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talkfantasytome · 3 years ago

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Stay - Pt. 4

Nesta finds Cassian waiting outside her tent later that morning, when it's time for breakfast.

Warnings: None | Word Count: 2,599 | Nessian Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Read on AO3

a/n: See end notes for explanation on a name choice and certain words if you're curious.

Did I add in a little sumthin' sumthin' reminding us all what proper support looks like from a sister? Maybe. Am I ashamed of doing it in a reflection on Elain, essentially calling her out for her crap support? Not at all. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It's not anti-Elain, necessarily, just Nesta's thoughts on what good support looks like, and why she's doing what she's doing for her sister.

Nesta managed to get another hour of sleep after returning to the tent she shared with Elain. She'd hoped for more, but it was clear that wasn't going to happen, and it was better than nothing.

Once awake for good, she changed into a day dress, using a damp cloth to rinse her body clean, first.

As far as she knew, all the injured soldiers had been tended to the day before. Still, she figured it would be good to get out and check on them, especially if they'd be on the move again, soon.

"Do you want me to bring you anything to eat from breakfast?" she asked Elain as she tied her boots up.

No answer. Par for the course, really.

Nesta wished there was a way she could get through to Elain. A way to help her, to speed up whatever healing she had to do. But, she also knew that one of the best things you could give another person was time - time to figure it out for themselves. So she remained by Elain's side, supporting her as best she could, and not forcing her into situations she didn't wish to be in.

Instead, Nesta simply checked the fruit basket to make sure none had rotted and then started out the tent. She planned on finding Feyre, knowing her sister would likely be near food that could be shared with Nesta, but she stalled the moment she stepped outside.

There, leaning against a stump in front of her tent, was Cassian.

His leathers seemed to be more casual than the ones he'd worn the day before. For a lighter form of fighting, if such a thing existed. Still, they clung to his body, showing off every taut muscle, forcing her eyes to trail down him.

He wore a leather jacket over them, adding to the relaxed front he was giving off. And on his face he donned an easy smile that sent Nesta's heart fluttering.

"Stalking me, now?" she asked, stepping toward him.

Cassian laughed softly. "More like returning the favor. You visited me, now I'm visiting you."

"I was checking your wrist."

"Exactly." He pushed off from the stump and closed the distance between them in one long stride. "It should be all healed, now. Won't you remove my wrappings? Healer Archeron?"

Ignoring the light that seemed to rise in Nesta from Cassian using such a stupid excuse to find her, Nesta raised an eyebrow and replied, "Are you truly so incapable you can't remove your own wrappings?"

"Maybe," he breathed, lightly brushing his fingers against hers. Nesta didn't pull her hand away, something Cassian seemed to note. "Maybe I wanted a reason to have breakfast with you." His fingers grazed Nesta's a second time, a few linking around hers. "Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand again."

Nesta saw Cassian look down at their hands, and did the same.

Her hand looked so small, her fingers so delicate wrapped in his. She'd always been thin, but she'd never felt tiny. Being the tallest of her sisters, she had the longest limbs, the largest hands and feet. Next to Cassian, however, her hand looked almost like a child's.

She curved her fingers around his, strengthening the link. Cassian's breathing hitched, and the sound of it had Nesta's own lungs pausing. A heat spread across her cheeks, but for once Nesta didn't care if he saw, if he marked the response.

"Well," she mumbled in a soft, unwavering voice, "I suppose there are worse reasons."

Lifting her head, she found Cassian's eyes already back on hers. Joy sparkled in the hazel irises. His lips curved into a smile as he replied in an amused tone, "At least one. Join me for breakfast? When we're sitting we can get the wrapping sorted."

Speechless, Nesta nodded slowly, Cassian tracking the movement, and then the lines of her face. His eyes lingered for an extra moment on her lips, but then traveled back to her stare. As they did, he lifted her hand, adjusting their positioning so that her arm was now looped through his, her hand holding his forearm.

He brushed the thumb of his other hand once over hers, and then let it fall as they turned and he led her through the camp. It felt intimate, walking with Cassian this way. Their arms in constant contact. But it was also a form of respect, at least in the human world, for a man to offer his arm to a woman. She wondered if it was the same for the Fae. Or did Cassian simply know this about humans and choose to offer that respect to Nesta.

Considering the looks they received, Nesta wondered if it possibly meant more. But she couldn't believe that. Their customs were so different from hers. So much more open. This form of touch was likely nothing to the Fae, no matter how much it meant to her.

What did it mean to Cassian, though? What did he really know? Was he aware she'd never walked like this with a man - or male, she supposed - before? Tomas never offered his arm. And it didn't count when just being led out onto a dance floor from the side of a ballroom. It wasn't the same.

Or, at least, it didn't feel the same. Maybe that's what had Nesta wrapped up in it. The stimulation in her fingers, the way her skin remained raised with gooseflesh as the contact continued. The jolt of electricity that came with each step.

Did Cassian feel that, too? Did he sense the way the air grew taut when he was too far away from her, as if they were attached by an elastic tether that tightened when stretched?

The questions swirled through her head, never to be voiced. No. Nesta would never be able to ask him. Not without exposing herself.

He led her to a fire a bit past his own tent where an older Illyrian male was already seated, heating up some sausages in a pan.

The male's hair was cut fairly short, swept back slightly from the wind. It was dark like Cassian's, but heavily peppered with silvery grey strands that sparkled in the sunlight. His skin was a light bronze - a few shades darker than Cassian's - and had grown leathery from age.

Considering how Cassian looked at over five hundred years old, Nesta could only imagine how old this male was. How many wars he must've fought and survived.

Despite that, when Nesta sat down the male looked up and offered her a warm smile.

"Nesta, this is Kastas. Best campfire cook you'll ever meet," Cassian introduced as he sat beside her.

Kastas let out a breathy chuckle. "More like the oldest. When you're my age, I'm sure you'll have figured it out."

"But by then, you'll have learned even more." Cassian grinned mischievously at Kastas and the male's eyes shimmered with amusement. Hazel, but even brighter than Cassian's, and just slightly foggy. Nesta had seen that before, on some of the older people in her village. It often was the start to them losing their sight. She wondered if the Fae had a solution for it.

She hoped they did.

"We'll see, mikrares."

Kastas turned his eyes back to the pan, but Nesta shifted to look up at Cassian.

He leaned in and said softly, "It means little warrior. Kastas is from Windhaven and has known me since I was left there when I was a child."

"Left?" Nesta couldn't stop herself, the question escaping before she'd realized it.

She knew Cassian was a bastard. It was clear based on how he reacted whenever she called him that. But she didn't know much else about his upbringing. She'd never asked.

"Work on my wrappings as I explain?" he suggested, lifting up the still-wrapped arm. She nodded and started to delicately untie the cloth.

"The Illyrians can be…traditional," he started, his voice quiet. "In some ways it's a lot like human propriety, the way you were brought up. In some ways, it's worse. Many of the males, or at least those in charge, care a lot about bloodlines and legitimacy. A female is meant to keep her maidenhead until she weds. However, most males don't care about that when they're looking for a release."

"Sounds almost exactly like the human world," she muttered. The wrapping from Cassian's arm fell, Nesta having been unraveling it as he spoke. Their hands fell into her lap, but she didn't let go of him. She just loosened her grip enough for him to adjust so that it was his hand in hers, not his wrist.

He waited until she looked up at him, until their eyes locked before he continued. "My mother was taken advantage of, that's how she came to be pregnant with me. When I was old enough to survive without her, they took me and dropped me off at Windhaven. Far enough away I wouldn't know how to get back.

"It's not an uncommon practice," he added. "In the camps, bastards get nothing. No food, no shelter - they have to find their own way."

Nesta could feel her brows furrowing. Horror washed through her, sending a chill up her spine. "As children?"

Cassian nodded. "I didn't receive much help before Rhys got there. Most Illyrians don't have much to spare, and even fewer would be willing to help if they did. However, every once in a while, when passing Kastas' tent, he'd stop me and offer a small portion of the stew he'd made. I always thought it was good, but it wasn't until I was older - and better fed - that I realized just how great the food was." He was smiling lightly, a soft laugh coupling his words. "Now, when I visit Windhaven, I sometimes bring some extra ingredients and join Kastas for dinner."

"Yes, and what a treat it is, to be asked to cook for two instead of one," Kastas quipped. The complaint didn't hold much weight with the lightness of his voice.

Cassian grinned up at the older male. "If you'd join me for dinner in the house, I'd cook for you."

Kastas rolled his eyes, beginning to fill a plate with eggs and some sausage and grumbling to himself. Nesta couldn't fully make out the words, but it sounded like something about not enjoying eating inside and missing the smokiness a fire adds.

He lifted the plate and Cassian leaned over to take it, only to have his hand slapped with the tool Kastas was using to cook with.

"This is for Nesta. You make her unwrap your arm and can't even give her the first serving." Kastas shook his head at Cassian as Nesta laughed.

She stood and accepted the plate from him, giving Kastas a small smile as she said, "Thank you."

"I was going to hand it to her," Cassian muttered, rubbing the top of his hand.

"Mmhmm." Kastas didn't deign Cassian with a glance as he piled a second plate full and handed it to Cassian.

Nesta was still smiling to herself when she picked the foldable fork up from the plate she'd been given and took a bite.

The involuntary sound that escaped her was something Nesta had never heard before. It had Cassian stilling beside her and Kastas chuckling quietly, but she didn't care. It was amazing.

Maybe not the best food she'd ever had. But it had been at least two, maybe three days since she'd had something not cooked over a campfire.

Gods, was that all it had been? Had it really only been two days since she'd stepped in Illyria for the first time, since she'd watched Graysen completely shred the last pieces of Elain's heart that were intact. Less, really, considering how early in the morning it was compared to the afternoon sun that was shining when they were in the mortal lands.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

"This is amazing," Nesta offered to Kastas before taking a second bite. He nodded his thanks and went on to continue cooking the eggs he was making for himself.

She could understand why some might prefer meals cooked over fire, the taste of the smoke and heat from it. And Kastas had used something in the eggs, some spice mix, that blended perfectly with it. That brought out new flavors Nesta had never experienced.

Most didn't seem to bother with things like spices with the war raging around them. Even in books she'd read, it was often noted that war camps were low on food provisions and offered no luxury. Whether that was true for most or not in Fae wars, she didn't know, but clearly Kastas didn't think war had to mean eating only to survive.

Maybe he thought that war meant making sure every meal was good enough to be your last.

Another hope flashed across her mind, and she prayed to whatever deity listening that this war wouldn't bring that upon him.

Kastas and Cassian chatted idly as they ate. Nesta remained silent, listening as Cassian explained that they didn't yet know where they were going next, and until they did, he'd give his warriors time to rest and heal.

"What will you be doing as we await news, Nesta?" Kastas asked, the honey brown in his eyes bright as he looked at her.

"Looking in on the healing warriors, mostly," she guessed. As she spoke, Cassian took her empty plate and Kastas', bringing them over to a bucket to rinse them. "And other tasks I can do to help out. I can't do much, but hopefully I can offer some help."

Kastas' eyes softened. "I think you underestimate yourself, Nesta. Looking after, speaking to the warriors - that goes a long way. High morale has won as many wars as good strategy and well-trained warriors has." Nesta gave him another small smile, but he wasn't done. "And keeping the Commander's spirits up is a far bigger service than anyone would ever admit."

"I don't-"

Kastas raised a hand to cut Nesta off. "It's not my business, mikrívasí. But, stay with him, and perhaps you'll see it, too."

Nesta didn't have a response to that. She'd never really learned how to respond to kind words. It's not as if they were extremely common in her life.

So she nodded, standing just as Cassian returned, brushing dust off her skirt.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked, sounding almost worried as he handed the plates and forks - now folded - to Kastas.

Nesta looked up at him, hands on her head checking to make sure her hair was still in its coronet. "I should be going to check on the warriors, see how I can help the healers."

"Didn't you spend most of last night doing that? You deserve to rest, too," he argued gently. Cassian took a step closer, flashing her a crooked smile.

Nesta felt a tiny laugh escape her. A part of her wanted to stay there with him. A larger part than she wished to admit. But offering her assistance, it was the right thing to do. The helpful thing.

But…that didn't mean she had to leave him.

She looked over at Kastas, who gave her an encouraging smile and nodded, as if he knew what she was debating.

"Come with me then," she suggested to Cassian. "Be my helper, and then maybe I'll be able to get more rest later."

Cassian's eyes lit up, his smile spreading wider across his face. "Gladly."

a/n: According to nameberry, "Kastas" is a variation of "Kostas", also Greek, and means "steadfast".

"Mikrares" is a combination of "mikrós" and "Ares". According to Google (and please feel free to correct me if it's wrong, as I know Google is not the most reliable translator), in Greek when you're calling someone a "little something", you'd use mikrós, instead of the term for "little" that shows up when that's all you put in the translator - it kinda made sense to me, so I felt there was a chance at accuracy. I was going to just have it be the two words that mean together "little warrior", but I wanted something that would feel more like a term of endearment and wasn't totally a real word (since it's meant to be Illyrian as they might speak it in ACOTAR), so instead I used Ares, after the god. The idea is that, if you're trying to translate it more directly, yes, it would mean "little Ares", but as with most languages, in this case the word can't be perfectly, directly translated. It's more a term derived from concepts, that then turns into "little warrior". Similarly, but also a bit different, "mikrívasí" is meant to be a word deriving from "little queen", which Google says is "mikrí vasílissa" - again, happy to be corrected if that's wrong. Hope that makes sense!

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