of her family has seen yet.

as for the lines about elain not fitting in from cassian and nesta's povs.... while i could somewhat understand their reasoning that cassian doesn't know her (even tho he's probably the most aware character in this series. there's countless displays of him being able to read people and giving them exactly what they need), nesta grew up with her. nesta was her closest companion before they were made. nesta would know if her sister doesn't quite fit, even if their relationship is strained.

another point, they say these characters don't know elain but act like feyre does? you really think feyre of all people knows what's best for elain? or that she knows azriel that well after 2 months?? i have to laugh.

sarah isn't some amateur writer, she's published 15 books now, she knows what she's doing when she chooses which words to use. it's not just a "oh teehee this is random and has absolutely no meaning :)" it's her, likely, trying to tell us things about her characters without actually telling us. it's truly not that hard. maybe elain will find her place within the night court but as it stands right now, she's a fish out of water.

ohhh i just know it hurt when sjm shut down their sleeping beauty theories lmao 😭 i will give them this: elain is kind of in a slumber at the moment. she's not truly living, just existing. but elain, someone who up until this point has been characterized as a human flower doesn't need shadows or darkness or death to open up. she needs sunshine. something i almost never see people bring up is how in acowar elain's mind is literally described as a slumbering garden, waiting for light to help it grow. elain is a flower, she needs the light of her mate.

about elain wearing cobalt...... they do realize that vassa wore a cobalt jacket in acosf right? is she his endgame now?? as much as pre-acosf me wanted that, i can accept that that's not the route she's taking lol. not to mention that gwyn wears blue, too. it's not that deep.

[yazthebookish]

⚠️ Forewarning: Unpopular opinion here. ⚠️

So I've been thinking back to what Briallyn said to Nesta about 'others in the NC who would give her the Trove with the right incentive' and it got me thinking that the only other two people who could hand over/summon the trove without it influencing them in any way are: Feyre and Elain, the other two Made high faes. As High Lady of the NC (& pregnant, therefore vulnerable), I don't think Feyre would do anything to jeopardize her court no master what incentive Briallyn offers. She knows what's at stake (her family, her court, Rhys). And while I don't believe Elain would align herself with the enemy and do anything that would bring harm to her family, I do think she could be more easily persuade especially if she's under the false pretense that Briallyn/Koschei would keep their word and not harm her family.

We already figured out in ACOSF that Briallyn planted spies in the NC and one of them was Bellius, who died moments before Briallyn made her presence known to Nesta in the Blood Rite. Briallyn's comment hinted she's made contact with others in the NC regarding the Trove. Who could these others be? Definitely someone who could get close enough to the Trove without appearing suspicious. Someone who has the ability to not be influence by such a powerful object. Someone who could work around the magical ward Rhys and Nesta has placed on it.

Like calls to like.

Though Briallyn may have orchestrated a part in this plan, the puppet master behind it all and the one who stands to gain something greater with the 3 trove in his possession is Koschei. Even contained, he has ways to get people to do his bidding. That was how he was able to get Briallyn to ally with him. By whispering in the wind to her, pointing her in the direction of the troves.

Is it farfetched to believe Koschei couldn't have done the same to Elain? Whispered to her while she was gardening. He needs these items to help set him free and there are only so many people who can hand it over to him. Elain is also someone the IC excludes from court affairs but also someone who is free to roam around without question or tabs. I don't think it's outside the realm of possibility that she could be influenced in some way in the future books especially if there is something else she desires to gain. 👀🤔

***Excuse any grammatical errors. Did not edit this.

Hello anon,

No you made good points. Elain was hinted in ACOFAS that she's trying to find a way to turn back to being human. You'd think she'll give up on that just because Amren told her there's no chance of her turning back to human? I doubt it.

I don't think Elain will turn evil or would do something to harm her family but I think she could be manipulated because she does have something she wants back, her humanity. Briallyn said whoever this spy is, with the right incentive could get her the Trove items. Which incentive hmm? If they have loyal spies and subjects why would she need to use the right incentive to persuade that spy to get them the trove especially if it's heavily warded by Rhys and Helion? That means they are offering something to this spy in exchange of that spy bringing the trove items to them.

You really have to wonder where is Elain half of the time? You really think it's all gardening she is doing? Why did SJM plant some suspicions in the readers' head about her? Through Cassian's POV especially.

[whoreforenemiestolovers]

a story i wrote about eris and mor and what happened five-hundred and nineteen years ago.

Word Count: 3093

Characters: Eris, Morrigan, Cassian, Keir, Beron, Rhysand

TW: Abuse, Torture

---

Eris was still reeling from his conversation with Cassian.

“Why did you leave Mor in the woods that day?” Cassian had pushed and pushed for an answer. He sat by the fire in the room Rhysand had given him for his stay in the Hewn City, a glass of liquor in his hand. He never let his thoughts wander to the events from over 500 years ago. The memories were just too painful.

“I think you might even be a good male.” Eris shuddered, he didn’t need a brute like Cassian telling him he was a good person.

“You’re just too much of a coward to act like one.” Eris would have imagined Morrigan would have told them the truth by now, considering that is what she’s known for. He started fading off to sleep, eyelids heavy from the alcohol, and for the first time in years, let his mind recollect the months leading up to the worst moment of his life.

Five-Hundred and Nineteen Years Ago...

Mor was the most beautiful woman Eris had ever seen. Her blonde hair shining as bright as the sun, her golden-brown eyes twinkling in the moonlight of the Night Court, and that red dress that she loves to wear, Eris couldn’t get enough of her.

From the moment Eris Vanserra laid eyes on Morrigan, he didn’t see any other female. He begged and pleaded with his father to arrange a union for them, and finally, he agreed. Tonight is Mor’s birthday and her father Keir is going to announce the wedding to the Night Court.

Morrigan was on the dance floor with her cousin, and High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She moved like a goddess and Eris was head over heels for her. Keir moved to the center of the room.

“May I have everyone’s attention,” Keir was tapping on his glass, looking like a smug prick. Morrigan’s father was such an asshole, so much so that one of the reasons Eris was so set on marrying her was to help her get away from him. “I would like to make a toast for my daughter’s Morrigan’s birthday,” he paused and smirked at Beron, Eris’ father and High Lord of the Autumn Court. “Tonight is my daughter’s seventeenth birthday, one of very many being High Fae. Tonight’s party is for her and being so, I have a present. Too long have we been at odds with the Autumn Court so tonight I am proud to announce that my daughter will be married to Eris Vanserra, the oldest child and heir of the Autumn Court.” Everyone started clapping and cheering but from across the room, Eris could see Mor’s face drop.

He could see a tear slip from her eye and something inside of him broke. Mor ran from the room and Eris followed.

Eris followed Mor into a dark corridor, far from the festivities, the scent of her perfume almost sending him to his knees. “What’s wrong Mor?” She turned around, tears staining her red cheeks.

“Did you know about this?” He could hear the hurt in her voice.

“Of course I did, I want to marry you.” Eris was being open and honest, something he never does. “You’re my mate Mor.”

“Don’t say that,” Mor was looking around to see if anyone heard, “I am no one’s mate. I do not belong to anyone. We have talked about this and I have said that I do not want to marry right now. I am only seventeen Eris. I want to live.” Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “Eris, I--” Eris cut her off before she could say anything.

“Please don’t say it Mor. Give me time. I will delay the wedding. You can have all the time you need to live your life before settling down. Let me prove myself to you. Give me a year and if I don’t change your mind by then, then you can say it, I promise. But please Mor, do not say those words to me. Not right now.” Eris didn’t think he could bear hearing those words. The breaking within his chest. Not being able to sense her. To feel her.

Mor hesitated before answering, searching his eyes as if she was questioning whether or not he was genuine. Her tears were gone and the silence was heavy between them as he waited for her answer, and then finally, she spoke. “Okay Eris. One year. If you can delay the wedding I won’t say the words. Not yet.” He let in a slight breath at the sound of his name on her lips, praying one day she would say it with love in her voice. A faint smile overtook her lips as she leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I truly hope you can persuade me within the year,” she paused and looked into his eyes, “I think you might be one of the good ones.” With that, Mor ducked around him, heading back to the party.

Two Weeks Later…

Eris looked into the eyes of the beauty across the table from him and something broke inside of him. “What do you mean we have to get married within the month?” Mor questioned her father.

“I mean what I just said Morrigan. Beron and I decided it would be best if the ties between our two courts were solidified before this war comes to us.”

Rhysand, who had been silent this entire meeting, finally spoke up, “This isn’t your court Keir. Last I remembered I am the High Lord.” The earth seemed to shudder from Rhysand’s power.

“You might be the High Lord but you are barely more than a child.” Keir scoffed as if forgetting Rhysand is the most powerful High Lord Prythian has had in centuries. Eris swore he could see Rhysand’s power creeping across the table to Morrigan’s father.

Keir went still. “You seem to be forgetting that I am High Lord because I was the most powerful in my family, uncle. Do you see how easy it was for me to penetrate your mind just now? With a snap of my fingers, you’re brain dead, a living corpse. Never speak to me like that again or I will not hesitate.” Everyone at the table was silent and motionless as life returned to Keir’s eyes and motion to his body.

Morrigan was speaking now, “Rhys you’re the High Lord, can’t you stop this?” Rhysand’s eyes went dark. He began to speak with a softness in his voice Eris had never heard before.

“As much as I would like to Mor, I can’t,” Rhysand looked down, “ I may be High Lord but Keir is your father. Until you are married, you are technically his property. I can’t claim blood kin on you because he is alive.”

Mor jumped out of her seat, slamming her hands down on the table with rage glittering in her eyes. “Then kill him Rhysand! I am no one’s property, least not his!” Keir was staring at her wide-eyed, probably wondering if Rhysand will actually do it, Eris thought. Rhysand and Mor have always been close, there is rarely anything he wouldn’t do for her.

“Mor, you know I would love to,” Rhys paused, glaring at Keir, “but I can’t.” Rhysand looked exhausted and defeated. It was Beron’s turn to speak up.

“There will be no debate. You both will be married within the month.” Fire was simmering beneath his eyes, the same fire that was within Eris. Beron stood up from where he sat, “do not test my temper children.” With that, he turned on his heel and left the meeting room. Mor then glanced at Eris, tears brimming in her eyes.

“You promised,” she let out a sob and a piece of Eris’ heart broke at the sight. Keir laughed, receiving a growl in return from Rhysand. With that, he left the room as well, leaving only the three of them.

“Mor I will figure something out, just promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” Eris was pleading with her because Gods only knew what his, or her, father would do if she did anything to sabotage the union. Mor looked at him through her tears, sadness and rage flickering through to the surface.

“I will make no such promise,” she wiped off her tears, straightened her gown, and walked out of the room. Rhysand looked at Eris with dismay. They stood in silence for a few moments before Eris spoke.

“Should I go after her?” Eris had always been good at talking to females but Mor was different, he loved her. She was his mate, and he never wanted to do anything to upset her.

“I think Mor just needs to be alone right now. Give her some time I’m sure she’ll come around,” and with that, Rhysand departed as well, leaving only Eris to his thoughts.

The next morning Beron announced they would be departing after breakfast, winnowing back to the Autumn Court. Eris wasn’t ready to go. He knew once they were back in their own court, in the privacy of their home, Beron would raise hell. He still had the scars left from last time.

Mor wasn’t at breakfast. Eris frowned at not being able to see her again before he left. After breakfast, Rhysand winnowed them both back to the Autumn Court and as quickly as they appeared, he disappeared. Beron turned to look at Eris, “go wait for me in the cave. I have some things to attend to first,” He smirked at him and Eris swore it was the most evil sight he had ever seen. Eris slowly made his way down to the cave, building up the strength he will need to face his father. He entered the cave and waited. Five minutes. Ten minutes. An hour. Beron liked to make him wait, to build up the anxiety and fear for what’s to come. After two hours of sitting in silence the door creaked open and in walked the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

“Hello, my oldest son. My heir. The one who, even though I give so much, shows so little respect.” Beron walked across the room to a tray that held many sorts of torture devices and weapons to inflict pain. “Why haven’t you strapped yourself to the chair yet,” he questioned, still studying the instruments in front of him.

Eris used his magic to strap himself to the chair, bracing himself for what he knew would come next. “Keir told me what your dear Morrigan said after I left the room, ‘you promised.’ What exactly did you promise her my dear child?” He walked closer to Eris, a scalpel in his hand. “What did you promise her?” The scalpel was on his face now, pushed a little deeper and it would draw blood.

“Just that I would try to have the wedding delayed for a bit,” Beron pushed the scalpel into his cheek, slicing from his cheekbone to his chin. Eris screamed in pain.

“And why would you want the wedding delayed, boy? I thought you wanted to marry her?” Beron moved the scalpel to the other side of his face, cutting once again, only deeper. Eris jerked and screamed, hoping someone, anyone, would hear and stop this madness. But Eris knew better. He knew no one came down here and even if they did, they knew to ignore whatever they heard. Eris’ face was on fire, the salty tears from his eyes burning the wounds on his face.

“I do want to marry her, that's why I would delay it. Because it’s what she wants and I love her.” At that, Beron summoned fire into his hand and pressed it into Eris’ bare chest, right over his heart.

Eris was thrashing against the straps, the smell of his burning flesh mixed with the pain being inflicted almost made him vomit. “Now what have I told you about love?” Beron lifted his other hand, summoning flame to it as well, and pressed it against the other side of his chest. Eris couldn’t take it anymore. He was going to die soon if Beron didn’t stop.

“You said it isn’t real! That we shall meet the standards of no female!” Eris was screaming from the pain. He looked down and could see muscle and bone from where the skin was being burnt off. Beron retracted his hands.

“That’s right. We bow to no female. Why do you think there isn’t a High Lady? It doesn’t exist because females are the weaker sex. We can admire them for their bodies and fuck them like they’re dogs but we will never bow for a female.” Eris was gasping for air.

“W-we will n-never bow for a f-female.” Beron stood up, keeping his eyes on Eris. He picked up the scalpel once more, cutting a deep line into Eris’ thigh, just slightly missing a vein. Eris blacked out from the pain.

Eris awoke in his bedroom, bandages on his chest and leg. His face was healed by a healer so no one would know what happened but his father likes him to keep the scars on the rest of his body. He tried to sit up, pain flashed through his body and he collapsed back on the bed.

“Shhh don’t try to sit up. Say still,” the voice was one he recognized. The healer who has been there every time he has awoken from a blackout.

“How long have I been asleep Lydia,” he hated to think he’d been out for longer than a day.

“Three days sir,” she turned, hiding her face of disgust, the disgust for what his father does to him. “I shall be taking my leave now. Please do not try to move, you still have some healing to do. You lost a lot of blood.” Lydia left the room and that’s when Eris saw the note on the desk next to his bed.

Whenever you awake, come to my office.

It was in his father’s handwriting. He prayed for the day Beron died. The day he would become High Lord. Lydia told him not to move but it was best not to keep his father waiting. Eris shifted, lifting himself up with his right arm and pushing himself off his bed. He went to his closet, finding a tunic and some pants to put on, hissing at the sting of his shirt on his burns.

Eris departed his room and made his way to his father’s office. Two lefts, three rights, down a corridor, another left, and his father’s office was the only door on the right. Eris could find his way there in his sleep. He knocked twice, waiting for an answer.

“Come in,” his father sounded angry. This wasn’t good. Eris opened the door and walked in. “Shut the door and sit down.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Maybe it was because they shared blood or magic but Eris knew something was wrong.

“Keir was here earlier,” he paused as if to build suspense, he did always have a flair for the dramatic.

“And?”

“Your darling Morrigan went and lost her virginity to an Illyrian so she wouldn’t have to marry you.” Beron let out a laugh, “who knew you were so undesirable.”

Something inside of Eris broke. It was his heart. Not because she lost her maidenhead to someone else, but out of fear for what his father will do to her. “I don’t believe you.” He told Mor not to do anything stupid. He told her to just wait.

“You don’t have to believe me. She’s waiting for you in the woods. Beron left her there. But who knows if she’s still alive, it’s been a couple of hours.” Eris stopped thinking. What did he mean, who knows if she’s still alive?

He jumped out of his seat and started sprinting. He was faster than a deer running from a predator with his Fae speed. He ran through the gigantic house, one right, three lefts, four rights and down a corridor until he got to the entrance and threw open the doors. He was screaming for her, “Mor! Mor! Can you hear me!” Eris was running for the woods, praying he wasn’t too late. Praying he still had a chance to see her again. In the tree line a hundred years away, he saw something move. And he smelt blood.

Eris was sprinting faster than the speed of lightning when he came upon her. There, lying half-covered in leaves and mud, was his mate… naked. Her beautiful, porcelain skin, all cut up. Her eyes black and her lips bloody. Keir had beaten her half to death and there on her stomach was a note, nailed into her.

She’s your problem now.

Eris thought he was going to be sick. He knelt down and brushed the hair from her eyes, taking off his cloak to wrap around her. “Mor, you’re going to be okay. Do you hear me? You’re going to be okay.” He needed to get her to a nurse but didn’t know how to move her without causing her to lose more blood. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his.

Mor’s voice was raw, “Eris,” she paused and a tear slipped down her cheek. He could feel her pain through the bond, he knew she was on death’s doorstep. But that wasn’t why she was crying. He knew what she was about to do, a tear fell from his eye in realization.

“Don’t say it Mor. Pl-please don’t say it.” Eris was crying now. “I can make this right, I promise.” He was holding her in his arms, praying someone would come find them. Mor let out a sob, tears mixing with the blood on her face, and started to speak.

“I reject you. I reject the bond.” Eris felt a snap inside of him. This couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t lose her.

“Mor please. You know I can’t help you if you say it, the laws forbid it. I need to help you. Please let me help you.” He was begging her. He had never begged for anyone else. Only her. He would only ever love her. Want her.

She took in a deep breath, “I reject you. I reject the bond.” Eris felt another string deep inside of him snap and when he looked at her, he could tell she felt it too. When she rejected the mating bond, they would still faintly be able to feel each other, males can feel it more than females, but there would be an emptiness inside both of them that no one else could ever fill. Eris didn’t want that.

Eris was whispering now, his eyes blurred from the tears he was shedding, “Mor. Please.” He knew it was pointless begging, Mor was as stubborn as they come. That’s why he loved her so much.

Mor, still staring into his eyes, let another tear slip. She lifted up her hand to touch his face, a farewell, he thought, before saying, “Eris Vanserra,” she paused, closing her eyes, “I reject you. I reject the bond.” The cord linking them together finally snapped. They both felt it. Felt the pain and emptiness inside of them now. Eris wept, gently retracting his hands from around her, and laid her back down onto the cold, hard ground.

Eris could sense his someone coming but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore. Not when there was a Morrigan-sized hole in his chest that used to be filled with laughter and beauty. Not when he lost the only thing that ever kept him from falling apart, hope.

He slowly stood, still not taking his eyes off of Mor. His brothers, he assumed, were behind him now.

“What do you want us to do with her,” Eris couldn’t tell who was speaking, he couldn’t comprehend anything. He spoke softly, afraid of hearing his voice crack.

“We have to leave her.” Another tear slipped from Eris’ eye. He stood still for another moment, hoping she would say something. She just laid there staring at him, silently begging him to leave. He could hear her heartbeat slowing, his heart breaking with it, as he turned to walk away.

Eris made his way across the 300 yards of grass leading to the house. Once inside, he headed to the closest chair available in the foyer, his brother’s trailing behind him. One of them poured a drink and handed it to him. “Don’t beat yourself up brother. It’s not your fault she whored herself to an Illyrian brute.” Eris’ brother’s laughed and he slowly turned his head.

“What did you just say?” Fire was crackling inside of him. He still didn’t know who he was talking to, all he could see was red.

“I said she’s a whore who went and fucked Cassian of all males. That’s low, even for a whore like her.” Eris exploded. One minute he was sitting and the next he was on top of his brother, beating him bloody. His fire magic was building up inside of him, about to be unleashed, looking for somewhere to strike. The male underneath him was trying to fight back but Eris had the element of surprise. His brother’s nose was broken and his face was so bloodied up, no one could tell who it was. Eris didn’t stop until he felt hands on his arms pulling him off.

Eris looked around the room, questioning what to do, but there was only one thought that came to mind. Eris didn’t think twice before he ran to the doors and back outside to get Mor.

Screw the laws, he thought. He couldn’t leave her out there. He couldn’t leave the female he had been chasing for years to die. She might not be his mate anymore but he still loved her. He loved her laugh and the golden-brown of her eyes. The color of her hair that somehow, exactly took the shade of sunlight. Her sarcasm and the way she never took no for an answer.

He ran the 300 yards in seconds, racing to the treeline where she had been lying, praying to the gods that her heart remained beating long enough for him to save her. He slowed to a stop looking for the female that made him a better male.

She was gone, leaving only a pile of blood in her wake and another scent he knew all too well. The scent of another male. The scent of the Shadowsinger.

Eris’ heart dropped and his soul came undone. He dropped to his knees and wept the last tears he would cry in five-hundred and nineteen years. He wept for hours, his magic building up in his veins until he was at a peak. His power unleashed from inside of him, incinerating everything within 100 yards of him. He burned and burned and burned, until nothing remained on the earth around him except ash. He reached the bottom of his magic and collapsed into what used to be Mor’s dried blood. It was there that he made vows to himself, the vows he would keep for the rest of his immortal life.

I will never open my heart again.

I will never show mercy again.

I will never hope again.

I will never love again.

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 10//

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XXX

The summit meeting was what we now called the annual meetings with the other High Lords (and Ladies) of Prythian, as well as our human alliances in the mortal lands. We kept the tradition of meeting at the Dawn Court Palace, as we had with our initial meeting before the war with Hybern. But with the threat of civil war in our court, the rest of the inner circle agreed it would be best to call on our allies early. We didn’t have time to wait now that the news of my pregnancy would soon spread throughout the court; and if our suspicions about Beron were correct, then the news and the threat we faced could extend into the other courts as well.

“We need to try and convince Tamlin to come. To the summit meeting,” I said to Rhys a few nights following our visit to Hewn City.

Upon our return back to Velaris, we finally broke the news to my sisters about the looming threat. They were both, surprisingly, calm about it. As I suspected, Nesta revealed she had pretty much guessed there was something brewing, and I couldn’t help but catch a glance over at a certain winged warrior. Elain’s reaction shocked us the most; she simply asked what our next move was, and when we all stared at her in equal amazement she only shrugged and told us she had a vision. 

I had almost forgotten of Elain’s seer abilities, and I silently asked her what the vision was of. She crossed her arms and shifted a bit uncomfortably as she recounted the vague details of a great-winged animal sweeping over a grassy knoll and a fast-beating heart pounding in the back of her mind. Unfortunately, that was all she saw, but knew it meant something was amiss.

With that matter settled, Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel disclosed to all of us how we would move forward. Once Kallon knew of my pregnancy, it was inevitable that his Illyrian armies would also learn of it and they would scramble to adjust their plans with Keir and his army. Based on the timeline the three of them put together, we originally had little more than a year of their continued secret meetings before Kallon would move his joint forces with Keir on the remaining Illyrian camps who opposed the coup. The new development would now shorten that to only give us a couple of months—at most. Keir and Kallon would want the coup to take place before any chance I had at giving birth; a fact that now haunted my mate, family, and I. With me being only a little over three months along, and approximately six months left, our enemies would strike early.

Which now led us to calling on our allies, our friendships we’d solidified in the last decade. Not only to ask for their support in bringing down this coup, but to announce my pregnancy to them as well. When Viviane announced that she and Kallias were expecting their child, they had invited us all—excluding Tamlin and Beron, to the Winter Court in order to celebrate together. We were all happy for them, and this was our chance to have the same support. Only, along with sharing the news that we were expecting, we would have to warn them of the potential threat they could face should the coup succeed. If Keir expected to take over as High Lord of the Night Court, any and all alliances that Rhys and I built would be shattered with his rule. The alliance the steward had with Beron would ignite distrust with the other courts, and they all may very well be targeted next.

This coup could not and would not succeed. If it did, every step of progress we had made in Prythian, and with our human alliances as well, could crumble. Keir and Kallon’s numbers were great, and if they indeed had Beron’s backing, then we alone would stand little chance to fight back. But with the other courts behind us, ready to fight with us again, the coup would be futile. However, as Rhys and I started working on the letters we would send out requesting to move up the summit meeting, I couldn’t help voicing the nagging feeling in the back of my mind about Tamlin and his continued reluctance to attend. He was currently at a standstill, and we had to rally him for us before our enemies could turn him over to their benefit.

“We send him a letter every year requesting his presence at the summit. He always declines,” Rhys replied from his desk as he continued to write the letter we would send to Thesan first.

I sighed from my spot on the chaise lounge across from his desk and stood, coming to slowly stand in front of it. “We need to do more than send a letter,” I pressed.

Rhys paused before setting down his pen and settling back in his chair in order to meet my gaze. “I’m listening.”

I fidgeted, “What if we went to him in person? We could give him an idea, not details, of what the summit meeting is about and convince him to come?”

He darkened, those male-bonded instincts flaring with his need to protect me and our child. “We?” He growled, standing.

I moved to place my hands on his chest gently and he relaxed at my touch. “If we go together, he’ll see how serious we are; how much we need him to be there this time,” I reassured.

“We don’t need his alliance, Feyre. We’ll have the other courts backing, our friends,” he said.

“If Beron is really working with Keir, which we know is very likely at this point, then we need as much help as possible. Not just from our friends,”

“We don’t need his help,” Rhys insisted.

“We might.”

He sighed heavily, his hands coming to rest on my hips as he looked down at my stomach, his thumbs rubbing the sides of the small mound. I slid my hands from his chest to his shoulders, watching the debate behind those violet, star-flecked eyes. He knew I was right, but every inclination in his body was screaming at him to shield me—us. He didn’t want to deny me, but I knew it was a risk to bring my mate before the male that had betrayed me—betrayed us, in the past; all while in the delicate condition I was currently in. Rhys could control himself, but a part of me knew that asking him to stand alongside his pregnant mate while confronting another hostile male might be pushing his preternatural instincts.

I would have to confront Tamlin on my own.

I once vowed that I never wanted to see him again; that I would never again set foot on Spring Court soil, but I went back once to protect my court and I would do it again. My home, my family, and my court, along with the other courts in Prythian, were in peril. If it took me alone to face Tamlin and convince him to join our cause, I could do it. 

I sighed as I pressed my forehead against Rhys’s, his conflicted gaze meeting mine. “Let’s try sending the letter first, and then...we’ll go from there.” I said.

His eyes searched mine for a minute before he pressed a lingering kiss to my brow and nodded in agreement. “We’ll re-evaluate once we get the response letters from everyone,” he said.

I smiled faintly, concurring with a tired sigh. “At least, on the bright side, we’ll be sharing some good news.”

He smirked, “I wonder if they’ll be as happy for us as they were for Kallias and Viviane.”

“Helion will make some joke about you finally producing offspring, and Tarquin might send us some kind of gift.” I replied.

Rhys chuckled and pulled me closer, “I never would’ve had children if it weren’t for you, my love. The thought hardly ever crossed my mind.”

My smile turned reserved as I thought of all the times he previously mentioned having children—only really having done so after the events of Under the Mountain. He knew we were mates back then, and despite believing I was another male’s bride, he still dreamed of the possibility.

“Then I came along, huh?” I asked softly.

“Oh, you did that and more Feyre darling,” he responded with a rogue grin, causing me to laugh wholeheartedly as he pressed a kiss to my lips.

XXX

“You want to go see Tamlin by yourself?” Elain asked in a quiet horror as she stared at me.

Nesta scoffed, “Does that mate of yours know about this?”

I rolled my eyes as I turned to face her. After our conversation last night and sending off the last of our letters to the other courts, I made the decision to go to the Spring Court without Rhys today. It was something I simply had to do on my own in order to persuade Tamlin to attend our emergency summit.

“No, he doesn’t, and that’s how I want it to stay.” I replied, glancing back at Elain as I said this. 

I asked my sisters to meet me in the library so I could discuss my plans with them. They were the only ones I knew who wouldn’t tell Rhys. The others would disapprove, especially Mor and Cassian and especially now that I was pregnant and vulnerable in their eyes. They would either insist on coming with me or try to talk me out of it. And as much as I hated to admit it, we would need Tamlin’s help again for this fight.

“But Feyre, he hates us. Are you sure he’ll even welcome you in?” Elain asked, genuinely concerned at the idea of being turned away at the border. 

I rested a hand on my stomach, “He won’t turn me away. Maybe at first, he’ll try, but,” I glanced down at my hand, “he’ll at least let me speak.” 

“So, you plan to use your pregnancy as leverage?” Nesta asked coldly.

“Would you rather I manipulate him again? Claim I’m being abused and seek solace in his arms, then somehow convince him to attend the summit and leave?” I bit back.

Elain cringed, but Nesta didn’t flinch. “He could choose to kill you and your baby on the spot if you show up unannounced,” she retorted.

“He won’t,” I said.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because he’s still in love with me,” I admitted. “I know it's been years, but I believe a part of him still does. Despite having a mate, and carrying another male’s child, he probably always will and because of that I know he’ll at least hear me out. If he still won’t attend the summit, I’ll at least know I tried.”

There was a moment of silence that followed between the three of us. We knew how important this summit meeting was. Nesta from firsthand experience, having attended our original meeting, along with the ones we established after the war. Elain having only been to a couple since she and Greyson still weren’t on speaking terms. These meetings were an opportunity for all of us as a continent to be united, and over the last decade we’d established some semblance of peace; now that peace was being threatened. Whether any of us liked it or not, we would all have to be united against those who sought to overthrow even one of us. While there was little hope of establishing a steady alliance with the Autumn Court, there was at least still a chance with the Spring Court.

Elain walked over to my side quietly. “Can you at least take Azriel with you? He can stay in the shadows unnoticed while you and Tamlin talk and step in if necessary,” she implored.

“Take Azriel and Cassian. Those brutes can monitor and protect you, if necessary,” Nesta insisted, her arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m not taking anyone. I can protect myself and the baby if I have to,”

“You can barely winnow, or use any of your powers for that matter, without collapsing.” Nesta pointed out.

“It’s a good thing I won’t need to then.”

“How can you be so sure?” Nesta snapped.

Elain and I both started at her sudden rage. Elain was used to Nesta’s overprotective behavior over her, but it shocked us both to see her so...overzealous with her sudden desire to protect me. Our relationship was...complicated, to say the least. The years following the war, especially after banishing her from Velaris and sending her to the Illyrian mountains with Cassian, was a bit strained. After she returned with Cassian, and after noting the bond between the pair, nobody dared mention it. I figured I would let them announce whatever relationship they had when they were ready. In the meantime, things between my eldest sister and I seemed better but still tense.

Over the years she spent more time with us, and eventually silently agreed to moving into our estate. She kept up her ever-present cold facade, but still ate every meal, celebrated (or at least her idea of celebration) every holiday, and attended every summit meeting with us. While she and Elain technically had no official title in our court, they were still a part of the Inner Circle. Since announcing that I was pregnant, however, I noticed more of a change in Nesta. While never admitting it outright, she continued to monitor my condition every week.

She...cared. About me, and about the baby.

I softened and reached a tentative hand to place on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before looking back at Elain. “I just need you two to trust me. I’ll winnow myself to the Spring Court when Rhys, Azriel and Cassian leave for the mountains after lunch. In the meantime, cover for me. If I’m not back by dinner, then you let the others know where I am.” I explained.

Elain was about to protest before I cut in carefully, “If I’m not back by then, it’ll be because I couldn’t winnow myself back. In which case, I’ll communicate that with Rhys. You’ll only have to tell them in the worst-case scenario, which won’t happen. I promise.”

I dared a look at Nesta, who had squared her shoulders and recomposed her icy facade. She finally nodded in approval, and we both looked at Elain for her assent. She hesitated for a few seconds before acknowledging as well. 

“I trust you Feyre, of course I do...just please be careful. For your sake, and the baby’s.” Elain said, glancing down at my stomach.

“We’ll be alright.” I said, soothing her anxiety with a gentle squeeze of her hand.

 X

A few hours later I bid my sisters farewell after we had lunch together, and after the three Illyrian males left for the plans Rhys had set for them in the mountains. They would be “popping” in for a surprise visit at the Ironcrest camp under the guise of sharing reports with Kallon. It worked as a great excuse to spend time with my sisters, which was what I told Rhys before he left. Mor and Amren were busy with their own responsibilities as second and third in command, and my disappearance would, hopefully, go unnoticed.

I reassured Nesta and Elain of my safety one last time before summoning up what little powers I had in order to winnow myself to the Spring Court border. Out of an abundance of caution (and some convincing on Nesta’s behalf) I technically landed on Summer Court territory. But after using what energy I had reserved, I stumbled onto Spring soil and leaned against a large oak for support. The world spun upon my landing and continued to spin for several minutes afterwards. My stomach roiled violently, and I realized then that it probably wasn’t the wisest decision to travel after just having lunch.

I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to render my surroundings immobile, but when things finally calmed, my eyes shot back open as I ducked behind a nearby bush to hurl up all of my stomach's contents. So far, I wasn’t off to such a great start.

“Feyre?” A familiar male voice asked, thoroughly confused. 

I groaned from my spot behind the bushes and stood slowly to face Lucien, who was now dismounting his horse and rushing to my aid.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asked, taking my arm as he helped me upright.

I moaned with a cringe, his grip pulling me up too fast and I tore away from him just in time as another brutal wave of nausea hit and I turned back towards the bush. I heard him sigh before he came back over to gently pull back my hair, waiting for me to finish. Once my sickness passed, I did my best to appear normal before turning back to him.

“Hi,” I rasped.

Lucien frowned, helping to steady me as I faced him. “Feyre, what’s wrong? What are you doing here? Do you know what’ll happen if Tamlin finds out?”

I shook my head, slowly. “I’m fine, Lucien. Tamlin is who I came here to see.”

His face fell, “Did something happen with Rhys, or the others? Is Elain okay?” he asked, alarmed.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. “Elain is fine, and nothing happened Lucien. I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I’m here because I had a falling out with my mate.”

“Well what am I supposed to believe?” He asked incredulously, “You show up here unannounced, looking like hell-"

“I’m pregnant,” I said, cutting him off.

He stared at me, appalled. “And... its Rhys’s...?”

“Lucien!”

“Well again, what am I supposed to believe!” He snapped.

I sighed in exasperation, finally starting to feel some of my wits return, but my knees were still weak as the full effect of winnowing was starting to weigh on me and I tried to subtly lean against a tree in order to keep myself upright. “I came here to talk to Tamlin and convince him to attend the emergency summit meeting Rhys and I called,” I explained.

“Vassa got the letter this morning. So did Tamlin,” he confirmed, taking my arm again for support.

I exhaled a deep breath as I let him lead me over to a nearby tree stump. I sat slowly with his help, “He needs to come this year. It's important,” I continued.

“My guess is it has something to do with you being pregnant? And not just some formal announcement?” Lucien asked.

I nodded and took a few more deep breaths in order to regain my stamina. Lucien hesitated before scooping me up carefully in his arms and walked us to his horse.

“You shouldn’t be winnowing in your condition, Feyre, it's dangerous.” He said as he helped me into the saddle.

“How did you know that?” I asked after getting settled, raising a brow.

He grabbed the reins and started leading the horse in the direction of Tamlin’s estate, “My mother was pregnant several times, as I matured she shared some knowledge with me...in the event that I should ever be fortunate enough to have any offspring, and be...empathetic towards my wife, or mate.” He explained, keeping his eyes forward.

I stared at him carefully, watching as his composure shifted while he spoke as he thought of Elain. The mention of offspring would no doubt trigger the thought of his mate, and I waited for an inevitable question about my sister. It had been almost a year since his last visit to Velaris, and though she tried not to ignore him as much, she still wasn’t anywhere near ready to accept their mating bond. She did her best to be friendly with Lucien after we moved into the estate, but I could tell how grateful she was that he decided to keep his distance and spent most of his time with Vassa and Jurian.

“She really is fine, just so you know. Excited to be an aunt,” I said, moving a hand to rest on my stomach.

He nodded and I saw his mechanical eye whir subtly as he scanned over my form. “Are you and Rhys excited?” He asked.

I caressed my swollen abdomen, “Yes. We’ve actually been trying for a while...” I admitted.

“I see,” he said carefully.

“I know you’re as skeptical as always Lucien, but I didn’t come all this way for no good reason.”

“Why not send Rhysand?”

“Because I can handle my own business with Tamlin.” 

Lucien sighed, “I’m just not sure how well Tamlin will react.”

I shifted in the saddle, “It’s not like he’ll hurt me.” I paused, “Right?”

“No of course not,” he reassured. “It’s just been a long time since you’ve seen each other. Last time was after the war, and he...wasn’t okay, for a while.”

I tried not to make a snide remark at that, instead looking up as we approached Tamlin’s manor; staring with wide eyes the closer we got. On his past visits, Rhys informed me of how dismantled the estate was—Tamlin having nearly destroyed it after I left for the Night Court a second time, and then leaving it to rot after the war. Now it stood just as pristine and proud as I remembered. Large rose bushes adorning the front driveway, ivy vines crawling up alabaster stone walls and wrapping around the columns to the front entrance delicately. I took a few leveled breaths, trying to settle my nerves as the full weight of where I found myself fell on my shoulders. I had to remind myself that I was only here temporarily. I wasn’t and wouldn’t be trapped within those walls ever again.

I’m free. Just breathe.

I was grateful Lucien did his best not to pay me any attention as I continued to work to calm myself through more deep breaths. This time being in the Spring Court felt different—uneasy; maybe because this time I was carrying Rhys’s child or because it had been years rather than months since I stepped foot onto this territory. I had resigned to never returning; of never seeing Tamlin alone again, and although this time was as much for my people as it was before, I couldn’t help feeling...panicked. I slipped my eyes shut as I continued to breathe, but my breath hitched a bit when I felt that familiar flutter in the pit of my stomach. I looked down at the small swell and placed a reassuring hand over it.

We’re okay baby. I promise.

Lifting my gaze from my stomach, I went rigid the second I was met with a pair of golden-flecked green eyes staring at me from the front steps of the driveway.

[takingcourage]

Miscalculations: A Witness AU

Chapter Four

Catch up here:  Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Pairing: M!Cassian x MC

Word Count: 3,050

Series Summary: After years apart, fate brings Kellen and Cassian together a third time. Can they learn from the mistakes of the past, or are they destined to repeat them once more?

Note: Five parts down, five parts to go! Thank you for all of your support with this series so far -- I’ve had a blast writing it, and it means a lot to know that others enjoy it too. : ) 

If Cassian thought his anxiety was high in anticipation of seeing Kellen, it was through the roof as he waited to meet his son. The entire morning was torture, even with the extra-long workout he’d designed as a distraction. By the time his Uber dropped him off across the city, he was actively fighting the outward signs of his nerves. 

Yet under the nerves, something more potent was stirring: regret. 

If only he’d tried harder three years ago. If only the job in Jamaica hadn’t taken so long to complete. If only Kellen hadn’t been utterly impossible to contact, they might be living under very different circumstances right now. Perhaps they would have defined their relationship to something more permanent. Maybe I even would have asked her to marry me... 

Cassian stopped himself before he thought too much further down that path. Talking Kellen Reed into commitment was a fool’s errand. The more likely possibility was that things still wouldn’t have worked out, and that the distance between them now would have be deliberate rather than accidental. Perhaps it was a good thing that they hadn’t made a go of it before. 

But any potential bright side was hard to see when he was still reconciling himself to the idea of having a two-year-old who’d gone all of this time without a father. 

He rubbed his sweaty palms against his thighs, hoping that the action wouldn’t leave any stains behind on the denim. He had to make a good impression. 

While he hated the notion that access to his son was a privilege, he understood where Kellen was coming from. If it meant getting to see Owen, he would play by all of her rules and exceed every one of her expectations. This meeting needed to prove to her that he was worth the time and effort required to be part of their child’s life -- and hers, if she was willing. 

A sleek crossover pulled into a small space along the road, and a quick glance through the windshield was enough to confirm that it was Kellen. With a final swipe of his hands, Cassian stood up from the bench and ventured toward the vehicle. 

“Afternoon!” he called, hoping not to startle her as she walked around to the back to detach their son from his carseat. He’d always prided himself on his ability to keep cool in the midst of any circumstance, but Kellen’s effect on him had a tendency to be anything but calming. Taking a step closer, he slipped his hand into his pocket to draw attention away from the way it was shaking. 

“Hey there!” she returned before almost disappearing into the car. She emerged several seconds later with a toddler in her arms. Still a couple of yards away, all Cassian could see of his son was the abundance of curls that blanketed his head. The small face was burrowed deep into Kellen’s shoulder and hidden from his view. 

Cassian’s features broke into a wide smile, and he suppressed the urge to laugh. He hadn’t doubted the child’s parentage, but that crop of hair was proof that their kid was more than just a clone of Kellen. The realization gave him more pleasure than he cared to admit. Withdrawing the hand from his pocket, he scratched the stubble on his jaw and tried not to seem like a ginning fool. 

“Excuse us,” she apologized, gesturing toward the bench he’d just vacated. “Naptime was a little rough today.” 

“No worries,” he answered lamely. Cassian joined her on the seat, careful to leave several inches of space between them. He tried to give them distance, but it was difficult to look away from the pair of them. “I sometimes feel that way when I wake up too.” 

Rubbing the boy’s back, Kellen shot him a knowing look that trampled all over his insides. She’d always been attractive, but the sight of her now, holding their son in her arms and smiling back at him, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His pulse stuttered as he watched them further. 

She bounced Owen gently, brushing the hair away from his ear to murmur words that were too faint for Cassian to make out. What was perfectly obvious was the depth of love she had for the child. He couldn’t say what he’d been expecting, but her tender display took him by surprise. 

With a bit more coaxing, the boy finally worked up the courage to push himself away from his mother’s tight hold. He leaned back, still balanced on her knees, and Cassian caught a flash of green as the boy stole a curious glimpse.

Kellen shifted slightly so that her companions were in full view of each other. “Owen, this is mama’s friend, Mr. Keane.”

His stomach tightened like a vice. I’m your dad. He wanted to gather the boy into his arms for a proper introduction. Instead, he held his tongue and sat firm. Blinking back tears, he tried to focus on the scene unfolding before him. 

“Can you say Mr. Keane?” she prompted further. 

“McGee.” 

In spite of his unsteady emotions, Cassian laughed at the unpracticed attempt. His son had a sweet, guileless voice. He leaned closer, hanging on every moment in hopes of hearing it again. 

“Mister,” Kellen formed the word patiently, looking straight into his eyes. Owen followed her movements intently.

“Mih-duh”

“Keane.” 

“Key.” 

“You’ve got it, big guy. High five!” Kellen celebrated his success with a smile, holding the palm of her hand in front of her stomach. Owen smacked it with relish. 

His shyness completely forgotten, the toddler turned his attention to Cassian with an open-mouthed smile that was infectious enough to spread across the entire bench. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Cassian managed against the pang of longing that constricted his chest. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a child with such a ready grin. 

The toddler babbled back an approximation of the platitude. 

“We’re still working on that one,” Kellen explained. “Hey, Owen?” She hesitated slightly before continuing. “I’ll bet Mr. Keane would like to have a high five. Do you want to show him how you do it?”

If his attention hadn’t been trained on the two of them, Cassian would never have noticed the interruption. Still, it wasn’t hard to guess what had caused it. As much as he was enjoying this meeting, it wasn’t fully comfortable for him or for Kellen. Uncertain how else to reassure her, he found her eyes with what he hoped was an encouraging gaze. 

Still smiling, Owen gave a lively nod and lifted his hand in preparation. 

After another quick look toward the boy’s mother, Cassian stretched an arm across the bench. The tiny hand made contact with his palm before sliding down over his fingers, and it was all he could do to keep from grasping them before they left his touch completely. Every interaction he’d had with his son was leaving him impatient for more. 

“Thanks, Owen.” The name still felt somewhat stilted on his tongue, but the child didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he bounced his legs and began pushing his way out of his mother’s arms. 

“Ready to play?” 

Pulling her hand, he confirmed his answer to her question. 

“Let’s go.” 

Following a couple of steps behind, Cassian journeyed with the pair of them to the closest slide. As he watched Owen confidently climb the jungle gym, Kellen attentive in case he needed help, his chest ached again with the deeper knowledge of his loss. He hated that this was their first outing to the park as a family. He hated even more the countless other milestones he hadn’t even realized he’d missed. 

Drawing a deep breath, he tried to persuade himself to live in the present: to stay focused on what he had now. But even when he did survey what was before him, it was impossible to silence the worry that Kellen could still change her mind. Nothing was certain. 

Owen took several trips down the slide, each with Kellen’s careful grip there to guide him. As quickly as his interest came, it soon waned in favor of the gravel pit several yards away. 

“We play in the rocks a lot, don’t we?” She asked as they followed his quick pace. The look she threw over her shoulder told Cassian that the question was more for his benefit than any other reason. He inclined his head gratefully in return. 

“Trucks?”

“Not today,” she answered. “We can bring them next time.” 

Conscious as he was not to overstep Kellen’s boundaries, Cassian couldn’t resist joining in the conversation. “Do you have lots of trucks?”

“Uh-huh.” Owen responded proudly. His curls bobbed with each step, producing a mesmerizing rhythm. 

“Dump trucks?” he tried further. 

“Yeah!”

Growing more confident, the next question rolled off his tongue quickly. “Do ya have a fire truck?”

Without warning, Owen’s face crumpled, and Cassian stepped back in alarm. He knew that toddlers could be sensitive, but nothing in his question should have produced such a violent reaction.

Beside him, Kellen sucked a breath and checked their destination. “Oh boy.” 

At the sight of the pair of grade schoolers taking up residence on the gravel excavators, Owen’s discontent soon developed into full-fledged crying. By the time Cassian risked another look at his son, there were visible streaks down each of his reddened cheeks. 

“C’mon, bud. It’s time to check out the swings,” Kellen suggested, taking the crisis in stride. His tears intensified momentarily as she scooped him into her arms, but he was fully appeased by the time she’d eased him into an empty bucket swing.

“He’s almost as headstrong as you are.” 

Between pushes, Kellen cocked her head toward him with an acquiescent smile. “At lot of that just comes with being two.”

He chuckled at the matter-of-fact response. “So it does.” 

The exchange over, they fell into silence. Owen jabbered to himself contentedly, occasionally stretching out a hand as he approached to try to catch his mother’s fingers. 

“You’ve done a great job with him, Kellen,” Cassian praised gently, risking a step closer.  

“There’s been a lot of trial and error.”

“It’s that way with any kid -- especially the first. Ma always called me her experiment.” 

“But she knows you turned out alright.” She pushed the swing a couple more times, voice dropping low as she continued. “Owen’s a good kid.”

“I can tell. I’ll bet you’ve already got him counting to a hundred.” 

Kellen turned toward him again, volume increasing with her enthusiasm. “He’s a little young for that, but we have been practicing 6-10 recently.”

“Already mastered the first 5?” His heart lightened as he posed the question, feeling a sense of their former camaraderie. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed their conversations. 

“It’d be criminal for me not to teach him numbers,” she insisted, nose crinkling up at the notion. “Besides, I’ve got my eye on a really good preschool for next year. Their entrance requirements are pretty steep.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish. You wouldn’t believe how competitive the kindergartens are around here.”

He fell quiet, wondering how many similar decisions she’d had to make on her own over the past three years. As he noticed the determined glint in Kellen’s eye, he couldn’t help hoping that her days of doing everything alone were over.

“Do you want a turn?” she asked suddenly, stepping aside so that he could take her place in front of the swing.

“I’d love one.” 

Owen’s apprehension regarding the change was written across his face, but any hesitation soon dissolved under Cassian’s charms. The man greeted each incoming swing with an increasingly ridiculous face, and it wasn’t long until Owen was squealing with laughter every time he approached.

"He’s always loved to swing,” Kellen observed. “You should have seen him when he was a baby. He’d...” catching herself, the rest of her sentence faltered.

“He’d what?” Cassian implored, eager to know as much as she was wiling to share.

Kellen’s eyes darted to his face before training on her son. “He wanted to be in his baby swing all the time. It was the only way I could get him to--”

“Down!” Owen cut in. 

Kellen stepped up to catch the swing, slowly returning it to the bottom of its arc before she lifted him out. Owen ran from the playground without a second thought, intent on the gravel pit they’d abandoned before. Conversation seemingly forgotten, Kellen followed the boy’s trail. 

Despite his curiosity, Cassian didn’t prod any further. In time, he hoped she’d open up about all the things he missed. In the meanwhile, he’d have to content himself with making memories of his own. 

“Dig!” Owen demanded, intent on the excavator toy stationed in the middle fo the rock pile. 

“It’s still pretty big for you,” Kellen explained, “Let’s just play on the side.” 

“Do you mind if I try something?”

She glanced back at him, but answered after a beat. “Go ahead.” 

Cassian caught up to Owen within a pair of strides. “Can I dig with ya?”

"Dig?” A tiny hand raised to lead him toward the excavator, and Cassian took it with glee, a spark of warmth climbing up his arm from where their fingers were connected. 

The equipment was clearly intended for older children, but it was nothing Cassian couldn’t work around. He perched on the seat, testing to see if it could handle his weight. 

When it held, he lifted Owen up to sit on his thighs. With Cassian supporting his torso, the toddler was just able to reach the handles. Pushing both of them forward, he grunted with the struggle of bringing them back up again. 

“Mama! I dig!”

“I see that,” she answered good-naturedly, finding a seat on the other excavator so that she could watch more closely. 

In spite of the challenge, it was easy to see that Owen was having the time of his life. If he was honest, Cassian was too. With the weight of his son on his lap and the sound of his chatter ringing in his ears, he never wanted it to stop. He would be entirely content to cling to him and never let him go. 

But the two-year-old’s attention span didn’t allow for much sentimentality. All too soon, Owen was squirming to be put back on solid ground so he could get his hands on the gravel. As the boy began digging through the mountain of rocks, Cassian took the opportunity to return to Kellen’s side. She surprised him by speaking first. 

“You know what you’re doing,” she commended. He felt his cheeks color at the hint of admiration in her voice. 

“Having five younger siblings’ll teach ya a lot.” 

Brows arched, she shot him an incredulous look. “I don’t know how your mother did it.” 

“Neither do I. She’s an incredible woman.” He lowered into a squat so that he could be closer to her level. From this angle, her eyes seemed dark as the sea, and the uncertainty buried in their depths was almost palpable. He changed topics, hoping he could ease some of it. “Kellen, I want to be as involved in Owen’s life as you’ll let me. I know what it’s like not to have a dad around. I don’t want my kid to have to go through that too.”

Kellen’s jaw clicked into place as she contemplated his words. “I don’t either.”

Chest sagging with relief at her admission, he was just opening his mouth to speak when she continued. 

“But how do I know you’re not going to run out on us again?” 

Her tone had been sarcastic, but there was no denying the underlying pain that drove the words. “I never ran out on you,” he assured with a voice that was faint despite the certainty of his convictions. 

“That’s what it felt like...” Her cheeks flushed as she watched Owen scatter a handful of rocks into his lap. 

“Kellen, I--”

“Look, I’m not trying to pick a fight. This is just hard.” Her lip quivered as she gathered her thoughts. “I’m trying to do what’s best for Owen.” 

“That’s all I want.” Cassian let the words fall between them. “If having me in his life isn’t what’s best for him--” 

He was profoundly grateful that she didn’t let him finish the sentence. 

“I didn’t say that.” She interrupted, tucking her hair behind her ear as she stood. “But we need to take this a week at a time.” 

“Sure,” he agreed, straightening his back to stand next to her. It wasn’t quite what he’d hoped for, but it was reasonable enough for him not to push further. Even so, some part of him worried that she hadn’t taken his assurance to heart. “I mean it, Kellen,” he repeated. “I’m not leaving. I’m in this for the long haul.” 

The woman nodded, but he could tell she was still conflicted. When she moved to Owen’s side a moment later, he hung back to give them space. 

She made their excuses a short time later, insisting that they had errands to run and a big week to prepare for. Biting back his disappointment, Cassian accepted his son’s enthusiastic high five goodbye and Kellen’s promise to be in touch about a subsequent park visit the following weekend. 

When they had left, he made his way back to the bench to wait for his rideshare. His head falling forward, he fixated on the fine dust beneath his feet. 

His thoughts formed a tangle of contradictions: hope and disappointment, elation and fear. His head could hardly hold the weight of them. More than anything, however, he felt desperate. He needed Kellen and their son to be part of his life, and he wanted much more than occasional playdates at the park.  

Idly pinching the bands of his bracelet, he let out a measured breath. There was still hope of making everything right. Kellen wouldn’t have mentioned a second meeting if there weren’t. Feeling the first trickle of resolve, he lifted his eyes from the ground and cast an unseeing eye on his surroundings. 

He was going to prove himself, no matter how many park outings it took.

[scruffyhappaboreherder]

This is for @thereigning-lorelai, who supplied this prompt:

When your soul finds the soul it was waiting for When someone walks into your heart through an open door When your hand finds the hand it was meant to hold Don't let go

(from Demi Lovato's "Heart by Heart")

Content and other warnings

soulmate AU, with soulmarks caused by a virus

author knows very little about virology

among other issues the reasons for the creation of the virus were eugenicist and so there is some of that rhetoric

allusions to unethical medical experimentation

author quotes some canon dialogue and rewrites other parts

mention of characters from Rebel Rising

minor reliance on the novelization

~2k words.

----------------

Whatever I Do

At first, it seemed like a mild, ordinary skin condition.

The index case appeared on Coruscant.  A few senators and some members of their staff reported an itching sensation, followed by a rash, usually appearing on the arms.  Physicians and med-droids examined them, but the tests they ran were negative for all known pathogens.

After a few days, the rash healed.  In most cases, there was nothing left to show that it had ever been there.  In one out of a hundred cases, however, vividly contrasting marks remained even after the itching subsided.  It was only when one of the doctors attached to the Senate noticed that two of her patients had identically-shaped marks that it attracted any particular attention outside the medical community.

The two patients, a senator and a diplomat from planets in the Mid Rim, were married within a year.  Others found that they developed marks after months or years, and a few other such matches were made.

As the phenomenon spread to other communities on other worlds, some wondered if it was a manifestation of the Force.  Others argued against it: the marks only appeared on the arms of human couples.  Invariably, the couples comprised a male-assigned and a female-assigned member.  While there were no Jedi left to consult, the lore of most sects held that the Force acted upon beings of all races.

Still, those who ended up with identical marks on their arms seemed to share a romantic compatibility.  The marks were dubbed soulmarks, the couples who bore them were popularly referred to as soulmates, and the speculation about the cause of the phenomenon continued.

Almost no one noticed the disappearance of research scientist Galen Erso and his family shortly after the first soulmarks appeared.  Those who did knew better than to speak of it.

-----------------

As the child of a project member, Jyn Erso had been infected with the virus shortly after laboratory testing indicated that the latest version was stable and would behave as expected.  This had been done without her parents' knowledge, but soon after she was infected, her parents had fled Coruscant.  He wondered, as he had before, if they had absconded to keep their child out of the reach of the project, or because Galen Erso no longer wished to participate, and knew that resignation was not an option.

It didn't really matter, in the end.  It had taken years, but Jyn Erso was available to the project again.  They could question and study her.  They had questioned and studied the young man they had captured with her, but it seemed that there was nothing special about him; for Jyn Erso, he was the sort of partner choice that the virus had been designed to prevent.

------------------

"What have you heard?"  Cassian tried to keep his voice soothing.

"It's a virus."  Tivik's steps sped up.  "I have to leave."

"What kind of virus?"

"I don't know!  A cargo pilot defected.  He says it has to do with soulmarks.  That it's a virus that makes them."

"Soulmarks?"  What did soulmarks have to do with anything?

"The pilot said Galen Erso sent him.  An old friend of Saw's."

The sound of stormtroopers' boots approached, then paused outside the alleyway he'd drawn Tivik into.  "What's all this?"

-------------------

Jyn slumped on the bench in her cell.  The light was glaring, as it almost always was.  She'd lost track of how many days it had been since Hadder had disappeared from the cell across from hers.  Akshaya had been taken away weeks before that.

The door beeped as its reader granted someone access.  She didn't bother looking up.

"Stand up."

"You can take my blood without that."

"I'm not here for blood.  You need to come with me."

Jyn looked up.  It was a man she hadn't seen before, wearing an ill-fitting orderly's outfit.  "Fine."  She stood and let him steer her out of the cell.  When they were in the main hallway, she broke out of his hold easily and elbowed him in the face, and ran away, toward the emergency evacuation door.

She'd just flung open the door when something grabbed her by the throat and flung her to the ground.

"This is an extraction.  Please do not resist."

She stared up at the droid, unable to speak.

---------------------

The man looked at her like she was something he'd stepped in and needed to scrape from his boots.  "Jyn Erso.  Daughter of Galen Erso, known collaborator in Imperial biomedical research."

"Who are you?" Jyn asked warily.

"The Alliance to Restore the Republic," said the woman in white.  "We hope that we can help eachother."  Mon Mothma.  That was Mon Mothma.

Jyn snorted.  "Are you looking for some blood samples?  There are more of you than there are of me.  You'll get what you want eventually, one way or another."

The woman left her place at the table; Jyn watched her approach with narrowed eyes.  She pushed up the sleeve of her gown, and Jyn saw a mark shaped like a rough quarter-circle with three spiky rays issuing from it.  "The exposure of my connection to the Alliance wasn't the only reason I fled Coruscant."  She put her sleeve back into place, and glanced away.  No: toward the man who stepped from the shadows where she'd been looking.  

"We want to make contact with your father," said the man from the shadows.

"This is Captain Cassian Andor, Alliance Intelligence," Mon Mothma explained.

"I haven't seen him in fifteen years.  As far as I'm concerned, he might as well be dead."

"Better dead than an Imperial collaborator?"  He paused.  "When was the last time you had contact with Saw Gerrera?"

"Years ago."

"But he would remember you, speak with you.  If you came as a friend."

"We don't have time to chase stray nerfs, girl, so if you won't cooperate, we'll put you in another cell."  That was the disdainful man who'd spoken first.

"I don't know where to find Saw."

"We know where he is," said the captain.  "We need someone who he'll talk to, and not shoot out of hand."

"You're all rebels, aren't you?"

"Saw has refused to work with the Alliance since it was formed.  His extremism has rendered the Alliance illegitimate in the eyes of many.  But we have no choice, now.  He has crucial information about your father, and we need to find him."  Mon Mothma looked at her gravely.

"What does my father have to do with anything?"

"There's an Imperial pilot in Jedha who was captured by Saw Gerrera.  He claims the Empire is creating a virus that has something to do with the soulmarks.  The pilot says he was sent by your father."  The captain's sharp eyes watched her for reactions; she held herself still.

"We don't have a clear picture the Empire's motivations in creating the virus, but we know that it reduces freedom of choice in many areas.  We can't allow it to spread throughout the galaxy, especially if they've developed a more effective version."  Mon Mothma rubbed her arm.

"Captain Andor's mission is to confirm the pilot's story, and to trace your father, if possible."  As if I care, you sneering creep.

"Our intelligence suggests that your father is the chief designer of this virus.  We hope that you can persuade Saw to help us locate your father, and bring him before my colleagues in the Senate to testify."

"Why should I do it?"

Mon Mothma rubbed her arm again.  "We'll make sure you go free."

---------------------

Cassian shook his head as they took off.  He had Kay for backup, but he was going into a war zone with a woman who was clearly traumatized by medical torture.

He would treat her like any other informant: try to put her at ease and make her feel like she could trust him.  He brushed the thought of Tivik away.

He turned to look at her and saw that she was sleeping.  Well, if she needed rest, it was best that she get it.

----------------------

Once they were walking toward Jedha, he decided to start a conversation.

"I'm glad you can use a blaster," he allowed.  "You're right that we're heading into a war zone."

She shrugged.

"Thank you for proving Kay-Too wrong and not using it against me."

"I wouldn't have gotten very far if I did.  Your droid demonstrated that when your guy showed up to break me out."

"Kay has been good backup ever since I reprogrammed him.  I hope he didn't hurt you."

"I've had worse."

----------------------

Jyn shuddered involuntarily as the hologram of her father appeared.  She was frozen, immobile, as he talked about loving her and missing her.

"There is a countervirus," he was saying.  "And a vaccine.  Krennic's superiors insisted that I make one, just in case the virus was transmitted to someone who they thought was unworthy, or to someone who could insist on their freedom of choice.  The records exist, in the Citadel Tower on Scarif."

----------------------

"We can stop this," Jyn Erso insisted.  "They call it the Choice Virus.  But they have no idea that my father is telling the Alliance how to stop it.  You're wrong about him."

"He did create the virus."

"He knew they'd do it without him.  He made a choice.  He sent Bodhi with the information that there's a vaccine and a countervirus."

"Give me the message."  

"It was a hologram," she said desperately.

"You don't have it."

"You don't believe me."  Her voice was flat.

"I'm not the one who decides."  He's going to have to follow orders and kill her father.

"You said there was a countervirus," Baze Malbus observed.

"A countervirus and a vaccine.  The records are on Scarif.  You need to send word to the Alliance."

"I have."

"They have to know there's a way to stop the virus.  They have to go to Scarif."

"I can't send that.  We're in the heart of Imperial territory."

"Then we'll find my father.  And bring him back, and he can tell them himself."

----------------------

Jyn clambered up on the platform and ran to the motionless man.  "Papa.  Papa, it's me.  It's Jyn."

"Stardust."

"I've seen your message.  The hologram, I've seen it."

"The virus must be stopped.  For you ... for everyone."

"I know.  I know.  We will."

"Jyn.  Stardust.  I have so much to tell you."  He reached up, and his hand touched her cheek weakly, and then fell away.

"Papa?  Papa.  No!"  She shook him, but he remained still and mute.

A hand gripped her shoulder.  "Jyn.  Come on.  We've got to go."  It was Andor.

"I can't leave him."

"Listen to me.  He's gone.  There's nothing you can do.  Come on."  He pulled her to her feet, and she stumbled away from her father's body, following the rebel even though she didn't know where he was leading.

My father is dead.  My father is dead.  The volume of the thought gradually decreased, and her mind ground into motion, and she turned on Andor.

He tried to tell her that he'd been fighting and following orders since she was a child, as if she hadn't done the same thing and learned exactly what happened when you did.

Suddenly the Rebellion is real for you.

But was it?

It had always been real.  It had been a long time since it mattered.

She took a deep breath, and prepared to address the Council.

----------------

"They prefer to surrender," she told Baze and Chirrut.  A remark that "The Empire has the means of biological warfare; the Rebellion does not" and Mon Mothma's hollow apology still echoed in her mind.

----------------

She and Cassian exchanged glances as they went up the ramp to the stolen shuttle.  We're going to die doing this.  But we're going to do it.

Some of them do die.  But she and Cassian make it out.  They have the process for the countervirus, and the vaccine, and the virus itself.

----------------

Cassian sat next to Jyn in the makeshift isolation room.  They'd both been cleared to leave their individual cells once Too-Onebee and Harter Kalonia determined that he and Jyn had been unharmed by the vaccine and the treatment respectively, but it was fascinating to watch the little trickle of Council members stream in to receive their injections, starting with Mon Mothma.  The Alliance is synthesizing and stockpiling the vaccine and the treatment, in case of future need.

"Imagine if all the people who think that soulmates are romantic could see this."

Her hand closed around his.  "Oh, I think romance is still out there in the galaxy."  She brushed his shoulder with hers, closing the distance between them, and he leaned against her.  "And soulmates, too."