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achaotichuman · 17 hours ago

Text

...or at least keep going until dawn?

For @emerieweekofficial Day Two: Soul of a warrior.

Summary:

She’d keep going. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t, she would. She'd cleave this mountain in two with her bare bloodied hands if that’s what it took.

The Blood Rite is nearly finished. With Dawn just on the horizon, and the last stretch of the Breaking out before them, victory is right within sight. But the Illyrian males behind them are faster than Gwyn, who wouldn't be able to make the last of the journey before the three Valkyrie were torn into by dozens who wanted their heads.

They're trapped between a rock and a hard place, someone needs to stay as the last defence, and someone needs to take Gwyn and make the last of the treacherous climb.

Nesta and Emerie say goodbye, and then, Emerie pushes herself beyond her limits, and conquers the Breaking.

A/N:

This fic covers the last part of the Rite from Emerie's POV when she carries Gwyn through the rest of the Rite. I've kept the first half of the fic canon compliant, however, instead of the Stone transporting Emerie and Gwyn to the River House, I had it take them to Emerie's shop to have a more in depth look into both Emerie and Gwyn's character and relationship. As I wanted to explore how they would react to the possibility of losing Nesta, and how they would support each other.

Anyway, hope yall enjoy!!!

Read on Ao3 or below the cut!

Something deep in Nesta’s chest cracked. Cracked open completely, and what lay within bloomed, full and bright and pure.

She wrapped her arms around Gwyn. Let her friend sob into her chest. “I’ll face it with you,” Gwyn whispered, over and over again. “Promise me we’ll face it together.”

Nesta couldn’t stop her tears then. The chill wind froze them on her cheeks. “I promise,” she breathed, stroking Gwyn’s matted hair. “I promise.”

Gwyn sobbed, and Nesta let herself sob with her, squeezing her tightly. Letting her stroking hand come to rest on Gwyn’s neck.

A pinch in the right spot, exactly on that pressure point Cassian has shown her, and it was done.

Gwyn went down. Unconscious.

Nesta grunted, carefully lowering Gwyn to the ground as she peered up at Emerie. Her friend’s face was grave but unsurprised.

Nesta only said, “Can you carry her the rest of the way?” It would be a feat in itself. “Or at least keep going until dawn?”

“I will.”

She would. She saw Nesta, her arms still holding their friend so tightly. Gwyn’s matted ginger hair splayed over Nesta’s bloody flesh. Silver fire burned bright as the North star in her eyes, this was resolution, a last rush of determination. Even as Emerie’s heart shattered over and over with every passing breath, she should have known that they would not make it out of this together.

But maybe, maybe at the very least, Emerie could protect one of them.

Her whole life had been spent carving out her own path. Making her way in a world that was dead-set on forcing her down another road. Then one day, a High Fae with a sort of sadness came into her shop, and a new path opened before her.

She wasn’t able to protect her mother, she had barely been able to protect herself. But now, she would protect Gwyn, and maybe, she might be able to protect Nesta, in the one way she could.

Emerie kneeled down, laying her sword across the cool snow. Her dagger. A shield. A last attempt at carving this shitty world into a better place for all of them.

“Keep the canteens,” Nesta said, gesturing to her own strapped to her side, “I’ve got enough.”

It was a lie, a lie brimming with tears that Nesta pushed back. A lump found its way into Emerie’s throat but she willed herself to believe it nonetheless.

“She’ll never forgive you for this.” Emerie said. She meant it to be light-hearted, but her voice refused. Gwyn wouldn’t forgive her for this, and Emerie didn’t want to either. She wanted to shove both Gwyn and Nesta through the last stretch of the Breaking, to the top of Ramiel, and take on each and every one of the assholes who had spent their lives making hers a living Hell.

But Nesta would never let her. She’d use everything in that deep, deep well of raw Goddess-given power to stop her.

And for that, Emerie couldn’t make herself hate Nesta for this even if she tried for a thousand years.

“I know.” Nesta said, with a voice of finality. Like the ringing call of Death itself.

The other Illyrians were getting closer, and closer. They were out of time.

Nesta didn’t speak as she picked Gwyn up and helped heft her into Emerie’s back. Sharp pain shocked through her back, a deep ache settled in her bones, pulsing through her entire being as her wings spread out farther than they ever had since they were clipped. The scars stretched and stretched until she felt the skin tear, blood flowing freely down her already sweat and crimson slick skin. Tears started to well in her eyes, but with every ounce of willpower in her soul, she blinked them away.

Nesta tied the bloody rope around them, and it began to truly sink into Emerie, that this was it. This was the last time the three of them would ever be together. After tonight, Nesta will be gone.

Her eyes filled with tears again.

“Come with us.” She begged, it was futile, this game was over before it started. Emerie didn’t know how, but she could feel it. Nesta was never meant to leave these mountains.

She shook her head, “Consider it repayment of a debt.”

Emerie stared at her for a moment, for a startling second laughter nearly bubbled from her throat, because what her friend was saying was so absurd, instead more tears slipped down her face, “For what?”

“For being my friends. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Those words were what broke Emerie entirely.

Nesta was going to leave them tonight.

And she would leave them thinking she had owed them something.

“There is no debt, Nesta.” She didn’t know if she was laughing or crying anymore.

“There is. Let me pay it.”

Emerie forced back her tears. They were out of time. She thought she might have had the opportunity, the chance, to thank Nesta for everything she had done for her.

Instead, she couldn’t. The chance had slipped through her fingers, the time was gone, the life they all could have had been stolen, like every other damned thing that so many others had stolen from her.

She didn’t have the words, she didn’t have the time. So, she just nodded, her final salute to the warrior, the friend, the random High Fae that once showed up in her shop, that she loved with all of her damning heart. And then, she headed through the rest of the Breaking.

Emerie felt the air spark around her, viciously cold, flames that felt like ice spiked in her soul. Anger for what was done to her mother, hatred for what they had done to herself, rage for what had been done to Gwyn and worst of all pure terror, hatred, disgust and burning, burning rage for what had been done to Nesta, and what would be done to her now.

She gripped Gwyn’s thighs hugging her waist tightly and forced her burning legs towards the peak of Ramiel. Every single muscle ached, she was on fire, and it fueled her. She had come so far. Gone so far. Defied everyone, broke every rule, and she would not stop now.

She couldn’t protect Nesta, but damn the Mother, damn the Cauldron, damn the males, she would protect Gwyn. And she would live, godsfuckingdamnit, she would live to protect every daughter born like her.

The sound of steel, shouting and flesh being carved open echoed from behind her, Emerie did not look back. She felt Gwyn stir against her, fighting rest, even as blood loss pulled her in and out of unconsciousness. The very thought of rest tried to chip at Emerie’s resolve. If she stopped for even a moment, she would collapse, and more than likely, never wake up.

“Whas happening?” Gwyn slurred, exhausted, still half-gone.

“We’re almost there.” Emerie whispered, her breath clouding in front of her, she could see it, they were almost there. They were almost there.

“Where… Nesta?”

“She’s…”

The sound of a male screaming as something drove into his body. Nesta.

“She’s right behind us.” Emerie lied.

“She kept her promise.” Gwyn said.

“I am the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break me.”

“We are Valkyrie.”

Laughter bloomed from Nesta and Gwyn, Emerie joined them as she lightly stroked the friendship bracelet around her wrist. She could feel nothing but pure, radiant joy.

They had found each other. Through the thick of the mountains, stayed together in the dark of night, hiding in that tree. Together, they had faced it. And they were gonna win this. It just meant they… they were gonna be separated now, for a little while.

“Yeah.” Emerie said, “Yeah, she kept her promise, we faced it together.” And this time, her words were not a lie.

They were so close now. The sharp tang of blood frozen by the harsh winds whipping against her face. Blood dribbled along the pure white with every shaking step. He wings felt as though they would tear at the base. Spots of black edged her vision, bile rose in her throat, Emerie was trembling so badly, she could feel every fibre of her being alight with blinding pain. Open wounds weeping as the ice biting at the raw nerves caused them to burn like fire.

She’d keep going. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t, she would. She'd cleave this mountain in two with her bare bloodied hands if that’s what it took.

For her mother.

For Gwyn.

For Nesta.

For every pair of wings turned flightless both in the past and future.

“I am the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break me.”

This mountain would crash against her too, it would wash over her and she would be what came out the otherside.

This mountain would not break her.

This. This was what a warrior was, Emerie thought, as every muscle in her body burned and contracted. As her wounds wept blood that spilt across the floor. As her bruised face was whipped by the wild wind. She gritted her teeth, spat out the blood in her mouth, letting the pain wash over and pass through her.

Emerie barely remembered the rest of the way up, the sounds of her feet crushing the snow underneath blurred into the sounds of the battle behind them. But she remembered her heart hammering in her chest, and the brush of the stone underneath her fingertips when she made it.

The blinding light filled the world, blooming into this space of dark and death.

For a brief, blinking moment in time, Emerie saw her. A glorious streak of red and glinting silver in the world. Gwyn saw it too, but her echoing scream for Nesta, reaching out into that pocket of space, was swallowed by light and power. They were swept away into the blanket of space and time. Caressed by a never-ending sea of night.

Then the world crashed back into her, and Emerie passed out.

Someone was shaking her, yelling her name, the voice that spoke was familiar and it made her feel warm inside. But there was something that cut through that warmth, as Emerie slowly came back to consciousness. Blinking away the haze, she saw someone kneeling in front of her. It slowly occurred to her that she was laying sideways.

Finally looking up, Emerie recognised the long, ginger hair that stuck to pale, freckled skin. Those teal eyes reddened, cheeks stained with tears that continued to fall without stopping.

“-merie! Emerie thank the Goddess!” Gwyn cried when she saw her friend open her eyes.

“Gwyn.” Emerie croaked out. She was alive. They were both alive. They escaped.

No. Not escaped.

They won.

Gwyn tried to say something but it was choked out as a sob broke free from her. Racking her chest, making her shake uncontrollably, her tears were a never-ending flow, the cry that tore from her throat was animalistic, raw and grieving.

Emerie shot up, briefly caught off guard by the lack of sharp, deep pain from her injuries.

Emerie wrapped her arms around Gwyn. Pulling her into her chest. Keeping her close.

“It’s over.” Emerie whispered, “It’s over.”

“She’s gone!” Gwyn cried out.

The words hit Emerie like a blow to the gut.

Looking up, Emerie saw just the same four walls of her bedroom. The fireplace nothing but cold ash now. The curtains of her window was drawn. They sat on the hardwood floors, their sight only lit by the light of dawn pouring in from her open bedroom door, and the windows in the corridor.

It was all the same. All the exact same. Only she wore the leathers of a dead Illyrian male, and blood, most of which was not hers, clung to every pore. No bath would be able to scrub this away entirely.

In the quiet light of Dawn, the first ever Valkyrie-Carynthian, grieved the friend they loved and lost.

The Stone seemed to have simply returned them to the place they last were before entering the Blood Rite. Emerie was thankful for it. She couldn’t imagine having to hike all the way back from the boundary around Ramiel to her home.

After what felt like forever, Gwyn had passed out again in Emerie’s arms. She herself couldn’t sleep if she forced herself too. Everytime she closed her eyes, she saw Nesta, defending them with all her might for the last time. So, she picked up Gwyn and focused all her energy on making sure her friend was okay.

Her energy was renewed from the Stone. The burning in her muscles was still there, but without the injuries for the first time in the last day, the burning alone was the easiest task in the world to bear.

Emerie had hated herself for it, but she shook Gwyn awake after running her a bath. Gwyn had been in a trance of her own. Having looked at Emerie, Gwyn had seen what she was doing. Trying her best to focus on anything else. Understanding had passed over her. This was Emerie’s way of dealing with it, picking up the pieces of what was left, and trying to make something of it. The same as she had done when her mother was killed, and the same as she had done when the piece of shit who claimed to be her father had died.

It was that same mindset that gave her the strength to get through the Breaking, even as her wings had been ripped and torn under Gwyn's weight. Even as Emerie had listened to the sounds of fighting and gore behind her. Event as she had weathered the terrain and cold that tried to force her to yield. She never stopped moving.

So, Gwyn allowed Emerie to dot on her, it gave them both a sense of calm. A sense of belonging after so much loss.

After Gwyn bathed and changed, she took her clothes and put them in a basket, along with Emerie’s stolen leathers. Then she cleaned them thoroughly, till they were scrubbed of all that had happened, before putting them back in a basket outside and leaving them there. In just a half-hour, they were gone, and coincidentally, Emerie saw two young boys outside her shop window, sporting worn Illyrian leathers that were just a bit too big for them.

Gwyn helped in preparing the shop, and once the floor was swept, the fire was lit, the shelves were cleaned, the beds were made and the linen was washed and drying. They both sat at the table, and looked down at the tea Emerie didn’t remember making.

“What do we do now?” Gwyn was the one to break the silence.

Emerie didn’t have an answer for her. So, she stayed silent.

Did they grieve? Did they follow the traditions that were custom when Illyrian males were killed in the rite? Did they follow the traditions for High Fae of the Night Court? They tended to differ in Illyria vs the Hewn City.

Emerie wasn’t sure if Velaris had its own set of customs. Or would Nesta want them to follow human traditions? She didn’t even know where she would find out what human traditions were. Her first instinct was to ask Nesta, but when she looked over at the seat where Nesta used to occupy, it was empty and cold.

It was then that Emerie noticed that she had poured a third cup of tea, and its steam wafted into the air, untouched.

“She might not be dead.” Gwyn whispered, “There’s a chance she was able to hold them off until dawn.”

“But we were transported back here by the stone. Wouldn’t she too? Dawn has long come and gone.”

“Maybe it transports us back to where we feel safest?” Gwyn suggested, “She could be back in the House of Wind with Cassian?”

Emerie just blinked at her, letting the implication of her words sink in. Gwyn continued, “Or maybe it’s only the stone that transports you. Maybe Nesta had to walk back?”

“You feel safest here?” Emerie asked.

Gwyn looked at her for a very long time, then she stared down at her tea, “I…”

The morning light shone on Gwyn’s still damp hair, gleaming like fire. The steam curled around her face. Emerie studied every part of her. High cheekbones, a smatter of tan freckles across her nose, travelling down to her collarbone. Teal eyes that glowed with emotion.

Emerie memorised it all. Every single part of her. Who would know if Gwyn was next to be taken from her? Stolen in the night, or ripped from her arms. Dying for her salvation, or being killed in crossfire. Who would know? They were Valkyrie. They were warriors. They were soldiers.

And soldiers died. Soldiers fought, and died. Warrior fought, and warriors died.

It had been the same for the Valkyries of the past, and it was the same for them.

So, Emerie looked through the stretch of space between them, capturing the glow of Gwyn's eyes, shining with tears, and kept it tucked away into the deepest parts of her heart.

This is what Nesta had fought for. What she had fought for. What she would continue to fight for. Gwyn, herself, all the others...

“I feel the safest with you.” Gwyn eventually said, lifting her eyes to see Emerie, “I feel safe with you, and her.”

Gwyn’s voice cracked at the mention of Nesta. Something splintered in Emerie’s heart, again and again, and again.

“There is still a chance she’s alive.” Emerie murmured, “There’s a chance she’s… not.”

“What do we do?” Gwyn asked again, “We are… We are Valkyrie-Carynthian now.”

“We are.” Emerie agreed, “Valkyrie-Carynthian.” She murmured the words slowly, trying to wrap her tongue around them. It still hadn’t quite set in. But it also felt so right.

“What would she want us to do?” Gwyn asked, in a voice too small for what she had accomplished the last few hours. What they had won together.

“Move on.” Emerie answered.

“How could she possibly want us to just move on-”

“She thought she owed us something.” Emerie muttered, “Her defending us, her fighting for us, in her eyes it was paying her debt.”

When Emerie found it in her too look up at Gwyn, she saw those teal eyes wide with horror, brimming with tears.

“No-” Gwyn started, her voice breaking with the force of her tears.

“She said ‘Consider it repayment of a debt. For being my friends, even when I didn’t deserve it.” Emerie remembered every word like they were burned into her mind’s eye. She didn’t think she’d ever forget them.

She just wished she’d been able to push Nesta to say something else. To say anything else. Emerie stayed at her tea, and hoped with all her might, that Gwyn was right and Nesta fought until Dawn, so that her last words were not that.

Gwyn did not answer, she just cried. Her lithe shoulders shook, she lowered herself to the table, hands clenched so tightly they were white. She trembled without stopping as she cried and cried.

Soon Emerie began to shake. Her wings trembling. Her body spasming. Even when she bit down on her tongue so hard blood filled her mouth. Blood with its horrible, horrible tang. Even as she gripped the table until her fingers were burning. She couldn’t stop it.

“You don’t owe me anything!” She wanted to scream. “I am yours because I want to be! You are mine because I need you!”

Tears burned in her eyes. They burned her cheeks. Her heart was on fire, her body was on fire, she was burning up in the memory of silver flames.

‘It’s your fault,’ Emerie thought to herself, ‘You should have pleaded with her to say anything else. You should have forced anything else from her mouth!’

We needed more time.

We deserved more time.

For every time we were left alone. For every dream we wished to the stars. Begging for what we had. The three of us. We deserved to have more time.

"Emerie," Gwyn whispered through shallow breaths, reaching her hands out between them. Holding Emerie even as her own crying was persistent.

"Yes?" Emerie managed out. Trying to hold back the onslaught of emotion she was drowning in.

"It's not your fault." Gwyn said, "You... You fought for us. For me. Alongside us. There was nothing to be done."

Emerie didn't answer. She couldn't if she tried.

The bell of the shop door rang out as it opened, Emerie just stared at her hands. She did not sob, but her tears flowed and she could not stop them.

Gwyn managed to force her body to stop its grieving. She looked up at Emerie, after a moment, she put a hand on her knuckles. Pulling them away from the edge of the table, Gwyn pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to Emerie’s fingers. Then, silently, she got up, wiped her tears, put on a blindingly sweet smile, and walked out to the shop floor.

Emerie sniffled, thanking the Goddesses, thanking The Mother, thanking her own mother’s spirit watching over her, that she had the strength to carry Gwyn through the Breaking. If she had lost Nesta and Gwyn… Emerie didn’t think she would be able to survive.

Gwyn screaming snapped Emerie entirely from her thoughts. Before she even processed what she had heard, her legs had forced her to her feet and she was running to the shop floor.

Just as she went to grab the closest blunt object to use as a weapon, Emerie stopped dead in her tracks.

There she was, gleaming in the morning light. Bright as a new moon, blooming as she looked at Gwyn.

Gwyn seemed lost in a trance, tentatively she reached out a hand and cupped her blood-stained cheek. Like she couldn’t believe she was here.

They seemed frozen in that moment. Emerie took in every detail. The silvery light that bounced off the snow outside, framing her from behind. The flicking of the fire that warmed her face from the front. Her bloody hair, braided in a crown around her head.

This was a moment Emerie would never forget, staring at Nesta once more. She was alive.

It seemed to click for Gwyn at the same time, as the redhead suddenly broke down crying as she threw her arms around Nesta pulling her into a hug so tight Nesta winced. Her injuries still present. But she ignored her own discomfort as she held Gwyn just as tightly.

“You came back.” Gwyn sobbed into Nesta’s shoulder.

“I always will.” Nesta murmured.

Eventually, Gwyn forced herself to pull away, still staring at Nesta like she couldn’t quite believe she were here. That their hopes had been answered. But she stepped back, and Emerie stepped forward.

Nesta lifted her eyes to Emerie, and for another snapshot in time, they faced each other like warriors. Fellow soldiers. Knowing something had been sealed between them on that mountain when Nesta had asked Emerie to carry Gwyn to victory.

“I-” Nesta started.

“YOU WILL NEVER OWE ME ANYTHING” Emerie screamed with all her might. The mountains might have shook. The ground might have split. The world might have shifted. And then Emerie leapt forward and grabbed Nesta into a hug that couldn’t possibly be close enough.

“How fucking dare you.” Emerie whispered, “How fucking dare you let those almost be your last words to me.”

Nesta shook with silent tears, burying her face into Emerie’s shoulder as she broke.

“Everything I do for you is because I love you.” Emerie continued, “I love you. And I love you selfishly, Nesta. You are mine. I am yours. There will never be a price.”

“I love you too.” Nesta whispered.

There was another set of arms, and Emerie simply wrapped Gwyn into the hug, pulling them both close.

Yes, something had been sealed between them on that mountain.

A deep understanding. A bond that could never be broken.

Even if one of them went through the veil to the next life first, they would always meet each other on the other side.

"I saw you." Nesta whispered into the space between them, "I saw you, when you conquered the Breaking."

"Yeah?" Emerie whispered.

Nesta lifted her eyes, pushing her forehead against Emerie's, as she murmured, "You looked like one of the Generals of Old. Like a Goddess of Battle carved from marble."

Emerie swallowed, "You were a blinding streak of steel and fire." The words rolled easily from her tongue, like she was kneeling before an altar. Presenting a sacrifice to her God.

"You have the soul of a warrior, Emerie." Nesta said, and her voice was filled with such wonder, such awe, Emerie felt heat shot through her face.

She distantly felt Gwyn's hand slip away as Nesta cupped her face with both hands. The Priestess slipped behind Emerie, wrapping her arms around her waist and burying her face into her shoulder. Like she knew what Nesta was trying to do for Emerie.

"You have no idea what you looked like then," Nesta whispered, "But I saw, and what I saw was magnificent."

"Fuck, Nesta-"

"You did something so extraordinary. So... So, Godlike, I-"

"You don't owe me your compliments, Nesta. You owe me nothing. Did you not just hear me-"

"Emerie." Gwyn cut through, "What you did won us the first female Valkyrie-Carynthian title in history. Let it sink in."

"You both know it wasn't just me-"

"No, it wasn't. But..." Nesta bit her lip, like she couldn't form the words she needed to say.

She took a deep breath, a thumb caressing Emerie's cheek. A touch so warm and gentle. Emerie leaned into it, breathing in her seat. Feeling Gwyn's arms tighten around her.

"You're a warrior, Emerie. And when you made that climb," Nesta's eyes were hard like the steel she had wielded, they burned like her fire, "When you made that climb, you shouted that from the tops of the mountains, to the darkest pits of the Bog of Oorid. Now, everyone will know the name Valkyrie-Carynthian. You are powerful beyond language, and now everyone knows it."

Emerie screwed her eyes shut. It was too much. Everything was too much. Just months ago she had been nobody to anyone. Nobody's daughter, nobody's friend, nobody's anyone. And now...

"Goddess, save me. Mother hold me..." Emerie felt a sob choke out of her. She collaspsed and Nesta and Gwyn caught her. Emerie buried her face into Nesta as she cried her prayers, as she held what was hers so tightly.

"Cauldron bless, and carry our souls through the darkest nights and treacherous days." Gwyn hummed as Emerie cried and cried and cried.

They stayed like that for the Gods know how long. Gwyn whispering the prayers and songs that Emerie's mother used to sing to her when she was so, so young. It comforted her, it made everything feel a little smaller again, a little more manageable.

Eventually, when Emerie could stand without falling over again, Nesta and Gwyn took her up to her bedroom. Gwyn made them all another tea and they held each other as they cried and laughed and cried some more.

Eventually, they fell asleep, and when Emerie awoke again, the moon was high in the sky. It's light slipping through the curtains.

She slowly peeled herself away from her friends, as fear had gripped her from the memory of being stolen away from her bed the night before. Gwyn didn't wake, only pinching her brow in unconscious frustration before rolling away from where she had been clinging to Emerie's side.

Nesta, a lighter sleeper, woke easily when even slightly jostled. Her steel eyes blinked open, she yawned and sat up as well. Leaning against the headboard, silently observing Emerie through half-lidded eyes. At some point during the night, Nesta must have slipped away from Gwyn and Emerie, as she was clean and in a new change of clothes. The thick, warm shirt and sleep shorts she wore Emerie recognized as her own.

"I can't go back to sleep," Emerie eventually said, breaking the silence.

Nesta nodded, then glanced back at Gwyn, who mumbled something in her sleep, her mouth open, and a small bit of drool running from the corner of her mouth. Emerie had to bit her lip to stop her laugh.

"Let's leave her be." Nesta whispered, slipping out of the covers and padding towards the door. Emerie watched her, and when Nesta reached the threshold, she turned her head over her shoulder, lifting an eyebrow.

"You coming?"

Emerie's feet moved on her own as she followed after the High Fae.

Nesta made them both tea, her hands moving in slow, precise movements. She winced with every wrong turn, but when Emerie tried to help, she told her to sit down. So, sit she did.

Soon, Nesta was pressing a warm mug into her hands, which Emerie gladly took, then Nesta slid into the seat beside her.

"So," Nesta started, "What do you want to talk about first?"

"What happened? After I touched the stone?"

Nesta swallowed, "A lot."

"Tell me." Emerie said.

Nesta took a deep breath, then explained. She told Emerie all of her Belluis' true intentions, and the battle with Briallyn. Then of Feyre and the new Heir's early arrival. And how Nesta had made a deal with the Cauldron to give up her power.

Emerie listened intently to all of it, at some point she had rested her hand on Nesta's, when the High Fae's knuckles had gone white as she went tense, recounting the tale.

"No wonder you were late getting back then." Emerie mumbled, Nesta let out a sharp, barking laugh.

"Yeah. I was a little preoccupied." She smiled.

"That's the understatement of the year." Emerie squeezed Nesta's hand once more. Then another question came to mind.

"Why didn't you stay with Cassian?" She asked, "You could have sent word, we would have gone to you in Velaris. You didn't have to come all this way and leave your mate alone..."

Nesta shook her head, "I... the Bond was taken along with my magic. The Cauldron saw fit to remove everything. I only have a small sliver of magic now, and it is little more besides winnowing."

"Oh... Nesta, I am so sorry-"

Nesta waved her hand, "Don't be. The removal of the Bond itself didn't hurt, it felt the same as my magic being taken, it just... drifted away, as if it was never there to begin with."

"Still. I know you love him."

Nesta furrowed her brow, "I love him. I do, I really do, but... The Bond, it confused platonic and romantic love. Didn't help that I was locked in a house with him for months."

Emerie nodded slowly, "How did Cassian feel?"

Nesta shrugged, "I left as soon as I knew Feyre and the babe were safe. Cassian was occupied with ensuring everyone was unharmed, I don't think he even knew. Again, it was all painless."

Another squeeze of her hand, "What are you gonna do now?"

Nesta shrugged once more, "Same as you."

"I don't know what I'm doing." Emerie revealed.

Nesta smiled, "Exactly."

A short, quiet laugh. Emerie stared at their conjoined hands.

"It killed me, you know." Emerie murmured, "To leave you there. I think it killed me."

There was silence, Emerie couldn't bring herself to look up. She didn't have to, Nesta spoke.

"It killed me too. To know we didn't have any more time. But I couldn't have made the climb. You were the only one strong enough."

Emerie turned slightly more towards Nesta, enough so she could hold Nesta's hands with both of her own.

"I would have rathered I fight with my whole soul and body, with you two behind me, until Dawn, than see you die, Nesta. Than you leave me." Emerie's words were a whispered breath, a secret confession in the quiet of the night.

"I would have rathered I be the sacrifice-"

"I would rather fight to my dying breath than live without you. It does not frighten me to die, it frightens me to be without you. So, don't ever fucking do that me again." Emerie gripped Nesta's hands harder, "Don't ever leave me like that again."

"I won't." Nesta whispered, "I won't."

"You asked me if I could keep going until dawn." Emerie recounted, "Nesta I would have kept going until my flesh fell away from the bone."

"Thank god it didn't come to that then." Nesta murmured, staring down.

"But one day, it may. We are Valkyrie. We are warriors, and I need you to know, that for you, for Gwyn, for us, I will fight and fight and fight."

Nesta swallowed hard, "You're stronger than most, Emerie."

"I'm as a strong as you are, Nesta. I'm as strong as Gwyn. I'm strong with you two. But if I didn't have you, I would... I could not be brave without you two."

"I wouldn't be strong or brave without you two either." Nesta murmured.

Emerie lifted one hand, her fingers grazing Nesta's chin, gently tilting her head up. They were so close, they nearly shared a breath, and Emerie caught the near silent hitching gasp Nesta let out, the way her pulse began to flutter faster in her neck, the way her skin coloured a beautiful, dark red.

Emerie whispered, "Thank you, Nesta. For being you."

Tears pooled in Nesta's silver eyes, "Thank you for being strong enough to carry us through."

That night, hidden in the warm dark of Emerie's shop. Guided by the moonlight and dying embers, Emerie learned that Nesta tasted like jasmines and apple. Her skin was soft underneath her lips, and she bit her lip whenever Emerie dragged her teeth over her pulse.

They went to bed, and the next morning, there was no sign of what had been said or done that night. But there was something restless put to sleep between them. They both felt lighter, like they had been unchained after so, so long.

Emerie knew so much from her time alive, she had felt so much, seen so much, sometimes it was just too much.

But she'd always go forward. Never looking back. She'd march on, and on. Forever she go, until the break of dawn.

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