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violet-shadows · 2 years ago

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Grounded (Part Three)

Masterlist

Summary: Azriel meets a stranger in the library and finds the course of his life forever altered.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: graphic description of violence and death, canon typical misogyny and gender-based violence, wing clipping

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Azriel woke early the next morning, flying first to Windhaven, then working north through the smaller camps. Each new group greeted him much the same, with the more experienced warriors making themselves scarce while novices puffed out their chests, making a show of their hubris so that they might be thought of as brave. But one look at his shadows, dark and writhing around his hands, had them shrinking back every time. The camp lords tolerated his presence for the most part, but he was not welcome, nor did he wish to be.

When he reached his fifth and final camp for the day, he knew immediately that something was different about this settlement. The women and novices were notably absent, with only the warriors coming out to receive him. The camp lord, an older Illyrian with a reputation for traditionalism, seemed especially displeased with his arrival. He allowed Azriel to tour the camp regardless, but the Shadowsinger was acutely aware of several sets of eyes on him as he roamed the grounds.

Just as he was about to leave, a quiet whistle from a nearby window caught his attention. He moved closer, stepping out of view of the others, and saw a female peaking out of a crack in some shutters. He gave her a pointed look, prompting her to say her piece. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord, but this might be my only chance. My niece was taken to Velaris a few years back, she was injured gravely. It’s a slim chance, but perhaps you know if she’s alright. Her name is Y/N.”

Azriel froze, taking a moment to process her words. This was Y/N’s aunt, which meant the males who maimed you were somewhere in this camp. His shadows drew in close, coiling like serpents preparing to strike. “I know her. She’s well,” he told your aunt. He decided the cost of your recovery would be yours to share. “I need you to tell me who her father is, and who helped him clip her.”

The female's eyes went wide, brimming with tears as she shook her head frantically. “You can’t,” she whispered emphatically, “her father is the camp lord.” Azriel opened his mouth to argue, to tell her he’d burn down all of Illyria before he let that monster walk free, but the sound of approaching footfalls had the Y/N’s aunt hastily closing the shutters.

A few warriors, including the camp lord’s right hand, rounded the corner. “Done nosing around?” he asked.

“Actually, I have some business with your lord before I go,” Azriel replied, his siphons blaring bright. The warriors exchanged a suspicious glance but led him to the training rings nonetheless.

“What do you want?” The camp lord, Y/N’s father, asked, leveling a glare at the Shadowsinger.

“Rumor has it you’ve been clipping wings,” Azriel called out.

“Of course not. Wouldn’t dare defy the almighty High Lord,” he spat the title like a slur, sarcasm dripping from his voice. The gathering crowd of males chuckled in response.

“You and I both know that’s bullshit,” Azriel replied, stepping several paces closer. “So, I’ll ask you again, have you been clipping wings?”

“Maybe,” the male replied, drawing a blade from his belt, “And if I am, what business does that half-breed and his dogs have meddling in the natural order of things, anyway?”

“Wing clipping is punishable by death,” Azriel said, loud enough for the onlookers to hear. A hush had fallen over the gathered crowd, the atmosphere shifting as bloodshed seemed imminent.

“With proof, it is,” the camp lord spat, “see any proof ‘round here?”

“Oh, I have proof,” Azriel bared his teeth, a wild glint in his eyes. “I have all the proof I need.”

The camp lord’s face fell, surprise quickly giving way to anger, “Let me guess, that little bitch daughter of mine went crying to the High Lord.” Any restraint Azriel had hoped to show dissolved at your father's words, and before your father could blink, he was on him.

He could have driven Truth Teller through his neck right then and there, but such an end felt far too merciful. Instead, he landed blow after blow, utterly satisfied at the sound of bones crunching under his siphon-clad fists. The camp lord bucked, throwing the Shadowsinger off of him as he swiped with his blade, but Azriel could not be deterred, grasping the male by the neck and slamming him back into the earth with a thud. The other warriors knew not to intervene, to do so would undermine their camp lord’s honor, and bring them certain death.

“Is she your whore?” the camp lord spat, blood pouring from his ruined nose, “is that how she got you to come after me?” He lurched forward, but Azriel sidestepped, grabbing his wing in the process. With a roar, the shadowsinger pulled, snapping his wing bones and twisting them until they tore through leathery flesh. The male screamed in agony, stumbling out of the Shadowsinger’s hold.

“Or is it the High Lord she’s fucking? Or maybe it’s all of you, always struck me as the type to open her legs fo—,” Azriel didn’t let him finish, placing a rib-snapping kick to the center of his chest that had his opponent toppling backward. The male rolled, struggling to get his feet under him with one wing now hanging limp at his side, but the Shadowsinger was far beyond the point of showing mercy. He grasped his uninjured wing and yanked it, forcing it backward until he felt tendons and muscles pop and tear beneath his grip. The camp lord screamed again, but all Azriel would think of was you. He reckoned this was still a mercy compared to what you had endured, and he felt no remorse as he pulled the male into a kneeling position by the collar of his leathers.

Azriel drew Truth Teller and turned to address the observing crowd, intent on making his message clear. “The Night Court Law is clear: wing clipping is forbidden without exception. Let it be known that this will be the fate of anyone found to have violated that law.” Azriel turned to the camp lord and leaned down, speaking lowly in his ear.

“You deserve far more suffering than this plane of existence can offer,” he spat, grabbing the male by the hair to expose his neck. “I can only hope there is more in store for you where you’re headed.” With that, he plunged Truth Teller into the male's neck, severing his windpipe in a single stroke. Death came quickly after that, and after a few choked gurgles, Azriel let him drop, his body falling limp into the blood-soaked mud.

Silence fell over the observing crowd, and they backed away as Azriel advanced, allowing him to leave uncontested. For a moment, he thought some of the higher ranking warriors might advance on him, but bloodshed was the language of the Illyrians, and Azriel’s message had been clear. He passed your aunt’s house on his way out of the camp and briefly entertained the idea of knocking. Speaking to her now would implicate her, though, and he couldn’t risk her safety. Later, once he spoke to Rhys and came back to finish off the males who helped clip you, he would invite her to come to Velaris permanently. For now, he had to figure out how to explain himself to Rhysand, and how to tell you he had killed your father.

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Azriel didn’t stop back at Windhaven, flying through the night all the way back to Velaris, utterly exhausted by the time he landed at the House of Wind. It was still early morning, so he was able to avoid Cassian and Nesta, going directly to his room to bathe, cleansing his skin of the blood he had shed. He knew he needed to talk to Rhysand, and then to you, but his body was too weary to do anything but lay in bed after he washed. So, despite the adrenalin still coursing in his veins and the emotions warring within him, he fell into a fitful sleep.

In his first dream, he was on a beach somewhere, lying in the sand with his wings outstretched, soaking up rays of golden sunlight. In the distance, the cry of gulls could be heard over the rush of the incoming tide. You were next to him, your head resting on his chest as you absently traced patterns into his bare skin. Behind you was a set of Illyrian wings, whole and unscarred, stretched out in the sun like his. Even his shadows were at peace, pooling around the two of you in a blanket of soothing darkness. “I love you,” you murmured, and Azriel smiled, so content at that moment he could have purred like a housecat.

Then, the dream shifted with a crash of thunder in the distance. Azriel’s eyes flew open and he looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. The sea, calm and bright cerulean only moments before, had turned dark, with white-capped waves now crashing against the shore. ‘Danger’, his shadows hissed, prodding at his shoulders to spur him into action. He looked around the beach, head on a swivel as he searched for the threat he knew was coming.

“Azriel?” you murmured, this time sounding frightened. He rose up onto his knees, keeping you tucked to his chest as he tried to get his bearings. In the back of his mind, he had a sinking feeling that he was missing something, like a critical piece of information had slipped his mind. “Azriel!” you said again, this time more urgently.

Finally, he looked down and gasped at what he saw. You were pale and limp, slumped against him with half-lidded eyes. His arms, still wrapped around your torso, were slick with blood. He looked down, searching for the source, and gasped. On the ground lay two Illyrian wings, shorn from their owners back at the base, with jagged white bone protruding from ruined flesh. He turned you gently, bile rising in his throat as his horror mounted, and when he saw your back, he began to scream.

Your back was flayed open, with two deep lacerations where wings should have connected. Blood flowed freely from the wounds, pouring over his arms in a deadly waterfall. Red-coated stubs an inch or two long jutted out from each side of your spine, left behind when the wing bones were sawed through. Azriel looked up, preparing to call out for help, and found the scene around him had changed. He was no longer kneeling on the bank, but in the mud of a training ring, the one in your home camp. He craned his neck in search of aid, but what he saw made his stomach twist in horror.

Bodies littered the ground in every direction, filling the training ring in mangled heaps. Each was an Illyrian female, dead, with their wings ripped from their back. Blood pooled on the ground around him, mixing with the mud to create a putrid slop. Azriel looked up, to the edge of the ring, where a familiar male stood watching him. Your father grinned maniacally, a blood-soaked sickle in his hands. A female knelt at his feet, weeping with her head in her hands, and Azriel watched in horror as he grasped one wing and brought the blade down upon it, severing it at the base. “Stop!” Azriel screamed, willing himself to stand and intervene, but it was as though he was shackled in place, unable to do anything but watch as the other wing was severed. Your father cackled as he pulled the female, now limp and lifeless, up by her hair. “No!” Azriel choked, finally seeing her face. Your face.

It was then that he realized he recognized the bodies that were piled around them. They were all wearing the same thing: a white lace blouse and blush-colored skirt, the same as the one you wore to the restaurant. Their hair was the same as well, identical to yours in length and color. He looked at the nearest one, lying on her front in the mud with her head turned towards him. Her face was mottled with the hues of death and her eyes were glazed over, but he recognized her, recognized all of them. They were all parfect copies of you, bloodied and broken beyond repair, piled around him as monuments to his failure.

He looked down at the version of you in his arms and found you had gone still, the color drained from your face to match the greying complexion of the bodies around you. Azriel sobbed, shaking his head as he rocked your cooling corpse. Beneath you, his shadows were pooled with your blood, as if they, too had been drained of life. “Please, please, please,” he cried out, though he wasn’t sure what he was asking for. For you to wake up? For your forgiveness? For the mother to strike him dead?

A hand rested on his shoulders and he turned to see a figure looming over him, a sickle identical to the one your father wielded in hand. It took him a moment to recognize the face, for it had been hundreds of years since he last saw it. It was not your father that stood over him, but his own, as stone-faced and cruel as the day he last saw him. “Please,” Azriel whispered, feeling very much like a child again, trapped in infinite darkness and pain.

His father’s eyes were dead and unfeeling as he raised the sickle, bringing it down on both of Azriel’s wings in one devastating blow. He roared in agony as the appendages were shorn from him, joining yours in the mud. He didn’t let go of your body, falling to the side as he wailed, blood pouring from the wounds on his back. He looked up again, ready to beg his father for a merciful death, but when he looked at the hands holding the blade, he realized they were covered in familiar scars. His eyes lifted, and he stared in abject horror upon his own face, twisted in gleeful malice as he slit his own throat.

He woke screaming, hurdling from the bed onto the stone floor of his bedroom. His stomach heaved and he emptied it onto the ground, retching until only bile came up. He collapsed onto his side, his entire body shaking and covered in sweat, and he realized his face was slick with tears, still falling freely of their own volition. He lay there for some time, waiting for his breath to even out as he came back to realize. “Just a dream,” he whispered to himself, “not real.”

Even after he’d cleaned up his sick and washed the sweat from his skin, the relief that usually came after one woke from a nightmare evaded him. Azriel had his fair share of bad dreams in his life, but none that came close to this one. The vision of you in his arms, cold and lifeless with your wings shorn from your body, came to him with every blink, as though seared into the back of his eyelids. His wings ached, and if he focused on them too much he could swear he felt the phantom pain of a blade driving through bone. He did not try to go back to sleep, preferring exhaustion to the horrors that might await him in his dreams. Instead, he decided a visit to his High Lord was in order, both to answer for the killing of your father and to make some demands of his own.

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

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hacawijo · 4 years ago

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Jasmine, the Night-Blooming Flower

So I just struggle with the idea that Elain doesn’t belong in the Night Court, and I’ll have more to say about it later, but I think the use of the Jasmine scent in this series is really telling. Scent, in general, is a huge part of SJM’s writing and characterization.

I also think that the denial of Elain’s multiple facets, the denial of her darkness, the denial of the fact that flowers bloom even IN darkness... It feels like a two-dimensional way to view her. I feel like often the point of the books in this series is that darkness is so much more than just the opposite of light. It can be something that soothes and something that scares and so many other things.

Elain is a dreamer in the same way that the NC IC is. And I don’t think it’s even cut and dry that Lucien doesn’t belong in the NC, I’m not sure it’s easy to say that about ANYONE (short of High Lords <3), when the NC represents a safe place for healing regardless of someone’s life experience.

The Hewn City is not representative of most of the NC. There’s Velaris, which is secluded, yes, but there are other cities and places in the NC that aren’t the Hewn City. There’s Mor’s estate, Azriel’s. The mountains, the woods. Illyria. To say that Elain’s relation to the Hewn City is representative of her relation to the Night Court is frankly diminutive of a vast court with many different parts.

ALSO, I think it’s interesting that Elain is wearing PEARL combs in The Hewn City, that there were PEARLS on her engagement ring to Graysen, and that Lucien gifted her PEARL earrings for Solstice in ACOSF. Just another little thought I’ve been having that I wanted to throw in :)

Here’s the Night Court being associated with Jasmine:

Here’s a description of Elain’s scent, in the most recent book in the series:

AND, this little tidbit about Nesta’s River House room smelling like Jasmine is interesting I think. She describes the scent of jasmine as ‘soothing,’ and she is the one who said above her her sister’s scent is of jasmine and honey, and so it would make sense if Elain’s scent is soothing to her.

#elain #elain archeron #the fawn #night court #acosf #acowar #acomaf #acofas #I just think we're 2 dimensional-izing Elain's personality when we say she doesn't belong in the night court

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julemmaes · 4 years ago

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What The

Prompt sent by @sayosdreams: Ezra goes on his first date

acotar next gen fan fiction

A/N: definitely not what I had planned for this prompt, but I’m not sad nor surprised. Ezra is 16, almost 17, Andra is 6 and the others don’t appear. But we’re introduced to Dara (MorxAndromache’s son) who is 16, Nia (AmrenxVarian’s daughter) who is 15, and Chelo (EmeriexAzriel’s second daughter) who is 6 and Fabien (FeyrexRhysand’s second son) who is 7 are mentioned.

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Word count: 6,692

Ezra didn't know he could be so embarrassed for someone else. And so scared for his own personal safety.

When Nia and Dara had told him they'd found him someone to go out with, he'd never expected the guy in question to be...well, like this.

Daniel was peculiar.

When he'd seen him arrive at the bus stop where they'd arranged to meet, Ezra had immediately felt a creepy feeling of unease, which had only increased out of all proportion when the boy whose last name he didn't even know yet had hugged him like his grandmother did every time they visited.

Ezra had stood motionless with his eyebrows pinned to his hairline for a full minute while the other one formally introduced himself, reaching out a hand toward him. He'd seen her nails polished a cheerful pastel blue and had smiled, trying to quell that wrong feeling in the back of his mind, "I like your nails."

Daniel had chuckled disturbingly - the sound still etched in Ezra's mind - and then made a very serious face, "It's to let others know I'm so gay."

The Navarro boy hadn't commented, not wanting to make an immediate bad impression with his date, but he'd found at least five ways to retort to that immense bullshit.

Daniel had linked their arms together and told him he'd take him to his favorite spot, and Ezra had been hesitant with all that physical touch. Not because he wasn't used to having someone around all the time touching him in one way or another, but because Daniel seemed like the kind of person who had no idea what boundaries were and he wasn't keen on being kissed out of the blue.

"So, what are you?" he had suddenly asked him.

Ezra had arched an eyebrow, confused, "What am I?"

"Yes, what are you silly," the other had chuckled. Silly? What the- "Gay, bi, pan?" Ezra had been dumbfounded, and he was sure that if Daniel hadn't been dragging him along, he would have gotten stuck in the middle of the sidewalk. He'd blinked a few times, trying to figure out why someone would ask such a thing for no apparent reason. When he'd still been silent, looking for an answer that wouldn't make him look like a complete idiot, Daniel had asked him again, giving him a light shove.

Erza had looked at him at that point, his expression somewhere between surprised and furious, "I don't know yet, I'm trying to figure it out."

"Oh, poor thing, I'm sure you'll understand after tonight." and again that creepy giggle, "I'll make sure this date makes you realize you're completely gay."

He hadn't told anyone he was going on a date that night, only his two best friends, and in that moment he couldn't have regretted his decision more.

He'd made up an excuse for his parents and Cassian and Nesta were now home chilling, probably doing what they did every Saturday night when they somehow managed to get rid of their kids, but Ezra just wanted to call his mom and get the hell out of that fast food.

He made a disgusted grimace, moving a chip with a handkerchief, too afraid that he would catch some kind of disease if he actually touched that food, when something under the table caught his attention. He opened his eyes wide when he realized it was a cockroach and had to suppress a gag.

"Are you okay, Ezzy?" Daniel asked him in a squeaky voice - Danny, as he'd asked him to call him when they'd arrived at the venue, "You look a little pale."

Ezra looked up at the boy, unsure whether to tell him for the tenth time that he hated that stupid nickname he'd stuck on him almost an hour ago or to let it go and try to enjoy the rest of the evening. Staring at the individual in front of him for a second too long, he gave him the most fake smile he could muster, replying simply, "Everything's fine." even if it was anything but fine. He certainly couldn't tell him that he never wanted to hear another word come out of his mouth, or that the place creeped him out so much that he was sure he'd have nightmares for the rest of his life. Or that the group of guys sitting at the table next to them looked at them so wrong every time he used the word gay that he wouldn't be surprised if they ended the night running away from them.

He'd done so many little things to make him uncomfortable that Ezra was wondering if he wasn't doing it on purpose, if he was on some kind of candid camera and if his friends would be coming out of the kitchen any minute, laughing at his misfortunes.

"That's good." resumed Daniel, then took a bite of his sandwich and some sauce, which should have been any other color but the one it was, fell on the table, "Anyway, back to what we were talking about before."

Ezra winced, closing his eyes and trying not to breathe in the awful smell of dirty water that hovered around the place. He didn't want to go back to the conversation from before. He wanted to run away.

"The first time I came out was when I was eight years old and everyone called me names, like I was telling you." Daniel nodded, continuing to chew with his mouth open, and Ezra could only avoid looking at him for a short time before the boy demanded they make eye contact. He'd explicitly asked him several times.

"Oh and then of course the first Gay Pride I went to was only a few years ago, because you know, they don't do any in Velaris and never will, duh." the boy said making an x with his fingers as he shook his head. Ezra chuckled at that gesture, more out of desperation than anything else, and Daniel seemed to take it as an invitation to continue, because he launched into a detailed description of his first time having "gay sex" with someone.

He shut his brain down, planting a tugged smile on his lips and hoping the torture would end soon.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out as Daniel said, "I kissed someone for the first time when I was ten, a boy of course." He jumped from topic to topic with such ease that Ezra struggled to keep up with him and was a little grateful for that.

It was a text from Nia asking him how the date was going and that she and Dara were at the latter's house, waiting for him to ask to pick him up. He typed a reply quickly, offending her in every way possible for putting him in such a situation and begging her to come as soon as possible. He turned off the screen, putting his phone back in his pocket and then leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and furrowing his brow as his brain perceived the words "blood" and "anal."

A not at all pleasant sensation began to blossom at the pit of his stomach.

He breathed through his nose deeply and regretted it soon after. If he hadn't ended up throwing up that night or dying, he would have given himself a weekend at a spa with the full package, sauna and all that crap and he would have forced Nia to pay for it. It was his friend's fault that he was now in this pathetic situation.

Ezra closed his eyes, trying to calm his thoughts and completely externalize himself from the outside world - something he'd learned to do on long trips to Illyria when his siblings decided to have a tantrum all at once. When Daniel didn't stop for another ten minutes and Ezra vaguely heard the word orgasm, he stood up abruptly, bringing his hands close to his ears in case he didn't stop talking.

Daniel brought one hand to his mouth and the other to his chest, startled by that sudden outburst from him.

"Ezzy..." he murmured, "what's wrong?"

Ezra clenched his hands into fists, closing his eyes. The feeling in the pit of his stomach was intensifying more and more, "Stop calling me that, please." then he stared into his eyes, leaning forward, "I asked you to stop two hours ago. Two hours."

Daniel stared at him open-mouthed, some chewed food was visible and Ezra was forced to turn away, trying to erase the image from his mind, but he heard it anyway when he asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

Ezra huffed out a laugh and the group of older boys, who had been watching them since they entered the fast food restaurant, stared at him with somber expressions, then shifted their gazes to Daniel. He brought his attention back to Daniel in turn and said in a low voice so that no one would hear him, "I'm sorry to have to tell you like this, but there won't be a second date and this one ends here."

He didn't even wait to see Daniel's reaction, grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He shivered in the cold of the city and looked around, lost. He had no idea where he was. He didn't know what part of town that fast food was in, and he couldn't understand how Nia knew the place existed. He walked down the main street, hoping to find something - a store, a bus stop, anything - that would help him figure out where he was.

He had just finished slipping on his jacket when he felt a hand tighten around his wrist and pull hard enough to make him stumble backwards. He didn't even realize he was falling until his back hit the ground and the air rushed out of his lungs so violently that it shocked him. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to catch his breath. Panic didn't have time to make its way through his body that someone was pulling him up by force.

Ezra kicked his feet in the air, looking around, unsure whether to scream for help and trying hard to free himself from the stranger's grasp, when he realized with horror that it was Daniel.

The all too cheerful and bright eyes that had characterized that basic little face until that moment, that had frightened but more than anything else bored Ezra to the point of exhaustion, now shone with a new emotion and he was petrified to realize that he looked like another person entirely. It was anger, pure rage in the boy's pupils.

"Daniel-" he tried to say to get him to let go.

Daniel was still clutching the front of his shirt and shook his head when he said his name, "I don't get it, what is it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side smiling, "You don't like to talk about me being gay because you haven't figured out what you are yet?"

What was wrong with this guy?

Ezra's eyes were wide and he couldn't speak. He was afraid Daniel would hit him.

After all, he didn't know him. He didn't know anything about the person in front of him other than the fact that the only trait in his personality was being gay. He hadn't been able to get anything personal out of him, nothing about what school he attended, nothing about his family, his hobbies.

A sheer, unmitigated terror made its way through his mind as he realized that Daniel could easily have been even much older than he said he was.

"Let me go." murmured Ezra, clasping his hands around his wrists. The only certainty he had at that moment was the fact that Daniel wouldn't be able to pull out any kind of sharp object to hurt him as long as he had his hands on Ezra.

Daniel wasn't that much bigger than him, he was a few inches shorter, but Ezra wasn't the kind of guy who would get into fights and win. No, he wasn't like his brother. He was more the type who got pushed into the fight and ended up with a broken nose because he didn't want to hurt the other guy.

The door to the fast food restaurant opened behind him and he tried hard to block out the shaking of his hands, of his lower lip. He couldn't take his eyes off Daniel's, too scared that if he even moved a finger, the other would snap.

"Everything okay out here?" someone asked, a deep, gravelly voice.

Daniel's eyes snapped over his shoulder and loosened their grip on his shirt. Ezra took the opportunity to push him away. Cursing, he fell backwards again, cushioning his fall with his hands and felt a sharp pain go up his arm. Hissing, he brought the limb to his chest, clutching it with his other hand.

Arms slipped under his shoulders, helping him pull himself up, "Here."

As soon as he was on his feet, Ezra took three steps back, moving away from both men in front of him.

He realized with no small amount of dread that the newcomer was one of the boys who had been watching them all evening. He cursed mentally this time, trying to think his way out of the fucked up situation.

How had he ended up there?

How had he ended up in the ugliest neighborhood in all of Velaris just because he wanted to go on a date?

Daniel was looking at the man now, much bigger and bulkier than the two of them combined, and Ezra heard a bicycle bell ring in the distance.

The heads of all three snapped toward the sound, but the only one who started running toward the two approaching figures was Ezra. He heard Daniel yell his name, but that only prompted him to run faster.

Nia was flailing around, swinging dangerously on her bike, and she didn't seem to notice the condition he was in, because she was smiling like a little girl on Christmas morning, but Dara was.

"Nia, come here." Ezra heard him say even at that distance. The girl must have heard something in her boyfriend's tone too, because she bolted beside him and got off her bike silently. Ezra continued to run at breakneck speed until he was in front of his best friends and got on the bike Nia had just left behind. He ordered them both to take off with short breaths and Dara to pedal as fast as he could before darting off down the road.

The boy in question waited until Nia was safely settled on the rack before turning the bike around and following Ezra down the half-lit street.

What the hell had just happened?

***

"I think we should call aunt Nesta," Nia said, with a grave expression.

Dara shook his head, reaching behind her and resting an arm on the back of the bench, starting to play with a strand of her hair, "She'll riot if she finds out what happened."

Nia looked at him frowning, "So you think we should handle it?"

Dara nodded, reducing his lips to a thin line.

"The us-handling-it ended with Ezra almost getting himself killed," she pointed out to him, "I think we've done enough for tonight."

"Speaking of," Ezra murmured. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, his eyes closed, convinced that if he opened them he'd start crying. "Where the fuck did you find someone like that?"

A shiver ran through his body and he didn't know if it was because of the memory of Daniel or because they insisted on spending their Saturday nights in the cold backyard of Dara's house.

Nia scratched the back of her neck, "A friend told me she had a friend who was busting her balls because he's been single for too long and he reminded me of someone." she gave him a pointed look and shrugged, "I didn't think he'd be a psycho."

Dara chuckled tiredly and Ezra lifted his head to look at him, "Why are you laughing, that was terrifying." he repeated for the billionth time. "I don't think I'll ever date again."

"Actually as a first date it kinda sucked," mumbled the girl yawning. Erza knew they were both dead tired and it wouldn't make any difference if he stayed over at his aunt Mor's or went back to his house, either way he would find himself alone in a bed. He might as well avoid a sleepless night because of Nia's snoring.

Truth be told, he would have preferred to be cuddled by his sisters, but he would never admit that out loud.

He opened and closed the fingers of his left hand, wincing every time the cut on his wrist joint moved.

Nia was watching him closely, "You should probably disinfect that."

Ezra huffed, closing his eyes and scratching his eyebrow, "I'll do it when I get home."

"Do you want me to call your mother?" she offered, understanding immediately. Dara nodded beside her.

He thought about it and then shook his head, getting up and picking up the phone, "If you call her she'll think I'm dead or something bad happened - which is true," he nodded, dialing Nesta's number, and bringing the device to his ear, "but she doesn't need to know over the phone."

She answered on the first third ring.

"Ezra? What's wrong?" she asked with bated breath.

The boy grimaced, immediately realizing he had interrupted something, and Dara burst out laughing. By now it was common knowledge what his parents did every Saturday night. Even Dara's moms had their Wednesdays after all.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," he narrowed his eyes, wrinkling his nose, "but, is there any way you could pick me up?"

Nesta didn't answer right away, but Ezra clearly heard the shifting of the sheets and the uncertain movements on the other side of the line and his father asked worriedly, "What happened?"

"I don't know-" Nesta answered him in a muffled voice, then more clearly, "Ezra everything alright? Are you okay?" anxiety lacing her words.

Fuck, this was exactly what he wanted to avoid. Making his parents worry about things that could easily be avoided was perhaps the thing he hated most in the world.

Casting a quick glance at his friends, he replied, "You know what, nothing, nevermind, I'll stay here and be back in the morning, don't worry about it." he tried to fake a smile, even though his mother couldn't see it and Dara scoffed, standing up and nearly knocking over Nia who was leaning on his shoulder, "Pass it to me." he murmured.

Ezra pulled away, reaching an arm out to his friend to hold him back as Dara smiled and reached for his phone.

"Where are you now?" asked Nesta urgently. More frantic movement on the other end of the phone, "I've got you on speaker."

Ezra grunted when Dara jabbed a finger into his ribs, "At aunt Mor's." he let out a giggle when he escaped his friend and started running around the garden, "But don't worry, I'm here with Dara and Nia, I'll be back tomorrow."

"Love, you never called me to pick you up in sixteen years of living," the woman pointed out to him. She heard her father agree with her as he warned her that he would wait for her in the car, "Even if nothing happened, something has to have and I don't want to put unnecessary burdens on Mor or Em. We're on our way." Ezra was about to retort when the beep beep of the call being closed rumbled through the phone.

The boy huffed, stopping his run abruptly, and Dara slammed into him, nearly knocking them both over. They burst out laughing as they pushed and pulled in a non-violent fight.

As they fell on top of each other, starting to tickle each other, Nia snickered from the porch, leaning against the railing, "How nice it is to have a boyfriend who has a boyfriend."

"You love us." both boys shouted, opening their eyes and mouths wide and looking at each other immediately after, "Aah, twins." they said again simultaneously. They burst out laughing and Nia ran a hand over her face, warning them that she was going into the house.

Dara stood up at that point, pushing Ezra away, but he helped him up anyway and they silently joined her, trying not to wake Mor and Emerie who were resting on the couch undisturbed. His friend asked him to warn his mother not to ring the bell, so that she wouldn't wake up his moms, and Ezra smiled and nodded.

Dara was the only child of aunts Mor and Em. He was only a few months younger than Ezra, but had been adopted when he was already two years old. Of course, none of the three could remember a day without the other two, and although Dara and Nia had been together for a few months now - after years and years of banter - the dynamics of the group had never changed.

Although Nia had become a little more possessive now where Dara was concerned, it was never really about jealousy. Ezra was just scared when she took on that stern expression that also characterized her mother Amren and threatened him with death when he accidentally hurt Dara during one of their friendly fights.

They entered the bedroom and Nia was already sprawled out on the mattress like a starfish. A soft snoring sounded in the room and Ezra shook his head, "How is she already asleep?"

Dara didn't answer him, but smiled slightly, looking at the shapeless mass of hair that hid the girl's face. He walked over to the bed, grabbing a blanket from the chair and trying to cover her entirely, but from the position she was in, an arm or leg would always be exposed to the chill air.

Ezra felt his heart tighten in his chest, "You're lucky." he whispered.

Dara snorted, looking up at him with a curled brow, "Don't go soft on me, you know we'll both start crying then." then he turned back to Nia, moving her hair out of her face, "It's also after eleven, if we start talking about this stuff I could seriously cry." an even wider smile made its way onto his lips and a twin one appeared on Ezra's. Plus, if Nia woke up with both of them crying, she wasn't going to let them live it down.

Dara and Nia had come before Cal and Nora, before Nate, Theo, and everyone else. Ezra didn't know what it would be like without them, and he never wanted to find out.

"You know, though, yeah," Dara whispered once they had settled into the bean bag chairs, "we're lucky."

Ezra looked into his eyes, yawning, "Do you think my mom will let me go to sleep without an interrogation?"

Dara grinned, "Are we talking about the same Nesta who kept us up an entire night just because she kept losing at UNO?" he reminded him of that deadly night a few years earlier, "Because I'm sure that a person who is willing to keep three whining babies awake just to win at a stupid game isn't going to let something that relevant go until they get their revenge."

Ezra groaned, closing his eyes, "I don't even know how to approach the subject."

"What part?" Dara then asked, watching him closely, "That you also like boys or that one guy almost smashed your face."

"Not helping." he deadpanned.

"No, but seriously," he pulled his legs up, crossing them underneath him, "I know your whole-" he moved a hand in midair, pointing to Ezra's head, "thinking and I don't want to make you more anxious than you need to be, but what if they don't react like you always thought they would?"

Ezra had thought about this countless times, about how his parents might react to such an admission, but the outcome had never bothered him much. He didn't really conceive the concept of coming out when you were growing up in a family like his. He didn't like the idea of having to specify to his parents that one day he might bring home someone who wasn't a woman.

One of his father's closest friends was a lesbian and her son was sitting across from him. If his parents had any objections to that, they would certainly have told him or talked about it.

He was sure it wouldn't have sparked any reaction in his parents.

"It'll be fine." said Ezra only.

"Definitely." Dara dropped his head back, "So how do you plan to introduce the I-went-out-with-a-crazy-man instead?"

Ezra shook his head, "I don't?"

"I'm serious." the other replied, closing his eyes.

"So am I."

They remained silent, Dara surely having realized Ezra didn't want to talk about Daniel anymore.

"What are you planning on doing for Valentine's Day?" he asked suddenly.

Dara chuckled, "I have a girlfriend now man, we can't go out anymore, you and I."

"You dumbass," Ezra insulted him, "I meant with Nia. Where are you taking her?"

Dara pulled himself up, stretching his arms overhead. The boy couldn't sit still for half a minute. "Actually I think she wants to take me somewhere and I'll let her," he nodded thoughtfully, "Although I'm kind of terrified she's going to take me into the woods and kill me, I'm going to activate the location on my phone so you'll always know where I am."

Ezra didn't laugh, he just nodded. The phone vibrated in his hand and his stomach twisted again.

"We're out." the message from his mother read.

He looked up at Dara and found his friend watching him, who gave him an encouraging smile.

They bid each other goonight with their secret handshake and then Ezra walked out of the room just as Dara lifted Nia and tucked her under the covers, laying down next to her.

***

"Are you going to tell us what's going on or are we going to have to guess?" asked Cassian looking over his shoulder once he was in the car.

They were already halfway home and Ezra had only said hello to them, in a very controlled tone of voice, but his mother had tossed back in her seat and stared into his eyes for what had seemed like hours before shifting her gaze to her husband and saying, "Yeah, something happened."

She had watched him for so long that he couldn't understand how she hadn't seen the bloodstain on his sweatshirt. He pulled up the zipper on his jacket, already thinking about how he could remove the stain from the fabric.

"Can we talk about this tomorrow?" he tried to ask. He was looking out the window, but he could feel both his parents' eyes on him.

"Can you sleep if you don't talk about it, or are you going to be up all night?" asked Cassian again, "Because if it's the latter, I'd rather talk about it now."

Ezra closed his eyes, thinking about what to answer. "Is Andra home?" he asked softly.

Nesta nodded, "She's been asleep for a couple of hours though. She's been playing all day with Fabien and Chelo and was dead tired." she said in a chipper tone, "How come?"

"I'm taking her to my room." he replied only.

His mother turned to him again, this time with a lopsided smile on her face, "It's not like she's a dog."

"Yeah, I know," he smiled back, "but at least I'll sleep better."

"Alright, we'll talk about it tomorrow though," Nesta told him. He merely nodded.

Not even two minutes passed and Cassian asked, "Did you have a fight with Dara?"

Ezra nearly burst out laughing, "No, Dad."

"With Nia?"

"Cass." his mom admonished him.

The man turned to her with a mock confused expression, "What?"

"He told us he'd talk about it tomorrow, stop it."

Cassian huffed, "Fine."

As soon as they arrived home, Ezra said goodnight to both of them and went straight to his room. He slipped off his jacket and got into his pajama pants, grabbing his shirt and heading to the bathroom to try and clean his sweatshirt as best he could.

He remained shirtless as he searched the drawers for cotton wool and wound sanitizer. He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as he spilled some of the liquid on his cut. It wasn't too long or deep, but it had bled him quite a bit, especially considering he hadn't stopped moving his hand half a second, preventing the skin from healing.

He'd definitely done it to himself when he got free of Daniel, but he hadn't realized he'd hurt himself that badly until he'd gotten to Dara's house and Nia had seen the red stain on his sweatshirt. He cleaned the cut from the dried blood, changing cotton balls after the first one had turned completely red.

He turned on the water, running his entire forearm under it, when the bathroom door opened and his mother's head popped into view. At any other time he would have told her that she had to knock before entering their bathroom, that he might be naked, but upon seeing the color drain from her face, he remained silent.

He turned off the faucet, cupping his hand over his wrist as Nesta entered the bathroom and stared in pure terror at the cotton wool and blood on the sink. He hadn't seen his mother so scared since the day he'd broken his arm.

"Mom..." whispered Ezra, stepping forward, toward her.

"What happened?" she asked bringing a hand to her throat. Then she looked into his eyes, "Did you do it yourself?"

Ezra frowned, confused. Then the shock of what his mother's newly spoken words implied hit him and he shook his head, wincing. "No, god- no mom. I-"

Nesta moved until she was in front of him and gently took his arm, moving his hand from his wrist until she saw the cut and sighed. Whether in relief or otherwise, Ezra didn't know.

"You need to tell me what's going on, and no, you can't go to bed without telling me what you did tonight first," she murmured to him, without looking at his face. She had taken another piece of cotton and was dabbing at his wrist with the gentleness that only a mother with her children could have, checking for soil residue or anything else.

"Nesta?"

Ezra winced when he heard his father's voice calling to her.

Mom looked him in the eye, tossing the wadded up bits, "If you promise me that as soon as you get out of here you'll come talk to us, I'll go out now and let you get ready for the night in peace." she told him.

She was looking at him with so much emotion that Ezra regretted even thinking about lying to her and telling her he just fell off his bike. Besides, if it had been about something so stupid, he would have told her right away and she knew it. So, lowering his gaze to the floor, he nodded, "I promise."

Stepping out, she picked up the clothes Ezra had left on the floor and then he was alone again. He brushed his teeth, thinking about how to deal with this. He grabbed a band-aid from Celia's locker - she used more than anyone else put together because of soccer - and then slipped on his pajama shirt, leaving the bathroom and heading for his parents' room. Halfway down the hallway he turned around and stopped with his hand on the doorknob of his room. He closed his eyes, smacking his forehead against the wood, "Let's do this."

He didn't have time to knock that his parents' door opened and Cassian looked at him differently than he always did, looked at him like he was trying to read his mind. Ezra felt himself blush for the first time in a long time and shifted his gaze to his mother, who was sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling at him.

Ezra slipped into the room, sitting down at the end of the bed. Nesta settled against the bedpost and Cassian sat down, facing the wall. He couldn't see his father's face, but he sensed his concern as waves radiated from his body.

"I had a date tonight." mumbled Ezra playing with the blanket, but keeping his eyes on his mother.

Nesta opened her mouth slightly wide in surprise, then closed it again, composing herself, "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I don't know," he confessed.

"How did it go?" asked Cassian, turning to face him.

Ezra scratched his head, "Bad."

"I'm sorry." his mother told him with as much sincerity in her voice as she could muster. Then she cast a quick glance at his dad and Ezra took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come. "How did it get so bad?"

"The other one wasn't exactly sane," he said, brushing the patch with his fingers.

Cassian stiffened and flexed his fingers several times, "Did she do anything to you?"

Ezra felt his heart start to beat a little faster, "He was-" then he stopped, looking at his parents. Neither Nesta nor Cassian seemed the least bit touched by what he'd just said. "He was peculiar."

They waited for him to speak, giving him time to process.

"He immediately started touching me and normally-"

His father interrupted him, "Touching you?" he asked in a low voice.

Ezra had never heard that tone of voice before. He had never seen Cassian's eyes grow so dark, his jaw so taut. Everything in the man's body screamed anger. His mother had pulled herself up straighter and extended a hand toward her husband, as if she needed physical support to deal with such a conversation.

He was quick to specify, "Hugs, he was always trying to find a way to touch my hands, my face, and normally it wouldn't bother me, but it was the first time I'd seen him and god, I don't even know his fucking last name." he didn't bother not to say the bad word. He knew his mother didn't care right then and he needed to vent. Cassian nodded and while Nesta seemed to have relaxed a bit, his father hadn't lost that feeling of hatred that was rippling across his face.

"He talked the whole time about things purely related to the fact that he was gay and he went into detail." he said with wide eyes, "And he demanded that we look at each other while he talked and that made me uncomfortable in no small part and the place he took me to." he shuddered, "It looked like something out of one of those TV shows that Celia always watches about houses full of trash."

Nesta crossed her arms over her chest, with a worried gaze, "Why didn't you call me? I would have come right away."

Ezra looked at her, shaking his head, "I thought about it, but I had arranged with Nia and Dara that they would pick me up with their bikes and I texted Nia and-"

He paused to catch his breath.

"As soon as he said the word orgasm I got up and told him I didn't want to see him anymore and left."

Cassian nodded, "You did the right thing." he told him resting a hand on his ankle, "With these people you never know what can happen-"

Nesta interrupted him, "How did you get the cut?"

His dad frowned and turned to her, but Nesta was just watching Ezra as she bit her lip, growing more and more agitated.

He closed his eyes, sighing, "I fell."

"Yeah, but how?"

He remained silent, trying to find a way to tell the story from the beginning without his parents losing years of their lives before he could finish telling.

"Ezra." his father murmured, tightening his grip on his ankle.

He took a deep breath and tried to say it all at once before they could interrupt him, fixing his eyes on the seams of his pajamas, "He followed me outside and grabbed my arm, but I fell backwards. He grabbed me by my jacket and when I managed to get free again I must have fallen on a rock or something sharp because I hurt my hand." his voice was shaking at the end of the sentence and he hadn't realized how striking it had actually been for him. "Some guy came out of the fast food restaurant and distracted Daniel and I ran. I found Nia and Dara on their bikes and we rode home." then he wrinkled his brow, "I've already blocked his number and his every social account." he added under his breath. When he looked up at his parents, he felt tremendous guilt. Nesta had a hand over her mouth and her eyes slightly glazed over. He could see all kinds of emotions battling there: anger, apprehension, panic, worry. He could see how much it was costing her not to leave that house and go find Daniel on her own.

Cassian had sprung to his feet and was now pacing back and forth between the closet and the bathroom, hands crossed behind his head as he took deep breaths.

Ezra didn't know what to do. They had broached the subject of relationships many times before, there was no reason why they should have to explain to him why everything that had happened was wrong and that it wasn't normal, that it wasn't his fault. He knew.

"Are you okay?" his mom asked him.

He nodded, "I didn't want to tell you tonight because we're all tired, tomorrow morning would have been better." then he shifted his gaze to his dad, "I'm sorry, dad."

Cassian froze, letting go of a trembling breath as he shook his head. He sat down next to his son, wrapping his arms around him and holding him to his chest. Ezra melted into the embrace, wrapping his arms around him in turn.

"You don't have to apologize for anything," he murmured to him. He pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. Then he shook his head again, "I'm sorry you didn't tell us about the date and I'd appreciate it if in the future you would."

"Yeah," Nesta indulged him, moving around on the mattress until she was next to them and could place a hand on his face, "we don't care who you go out with, but at least know where you're going so that if something happens we know where to come get you."

Ezra nodded.

Then Nesta opened her arms and he released herself from his father's grasp to find comfort in his mom's.

"I'm sorry, love." she whispered to him.

Ezra shrugged, saying in a muffled voice, "Don't worry, I'm fine."

And he was indeed fine.

He felt his father's hand caressing his back and they stayed there for a while longer, while Nesta and Cassian exchanged a look full of emotions and worries, but also of relief because the evening could have ended in a completely different way.

It wasn't until the next day that they would ask him if he wanted to press charges and how it would all play out should he decide to continue, only after they had talked about it a whole night between the two of them.

In the meantime, Ezra would come out of their room after saying goodnight to them for the second time and crawl into Andra's bed, where the little sister would immediately attach herself like an octopus to his neck and where they would fall asleep peacefully hugging.

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#nessian #TSOU nessian fic #TSOU #the seven of us #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf #acotar next gen #acotar fic #nessian fic #nessian angst #family angst #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of silver flames #nessian child #nessian children #nessian baby

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perseusannabeth · 5 years ago

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Bottled Up Storms - Chapter 1

So this is something I started writing thanks to a prompt I received (shout out to the anon who sent me that). I’m sorry that this has taken me so long to write, but my job has been kicking my arse so I haven’t had much time to write. I originally was going to write this as a one shot but lmao oops it turned out a little too long and I have too many ideas so now it’ll be a multi-chapter fic.

This is a pregnancy fic for Nessian. I don’t really know much about being pregnant so everything is from google so I’m sorry if I get stuff wrong. I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you want to be added to my tags list!

Description: Nesta and Cassian have been living in the Illyrian mountains for some months now, and they had it all figured out. They mostly ignored each other, and seemed to be getting by. However, after one drunken night together, they must deal with the consequences of what they have created together, both the new life they created, and the lives they have created for themselves.

This is also posted on AO3

Word count: 4511

They didn’t talk about the fact that they’d had sex. It was a one-time thing, and something not to be repeated as far as they were both concerned. They had both been drunk and they needed to feel something. There had been tension lingering around them ever since Nesta had been ordered to go with Cassian to Illyria. The tension was normal around the two of them, it had been there ever since they had first met, which felt like a lifetime ago. The tension had built until it was going to burst. That’s what had happened that drunken night.

Nesta found she was fine not talking about what had happened between them. She didn’t want to talk about the mind-blowing sex, the way Cassian had looked at her like she was his world, the way he had held her after, how it had made her feel calm and safe, the way she’d had the best nights sleep since Gods know when, the way she had woken up to him staring at her with such love and wonder that she couldn’t breathe. Cassian hadn’t spoken about it either. He had just watched her as she left his room. The weight of his gaze nowadays was suffocating but different reasons. Now it was heavy with the memories of that night, of what they could be if she wasn’t so broken, and if she hadn’t been such a coward and left.

Nesta was content to go about her life at the blasted camp her sister had dumped her at, barely seeing Cassian. She carried on with her routine of going to see Emerie in the shop. She would help if she needed it, but Emerie so rarely had customers that she did things herself just so she could keep busy. After spending a few hours with Emerie, sometimes talking and sometimes sitting in comfortable silence, she would wander around the camp, sometimes watching the training of the women, sometimes tiring and going to the cabin she shared with Cassian and reading one of her books.

Very occasionally, Nesta would wander down to the healer’s tent and help them. She worked in silence, just doing as she was told, but the work was good for tiring her out and keeping her hands and mind busy. It made her feel useful, something she had not felt in a long time, maybe not ever.

She hadn’t felt the need to drink herself into oblivion like she had done most nights in Velaris. Maybe the distance had helped, but Nesta still couldn’t bring herself to thank her sister for sending her away. Even when she and Cassian had… made their mistake that night, she wasn’t anywhere near as drunk as she could’ve been. She just pretended she was after it had happened so that Cassian wouldn’t talk to her about it. She was eating too, although that was a bit more hit and miss. She was shocked to find that the alcohol she could easily leave, but the punishing her body, the not eating, that was harder to do. Still, she was making progress and eating something is better than nothing. Her lack of drinking meant she was throwing up less, meaning she was slowly starting to look healthier. Her nightmares did cause her to throw up though, so the food didn’t always stay down. She still couldn’t make much of a dent in the food that Cassian plated up for her, but she still felt a small amount of pride for eating what she did.

Which is why she was confused. She was being sick in the morning, despite the fact she hadn’t drank any alcohol since that night with Cassian. She wouldn’t even have it with her meal, just in case her control slipped. The alcohol made her too free, which was dangerous around Cassian.

This was the third morning in a row now, where Nesta had been sick. At first, she had thought it was food poisoning, but Cassian was fine and he always cooked for both of them. Plus, she had felt better later on in the day. She had gone to the healers who told her she wasn’t ill. They had offered to check her over more extensively, but Nesta refused, hoping whatever it was would go away.

It hadn’t. Because of course, of course, things could never be that easy for Nesta. This morning was particularly bad. She was sat on the floor in the bathroom and had been for the past half an hour. She didn’t want to risk getting up because every time she did, she felt sick again. Cassian was (thank the cauldron) at his morning training session, and wouldn’t be back until dinner. She had the cabin to herself for the day to deal with whatever this was.

She decided to move to the sink to rinse her mouth out with water. She didn’t want to risk going into the kitchen to get a glass, just in case she was sick again. As she stood up, her body protested, and her stomach churned. Nesta took a deep breath in the hopes it would calm her stomach, but she had no such luck as she once again leaned over the toilet bowl, slowly sinking to her knees again as she retched again.

Nesta always prided herself on being well aware of her surroundings. However, while she was being sick, she didn’t notice Cassian coming back into the cabin. Nor did she hear his footsteps getting closer and closer as he followed the noises she was making.

Cassian stood in the doorway of the bathroom and stared at Nesta who had now stopped being sick and was leaning against the bathtub, panting. Nesta glared at him, but without as much heat as she would’ve liked, exhausted from throwing up for half an hour.

“Are you alright?” Cassian asked, seeming to break himself out of whatever was going on in his head.

“Do I look alright to you?” Nesta bit back, taking deep breaths as her stomach churned again. She closed her eyes, willing her stomach to settle, hoping that the cool feeling of the bathtub against her would help.

“A little too much fun last night?”

“Yes, it was a joy, sitting in my room all night, reading my book until I fall asleep, not having to be around you,” Nesta replied, angry that he would imply she had been drinking.

He seemed thrown by that. They both knew that she wouldn’t lie about the drinking, she had never felt the need to before. She wasn’t ashamed of her chosen coping habit, it wasn’t hurting anyone else, just herself. It shouldn’t bother everyone as much as it does, but if they choose to worry about her drinking habit then that’s on them, she didn’t care. Or so she would keep telling herself.

“I… are you saying you haven’t been drinking?” Cassian asked, unable to keep the shock out of his voice.

“I haven’t drank any alcohol since-” she cut herself off, unable to say that she hadn’t touched alcohol since that night they had shared.

Thankfully, Cassian seemed to realise what she was about to say and just cleared his throat awkwardly and gave her a small nod. “Okay then, shall I get a healer?”

“No, I’ll go down myself, I’m fine now anyway.” Nesta tried to slowly move, but it was no use. Her stomach churned again as she turned quickly to the toilet before being sick again.

Nesta’s whole body shook as she was sick, she could feel her energy draining with each time she heaved, her nose and mouth, filling with the acidic smell and taste of her vomit. She couldn’t believe she was vomiting this much, not when she didn’t think she had this much lining her stomach to even get rid of in the first place. She felt a warm hand slowly rub her back as she threw up, so softly it hurt her heart.

Eventually, her body stopped, perhaps running out of things to force out of her, although Nesta was not very hopeful. Her body was clearly punishing her for all the havoc she had caused when she was drinking her meals. She leaned back against the bathtub once again, Cassian’s hand still so soft and warm on her back. She could feel the liquid around her nose, mouth and the tears that had escaped as she had been sick leaving marks down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, wishing Cassian was anywhere but here, wishing he wasn’t seeing her like this.

Perhaps Nesta’s wishes come true quickly, but perhaps that’s only true when her wish is something that will hurt her. Cassian slowly stood up and left her in the bathroom. He returned briefly with a glass of water and some tissues to try and clean her face up as best he could. She would have stopped him, and his soft movements as he wiped her face, but she didn’t have the energy to stop him, to yell, to be a bitch and push him away. Not right now. But maybe she could do it without even trying because she closed her eyes and felt him leave, and heard the front door open and shut, and the cabin was once again was empty.

Nesta sat on the floor for what felt like an age. Time seemed to pass differently when you’ve been sick all morning. She waited until she started feeling a bit better, her legs not feeling as weak or shaky, her stomach settling down slightly, her nose stopped stinging, her eyes stopped watering. She slowly moved herself to stand up, trying to keep her movements as smooth and slow as possible, in the hopes it wouldn’t make her sick again.

Her limbs felt too heavy for her, her body exhausted from being sick. She didn’t have the energy to deal with people, she didn’t want to speak to anyone or see anyone. She wanted to sleep. Even though she was sleeping better than she had been, her sleep was interrupted, bitty, and more like she was taking several naps at night rather than getting proper rest. She didn’t bother undressing or undoing her braided hair. She simply walked over to her bed and collapsed, feeling grateful that her room wasn’t far from the bathroom.

She closed her eyes but knew that despite the exhaustion her body was feeling, her mind would not let her sleep. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about Cassian’s hand on her back. It was the first time he had touched her since that night. It hurt, that he didn’t want to touch her again unless he had to, but she understood. Things were so messy between the two of them, they needed space between them. Nesta couldn’t think when she was near Cassian, and when he touched her it felt like he had lit a fuse. She was sure that if she hadn’t been otherwise occupied when he had touched her, she would’ve reacted differently. She was glad that she hadn’t since she had been embarrassed enough for one day.

Cassian clearly felt she hadn’t been embarrassed enough, however, because he returned, and she could clearly hear the voice of another person with him. She recognised the voice of the healers from the tent that she helped out in. Their footsteps grew closer, and Nesta, in her panic, decided that she would pretend to be asleep.

“Oh,” was all that Cassian said as he opened the door and saw her fully dressed and asleep on top of her covers. She had been so exhausted that she couldn’t even muster the energy to get under them before they had arrived. “Shall I wake her?”

“It’s okay general, you can go and wait elsewhere. I will wake her up and speak to her,” there was silence, Cassian not moving away like he had been told to. Eventually, he let out a small sigh and walked away into their shared living space as the healer shut the door behind him.

“You can stop pretending to be asleep now. You may have fooled the general but that won’t work on me.”

Nesta slowly opened her eyes and looked at the healer. She was short, with dark brown hair, tied in a neat bun. Her wings were clipped, but she seemed to carry herself in a way that suggested she was fairly old even for fae standards, and she wore the typical healers uniform, which was immaculate. In fact, everything about this woman was immaculate, which put Nesta on edge even on a normal day. After three days of being sick every morning, Nesta wanted nothing more to hide under her blanket. She did not give in to her urge to hide, however, and slowly sat up on her bed, hoping not to make the queasy feeling turn into something more again.

“I know we’ve seen each other around the tent, but I’ve never had a chance to speak to you before. I’m Theodora. I heard you were throwing up this morning? Is this the first time you’ve done that?” As she asked the questions, Theodora set her bag down on the foot of the bed and started rifling through it and putting things onto the bed.

“I’m Nesta. And no, this is now the third day this has been happening. It seemed to calm down yesterday afternoon so I hoped that it was just a stomach bug that had passed.”

Theodora looked up at her in surprise. “Three days?”

“Yes although I have been feeling a bit queasy for much longer than that, I just learnt to ignore it.”

“Hmm okay, and how long have you been noticing my queasiness?” Nesta paused, unsure if she should divulge all her secrets with the healer, in case she told Cassian or anyone what she had been suffering recently. As if able to sense her worries, Theodora added, “Nothing you say will be shared with anyone else without your permission.”

Slightly comforted that if someone was to find out at least she would have warning, Nesta decided to share her troubles. “I’ve been feeling sick ever since my last period.”

“How long ago was that?”

“It was supposed to be 2 weeks ago, but it never came. That isn’t unusual though. I’ve put my body through a lot, my periods are never predictable.”

Theodora pursed her lips and nodded to indicate she was listening as she looked through her healer’s bag once more, a small frown on her face. When she found what she was looking for, she inspected it, before looking up at Nesta.

“This is a routine question I ask every female, so please don’t get offended, but is there any chance you could be pregnant? Just so I can choose my treatment method correctly.”

Nesta froze. Pregnant? Surely not. Fae pregnancies were difficult and rare, she knew that. With what Nesta had been putting her body through before coming to Illyria, she wasn’t even sure she could do that right now. There was no way she could be pregnant, could she? But then a flash of blurry memory hit her, stumbling into Cassian’s room, the desperation, ripping each other’s clothes off and “oh fuck could I be pregnant?”

“I, erm, I don’t know,” was all she could stutter in a small voice, her throat constricting, making it difficult for her not to cry. She didn’t know for sure, but she suddenly had a very bad feeling about all of this.

“Right then, we will do a pregnancy test first in that case. I’ll just go get you some water because I’ll need a urine sample to find out for sure,” Theodora smiled at her before walking off towards the kitchen.

Nesta remained frozen on the bed, staring at the open door. She could hear Cassian speaking to the healer, but she couldn’t focus on what was being said, she couldn’t focus on anything. She was pregnant, she knew it as soon as Theodora has asked. This was just another way to punish her. It was probably that damned cauldron’s idea of a joke. Of course, she would get pregnant after the one time she slept with her ma- with Cassian. It was like the cauldron could tell that she would run, avoid him, push him away. But if she was pregnant with his child, then she couldn’t do that. Nesta would need him, would want him to be involved if she had his child.

Before she could go even further into her thought spiral, Theodora came back with a large glass of water, which she handed to Nesta as she shut the door again.

“The general tried to ask me questions, but don’t worry, I put him in his place and told him it was up to you to share any details with him,” Theodora said in a matter of fact tone.

Nesta couldn’t reply, so she simply gave a small nod of acknowledgement and started drinking her water. Once she had finished the entire glass, she put it on her bedside table and finally drew the courage to look at the healer who was now seated on the other end of her bed.

“What happens if I am?” Nesta couldn’t bring herself to say that word out loud yet.

“Then you have options. You don’t have to keep it. But if you decide you do then we can help you learn more.” There was no judgement in Theodora’s voice. Just soft, kind words, letting Nesta take control of a situation which already felt too out of control.

“What happens if I don’t want it.” Nesta could only whisper the question, looking down at her hands to avoid looking at the kind woman sat in front of her. She didn’t feel like she deserved the kindness, but right now she didn’t have the energy to stop her from being so kind.

“Then that is your decision. We would tell you about the process, what we do, how it works. In the end, it would just be like heavy bleeding, nothing more.”

“I thought that fae pregnancies were…” Nesta trailed off, not knowing what she was going to say. Her mind was spinning with so many thoughts, she could barely think straight.

“They are very rare, and when people want to be pregnant, then it is considered very blessed. But not everyone wants to keep that child. Not everyone’s circumstances are happy or healthy. Not everyone can afford to have that child. There are so many factors in pregnancies, not just someone putting their penis in a vagina.”

At the impassioned speech from Theodora, Nesta looked up to see something she couldn’t quite name painted across the healer’s face. All Nesta knew was that she felt understood. She felt unjudged and knew Theodora was not pitying her or the situation she was in. That helped calm the thoughts spinning around in her head.

"I don't know what I want." Nesta looked down at her hands which were folded in her lap as she finally admit out loud what she had felt since she had emerged from that cursed cauldron. Before that, when she was human, things were simple enough. Her ambitions were simply to marry someone so she could live comfortably. As a woman, Nesta was well aware that she needed someone to look after her and provide her. That was not the case for her in this new Fae world, the possibilities seemed endless for Nesta. However, Nesta felt overwhelmed with the amount of freedom she had suddenly gained in this new world, she had no idea what to do with it.

"You have some time. Think about it. It's early days yet. Finding out you're pregnant is always a shock, it can take some time to come to terms with that. There are other options too. Many Fae can't have children, so there's always the idea of adoption. Many loving parents would happily raise your child if you are not able to. You can choose to be involved if you want to, or not at all. The possibilities are endless." Theodora started packing her things away, not looking at Nesta as she spoke, which Nesta was grateful for.

"I... thank you."

"You're welcome. If you need someone to talk to, just know that I will all always be kept confidential. Even the high lord and lady could not make me break my oath to the people I serve. You know where to find me if you need me Nesta." Nesta gave a small nod, still not able to look up at the healer.

“Do you need the bathroom yet?” Nesta thought for a second and then nodded. Theodora handed her a vial and instructed her to try and gather as much urine into the vial as possible, which seemed disgusting but Nesta went to the bathroom to do as she had been told.

She came back and handed the vial to Theodora, cringing as she did. Nesta sat back down on the bed as she watched Theodora put a leaf, which she had kept out of her bags into her urine sample. The leaf floated and started to shrivel up as soon as it was emerged in the urine, turning a funny orange colour with little brown splotches on it.

“What does that mean?” Nesta whispered, not being able to look away from the leaf.

“It means that you’re pregnant my dear.” There was a short silence, as though Theodora was waiting for Nesta to say something, but when she didn't Theodora spoke again, breaking the awkward silence. "I will prepare the herbs you will need to drink in your morning tea and send them along to you. If you drink the tea from the herbs every morning, it should help with your morning sickness. If it persists despite the tea then let me know."

"Thank you," Nesta murmured again, as though unable to think of what else to say in the face of such kindness from a virtual stranger, still trying to process what she had just been told, that her suspicions were correct. Theodora simply nodded and left the cottage, not even glancing at Cassian as she left.

Cassian walked up to Nesta's room after Theodora left, leaning on the door frame and looked at Nesta's pale face as she stared at her hands, but not really seeing anything. It seemed Nesta was miles away, so he cleared his throat in order to get her attention.

"Is everything alright?" His eyes looking over her body for signs of an injury, as though there would be something he could see on her body causing her to be unwell.

"I'm fine," Nesta said, looking up at Cassian finally. He was trying to look casual, as though there was nothing going on, but Nesta could see the tension he was holding in his shoulders. He was worried about her. The realisation came with a large amount of shock. She couldn't quite believe that he was worried about her. Perhaps her shock got the better of her because before she could stop herself, she blurted out "I'm pregnant."

Nesta's eyes widened as she cursed herself internally for not being able to keep her mouth shut. She looked up to see Cassian, to see he had frozen in shock, his eyes wide, staring at Nesta. Nesta could feel her heart beating in her chest, the tears starting to fill her eyes as Cassian said nothing, and just stared at her with different emotions flitting across his face, too quickly for her to guess what they might mean.

"I... who? Is it... am I?" Cassian eventually managed to choke out, his eyes drifting to her stomach almost unconsciously.

"It," Nesta paused, wondering if she should lie, not tell Cassian he was the father, wondering if she could somehow take all of it back. But she knew she couldn't when she saw Cassian looking at her flat stomach. His expression had finally settled on something, and that was hope. Nesta knew after spending time in the Illyrian camps, that Cassian's childhood had been terrible. She knew that Cassian would never, not in a million lifetimes, abandon this baby. "It's yours." She whispered, a tear managing to escape her eye. She quickly wiped it, but knew that it hadn't gone unnoticed. Nothing Nesta did ever went unnoticed where Cassian was concerned.

"Do you want it?" Cassian asked softly. She knew that he would never begrudge her if she wanted to get rid of the baby. She could see, and she knew, that Cassian would love this baby with everything he had, but if Nesta decided she didn't want this baby, he would never hold it against her, and never stop her from getting rid of it. If she allowed him to, she knew he would be with her every step of the way for that too, even if it broke his heart.

"I don't know." She closed her eyes, hoping that it would stop any more tears from escaping.

"I'll stand by you, whatever you choose. You know that, right?" Cassian asked, almost desperately, like he needed to know that she knew this was her choice, and he would never leave her. The desperation in his voice reminded her of the metallic smell of the blood that the ground soaked up, his warm body beneath hers as he gasped for air and told her to leave him to die alone.

Nesta couldn't get the words out, they got stuck in her throat. She choked out a small sob, unable to stop herself, and gave him a small nod, overcome with emotions. Before she could try to compose herself, to put up the icy exterior she relied on so much, she felt something warm and solid wrap around her. Cassian was silent as he held Nesta in his arms, something he hadn't done since the night they had spent together. Nesta finally let herself cry, unable to keep her emotions at bay any longer.

When she felt like she couldn't cry anymore, like she had run out of tears to cry, she slowly pulled away from Cassian's chest, where he had been holding her and stroking her back, telling her everything would be alright. She looked up at the male who had been by her side every step of the way, whether she wanted him there or not.

She could feel her exhaustion taking over her, hitting her like a hammer. She tried to search for something to say, but didn't know how to put into words what she was feeling, not when she didn't even understand her emotions herself.

"You should rest," Cassian said softly, as he moved her so she was lying down on her pillow. He pulled her blankets over her, smoothed her hair down and kissed her forehead. Nesta was asleep before he had even left the room, feeling calmer than she had any right to be.

Tags list: @hizqueen4life @kelly-fasel @sannelovesreading @acourtofmarauders @maastrash

#my fic #bottled up storms #bottled up storms c1 #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #acotar #acowar #acotar ff #acomaf #acofas #acosf

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