#zeyn staring at nesta is brought to you by me

[ladynestaarcheron]

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Fifteen

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti ​ @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me)

what’s this?? a chapter for lpg, not 10 day after the last one?? bet your bottom dollar!!

thanks so much as always @thestarwhowishes!! and thanks to all my marvelous readers. i love you all so much. thanks for taking a chance on my weird maladaptive fantasy and sticking around<3

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December 20 - Year of

Nesta hadn't realized Emerie's shop was closing for Solstice, and apparently, Emerie hadn't realized Nesta wasn't celebrating.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, eyebrows raised, as Nesta entered.

"Working."

"The Commander left last night."

"So? I'm not his keeper."

"You don't...you're not going for Solstice?" Emerie frowned, like she couldn't understand.

Nesta shrugged. "I did not grow up with this holiday. I don't care about it."

"But it's fun," Emerie said, bewildered.

Nesta rolled her eyes as she began rehanging coats. She certainly did not classify an hours-long sit-down meal with her sister's in-laws as fun. Last Solstice, in fact, was a contender for Least Fun Night of Her Life.

"Your sisters probably bought you presents," Emerie said, pestering, which was quite unlike her. It was this obsession with Solstice, this worshipping. Apparently, her employer was infected with it as well. "Don't you like presents?"

"I prefer to buy things myself," Nesta said. She never did get the point of surprises. If you chose something yourself you couldn't possibly be disappointed, which she told Emerie.

"You can ask for something."

"Why do you have to wait for Solstice, then?" Nesta said. "If you want something, just buy it. If you have money. And if you don't, you can't celebrate anyway."

"Solstice isn't just about gifts."

"I don't worship your gods," Nesta said carelessly, making her way behind the front desk. She rifled through some of the papers she had on file—they ought to start thinking about spring wear, if they wanted to stay ahead of everyone else. "We should order lighter wear in January. Start putting things on the racks in February. Judging by how much we've sold this month—"

"I'm not very devout," interrupted Emerie.

Nesta looked up from the papers. Emerie's dark eyes were unblinking, her brown face schooled in a different expression from her usual indifference.

"All right," Nesta said.

"I don't go to any temple on Solstice."

"Fine," Nesta said. She didn't care. She had never been to a temple in her life.

"I still celebrate."

"Fine," Nesta said again. "I think we should order lighterwear in January."

"You should come to mine for dinner tomorrow evening," Emerie said.

Nesta narrowed her eyes.

"I was just going to go to the bonfires," she said. "But we could have a proper dinner."

"You're not spending it with your mother?"

"No...I eat breakfast with her."

Eugh. Breakfast with the whole family. Nesta cannot imagine any day deemed worthy of waking up early and then immediately being barraged by people.

"Fine," she said. "Will you look at this? My predictions for February..."

Emerie wasn't religious, as she said. This wasn't a dinner of worship. Or insufferable so-called family—Emerie never pretended to be Nesta's adoptive sister. Just...someone whom she got along with.

That was fine. This wasn't...instead of something else. It was just dinner. She'd had dinner with Emerie before. Before...before she'd started having it with Cassian every night.

This was fine.

December 15 - 1 year after

Their beautiful new archivist walked like a queen: back straight, chin set, stormy grey eyes surveying all that she saw as if considering everything in her path. All that went away when she picked up a book to read, melting like sugarberry ice in the summer, and it was Zeyn's favorite way to see her.

Her posture changed. Nesta always stood like she had a broom tied to her spine—did it not hurt, he wondered, to be like that all the time?—and when she found herself a quiet corner of Sugar Books, she folded into herself, unaware of her surroundings. Sometimes she would even mindlessly tug on a lock of her hair, tug it right out of the precise braid, and it would curl downwards, playing on her lashes—

"You're staring at her again," Maz snickered.

Zeyn snapped his head back to the book he was supposed to be working on. "I am not."

"Hush, Maz," Leyla said. "He's in love. It's sweet."

"It's creepy."

"I am not in love with her. And keep your voice down," he added, lowering his own dramatically. He risked a glance towards Nesta. Whether she was ignoring them or truly couldn't hear, he could not tell.

He wasn't in love with her. He had only just met her. But how could he not stare? She was so perfectly beautiful. Like she hadn't been born, like she'd been expertly made, sculpted by gods.

"You only think she's beautiful because she's High Fae," Maz said, sounding a bit sour.

"That's ridiculous," Leyla said, cutting in before Zeyn could himself. "Nesta is beautiful. But don't worry, Maz, we think you are, too." She winked as she picked up her crate of books and left.

Maz's eyes followed her out of the room.

"I'm sure she meant it," Zeyn teased.

"Oh, shut up. Go back to staring at Nesta."

"I wasn't staring."

"Were so..."

There was no point in arguing. It sounded pathetic, and it felt it, too. But it didn't need to be that way, right?

"Oh, great, there he goes," Maz muttered under his breath as Zeyn stood. "Off to swoop in on the scary pregnant lady."

Zeyn sincerely hoped she hadn't heard that. Nesta didn't appear to like to talk about her pregnancy much. She didn't like to talk to anyone about anything much. She was private to the point of secrecy.

"Good book?" he asked, sitting down next to her.

"It's all right," she replied, not looking up.

"Never did read any human-authored stuff much," he said. What was that flicker in her eye? "Maybe you could recommend some to me."

"That's my job."

He laughed. She didn't.

He cleared his throat. "So," he said, trying to find something else to talk about. "Are you excited for Solstice?"

That got her to look up. "You have Solstice here?"

He laughed. "Of course we do."

"No, I mean...the holiday?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't we?"

Nesta looked back down. She closed her book, though. "They don't have it everywhere. In the Summer Court," she added. "They...only celebrate the one in the summer."

"Oh," Zeyn said. "Well...we like to celebrate whatever we can in Sugar Valley." He grinned. "I suppose you've already seen the list of Solstice festivities." Erest, the town councilhead, had been proud to announce it at last week's town meeting. He had hung it on the notice board at the inn, and she was still staying there—although not for much longer, he thought, as Adil definitely had some sort of plans to find her somewhere else.

"I have not," she said.

"Oh. Are you...going back for Solstice? To Prythian?" Perhaps, because she had not realized it was a holiday here as well, she had made plans to leave.

"No. I'm...I don't have anything planned." Something was sitting on the tip of her tongue, behind her red lips, pursed shut. But she didn't let it out.

"Well, you should come to one of the town's celebrations!" An idea clicked into his mind. "I mean, you'll have to come to ours, right?"

"Ours?"

"The Sugar Books celebration. We have a staff party. Solstice Eve."

No one did anything on the day before Solstice, did they? So when he announced to them that they all had to come and pretend like it wasn't only for Nesta, they wouldn't—well, Maz wouldn't be too cross. He doubted the rest of them would mind. Miri would probably even help him plan it.

"Oh. I didn't realize you were...so close."

"We are!" Well, they got along. For the most part. That was enough. "It'll be a lot of fun. You'll come?"

Nesta's eyes darted around the room. She smoothed her hands over her skirts—always a shade of grey, always modest. But not so form-hiding that he hadn't noticed the slight changes in her body over the past month or so. Early pregnancy flattered Nesta. "Sure," she said.

Zeyn bit back his broad grin, not wanting to scare her off. He couldn't stop the excited twitch of his ears, though.

December 21 - year of

This Solstice, Emerie thought, was shaping up to be even less festive than last, which was saying something, because only a few short months before that one, various males in her family had died on the front lines in the war against Hybern.

She had shared a quiet breakfast with her mother, who hadn't spoken too much. Mostly just shot her wary glances. Probably because of the demonic scent all over her.

And now she was preparing dinner to share with that demon.

She didn't blame her mother. Nesta's scent was sweet in the same warding way of venom. Any living being innately knew to stay away from it. And Nesta didn't exactly have a winning personality that encouraged otherwise.

But she did good things for her shop. Emerie liked her for that enough.

Nesta Archeron wasn't a bad person. She didn't deserve to have Solstice alone, even if she didn't celebrate it.

The hair on Emerie's neck prickled when she heard her short raps on the door, but she ignored them. She wasn't scared of her Other employee.

Emerie didn't have much finery, but she did make an effort on Solstice. She wore shoes that were prettier than they were sensible and her hemlines sparkled. A glittering pin kept her braid at the side of her head—her usual hairstyle, but the ornament was only ever worn a few times a year.

Nesta made no such changes to her wardrobe, but she didn't need to. She wore her hair in crown-like knots and braids every day and no matter how drab the grey she wore in her dresses, nothing could dull her beauty.

She had even, Emerie noted, filled out a bit in the weeks she had been here. Her frame, once pitifully thin, had sparked gossip when she had first arrived at camp. Emerie remembered hearing rumors about how the Commander did not feed the High Lady's terrifying sister...

"Happy Solstice," Emerie said.

Nesta grimaced.

Emerie turned so Nesta wouldn't see her roll her eyes. "Wine?" she said, looking over her shoulder.

Nesa's jaw clenched. Her eyes closed. "No," she gritted.

All right, then. Emerie thought perhaps it would be better if she didn't have any, either. She put the bottle down and said, "Don't suppose you saw any of the shows last night." Some of the males put them on—flips and tricks, flying through the air.

"No."

"Neither did I," she said, and she couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. That was another thing she liked about Nesta Archeron. She genuinely did not care about anything Emerie's people did. She hadn't liked it at first, but now, seeing her disdain for some of the most respected people in the camps, the absolute apathy she had for the cruel ones who mocked females like her on what was supposed to be a sacred day...

Well. She supposed she had a few reasons to be glad Nesta had decided to enter her shop the day she wandered around their camp alone.

December 18 - 4 years after

It takes an enormous amount of power to winnow all the way across the sea, so on the agreed-upon date, Feyre is to fly to Sugar Valley. Along with her husband.

Things have been much better with her sister over the past month—both of her sisters, actually. Feyre has visited a few times, and Elain came to stay for a whole week. The children had loved that, as Cassian had also managed to spend a few days then.

But she has still not seen Rhysand since that day in September five years ago.

She assumes they—Rhysand and Morrigan—will summon the strength they need to mind themselves in her presence. She doesn't ask for much. Only quiet.

Nicky bounces with excitement all morning, rattling off to Ollie a list of all the things they're going to do "across the sea", courtesy of the stories his aunts and father have spent the past few weeks filling his head with. Avery keeps tapping Nesta's legs and asking when they're going to leave.

Nesta lets them amuse themselves, for the most part, as she double—and triple-checks their bags. Presents for the children that she was instructed to take and keep as surprise until Solstice evening by various townsfolk (some for her as well), clothes, medication for Ollie's lungs—he hasn't needed it in a while, but it never hurt to have it along—some favorite toys, books, the purple cup Avery needs, jars of jam...

All of this, of course, to keep herself busy. Until half past ten, when she hears the knock on her door.

Steeling herself is not particularly easy to do with her children's cries of "I want to open the door!" chorusing around her, but she manages.

Nicky gets there first. He lifts his chubby hand high above his head to reach the doorknob and throws himself at Feyre when he sees her.

"Hey!" she says, laughing as she catches him. "Oh, hello to you, too, Ava!" For Ava has also launched herself at her aunt.

Ollie stays safely behind her legs. He had been excited to see Feyre, but Rhysand, standing behind her, throws him off. He looks up at her, and she smiles down at him reassuringly.

"This is your uncle, Rhys!"

Nesta cannot stop her lip from curling upward. She might deny the relation on her side, but Cassian obviously has not on his.

"Hello," he says, smiling along with Feyre. "Nicky, and Ava...hello, Nesta. You're looking well."

"Hmm."

"And you must be Ollie," Rhys says, bending to his knee, to meet him at eye-level. "Hi. I'm Rhys."

Ollie looks up at Nesta again.

"It's all right," she says to him quietly. "But you can stay with me."

Nesta pulls Avery and Nicky into a hug and tells them she'll see them soon. Rhys holds onto two of their bags and then swoops the pair of them into his arms. With a nod at Nesta, he disappears.

"Ready, Ollie?" Feyre asks him, picking him up and holding him close to her chest.

He nods against her and leans on her shoulder. Nesta grabs the other bags and links her arm in her sister's.

"Let's go."

And they do.

It is, as usual, a most disorienting experience, and Nesta loses her sense of self for a few moments, but Avery's laughing voice brings her back.

She sees Cassian first, holding Ava and Nicky. Ollie squirms out of Feyre's arms to run to him, too.

She feels an arm on her shoulder. "Are you all right, Nesta?"

"Fine," she says to Feyre.

They're in her home, the third one, on the banks of the Sidra. One of the living rooms. Nesta recognizes the stained glass windows, the midnight blues—and, of course, the painted pictures of everyone. Herself excluded, obviously.

She remembers when Feyre had shown her the house. She hadn't mentioned the original Archeron decor, but she hadn't needed to. It had been impossible not to notice, and it still is. Had she expected her to say anything? To ask why?

Perhaps it had bothered her then, but it doesn't now. Nesta has her own house. Contrary to what her sister believes, not everyone you know by blood or happenstance needs to hold an intimate place in your heart, a spot of honor on your walls.

"Nesta? Are you sure you're all right?"

Nesta looks up at Cassian. His smile from seeing the triplets has dimmed. "I'm fine." She clears her throat. "Where can I put our things?"

"Oh, well, actually...we'll take a carriage."

She could swear Cassian bites his lip—in nervousness?

"All right," she says, giving a little shrug. The townhouse doesn't include much better memories than this place, but she guesses it'll be better. At least they'll have their own place, at least she won't have to be around all of them for the whole time. "Let's go."

Feyre and Rhysand help them bring their things down where the carriage is waiting for them.

"We're all the way across the sea, Mummy!" Nicky exclaims, rushing to clasp her hand in his.

"We are, angel."

"And we're...we came the whole way!"

"The whole way."

"For Solstice!"

"Mm-hm," Nesta says, keeping an eye on Avery pulling Ollie along.

"Where are we going now?"

"We're going to take a short ride," she says, lifting him up into the carriage. "Now you Avery—yes, sit tight. We're going to take a short ride to where we'll be staying."

"Where are we staying?"

"With our aunts?"

"No, we'll—"

"Actually," Cassian cuts in, placing Ollie in, "we're going to my house."

Nesta gives him a sharp glance, but he doesn't meet her eye as he helps her in.

"I didn't know you bought a house here," she says, low so the children can't hear her.

"Yeah, I...I mean, do you want to stay at the townhouse? That's empty now."

"No, no, I'm sure yours is fine. I mean. Is it—have you—?"

"Yeah, yeah, I've got beds for them...and you...and there's...I think you'll like it. Close to a park."

No matter how low they talk, all three of them pick up on that.

"We're going to play in the park?"

"Are our aunts coming too?"

"All right," Nesta says, a bit loudly, over them all. "We're going to go to Appa's house first and eat lunch and get settled and then we'll go to the park."

She hides a smile at their answering cheers.

"Where is it?" she asks Cassian.

"Near the Rainbow."

She doesn't particularly like the hustle and bustle of Velaris' city center. Too many people, too loud. Sugar Valley residents can be plenty loud, sure, and all the forgotten gods know that town meetings can be ridiculously stifling, but there are not so many people that Nesta does not know them all by face if not by name.

But she sees the house—Cassian's house—is not too close to the Rainbow. In fact, it's closer to the Sidra. A nice bank, shallow waters. There are some families with small children playing there.

It's styled like most of the houses in Velaris—in fact, it looks a bit similar to the townhouse. She likes the novelty of her blue-boarded house in Sugar Valley, but the maple brown of this one is nice, too.

"Here we are," Cassian says, getting out first, to help them all down. He takes the bags in one hand and Ollie in his other. "Let's go."

The sparsely-decorated inside reminds her a bit of his home in Illyria, but perhaps with a bit more child-proofing done. There are no sharp edges in his living room; the chairs and tables are all rounded, so she doesn't stop the children from rushing off to explore the rooms on the top floor.

"Wow," Nesta says, looking around.

"Do you like it?"

She peers in through a doorway. "You have a proper dining room." She's not jealous. She loves her home. Just...she wishes she had one. It might be nice, one day, when the children are older.

"I haven't got much for it yet."

"I can see that." Beige appears to be the predominant color, which is...interesting. "Why...were you waiting for my sister's Solstice gifts? To match the decor to?" Feyre gives them all paintings every year—or at least, she used to.

Cassian laughs. "No, I was hoping...well, I don't know. I've never decorated a house before."

"You realize how insane that is?" she asks him. "You're nearly six hundred years old."

"I'm not nearly six-hundred years old..." he trails off. They've had this conversation countless times—teasing, gentle, mostly. And then one time, very much not.

"So," he says, clearing his throat. "This is the ground floor. Living room...dining room...kitchen...do you like the cabinets?"

He must be more anxious than she thought. "They're great."

"Do you want to see the upstairs?"

"Sure."

There are four bedrooms. "These two are smaller, so...oh, there you all are!" For the children have made their place in the room clearly meant to be theirs, with little beds corresponding with the colors of the ones in their home in Sugar Valley. "Right. Here's...the master..." He dumps their bags unceremoniously on the floor.

"Nice view," Nesta says, looking out onto the park. She can see the Night Court's mountains in the distance.

"You can stay here," he says. "You know, while you're here."

Nesta turns to face him, blinking. "What?"

"If you want."

"It's your room. It's your house."

"I can sleep in one of the smaller rooms."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I—please, just take it."

She blinks again. "All right." If he wants her to...

"Mummy!" Avery calls as she runs in. "Mummy, can we have lunch and go play?"

"Yes, ah—you have...do you have food?"

"Yeah, I've gone out and I've got the kitchen stocked...I'll get started, why don't you...settle in?" He leaves her with a parting smile, Avery trailing after him.

Get settled, she thinks. She's not quite sure what that entails, but she decides it includes a few minutes to herself before the overwhelming onslaught of Velaris crashes over her.

---

Chapter Sixteen

[ladynestaarcheron]

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Nineteen

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti  @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me @rinad307 @superspiritfestival)

back after my exam hiatus!! so without further ado, here we go!

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February 12 - 4 years after

The sun is barely shining before Nesta has rushed out to—who else?—Zeyn's house.

She can hear him taking his time as he makes his way to the door and she bounces on the balls of her feet. It's not an emergency...yet. But she doesn't like the minutes ticking by, with Cassian home alone with the three of them.

His warm brown eyes are bleary only for a second before he realizes it is her standing before him, and then they fly open.

"Nesta? What are you—is everyone all right?"

"We need to take Ollie to see his healer," she says.

"All right, I'll get my shoes. But—you didn't bring him?"

Nesta winces. Poor wording on her part, indeed. "No," she says. "I meant...Cassian and I are taking him. I...need you to come be with Avery and Nicky."

Zeyn, to his credit, does not flinch. His concern slips into something else, something she cannot name, for only a fraction of a second before it is back. "Of course. Just a minute, yeah?"

And he reappears less than a minute later, boots laced, shutting the door behind him. They set off together.

He doesn't even ignore her. "Are you worried?"

"I'm always worried," she says. "It's not the worst it's ever been, but...it's been a while." It had been six months since Nicky had coughed badly enough to need to see a healer. She remembers holding him in the first minutes after his birth—she hadn't been given him right away, like his siblings, because even then there had been something wrong with his lungs.

Zeyn must sense where her mind has run off to, because he reaches out and squeezes her hand. "If you think it's not that bad, you're probably right. You're going to see a healer. Everything will be fine."

She shoots him a shaky, grateful smile.

"Are Ava and Nicky awake?"

"I don't think so. Not when I left."

"All right...just get them ready and take them to nursery?"

"Yes, I already packed their things...if Avery won't put on a jacket, don't argue with her, but bring it along and give it to her teacher."

"Is that still going on?"

"Don't get me started," she grumbles. They round the corner and walk up the path to the house. Nesta holds out her hand to stop him. "Zeyn," she starts. Pauses. "Thank you."

It's not enough...there's more to say, she knows. But it does it, for now. And she has more pressing matters at hand, anyway.

---

April 12 - Year of

With the dawn of spring came dramatic change in the shop. Whatever winter wear had not been sold was tucked away in storage, and the switching out of the clothier's merchandise had inspired Nesta to do the same in Cassian's home.

Cassian did not have much to begin with, of course. But she felt she could rearrange the furniture in her bedroom.

Not that she had done much to make the place "hers"—in fact, she was not quite sure how. The little apartment she had rented in Velaris was the closest thing she had ever had to her own home, and she hadn't done much in the way of decor there. Briefly, she wondered if it was still in her name, or if Feyre had stopped paying the rent.

She decided she didn't care much. She was never going to go back to Velaris. Even if Cassian did still take his trips there.

While it was true that she had never purchased any bedding or curtains or a vanity, the subscription Cassian had gotten her for Solstice—NightWrite—had provided her with little knick-knacks. She had thrown out anything with Night Court insignia, but kept most of it. So pushing her bed to one side of the room and moving her bookshelf to the other was also accompanied by shuffling around of these objects.

It was during this...rather useless endeavor, she could admit to herself, of switching the order of the tiny figurines on her shelf, that she found it—the old flyer she had taken from the bar in the town center. The one advertising ships to that land across the sea. Gilameyva.

Nesta sat down on the bed. This is the paper that had inspired her, all those months ago, to get a job. To save up and go.

Since she never bought much of anything, she definitely had enough to book comfortable passage. She could go. Just set sail and...never come back.

Or maybe she could go...somewhere else. On a vacation. And then she would...come back. Didn't people plan for summer holidays months in advance? She could bring it up to Cassian now. Couldn't she?

But no, that would be insane. She had to save up. Because she was not going to live in his house forever. And where would she live? Would she build herself a house here, in the Illyrian mountains?

The flyer in her hand seemed to mock her. An idyllic land far away where no one knew the name Nesta Archeron. A fresh start.

For what she could not admit to herself, but what she had just started to understand was: she did not want a fresh start somewhere else. She wanted to stay with Cassian.

When had the switch happened in her mind? When did this pull between them not become so irritating? When had she decided to make her bedroom more comfortable, make her mark more permanent?

She didn't know. The only thing she was certain of was that this current state of limbo, of living in her room in his house while waiting for him to come back from meetings with her sister...this would not do.

Romance was fun in books, but in the real world, practically always won out for Nesta, and so it was abundantly clear to her that two options lay before her: either she would leave or she would stay. And those were her terms.

So all she had to do was work up the nerve to act on her decision.

After she figured out what it was, of course.

February 12 - 4 years after

When they get to the clinic, they are not immediately rushed into a room, which calms Nesta down. Cassian, on the other hand, only gets more anxious.

"Why aren't they letting us see the healer?" he demands in a whisper, low enough so Ollie, his head on Nesta's shoulder, cannot hear him.

"Trust me, if they think we can wait in line, we're all right."

"But he's coughing!"

"The others might have some graver issue. If they pull you ahead, your situation is dire." Indeed, there had been times when Nesta had brought Ollie in; the healer had taken one look at him and announced that she would need all her appointments cancelled.

"Sit down," she tells him, lowering herself and Ollie into a chair. She presses her lips to the top of his head as she strokes his lower back.

Cassian does, but it must be wildly uncomfortable; these tiny things with no wing-accommodation. She frowns. What will that be like for her children? To live here, where even in a community of different types of faeries, they are clearly other.

"You're really not worried?" he asks her.

"I'm concerned," she says. "But I'm not nervous. I know more or less what she's going to say. His lungs haven't gotten drastically weaker. You see him play and run around. It comes and goes for him. As long as we keep up with what the healer prescribes—which we do—we should be fine."

Cassian is quiet, clearly struggling for words.

"What is it?"

"Sometimes...things don't happen according to plan," he says finally.

She actually laughs a little. "Well, I know that."

His lips quirk at her slight laugh. "How did...how did you find out? That you were...pregnant?"

She leans back in her chair, giving Ollie more room to recline on her. Lying on his stomach sometimes helps with his cough. "I fainted, actually. And they—Miri, Zeyn—they brought me to the clinic and Amorette told me."

"She was your healer the whole time?"

"Yes. That's how we met."

"And you..." he hesitated. "She delivered them?"

"She did," she says.

Nesta often recalls that day with wonder. Her whole life she had felt—everything. Just so much, all the time. And how insignificantly nothing it all appeared, compared to that cacophony of emotion in those few hours.

"He was sick, then, too," Cassian says softly.

They have never truly discussed this before, but..."Yes. He was born...he was too small. And his lungs were...weak. Not quite underdeveloped, but weak. He wasn't...ready to breathe...yet."

Recollecting that time—collapsing in exhaustion and relief against the bed, and realizing only a few seconds later that something was horribly, horribly wrong—why weren't they giving her the baby? Why could she only hear two cries?—it always tightens Nesta's throat and blurs her vision. She can barely feel Cassian put his arm around her.

"We didn't know what was going to happen, at first," she whispers, half because of where they are, half because of what she's saying. "But he's...he's strong now. This is just...we're at the healer's. He'll be fi—" Nesta's voice catches on the last word and she can't finish it. She forces her mind to go blank. She can't imagine—can't let herself think—

"Hey," Cassian's voice cuts in. He squeezes her shoulder. "Stay with me."

You stay with me, she wants to say.

But she stays silent, choosing to focus on the feel of his arm. She doesn't trust her voice now, for anything.

---

April 15 - 1 year after

Midway through her second trimester, Nesta was more than ready to give birth. The extra weight she was carrying was officially past flattering, she couldn't see her feet unless she was lying down, and everywhere she went, people stopped her and asked her if she was excited.

The latter was the absolute worst, because she still had not decided whether or not she was going to keep the children.

But she had never been good at being put on the spot—her preferred method of dealing with unwanted advances had always been silently staring them down, and since she was trying to get along as an average Sugar Valley resident, when Zeyn asked her if she had gotten around to painting the nursery yet, and if she would like some help...

What else could she say?

So he was there that afternoon, holding two buckets of light blue paint.

"Are you sure there's any difference between these two?" he asked, squinting.

"Sky and powder? Yes." To be fair, she probably wouldn't have registered the difference so clearly had she not grown up with Feyre, ever-obsessed with chronicling the different colors around them.

"Are we doing...stripes?"

"No." Stripes? For babies? "Just those two will be powder," and she punctuates her words by pointing to the wall front and back walls, "and those two will be sky."

"Oh. Why?"

"It's supposed to be lightly stimulating." She had read that in a book Amorette had given her. She was skeptical, but the store she had gone to had given her a good deal on the paints.

"Right. Well. Let's start, then."

Zeyn could be irritating, but his endless, mindless chatter could be comforting, as well. That was how she felt today. And she did appreciate how he kept going to fetch her things—berry juice and an extra cushion to put on her chair. Nesta felt she had not done her part at all, but Zeyn didn't seem to mind.

"Any progress on names?"

"Nothing concrete."

"Ah, well," he said. "My mother says you have to meet a baby before you know for sure if the name is right."

Nesta didn't think she'd be able to "meet a baby"—surely they would just be...the same as the rest of the small children she saw at the clinic or around town. Babies, she felt, all looked the same, and even if they were older and had developed their own features, they weren't very diverse personality-wise.

Not that she didn't like children. She remembered a vague feeling of excitement being told that she was going to have a new baby sister—Feyre, she couldn't remember Elain's birth—and she had liked to play with her, when she was a young girl. But there had not been very many babies for her to interact with during her teenage and adult years.

This was ridiculous. She didn't need to dwell on this so much. She probably wasn't going to keep them, right? That was why it didn't matter that Cassian still had not written back. It wasn't...he didn't need to know, if neither of them wanted anything to do with this. Because he did not want children either, obviously. He was...busy.

"Maybe it'll look different when it dries," Zeyn said, interrupting her thoughts.

"What? Oh, yes...sky's a bit darker."

"Hmm," he said, frowning. "You know...I really don't see it."

Nesta shrugged.

Zeyn clapped his hands together. "Well, as fun as staring at paint dry is..." he grinned at her. "Want to go for dinner? Jamal's?"

And she was certain that Sugar Valley etiquette demanded humoring the person who spent the afternoon doing handiwork at your house, so she said, "Sure."

---

February 12 - 4 years after

It is just past noon when Nesta sees Zeyn again, at the shop, coffee and pastry in hand.

"Hey!" he says. "You're all right? Ollie's...?"

"Fine," she says, unable to stop her grin. "The healer gave us a tonic for him to take over the next few weeks. She said that he might need it now and again, but as long as he takes it when he does, she sees no reason to expect significant deterioration. He'll probably be on par with his siblings by the time he turns twelve." Nesta's heart sings as she repeats the healer's words.

Zeyn pulls her in a hug. "Let's tell Miri and Adil. They're in the back."

"Oh, I'm actually not staying long. I just came to let you know we're all right...and give you this," she adds, holding out the food. "Thank you so much. How were Avery and Nicky?"

"Fine," he says. "We had fun."

Nesta rolls her eyes. "Don't tell me."

"I wasn't going to," he teases. "It's a secret."

"You four and your secrets," she says, rolling her eyes again.

He shakes his head, eyes still laughing at her. "Are you taking him back to nursery?"

"No, we're going to let him rest. We think it also might be nice to spend some time with just him, the both of us. We're thinking—" Nesta stops herself. Zeyn does not need to know how she and Cassian plan to spend time with each child individually, he does not need to hear this. "He's just so tired," she finishes.

But the damage is done and the warmth slips out of Zeyn's face. He looks down at the order from Samir's. "Nesta," he says, soft, slow. "Are you really doing this with him?"

She freezes. "Zeyn. He's their father. He has a right to be included in this."

"I'm not talking about that...and I don't agree with you on that matter, either."

Nesta raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"He wasn't there, Nesta," Zeyn says, more desperate than anything else. "He just—you had to do it all without him."

"I can't believe you're starting this right now," she says, more to herself than to him. Louder, she says, "I will not discuss this. He's here now. He's a part of their lives now. He was with me today."

"He's here when it fits his schedule."

"There's nothing wrong with having a job," she defends—defends! As if she doesn't hate that he commands the Night Court armies!

"Yours and his are not comparable," he says. "Do you remember...what it was like? What it felt like?" Zeyn stops, takes a shaky breath, before continuing. "Because I remember seeing you. In pain. Burdened. All alone."

"That's enough," Nesta snaps, crossing her arms. "It's been months, Zeyn. He's a permanent fixture of their lives. You ought to get used to it."

"Oh, I'm used to that," he says, about as close to testy as Zeyn can get. "It's his being a permanent fixture of your life I can't get behind."

Nesta tenses. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nesta. Please."

She shifts her weight backwards. If he were anyone else...but he's not. He's Zeyn. Zeyn, who has always been there for her, to the very best of his ability, who left his house at dawn this morning to feed and dress her children.

So she takes a deep breath. "I need to be getting back, Zeyn," she says.

He slumps slightly, but she knows this isn't over. "Give my love to Ollie," he says.

"I will."

"Thanks for the food."

"Don't be silly...thank you. Really."

"Don't thank me."

"Well, I will if I see fit. Thank you."

It works—he gives a short laugh. But it doesn't meet his eyes.

She doesn't have space, though, in her head or heart for that right now. Not Zeyn; not that she doesn't have any room for him. But right now...right now she needs to go to Ollie.

---

thank you all for your patience with this chapter, and @thestarwhowishes for betaing<3 would love to hear what y’all think<3

---

Chapter Twenty

[ladynestaarcheron]

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Eighteen

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti  @rhysandsrightknee @missing-merlin @azriels-forgotten-shadow @books-and-cocos @sezkins79 @city-of-fae @someonemagical @dusty-lightbulb @messyhairday-me @rinad307 @superspiritfestival )

so, i recalled earlier this week that in canon, showers don't exist. you might be thinking, hey lior zoë, what are you talking about? allow me to refresh your memory. in acowar, nesta confesses to feyre in front of the inner circle that her ptsd is triggered by taking baths, because of the cauldron. so she has to bathe in buckets. feyre assures her that they will come up with some contraption that will allow her to clean herself some other way. in the snippet from the end of acofas (which we now know is called A Court of Silver Flames, btw!!), nesta mentions her ability to slip into a bath is huge progress. so presumably, feyre has not given her this contraption. i think about this all the time, because the idea of a superior race with all the magic in the world not having ever invented showers is so supremely stupid to me. however, it has come to my attention that on two occasions I have forgotten this, and mentioned showers in previous chapters of lpg. i have elected to continue ignoring this and in the future will continue to reference showers. but in accordance with the rules of the game, I can no longer call this fic canon compliant AU. henceforth, this fic is a showers exits!AU and nothing more.

enjoy.

---

February 9 - 4 years after

The last of Sugar Valley's snow melts in early February, and as mid-month nears, the weather almost looks warm outside. Of course, it is still plenty cold, so every morning brings a new argument on whether or not Avery has to wear her coat, which sparks an identical one with Nicky.

Nesta takes a deep breath. "All right, Avery," she says. "Stand outside for one whole minute without your coat. Just on the porch. Yes, you too, Nicky."

"I want Ollie to come too," Avery demands.

"No, Ollie doesn't want to stand in the cold without a coat. There you go. Your minute starts...now."

Nesta watches the two of them stand on the front porch, Nicky enjoying himself like it is a game and Avery, cross and stubborn, glaring at her.

Ollie sits on the floor next to the door, working on putting his boots on by himself. He's quiet except for slight whispers as he coaches himself on how to tie his laces.

"Had enough?" Nesta calls.

"I'm cold, Mummy."

"Well, come inside and put on your coat, then," Nesta says, doing her absolute best to keep her voice even.

Nicky does, but Avery remains outside, scowling.

Nesta takes a deep, shaky breath. "Avery," she says. "I can see you're shivering."

Avery stomps her foot. "I am not."

Nesta closes her eyes. "All right," she says. It's far too early in the day to choose a hill to die on. "Let's just walk to nursery, then."

Nesta wraps Avery's coat inside hers—she can't hold it normally, for if Avery sees it, she'll throw a fit. She fastens her buckle tightly, so the smaller coat won't slip down her body and she can still use both her hands to hold onto her children.

But Avery doesn't want to hold hands today.

Eventually, she manages to get all three of them to nursery, with Avery in her sour mood the whole way, Ollie keeping to himself as much as possible, and Nicky blissfully unaware of both his sister's and his mother's irritation.

She sneaks the coat into their teacher's hands and leaves after only two quick kisses goodbye—Avery has joined her friend Emilia in a game and refuses to pay Nesta any mind at all.

So Nesta scowls on her way to start her day, too. Perhaps even more than usual, for Maz ducks behind a bookshelf as soon as he sees her.

"How have you scared him off already?" Zeyn asks, laughingly, from behind her.

Nesta whips around. "All I did was walk in here!" She can't help her outburst. She doesn't have many outlets. She'll take what she can get.

But Zeyn is rather used to this, and his easy-going personality never falters. "Woah," he says, holding his hands up. "Coffee's in the back room. Come with me."

She'd like to stew in her misery for a bit longer, actually, but Zeyn doesn't let her, pushing her along and sitting her down in a chair.

"Is it the workload?" he asks her. "I know you've been taking the brunt of those Prythian writers..."

"It's all of it, Zeyn," Nesta says, dejected. "It's the writers and my regular workload and Avery's going through this phase...and Ollie's being quieter than usual and I think his lungs are part of the reason, really..."

And she doesn't say it to him, but it's Cassian, too. Not that he's done anything wrong, it's just...he's been in the Night Court all week, and she has grown so used to having him around. And now it feels like everything has been dumped upon her alone. Pairing this with that "paperwork" that Amorette had started doing, which is shaping up to be a huge opportunity for her in Ciyaluck...Nesta's never felt more burdened in her life.

"At least Nicky's still singing to himself," she says miserably.

"Ava's not exactly depressed, Nesta," Zeyn says, teasing slightly.

"I think she hates me now."

"She doesn't! Like you said, it's just a phase."

"It's not..." Nesta swallows. "It's just a lot."

And now she can't even share with him, because...well...it feels too weird. She and Cassian have been co-parenting for months now. She's been slowly easing Zeyn out of conversations like this, and to suddenly talk about something as intimate as her relationship with her daughter with such brazenness...it feels wrong to be talking to anyone else this way.

But that isn't right. She still loves Zeyn. He still helped her with the children so much when they were born, when she was pregnant.

"It feels a lot to handle sometimes," she says finally.

Zeyn cups her face with his hand. His eyes, warm as ever, twinkle at her. "You don't have to handle it alone," he promises, voice sweet.

She summons a smile. "Is that an offer to edit these short stories I just got?"

Her ill attempt at humor works. He laughs and breaks apart. "Count on it."

---

February 3 - 1 year after

It was a good thing Adil had found her a house when he did, because the deals with the bank and with Erest, the councilhead, were finalized just as Nesta grew to be too big to fit through the door of her room at the inn.

Nesta had actually been looking forward to her second trimester, because of the promise of not greeting every morning with violent illness, and then crumpling up in a heap on the bathroom floor.

But it seemed that the first day she had awoken to find all she had eaten before going to bed yesterday had successfully stayed down, was also the day she thought she would not be able to get out of bed on her own. While it was true—in her case, at least—that the fourth month of pregnancy brought with it the energy that had all but disappeared completely these past few months, it wasn't much use if she was too heavy to handle herself.

Amorette, her healer, was pleased to note every pound Nesta gained. She had been worried, at first, having heard tell of females unable to produce enough space and nutrition for multiples and losing all of them, one after the other, but Nesta was having no such troubles. She—and Miri—had assured her that she did not look to be the same size as her new two-story house, though.

(There was some concern about the size of one of the triplets, a male, significantly smaller than the other two, but Amorette said as long as they were keeping an eye on it all, they should be fine.)

"Right, then," Adil said, coming down the stairs of the house. "You should be set for now. Placeholders," he added, nodding towards the blue couch in the living room and other items that graced Nesta's sparse new home. "Until we can...get some..." he trailed off, looking around, perhaps doing more measuring in his head.

"You've done more than enough," Nesta said firmly. While pregnancy had not been kind to her over the last month, Adil certainly had, helping her with everything she could possibly think to need. Miri as well. And Zeyn...well, Nesta could never really tell if he was more irritating than helpful, but he was there, too.

"Got the cribs set up, room next to yours. Didn't paint the room, though..."

Nesta could hardly believe it. "What?"

Adil looked as startled as she felt. "Well, Miri said it was important for you to paint it. Nesta...?"

"Nesting," Miri called from the kitchen.

"Right."

"No, no, it's not that. I just..."

I just forgot I'd need cribs.

"...didn't realize you had bought me cribs. That's—that's too kind."

"Gift from the shop," he grunted, looking away. That was fine. Nesta didn't want to make eye contact either. "Well, we'll be on our way."

Miri came out of the kitchen. "I've got some meals ready for you in there, dear."

"Oh, thank you, Miri. You didn't have to do that."

"Oh, please. We'll see you tomorrow, dear."

"Thank you," she said again, to them both, as she walked them out.

The sound she made when she shut the door was between a sigh and a groan. Endless relief and gratitude that she finally—finally, for the first time in her life, had her own home. And the dawning realization that it would not be hers alone in a few short months.

Or would it? Nesta didn't remember deciding she was going to keep the triplets, only that she wasn't terminating the pregnancy. Were those her children stretching out her insides, she wondered, running her hands over her belly as she stared in the mirror? Or was she just holding them for someone?

That was something she needed to figure out. Before Cassian wrote back, at least.

She tried not to think about how he hadn't written back yet. Perhaps he was still...upset. But he would, eventually, and then she...they would...what?

Less than five months to go...and with the average duration of a triplet pregnancy being far less than the typical nine months, probably not even that. Whatever decision she was going to make, she had to make it soon.

---

February 18 - Year of

Nesta never thought the sight of Cassian's house in their camp would bring her so much relief. But it meant that trip was finally over.

"I've got to shower," she said, as soon as she walked in the door. "I have to get all of that place off of me."

"What was so bad about it?" he called after her, but she didn't stop to answer.

That camp wasn't so terribly different from this one, true. In fact, it was uncannily similar, as she had noted when they first arrived there. But the people were different. There was no love lost between all the townspeople here (save Cassian and Emerie) and Nesta, but she had not missed being looked at that way. Hated...feared.

She hadn't minded really, in that room. And she could admit to herself here, alone in the shower, that she even...enjoyed some of it. The parts where she spent all her waking hours with Cassian, and even when there were other people in the room, she wasn't sharing him.

Nesta had never been someone's first choice. No one had ever placed her at the height of their priorities, given themselves to her first and foremost. And that still wasn't what was happening. They had only gone because Cassian was General Commander—sworn to her sister and Rhysand and the people of the Night Court first.

But all that had seemed far away on this trip. It was so easy to pretend like none of that was real.

Even then, she knew the illusion couldn't last that long.

---

February 26 - 1 year after

Days seemed to go by quicker now. What with her new house, Nesta felt she had more freedom to go about the town as she pleased. She was so taken with living life as she saw fit, she didn't even mind that Sugar Valley really didn't have much to do. She thought she might prefer it that way.

In the mornings, she would walk to the bookstore, and someone would be waiting with a coffee for her. Zeyn or Miri or sometimes Leyla. Perhaps they worked in shifts.

She'd read and repair all day, and stop to eat lunch with everyone at half past noon. There hadn't been a collective lunch break when she had started, but one day she sat down with a large container of chicken salad, and Zeyn had sat himself next to her, and then Leyla had joined, and Maz followed her, along with Xeyale and Amir, and Miri had come to see what the gathering was about, and then Adil had wandered in after her. Sometimes their publishing agent, Hazar, stopped by and joined them.

Sometimes she'd leave in the afternoon for a visit with Amorette. In the evenings, she'd go home and fix herself dinner, which she liked to do alone.

But after that, she'd go for a walk about the town, and inexplicably, someone would be there. Most often Zeyn.

"So, you think of any names yet?" he said to her one night, as they walked.

Nesta popped a sugarberry into her mouth. "Names?"

"For the babies."

Nesta flinched. "No."

"Oh, do you think it's bad luck to talk about it? Some people do. My mother's that way."

"I don't believe in luck," she said. Luck was so faerie, like their pantheon of gods and fate and mates. None of that was real. Not real enough to matter, anyway.

Zeyn laughed. "That must be nice."

She didn't think it was. He laughed at everything, didn't he? Nesta would never be that way.

"So, do you need any help? With the names?"

"Did you have some you wanted to share?" she asked drily.

"ZJ," he said immediately.

"ZJ? Zeyn Junior?"

He grinned at her. "Got a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

She summoned a weak smile. Where she was from, someone was only a Junior if they had taken their parent's name.

"Zahra's pretty popular for a girl," he continued, unaware of her thoughts. "I think it's pretty."

"I don't think I want a Gilameyvan name, though," she mused. And she certainly shouldn't choose a name if she wasn't sure she wanted to keep the children.

"What's popular in Prythian, then?"

"I don't know," she said shortly. Then, after considering it for a few moments, "I'm from south of Prythian."

"What's popular there? Is Nesta a common name?"

"Hardly," she scoffed. Feyre wasn't, either. They did know their fair share of Elains, though. "I guess...Heather? Joyly? Analynn?"

"Joyly's nice."

"Well, I didn't like any of the Joylys I knew."

"What about boy names?"

Nesta thought. "Well...Caleb, I guess. Elias." She didn't remember many boys she had known. Tomas, of course, but she wasn't going to name anyone after him. "Actually," she said, softly, "I did always like my father's name."

He touched her elbow gently. "What was his name?"

"Ollison," she said. She hurried to find something else to say. She certainly didn't want to talk about her father. "I like Avery for a girl. A book I liked when I was younger...the heroine was called Avery."

"Human-authored?"

"Yes."

"Maybe we can find it," he said. "How do you know so many human-authored books anyway?"

So Adil hadn't mentioned her slight stretch of truth. "I lived among them for many years," she said.

"Wow, really? What were they like?"

"They were normal," she answered, irritated by the question.

"Really, even to a High Fae?"

Oh. That was why he asked. How to answer?

"Friendships and love can transcend race," she said, thinking of her sister and her new family. Herself and...

"You loved some of them."

After a lengthy pause, Nesta said, "I did. Very much."

---

February 11 - 4 years after

Avery's poor attitude does not transfer towards her behavior at nursery, according to her teacher, and while Nesta supposes she should be glad of this, she finds she's only upset that it seems to be just her Avery has a problem with.

This is further worsened by her shrieks of delight when Cassian accompanies her to pick them up that afternoon.

Avery races towards him like she hasn't seen him in months—even though Cassian had arrived last night, and they had all eaten breakfast together.

Cassian doesn't seem to notice Nesta's disgruntlement, and laughs as he picks Avery up into his arms. Nicky and Ollie clamber at his legs, and he scoops them up too.

Nesta keeps her eye roll to herself as she takes their bags. Not Avery's coat, though—because at Cassian's request, she had elected to wear hers today.

At least Nicky says, "Mummy, I missed you so much today!" and Ollie nods along eagerly.

"Can we go to the park?" Avery asks.

"You know the rules, Ava," Cassian says sternly, as they leave. "We go home and eat first."

Avery pouts some, and Nesta's blood rushes to her cheeks—is she going to throw a tantrum? Oddly, the idea of a public fit doesn't faze Nesta at all, as the three of them have each had their fair share, but having Cassian see how incompetent she can be mortifies her beyond belief.

But he coaxes her out of it by promising they're going to go to the park later, and actually, they're going to cook something together to eat, and won't that be fun?

Nesta has been hiding her bitterness from her children their whole lives, so this one afternoon is hardly the one that kills her. But she takes extra care to keep up cheery pretenses because of Cassian's presence, and she's convinced she's done a good job of it, because he doesn't seem to notice anything's the matter at all.

At least, she doesn't think he does, but right after they shut the door to the children's room, he puts his arm over her shoulder, and—when they are safely out of earshot, in the kitchen—says, "Nesta, what's wrong? You've been miserable all day."

"I have not been miserable all day," she scoffs, trying to hide her flush with a glare.

"Come on, Nesta. What is it? Is it Ava? Kids act like that all the time."

"I know how children act," she snaps.

"I didn't mean to imply you don't," he says. "Just...trying to reassure you." He hesitates. "Nesta...Rhys and Az and Mor each told me that you're a wonderful mother."

"What a surprise that must have been."

"To them, maybe, but not to me," he says seriously. "I always knew. But it's okay if this is hard for you to do on your own. With Ava and with everything you've had to take on at work...and, you know, if anything else has been pressuring you..." he trails off, and when she doesn't show any sign she knows what he's talking about, his lips tug upwards slightly, and he adds, "If I've been pressuring you."

"You have not been pressuring me," she says automatically.

"Well, I hope you're lying," he says, "because I've certainly tried to."

Nesta rolls her eyes.

"You really haven't thought about my telling you I want us to be a family?" he asks, skeptical. "I don't believe you. Come on, Nesta, it's just me. You can tell me."

Nesta gives a short, irritated sigh. "Well, of course I've thought about it."

"And what?" He takes a step closer to her. "You haven't come up with an answer yet?" He puts his hands on her shoulders, smirking slightly.

He's...he's much closer now. And his wings aren't spread wide, but inching closer to her as well. Blocking out everything in her periphery, so he is all she can see. "I have."

He raises an eyebrow. This is unnatural, isn't it, being this close without actually touching? "And?"

His eyes—like Avery's, like Ollie's, like a dark honey disappearing into the black of his pupils. It takes her a minute to remember what he's talking about. "Oh," she says, slightly surprised to remember. "Well. Of course I want us to be a family." She doesn't get a chance to say anything else.

Because then he is kissing her, and it's like no time has passed. His hands circling her waist and hers taking their place in his hair. He tastes the same—that vague lemon and mint. His hair is a bit longer, but the growling sound from the back of his throat when she pulls it is just as she remembers. It's what spurs him onward, downward. His lips move to the side of her mouth, and he kisses down her neck, but she pulls him back upwards. It's been too long. She has waited so long for this.

And it appears she'll have to wait a while longer, because just as their hands start to roam, a small voice from the stairwell calls, "Mummy, my throat is really hurting a lot."

They rip apart. Cassian's eyes are wide, and he snaps his wings backwards to be tucked against his back.

Nesta whips around, hands furiously smothering her hair—just in time to see Ollie wobble into the kitchen.

He hasn't seen.

The pair of them breathe a sigh of relief together.

Then Nesta remembers what he said. "Your throat hurts, angel? Come here." She picks him up and holds him against her. He lays his head on her shoulder and coughs, wet and deep.

"It's been back," Nesta whispers to Cassian. To Ollie she says, "Do you feel like you need to take the purple medicine we got from the healer?"

Ollie nods, yawning.

"It's in that cabinet there," she says to Cassian. She takes a deep breath to calm herself so she can calm him. "We're going to take a little bit of medicine. We're going to practice our deep breaths over the steaming bowl, and first thing tomorrow we are going to see our friend Healer Nazrin. All right, angel?" She looks at Cassian when she speaks, and he nods along with Ollie.

After she directs Cassian on how much of the tonic to give Ollie, she says, "Now, why don't you go with Appa and sit on the couch, and Mummy will bring the steaming bowl?"

This is not the first time Ollie has woken up in the middle of the night complaining of throat or chest pains and a cough. Nesta's not overly terrified; in fact, she's even pleased to see he is old enough to tell her exactly what hurts and that he wants medicine. But she knows that for Cassian, this is the first time, and he is probably as scared as she was. So sitting with him for a moment alone on the couch while she takes care of the treatment will probably calm him down.

And give her just a few seconds to collect herself. There is far too much on her plate. She doesn't need anything extra to deal with now.

---

hope you enjoyed that!!

also, did you know, i started a booktube? also also did you know, june 21st as this week and it’s the triplets’ birthday? also also also did you know, june 25th is tomorrow and that’s my birthday!!

thank you all so much for the overwhelming support. i just love you guys so much. i also love @thestarwhowishes, my beta.

---

Chapter Nineteen

[ladynestaarcheron]

Like Pristine Glass - Chapter Three

ao3 - ff.net - masterpost

(tagging these cuties: @humanexile @skychild29 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @candid-confetti)

hey guys! so chapter three is ready earlier than expected because it was remarkably easy to write! 

thank you all so much for all your kind words; I love hearing from you!! now without further ado, chapter three:

October 15 - 4 years after

Nesta’s children, like all children, depend on routine and cling to their own, so Nesta tries as hard as she can to keep to their schedule, and Sugar Valley is quiet enough that there is near nothing out of the ordinary, and virtually everything is alerted to the community a week before in town meetings.

Erest, the town’s councilhead, neglected to inform her that Cassian, the father of her children, whom she has not seen for four years, would be on her doorstep last night, consequently throwing the rest of her week and life into disarray.

Although obviously nothing of this caliber has every come up, there have been times when she has had to change their plans at a moment’s notice, and she’s figured out a way to ease them into the transition: she tells them they get to do the change.

“All right, who’s ready to have so much fun at Mummy’s work today?” she says when she wakes them up.

They chorus their replies, Nesta having excited them enough into distraction of the fact that coming with her to work means  they’ll miss seeing their friends that day.

Nicky chatters about how Zeyn will show him his secret at the store today, and Nesta can barely force herself to respond, her head still reeling from her and Cassian’s talk. It had been short, no longer than three minutes, but that first moment, before Nicky had spoken, had lasted forever.

He has not changed over the four years they have been apart, she knows, but he was suddenly there last night, here in Sugar Valley right now, and he just looked bigger than she remembers. No, perhaps not bigger. Just more.

Looking into his face...she saw her children. Nicky’s hair and Avery and Ollie’s eyes, his brown skin echoed in theirs in various tones. And of course, the wings.

It’s not her fault she thinks he’s beautiful. She has to. He looks like her babies.

They had accosted her last night, bombarded her with questions--who was that, Mummy? They know everyone in Sugar Valley. There aren’t too many people to know. And certainly no one else with Illyrian wings.

They are too little to register their other physical similarities, but the wings were very obvious to them. They wanted to know if he was going to go with them to flying lessons, and she didn’t have an answer.

Please let me be in your lives.

Will she?

She wants what is best for the children. She will do whatever they need. But what if that hurts her? Or what if Cassian can offer them more than she can?

She’s confused. Her mind is in turmoil. She slept miserably, just lying in bed wondering what this would mean for her future, her children’s future...and thinking of Cassian doing the same, in the town’s inn.

He’s here. In Gilameyva. She’s meeting him for lunch.

She hopes her children have forgotten, and mercifully they do not mention him as she readies them for the day. She can barely stay focused on them, and her mind is fixed on Cassian as she walks them all to Sugar Books, she only realizes she has no idea what she is going to tell Zeyn when she sees him.

He holds up her coffee in an outstretched hand, pulling Avery towards him in the other. “Good morning,” he says, smiling broadly. “I didn’t realize you were going to be here all day.”

“We’re going to have so much fun!”

“We’re going to read.”

“Mummy’s going to play with us all day.”

“Show me our secret!”

“I want a secret too!”

“You’ll all get your secrets,” Zeyn assures them. “Why don’t you go wait for me in the reading nook?”

The three of them dash off to the far corner of the store. Adil had brought in pillows and stuffed toys and play house and put them next to the children’s books when Nesta had given birth. She had brought them in every day before they started at the nursery.

“So, why’d you bring them all in? And when are you taking Ollie?”

Nesta stares at him blankly for a moment, before she remembers--she was meant to take Ollie to the healer’s today. She bites her lip. “Oh, no, I just...I have to go to the healer’s myself. Without Ollie, I mean.”

He looks at her, surprised. “You’re not taking Ollie?”

“No...not this time.”

“Oh,” he says, brow furrowing. “So you’re going to the healer? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing to worry about,” she says. She tries to sound reassuring, but she hates lying to him. “I’ll be leaving at noon. I’m not quite sure when I’ll be back....”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, smiling at her reassuringly.

And she feels a sudden onslaught of anger at Cassian--he’s making her lie to Zeyn. Zeyn, who has been nothing but kind to her since she met him. Who helped her with her pregnancy, with the children’s infancy, with nights of fear of the unknown. When he had left her.

���Thank you,” she mumbles, not looking at him. “I...have to go find Miri. I think some of our books have been switched.”

And she leaves him, practically fleeing.

“I need to talk to you,” she says to Miri, under her breath, when she finds her.

“Talk away,” Miri says, not looking up from the pile of books she’s sorting.

“It’s urgent.”

Miri picks her head up. Her gaze turns worried when she sees Nesta’s anxious eyes, biting on her lower lip. “Let’s...go to the back room.”

Nesta follows Miri along. The female has become a sort  of mother-figure to her. Nesta finds it hard to grow close to anyone, she always has, but this staff...all of them hold a spot in her heart, and Miri’s is particularly intimate. She had cried with her, during her pregnancy. About how scared she was, about how she wasn’t meant to be a mother.

Miri shuts the door behind them. She pulls two chairs aside and they sit. She doesn’t say anything, only looks at Nesta patiently, waiting.

Nesta takes a deep breath. She doesn’t know how to say this, but she expects this isn’t the time for beating around the bush. It’s past nine and she has less than three hours.

“My children’s father showed up at my doorstep last night,” she says, getting it all out in one breath.

Miri’s eyes widen and her mouth parts open. She puts her hand on Nesta’s knee. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. I think. I don’t know.”

“What did he say? Do the children know?” She pulls herself backwards and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, dear. I don’t mean to spring all these questions on you. I just...I’m shocked.”

“I know,” Nesta says. “I am as well.”

“How did he find out? Did he...” Miri hesitates. “Did he read the letters?”

Nesta purses her lips. “I don’t know. He didn’t say. I...didn’t let him talk much. I sent him to the inn.”

Miri nods. Her eyes have narrowed slightly, debating what course of action to take.

“I’m meeting him for lunch today. At Jamal’s. I brought the children here...I don’t know how long I’m going to be gone....”

“Oh, of course, dear,” Miri says. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll just...shall I bring them over to your house after we close, or...?” Miri trails off. Or will you be bringing him into your home Nesta hears.

“Yes,” she says firmly. “Please. Or, I don’t know, if you want to take them to the park, you can. Just,” Nesta pauses to take another deep breath. “I don’t know what to do. About him. Or what to tell them. Or...Zeyn.”

“Ah,” Miri says. “Well.” She pauses. Miri is always so careful with her words, so gentle. “Well, you know your children always come first.”

“I know!”

“I know you know. But you have to remember that it’s important to keep what’s best for you in mind as well...at the very least, to keep you in good form...to keep them in good form.” Miri looks meaningfully at Nesta. “Do you understand?”

Nesta nods. “I do. I just....” Nesta blinks rapidly as, to her horror, she feels her eyes start to brim with tears.

But she’s done crying over him.

“I know,” Miri says softly.

“I don’t know what to do,” she says, putting her face in her hands. “I will always do what’s best for them. But I don’t know what that is here. I mean,” she picks her head up and looks into Miri’s eyes. “I mean, I’ve given them a good life here. And you and Adil and Zeyn have been a part of that...and Leyla...and Samir and Jamal...and Erest and Madam Sabina and Aysel and everyone in this town--” Nesta nearly chokes on the words. She won’t cry. She won’t.

Nesta has worked so hard on being a good mother. And part of that was letting go of all her anger. Children needed joy. She could not give them that if she was hurting. And--this was going to bring back all the pain.

“Oh, dear,” Miri says, moving her chair closer to Nesta and wrapping her arms around her. Nesta leans into her, the stone-like texture of Miri’s deep brown skin always cool.

“I just don’t know what to do,” she says after a few minutes.

“One step at a time,” Miri says soothingly. “You’ll meet him for lunch. You’ll figure out how he’s going to be a part of their lives. You’re not moving back to the Night Court, he probably won’t move here. At least not right now. You’ll figure out where he fits with along the way.”

“I don’t want him to fit alongside me. I have Zeyn.”

Miri doesn’t comment, for which Nesta is grateful. Miri doesn’t know what it is she felt with Cassian years ago, but she knows she doesn’t feel for Zeyn what he so clearly feels for her, something which Nesta always finds herself strangely guilty for.

Zeyn has always been nothing but sweet and good to her and her children. It would be so easy to be with him. Things were always easy with Zeyn.

His and Cassian’s respective presences, their roles in her children’s lives...they would clash now.

But thinking of Zeyn made her wonder: if being with Zeyn fully, openly, completely letting him into their lives and her soul really would be better for her children...and she hadn’t done it...could she do the same with Cassian?

She would soon find out, she expects.

“Please don’t tell anyone about this,” Nesta says, looking up at Miri.

“Of course not,” Miri promises. “Not to anyone.”

Nesta smiles softly in thanks, but feels the anxiousness eating away at her. Sugar Valley is too quiet a town for secrets to stay hidden for long, and with Cassian staying at the inn, meeting her at Jamal’s for lunch, even if it is during the quiet time of the day...with the wings the other townspeople have only seen thrice before....

Well. She’ll have to tell Zeyn soon, that much she knows. But not yet.

---

September 27 - Year of

He knew she had been out the moment he flew back into camp, soaring over the center. He was so in tune to her scent, it jumped out at him immediately.

He guessed she had gone out in search of a drink. He was certain she hadn’t found one. There was no way anyone was going to give her one. He’d made certain of that.

Cassian knew she hated him now. And it hurt him more than he’d ever admit, to her or himself or anyone else. But he knew he was doing the right thing. And she’d see that eventually.

With the drinking, at least. Moving her to Illyria...he wasn’t sure.

He was actually pleased she’d left the house. Even if it was to a bar. Just breathing some fresh air, talking to people...that was good for her. That must have been good for her, right?

He didn’t think she’d last this long without talking to him. He expected the silent treatment, but not for more than a week. He’d been baiting her, but she wasn’t rising to it.

Perhaps now that he’d come back after giving her some space, she’d speak to him. Maybe he’d make her dinner--maybe she’d eat dinner.

His house on the edge of the town stood before him, and Nesta was inside. He could feel her. He could always feel her.

He let himself in and looked around. She was in her room, true, but perhaps she had left signs of leaving it? Dishes in the sink, a book lying on the couch?

But there was nothing. It was like she wasn’t even there.

So he made his way to her bedroom. He hesitated, as he always did, then knocked. “Nesta?” he called.

Silence. But she was there. And whether she liked it or not, he could feel the slight change in her when he said her name. Nothing drastic enough to be able to name, but still. It meant something to her.

“I’m here,” he added, rather unnecessarily. He hoped it might spark a sarcastic reply, but still, she said nothing.

“I was at a neighboring camp,” he said. “There’s talk of rebellion. You know, to overthrow me. And Rhys. Perhaps you’d like to join them? I brought you pamphlets.” He smirked to himself. She didn’t say anything again, but he knew he was irritating her.

Irritated was good. It was passion. It was something--not like the broken, dejected female who stood before him on Solstice--go home, Cassian.

He debated mentioning her little outing, but decided against it. Her pride was probably wounded, and he didn’t want her to hate him more than she already did.

“I’m making a stew,” he said. “Are you hungry?” Of course she was hungry. She was starving herself. She had to be hungry. He knew there was some food that had disappeared from the kitchen--bread, mostly, perhaps a bit of butter--not nearly enough to live on, just barely enough to survive.

He closed his eyes. “Please. Sweetheart. Come eat something.”

He tried everything with her. Every day. A casual conversation, as if she would open the door normally, then cajoling, until that didn’t work either. And then, sometimes, he would beg.

“I don’t....”

Want to watch you waste away, he didn’t say. Want to watch you kill yourself.

He placed his palm on the door. “Please open the door, Nesta.”

He hated himself sometimes. Because every time, he thought she would finally give in. Finally come back to life. Let him help her. And every time, it hurt when she didn’t.

“Just a bit of meat, Nesta. Or maybe some soup? If you want...” he paused. Smiled a bit. “I got something for you.”

He listened hard. Perhaps he could hear her cock her head, or stand. She didn’t, or at least, not loud enough for him to notice.

He pulled out a slim bar wrapped in a deep blue foil. “Smell that? Want some?”

He’d studied Nesta hard enough to know that before she turned to drink, she’d had another vice. A sweet tooth. Chocolate was her favorite.

He supposed it was stupid to expect this to be what got her out of her room and talking to him, but his heart still sunk. “It’s dark. With a berry glaze.” He looked at the wrapper. “I don’t know why you like this stuff so much.”

And there! What was that he sensed?

She did want the chocolate. He said, smug, “Well, I’ll just leave this on the table, then.”

She could get it tomorrow morning, after he left. He’d rather her sit down with him, of course, but putting a bit of sugar in her bloodstream was the main thing.

“I think I’ll be going to more camps soon,” he said. “Because of the rebellion talks. Maybe you can join me sometime. You know, to help quiet them. Or join, like I said. Whichever you’d like.”

With that, he turned and left to the kitchen. He knew he had not made any real progress with her, but knowing she had left the house gave him the illusion he had.

Well. Perhaps she’d eat the chocolate tomorrow. And he’d leave the stew warming for her before he’d leave.

She had to come out eventually. Had to. And if she didn’t, he’d break down the door. Because he’d watched her lose her life once, and he wasn’t going to do it again.

---

October 15 - 4 years after

Once again, Nesta casually manipulates her children by asking them who’s excited about spending their afternoon with Aunt Miri. Adil shoots her a curious look but doesn’t say anything, and, like a coward, she leaves when Zeyn is in the back room.

Nesta makes her way quickly to Jamal’s. Cassian is already sitting at a table and jumps when he sees her walk through the door.

His wings are tucked away and hidden out of sight, mercifully. Still she can tell Jale, the waitress, notices his eyes and hair. She looks at Nesta rather suspiciously, but doesn’t say anything about it as she hands them their menus.

Of course, Nesta can see her eagerly whispering to the cook, Resad, through the kitchen window. Wonderful.

Nesta doesn’t waste anytime. “How did you find me?” Her voice is loud enough for only him to hear.

“Azriel,” he says, matching her pitch.

She should’ve known.

“Have you been spying on me?”

“We’ve been looking for you. We have been--out of our minds--with worry. I--your sisters--” Cassian can’t finish his sentence.

So. They did not read her letters. She had said time and time again where she was.

She had known, in her heart. It still hurt. Even after everything.

She says so anyway, just to be sure. Or to torture herself. “Did you get my letters?”

Sorrow fills his eyes. He moves to stretch out an arm, but think better of it.

“You didn’t read them.”

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move.

And it hurts again.

Her sisters.

Nesta straightens. “Well. It’s your own fault, then, that you didn’t know where I was.”

Cassian releases a shaky breath. “Nesta....”

“All right. We need to make somethings clear.” Nesta stops as Jale brings their meals. “Thank you, Jale,” she says, keeping her voice normal.

Cassian stares at her, shocked.

“What?”

“You--you know her?”

Nesta looks at him. “Yes. I know everyone in this town.”

“You just...you sounded so...” He struggles to find the right word. “Pleasant?”

Her eyes narrow.

“I just meant that you sounded like you like her and you don’t like very many people,” he says hurriedly.

“In Prythian,” Nesta says. “I like people in Sugar Valley just fine.”

He looks away from her then, out the window. Watching her fellow townspeople come and go.

She does like them. She loves it here.

“Right,” she says briskly. “I have rules. Before we begin.”

He snaps his eyes back to her. Nods once. “All right.”

“I never compromise what is best for my children. And neither do you.”

“Yes, of course--”

“And I decide what is best for my children.”

“Yes, yes--”

“So I have full veto power, over everything to do with them. Always.”

“Nesta--”

“Regardless of how much money you give me.”

Cassian swallows. “Nesta, I understand. I...agree to your terms.”

She hadn’t meant to make it sound like war negotiations, but that’s the comparison that she thinks of. “I suppose...that’s all I need to say. For now.” Perhaps, one day, she would ask him why he never wrote back, never even read her letters. But she wasn’t nearly ready to hear that now.

“Can I start?” he blurts out, and his voice goes a little louder than their low tones.

“Keep your voice down,” she snaps. “Yes. You can start.”

“What are their names? How old are they? Can I meet them--tonight? And when can we discuss Velaris? And the money, I need your account number--”

“They’re three,” she interrupts him. “Born on the summer solstice. So nearly three and a half.”

He stares at her open-mouthed. He tries to say something, but he can’t.

“First came Avery,” she says, her voice soft as well as low. “Avery Elfa...most everyone calls her Ava.” She has always loved the name Avery, a favorite heroine from her childhood who has stayed ever-present in her mind since then. Her middle name, Nesta chose as a nod to the girl’s aunts. “She’s so much like you,” she whispers, looking at Cassian but not really seeing him. Seeing her little warrior-heart, so, so much like the male before her.

Cassian’s eyes glisten silver.

“And then Nicky...Nicholas Justin.” Justin was her tribute to Adil; it was what the name meant in the old version of their tongue. And Nicholas...Cassian knew why she had chosen Nicholas.

“Nesta...” he said, his hand slowly inching towards hers.

“He’s so funny,” she says, laughing a little. “He always makes me laugh. He sings all the time. He makes up little songs....

“And then Ollie. Ollison Bailey.” Ollison Bailey was a human name. Ollison, for her father, and then Bailey for her mother’s father, whom she had always been close with. The name sounds odd along with the others, she knows, and she hadn’t even liked it much when she first thought of it, but holding him, looking into his eyes, she had just known.

“Ollie’s such a sweetheart,” she says, half to herself. She doesn’t even notice her choice of words. She glances up at him then quickly looks away.

“Nesta,” Cassian says after a minute of silence. “When can I meet them?”

Nesta sucks in her lower lip. “Tonight,” she says slowly. “Come by the house...at seven. That’s a half an hour before bed.” She hesitates. “What...what do you want them to call you?”

“Call me?” he says blankly.

“Yes.”

Cassian still doesn’t look as if he understands.

“Who should I tell them is coming over?” she prompts.

“Er...Cassian...?”

Nesta raises an eyebrow. “You want them to call you Cassian?”

He straightens, rattling the table a bit. “Oh! Oh. I don’t know.” He looks at her, sheepish. “I...I hadn’t really....”

“Look, are you going to be a constant in their live--?”

“Yes,” he says, before she can even finish the sentence. No hesitation, which she’s pleased to hear. It’s what’s best for her children, after all.

“Well, don’t you think they should know you’re their father?” Nesta takes extra care to keep her voice quiet, barely mouthing the last word.

“Well...yes, but I didn’t realize that you were going to tell them so soon....”

“You don’t want me--”

“No! Yes! Sorry,” he says, lowering his voice at her glare. “Yes, I do, I want them to know. Er, they, they call you Mummy? Right?”

Nesta nods once.

“Well...is it all right if they call me...Appa?”

She shrugs her shoulders slightly, keeping her face blank. “Sure.” But she thinks Mummy and Appa sound nice together. It sounds right.

He says, rather tentative, “It means father. In Illyrian.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. “I know what it means.”

He smirks a little, and her heart skips a beat as he leans back. “Of course you know.”

She hasn’t seen that look in years. She swallows hard.

“Right. Well.” Nesta clears her throat and takes out some bronze coins, which she puts on the table. “Seven. Don’t be late.” And she leaves before he has the chance to say anything.

---

October 21 - 1 year after

Most passengers were asleep as the morning sun rose, coloring the sea beneath them a brilliant, sparkling collage of deep purple and vibrant magenta, but Nesta was wide awake, standing at the bow. Her arms held her shawl tightly around her. It was not yet cold enough for a heavy cloak, but it would be soon, she thought. The continent was colder than the island she had grown up on, on either side of the wall.

Nesta had not seen the continent before that day. She had heard her father’s stories of the wide, sprawling human lands and cities, safe from the ever-looming northern threat of the fae. She had always dreamed of going. Life was better there, for women especially.

But she was not a woman anymore, was she? And nothing could threaten her now.

She knew if she turned around she would be too far away to see Prythian properly, but she did not let herself turn around. She kept her eyes focused ahead on Evisbrooke, the port city of Montesere. A few miles north of Gilameyva, of where she had originally planned to go, when she had seen that flyer in the bar a year ago, but no matter. She was out of Illyria now. That was what mattered.

The ropes on the mast of the ship were golden-brown. The same shade as her sisters’ hair.

She could not think of them. They would be fine. Feyre would understand. She would read her note and understand.

And she would send letters, too. Soon. As soon as she reached Gilameyva. Within the month, surely.

The Monteseren shore grew closer and closer. They’d dock before the pink disappeared from the sky.

And then...she’d be alone.

But she didn’t feel scared. She felt--free. Finally, for the first time in her life, really, truly free.

And didn’t that make it all worth it in the end?

---

October 15 - 4 years after

Cassian has been circling the Sugar Valley skyline for hours--not that there’s much to look at.

It’s a sleepy town. There’s one bar. One bookstore. A small clinic. A nursery, a school. A few parks.

And yet, Nesta has made her home here. Nesta, who burns brighter than the sun, louder than thunder, whose presence is just so much, just so all-encompassing, in this tiny little berry town in Gilameyva.

He had spent the morning--he felt stupid--gathering intel. Listening to the townspeople go about their day and gossip. Nesta’s name had come up a few times, usually along with people he’d come to understand worked alongside her at the bookstore. Zeyn, Adil, Miri, Leyla, Maz. A few others.

And what they say about her is...normal. No fear. Not one mention of that raw, incredible power she had kept locked up inside her. And he hadn’t felt it earlier today, when he had sat across from her. He wonders where it has gone.

She still wears her hair in a coronet...he remembers the few times he has seen it down, perfectly.

Cassian is nearly going out of his mind when he goes back to the inn at six to eat something (he guesses around three times what their usual guests eat; the staff is dumbstruck at his size and his appetite), and he can’t make himself eat slow enough to fill the time.

He decides he can leave at half-past. Perhaps he’ll walk instead of flying....

And he’s there, ten minutes early. So he walks around her little town square, heads back to the neighborhood where the red-roofed houses are, and then he’s walking up the path to her front door, past the toys in the lawn, and then he knocks.

And she answers, and again, she’s the most beautiful female he’s ever seen, Nesta, and it winds him like it does each time.

And they peek out from behind her legs. They’re all in their nightthings, hair damp from their bath.

“Let’s make room,” Nesta tells them, moving aside so he can come in. She closes the door behind him.

He looks down at her, at the children. They all look up at him. He doesn’t know what to do. Where do his hands go? Oh, he should have brought something, shouldn’t he? Presents? Or flowers, for Nesta? Mother above, what is wrong with him?

“Let’s say hello to Appa,” Nesta says, nudging Ava forward.

She’s so beautiful--all the gods, she looks just like her--

“Hello!” Ava says. And she’s not shy at all, not nervous, not worried. She sounds confident, happy.

He smiles. “Hello, Ava.” He crouches down to look her in the eyes.

She giggles and says something. He can’t understand what it is and looks up at Nesta.

She’s trying to hide a smile. “You’re so big.”

“I--what?”

“Avery says you’re so big.”

“Oh,” he says, and he laughs a bit. “I--yes, I’m very tall.”

He looks at Nicky and Ollie, still firmly behind Nesta’s legs. Nicky laughs when he catches his eye.

“Hi, Nicky,” he says. “Hi, Ollie.”

“Hi,” Nicky says, and he stretches out the vowel.

Ollie doesn’t say anything. Just buries his face harder into Nesta’s shin.

“We’re a little shy,” Nesta murmurs to him. “Don’t worry about it. All right,” she says, louder, “why don’t we go show Appa your toys in the living room?”

Ava smiles sweetly up at him and reaches out her hand. He looks to Nesta before taking it and she leads him out of the foyer.

Nesta’s house looks like exactly like the kind of thing he’d imagine for her--except the clear sign of three children, of course. A plush grey couch with red-and-cream throw pillows, a rounded cherry wood coffee table--no sharp edges, he realizes--with toys lightly strewn around, and various other pieces of furniture in the same color scheme. And of course, an overflowing bookcase.

Ava says something to him, leading him to the couch.

“Do you...understand everything they say?” he asks Nesta, after Ava gets irritated and pushes him to sit down.

Nesta’s lip twitches. “Yes. You will, too. It’s easier than you think. Listen. Avery, what’s that over there?” she asks, pointing to something on the far end of the room.

Avery answers her enthusiastically, and while Cassian’s heart speeds up at her excitement, he still can’t make out what she said.

Nesta looks at Cassian. “Oh, that’s your art project?” she says, nodding at him.

Cassian nods slowly. He thinks he’s beginning to understand--their vowels are all correct, but their consonants are more...loose, he guesses?

“Why don’t you show Appa your art projects?” Nesta says. She pulls Ollie into her lap and whispers something to him.

Nicky and Ava disappear, presumably to get more of these art projects, and sure enough, after a few moments, they’re back, proudly displaying bits of paper glued together, paint patterned here and there, sometimes bits of dried foods or rocks or leaves tied on as well.

They chatter non-stop, it seems--Ava, most, Nicky eagerly following her lead, but Ollie remains quiet, sitting on Nesta’s lap, occasionally pulling her head down to whisper to her.

He can barely make out what they’re saying, but he is doing a better job, fifteen minutes in, than he was when he started, and he understands perfectly when Olli says quietly, “Appa come to bed?” He looks up at Nesta and then looks at him.

Nesta’s eyes echo in his face, but with such innocence. And he called him father; the first time any of them has done so...he can’t bring himself to answer.

“Yes,” Nesta says. “Appa will come tuck you into bed. Did you want to show him something of yours, Ollie?”

Ollie shakes his head, but Cassian doesn’t care. His heart is soaring and breaking at the same time.

“All right,” Nesta says, too soon. “Time for bed. Let’s go.”

She keeps Ollie in her arms as she makes her way up the stairs. Ava and Nicky each grab a hand of his and show him the way.

Nicky speaks. Cassian thinks he understands. “You all sleep with a roo?” he says.

“In one room!”

“Oh, in one room, you all sleep in one room.”

Nesta looks over her shoulder. “For now,” she says. “It’s easier. And they like it this way. But we can rearrange the rooms when they’re older. The house is big enough.”

The house feels dwarfed with him inside, and he’s only one full-grown Illyrian male. Plus, he doesn’t like to think of neither Nesta nor the triplets staying here until they’re old enough to want their own rooms, so he doesn’t say anything.

The children’s beds are the same style; in a dark cherry wood like the bookcase and the coffee table downstairs, but the sheets are different. Ava’s in a deep violet, Nicky’s in a royal blue, and Ollie’s in a slate grey Nesta always favored with her gowns.

Night Court colors. And he can’t resist. “I like your bedsheets,” he says to them.

“Mummy let us pick!” Ava says, beaming at him.

He beams back. It feels like proof of his mark on them.

But Nesta doesn’t appear to notice. “Let’s get in bed,” she says.

“My turn to pick,” Nicky says.

“I want to!”

“Avery, you picked last night. It’s Nicky’s turn.” Nesta looks at Cassian. “We do a story before bed. We rotate turns.”

“I want Appa to tell a story,” Nicky says.

Cassian keeps his face blank. “I don’t...think that’s a good idea,” Cassian says under his breath.

Cassian did not grow up with a mother who told him stories, and none of the one's he made for himself are one he thinks Nesta would appreciate the children hearing.

She understands. “Maybe another night. I’m telling the story tonight.”

Nicky says, “Tomorrow?”

Nesta shakes her head. “Tomorrow.” She looks at Cassian, then mouths, That means the future. She smiles a little--at him.

He smiles back.

“I want Jack,” Nicky says, yawning.

Nesta sits down across the children in their beds, and Cassian carefully sits down next to her. He watches her face as she tells them to story, watches her smile a bit before they laugh, because she knows when they’re going to. Watches the way she extends her neck ever so slightly when he talks....

Mother, all these things about her...he’d missed them so much. He’d missed her so much. And now, now she was standing up to tuck the children in, and soon he’d have to go, wouldn’t he? And he’d miss her all over again.

But Cassian doesn’t think about that as he stands up. Nesta looks so comfortable bending down and giving each child a kiss, each a little different--she calls Ava ladybug, she tickles Nicky’s stomach, she whispers something to Ollie. And then she moves over to the door and looks at him.

His mouth goes dry. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. And then she waves her hand over to the children and he slowly, slowly approaches Ava’s bed.

“Good night, Ava,” he whispers.

“Good night, Appa,” she says. She smiles up at him.

Feeling everything in the air, he bends down to kiss the top of her head.

Warmth radiates from her tiny body. Her hair is so soft, her skin too, and he wants to crush her against him, suddenly, and he hates himself for this being the first time, and he moves quickly to Nicky’s bed before he does something he shouldn’t. But then it’s the same with Nicky, and the same with Ollie, and his throat is burning when he and Nesta leave the room.

She leads him into the kitchen and sits down at the head of the table.

“So,” she says.

“Thank you,” he says, before she can say anything else. “Thank you--Nesta--so much--”

“All right,” she says, looking rather alarmed. “That’s...all right.” She hesitates. “You...were fine.”

“I was so nervous.”

“I know. But they...were excited. When I told them that you were coming.”

“Were they...did they ask why I hadn’t...”

“No,” she says. “They will. One day. But they’re little. They don’t understand. So you don’t have to worry about that conversation for a few years.” Nesta falls silent. There’s something she wants to say but doesn’t.

Cassian takes a deep breath. “Thank you so much for letting me come.”

Nesta looks at him wearily. “I said it’s all right.”

He almost snorts. That’s Nesta’s way of saying you’re welcome, he supposes. “I will bring good into their lives. I promise.”

Nesta looks away as she nods. “I know. Otherwise I wouldn’t let you come.”

He takes a deep breath. “Well. I think that having more people who love them is always a good thing.”

At this Nesta looks at him. She looks relieved. “Yes, I think so too.”

He smiles slightly. “You agree?”

“Yes.” She doesn’t smile, exactly, but she looks almost happy.

“You’ll bring them to Velaris? To visit?”

Nesta starts. “What? No, that’s not what I meant!”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “Then what did you mean?”

Nesta bites her lip. “I meant...you. In addition to Sugar Valley.”

“Well, I meant your sisters,” he says, and she flinches. “And my brothers,” he adds, which he guesses was not the smartest thing to say by her low, unamused laugh.

“Look,” he says, before she can, “having the High Lord and Lady of Night care for your children is something every parents should want.”

“My children are Gilameyvan. High Lords and Ladies mean nothing here. Our councilhead cares for them just fine.”

“Well, they are your sisters. And they love you. And they’re--sorry.”

Nesta closes her eyes tightly. “Enough.”

“They want to see you,” he says, his words rushed. “And the children, and make sure you’re okay, and they’ve got my blood same as your so it’s only fair that they meet my family too.” He blurts the last bit out.

Nesta opens her eyes, and there’s the blazing power.

But after a moment, it’s gone. Just like that.

“I am not taking the children to Velaris,” she says through gritted teeth. “Or anywhere in Prythian.”

Or Illyria, she means. He forces himself to stay calm. Nesta has been badly hurt and is obviously not going to bring the children to the Night Court tomorrow.

“Your sisters want to visit,” he says, knowing it’s true. “Elain cried.” He hopes that’ll strike Nesta in the same place it would years ago.

Perhaps it does, because she shuts her eyes tightly again. “I said no.”

“Will you think about it?”

“No,” she says, but he knows she’s lying. It’ll be all she’ll think about tonight, and for that he feels rather guilty.

“I didn’t mean to upset you further,” he says. “I really...I only want what’s best for all of you.”

“Do you remember what I said?” Her temper is rising. “I decide what is best.”

“I remember,” he says. “Just. Decide correctly.”

Nesta sucks in a breath. “You can leave now.”

“Sweetheart, please--”

“Do not call me that--”

“I’m sorry! Please, I’m sorry,” he says desperately. “I don’t want to end this arguing. Please, we’ve had a good day, haven’t we?” His children called him Appa, so it’s damn near the best in his life.

Actually, it probably is.

“Well, maybe we should quit while we’re ahead.”

“Okay,” he says, quietly. “I’ll go. But remember...” he swallows. “No matter what you decide...Ava and Nicky and Ollie will always be considered of the Night Court.”

Nesta flinches.

“That grants them Rhys’ protection,” he says softly. “That’s a good thing.”

“I can protect them.”

“But this is more.”

“Well, they also inherit all Rhysand’s enemies, did you ever think about that?”

Now he flinches. Yes, he had. How many cities has he razed, his own people destroyed, all while knowing the only person who would answer for it was him? And now....

“All the more reason to keep them better protected,” Cassian finally says. “Enemies won’t care if you hate Rhys or not.”

Nesta is quiet. “Don’t you dare bring them here. Ever.”

“I won’t,” he says, heart sinking. “But....”

“Not now. You should go.”

Perhaps the devastation he feels is pathetically written on his face, because Nesta softens almost imperceptibly and says, tone just a bit gentle, “You can...come by tomorrow. At five. We’ll be here.”

Cassian looses a breath he doesn’t remember holding. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Do not tell them about their...your family.”

“I won’t. What if they ask?”

Nesta rolls her eyes. “They’re three. They won’t ask. Avery and Ollie only just realized I have a name other than Mummy and they still can’t always remember what it is.”

It’s so unexpected, he laughs out loud. A real laugh. And her mouth wavers.

Not a smile. He knows how hard he’ll have to work for that.

But he did it before. He can do it again--he has to.

He will.

---

Chapter Four