#nesryn x salkhi

[fanwarriorfictions]

Help Me, Help You - Part Twelve

Fenrys x F!Reader

Summary- Y/n finally has her reunion after twenty years apart from her brother.

Warnings- tearjerking reunion, angsty(I’m sorry)

Series Masterlist

Part Twelve

   “Please tell me you’re here to collect the bird”

   Y/n practically flies from her seat behind Nesryn, dismounting the ruk with shaking legs almost before Salkhi had even touched the stone below them. The steep mountains around them were vastly different from home, much more harsh, colder. If she wasn’t aware of her brother so nearby she would love to look around the massive aerie, to experience the wonder that was the mountain home of the clan. From what she could see of the central area there was a promising fire smoking from within the pit in the middle of the vast room, rukhin milling about the room behind the woman she assumes is Borte.

   “Where is he?” Y/n is to excited, to terrified to bother with pleasantries that she knows she should give the woman.

   “Banging on the door to his room like it’s a prison cell,” Borte laughs, crossing her arms over her leather clad chest as she looks Y/n up and down, “You must be the sister.”

   Y/n nods once, glancing past her and into the large circular room, like she would see Vaughan standing there between the painted pillars holding up the ceiling, his arms open for her to crash into like they always had been when he’d come home. It’d been so long, since she felt his strong arms around her, holding her together as she teetered on the edge of the madness of her solitude. Only for him to leave, again, and again, and again, till he left her alone, completely and utterly alone.

   “You’re going to wear a hole through the mountain if you keep that up,” Fenrys says beside her, both their packs hauled over his shoulder.

   Y/n forces herself to be still, to stop shifting her weight from foot to foot like she was about to sprint through the mountain fortress to find her brother. Borte eyes the male beside her, earning a charming grin from Fenrys that leaves her completely unimpressed. 

   “It’s good to see you Borte,” Fenrys grins even wider.

   “You look better than when I last saw you,” she nods at his cheek.

   Y/n tenses, her need to see her brother dampened with worry as she glances at the male beside her, watching as he forces back on the mask to hide the pain from the reminder. He could act like everything was fine, that he wasn’t bothered by the missing scar, he could lie to her and tell her it was alright, but Y/n saw right through that, and she hates that she caused it. 

   “I wasn’t so grotesque was I?” Fenrys uses his free hand to touch the smooth skin on his face, “I thought it added to my rugged charm.”

   “Do show our guests to their room before you insult his ego further,” Sartaq says to his hearth sister, giving the woman a pointed look that said, shut up and leave it. “Where is Vaughan.”

   “The bird is in a room on the southern face,” Borte says, turning on her heel, “You’ll hear him.”

   Y/n hesitates, turning to look at Fenrys, asking with her eyes if he was okay, even if she knew the answer would be no.

   Fenrys smiles down at her, nodding towards the retreating form of Borte, “Go, I’ll be alright.”

   “Come with me?”

   “Go see your brother, kitten,” Fenrys nudges her, “I’ll get us settled in.”

   “I’m scared,” she admits, “What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

   “He does,” Fenrys says, and his hand finds her own, giving it a gentle squeeze, “Go.”

   Y/n takes a moment to gather her strength, taking some of his own that he offers through their clasped hands, like they were a thread between them that he could share a piece of himself with her. 

   She never thought about this moment, when she’d finally face her brother, so focused on finding him, on the impossibly difficult journey to do it, she hadn’t prepared herself for this. Fenrys could sense that, and he poured his strength into her until she felt steady on her own feet.

   “Are you coming?”

   Fenrys lets her hand drop between them, “She won’t wait forever, go, it’ll be alright.”

   Y/n believes him, even if Vaughan wanted nothing to do with her, it would be alright, because she wasn’t alone anymore. She held onto that, the strange bond between her and Fenrys, the male who had been a means to an end, then a friend, and now something more. And she follows Borte, her heart finally stilling in her chest, and she searched for her brother one last time.

   Borte wasn’t lying when she said Vaughan was pounding on the locked door, she was surprised he hadn’t broken the wood or ripped it off its hinges. He was perfectly capable of that, Y/n knew how strong her brother was, how a wooden door was holding him hostage, she had no clue.

   “I told him he would only be confined to that room if he tried to sneak off,” Borte says as they near, “It took half the clan and a few ruks to catch him when he shifted and fled. Luckily Aelin taught me a few handy wyrd marks.”

   “Does he know?” Y/n asks, “That I’m here?”

   She shakes her head, “He wouldn’t stop his hissing and growling long enough for me to explain why he was here so I decided to let him brood.”

   Y/n relaxes, he wasn’t trying to escape her. 

   “Knock it off bird brain!” Borte slams her fist into the door as they stop before it, “I am not replacing another door, I’ll put a rock over it next.”

   “I swear to the wyrd I will tear this whole mountain down, Borte.”

   And Y/n freezes, completely still as if she was a part of the unmoving stone of the mountain around her. His voice, she’d almost forgotten what it had sounded like, gruff and low, barely speaking his threat above a whisper, never one to shout even when she wanted him to. She’d always been the one to scream and hiss as they fought.

   Never come back. He hadn’t rose to meet her, to fight back, I’m sorry. And then he’d left, with nothing but that whispered apology for her to remember.

   “I have a surprise for you,” Borte coos through the door, “You have to behave or I’ll make her wait.”

   Vaughan doesn’t respond, no doubt plotting his escape as soon as that door opened, to lunge and tear out Borte’s throat, to fight his way out of this mountain. Y/n can’t move, even if he rammed through that door with a knife to her throat, she wouldn’t be able to do a damned thing. This is too much, too fast, and she is helpless to slow down, to breathe and steady herself.

   “Are you ready?” Borte doesn’t give her a chance to respond, “I love a good reunion.”

   The rider’s hand traces a shape on the door with a black paint, Y/n doesn’t know where the paint had come from, she can’t process anything other than her brother on the other side of the door. It swings open and Y/n nearly collapses.

   Vaughan is there, right at the threshold of the room, his body frozen as if he’d been mid sprint, a dagger made of stone poised to attack. And he’s staring at her, dark brown eyes flared wide and unblinking, like he’d seen a ghost. She feels like one, as if her body is floating in the space between here and purgatory. 

   “I’ll leave you to it,” Borte says, turning on her heel to stalk down the hall they’d just come from.

   Y/n feels her consciousness slam back into her, enough to choke out, “Hello, brother.”

   The stone in his hand shatters as it falls to the ground, and Y/n shatters with it when her brother surges forward, his arms wrapping around her to keep her from falling into a million little pieces. She is broken and whole, destroyed and rebuilt in that single moment. Everything that had been broken in her, the child he pulled her from that ice, the healer she could have been, the female he’d left in that house, the heart in her chest, none of it matters anymore, none of it.

   “Gods,” she sobs, clinging to her brother, her feet not touching the ground as he hauls her into his massive frame.

   She can’t say anything else, he doesn’t say anything at all. They only hold onto each other as if the other might slip away into nothing. They stay like that for an eternity, Vaughan, strong and unyielding, holding her together, holding both of them together. They were frozen in time, suspended in this moment where they were alright, but it wasn’t.

   And it crashes down on her, all of it, all one hundred and thirty years of solitude, of fear and sadness and anger, so much anger. 

   She pulls away quickly, stumbling out of her brother’s embrace and Vaughan has the nerve to look surprised.

   “You left me,” she says, tears streaming down her face in an endless stream.

   “I know.”

   He’d left her alone, completely and utterly alone, “I begged you to stay and you left.”

   “I know.”

   For twenty years she waited in that village, looking south, waiting to see him through the parting trees, and he was never there. He left her, abandoned her, left her to rot and decay into nothing but a shell of herself.

   “You didn’t come back,” she sobs, “I thought you’d come back, I didn’t mean it.”

   If you leave now, never, ever come back. She could still feel the way she’d growled the words at him, a feral animal backed into a corner, lashing out at the hand who had only ever been gentle with her. She’d begged him to run away with her, to leave Maeve and Doranelle far behind them, to travel like he’d been doing for months now, but he couldn’t. Maeve would find him, hunt him down and kill them both. Y/n had lashed out in anger, in fear, but she didn’t mean it, he had to know that.

   “I didn’t mean it,” she cries, “I swear, I didn’t- you never came back.”

   “I know,” Vaughan nods, “I’m sorry, you’ll never know just how sorry I am.”

   He reaches for her, trying to put everything back together, to fix it like he always did. 

   “Why?” She steps out of his reach, her shoulder colliding with the door frame, causing her to stumble into the hall behind her, “Why didn’t you come back? All this time?”

   “I couldn’t,” he says, and her brother’s voice waivers, he never cracked, never crumbled, but he does now, “Y/n I couldn’t, you know that, she-“

   “She’s dead,” Y/n screams, not caring if her voice echoes down the halls, through the mountains around them, let them know, let them feel it, her rage. “She is dead, Vaughan. You could have come back, she can’t hurt me anymore.”

   But she had, for months now she has been haunting Y/n, as if the queen’s ghost finally discovered the healer that Vaughan had hidden from her all this time. 

   “I’m sorry.”

   “You’re sorry?” She feels light headed, on the verge of passing out, this was too much. The anger, the confusion, the joy, the fear and the sadness colliding in a mess of emotions she has no ability to separate, to understand. “You were there! In Wendlyn, in Doranelle, you came back, months ago, but not for me.”

   He looks as broken as she feels, and there’s a sick part of her that is satisfied in that, knowing she hurt him just as much as he hurt her.

   “The moment the news broke that she was gone,” Y/n snarls, “I left that place for the first time in my whole life, and I started to look for you.”

   It had been the scariest moment of her life, taking those steps beyond the trees, taking the well worn paths south towards Doranelle. It took her months, picking her way across the continent, spending so much of it in her other form that at times she felt more cat than fae.

   “I thought you were coming back for me, the first time I heard a sighting of you I was so excited that I ran the entire night towards mistward, the creatures of the forest couldn’t even catch me.”

   She’d nearly died, so many times, so woefully underprepared for the world outside of her home, because of him, but it didn’t matter, not when he was coming home, not when she was finally free.

   “And then you were gone,” she says, “Again, you left, again, before I’d even gotten there. And then I thought maybe you would have gone home to look for me. I thought you would find that empty cottage and you wouldn’t know what to think, that had to be where you were going right? That would have to be, but you weren’t there, and no one had seen you.”

   She’d nearly wrung the neck of the first male she’d found in her village, demanding him to tell her what he knew of her brother. He told her that he’d heard the osprey was in the capitol of Wendlyn, the next person said he was in Maeves strong hold, the next said he was already on a ship to the southern continent. And then she’d found Fenrys, and he’d been the first shining light of the golden sun she’d seen in years.

   “You were never going to come back,” she says, not asking because she already knew, and the truth was a knife through her heart.

   “No,” Vaughan says, seeming to shrink away from her, from her fury, from his truth, “I wasn’t.”

   And that felt like the cold water of the lake filling her lungs, but it wasn’t his father holding her beneath the ice, it was Vaughan.

Tag list -

@emma-andrea1 @mgchaser @anxious-study @lees-chaotic-brain @girl-math-aint-mathing @mali22 @nikt-wazny-y @theworthlessqueen @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lethargicluv @hannzoaks @batboygirlie @foxysouls @kiarathace @jesskidding3 @raginghellfire 

[ladybookstan]

Nestaq Appreciation✨

Synopsis: A post entirely dedicated to Sartaq and Nesryn, presenting the facts that show that these characters, this couple, deserve more recognition and love.

Those who "know me" know that I am the Captain of the Character Defense Squad. So far I have only made one other post like this, one in Appreciation to Viviane, if you want to see it, I'll leave it here.

And now I am focusing on Tog's most overlooked couple: Nestaq.

⚠️ Throne of Glass Series Spoiler Alert!!!

The basis of this post will be mainly Tower of Dawn, and a bit of Queen of Shadows, I haven't finished KoA yet (I'm on chapter 21) and Lord knows I won't finish that book any time soon. BUuUt, I won't try anymore. The TOG fandom literally sleeps when it comes to this couple and I'm like: 🤡HELLOOOOO🤡

This post is huge and I apologize in advance for any spelling mistakes or anything like that.

Let's start with Nesryn✨

Balruhn, where Nesryn’s own people had originally hailed, before curiosity and ambition drove her great-grandfather to drag his family over mountains and grasslands and deserts to the god-city in the arid north.

The Faliqs had long been tradesmen, and not of anything particularly fine. Just simple, good cloth and household spices. Her uncle still traded such things and, through various lucrative investments, had become a moderately wealthy man, his family now dwelling in a beautiful home within this very city. A definitive step up from a baker—the path her father had chosen upon leaving these shores. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 2)

A daughter of Adarlan (on her mother's side, Cybele) and a daughter of the Southern Continent (on her father's side, Sayed Faliq).

We meet her in Queen of Shadows, the fifth book in the series.

“I heard what happened this winter. That you went to the warehouse and killed so many of us. You slaughtered rebels - my friends.” That cool, calm mask didn’t so much as flinch. “And yet I’m now supposed to believe you were on our side all along. Forgive me if I’m not forthright with you.” — Nesryn Faliq to Aelin Galathinyus (Queen of Shadows chapter 6)

Nesryn Faliq is shown to be a quiet woman who prefers silence, intelligent and a guard in the city of Riftfort, she was one of the rebels who were working with Ren Allsbrook. We also find out that Chaol Westfall and she were once lovers and at that point retained something of a "friendship".

He’d needed it—the distraction and release—after Lithaen had left him for the charms of Roland Havilliard. Nesryn had just been bored, apparently. She’d never sought him out, never asked when she would see him again, so their encounters had always been initiated by him. A few months later, he hadn’t felt particularly bad when he’d gone to Endovier and stopped seeing her. He’d never told Dorian —or Aelin. And when he’d run into Nesryn three weeks ago at one of the rebel gatherings, she hadn’t seemed to be holding a grudge.

“You look like a man who got punched in the balls,” she said at last.

He cut a glare in her direction. And because he did indeed feel that way, because maybe he was again feeling a bit shattered and reckless, he told her what had happened. Who it had happened with. He trusted her, though. In the three weeks they’d been fighting and plotting and surviving together, he’d had no choice but to trust her. Ren had trusted her. — (Queen of Shadows chapter 7)

Regarding Nesryn and Chaol, from what I understand, the two were fine with what they had, but there came a point where Nesryn had feelings for Chaol that he didn't have for her. I'm not saying that Nesryn was crazy in love with him, but she was starting to fall in love, however, the feelings that Chaol had for her were trust, admiration, friendship and obviously, attraction. Just that. (Also, let's face it, we are talking about Nesryn Faliq, the woman is perfect). And he might even love her, but the kind of love that is more on the side of friendship.

Nesryn knew. She knew it hadn’t been mere interest that had prompted Chaol to ask her to talk to him last night, but guilt. She was fine with it, she told herself. She had been a replacement for not one, but two of the women in his life. A third one… She was fine with it... - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

And still in Queen of Shadows, Nesryn Faliq won my heart when she saved Lysandra's life and Dorian's life. Being the absurdly amazing Archer that she is.

The blade dipped as she (Aelin) decided, and— Impact slammed into her father ’s sword, knocking her off balance as Aedion shouted. The arrow ricocheted into the garden, hissing against the gravel as it landed. Nesryn was already approaching, another arrow drawn, pointed at Aedion.

“Strike the prince, and I’ll shoot the general.” - (Queen of Shadows chapter 19)

........................

Lysandra leaped. The closest guard fired a clean, spiraling shot right for her chest. She knew, with that leopard’s senses, that it would hit home. Yet Lysandra did not slow. She did not stop. For Evangeline. For her future. For her freedom. For the friends who had come for her. The bolt neared her heart. And was knocked from the air by an arrow.

Lysandra landed on the guard’s face and shredded it with her claws. There was only one sharpshooter with that sort of aim. Lysandra loosed a roar, and became a storm of death upon the guards nearest her while arrows rained on the rest. When Lysandra dared look, it was in time to see Nesryn Faliq draw another arrow atop the neighboring rooftop, flanked by her rebels, and fire it clean through the eye of the final guard between Lysandra and the castle.

“Go!” Nesryn shouted over the panicking crowd. - (Queen of Shadows chapter 75)

One thing that makes me admire Nesryn so much, besides the fact that she is a strong woman, is that even when she suffered a huge loss when she was 13, experienced prejudice throughout her childhood for her origins, suffered prejudice at work for being a woman, she didn't give up. She didn't stop fighting. Never. And if that is not an admirable story, I don't know what is.

“I wouldn’t?” A cold question. “You think that I don’t understand what’s at stake? I don’t care about your prince—not the way you do. I care about what he represents for the future of this kingdom, and for the future of people like my family. I won’t allow another immigrant purge to happen. I don’t ever want my sister ’s children coming home with broken noses again because of their foreign blood. You told me Dorian would fix the world, make it better. But if he’s gone, if we made the mistake today in keeping him alive, then I will find another way to attain that future. And another one after that, if I have to. I will keep getting back up, no matter how many times those butchers shove me down.”

He’d never heard so many words from her at once, had never… never even known she had a sister. Or that she was an aunt. Nesryn said, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stay the course, but also plot another one. Adapt.”

His mouth had gone dry. “Were you ever hurt? For your heritage?” Nesryn glanced toward the roaring hearth, her face like ice. “I became a city guard because not a single one of them came to my aid the day the other schoolchildren surrounded me with stones in their hands. Not one, even though they could hear my screaming.” She met his stare again. “Dorian Havilliard offers a better future, but the responsibility also lies with us. With how common people choose to act.” True—so true. - (Queen of Shadows chapter 22)

.................

“Adarlan is not as … open as the khaganate when it comes to embracing the role of women in the ranks of its guards or armies,” she admitted. “While I might be skilled, men usually were promoted. So I was left to rot on patrol duty at the walls or busy streets. Handling the underworld or nobility was left for more important guards. And ones whose families hailed from Adarlan.” Her sister had raged anytime it happened, but Nesryn had known that if she’d exploded to her superiors, if she’d challenged them … They were the sort of men who would tell her to be grateful to be admitted at all, then demand she turn in her sword and uniform. So she’d figured it was better to remain, to be passed over, not for mere pay, but for the fact that there were so few other guards like her, helping those who needed it most. It was for them she stayed on, kept her head down while lesser men were appointed. “Ah.” Another beat of quiet from the prince. “I’ve heard they were not so welcoming toward people from other lands.”

“To say the least.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

The huge loss that Nesryn has suffered:

Nesryn said quietly, “My mother died when I was thirteen.” She gazed up at the near-glowing Torre. “The old king … you know what he did to those with magic. To healers gifted with it. So there was no one who could save my mother from the wasting sickness that crept up on her. The healer we managed to find admitted to us that it was likely from a growth inside my mother’s breast. That she might have been able to cure her before magic vanished. Before it was forbidden.”

She had never told anyone outside of her family this story. Wasn’t sure why she was really telling him now, but she went on, “My father wanted to get her on a boat to sail here. Was desperate to. But war had broken out up and down our lands. Ships were conscripted into Adarlan’s service, and she was too sick to risk a land journey all the way down to Eyllwe to try to cross there. My father combed through every map, every trade route. By the time he found a merchant who would sail with them—just the two of them—to Antica … My mother was so sick she could not be moved. She would not have made it here, even if they’d gotten on the boat.” Sartaq watched her, face unreadable, while she spoke.

Nesryn slid her hands into her pockets. “So she stayed. And we were all there when she … when it was over.” That old grief wrapped around her, burning her eyes. “It took me a few years to feel right again,” she said after a moment. “Two years before I started noticing things like the sun on my face, or the taste of food —started enjoying them again. My father … he held us together. My sister and I. If he mourned, he did not let us see it. He filled our house with as much joy as he could.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 13)

...............

Yew, ash … She plucked up one of the yew bows, testing its weight, its flexibility and resistance. A solid, deadly weapon. Yet familiar. As familiar as an old friend. She had not picked up a bow until her mother’s death, and during those initial years of grief and numbness, the physical training, the concentration and strength required, had been a sanctuary, and a reprieve, and forge. She wondered if any of her old tutors had survived the attack on Rifthold. If any of their arrows had brought down wyverns. Or slowed them enough to save lives. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 30)

In Tower of Dawn we are shown what an interesting character Nesryn is, and like every SJM character, she has also experienced trauma and grief.

An excerpt that sums up Nesryn's personality for us:

Last night, talking with him (with Sartaq) at the party, even talking with him in the alley outside the Torre a few nights before that … She had not felt quiet or aloof or strange. She had not felt cold or distant. He’d done her an honor in giving her such attention, and in escorting her and Chaol back to their rooms. She did not mind company—quiet as she could be, she enjoyed being around others. But sometimes… - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

Something that fascinates me about Nesryn is her development in the series. In Queen of Shadows (and in the beginning of Tower of Dawn) it is as if she is in a cocoon. Closed off to the world and preventing anyone from seeing the beauty within. Because this is one of the best descriptions for Nesryn Faliq. Hard on the outside and sensitive on the inside.

Wind-seeker, her mother had once called her. Unable to keep still, always wandering where the wind calls you. Where shall it beckon you to journey one day, my rose? - (Tower of Dawn chapter 25)

The Modern Nesryn Faliq

Now, let's talk about her prince: Sartaq

We met him in Tower of Dawn, Sartaq is Khagan's second eldest son and the Commander of his father's ruk riders. The Rukhin.

The northern aerial cavalry of his people had long dwelled in the towering Tavan Mountains with their ruks: enormous birds, eagle-like in shape, large enough to carry off cattle and horses. Without the sheer bulk and destructive weight of the Ironteeth witches’ wyverns, but swift and nimble and clever as foxes. The perfect mounts for the legendary archers who flew them into battle.

Sartaq’s face was solemn, his broad shoulders thrown back. A man perhaps as ill at ease in his fine clothes as Chaol. She wondered if his ruk, Kadara, was perched on one of the palace’s thirty-six minarets, eyeing the cowering servants and guards, waiting impatiently for her master’s return. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 2)

Several excerpts about Sartaq and his personality

She yielded a blink. His brown skin was darker than the others’—perhaps from all that time in the skies and sunlight—his eyes a solid ebony. Depthless and unreadable. His black hair remained unbound save for a small braid that curved over the arch of his ear. The rest of his hair fell to just past his muscled chest, and swayed slightly as he gave what Nesryn could have sworn was a mocking incline of his head. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 2)

...................

“I’ve heard the stories.”

“Even in Adarlan?” He lifted a brow. A warrior and a charmer. A dangerous combination, though she could not recall any mention of a spouse. Indeed, no ring marked his finger.

“Even in Adarlan,” Nesryn said, though she did not mention that the average person on the street might not know such tales. But in her house hold… Oh, yes. The Winged Prince, they called him.

.................

“I was twelve when my father brought us all to the mountain aerie. And when I snuck away and climbed onto the captain’s own ruk, soaring into the skies and requiring them to chase me down … My father told me that if I had splattered on the rocks, I would have deserved to die for my stupidity. As punishment, he ordered me to live amongst the rukhin until I could prove I wasn’t a complete fool—a lifetime, he suggested.”

.................

“Thankfully, I did not die of stupidity, and instead came to love the riding, their lifestyle. They gave me hell because I was a prince, but I proved my mettle soon enough. Kadara hatched when I was fifteen, and I raised her myself. I have had no other mount since.” Pride and affection brightened those onyx eyes. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 6)

..................

“Only Fae blades could remain this sharp after a thousand years,” said Sartaq, setting down the knife he’d been inspecting. “Likely forged by the Fae smiths in Asterion, to the east of Doranelle—perhaps even before the first of the demon wars.”

A prince who had studied not only his own empire’s history, but that of many others. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 33)

....................

Nesryn smiled. Charmer. Beneath that unfailingly sure exterior, Sartaq was certainly a shameless flirt. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

................

Borte had insisted that if she, as Houlun’s heir, was to stay, then Sartaq, as the khagan’s potential successor, should remain as well.

To that, Sartaq had merely stalked off into the interior hallways of Altun, saying that if being his father’s successor meant sitting idly by while others fought for him, then his siblings could have the damn crown. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 41)

In order to understand Sartaq further, it is important to know what situation he was in, more precisely, how the Khaganate works. Is something complicated, because in brief, a Khagan has to kill his siblings and their descendants if they might pose any danger or resistance to the Khagan rule. Example: If a Khagan has three siblings, none of whom have had children, all of whom swear loyalty and submission to him, the Khagan may decide to keep them alive, but the three siblings and their companions will be sterilized. Thus making it impossible for anyone to stand up against Khagan.

Unlike Adarlan or Terrasen, inheritance of the empire was decided by the khagan—not by birth order or gender. Having as many children as possible to provide him or her with a wide pool to choose from made that choice only somewhat easier. And rivalry amongst the royal children… It was practically a blood sport. All designed to prove to their parent who was the strongest, the wisest, the most suited to rule.

The khagan was required by law to have a sealed document locked away in an unmarked, hidden trove—a document that listed his or her Heir, should death sweep upon them before it could be formally announced. It could be altered at any time, but it was designed to avoid the one thing the khaganate had lived in fear of since that first khagan had patched together the kingdoms and territories of this continent: collapse. Not from outside forces, but from war within. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 1)

And Sartaq's opinion about it:

Sartaq shrugged. “Kadara is my family. The rukhin, they are my family. My bloodline, though… It’s hard to love one another, when we will one day contend with each other. Love cannot exist without trust.” He smiled at his ruk. “I trust Kadara with my life. I would die for her, and she for me. Can I say the same of my siblings? My own parents?”

“It’s a shame,” Nesryn admitted. “At least I have her,” he said of the ruk. “And my riders. Pity my siblings, who have none of those blessings.”

He was a good man. The prince… he was a good man. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

In fact, Borte and Houlun are more Sartaq's sister and mother than his blood family. Their relationship is quite beautiful. (Borte and Houlun are Sartaq's hearth-sister and hearth-mother).

The Modern Sartaq

Now, finally, let's talk about the couple!!!!

One of the things that makes me love Nestaq so much is that Sartaq is Nesryn's first and biggest fan. He encourages, supports, and admires his woman without reservation.

Nestaq is made up of a wonderful, independent woman, and a perfect man who is not intimidated by his woman's power and doesn't need to do anything over-the-top to make it clear that he is totally a fan of hers.

And I love the fact that from the beginning it was written in the stars, sea and earth that Nesryn and Sartaq had to be together.

Nestaq Moments:

First flight together in Kadara and, as a bonus, we can see that it was already decided: Nesryn was the perfect woman for Sartaq; she loves the Southern Continent and pay attention to how she describes this flight with the prince. (She will make an amazing Grand Empress, get this).

Nesryn had watched the sunrise from the skies. She’d found Prince Sartaq waiting in his aerie in the hour before dawn. The minaret was open to the elements at its uppermost level, and behind the leather-clad prince … Nesryn had braced a hand on the archway to the stairwell, still breathless from the climb.

Kadara was beautiful. Each of the ruk’s golden feathers shone like burnished metal, the white of her breast bright as fresh snow. And her gold eyes had sized Nesryn up immediately. Before Sartaq even turned from where he’d been buckling on the saddle across her broad back. “Captain Faliq,” the prince had said by way of greeting. “You’re up early.” Casual words for any listening ears. “The storm last night kept me from sleep. I hope I am not disturbing you.”

“On the contrary.” In the dim light, his mouth quirked in a smile. “I was about to go for a ride—to let this fat hog hunt for her breakfast for once.” Kadara puffed her feathers in indignation, clicking her enormous beak—fully capable of taking a man’s head off in one snip. No wonder Princess Hasar remained wary of the bird. Sartaq chuckled, patting her feathers. “Care to join?”

.................

“I am not particularly skilled with heights, but it would be my honor, Prince.”

..................

Sartaq had buckled and harnessed them both into the saddle, triple-checking the leather straps. Then he clicked his tongue once, and— Nesryn knew it wasn’t polite to squeeze a prince’s arms so hard the bone was likely to break. But she did so anyway as Kadara spread her shining golden wings and leaped out. Leaped down. Her stomach shot straight up her throat. Her eyes watered and blurred. Wind tore at her, trying to rip her from that saddle, and she clenched with her thighs so tightly they ached, while she gripped Sartaq’s arms, holding the reins, so hard he chuckled in her ear. But the pale buildings of Antica loomed up, near-blue in the early dawn, rushing to meet them as Kadara dove and dove, a star falling from the heavens— Then flared those wings wide and shot upward. Nesryn was glad she had forgone breakfast. For surely it would have come spewing out of her mouth at what the motion did to her stomach.

Within the span of a few beats, Kadara banked right—toward the horizon just turning pink. The sprawl of Antica spread before them, smaller and smaller as they rose into the skies. Until it was no more than a cobblestoned road beneath them, spreading into every direction. Until she could spy the olive groves and wheat fields just outside the city. The country estates and small towns speckled about. The rippling dunes of the northern desert to her left. The sparkling, snaking band of rivers turning golden in the rising sun that crested over the mountains to her right. Sartaq did not speak. Did not point out landmarks. Not even the pale line of the Sister-Road that ran toward the southern horizon. No, in the rising light, he let Kadara have her head. The ruk took them floating higher still, the air turning crisp—the awakening blue sky brightening with each mighty flap of her wings.

Open. So open. Not at all like the endless sea, the tedious waves and cramped ship. This was… this was breath. This was… She could not look fast enough, drink it all in. How small everything was, how lovely and pristine. A land claimed by a conquering nation, yet loved and nurtured. Her land. Her home. (Ana's Note: You're going to be the Grand Empress there, girl, you just don't know it yet😏)

The sun and the scrub and the undulating grasslands that beckoned in the distance. The lush jungles and rice fields to the west; the pale sand dunes of the desert to the northeast. More than she could see in a lifetime—farther than Kadara could fly in a single day. An entire world, this land. The entire world contained here. She could not understand why her father had left. Why he had stayed, when such darkness had crept into Adarlan. Why he had kept them in that festering city where she so rarely looked up at the sky, or felt a breeze that did not reek of the briny Avery or the rubbish rotting in the streets.

“You are quiet,” the prince said, and it was more question than statement. Nesryn admitted in Halha, “I don’t have words to describe it.” She felt Sartaq smile near her shoulder. “That was what I felt—that first ride. And every ride since.”

“I understand why you stayed at the camp those years ago. Why you are eager to return.” A beat of quiet. “Am I so easy to read?”

“How could you not wish to return?”

“Some consider my father’s palace to be the finest in the world.”

“It is.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 12)

This conversation took place during their first flight and I think it was very important for the outcome of the story itself.

“And are you? Willing to hear us out?” Sartaq didn’t answer for a long moment, only the screaming wind filling the quiet. “I would listen. To you and Lord Westfall. I would hear what you know, what has happened to you both. I do not hold as much sway with my father as others, but he knows the ruk riders are loyal to me.”

“I thought—”

“That I was his favorite?” A low, bitter laugh. “I perhaps stand a chance at being named Heir, but the khagan does not select his Heir based on whom he loves best. Even so, that particular honor goes to Duva and Kashin.” Sweet-faced Duva, she could understand, but—“Kashin?”

“He is loyal to my father to a fault. He has never schemed, never backstabbed. I’ve done it—plotted and maneuvered against them all to get what I want. But Kashin... He may command the land armies and the horse-lords, he may be brutal when required, but with my father, he is guileless. There has never been a more loving or loyal son. When our father dies… I worry. What the others will do to Kashin if he does not submit, or worse: what his death will do to Kashin himself.” She dared ask, “What would you do to him?” Destroy him, if he will not swear fealty?

“It remains to be seen what sort of threat or alliance he could pose. Only Duva and Arghun are married, and Arghun has yet to sire offspring. Though Kashin, if he has his way, would likely sweep that young healer off her feet.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 12)

Nesryn agrees to go with Sartaq to the Tavan mountains (where the rukhin live). And anyone who has read Tower of Dawn will remember that the time Nesryn spent with them was very good. I will try to make a compilation of all the times Nesryn felt at home in Eridun.

His face remained neutral, even as he added, “I’m sure your family will have my head for offering, but … would you like to accompany me?” Yes, she wanted to breathe. But she made herself ask, “For how long?” For time was not on her side. Their side. And to hunt for answers while so many threats gathered close… “A few weeks. No more than three. I like to keep the riders in line, and if I go absent for too long, they pull at the leash. So the journey will serve two purposes, I suppose.”

“I—I would need to discuss. With Lord Westfall.” She’d promised him as much last night. That they’d consider this precise path, weighing the pitfalls and benefits. They were still a team in that regard, still served under the same banner. Sartaq nodded solemnly, as if he could read everything on her face. “Of course. Though I leave soon.” She then heard it—the grunt of servants coming up the aerie stairs. Bringing supplies.

“You leave now,” Nesryn clarified as she noted the spear leaning against the far wall near the supply racks. His sulde. The russet horsehair tied beneath the blade drifted in the wind weaving through the aerie, the dark wood shaft polished and smooth. Sartaq’s onyx eyes seemed to darken further as he strode to his sulde, weighing the spirit-banner in his hands before resting it beside him, the wood thunking on the stone floor. “I…” It was the first she’d seen him stumble for words.

“You weren’t going to say good-bye?” She had no right to make such demands, expect such things, tentative allies or no. But Sartaq leaned his sulde against the wall again and began braiding back his black hair. “After last night’s party, I had thought you would be … preoccupied.”

With Chaol. Her brows rose. “All day?” The prince gave her a roguish smile, finishing off his long braid and picking up his spear once more. “I certainly would take all day.”

..............

Sartaq was still watching, his face carefully neutral as the last of the servants bowed and vanished. His sulde had been strapped just below the saddle, within easy reach should the prince need it, its reddish horsehairs trailing in the wind. Trailing southward. Toward that distant, wild land of the Tavan Mountains. Beckoning, as all spirit-banners did, toward an unknown horizon. Beckoning to claim whatever waited there. Nesryn said quietly, “Yes.”

The prince blinked. “I will go with you,” she clarified. A small smile tugged on his mouth. “Good.”

.............

She found Sartaq atop Kadara, waiting for her. The prince extended a callused hand to help her up into the saddle. She didn’t hesitate as she took his hand, his strong fingers wrapping around hers, and let him pull her into the saddle before him. He strapped and buckled them in, checked all of it thrice. But he reined in Kadara when she would have soared out of the minaret. Sartaq whispered in Nesryn’s ear, “I was praying to the Eternal Sky and all thirty-six gods that you’d say yes.” She smiled, even if he couldn’t see it.

“So was I,” Nesryn breathed, and they leaped into the skies. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

OK, I HAVE NO DESCRIPTION FOR THAT MOMENT. “So don’t be surprised if there’s now a story or two about you already finding its way across the world.”

“And what are the tales they tell about you, Nesryn Faliq?” She chewed on the salted pork. “No one has any stories about me.” It didn’t bother her. Fame, notoriety … She valued other things more, she supposed.

“Not even the story about the arrow that saved a shape-shifter’s life? The impossible shot fired from a rooftop?” She snapped her head toward him. Sartaq only swigged from his water with a look that said, I told you my spies were good.

.............

“Neith’s Arrow,” Sartaq said after uncounted minutes, leaning back against the rock. Nesryn dragged her gaze from the stars to find his face limned in moonlight, silver dancing along the pure onyx of his braid. He rested his forearms on his knees. “That’s what my spies called you, what I called you until you arrived. Neith’s Arrow.” The Goddess of Archery—and the Hunt, originally hailing from an ancient sand-swept kingdom to the west, now enfolded into the khaganate’s vast pantheon. A corner of his mouth tugged upward. “So don’t be surprised if there’s now a story or two about you already finding its way across the world.”

Nesryn observed him for a long moment, the howling mountain wind blending with Kadara’s snoring. She’d always excelled at archery, took pride in her unmatched aim, but she had not learned because she coveted renown. She’d done it because she enjoyed it, because it gave her a direction to aim that wind-seeking inclination. And yet …

Sartaq cleared away the last of the food and did a quick check that the campsite was secure before heading off between the boulders himself. With only those foreign stars to witness, Nesryn smiled. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 25)

That conversation...... Without words. Nestaq is the serious couple that knows how to be hilarious.

“Were you ever—”

“It’s not worth talking about.” Not when she could sometimes still feel that rock as it collided with her head, hear the taunts of those children. She swallowed and added, “Your Highness.” A low laugh. “So my title makes an appearance again.” But he didn’t press further. He only said, “I’m going to beg you not to call me Prince or Your Highness around the other riders.”

“You’re going to beg me, or you are?” His arms tightened around her in mock warning. “It took me years to get them to stop asking if I needed my silk slippers or servants to brush my hair.” Nesryn chuckled. “Amongst them, I am simply Sartaq.” He added, “Or Captain.”

“Captain?”

“Another thing you and I have in common, it seems.” Shameless flirt indeed. “But you rule all six ruk clans. They answer to you.”

“They do, and when we all gather, I am Prince. But amongst my family’s own clan, the Eridun, I captain their forces. And obey the word of my hearth-mother.” He squeezed her again for emphasis. “Which I’d advise you doing as well, if you don’t want to be stripped and tied to a cliff face in the middle of a storm.”

“Holy gods.”

“Indeed.”

“Did she—”

“Yes. And as you said, it’s not worth talking about.” But Nesryn chuckled again, surprised to find her face aching from smiling so often these past few minutes. “I appreciate the warning, Captain.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

"Emissary or bride?" “Sartaq never brings such pretty ladies home—from Adarlan or Antica. Be careful walking around the cliff edges, Captain Faliq, or some of the girls here might give you a shove.” Borte, you are of my clan, girl.

A faint gleam of approval entered Borte’s dark eyes just before the girl jerked her chin toward Nesryn. “A Balruhni woman in the leathers of a rukhin. Now, there’s a sight.” Sartaq didn’t answer. He only glanced in Nesryn’s direction. An invitation. And challenge. So Nesryn slipped her hands into the pockets of her close-fitting pants and sauntered to the prince’s side. “Will it be improved if I tell you I caught Sartaq filing his nails this morning?”

Borte stared at Nesryn, blinking once. Then she tipped back her head and howled. Sartaq threw an approving yet beleaguered glance in Nesryn’s direction before saying, “Meet my hearth-sister, Borte. Granddaughter and heir of my hearth-mother, Houlun.” He reached between them to tug one of Borte’s braids. She batted his hand away. “Borte, meet Captain Nesryn Faliq.” He paused for a breath, then added, “Of the Royal Guard of Adarlan.” Silence. Borte’s arched dark brows rose. An aging man in rukhin leathers pressed forward. “But what is more unusual: that a Balruhni woman is their captain, or that a captain of Adarlan has ventured so far?” Borte waved the man off. “Always the idle chatter and questions with you,” she scolded him. And to Nesryn’s shock, the man winced and shut his mouth. “The real question is...” A sly grin at Sartaq. “Does she come as emissary or bride?” Any attempt at a steady, cool, calm appearance vanished as Nesryn gaped at the girl. Right as Sartaq snapped, “Borte.”

Borte gave a downright wicked grin. “Sartaq never brings such pretty ladies home—from Adarlan or Antica. Be careful walking around the cliff edges, Captain Faliq, or some of the girls here might give you a shove.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

I didn't know whether to smile or scream.

Sartaq’s smile grew. “Perhaps we could also do a bit of archery practice.” He looked her over with a frankness that made her shift in her seat. “I’m certainly keen to match myself against Neith’s Arrow, and I’m sure the young warriors are, too.” Nesryn pushed back her own plate, brows lifting. “They’ve heard of me?” Sartaq grinned. “I might have told a story or two the last time I came here. Why do you think there were so many people gathered when we arrived? They certainly don’t usually bother to drag themselves here to see me.” “But Borte seemed like she’d never—”

“Does Borte seem like a person who gives anyone an easy time?” Something deeper in her warmed. “No. But how could they have known I was coming?” His answering grin was the portrait of princely arrogance. “Because I sent word a day before that you were likely to join me.” Nesryn gaped at him, unable to maintain that mask of calm. Rising, Sartaq scooped up their plates. “I told you that I was praying you’d join me, Nesryn Faliq. If I’d shown up empty-handed, Borte would have never let me hear the end of it.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

"They didn’t mention that you’re beautiful." huh huh!!

“Pick a mark,” Nesryn told Borte. The woman smirked. “Neck, heart, head.” She pointed to each of the three dummies, a different mark for each one. Wind rattled them, the aim and strength needed to hit each utterly different. Borte knew it—all the warriors here did. Nesryn lifted an arm behind her head, dragging her fingers along the fletching, the feathers rippling against her skin as she scanned the three targets. Listened to the murmur of the winds racing past Rokhal, that wild summons she heard echoed in her own heart. Wind-seeker, her mother had called her. One after another, Nesryn withdrew an arrow and fired.

Again, and again, and again.

Again, and again, and again.

Again, and again, and again.

And when she finished, only the howling wind answered—the wind of Torke, the Roarer. Every training ring had stopped. Staring at what she’d done. Instead of three arrows distributed amongst the three dummies, she’d fired nine. Three rows of perfectly aligned shots on each: heart, neck, and head. Not an inch of difference. Even with the singing winds. Sartaq was grinning when she turned to him, his long braid drifting behind him, as if it were a sulde itself. But Borte elbowed past him, and breathed to Nesryn, “Show me.”

...................

But then Sartaq said, “You’re a good teacher.”

“Thank you.” It was all she could think to say. He’d kept close to her side while she walked the others through her various positions and techniques, but had said little. A leader who did not need to constantly be filling the air with talking and boasting. He blew out a breath, shoulders loosening. “And I’m relieved to see that the reality lives up to the legend.” Nesryn chuckled, grateful to be back on safer ground. “You had doubts?” They reached the landing that would take them to the great hall. Sartaq let her fall into step beside him. “The reports left out some key information. It made me doubt their accuracy.” It was the sly gleam in his eye that made Nesryn angle her head. “What, exactly, did they fail to mention?” They reached the great hall, empty save for a cloaked figure just barely visible on the other side of the fire pit—and someone sitting beside her.

But Sartaq turned to her, examining her from head to toe and back again. There was little that he missed. “They didn’t mention that you’re beautiful.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 30)

Nesryn saving Sartaq's life.

“Don’t.” He gave her an incredulous look over his shoulder. Nesryn kept her own face like stone. “Your ej said these towers were laid with traps. Just because we have yet to see one does not mean they are not still here.” She pointed with her arrow toward the open archway to the levels belowground. “We keep quiet, tread carefully. I go first.” To hell with being the rearguard, if he was prone to plunging into danger. The prince’s eyes flared, but she didn’t let him object. “I faced some of the horrors of Morath this spring and summer. I know how to mark them—and where to strike.” Sartaq looked her over again. “You really should have been promoted.” Nesryn smiled, releasing his muscled bicep. Wincing as she realized the liberties she’d taken by grabbing him, touching a prince without permission—

“Two captains, remember?” he said, noting the cringe she failed to hide. Indeed. Nesryn inclined her head and stepped in front of him—and into the archway of the stairs leading below. Her arm strained as she pulled the bowstring taut, scanning the darkness immediately beyond the stairwell entrance. When nothing leaped out, she slackened the bow, placed her arrow back in the quiver, and plucked up a handful of rocks from the ground, shards and chips from the felled blocks of stone around them. A step behind, Sartaq did the same, filling his pockets with them. Listening carefully, Nesryn rolled one of the rocks down the spiral stairs, letting it bounce and crack and— A faint click, and Nesryn hurled herself back, slamming into Sartaq and sending them both sprawling to the ground. A thud sounded within the stairwell below, then another. In the quiet that followed, her heavy breathing the only sound, she listened again. “Hidden bolts,” she observed, wincing as she found Sartaq’s face mere inches away. His eyes were upon the stairwell, even as he kept a hand on her back, the other angling his long knife toward the archway.

“Seems I owe you my life, Captain,” Sartaq said, and Nesryn quickly peeled back, offering a hand to help him rise. He clasped it, his hand warm around hers as she hauled him to his feet. “Don’t worry,” Nesryn said drily. “I won’t tell Borte.” She plucked up another handful of rocks and sent them rolling and scattering down the gloom of the stairs. A few more clicks and thumps—then silence. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 33)

Sartaq saving Nesryn's life.

Click. Nesryn was so focused on the wall ahead that she didn’t consider where the click had come from. Not in front, but below. One heartbeat, she was crouched on a step. The next, it had slid away beneath her feet, a black pit yawning open beneath— Strong hands wrapped around her shoulder, her collar, a blade clattering on stone— Nesryn scrabbled for the lip of the nearest stair as Sartaq held her, grunting at her weight, his long knife tumbling into the blackness beneath. Metal hit metal. Bounced off it again and again, the clanking filling the stairwell. Spikes. Likely a field of metal spikes—

Sartaq hauled her up, and her nails cracked on stone as she grappled for purchase on the smooth step. But then she was up, half sprawled on the stairs between Sartaq’s legs, both of them panting as they peered to the gap beyond. “I think we’re even,” Nesryn said, fighting and failing to master her shaking. The prince clasped her shoulder, while his other hand brushed down the back of her head. A comforting, casual touch. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 33)

We know who's in command in the relationship

Nesryn caught him before he could eat dirt, and snapped at Sartaq, “If you don’t get him bandages and supplies right now, I’ll give you a wound to match.” The prince blinked at her, mouth falling open. Then he whistled through his teeth, sharp and swift, while he strode for Kadara, his steps clipped. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 35)

This is more how Nesryn felt among the rukhin than a Nestaq moment. I'm going to kind of open a giant parenthesis to leave this here.

She’d never seen anything so great and unforgiving, so vast and beautiful. And even though she was as insignificant as a mayfly compared with the size of the mountains around them, some piece of her felt keenly a part of it, born from it. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 30)

................

It was the warm welcome that still surprised her. The smiles of the rukhin who asked, some shyly, some boldly, for demonstrations with her bow and arrow. But for all she showed them, she, too, learned. Went soaring with Sartaq through the mountain passes, the prince calling out targets and Nesryn striking them, learning how to fire into the wind, as the wind. He even let her ride Kadara alone—just once, and enough for her to again wonder how they let four-year-olds do it, but … she’d never felt so unleashed. So unburdened and unbridled and yet settled in herself.

So they went, clan to clan, hearth to hearth. Sartaq checking up on the riders and their training, stopping to visit new babes and ailing old folk. Nesryn remained his shadow—or tried to. Anytime she lingered a step back, Sartaq nudged her forward. Anytime there was a task to be done with the others, he asked her to do it. The washing-up after a meal, the returning of arrows from target practice, the cleaning-out of the ruk droppings from halls and nests. The last task, at least, the prince joined her in. No matter his rank, no matter his status as captain, he did every chore without a word of complaint. No one was above work, he told her when she’d asked one night. And whether she was scraping crusted droppings from the ground or teaching young warriors how to string a bow, something restless in her had settled.

She could no longer picture it—the quiet meetings at the palace in Rifthold where she had given solemn guards their orders and then parted ways amongst marble floors and finery. Could not remember the city barracks, where she’d lurked in the back of a crowded room, gotten her orders, and then stood on a street corner for hours, watching people buy and eat and argue and walk about. Another lifetime, another world. Here in the deep mountains, breathing in the crisp air, seated around the fire pit to hear Houlun narrate tales of rukhin and the horse-lords, tales of the first khagan and his beloved wife, whom Borte had been named after… She could not remember that life before. And did not want to go back to it. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 37)

“Another tale to spread of Neith’s Arrow.” I didn't cry here. And beautiful, smart, excellent archer, and sings well. Nesryn Faliq, the complete package.

“But I can sing for you.” Silence. Houlun set down her whetstone. “A song would be appreciated.” A scowl at Borte and Sartaq. “Since neither of my children can carry a tune to save their lives.” Borte rolled her eyes at her hearth-mother, but Sartaq bowed his head in apology, a crooked grin now on his mouth. Nesryn smiled, even as her heart pounded at her bold offer. She’d never really performed for anyone, but this … It was not performing, as much as it was sharing. She listened to the wind whispering outside the cave mouth for a long moment, the others falling quiet.

“This is a song of Adarlan,” she said at last. “From the foothills north of Rifthold, where my mother was born.” An old, familiar ache filled her chest. “She used to sing this to me—before she died.” A glimmer of sympathy in Houlun’s steely gaze. But Nesryn glanced to Borte as she spoke, finding the young woman’s face unusually soft—staring at Nesryn as if she had not seen her before. Nesryn gave her a small, subtle nod. It is a weight we both bear. Borte offered a small, quiet smile in return. Nesryn listened to the wind again. Let herself drift back to her pretty little bedroom in Rifthold, let herself feel her mother’s silken hands stroking her face, her hair. She had been so taken with her father’s stories of his far-off homeland, of the ruks and horse-lords, that she had rarely asked for anything about Adarlan itself, despite being a child of both lands.

And this song of her mother’s … One of the few stories she had, in the form she loved best. Of her homeland in better days. And she wanted to share it with them—that glimpse into what her land might again become. Nesryn cleared her throat. Took a bracing breath. And then she opened her mouth and sang. The crackle of the fire her only drum, Nesryn’s voice filled the Mountain-Hall of Altun, wending through the ancient pillars, bouncing off the carved rock. She had the sense of Sartaq going very still, had the sense that there was nothing hard or laughing on his face. But she focused on the song, on those long-ago words, that story of distant winters and speckles of blood on snow; that story of mothers and their daughters, how they loved and fought and tended to each other.

Her voice soared and fell, bold and graceful as a ruk, and Nesryn could have sworn that even the howling winds paused to listen. And when she finished, a gilded, high note of the spring sun breaking across cold lands, when silence and the crackling fire filled the world once more… Borte was crying. Silent tears streaming down her pretty face. Houlun’s hand was tightly wrapped around her granddaughter’s, the whetstone set aside. A wound still healing—for both of them.

And perhaps Sartaq, too—for grief limned his face. Grief, and awe, and perhaps something infinitely more tender as he said, “Another tale to spread of Neith’s Arrow.”

She ducked her head again, accepting the praise of the others with a smile. Falkan clapped as best he could manage and called for another song. Nesryn, to her surprise, obliged them. A merry, bright mountain song her father had taught her, of rushing streams amid blooming fields of wildflowers. But even as the night moved on, as Nesryn sang in that beautiful mountain-hall, she felt Sartaq’s stare. Different from any he’d given before. And though she told herself she should, Nesryn did not look away. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 37)

I can't be the only person who is passionate about the conversations Nestaq has in the sky.

Nesryn chewed her lip. “Why—why is it that you haven’t married?” She’d never had the nerve to ask. Though she’d certainly found herself wondering it during these weeks. Sartaq’s hands flexed on the reins before he answered. “I’ve been too busy. And the women who have been presented as potential brides… They were not for me.”She had no right to pry, but she asked, “Why?” (Ana's Note: because them were not you, duh.)

“Because whenever I showed them Kadara, they either cowered, or pretended to be interested in her, or asked just how much time I’d be spending away.”

“Hoping for frequent absences, or because they’d miss you?” Sartaq chuckled. “I couldn’t tell. The question itself felt like enough of a leash that I knew they were not for me.”

“So your father allows you to wed where you will?” Dangerous, strange territory. She waited for him to tease her about it, but Sartaq fell quiet. “Yes. Even Duva’s arranged marriage … She was all for it. Said she didn’t want to have to sort through a court of snakes to find one good man and still pray he hadn’t deceived her. I wonder if there’s something to be said for it. She lucked out, anyway—quiet as he is, her husband adores her. I saw his face the moment they met. Saw hers, too. Relief, and … something more.” And what would become of them—of their child—if another Heir were chosen for the throne? Nesryn asked carefully, “Why not end this tradition of competing with each other?” Sartaq was silent for a long minute. “Perhaps one day, whoever takes the throne will end it. Love their siblings more than they honor the tradition. I like to believe we have moved past who we were centuries ago—when the empire was still fledgling. But perhaps now, these years of relative peace, perhaps this is the dangerous time.” He shrugged, his body shifting against hers. “Perhaps war will sort the matter of succession for us.” And maybe it was because they were so high above the world, because that dim land swept ever closer, but Nesryn asked, “There is nothing that would keep you from war if it called, then?”

“You sound as if you are reconsidering this goal of yours to drag us into the north.” She stiffened. “I will admit that these weeks here … It was easier before to ask for your aid. When the rukhin were a nameless, faceless legion. When I did not know their names, their families. When I did not know Houlun, or Borte. Or that Borte is betrothed.” A low laugh at that. Borte had refused—outright refused—to answer Nesryn’s questions about Yeran. She said it wasn’t even worth talking about. “I’m sure Borte would be glad to go to war, if only to compete with Yeran for glory on the battlefield.”

“A true love match, then.” Sartaq smiled at her ear. “You have no idea.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 41)

It was all too intense here, damn spiders, Kadara hurt, Nesryn and Sartaq almost dying, the confession... And no, I didn't cry. Again. You realize how important Kadara is to the Sartaq.

Sartaq pivoted them, his body a solid wall around hers as Nesryn realized where the sky was, where the pass floor was— He roared as they struck the shale, as he kept her atop him, taking the full brunt of the impact.

.................

“Not broken,” he rasped. “Not broken.” It was more to himself than her. But Nesryn managed to keep her fingers steady as she freed the buckles. The thick riding leathers had saved his life, saved his skin from being flayed off his bones. He’d taken the impact for her, moved her so that he’d hit it first— She clawed at the shale covering his shoulders and his upper arms, sharp rock cutting into her fingers. The leather strap at the end of her braid had come free in the impact, and her hair now fell about her face, half blocking her view of the forest behind and rock around them. “Get up,” she panted. “Get up.” He took a breath, blinking furiously. “Get up,” she begged him. Shale shifted ahead, and a low, pained cry echoed off the rock. Sartaq snapped upright. “Kadara—”

................

The mighty ruk tried and failed to rise. “FLY,” Sartaq bellowed. Slowly, so slowly the ruk lumbered to her legs, her scraped beak dragging through the loose rock. She wasn’t going to make it. Wasn’t going to get airborne in time. For just beyond the web-shrouded tree line… Shadows writhed. Scuttled closer. Nesryn sheathed her sword and drew her bow, arrow shaking as she aimed it toward the rock the hatchling had been hauled behind, then the trees a hundred yards off.

“Go, Kadara,” Sartaq begged. “Get up!” The bird was barely in shape to fly, let alone carry riders— Rock clacked and skittered behind her. From the labyrinth of rock within the pass. Trapped. They were trapped— Falkan shifted in her pocket, trying to wriggle free. Nesryn covered him with her forearm, pressing hard. “Not yet,” she breathed. “Not yet.” His powers were not Lysandra’s. He had tried and failed to shift into a ruk this week. But the large wolf was as big as he could manage. Anything larger was beyond his magic.

“Kadara—” The first of the spiders broke from the tree line. As black and sleek as her fallen sister. Nesryn let her arrow fly. The spider fell back, screaming—an unholy sound that shook the rocks as that arrow sank into an eye. Nesryn instantly had another arrow drawn, backing toward Kadara, who was just now beginning to flap her wings— The ruk stumbled. Sartaq screamed, “FLY!”

Wind stirred Nesryn’s hair, sending shards of shale skittering. The ground rumbled behind, but Nesryn did not dare take her eyes off the second spider that emerged from the trees. She fired again, the song of her arrow drowned out by the flap of Kadara’s wings. A heavy, pained beat, but it held steady— Nesryn glanced behind for a breath. Just one, just to see Kadara bobbing and waving, fighting for every wing beat upward through the narrow pass, blood and shale dripping from her. Right as a kharankui emerged from one of the shadows of the rocks high up the peak, legs bending as if it would leap upon the ruk’s back— Nesryn fired, a second arrow on its tail. Sartaq’s. Both found their marks. One through an eye, the other through the open mouth of the spider. It shrieked, tumbling down from its perch. Kadara swung wide to dodge it, narrowly avoiding the jagged face of the peak. The spider’s splat thudded through the maze of rock ahead. But then Kadara was up, into the gray sky, flapping like hell. Sartaq whirled toward Nesryn just as she looked back at the pine forest. To where half a dozen kharankui now emerged, hissing. Blood coated the prince, his every breath ragged, but he managed to grab Nesryn’s arm and breathe, “Run.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 42)

................

Nesryn just pushed onward, the pass becoming a fraction wider, counting her breaths. They were likely some of her last— Thinking that way helped no one and nothing. She’d stared down death this summer, when that wave of glass had come crashing toward her. Had stared it down, and been saved. Perhaps she would be lucky again, too. Sartaq stumbled out behind her, breathing hard. Water. They desperately needed water—and bandages for his wounds. If the spiders did not find them, then the lack of water in the arid pass might very well kill them first. Long before any help arrived from the Eridun rukhin. Nesryn forced one step in front of another, the path narrowing again, the rock as tight as a vise. She twisted sideways, edging through, her swords scraping. Sartaq grunted, then let out a pained curse. “I’m stuck.”

She found him indeed wedged behind her, the bulk of his broad chest and shoulders pinned. He shoved himself forward, blood leaking from his wounds as he pushed and pulled. “Stop,” she ordered. “Stop—wriggle back out if you can.” There was no other way through and nothing to climb over, but if they removed his weapons— His dark eyes met hers. She saw the words forming. You keep going.

“Sartaq,” she breathed. They heard it then. Claws clicking on stone. Skittering along. Many of them. Too many. Coming from behind, closing in. Nesryn grabbed the prince’s hand, tugging. “Push,” she panted. “Push.” He grunted in pain, the veins in his neck bulging as he tried to squeeze through, his boots scraping on the loose rock— Nesryn dug her own feet in, gritting her teeth as she hauled him forward. Click, click, click—

“Harder,” she gasped. Sartaq angled his head, shoving against the rock that held him.

“What a fine morsel, our guest,” hissed a soft female voice. “So large he cannot even fit through the passage. How we shall feast.” Nesryn heaved and heaved, her grip treacherously slippery with sweat and blood from both of them, but she clamped onto his wrist hard enough that she felt bones shift beneath—

“Go,” he whispered, straining to push through. “You run.” Falkan was shifting in her pocket, trying to emerge. But with the rock pressing on her chest, the passage was too tight for even him to poke out his head—

“A pretty pair,” that female continued. “How her hair shines like a moonless night. We shall take you both back to our home, our honored guests.” A sob clawed its way up Nesryn’s throat. “Please,” she begged, scanning the rock high above them, the lip into the upper reaches of the narrow pass, the curving horns of the peaks, tugging and tugging on Sartaq’s arm. “Please,” she begged them, begged anyone.

But Sartaq’s face went calm. So calm. He stopped pushing, stopped trying to haul himself forward. Nesryn shook her head, pulling on his arm. He did not move. Not an inch. His dark eyes met hers. There was no fear in them. Sartaq said to her, clear and steady, “I heard the spies’ stories of you. The fearless Balruhni woman in Adarlan’s empire. Neith’s Arrow. And I knew…” Nesryn sobbed, tugging and tugging. (Ana's Note: here I was almost creating a new ocean with so many tears)

Sartaq smiled at her—gently. Sweetly. In a way she had not yet seen. “I loved you before I ever set eyes on you,” he said. “Please,” Nesryn wept. Sartaq’s hand tightened on hers. “I wish we’d had time.” A hiss behind him, a rising bulk of shining black— Then the prince was gone. Ripped from her hands.

As if he had never been. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 47)

Coming out of hell at last.

Another cry split the night, one she’d learned as well as her own voice. And there was Kadara, sailing hard for them, two other ruks in her wake. Sartaq let out what might have been a sob as one of the other ruks broke away, diving to where Borte swept and lunged and shattered through the kharankui ranks.

..............

Borte was not done. A light sparked atop her ruk. A flaming arrow. Borte fired it high into the sky. A signal, Nesryn realized as countless wings filled the air around them. And as Borte’s arrow landed atop a web, flame erupting, hundreds of lights kindled in the sky. Ruk riders. Each bearing a flaming arrow. Each now pointing downward. Like a rain of shooting stars, the arrows fell upon the darkness of Dagul. Landed on web and tree. And caught fire. One after another after another.

Until the night was lit up, until smoke streamed, mingling with the rising screams from the peaks and wood. The ruks veered northward, Nesryn shaking as she clung to the talons holding her. Across the way, Sartaq met her gaze, his now-shoulder-length hair rippling in the wind. With the flames below, it made the wounds to his face, his hands, his neck all the more gruesome. His skin was wan, his lips pale, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and relief. And yet…

Sartaq smiled, barely a curve of his mouth. The words the prince had confessed drifted on the wind between them. She could not take her eyes from him. Could not look away. So Nesryn smiled back.

And below and behind them, long into the night, the Dagul Fells burned. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 51)

She loves him, yes. No one can tell me otherwise. Look at this relationship. Look how they interact. Only one thing: perfection.

When Nesryn faced Sartaq, it was in time to see him sway. She lunged, her aching body protesting as she caught the prince around the middle. Someone shouted for a healer, but Sartaq got his legs beneath him, even as he kept his arms about her. Nesryn found herself disinclined to remove her own arms from his waist. Sartaq stared down at her, that soft, sweet smile on his mouth again. “You saved me.”

“It seemed a sorry end for the tales of the Winged Prince,” she replied, frowning at the gash in his leg. “You should be sitting—” Across the hall, light flashed, people cried out… and then the spider was gone. Replaced by a man, covered in slashing cuts and blood. When Nesryn looked back, Sartaq’s gaze was on her face. Her throat closed up, her mouth pressing into a trembling line as she realized that they were here. They were here, and alive, and she had never known such true terror and despair as she had in those moments when he had been hauled away.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his mouth over the tears that escaped. He said against her skin, “Whatever would they say about Neith’s Arrow then?” Nesryn laughed despite herself, despite what had happened, and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she dared, resting her head against his chest. Sartaq just wordlessly stroked her hair and held her right back.

...............

Nesryn had slept the entirety of the day before. Not in her room, but curled in bed beside the prince now standing with her before the assembled group. They had both been patched up and bathed, and though Sartaq had not so much as kissed her… Nesryn had not objected when he led her by the hand and limped into his bedroom. So they had slept. And when they had awoken, when their wounds had been rebandaged, they’d emerged to find the hall full of riders. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 57)

In this scene, I really see them as the future Khagan and future Grand Empress. And together, leading, the two do not complete each other, they overflow each other.

All eyes shifted between them, some warm and welcoming, some worried, some hard. Sartaq said to the group gathered, “The kharankui have stirred again.” Murmurs and shifting rustled through the hall. “And though the threat was dealt with bravely and fiercely by the Berlad clan, the spiders will likely return again. They have heard a dark call through the world. And they are poised to answer it.” Nesryn stepped forward. Lifted her chin. And though the words filled her with dread, speaking them here felt as natural as breathing. “We learned many things in the Pass of Dagul,” Nesryn said, voice ringing out across the pillars and stones of the hall. “Things that will change the war in the north. And change this world.” Every eye was on her now. Houlun nodded from her spot near Borte, who smiled in encouragement. Yeran sat nearby, half watching his betrothed. Sartaq’s fingers brushed hers. Once—in urging. And promise.

“We do not face an army of men in the northern continent,” Nesryn went on. “But of demons. And if we do not rise to meet this threat, if we do not rise to meet it as one people, of all lands… Then we will find our doom instead.” So she told them. The full history. Of Erawan. And Maeve. She did not mention the quest for the keys, but by the time she was done, the hall was astir as clans whispered to one another.

“I leave this choice to you,” Sartaq said, voice unfaltering. “The horrors in the Dagul Fells are only the start. I will pass no judgment, should you choose to remain. But all who fly with me, we soar under the khagan’s banner. We shall leave you to debate amongst yourselves.” And with that, taking Nesryn by the hand, Sartaq led her from the hall, Falkan falling into step behind them. Borte and Houlun remained, as heads of the Eridun clan. Nesryn knew how they would side, that they would fly north, but the others… - (Tower of Dawn chapter 57)

Back to Antica. Finally, Nesryn and Chaol are resolved. The Rukhin ready to go to war. Sartaq ready to marry.

“I know,” Sartaq said quietly. The prince turned to Nesryn, and as she held his stare … Chaol saw it. The glimmer between them. A bond, new and trembling. But there it was, right along with the cuts and wounds they both bore. “I know,” Sartaq said again, his fingers brushing Nesryn’s.

Nesryn met Chaol’s eyes then. She smiled softly at him, glancing to where Yrene now asked Hafiza about whether she could stand. He’d never seen Nesryn appear so … settled. So quietly happy. Chaol swallowed. I’m sorry, he said silently. Nesryn shook her head as Sartaq scooped his sister into his arms with a grunt, the prince balancing his weight on his good leg. I think I did just fine.

Chaol smiled. Then I am happy for you.

................

Nesryn wiped away her tears as Chaol closed the distance between them and embraced her tightly. “Thank you,” he said in Nesryn’s ear. She squeezed him back. “Thank you—for bringing me here. To all of this.” To the prince who now looked at Nesryn with a quiet, burning sort of emotion. She added, “We have many things to tell you.” Chaol nodded. “And we you.”

They pulled apart, and Yrene approached—throwing her arms around Nesryn as well. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 64)

And honestly, I love the fact that Nesryn and Yrene get along. There are people who wanted the two to hate each other and I'm like: people, why?

This is not a Nestaq moment either, it is a point about Nesryn and Salkhi, which in a way, Sartaq was the one who gave it a little push to happen.

“That one over there,” the prince said at last, pointing to a reddish-brown ruk sitting by the opposite wall. She’d seen the ruk often—mostly noting that he was alone, never visited by a rider, unlike some of the others. “His rider died a few months back. Clutched at his chest in a meal and died. The rider was old, but the ruk …” Sartaq smiled sadly at the bird. “He’s young—not yet four.”

“What happens to the ones whose riders die?”

“We offer them freedom. Some fly off to the wilds. Some remain.” Sartaq crossed his arms. “He remained.”

“Do they ever get new riders?”

“Some do. If they accept them. It is the ruk’s choice.” Nesryn heard the invitation in his voice. Read it in the prince’s eyes. Her throat tightened. “Our three weeks are up.”

“Indeed they are.” She faced the prince fully, tilting her head back to see his face. “We need more time.”

“So what did you say?”A simple question. But she’d taken hours to figure out how to word her letter to Chaol, then given it to Sartaq’s fastest messenger. “I asked for another three weeks.” He angled his head, watching her with that unrelenting intensity. “A great deal can happen in three weeks.” Nesryn made herself keep her shoulders squared, chin high. “Even so, at the end of it, I must return to Antica.” Sartaq nodded, though something like disappointment guttered his eyes. “Then I suppose the ruk in the aerie will have to wait for another rider to come along.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 37)

......................

Nesryn murmured to the bird, guiding him toward the Runni Quarter while they flew on a salt-kissed breeze as fast as his wings could carry them. She had claimed him upon leaving the Eridun aerie.

Had gone right to the nests, where he had still waited for a rider who would never return, and looked deep into his golden eyes. Had told him that her name was Nesryn Faliq, and she was daughter of Sayed and Cybele Faliq, and that she would be his rider, if he would have her. She wondered if the ruk, whose late rider had called him Salkhi, had known the burning in her eyes had not been from the roaring wind as he’d bowed his head to her. Then she’d flown him, Salkhi keeping pace with Kadara at the head of the host as the rukhin sailed northward. Raced to Antica. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 66)

I SIMPLY HAVE NO WORDS. I am completely in love with the Sartaq (with all due respect, Nesryn). And guys, here's a big Appreciation to Nesryn's family too. I love them. Her father, her sister, her nephews and nieces, her uncle and aunt, her cousins....... What a people..... They are one of the funniest families I have ever seen in my life.

How Sartaq found her two hours later, Nesryn didn’t know. Though she supposed a ruk sitting in the street of a fancy quarter of Antica was sure to cause a stir. And be easy to spot. She had wept and laughed and held her family for untold minutes, right in the middle of the street, Salkhi looking on. And when her uncle and aunt had called them in to at least cry over a good cup of tea, her family had told her of their adventures. The wild seas they had sailed, the enemies their ship had dodged on their voyage here. But they had made it—and here they would stay while the war raged, her father said, to the nods of her uncle and aunt. When she emerged from the house gates at last, her father claiming the honor of escorting Nesryn to Salkhi—after he’d shooed off her sister to go manage that circus of children—Nesryn had halted so quickly her father had nearly slammed into her.

Because standing beside Salkhi was Sartaq, a half smile on his face. And on the other side of Salkhi… Kadara patiently waited, the two ruks a proud pair indeed. Her father’s eyes widened, as if recognizing the ruk before the prince. But then her father bowed. Deeply. Nesryn had told her family—in moderate detail—what had befallen her amongst the rukhin. Her sister and aunt had glared at her when the various children began to declare that they, too, would be ruk riders. And then took off through the house, shrieking and flapping their arms, leaping off furniture with wild abandon.

She expected Sartaq to wait to be approached, but the prince spotted her father and strode forward. Then reached out and clasped his hand. “I heard Captain Faliq’s family had at last arrived safely,” Sartaq said by way of greeting. “I thought I’d come to welcome you myself.” (Ana's Note: meeting his father-in-law 😏😌)

Something swelled in her chest to the point of pain as Sartaq inclined his head to her father. Sayed Faliq looked like he might very well keel over dead, either from the gesture of respect or Kadara’s mere presence behind them. Indeed, several small heads now popped behind his legs, scanning the prince, then the ruks, and then—

“KADARA!”

Her aunt and uncle’s youngest child—no more than four—screamed the ruk’s name loud enough that anyone in the city who didn’t know the bird was on this street was now well aware. Sartaq laughed as the children shoved past Nesryn’s father, racing for the golden bird. Her sister was on their heels, warning springing from her lips— Until Kadara lowered herself to the ground, Salkhi following suit. The children halted, reverence stealing over them as they reached out tentative hands toward the two ruks and stroked them gently. Nesryn’s sister sighed with relief. Then realized who stood before Nesryn and their father. Delara went red. She patted her dress, as if it would somehow cover the fresh food stains courtesy of her youngest. Then she slowly backed into the house, bowing as she went.

Sartaq laughed as she vanished—but not before Delara gave Nesryn a sharp look that said, Oh, you are so smitten it’s not even a laughing matter.

Nesryn gave her sister a vulgar gesture behind her back that their father chose not to see. Her father was saying to Sartaq, “I apologize if my grandchildren, nieces, and nephews take some liberties with your ruk, Prince.” But Sartaq smiled broadly—a brighter grin than any she’d seen him give before. “Kadara pretends to be a noble mount, but she’s more of a mother hen than anything.” Kadara puffed her feathers, earning squeals of delight from the children. Nesryn’s father squeezed her shoulder before he said to the prince, “I think I’ll go keep them from trying to fly off on her.”

And then they were alone. In the street. Outside her uncle’s house. All of Antica now gawking at them. Sartaq did not seem to notice. Certainly not as he said, “Walk with me?” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 66)

The end is only the beginning. One of my favorite scenes, I literally screamed with happiness.

They headed toward the quiet, clean alley behind her uncle’s house, walking in silence for a few steps. Until Sartaq said, “I spoke to my father.” And she wondered, then, if this meeting was not to be a good one. If the army they had brought was to be ordered back to its aeries. Or if the prince, the life she saw for herself in those beautiful mountains… if perhaps the reality of that, too, had found them. For he was a prince. And for all that she loved her family, for all that they made her so proud, there was not one noble drop of blood in their lineage. Her father shaking Sartaq’s hand was the closest any Faliq had ever come to royalty. Nesryn managed to say, “Oh?”

“We… discussed things.” Her chest sank at the careful words. “I see.”

Sartaq stopped, the sandy alley humming with the buzzing bees in the jasmine that climbed the walls of the bordering courtyards. The one behind them: the back, private courtyard belonging to her family. She wished she could slither over the wall and hide within. Rather than hear this. But Nesryn made herself meet the prince’s eyes. Saw him scanning her face.

“I told him,” Sartaq said at last, “that I planned to lead the rukhin against Erawan, with or without his consent.” Worse. This was getting worse and worse. She wished his face weren’t so damn unreadable. Sartaq took a breath. “He asked me why.”

“I hope you told him that the fate of the world might depend upon it.”

Sartaq chuckled. “I did. But I also told him that the woman I love now plans to head into war. And I intend to follow her.” (Ana's Note: SARTAQ, YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH YOU TOUCH MY HEART, WHAT A MAN)

She didn’t let the words sink in. Didn’t let herself believe any of it, until he’d finished. “He told me that you are common-born. That a would-be Heir of the khagan needs to wed a princess, or a lady, or someone with lands and alliances to offer.” Her throat closed up. She tried to shut out the sound, the words. Didn’t want to hear the rest.

But Sartaq took her hand. “I told him if that was what it took to be chosen as Heir, I didn’t want it. And I walked out.” (Ana's Note: oh my Holy God)

Nesryn sucked in a breath. “Are you insane?” (Ana's Note: Yes, friend, for you)

Sartaq smiled faintly. “I certainly hope not, for the sake of this empire.” He tugged her closer, until their bodies were nearly touching. “Because my father appointed me Heir before I could walk out of the room.” (Ana's Note: I collapsed.)

Nesryn left her body. Could only manage to breathe. And when she tried to bow, Sartaq gripped her shoulders tightly. Stopped her before her head could even lower. “Never from you,” he said quietly. Heir—he’d been made Heir. To all this. This land she loved, this land she still wished to explore so much it ached. Sartaq lifted a hand to cup her cheek, his calluses scraping against her skin. “We fly to war. Much is uncertain ahead. Save for this.” He brushed his mouth against hers. “Save for what I feel for you. No demon army, no dark queen or king, will change that.” Nesryn shook, letting the words sink in. “I—Sartaq, you are Heir—” He pulled back to study her again. “We will go to war, Nesryn Faliq. And when we shatter Erawan and his armies, when the darkness is at last banished from this world … Then you and I will fly back here. Together.” He kissed her again—a bare caress of his mouth. “And so we shall remain for the rest of our days.”

She heard the offer, the promise. The world he laid at her feet. She trembled at it. What he so freely gave. Not the empire and crown, but … the life. His heart.

Nesryn wondered if he knew her heart had been his from that very first ride atop Kadara.

Sartaq smiled as if to say yes, he had. So she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was tentative, and soft, and full of wonder, that kiss. He tasted like the wind, like a mountain spring. He tasted like home. Nesryn clasped his face in her hands as she pulled back. “To war, Sartaq,” she breathed, memorizing every line of his face. “And then we’ll see what comes after.”

Sartaq gave her a knowing, cocky grin. As if he’d fully decided what would come after and nothing she could say would ever convince him otherwise. And from the courtyard just a wall away, her sister shouted, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, “I told you, Father! (😂😂😂😂😂)

This is another giant parenthesis to let you know that Sartaq deserves appreciation, yes.

“My sulde still blows northward. Who knows what I may find on the road ahead? Especially now that Sartaq has the burden of being Heir, and I’m free to do as I please.” The city had been in an uproar about it. Celebrating, debating—it still raged on. What the other royal siblings thought, Yrene did not know, but… there was peace in Kashin’s eyes. And in the eyes of the others, when Yrene had seen them. And part of her indeed wondered if Sartaq had struck some unspoken agreement that went beyond Never Duva. To perhaps even Never Us.

Bonus: An excerpt of Nestaq in Kingdom of Ash.

A soft spot—her ruk had developed a soft spot and an undimming admiration for Sartaq’s mount. Though Nesryn supposed the same could be said about her and the ruk’s rider. Nesryn tore her eyes from the swirling gray clouds and glanced to the rider at her left. His shorn hair had grown out—barely. Just enough to be braided back against the wind. Sensing her attention, the Heir to the khaganate signaled, All is well? Nesryn blushed despite the cold, but signaled back, her numbed fingers clumsy over the symbols. All clear.

A blushing schoolgirl. That’s what she became around the prince, no matter the fact that they’d been sharing a bed these weeks, or what he’d promised for their future.

To rule beside him. As the future empress of the khaganate.

It was absurd, of course. The idea of her dressed like his mother, in those sweeping, beautiful robes and grand headdresses… No, she was better suited to the rukhin leathers, to the weight of steel, not jewels. She’d said as much to Sartaq. Many times. He’d laughed her off. Had said she might walk around the palace naked if she wished. What she wore or didn’t wear wouldn’t bother him in the least. But it was still a ridiculous notion. One the prince seemed to think was the only course for their future. He’d staked his crown on it, had told his father that if being prince meant not being with her, then he’d walk away from the throne. The khagan had offered him the title of Heir instead. - (Kingdom of Ash chapter 6)

And this shouts out Nesryn as Grand Empress!!!!!!!!

Sorry, Nesryn, but I've lived to see you in a dress like this.

It was great to make this post about that amazing couple, it was great to reread some of their scenes, and most of all, it's amazing to be able to bring this Appreciation to Nesryn and Sartaq. These two strong, interesting, brave characters, who have known pain and loss, but have not become victimized or angry at the world. Sartaq and Nesryn made a difference in Throne of Glass, yes. And Tower of Dawn is one of the best books I have ever read in my entire life.

Seeing Nesryn smiling more, even feeling her face hurt from laughing so hard.... That was priceless.

Nestaq is the couple that has respect, admiration, trust and equality as the basis for their relationship. At all times Sartaq treated Nesryn as an equal, always showed the admiration he felt for her, never underestimated her or put her aside, on the contrary, Sartaq took Nesryn ahead of all the clans of the rukhin, and made it clear to his father that she was worth more to him than the crown of one of the largest empires in the world.

Nestaq will always have a special place in my heart.

✧*。Wind-Seeker and her Winged Prince✧*。

✧*。The Commander of the rukhin, the future Khagan and his Neith's Arrow✧*。

Thank you for reading this far, you are welcome to add more, just don't forget to be respectful!!!

[creampuffqueen]

Nesryn x Sartaq baby headcanons

Meet all the hot royal people! There’s a lot of them!

- So you see, with all the other royal people it was different

- They just have to produce one heir. One.

-For Nesryn and Sartaq? at least two

-Preferably way more

-The current Khagan is in good health, though, so they have a bit to wait

-Which is good, because Nesryn is still mildly freaked out about the whole 'might become empress of the mightiest kingdom in the world' thing

-With her whole family living in the Southern Continent now, Nesryn is content

-She and Sartaq spend a lot of time in the mountains with the ruks

-And she actually has a part in Borte and Yeran's wedding. Nesryn and Borte pretty much become bffs.

-However, duty calls, and Sartaq must return

-And though he says she can stay in the mountains, Nesryn decides to return with him

-All of the royal siblings have pretty much accepted Nesryn as their new sister. (Some more than others, cough cough Arghun)

-And so they don't mind letting her sit in on important meetings.

-In fact, her advice is often valued

-Although the current empress is a very quiet woman, she takes a liking to Nesryn quickly. She can be seen sometimes, whispering to her son about what a good choice he made in wife

-Though she is very happy in the Southern Continent, Nesryn does miss her friends a lot

-She writes, but it can take months for mail to reach the mainland, so sometimes she just doesn't even try

-When the first Peace Ball is held, Nesryn is over the moon

-But it just takes so much time to get there and back that she and Sartaq admit they really can't go every year. Instead they settle for every other year

-Duva has had her baby, a little boy named Taran

-After his birth, Nesryn mentions that Sartaq should probably tell his siblings what the two of them have planned

-Which he insists she must do as well, since she helped him think of what to say

-So the future empress and emperor tell the other royal siblings this:

-They will break the tradition of killing the opposing siblings. They will leave them to live their lives, so long as they never pose a threat of any kind

-And it hurts Sartaq's heart, but he must say his conditions

-If either of them find out about scheming or betrayal, all the siblings and their children lose their lives. They will not tolerate anything of the sort

-But, thankfully, even Arghun and Hasar, notorious for their scheming, agree to the terms

-Nesryn and Sartaq get married about a year later

-Hasar, Duva, Renia, Delara, and Borte are all there to help her get dressed, and Nesryn has never felt happier

-At least, until she is officially married to the love of her life

-Chaol and Yrene actually make it just in time, and all of Nesryn's nieces, nephews, and little cousins are running around. They've even adopted one-year-old Taran into their group

-The two retreat to the mountains for a month-long honeymoon, because they can

-And they spend a long time in just pure marriage bliss

-Eventually, they return

-And Nesryn gets to work helping out

-She quickly becomes a favorite of the people. Neith's Arrow, their own future empress

-Thankfully, with the Southern Continent having such a casual culture, nobody minds Nesryn wearing riding leathers or sparring clothes around the palace. So long as she dresses up nicely for formal events, they couldn't care less

-She is able to spend a lot of time with her family, baking sweets in their kitchen

-Their sugared almond puffs can put even the palace cooks to shame

-Everything is good, peaceful, and happy

-When they attend a Peace Ball, Nesryn manages to find herself enamoured with the little Fae babies running around everywhere. Aelin and Rowan make some damn cute kids

-And Nesryn can't really help herself

-On the trip home, she gets a terrible case of seasickness

-But when it doesn't stop, even after being home for weeks, she and Sartaq start to suspect something is up

-And, sure enough, Nesryn is pregnant

-To say they are ecstatic is an understatement

-It isn't long before everyone in the palace knows

-Everyone congratulates them, even Arghun, who looks very slightly pissed off the whole time

-Sartaq is a bit of an overbearing mother hen throughout the whole thing, even though Nesryn promises him she's fine

-She spends a lot of time with her sister, because Delara has had four kids already, you know?

-And also she's craving sweets 24/7

-Nesryn actually goes past her due date, and that sucks because she feels like a whale

-At this point she's like "Sartaq I can't believe you did this to me"

-When she finally goes into labor, it's a blessing

-Duva is there, because despite her vapidness, she has had a baby and knows what Nesryn needs

-Delara doesn't get the message until later, and arrives right before Nesryn starts pushing

-With her sister and sister-in-law coaching her, Nesryn has the strength she needs to give birth

-It's a beautiful baby boy with his father's face

-Sartaq is so in love with his new son and with his amazing, incredible wife

-They name him Kasem, which means 'happiness'

-Kasem grows up with tons of aunties and uncles. He always has someone to watch him, no matter what time of day

-They take him to the mountains when he is six months old, in the middle of summer so he doesn't have to spend the night in the cold

-Kadara and Salkhi love the little babe a lot. They are gentle, even when he tugs on their feathers

-Borte is absolutely in love with her little nephew

-A year after Kasem's birth, Duva and her husband have a baby girl named Haya

-And when Kasem is two, Borte and Nesryn both become pregnant

-Nesryn spends most of her pregnancy in the mountains with Borte, and the two are practically joined at the hip

-Her second pregnancy is much easier, though she still has awful morning sickness in the beginning

-Borte gives birth first, to a baby girl she names Indra

-Nesryn is not far behind, having her second baby barely a week after Borte

-It's a girl as well

-She is named Dara, which means 'pearl of wisdom'

-And sure enough, little Dara is very wise

-She always seems to be very smart and mature for her age

-Around the same time Nesryn and Borte have their babies, Arghun's wife has their first child, a girl named Maleia

-Dara likes her cousins a lot, though she is always closer to Indra than Maleia

-In the coming years, more babies are born

-Borte and Yeran have another little girl named Varsha, and Arghun becomes a father to another daughter, who he names Vanida

-For Nesryn and Sartaq, they are content with their little family, for the time being

-Dara loves books a lot, and when she goes to her first Peace Ball, she becomes best friends with Aris, Dorian and Manon's daughter

-She is also the darling of the public. She loves people and attention at all times

-Kasem is a very confident little boy, often boasting that he can beat anybody at anything

-Needless to say, he gets a few lessons in losing graciously

-Kasem and Dara are best friends as well, and they love to be around their (much) older cousins and baking with their mother's side of the family

-When Kasem is eight, Nesryn finds out she is pregnant again

-Since it's been a while since her last pregnancy, this one is fairly difficult. She stays in the palace a lot and is tired all the time

-But she thankfully delivers a health baby girl she names Dhyana, which means 'meditation'

-She's only just getting used to having a new baby when...

-Nesryn finds out she's expecting again

-She isn't sure how to feel. She's happy for another baby, but she doesn't know if she's prepared to have two little ones at the same time

-But, she knows she's going to have a lot of help

-I would also like to add... Sartaq is an amazing father

-He is so very patient, with his kids and with others

-No matter what, he always makes time for them

-He grew up feeling distant from his parents, and he doesn't want that for his children

-And Nesryn, she's a great mom

-She's definitely the fun parent

-The kids love to watch her because everything she does is just so mesmerizing

-And she's a great singer

-When she's on the mainland, people often ask her and Rowan for duets because they have amazing singing voices and they sound pretty good together actually

-But she always sings her kids to sleep

-And every single time Sartaq falls in love with her all over again

-No matter what kind of day they've had, whether they argued or they just cuddled all day, Sartaq can always count on hearing her sing to their kids

-The next baby they have is a little boy

-His name is Ronin, which means 'warrior'

-Ronin is the shyest of Nesryn and Sartaq's children

-He gets along well with Dara, because he likes to read and create

-The same year he is born, Kashin and his new wife have a baby boy named Haider

-Sometimes Nesryn will just find him wandering around the palace halls, lost in his own little world

-Two years after Ronin's birth, Hasar and Renia announce that they are going to have a baby

-The man who did it is kept a closely guarded secret, but nobody really cares about him

-Hasar and Renia have a baby boy named Rangsey

-And Nesryn... wants another baby

-Which she never thought she'd say, seeing as she has four kids already

-But Sartaq agrees wholeheartedly, and Nesryn finds herself pregnant again

-This pregnancy... is tough

-It's the hardest one she's ever gone through

-She's terribly exhausted all the time, sometimes even so tired she can't tuck her kids in. Sartaq is not a good replacement singer

-Thankfully, though, the terrible pregnancy leads to an easy birth, with a beautiful, healthy baby girl at the end

-This baby is the last one Nesryn will ever have. She is sure her family is complete

-The baby is named Akira, which means 'intelligent and bright'

-Akira is a little warrior. She adores watching the soldiers train

-When she is two, her family travels out to the plains of the horse-people to visit Kashin's new son, Kiran

-After taking one ride on a horse, Akira never wants to leave

-Of course, she must, but there are a lot of tears that day

-All the kids grow up in a palace full of aunties, uncles, and cousins everywhere

-They are adored by the people, and by their parents

-And every time she looks at them, Nesryn can hardly believe how far she's come

-A lowly guard patrolling Adarlan's slums, and suddenly she's in line to be the empress of the strongest empire in the world, with an incredible husband she loves with her whole heart and five amazing children

-Nesryn has found her place

-In the story Worlds of Fire and Darkness, Kasem is 18, Dara is 16, Dhyana is 9, Ronin is 8, and Akira is 5. There are so many other kids but know they range from 22 to 3.

[saintnesryn]

Top 5 Friendships you wish that happened in TOG? (I once had a dream where Nesryn and Sorscha were BFFs)

oooooh oh gosh!!??! i want all the girlz to be friends :((

ok so yes, nesryn and sorscha is a god tier pairing that we missed out on. not sure if i’ve told you but i have a headcanon that nehemia sorscha and nesryn were all actually really good friends in throne of glass. since they’re all rebels, i feel like they must have crossed paths at some point!!!! i can totally imagine nehemia inviting them to her palace suite for sleepovers and the three of them hanging out at nesryn’s bakery and gossiping about the white ppl over scones and just being super sweet and lovely together 🖤

kaltain + malide: I lowkey ship elide x kaltain and manon x kaltain and manon x elide x kaltain. their dynamic in qos, with manon and kaltain coming to a mutual understanding and teaming up to save elide....wow. iconiquè. i would have loved to see their relationship expand beyond qos 🖤

sorscha and yrene! this would’ve been such a sweet pairing. both of them have lost family to the king and yet both remained loving and kind and turned to healing. i think they would have a lot to learn from each other 🥺

i was telling @tinywolfofeyllwe about this but we really missed out on nesryn and manon content. i feel like the two of them would have a lot of mutual understanding and respect for each other. like manon would completely understand why nessie’s learned to be cold and quiet and nessie would see through manon’s mean girl exterior immediately. i can just imagine them taking abraxos and salkhi out for long flights and keeping each other company but not necessarily needing to talk. i also think it would be hilarious if borte were to beg nessie to let her come along one day. lol like imagine borte pestering manon about what it’s like to have claws and why her hair is white and what blood tastes like etc. manon would just like death glare nessie (who finds this extremely amusing) the whole trip and would wonder why mortals are so weird.

ANSEL AND MANON. i want to see them working together to rebuild their kingdoms and reforge the witch/human alliances :(

[fanwarriorfictions]

Help Me, Help You - Part Ten

Fenrys x f!Reader

Summary- Setting off to the Tavan mountains. Fenrys isn’t a fan of flying and Y/n confides in a friend.

Warnings- none! For once.

Series Masterlist

Part Ten

   “How did he make it to the Tavans so fast?” 

   Kashin’s voice fills the room as Fenrys stalks in to the high tower where the two massive Ruks sat impatiently, his and Y/n’s bags hoisted over his shoulders. Despite what he knew, there was a simmering rage beneath his skin at the sight of the prince that he forced down. Just because he and Y/n hadn’t done anything doesn’t mean the prince hadn’t wanted to, Fenrys was more than sure Kashin had wanted to.

   “Vaughan is a tricky bastard,” Fenrys explains so Sartaq was spared his brother’s incessant questions, “He did the same disappearing act on me in Fenharrow a few months back, there were sightings of him leading to Ardalan, I’d followed the trail only for it to dead end, low and behold, he was already on a ship to Wendlyn.”

   Kashin eyes him, the missing scar on his cheek, but the prince kept his mouth shut about that at least, no doubt he’d already been told by one of the many servants in his employ, “So he planted sightings of himself?”

   “Don’t ask me how he does it,” Fenrys grumbles, handing over the two packs to Sartaq to strap onto the ruks, “Ask the male himself when I drag his slippery ass back here in a few weeks.”

   He doesn’t tell the prince that he isn’t sure Vaughan will even come back with them, he hopes to hell that he does, not only because Fenrys wants the male to come to Terrasen, but because he knows that it will destroy Y/n if he says no. Fenrys refuses to let that happen, he won’t allow it, even if he has to drag the male kicking and screaming behind the ruks. 

   Nesryn and Y/n walk through the door and Fenrys has to hold back a growl as Kashin’s eyes dart down Y/n’s leather clad body. It’s a similar suit to the one she’d worn when they first met, hugging every curved line of her body, he’d cursed the heat of Antica for the disappearance of that outfit. The type of female to make men crawl for her, he remembers thinking when he saw her that first time, in another life he’d thought then, he was starting to think that might end up being this life. 

   “Vaughan never lost hide and seek,” Y/n says, smiling at the memory, “that could be because he’s just really good at it, or the fact that I was a child and he was a centuries old warrior.”

   Fenrys grins at the image of a child sized Y/n ordering her brother to play hide and seek with her. He can see her little fists on her hips, that look in her cat eyes that promised hell if Vaughan didn’t comply.

   “I think it may just be the first one,” Sartaq laughs, “Your brother proves to be a master.”

   “You gave him too much practice,” Kashin jokes, his gaze still roaming over her.

   Y/n walks further into the room, coming to stand directly beside Fenrys, which inflates his fae sized ego a little bit, perhaps a lot when the prince’s eyes narrow at him. 

   “Have you ever flown before?” Y/n asks Fenrys, watching Sartaq and Nesryn prepare their rides.

   Fenrys nods once, “it wasn’t exactly pleasant. I like the ground.”

   “Most people do,” Sartaq says, “But unless you wish to leave Vaughan in the clutches of my hearth sister for much longer, I suggest we go my way.”

   Fenrys winces at the thought, Borte gave Hasan a run for her money when it came to the sheer will. If there was an answer she wanted out of the male, she would get it, and Fenrys could only imagine the slew of questions she had for him. 

   “Let’s put poor Vaughan out of his misery,” Fenrys nods, motioning Y/n towards Nesryn and her Ruk, Salkhi, “After you.”

   Y/n would ride with Nesryn, and Fenrys would be stuck with Sartaq and his slew of questions. He’d decided that he wouldn’t subject Y/n to the busybody prince right after Nesryn had told Fenrys they would fly out as soon as possible, he also decided that he didn’t want to watch her hold onto the prince, even if said prince was married and wouldn’t dream of anyone else, especially considering his wife’s skill with a bow. The fae territorial instinct in him was a pain in the ass, especially now after everything that had happened, the kiss, the sight of her in his shirt, the secrets he’d shared, the words she’d given him.

   You’ll be worthy of it. Gods he wanted to be.

   “Fly safe,” Kashin says as they each mount, his eyes locked on Y/n, “I’ll see you when you get back?”

   She nods, and Fenrys goes still, watching her give the prince a slight smile that only lingers for a second, a second to long in his eyes. Sartaq laughs beneath his breath as he nudges Kadara towards their exit, towards the vast expanse of Antica far below them.

   “Shut up,” Fenrys warns.

   “I didn’t say anything,” Sartaq says.

   They are soaring through the sky before Fenrys can growl at the prince.

   Y/n didn’t mind the flying, that probably had more to do with Nesryn and Salkhi, who flew level and warned her before they changed directions. Unlike Sartaq and Kadara who looked like they were trying to give Fenrys a heart attack. She could hear the loud shouts and cursing even over the wind howling in her ears. 

   She laughs as Kadara nearly rolls completely over to maneuver closer to the other Ruk who tuts at the antics of the prince and his mount.

   “If you drop me we will be having chicken for dinner,” Fenrys growls, the threat is empty, “I don’t care that your rider is the crown prince, your feathers will make a nice blanket.”

   In response, Kadara dives sharply, causing a loud snarl to rip from Fenrys. Y/n laughs, throwing her head back and Nesryn in front of her chuckles, shaking her head at her husband.

   “I don’t know if he’ll get back on after we camp tonight,” Y/n says, leaning over to watch Kadara level out far below them, her fae sight gifts her the image of Fenrys smacking the back of Sartaq’s laughing head.

   “He will,” Nesryn says, throwing a smile over her shoulder, “He needs to let out some steam, my husband decided to practice some flight maneuvers he picked up from Manon to do just that.”

   Y/n felt her smile falter, “Thank you, I don’t know how much he told you-“

   “Nothing,” she says, “Neither of them, your secrets are your own, just as much as his are. If you want me to know them, then you’ll have to tell me, yourself.”

   Y/n felt incredibly grateful for the woman, for giving her that choice, and surprisingly, she felt herself wanting to tell Nesryn. She’d never had a friend, not really, until Fenrys had waltzed into her life, or she into his. The village was sparse, mostly comprised of Demi fae who had no use for Doranelle or Mistward, but were unwelcome in human company. And even then, she refused to make a connection with any of them longer than necessary, in fear that one day one would find themselves at the mercy of Maeve, and her secrets would be exposed. 

   Some part of her longed for connection, she had that on some level with Fenrys, but that was different, that was strange and forming into something she couldn’t name, she wanted a friend, and Nesryn was there, reaching out a hand. Y/n reached back.

   “The height doesn’t scare me as much as water does,” she begins, and she tells her everything.

   They make camp when there is barely any sunlight left in the sky, and Fenrys forces himself to keep his distance from Y/n and Nesryn. He’d heard bits of their conversation, unable to stop himself when he heard her speaking of her life in her village, like a moth to a flame, drifting wherever she went. He’d only stopped listening when Y/n had started talking about her first cycle, how she’d felt like she was dying and no one was there to help her through it.

   So he and Sartaq worked to set up camp, leaving them by the tents to collect firewood and dinner. 

   “Do you want to talk about it?” Sartaq says as they trudge through the dark woods.

   “About what?” Fenrys huffs, still royal pissed at the prince for the flight lessons.

   “You know what,” said prince says softly, enough that Fenrys knows exactly what he means.

   He doesn’t want to talk about it, the scar and how it came to disappear, but he could still feel the aching relief he’d felt earlier when he’d told Y/n why the scar had stayed, perhaps he needed to talk about it, maybe that was how he started to heal. Even if it sounds like some bullshit Yrene would repeat from her lessons at the Torre.

   “It’s alright,” Fenrys says, wincing at the obvious lie, “It’s not but I know it will be in time, I have to believe that.”

   “It will be,” Sartaq nods, his eyes finding his wife and Y/n across the small clearing as they approach, “You’re not alone in this, fate has the ability to bring you exactly what and who you need when you need it.”

   Fenrys doesn’t mock his friend for the philosophical bullshit, mostly because he was starting to believe it. Even with the gods long gone, there was still a force in this world that moved them like pieces on a chess board. Perhaps the Wyrd had plans for him yet. Maybe those plans had to do with the keen eyed female sitting beside the fire.

   “What are you ladies talking about?” Sartaq asks as they near the two, dropping his arm full of wood beside them.

   There’s a proud look in Y/n’s eyes as she nods towards the fire. She started it, he realizes, and pride fills his chest as he smiles back at her. He settles into the spot beside her, content to let Sartaq deal with the fire wood after everything the prince put him through. Fenrys can feel her warmth beside him, and it soothes some of his fried nerves. 

   “Y/n here is confident she could teach me to ice skate,” Nesryn laughs, “I fear I’ve never mixed well with ice.”

   “You would be brilliant, my love,” Sartaq laughs, giving a small shake of his head to Fenrys.

   Y/n laughs when Nesryn narrows her gaze at her husband, and Fenrys feels his grin grow at the sound. He leans back on his hands, looking her over, still appreciating those flight leathers Nesryn had dug out for her. 

   “You’ll have to teach me someday,” he tells her, “There’s a huge lake not far from Orynth, freezes near solid all winter long.”

   It felt like a deeper offer, one he’d hoped to make to her and her brother, to come to Terrasen with him, come home with him. Fenrys watches her warily, suddenly nervous that he’d made the offer to soon, that she would say no and he would have to leave her in that little cottage in the middle of nowhere, or worse she’d stay in Antica and explore the world without him, with someone else.

   She eyes him, those eyes picking him apart like they had from the start, seeing past all the bullshit, “I will.’

   It was more than just ice skating that she was agreeing to, and when she smiles at him, he knows that she knows that, and she isn’t scared of that agreement, not in the slightest.

   “I’ll be your best pupil yet, kitten,” he grins, throwing that charm into his smirking lips.

   There’s a gleam of mischief in her eyes as she leans closer to him, he doesn’t miss the glance she takes towards his mouth, if his friends weren’t beside them, talking quietly between themselves, Fenrys may have leaned even closer, might have taken her onto his lap again to continue what had only just begun earlier. It didn’t scare him like it should, like it had for the past several months, like it had the past weeks with her, he wanted it, wanted her.

   “I’m sure you’ll be as graceful as a newborn pup,” she says with that snark she seemed to reserve just for him.

   Fenrys tilts his head back and laughs.

Tag list -

@emma-andrea1 @mgchaser @anxious-study @lees-chaotic-brain @girl-math-aint-mathing @mali22 @nikt-wazny-y @theworthlessqueen @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lethargicluv @hannzoaks @batboygirlie @foxysouls @kiarathace @jesskidding3 @raginghellfire 

[ladybookstan]

*Clears throat*

WHY DOESN'T THE FANDOM TALK ABOUT THESE FRIENDSHIPS???!!

I think it's so beautiful that Abraxos and Salkhi are two Warrior Hearts and have been through so much already. And then Manon and Nesryn arrive and simply choose those two. And Abraxos and Salkhi choose them too.

And like, JUST LOOK AT THESE TWO POWERFUL WOMEN AND THAT WYVERN AND THAT RUK.

Could you see the concentrated power?

And I'll make a note here: I'm still at the beginning of KoA, and I know Abraxos don't die, amen, but if Salkhi dies, I'm going to do something crazy.

[dealfea]

I love Nesryn ! And Sartaq! And Nestaq! This brought up so many feelings 😍😭😍

Nestaq Appreciation✨

Synopsis: A post entirely dedicated to Sartaq and Nesryn, presenting the facts that show that these characters, this couple, deserve more recognition and love.

Those who "know me" know that I am the Captain of the Character Defense Squad. So far I have only made one other post like this, one in Appreciation to Viviane, if you want to see it, I'll leave it here.

And now I am focusing on Tog's most overlooked couple: Nestaq.

⚠️ Throne of Glass Series Spoiler Alert!!!

The basis of this post will be mainly Tower of Dawn, and a bit of Queen of Shadows, I haven't finished KoA yet (I'm on chapter 21) and Lord knows I won't finish that book any time soon. BUuUt, I won't try anymore. The TOG fandom literally sleeps when it comes to this couple and I'm like: 🤡HELLOOOOO🤡

This post is huge and I apologize in advance for any spelling mistakes or anything like that.

Let's start with Nesryn✨

Balruhn, where Nesryn’s own people had originally hailed, before curiosity and ambition drove her great-grandfather to drag his family over mountains and grasslands and deserts to the god-city in the arid north.

The Faliqs had long been tradesmen, and not of anything particularly fine. Just simple, good cloth and household spices. Her uncle still traded such things and, through various lucrative investments, had become a moderately wealthy man, his family now dwelling in a beautiful home within this very city. A definitive step up from a baker—the path her father had chosen upon leaving these shores. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 2)

A daughter of Adarlan (on her mother's side, Cybele) and a daughter of the Southern Continent (on her father's side, Sayed Faliq).

We meet her in Queen of Shadows, the fifth book in the series.

“I heard what happened this winter. That you went to the warehouse and killed so many of us. You slaughtered rebels - my friends.” That cool, calm mask didn’t so much as flinch. “And yet I’m now supposed to believe you were on our side all along. Forgive me if I’m not forthright with you.” — Nesryn Faliq to Aelin Galathinyus (Queen of Shadows chapter 6)

Nesryn Faliq is shown to be a quiet woman who prefers silence, intelligent and a guard in the city of Riftfort, she was one of the rebels who were working with Ren Allsbrook. We also find out that Chaol Westfall and she were once lovers and at that point retained something of a "friendship".

He’d needed it—the distraction and release—after Lithaen had left him for the charms of Roland Havilliard. Nesryn had just been bored, apparently. She’d never sought him out, never asked when she would see him again, so their encounters had always been initiated by him. A few months later, he hadn’t felt particularly bad when he’d gone to Endovier and stopped seeing her. He’d never told Dorian —or Aelin. And when he’d run into Nesryn three weeks ago at one of the rebel gatherings, she hadn’t seemed to be holding a grudge.

“You look like a man who got punched in the balls,” she said at last.

He cut a glare in her direction. And because he did indeed feel that way, because maybe he was again feeling a bit shattered and reckless, he told her what had happened. Who it had happened with. He trusted her, though. In the three weeks they’d been fighting and plotting and surviving together, he’d had no choice but to trust her. Ren had trusted her. — (Queen of Shadows chapter 7)

Regarding Nesryn and Chaol, from what I understand, the two were fine with what they had, but there came a point where Nesryn had feelings for Chaol that he didn't have for her. I'm not saying that Nesryn was crazy in love with him, but she was starting to fall in love, however, the feelings that Chaol had for her were trust, admiration, friendship and obviously, attraction. Just that. (Also, let's face it, we are talking about Nesryn Faliq, the woman is perfect). And he might even love her, but the kind of love that is more on the side of friendship.

Nesryn knew. She knew it hadn’t been mere interest that had prompted Chaol to ask her to talk to him last night, but guilt. She was fine with it, she told herself. She had been a replacement for not one, but two of the women in his life. A third one… She was fine with it... - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

And still in Queen of Shadows, Nesryn Faliq won my heart when she saved Lysandra's life and Dorian's life. Being the absurdly amazing Archer that she is.

The blade dipped as she (Aelin) decided, and— Impact slammed into her father ’s sword, knocking her off balance as Aedion shouted. The arrow ricocheted into the garden, hissing against the gravel as it landed. Nesryn was already approaching, another arrow drawn, pointed at Aedion.

“Strike the prince, and I’ll shoot the general.” - (Queen of Shadows chapter 19)

........................

Lysandra leaped. The closest guard fired a clean, spiraling shot right for her chest. She knew, with that leopard’s senses, that it would hit home. Yet Lysandra did not slow. She did not stop. For Evangeline. For her future. For her freedom. For the friends who had come for her. The bolt neared her heart. And was knocked from the air by an arrow.

Lysandra landed on the guard’s face and shredded it with her claws. There was only one sharpshooter with that sort of aim. Lysandra loosed a roar, and became a storm of death upon the guards nearest her while arrows rained on the rest. When Lysandra dared look, it was in time to see Nesryn Faliq draw another arrow atop the neighboring rooftop, flanked by her rebels, and fire it clean through the eye of the final guard between Lysandra and the castle.

“Go!” Nesryn shouted over the panicking crowd. - (Queen of Shadows chapter 75)

One thing that makes me admire Nesryn so much, besides the fact that she is a strong woman, is that even when she suffered a huge loss when she was 13, experienced prejudice throughout her childhood for her origins, suffered prejudice at work for being a woman, she didn't give up. She didn't stop fighting. Never. And if that is not an admirable story, I don't know what is.

“I wouldn’t?” A cold question. “You think that I don’t understand what’s at stake? I don’t care about your prince—not the way you do. I care about what he represents for the future of this kingdom, and for the future of people like my family. I won’t allow another immigrant purge to happen. I don’t ever want my sister ’s children coming home with broken noses again because of their foreign blood. You told me Dorian would fix the world, make it better. But if he’s gone, if we made the mistake today in keeping him alive, then I will find another way to attain that future. And another one after that, if I have to. I will keep getting back up, no matter how many times those butchers shove me down.”

He’d never heard so many words from her at once, had never… never even known she had a sister. Or that she was an aunt. Nesryn said, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stay the course, but also plot another one. Adapt.”

His mouth had gone dry. “Were you ever hurt? For your heritage?” Nesryn glanced toward the roaring hearth, her face like ice. “I became a city guard because not a single one of them came to my aid the day the other schoolchildren surrounded me with stones in their hands. Not one, even though they could hear my screaming.” She met his stare again. “Dorian Havilliard offers a better future, but the responsibility also lies with us. With how common people choose to act.” True—so true. - (Queen of Shadows chapter 22)

.................

“Adarlan is not as … open as the khaganate when it comes to embracing the role of women in the ranks of its guards or armies,” she admitted. “While I might be skilled, men usually were promoted. So I was left to rot on patrol duty at the walls or busy streets. Handling the underworld or nobility was left for more important guards. And ones whose families hailed from Adarlan.” Her sister had raged anytime it happened, but Nesryn had known that if she’d exploded to her superiors, if she’d challenged them … They were the sort of men who would tell her to be grateful to be admitted at all, then demand she turn in her sword and uniform. So she’d figured it was better to remain, to be passed over, not for mere pay, but for the fact that there were so few other guards like her, helping those who needed it most. It was for them she stayed on, kept her head down while lesser men were appointed. “Ah.” Another beat of quiet from the prince. “I’ve heard they were not so welcoming toward people from other lands.”

“To say the least.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

The huge loss that Nesryn has suffered:

Nesryn said quietly, “My mother died when I was thirteen.” She gazed up at the near-glowing Torre. “The old king … you know what he did to those with magic. To healers gifted with it. So there was no one who could save my mother from the wasting sickness that crept up on her. The healer we managed to find admitted to us that it was likely from a growth inside my mother’s breast. That she might have been able to cure her before magic vanished. Before it was forbidden.”

She had never told anyone outside of her family this story. Wasn’t sure why she was really telling him now, but she went on, “My father wanted to get her on a boat to sail here. Was desperate to. But war had broken out up and down our lands. Ships were conscripted into Adarlan’s service, and she was too sick to risk a land journey all the way down to Eyllwe to try to cross there. My father combed through every map, every trade route. By the time he found a merchant who would sail with them—just the two of them—to Antica … My mother was so sick she could not be moved. She would not have made it here, even if they’d gotten on the boat.” Sartaq watched her, face unreadable, while she spoke.

Nesryn slid her hands into her pockets. “So she stayed. And we were all there when she … when it was over.” That old grief wrapped around her, burning her eyes. “It took me a few years to feel right again,” she said after a moment. “Two years before I started noticing things like the sun on my face, or the taste of food —started enjoying them again. My father … he held us together. My sister and I. If he mourned, he did not let us see it. He filled our house with as much joy as he could.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 13)

...............

Yew, ash … She plucked up one of the yew bows, testing its weight, its flexibility and resistance. A solid, deadly weapon. Yet familiar. As familiar as an old friend. She had not picked up a bow until her mother’s death, and during those initial years of grief and numbness, the physical training, the concentration and strength required, had been a sanctuary, and a reprieve, and forge. She wondered if any of her old tutors had survived the attack on Rifthold. If any of their arrows had brought down wyverns. Or slowed them enough to save lives. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 30)

In Tower of Dawn we are shown what an interesting character Nesryn is, and like every SJM character, she has also experienced trauma and grief.

An excerpt that sums up Nesryn's personality for us:

Last night, talking with him (with Sartaq) at the party, even talking with him in the alley outside the Torre a few nights before that … She had not felt quiet or aloof or strange. She had not felt cold or distant. He’d done her an honor in giving her such attention, and in escorting her and Chaol back to their rooms. She did not mind company—quiet as she could be, she enjoyed being around others. But sometimes… - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

Something that fascinates me about Nesryn is her development in the series. In Queen of Shadows (and in the beginning of Tower of Dawn) it is as if she is in a cocoon. Closed off to the world and preventing anyone from seeing the beauty within. Because this is one of the best descriptions for Nesryn Faliq. Hard on the outside and sensitive on the inside.

Wind-seeker, her mother had once called her. Unable to keep still, always wandering where the wind calls you. Where shall it beckon you to journey one day, my rose? - (Tower of Dawn chapter 25)

The Modern Nesryn Faliq

Now, let's talk about her prince: Sartaq

We met him in Tower of Dawn, Sartaq is Khagan's second eldest son and the Commander of his father's ruk riders. The Rukhin.

The northern aerial cavalry of his people had long dwelled in the towering Tavan Mountains with their ruks: enormous birds, eagle-like in shape, large enough to carry off cattle and horses. Without the sheer bulk and destructive weight of the Ironteeth witches’ wyverns, but swift and nimble and clever as foxes. The perfect mounts for the legendary archers who flew them into battle.

Sartaq’s face was solemn, his broad shoulders thrown back. A man perhaps as ill at ease in his fine clothes as Chaol. She wondered if his ruk, Kadara, was perched on one of the palace’s thirty-six minarets, eyeing the cowering servants and guards, waiting impatiently for her master’s return. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 2)

Several excerpts about Sartaq and his personality

She yielded a blink. His brown skin was darker than the others’—perhaps from all that time in the skies and sunlight—his eyes a solid ebony. Depthless and unreadable. His black hair remained unbound save for a small braid that curved over the arch of his ear. The rest of his hair fell to just past his muscled chest, and swayed slightly as he gave what Nesryn could have sworn was a mocking incline of his head. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 2)

...................

“I’ve heard the stories.”

“Even in Adarlan?” He lifted a brow. A warrior and a charmer. A dangerous combination, though she could not recall any mention of a spouse. Indeed, no ring marked his finger.

“Even in Adarlan,” Nesryn said, though she did not mention that the average person on the street might not know such tales. But in her house hold… Oh, yes. The Winged Prince, they called him.

.................

“I was twelve when my father brought us all to the mountain aerie. And when I snuck away and climbed onto the captain’s own ruk, soaring into the skies and requiring them to chase me down … My father told me that if I had splattered on the rocks, I would have deserved to die for my stupidity. As punishment, he ordered me to live amongst the rukhin until I could prove I wasn’t a complete fool—a lifetime, he suggested.”

.................

“Thankfully, I did not die of stupidity, and instead came to love the riding, their lifestyle. They gave me hell because I was a prince, but I proved my mettle soon enough. Kadara hatched when I was fifteen, and I raised her myself. I have had no other mount since.” Pride and affection brightened those onyx eyes. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 6)

..................

“Only Fae blades could remain this sharp after a thousand years,” said Sartaq, setting down the knife he’d been inspecting. “Likely forged by the Fae smiths in Asterion, to the east of Doranelle—perhaps even before the first of the demon wars.”

A prince who had studied not only his own empire’s history, but that of many others. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 33)

....................

Nesryn smiled. Charmer. Beneath that unfailingly sure exterior, Sartaq was certainly a shameless flirt. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

................

Borte had insisted that if she, as Houlun’s heir, was to stay, then Sartaq, as the khagan’s potential successor, should remain as well.

To that, Sartaq had merely stalked off into the interior hallways of Altun, saying that if being his father’s successor meant sitting idly by while others fought for him, then his siblings could have the damn crown. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 41)

In order to understand Sartaq further, it is important to know what situation he was in, more precisely, how the Khaganate works. Is something complicated, because in brief, a Khagan has to kill his siblings and their descendants if they might pose any danger or resistance to the Khagan rule. Example: If a Khagan has three siblings, none of whom have had children, all of whom swear loyalty and submission to him, the Khagan may decide to keep them alive, but the three siblings and their companions will be sterilized. Thus making it impossible for anyone to stand up against Khagan.

Unlike Adarlan or Terrasen, inheritance of the empire was decided by the khagan—not by birth order or gender. Having as many children as possible to provide him or her with a wide pool to choose from made that choice only somewhat easier. And rivalry amongst the royal children… It was practically a blood sport. All designed to prove to their parent who was the strongest, the wisest, the most suited to rule.

The khagan was required by law to have a sealed document locked away in an unmarked, hidden trove—a document that listed his or her Heir, should death sweep upon them before it could be formally announced. It could be altered at any time, but it was designed to avoid the one thing the khaganate had lived in fear of since that first khagan had patched together the kingdoms and territories of this continent: collapse. Not from outside forces, but from war within. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 1)

And Sartaq's opinion about it:

Sartaq shrugged. “Kadara is my family. The rukhin, they are my family. My bloodline, though… It’s hard to love one another, when we will one day contend with each other. Love cannot exist without trust.” He smiled at his ruk. “I trust Kadara with my life. I would die for her, and she for me. Can I say the same of my siblings? My own parents?”

“It’s a shame,” Nesryn admitted. “At least I have her,” he said of the ruk. “And my riders. Pity my siblings, who have none of those blessings.”

He was a good man. The prince… he was a good man. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

In fact, Borte and Houlun are more Sartaq's sister and mother than his blood family. Their relationship is quite beautiful. (Borte and Houlun are Sartaq's hearth-sister and hearth-mother).

The Modern Sartaq

Now, finally, let's talk about the couple!!!!

One of the things that makes me love Nestaq so much is that Sartaq is Nesryn's first and biggest fan. He encourages, supports, and admires his woman without reservation.

Nestaq is made up of a wonderful, independent woman, and a perfect man who is not intimidated by his woman's power and doesn't need to do anything over-the-top to make it clear that he is totally a fan of hers.

And I love the fact that from the beginning it was written in the stars, sea and earth that Nesryn and Sartaq had to be together.

Nestaq Moments:

First flight together in Kadara and, as a bonus, we can see that it was already decided: Nesryn was the perfect woman for Sartaq; she loves the Southern Continent and pay attention to how she describes this flight with the prince. (She will make an amazing Grand Empress, get this).

Nesryn had watched the sunrise from the skies. She’d found Prince Sartaq waiting in his aerie in the hour before dawn. The minaret was open to the elements at its uppermost level, and behind the leather-clad prince … Nesryn had braced a hand on the archway to the stairwell, still breathless from the climb.

Kadara was beautiful. Each of the ruk’s golden feathers shone like burnished metal, the white of her breast bright as fresh snow. And her gold eyes had sized Nesryn up immediately. Before Sartaq even turned from where he’d been buckling on the saddle across her broad back. “Captain Faliq,” the prince had said by way of greeting. “You’re up early.” Casual words for any listening ears. “The storm last night kept me from sleep. I hope I am not disturbing you.”

“On the contrary.” In the dim light, his mouth quirked in a smile. “I was about to go for a ride—to let this fat hog hunt for her breakfast for once.” Kadara puffed her feathers in indignation, clicking her enormous beak—fully capable of taking a man’s head off in one snip. No wonder Princess Hasar remained wary of the bird. Sartaq chuckled, patting her feathers. “Care to join?”

.................

“I am not particularly skilled with heights, but it would be my honor, Prince.”

..................

Sartaq had buckled and harnessed them both into the saddle, triple-checking the leather straps. Then he clicked his tongue once, and— Nesryn knew it wasn’t polite to squeeze a prince’s arms so hard the bone was likely to break. But she did so anyway as Kadara spread her shining golden wings and leaped out. Leaped down. Her stomach shot straight up her throat. Her eyes watered and blurred. Wind tore at her, trying to rip her from that saddle, and she clenched with her thighs so tightly they ached, while she gripped Sartaq’s arms, holding the reins, so hard he chuckled in her ear. But the pale buildings of Antica loomed up, near-blue in the early dawn, rushing to meet them as Kadara dove and dove, a star falling from the heavens— Then flared those wings wide and shot upward. Nesryn was glad she had forgone breakfast. For surely it would have come spewing out of her mouth at what the motion did to her stomach.

Within the span of a few beats, Kadara banked right—toward the horizon just turning pink. The sprawl of Antica spread before them, smaller and smaller as they rose into the skies. Until it was no more than a cobblestoned road beneath them, spreading into every direction. Until she could spy the olive groves and wheat fields just outside the city. The country estates and small towns speckled about. The rippling dunes of the northern desert to her left. The sparkling, snaking band of rivers turning golden in the rising sun that crested over the mountains to her right. Sartaq did not speak. Did not point out landmarks. Not even the pale line of the Sister-Road that ran toward the southern horizon. No, in the rising light, he let Kadara have her head. The ruk took them floating higher still, the air turning crisp—the awakening blue sky brightening with each mighty flap of her wings.

Open. So open. Not at all like the endless sea, the tedious waves and cramped ship. This was… this was breath. This was… She could not look fast enough, drink it all in. How small everything was, how lovely and pristine. A land claimed by a conquering nation, yet loved and nurtured. Her land. Her home. (Ana's Note: You're going to be the Grand Empress there, girl, you just don't know it yet😏)

The sun and the scrub and the undulating grasslands that beckoned in the distance. The lush jungles and rice fields to the west; the pale sand dunes of the desert to the northeast. More than she could see in a lifetime—farther than Kadara could fly in a single day. An entire world, this land. The entire world contained here. She could not understand why her father had left. Why he had stayed, when such darkness had crept into Adarlan. Why he had kept them in that festering city where she so rarely looked up at the sky, or felt a breeze that did not reek of the briny Avery or the rubbish rotting in the streets.

“You are quiet,” the prince said, and it was more question than statement. Nesryn admitted in Halha, “I don’t have words to describe it.” She felt Sartaq smile near her shoulder. “That was what I felt—that first ride. And every ride since.”

“I understand why you stayed at the camp those years ago. Why you are eager to return.” A beat of quiet. “Am I so easy to read?”

“How could you not wish to return?”

“Some consider my father’s palace to be the finest in the world.”

“It is.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 12)

This conversation took place during their first flight and I think it was very important for the outcome of the story itself.

“And are you? Willing to hear us out?” Sartaq didn’t answer for a long moment, only the screaming wind filling the quiet. “I would listen. To you and Lord Westfall. I would hear what you know, what has happened to you both. I do not hold as much sway with my father as others, but he knows the ruk riders are loyal to me.”

“I thought—”

“That I was his favorite?” A low, bitter laugh. “I perhaps stand a chance at being named Heir, but the khagan does not select his Heir based on whom he loves best. Even so, that particular honor goes to Duva and Kashin.” Sweet-faced Duva, she could understand, but—“Kashin?”

“He is loyal to my father to a fault. He has never schemed, never backstabbed. I’ve done it—plotted and maneuvered against them all to get what I want. But Kashin... He may command the land armies and the horse-lords, he may be brutal when required, but with my father, he is guileless. There has never been a more loving or loyal son. When our father dies… I worry. What the others will do to Kashin if he does not submit, or worse: what his death will do to Kashin himself.” She dared ask, “What would you do to him?” Destroy him, if he will not swear fealty?

“It remains to be seen what sort of threat or alliance he could pose. Only Duva and Arghun are married, and Arghun has yet to sire offspring. Though Kashin, if he has his way, would likely sweep that young healer off her feet.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 12)

Nesryn agrees to go with Sartaq to the Tavan mountains (where the rukhin live). And anyone who has read Tower of Dawn will remember that the time Nesryn spent with them was very good. I will try to make a compilation of all the times Nesryn felt at home in Eridun.

His face remained neutral, even as he added, “I’m sure your family will have my head for offering, but … would you like to accompany me?” Yes, she wanted to breathe. But she made herself ask, “For how long?” For time was not on her side. Their side. And to hunt for answers while so many threats gathered close… “A few weeks. No more than three. I like to keep the riders in line, and if I go absent for too long, they pull at the leash. So the journey will serve two purposes, I suppose.”

“I—I would need to discuss. With Lord Westfall.” She’d promised him as much last night. That they’d consider this precise path, weighing the pitfalls and benefits. They were still a team in that regard, still served under the same banner. Sartaq nodded solemnly, as if he could read everything on her face. “Of course. Though I leave soon.” She then heard it—the grunt of servants coming up the aerie stairs. Bringing supplies.

“You leave now,” Nesryn clarified as she noted the spear leaning against the far wall near the supply racks. His sulde. The russet horsehair tied beneath the blade drifted in the wind weaving through the aerie, the dark wood shaft polished and smooth. Sartaq’s onyx eyes seemed to darken further as he strode to his sulde, weighing the spirit-banner in his hands before resting it beside him, the wood thunking on the stone floor. “I…” It was the first she’d seen him stumble for words.

“You weren’t going to say good-bye?” She had no right to make such demands, expect such things, tentative allies or no. But Sartaq leaned his sulde against the wall again and began braiding back his black hair. “After last night’s party, I had thought you would be … preoccupied.”

With Chaol. Her brows rose. “All day?” The prince gave her a roguish smile, finishing off his long braid and picking up his spear once more. “I certainly would take all day.”

..............

Sartaq was still watching, his face carefully neutral as the last of the servants bowed and vanished. His sulde had been strapped just below the saddle, within easy reach should the prince need it, its reddish horsehairs trailing in the wind. Trailing southward. Toward that distant, wild land of the Tavan Mountains. Beckoning, as all spirit-banners did, toward an unknown horizon. Beckoning to claim whatever waited there. Nesryn said quietly, “Yes.”

The prince blinked. “I will go with you,” she clarified. A small smile tugged on his mouth. “Good.”

.............

She found Sartaq atop Kadara, waiting for her. The prince extended a callused hand to help her up into the saddle. She didn’t hesitate as she took his hand, his strong fingers wrapping around hers, and let him pull her into the saddle before him. He strapped and buckled them in, checked all of it thrice. But he reined in Kadara when she would have soared out of the minaret. Sartaq whispered in Nesryn’s ear, “I was praying to the Eternal Sky and all thirty-six gods that you’d say yes.” She smiled, even if he couldn’t see it.

“So was I,” Nesryn breathed, and they leaped into the skies. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 24)

OK, I HAVE NO DESCRIPTION FOR THAT MOMENT. “So don’t be surprised if there’s now a story or two about you already finding its way across the world.”

“And what are the tales they tell about you, Nesryn Faliq?” She chewed on the salted pork. “No one has any stories about me.” It didn’t bother her. Fame, notoriety … She valued other things more, she supposed.

“Not even the story about the arrow that saved a shape-shifter’s life? The impossible shot fired from a rooftop?” She snapped her head toward him. Sartaq only swigged from his water with a look that said, I told you my spies were good.

.............

“Neith’s Arrow,” Sartaq said after uncounted minutes, leaning back against the rock. Nesryn dragged her gaze from the stars to find his face limned in moonlight, silver dancing along the pure onyx of his braid. He rested his forearms on his knees. “That’s what my spies called you, what I called you until you arrived. Neith’s Arrow.” The Goddess of Archery—and the Hunt, originally hailing from an ancient sand-swept kingdom to the west, now enfolded into the khaganate’s vast pantheon. A corner of his mouth tugged upward. “So don’t be surprised if there’s now a story or two about you already finding its way across the world.”

Nesryn observed him for a long moment, the howling mountain wind blending with Kadara’s snoring. She’d always excelled at archery, took pride in her unmatched aim, but she had not learned because she coveted renown. She’d done it because she enjoyed it, because it gave her a direction to aim that wind-seeking inclination. And yet …

Sartaq cleared away the last of the food and did a quick check that the campsite was secure before heading off between the boulders himself. With only those foreign stars to witness, Nesryn smiled. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 25)

That conversation...... Without words. Nestaq is the serious couple that knows how to be hilarious.

“Were you ever—”

“It’s not worth talking about.” Not when she could sometimes still feel that rock as it collided with her head, hear the taunts of those children. She swallowed and added, “Your Highness.” A low laugh. “So my title makes an appearance again.” But he didn’t press further. He only said, “I’m going to beg you not to call me Prince or Your Highness around the other riders.”

“You’re going to beg me, or you are?” His arms tightened around her in mock warning. “It took me years to get them to stop asking if I needed my silk slippers or servants to brush my hair.” Nesryn chuckled. “Amongst them, I am simply Sartaq.” He added, “Or Captain.”

“Captain?”

“Another thing you and I have in common, it seems.” Shameless flirt indeed. “But you rule all six ruk clans. They answer to you.”

“They do, and when we all gather, I am Prince. But amongst my family’s own clan, the Eridun, I captain their forces. And obey the word of my hearth-mother.” He squeezed her again for emphasis. “Which I’d advise you doing as well, if you don’t want to be stripped and tied to a cliff face in the middle of a storm.”

“Holy gods.”

“Indeed.”

“Did she—”

“Yes. And as you said, it’s not worth talking about.” But Nesryn chuckled again, surprised to find her face aching from smiling so often these past few minutes. “I appreciate the warning, Captain.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

"Emissary or bride?" “Sartaq never brings such pretty ladies home—from Adarlan or Antica. Be careful walking around the cliff edges, Captain Faliq, or some of the girls here might give you a shove.” Borte, you are of my clan, girl.

A faint gleam of approval entered Borte’s dark eyes just before the girl jerked her chin toward Nesryn. “A Balruhni woman in the leathers of a rukhin. Now, there’s a sight.” Sartaq didn’t answer. He only glanced in Nesryn’s direction. An invitation. And challenge. So Nesryn slipped her hands into the pockets of her close-fitting pants and sauntered to the prince’s side. “Will it be improved if I tell you I caught Sartaq filing his nails this morning?”

Borte stared at Nesryn, blinking once. Then she tipped back her head and howled. Sartaq threw an approving yet beleaguered glance in Nesryn’s direction before saying, “Meet my hearth-sister, Borte. Granddaughter and heir of my hearth-mother, Houlun.” He reached between them to tug one of Borte’s braids. She batted his hand away. “Borte, meet Captain Nesryn Faliq.” He paused for a breath, then added, “Of the Royal Guard of Adarlan.” Silence. Borte’s arched dark brows rose. An aging man in rukhin leathers pressed forward. “But what is more unusual: that a Balruhni woman is their captain, or that a captain of Adarlan has ventured so far?” Borte waved the man off. “Always the idle chatter and questions with you,” she scolded him. And to Nesryn’s shock, the man winced and shut his mouth. “The real question is...” A sly grin at Sartaq. “Does she come as emissary or bride?” Any attempt at a steady, cool, calm appearance vanished as Nesryn gaped at the girl. Right as Sartaq snapped, “Borte.”

Borte gave a downright wicked grin. “Sartaq never brings such pretty ladies home—from Adarlan or Antica. Be careful walking around the cliff edges, Captain Faliq, or some of the girls here might give you a shove.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

I didn't know whether to smile or scream.

Sartaq’s smile grew. “Perhaps we could also do a bit of archery practice.” He looked her over with a frankness that made her shift in her seat. “I’m certainly keen to match myself against Neith’s Arrow, and I’m sure the young warriors are, too.” Nesryn pushed back her own plate, brows lifting. “They’ve heard of me?” Sartaq grinned. “I might have told a story or two the last time I came here. Why do you think there were so many people gathered when we arrived? They certainly don’t usually bother to drag themselves here to see me.” “But Borte seemed like she’d never—”

“Does Borte seem like a person who gives anyone an easy time?” Something deeper in her warmed. “No. But how could they have known I was coming?” His answering grin was the portrait of princely arrogance. “Because I sent word a day before that you were likely to join me.” Nesryn gaped at him, unable to maintain that mask of calm. Rising, Sartaq scooped up their plates. “I told you that I was praying you’d join me, Nesryn Faliq. If I’d shown up empty-handed, Borte would have never let me hear the end of it.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 29)

"They didn’t mention that you’re beautiful." huh huh!!

“Pick a mark,” Nesryn told Borte. The woman smirked. “Neck, heart, head.” She pointed to each of the three dummies, a different mark for each one. Wind rattled them, the aim and strength needed to hit each utterly different. Borte knew it—all the warriors here did. Nesryn lifted an arm behind her head, dragging her fingers along the fletching, the feathers rippling against her skin as she scanned the three targets. Listened to the murmur of the winds racing past Rokhal, that wild summons she heard echoed in her own heart. Wind-seeker, her mother had called her. One after another, Nesryn withdrew an arrow and fired.

Again, and again, and again.

Again, and again, and again.

Again, and again, and again.

And when she finished, only the howling wind answered—the wind of Torke, the Roarer. Every training ring had stopped. Staring at what she’d done. Instead of three arrows distributed amongst the three dummies, she’d fired nine. Three rows of perfectly aligned shots on each: heart, neck, and head. Not an inch of difference. Even with the singing winds. Sartaq was grinning when she turned to him, his long braid drifting behind him, as if it were a sulde itself. But Borte elbowed past him, and breathed to Nesryn, “Show me.”

...................

But then Sartaq said, “You’re a good teacher.”

“Thank you.” It was all she could think to say. He’d kept close to her side while she walked the others through her various positions and techniques, but had said little. A leader who did not need to constantly be filling the air with talking and boasting. He blew out a breath, shoulders loosening. “And I’m relieved to see that the reality lives up to the legend.” Nesryn chuckled, grateful to be back on safer ground. “You had doubts?” They reached the landing that would take them to the great hall. Sartaq let her fall into step beside him. “The reports left out some key information. It made me doubt their accuracy.” It was the sly gleam in his eye that made Nesryn angle her head. “What, exactly, did they fail to mention?” They reached the great hall, empty save for a cloaked figure just barely visible on the other side of the fire pit—and someone sitting beside her.

But Sartaq turned to her, examining her from head to toe and back again. There was little that he missed. “They didn’t mention that you’re beautiful.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 30)

Nesryn saving Sartaq's life.

“Don’t.” He gave her an incredulous look over his shoulder. Nesryn kept her own face like stone. “Your ej said these towers were laid with traps. Just because we have yet to see one does not mean they are not still here.” She pointed with her arrow toward the open archway to the levels belowground. “We keep quiet, tread carefully. I go first.” To hell with being the rearguard, if he was prone to plunging into danger. The prince’s eyes flared, but she didn’t let him object. “I faced some of the horrors of Morath this spring and summer. I know how to mark them—and where to strike.” Sartaq looked her over again. “You really should have been promoted.” Nesryn smiled, releasing his muscled bicep. Wincing as she realized the liberties she’d taken by grabbing him, touching a prince without permission—

“Two captains, remember?” he said, noting the cringe she failed to hide. Indeed. Nesryn inclined her head and stepped in front of him—and into the archway of the stairs leading below. Her arm strained as she pulled the bowstring taut, scanning the darkness immediately beyond the stairwell entrance. When nothing leaped out, she slackened the bow, placed her arrow back in the quiver, and plucked up a handful of rocks from the ground, shards and chips from the felled blocks of stone around them. A step behind, Sartaq did the same, filling his pockets with them. Listening carefully, Nesryn rolled one of the rocks down the spiral stairs, letting it bounce and crack and— A faint click, and Nesryn hurled herself back, slamming into Sartaq and sending them both sprawling to the ground. A thud sounded within the stairwell below, then another. In the quiet that followed, her heavy breathing the only sound, she listened again. “Hidden bolts,” she observed, wincing as she found Sartaq’s face mere inches away. His eyes were upon the stairwell, even as he kept a hand on her back, the other angling his long knife toward the archway.

“Seems I owe you my life, Captain,” Sartaq said, and Nesryn quickly peeled back, offering a hand to help him rise. He clasped it, his hand warm around hers as she hauled him to his feet. “Don’t worry,” Nesryn said drily. “I won’t tell Borte.” She plucked up another handful of rocks and sent them rolling and scattering down the gloom of the stairs. A few more clicks and thumps—then silence. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 33)

Sartaq saving Nesryn's life.

Click. Nesryn was so focused on the wall ahead that she didn’t consider where the click had come from. Not in front, but below. One heartbeat, she was crouched on a step. The next, it had slid away beneath her feet, a black pit yawning open beneath— Strong hands wrapped around her shoulder, her collar, a blade clattering on stone— Nesryn scrabbled for the lip of the nearest stair as Sartaq held her, grunting at her weight, his long knife tumbling into the blackness beneath. Metal hit metal. Bounced off it again and again, the clanking filling the stairwell. Spikes. Likely a field of metal spikes—

Sartaq hauled her up, and her nails cracked on stone as she grappled for purchase on the smooth step. But then she was up, half sprawled on the stairs between Sartaq’s legs, both of them panting as they peered to the gap beyond. “I think we’re even,” Nesryn said, fighting and failing to master her shaking. The prince clasped her shoulder, while his other hand brushed down the back of her head. A comforting, casual touch. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 33)

We know who's in command in the relationship

Nesryn caught him before he could eat dirt, and snapped at Sartaq, “If you don’t get him bandages and supplies right now, I’ll give you a wound to match.” The prince blinked at her, mouth falling open. Then he whistled through his teeth, sharp and swift, while he strode for Kadara, his steps clipped. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 35)

This is more how Nesryn felt among the rukhin than a Nestaq moment. I'm going to kind of open a giant parenthesis to leave this here.

She’d never seen anything so great and unforgiving, so vast and beautiful. And even though she was as insignificant as a mayfly compared with the size of the mountains around them, some piece of her felt keenly a part of it, born from it. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 30)

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It was the warm welcome that still surprised her. The smiles of the rukhin who asked, some shyly, some boldly, for demonstrations with her bow and arrow. But for all she showed them, she, too, learned. Went soaring with Sartaq through the mountain passes, the prince calling out targets and Nesryn striking them, learning how to fire into the wind, as the wind. He even let her ride Kadara alone—just once, and enough for her to again wonder how they let four-year-olds do it, but … she’d never felt so unleashed. So unburdened and unbridled and yet settled in herself.

So they went, clan to clan, hearth to hearth. Sartaq checking up on the riders and their training, stopping to visit new babes and ailing old folk. Nesryn remained his shadow—or tried to. Anytime she lingered a step back, Sartaq nudged her forward. Anytime there was a task to be done with the others, he asked her to do it. The washing-up after a meal, the returning of arrows from target practice, the cleaning-out of the ruk droppings from halls and nests. The last task, at least, the prince joined her in. No matter his rank, no matter his status as captain, he did every chore without a word of complaint. No one was above work, he told her when she’d asked one night. And whether she was scraping crusted droppings from the ground or teaching young warriors how to string a bow, something restless in her had settled.

She could no longer picture it—the quiet meetings at the palace in Rifthold where she had given solemn guards their orders and then parted ways amongst marble floors and finery. Could not remember the city barracks, where she’d lurked in the back of a crowded room, gotten her orders, and then stood on a street corner for hours, watching people buy and eat and argue and walk about. Another lifetime, another world. Here in the deep mountains, breathing in the crisp air, seated around the fire pit to hear Houlun narrate tales of rukhin and the horse-lords, tales of the first khagan and his beloved wife, whom Borte had been named after… She could not remember that life before. And did not want to go back to it. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 37)

“Another tale to spread of Neith’s Arrow.” I didn't cry here. And beautiful, smart, excellent archer, and sings well. Nesryn Faliq, the complete package.

“But I can sing for you.” Silence. Houlun set down her whetstone. “A song would be appreciated.” A scowl at Borte and Sartaq. “Since neither of my children can carry a tune to save their lives.” Borte rolled her eyes at her hearth-mother, but Sartaq bowed his head in apology, a crooked grin now on his mouth. Nesryn smiled, even as her heart pounded at her bold offer. She’d never really performed for anyone, but this … It was not performing, as much as it was sharing. She listened to the wind whispering outside the cave mouth for a long moment, the others falling quiet.

“This is a song of Adarlan,” she said at last. “From the foothills north of Rifthold, where my mother was born.” An old, familiar ache filled her chest. “She used to sing this to me—before she died.” A glimmer of sympathy in Houlun’s steely gaze. But Nesryn glanced to Borte as she spoke, finding the young woman’s face unusually soft—staring at Nesryn as if she had not seen her before. Nesryn gave her a small, subtle nod. It is a weight we both bear. Borte offered a small, quiet smile in return. Nesryn listened to the wind again. Let herself drift back to her pretty little bedroom in Rifthold, let herself feel her mother’s silken hands stroking her face, her hair. She had been so taken with her father’s stories of his far-off homeland, of the ruks and horse-lords, that she had rarely asked for anything about Adarlan itself, despite being a child of both lands.

And this song of her mother’s … One of the few stories she had, in the form she loved best. Of her homeland in better days. And she wanted to share it with them—that glimpse into what her land might again become. Nesryn cleared her throat. Took a bracing breath. And then she opened her mouth and sang. The crackle of the fire her only drum, Nesryn’s voice filled the Mountain-Hall of Altun, wending through the ancient pillars, bouncing off the carved rock. She had the sense of Sartaq going very still, had the sense that there was nothing hard or laughing on his face. But she focused on the song, on those long-ago words, that story of distant winters and speckles of blood on snow; that story of mothers and their daughters, how they loved and fought and tended to each other.

Her voice soared and fell, bold and graceful as a ruk, and Nesryn could have sworn that even the howling winds paused to listen. And when she finished, a gilded, high note of the spring sun breaking across cold lands, when silence and the crackling fire filled the world once more… Borte was crying. Silent tears streaming down her pretty face. Houlun’s hand was tightly wrapped around her granddaughter’s, the whetstone set aside. A wound still healing—for both of them.

And perhaps Sartaq, too—for grief limned his face. Grief, and awe, and perhaps something infinitely more tender as he said, “Another tale to spread of Neith’s Arrow.”

She ducked her head again, accepting the praise of the others with a smile. Falkan clapped as best he could manage and called for another song. Nesryn, to her surprise, obliged them. A merry, bright mountain song her father had taught her, of rushing streams amid blooming fields of wildflowers. But even as the night moved on, as Nesryn sang in that beautiful mountain-hall, she felt Sartaq’s stare. Different from any he’d given before. And though she told herself she should, Nesryn did not look away. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 37)

I can't be the only person who is passionate about the conversations Nestaq has in the sky.

Nesryn chewed her lip. “Why—why is it that you haven’t married?” She’d never had the nerve to ask. Though she’d certainly found herself wondering it during these weeks. Sartaq’s hands flexed on the reins before he answered. “I’ve been too busy. And the women who have been presented as potential brides… They were not for me.”She had no right to pry, but she asked, “Why?” (Ana's Note: because them were not you, duh.)

“Because whenever I showed them Kadara, they either cowered, or pretended to be interested in her, or asked just how much time I’d be spending away.”

“Hoping for frequent absences, or because they’d miss you?” Sartaq chuckled. “I couldn’t tell. The question itself felt like enough of a leash that I knew they were not for me.”

“So your father allows you to wed where you will?” Dangerous, strange territory. She waited for him to tease her about it, but Sartaq fell quiet. “Yes. Even Duva’s arranged marriage … She was all for it. Said she didn’t want to have to sort through a court of snakes to find one good man and still pray he hadn’t deceived her. I wonder if there’s something to be said for it. She lucked out, anyway—quiet as he is, her husband adores her. I saw his face the moment they met. Saw hers, too. Relief, and … something more.” And what would become of them—of their child—if another Heir were chosen for the throne? Nesryn asked carefully, “Why not end this tradition of competing with each other?” Sartaq was silent for a long minute. “Perhaps one day, whoever takes the throne will end it. Love their siblings more than they honor the tradition. I like to believe we have moved past who we were centuries ago—when the empire was still fledgling. But perhaps now, these years of relative peace, perhaps this is the dangerous time.” He shrugged, his body shifting against hers. “Perhaps war will sort the matter of succession for us.” And maybe it was because they were so high above the world, because that dim land swept ever closer, but Nesryn asked, “There is nothing that would keep you from war if it called, then?”

“You sound as if you are reconsidering this goal of yours to drag us into the north.” She stiffened. “I will admit that these weeks here … It was easier before to ask for your aid. When the rukhin were a nameless, faceless legion. When I did not know their names, their families. When I did not know Houlun, or Borte. Or that Borte is betrothed.” A low laugh at that. Borte had refused—outright refused—to answer Nesryn’s questions about Yeran. She said it wasn’t even worth talking about. “I’m sure Borte would be glad to go to war, if only to compete with Yeran for glory on the battlefield.”

“A true love match, then.” Sartaq smiled at her ear. “You have no idea.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 41)

It was all too intense here, damn spiders, Kadara hurt, Nesryn and Sartaq almost dying, the confession... And no, I didn't cry. Again. You realize how important Kadara is to the Sartaq.

Sartaq pivoted them, his body a solid wall around hers as Nesryn realized where the sky was, where the pass floor was— He roared as they struck the shale, as he kept her atop him, taking the full brunt of the impact.

.................

“Not broken,” he rasped. “Not broken.” It was more to himself than her. But Nesryn managed to keep her fingers steady as she freed the buckles. The thick riding leathers had saved his life, saved his skin from being flayed off his bones. He’d taken the impact for her, moved her so that he’d hit it first— She clawed at the shale covering his shoulders and his upper arms, sharp rock cutting into her fingers. The leather strap at the end of her braid had come free in the impact, and her hair now fell about her face, half blocking her view of the forest behind and rock around them. “Get up,” she panted. “Get up.” He took a breath, blinking furiously. “Get up,” she begged him. Shale shifted ahead, and a low, pained cry echoed off the rock. Sartaq snapped upright. “Kadara—”

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The mighty ruk tried and failed to rise. “FLY,” Sartaq bellowed. Slowly, so slowly the ruk lumbered to her legs, her scraped beak dragging through the loose rock. She wasn’t going to make it. Wasn’t going to get airborne in time. For just beyond the web-shrouded tree line… Shadows writhed. Scuttled closer. Nesryn sheathed her sword and drew her bow, arrow shaking as she aimed it toward the rock the hatchling had been hauled behind, then the trees a hundred yards off.

“Go, Kadara,” Sartaq begged. “Get up!” The bird was barely in shape to fly, let alone carry riders— Rock clacked and skittered behind her. From the labyrinth of rock within the pass. Trapped. They were trapped— Falkan shifted in her pocket, trying to wriggle free. Nesryn covered him with her forearm, pressing hard. “Not yet,” she breathed. “Not yet.” His powers were not Lysandra’s. He had tried and failed to shift into a ruk this week. But the large wolf was as big as he could manage. Anything larger was beyond his magic.

“Kadara—” The first of the spiders broke from the tree line. As black and sleek as her fallen sister. Nesryn let her arrow fly. The spider fell back, screaming—an unholy sound that shook the rocks as that arrow sank into an eye. Nesryn instantly had another arrow drawn, backing toward Kadara, who was just now beginning to flap her wings— The ruk stumbled. Sartaq screamed, “FLY!”

Wind stirred Nesryn’s hair, sending shards of shale skittering. The ground rumbled behind, but Nesryn did not dare take her eyes off the second spider that emerged from the trees. She fired again, the song of her arrow drowned out by the flap of Kadara’s wings. A heavy, pained beat, but it held steady— Nesryn glanced behind for a breath. Just one, just to see Kadara bobbing and waving, fighting for every wing beat upward through the narrow pass, blood and shale dripping from her. Right as a kharankui emerged from one of the shadows of the rocks high up the peak, legs bending as if it would leap upon the ruk’s back— Nesryn fired, a second arrow on its tail. Sartaq’s. Both found their marks. One through an eye, the other through the open mouth of the spider. It shrieked, tumbling down from its perch. Kadara swung wide to dodge it, narrowly avoiding the jagged face of the peak. The spider’s splat thudded through the maze of rock ahead. But then Kadara was up, into the gray sky, flapping like hell. Sartaq whirled toward Nesryn just as she looked back at the pine forest. To where half a dozen kharankui now emerged, hissing. Blood coated the prince, his every breath ragged, but he managed to grab Nesryn’s arm and breathe, “Run.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 42)

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Nesryn just pushed onward, the pass becoming a fraction wider, counting her breaths. They were likely some of her last— Thinking that way helped no one and nothing. She’d stared down death this summer, when that wave of glass had come crashing toward her. Had stared it down, and been saved. Perhaps she would be lucky again, too. Sartaq stumbled out behind her, breathing hard. Water. They desperately needed water—and bandages for his wounds. If the spiders did not find them, then the lack of water in the arid pass might very well kill them first. Long before any help arrived from the Eridun rukhin. Nesryn forced one step in front of another, the path narrowing again, the rock as tight as a vise. She twisted sideways, edging through, her swords scraping. Sartaq grunted, then let out a pained curse. “I’m stuck.”

She found him indeed wedged behind her, the bulk of his broad chest and shoulders pinned. He shoved himself forward, blood leaking from his wounds as he pushed and pulled. “Stop,” she ordered. “Stop—wriggle back out if you can.” There was no other way through and nothing to climb over, but if they removed his weapons— His dark eyes met hers. She saw the words forming. You keep going.

“Sartaq,” she breathed. They heard it then. Claws clicking on stone. Skittering along. Many of them. Too many. Coming from behind, closing in. Nesryn grabbed the prince’s hand, tugging. “Push,” she panted. “Push.” He grunted in pain, the veins in his neck bulging as he tried to squeeze through, his boots scraping on the loose rock— Nesryn dug her own feet in, gritting her teeth as she hauled him forward. Click, click, click—

“Harder,” she gasped. Sartaq angled his head, shoving against the rock that held him.

“What a fine morsel, our guest,” hissed a soft female voice. “So large he cannot even fit through the passage. How we shall feast.” Nesryn heaved and heaved, her grip treacherously slippery with sweat and blood from both of them, but she clamped onto his wrist hard enough that she felt bones shift beneath—

“Go,” he whispered, straining to push through. “You run.” Falkan was shifting in her pocket, trying to emerge. But with the rock pressing on her chest, the passage was too tight for even him to poke out his head—

“A pretty pair,” that female continued. “How her hair shines like a moonless night. We shall take you both back to our home, our honored guests.” A sob clawed its way up Nesryn’s throat. “Please,” she begged, scanning the rock high above them, the lip into the upper reaches of the narrow pass, the curving horns of the peaks, tugging and tugging on Sartaq’s arm. “Please,” she begged them, begged anyone.

But Sartaq’s face went calm. So calm. He stopped pushing, stopped trying to haul himself forward. Nesryn shook her head, pulling on his arm. He did not move. Not an inch. His dark eyes met hers. There was no fear in them. Sartaq said to her, clear and steady, “I heard the spies’ stories of you. The fearless Balruhni woman in Adarlan’s empire. Neith’s Arrow. And I knew…” Nesryn sobbed, tugging and tugging. (Ana's Note: here I was almost creating a new ocean with so many tears)

Sartaq smiled at her—gently. Sweetly. In a way she had not yet seen. “I loved you before I ever set eyes on you,” he said. “Please,” Nesryn wept. Sartaq’s hand tightened on hers. “I wish we’d had time.” A hiss behind him, a rising bulk of shining black— Then the prince was gone. Ripped from her hands.

As if he had never been. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 47)

Coming out of hell at last.

Another cry split the night, one she’d learned as well as her own voice. And there was Kadara, sailing hard for them, two other ruks in her wake. Sartaq let out what might have been a sob as one of the other ruks broke away, diving to where Borte swept and lunged and shattered through the kharankui ranks.

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Borte was not done. A light sparked atop her ruk. A flaming arrow. Borte fired it high into the sky. A signal, Nesryn realized as countless wings filled the air around them. And as Borte’s arrow landed atop a web, flame erupting, hundreds of lights kindled in the sky. Ruk riders. Each bearing a flaming arrow. Each now pointing downward. Like a rain of shooting stars, the arrows fell upon the darkness of Dagul. Landed on web and tree. And caught fire. One after another after another.

Until the night was lit up, until smoke streamed, mingling with the rising screams from the peaks and wood. The ruks veered northward, Nesryn shaking as she clung to the talons holding her. Across the way, Sartaq met her gaze, his now-shoulder-length hair rippling in the wind. With the flames below, it made the wounds to his face, his hands, his neck all the more gruesome. His skin was wan, his lips pale, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and relief. And yet…

Sartaq smiled, barely a curve of his mouth. The words the prince had confessed drifted on the wind between them. She could not take her eyes from him. Could not look away. So Nesryn smiled back.

And below and behind them, long into the night, the Dagul Fells burned. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 51)

She loves him, yes. No one can tell me otherwise. Look at this relationship. Look how they interact. Only one thing: perfection.

When Nesryn faced Sartaq, it was in time to see him sway. She lunged, her aching body protesting as she caught the prince around the middle. Someone shouted for a healer, but Sartaq got his legs beneath him, even as he kept his arms about her. Nesryn found herself disinclined to remove her own arms from his waist. Sartaq stared down at her, that soft, sweet smile on his mouth again. “You saved me.”

“It seemed a sorry end for the tales of the Winged Prince,” she replied, frowning at the gash in his leg. “You should be sitting—” Across the hall, light flashed, people cried out… and then the spider was gone. Replaced by a man, covered in slashing cuts and blood. When Nesryn looked back, Sartaq’s gaze was on her face. Her throat closed up, her mouth pressing into a trembling line as she realized that they were here. They were here, and alive, and she had never known such true terror and despair as she had in those moments when he had been hauled away.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his mouth over the tears that escaped. He said against her skin, “Whatever would they say about Neith’s Arrow then?” Nesryn laughed despite herself, despite what had happened, and wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she dared, resting her head against his chest. Sartaq just wordlessly stroked her hair and held her right back.

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Nesryn had slept the entirety of the day before. Not in her room, but curled in bed beside the prince now standing with her before the assembled group. They had both been patched up and bathed, and though Sartaq had not so much as kissed her… Nesryn had not objected when he led her by the hand and limped into his bedroom. So they had slept. And when they had awoken, when their wounds had been rebandaged, they’d emerged to find the hall full of riders. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 57)

In this scene, I really see them as the future Khagan and future Grand Empress. And together, leading, the two do not complete each other, they overflow each other.

All eyes shifted between them, some warm and welcoming, some worried, some hard. Sartaq said to the group gathered, “The kharankui have stirred again.” Murmurs and shifting rustled through the hall. “And though the threat was dealt with bravely and fiercely by the Berlad clan, the spiders will likely return again. They have heard a dark call through the world. And they are poised to answer it.” Nesryn stepped forward. Lifted her chin. And though the words filled her with dread, speaking them here felt as natural as breathing. “We learned many things in the Pass of Dagul,” Nesryn said, voice ringing out across the pillars and stones of the hall. “Things that will change the war in the north. And change this world.” Every eye was on her now. Houlun nodded from her spot near Borte, who smiled in encouragement. Yeran sat nearby, half watching his betrothed. Sartaq’s fingers brushed hers. Once—in urging. And promise.

“We do not face an army of men in the northern continent,” Nesryn went on. “But of demons. And if we do not rise to meet this threat, if we do not rise to meet it as one people, of all lands… Then we will find our doom instead.” So she told them. The full history. Of Erawan. And Maeve. She did not mention the quest for the keys, but by the time she was done, the hall was astir as clans whispered to one another.

“I leave this choice to you,” Sartaq said, voice unfaltering. “The horrors in the Dagul Fells are only the start. I will pass no judgment, should you choose to remain. But all who fly with me, we soar under the khagan’s banner. We shall leave you to debate amongst yourselves.” And with that, taking Nesryn by the hand, Sartaq led her from the hall, Falkan falling into step behind them. Borte and Houlun remained, as heads of the Eridun clan. Nesryn knew how they would side, that they would fly north, but the others… - (Tower of Dawn chapter 57)

Back to Antica. Finally, Nesryn and Chaol are resolved. The Rukhin ready to go to war. Sartaq ready to marry.

“I know,” Sartaq said quietly. The prince turned to Nesryn, and as she held his stare … Chaol saw it. The glimmer between them. A bond, new and trembling. But there it was, right along with the cuts and wounds they both bore. “I know,” Sartaq said again, his fingers brushing Nesryn’s.

Nesryn met Chaol’s eyes then. She smiled softly at him, glancing to where Yrene now asked Hafiza about whether she could stand. He’d never seen Nesryn appear so … settled. So quietly happy. Chaol swallowed. I’m sorry, he said silently. Nesryn shook her head as Sartaq scooped his sister into his arms with a grunt, the prince balancing his weight on his good leg. I think I did just fine.

Chaol smiled. Then I am happy for you.

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Nesryn wiped away her tears as Chaol closed the distance between them and embraced her tightly. “Thank you,” he said in Nesryn’s ear. She squeezed him back. “Thank you—for bringing me here. To all of this.” To the prince who now looked at Nesryn with a quiet, burning sort of emotion. She added, “We have many things to tell you.” Chaol nodded. “And we you.”

They pulled apart, and Yrene approached—throwing her arms around Nesryn as well. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 64)

And honestly, I love the fact that Nesryn and Yrene get along. There are people who wanted the two to hate each other and I'm like: people, why?

This is not a Nestaq moment either, it is a point about Nesryn and Salkhi, which in a way, Sartaq was the one who gave it a little push to happen.

“That one over there,” the prince said at last, pointing to a reddish-brown ruk sitting by the opposite wall. She’d seen the ruk often—mostly noting that he was alone, never visited by a rider, unlike some of the others. “His rider died a few months back. Clutched at his chest in a meal and died. The rider was old, but the ruk …” Sartaq smiled sadly at the bird. “He’s young—not yet four.”

“What happens to the ones whose riders die?”

“We offer them freedom. Some fly off to the wilds. Some remain.” Sartaq crossed his arms. “He remained.”

“Do they ever get new riders?”

“Some do. If they accept them. It is the ruk’s choice.” Nesryn heard the invitation in his voice. Read it in the prince’s eyes. Her throat tightened. “Our three weeks are up.”

“Indeed they are.” She faced the prince fully, tilting her head back to see his face. “We need more time.”

“So what did you say?”A simple question. But she’d taken hours to figure out how to word her letter to Chaol, then given it to Sartaq’s fastest messenger. “I asked for another three weeks.” He angled his head, watching her with that unrelenting intensity. “A great deal can happen in three weeks.” Nesryn made herself keep her shoulders squared, chin high. “Even so, at the end of it, I must return to Antica.” Sartaq nodded, though something like disappointment guttered his eyes. “Then I suppose the ruk in the aerie will have to wait for another rider to come along.” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 37)

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Nesryn murmured to the bird, guiding him toward the Runni Quarter while they flew on a salt-kissed breeze as fast as his wings could carry them. She had claimed him upon leaving the Eridun aerie.

Had gone right to the nests, where he had still waited for a rider who would never return, and looked deep into his golden eyes. Had told him that her name was Nesryn Faliq, and she was daughter of Sayed and Cybele Faliq, and that she would be his rider, if he would have her. She wondered if the ruk, whose late rider had called him Salkhi, had known the burning in her eyes had not been from the roaring wind as he’d bowed his head to her. Then she’d flown him, Salkhi keeping pace with Kadara at the head of the host as the rukhin sailed northward. Raced to Antica. - (Tower of Dawn chapter 66)

I SIMPLY HAVE NO WORDS. I am completely in love with the Sartaq (with all due respect, Nesryn). And guys, here's a big Appreciation to Nesryn's family too. I love them. Her father, her sister, her nephews and nieces, her uncle and aunt, her cousins....... What a people..... They are one of the funniest families I have ever seen in my life.

How Sartaq found her two hours later, Nesryn didn’t know. Though she supposed a ruk sitting in the street of a fancy quarter of Antica was sure to cause a stir. And be easy to spot. She had wept and laughed and held her family for untold minutes, right in the middle of the street, Salkhi looking on. And when her uncle and aunt had called them in to at least cry over a good cup of tea, her family had told her of their adventures. The wild seas they had sailed, the enemies their ship had dodged on their voyage here. But they had made it—and here they would stay while the war raged, her father said, to the nods of her uncle and aunt. When she emerged from the house gates at last, her father claiming the honor of escorting Nesryn to Salkhi—after he’d shooed off her sister to go manage that circus of children—Nesryn had halted so quickly her father had nearly slammed into her.

Because standing beside Salkhi was Sartaq, a half smile on his face. And on the other side of Salkhi… Kadara patiently waited, the two ruks a proud pair indeed. Her father’s eyes widened, as if recognizing the ruk before the prince. But then her father bowed. Deeply. Nesryn had told her family—in moderate detail—what had befallen her amongst the rukhin. Her sister and aunt had glared at her when the various children began to declare that they, too, would be ruk riders. And then took off through the house, shrieking and flapping their arms, leaping off furniture with wild abandon.

She expected Sartaq to wait to be approached, but the prince spotted her father and strode forward. Then reached out and clasped his hand. “I heard Captain Faliq’s family had at last arrived safely,” Sartaq said by way of greeting. “I thought I’d come to welcome you myself.” (Ana's Note: meeting his father-in-law 😏😌)

Something swelled in her chest to the point of pain as Sartaq inclined his head to her father. Sayed Faliq looked like he might very well keel over dead, either from the gesture of respect or Kadara’s mere presence behind them. Indeed, several small heads now popped behind his legs, scanning the prince, then the ruks, and then—

“KADARA!”

Her aunt and uncle’s youngest child—no more than four—screamed the ruk’s name loud enough that anyone in the city who didn’t know the bird was on this street was now well aware. Sartaq laughed as the children shoved past Nesryn’s father, racing for the golden bird. Her sister was on their heels, warning springing from her lips— Until Kadara lowered herself to the ground, Salkhi following suit. The children halted, reverence stealing over them as they reached out tentative hands toward the two ruks and stroked them gently. Nesryn’s sister sighed with relief. Then realized who stood before Nesryn and their father. Delara went red. She patted her dress, as if it would somehow cover the fresh food stains courtesy of her youngest. Then she slowly backed into the house, bowing as she went.

Sartaq laughed as she vanished—but not before Delara gave Nesryn a sharp look that said, Oh, you are so smitten it’s not even a laughing matter.

Nesryn gave her sister a vulgar gesture behind her back that their father chose not to see. Her father was saying to Sartaq, “I apologize if my grandchildren, nieces, and nephews take some liberties with your ruk, Prince.” But Sartaq smiled broadly—a brighter grin than any she’d seen him give before. “Kadara pretends to be a noble mount, but she’s more of a mother hen than anything.” Kadara puffed her feathers, earning squeals of delight from the children. Nesryn’s father squeezed her shoulder before he said to the prince, “I think I’ll go keep them from trying to fly off on her.”

And then they were alone. In the street. Outside her uncle’s house. All of Antica now gawking at them. Sartaq did not seem to notice. Certainly not as he said, “Walk with me?” - (Tower of Dawn chapter 66)

The end is only the beginning. One of my favorite scenes, I literally screamed with happiness.

They headed toward the quiet, clean alley behind her uncle’s house, walking in silence for a few steps. Until Sartaq said, “I spoke to my father.” And she wondered, then, if this meeting was not to be a good one. If the army they had brought was to be ordered back to its aeries. Or if the prince, the life she saw for herself in those beautiful mountains… if perhaps the reality of that, too, had found them. For he was a prince. And for all that she loved her family, for all that they made her so proud, there was not one noble drop of blood in their lineage. Her father shaking Sartaq’s hand was the closest any Faliq had ever come to royalty. Nesryn managed to say, “Oh?”

“We… discussed things.” Her chest sank at the careful words. “I see.”

Sartaq stopped, the sandy alley humming with the buzzing bees in the jasmine that climbed the walls of the bordering courtyards. The one behind them: the back, private courtyard belonging to her family. She wished she could slither over the wall and hide within. Rather than hear this. But Nesryn made herself meet the prince’s eyes. Saw him scanning her face.

“I told him,” Sartaq said at last, “that I planned to lead the rukhin against Erawan, with or without his consent.” Worse. This was getting worse and worse. She wished his face weren’t so damn unreadable. Sartaq took a breath. “He asked me why.”

“I hope you told him that the fate of the world might depend upon it.”

Sartaq chuckled. “I did. But I also told him that the woman I love now plans to head into war. And I intend to follow her.” (Ana's Note: SARTAQ, YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH YOU TOUCH MY HEART, WHAT A MAN)

She didn’t let the words sink in. Didn’t let herself believe any of it, until he’d finished. “He told me that you are common-born. That a would-be Heir of the khagan needs to wed a princess, or a lady, or someone with lands and alliances to offer.” Her throat closed up. She tried to shut out the sound, the words. Didn’t want to hear the rest.

But Sartaq took her hand. “I told him if that was what it took to be chosen as Heir, I didn’t want it. And I walked out.” (Ana's Note: oh my Holy God)

Nesryn sucked in a breath. “Are you insane?” (Ana's Note: Yes, friend, for you)

Sartaq smiled faintly. “I certainly hope not, for the sake of this empire.” He tugged her closer, until their bodies were nearly touching. “Because my father appointed me Heir before I could walk out of the room.” (Ana's Note: I collapsed.)

Nesryn left her body. Could only manage to breathe. And when she tried to bow, Sartaq gripped her shoulders tightly. Stopped her before her head could even lower. “Never from you,” he said quietly. Heir—he’d been made Heir. To all this. This land she loved, this land she still wished to explore so much it ached. Sartaq lifted a hand to cup her cheek, his calluses scraping against her skin. “We fly to war. Much is uncertain ahead. Save for this.” He brushed his mouth against hers. “Save for what I feel for you. No demon army, no dark queen or king, will change that.” Nesryn shook, letting the words sink in. “I—Sartaq, you are Heir—” He pulled back to study her again. “We will go to war, Nesryn Faliq. And when we shatter Erawan and his armies, when the darkness is at last banished from this world … Then you and I will fly back here. Together.” He kissed her again—a bare caress of his mouth. “And so we shall remain for the rest of our days.”

She heard the offer, the promise. The world he laid at her feet. She trembled at it. What he so freely gave. Not the empire and crown, but … the life. His heart.

Nesryn wondered if he knew her heart had been his from that very first ride atop Kadara.

Sartaq smiled as if to say yes, he had. So she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was tentative, and soft, and full of wonder, that kiss. He tasted like the wind, like a mountain spring. He tasted like home. Nesryn clasped his face in her hands as she pulled back. “To war, Sartaq,” she breathed, memorizing every line of his face. “And then we’ll see what comes after.”

Sartaq gave her a knowing, cocky grin. As if he’d fully decided what would come after and nothing she could say would ever convince him otherwise. And from the courtyard just a wall away, her sister shouted, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, “I told you, Father! (😂😂😂😂😂)

This is another giant parenthesis to let you know that Sartaq deserves appreciation, yes.

“My sulde still blows northward. Who knows what I may find on the road ahead? Especially now that Sartaq has the burden of being Heir, and I’m free to do as I please.” The city had been in an uproar about it. Celebrating, debating—it still raged on. What the other royal siblings thought, Yrene did not know, but… there was peace in Kashin’s eyes. And in the eyes of the others, when Yrene had seen them. And part of her indeed wondered if Sartaq had struck some unspoken agreement that went beyond Never Duva. To perhaps even Never Us.

Bonus: An excerpt of Nestaq in Kingdom of Ash.

A soft spot—her ruk had developed a soft spot and an undimming admiration for Sartaq’s mount. Though Nesryn supposed the same could be said about her and the ruk’s rider. Nesryn tore her eyes from the swirling gray clouds and glanced to the rider at her left. His shorn hair had grown out—barely. Just enough to be braided back against the wind. Sensing her attention, the Heir to the khaganate signaled, All is well? Nesryn blushed despite the cold, but signaled back, her numbed fingers clumsy over the symbols. All clear.

A blushing schoolgirl. That’s what she became around the prince, no matter the fact that they’d been sharing a bed these weeks, or what he’d promised for their future.

To rule beside him. As the future empress of the khaganate.

It was absurd, of course. The idea of her dressed like his mother, in those sweeping, beautiful robes and grand headdresses… No, she was better suited to the rukhin leathers, to the weight of steel, not jewels. She’d said as much to Sartaq. Many times. He’d laughed her off. Had said she might walk around the palace naked if she wished. What she wore or didn’t wear wouldn’t bother him in the least. But it was still a ridiculous notion. One the prince seemed to think was the only course for their future. He’d staked his crown on it, had told his father that if being prince meant not being with her, then he’d walk away from the throne. The khagan had offered him the title of Heir instead. - (Kingdom of Ash chapter 6)

And this shouts out Nesryn as Grand Empress!!!!!!!!

Sorry, Nesryn, but I've lived to see you in a dress like this.

It was great to make this post about that amazing couple, it was great to reread some of their scenes, and most of all, it's amazing to be able to bring this Appreciation to Nesryn and Sartaq. These two strong, interesting, brave characters, who have known pain and loss, but have not become victimized or angry at the world. Sartaq and Nesryn made a difference in Throne of Glass, yes. And Tower of Dawn is one of the best books I have ever read in my entire life.

Seeing Nesryn smiling more, even feeling her face hurt from laughing so hard.... That was priceless.

Nestaq is the couple that has respect, admiration, trust and equality as the basis for their relationship. At all times Sartaq treated Nesryn as an equal, always showed the admiration he felt for her, never underestimated her or put her aside, on the contrary, Sartaq took Nesryn ahead of all the clans of the rukhin, and made it clear to his father that she was worth more to him than the crown of one of the largest empires in the world.

Nestaq will always have a special place in my heart.

✧*。Wind-Seeker and her Winged Prince✧*。

✧*。The Commander of the rukhin, the future Khagan and his Neith's Arrow✧*。

Thank you for reading this far, you are welcome to add more, just don't forget to be respectful!!!