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nestasgalpal · 6 months

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Can't think straight when we are together Pt. 3 [Nessian]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Nesta’s Gal Pal masterlist | AO3

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Have a good life.

Four words confirmed what Nesta had already anticipated: She wasn't worth the effort. His friends disliked her, and Cassian wasn't interested enough in her to be the odd one out.

He had been so insistent for months, then moved on as soon as she called out his friends.

"Why the fuck does he want a girlfriend if he already has in his life all the people he is willing to care about?" She later complained on the phone to her friends. They didn't have an answer for her, only more stupid questions, like, "Didn't you want to end things first back in october?", or "Does that mean you wanted him to keep trying?"

He had left the room after Nesta made clear her disinterest in what he had to offer. He had left without complaining, just like he promised he would, and it was precisely that what kept Nesta awake the whole night, looking at the ceiling as if the answers she now needed were hidden in the plaster.

"Is it me?" She wondered. "Maybe it's me who doesn't have anything to offer and that's why I'm not good enough for him to take the risk?"

Nesta tried fixing the hole in her heart by telling herself she was better off without a guy like him in her life, but soon discovered that it was no use because Cassian not wanting her wasn't the issue —It was way bigger than that, bigger than a hot guy breaking up with her. Gosh, they weren't even together.

Cassian's presence in the landscape of her trauma was almost anecdotal, yet the way his actions had opened Pandora's Box made the incident remain in the back of her mind like a splinter on her finger.

Hurting with a realization that wouldn't go away even in her sleep, Nesta spent the next month sitting at the library, surrounded by a wall of notes and books that luckily required all her time. Finals were the only thing on her mind from the second she woke up to the delightful moment she got into bed, always later than she should. Her sisters were in the same situation, so there was always coffee ready in the morning. Elain studied at home and out loud, often taking walks around the house as she went over her notes for the walls to hear. Feyre had been staying at her boyfriend's lately and only came back when she needed fresh clothes. Clothes that, Nesta realized, once were gone, never came back to her wardrobe.

Out of the three, Nesta was the only one who would be graduating this semester, though. She could feel the pressure. Up until last month, she had been thriving from it. Knowing her mother was counting on her to become a surgeon had always made her proud, the blind trust in her abilities making her grow confident. Knowing her father had already put enough money aside to open a clinic in the city for her had always acted as fuel for that overachieving fire burning inside her.

School was what Nesta Archeron had always been the best at, and the only thing on her mind throughout the years as others dedicated their free time to attend open mic nights at a bar and go on hikes. Or whatever people her age did.

Never before had the pressure to be the best been a burden. Now, not only could she feel it wearing her down, but it was making her insecure.

That morning Nesta looked in the mirror after her hair was braided and asked herself the dreadful question that had started her spiraling: If these exams proved her wits weren't deserving of praise, would there still be anything in her to love? What else did she have?

As she put the pink pencil case in her bag, Nesta's tired brain poked fun at her. It caged the question inside and refused to let go of it. Mechanically, Nesta followed her morning routine, muscle memory doing most of the work for her, as her mind wasn't willing to cooperate. No, this morning it had developed a will of its own and refused to do anything but torment her, force her to entertain the thought that, once she failed —and she would— and everyone realized she wasn't the genius they had painted her to be, then her friends wouldn't be interested in spending time with her anymore. Her thoughts on the books they read would lack their usual edge, and she would be no fun to hang out with. Her parents wouldn't explicitly mention how disappointed they were, but they would for sure start disregarding her, like they did with Feyre and Elain already.

And there would be no one left to love her because she wouldn't be worth it. Not loving, not defending, not even liking.

The shrill sound of a new message was Nesta's way out of her own head. She had been looking into her coffee like a crazy person. She was lucky the house was empty already, safe for Elain on the second floor reading her neat notes.

Babe, we're outside.

Nesta left the coffee on the counter, grabbed her bag and went out in a rush. Since when did she have trouble making it on time to places?

Emerie waved at her from the passenger's seat, and Gwyn blew her a kiss from behind the wheel when Nesta got in the car. "Did you sleep through your alarm?" She asked, the engine coming to life.

"Yes, sorry. I didn't sleep that well." That was the closest thing to an explanation they would ever get from Nesta, so without further ado, the three made their way to the library in Gwyn's beat-up car with pop music at full volume as their soundtrack.

After one hour of silence between books, Nesta asked, to no one in particular, "Why are you my friends?"

Through the pile of paper, Gwyn and Em exchanged a wary look. "Because you are hot, and I was hoping it would be contagious." Emery tried to joke. But that was the wrong thing to say, and before she could apologize, Nesta was visibly on the verge of tears. What was wrong with her? She never cried. The lack of sleep was ruining her psyche as much as the overthinking.

Both girls got up and circled the table to get to her, Gwyn's arm immediately wrapped around her shoulders, Nesta's breath now erratic as she did her best to contain a sob. "Babe, what's going on?" She dried the first tear streaming down Nesta's face. "You are so beautiful, so funny, so smart, so ..."

"I am not smart, I am stupid."

This time, it was a puzzled look what they shared. Emery sat on the table and cupped Nesta's face with both hands. "You are smart." She argued. "And I don't just mean it in a cheering-you-up type of way. I mean literally. As in the actual school ranking. You are number one and have been so for the last two years." She gave her friend a tentative smile. "You are smart as shit, Nesta."

The physical contact was overstimulating her. It was suffocating. Nesta gave a few sudden shifts in her chair so that they gave her some space, needing air more than anything. She tried calming her breath, unsuccessfully. Nesta was starting to have a panic attack in the middle of the library. "I can't keep being smart." She cried. "I hate it. I can't do it. I can't do anything."

Gwyn and Emery gave her room to talk and made sure there were no people nearby that could eavesdrop their best friend's meltdown. The coast was clear. Nesta saw and appreciated it, although no one mentioned it. "I can't keep pretending I have anything to offer. I can't do it." She broke down.

"Do you mean the finals?" Emery asked, tentatively.

"I mean everything! I don't want to do anything anymore. If I keep doing well, then people will expect me to do more next time. And to do it better and for longer. I —there is just this pressure..." The sob finally came at the same time she tried to breathe, and it caught in her throat. "I feel like the longer it takes me to finally fail, the worse the fall will be. Does that make sense?"

She saw her friends nod, and then silence reigned again between the bookshelves. The three had often talked about the gifted kid curse years ago, when they met in their first semester of college and jokingly agreed that, statistically, not everyone carrying around the label could actually be so. It had been all in good fun, a way to lighten the demanding projections the three had made about their future. Only now it was about to be proven true, as out of the three, Nesta could now see herself falling behind the rhythm.

Gwyn knew not to touch her. She pulled her chair closer so Nesta could whisper and still be heard. Emerie reached around the table to her own backpack and picked up a water bottle she then offered to her best friend, who was silently allowing the tears to run down her face. Nesta took it with shaking hands but didn't drink from it.

"I want to put an end to it." At their worried looks, Nesta explained that she didn't crave her own downfall, which put the other two at ease. "But lately," she told them, "I've been wondering if I really want to keep climbing up. The top of the mountain is in sight, but once there, the only direction forward will be down." Emery was the first to protest her argument and tried quoting a Miley Cyrus song as proof of her statement. Unfortunately, Nesta didn't consider herself a journey-enjoyer. She had always been goal-driven and nothing else. "I want to stop now, when my options still offer a chance of improvement in the future. There is up, there is down, there is..."

A hand taking the water bottle from her as a safety precaution cut her speech short. Gwyn's voice was soft as velvet. "I get it, babe. I know it must be hard to have people counting on you to always do good and giving you no margin of error." Nesta focused on soothing herself as her friend spoke. "It is unfair of people to deprive you of a chance to fail, but if we are addressing this seriously, I have to be honest. And the truth is, Nesta, that you are the one demanding that excellence from yourself." Nesta gave her a frown that would have silenced anyone else. But not Gwyn, of course. "You want to be your own person, right? You want people to stop expecting things from you that only add pressure, because they have no right to determine your path or your pace. I get that."

She made a pause to look for the right words, not wanting to start a fight but deciding for the three of them, this was the moment of truth. Now or never, she had to say it, and Nesta let her know she was ready for the reality check.

"But you can't ruin things for yourself on purpose just to prevent a hypothetical failure in the future. That is absurd. Because it may never come, and then you will be the only one to blame for never reaching your full potential." She rolled her eyes, then added, "And self-sabotaging so people become disappointed in you and leave instead of facing them, that is a cop out, and you know it."

Before Nesta could defend her approach, it was Emerie's time to get real with her. "Honestly, Nesta," Em waited for her to look in her direction to make sure she understood what she was about to say. "I am amazed you grew tired of people wanting you to do great before you had enough of yourself obstructing your own life."

That, Nesta didn't expect. "What do you mean?"

"It is unfair of your parents and teachers to demand so much of you, and I hate to see you break like this. But Gwyn is right, making yourself trip first is only hurting you."

Nesta saw herself in that bathroom trying to part ways with someone she liked just in case he never got to be what she wanted. Before she grew too attached and he broke her heart. Before the height made it impossible to survive the fall.

They were right, she had wanted to end things first. Cassian hadn't given up on her whe she made up her mind to leave the boat, scared of the hypothetical future. Nesta knew that night in October that Cassian didn't understand why she refused to make things public. When he tried reaching her again through Feyre and inviting her to his game, like Nesta had implied she wanted, she panicked and asked Em's closeted neighbor to go with her.

It didn't dissuade him, because why would it, and hours later, she was under him in her own bed.

Tired of going in circles and never fully escaping his charm, Nesta chose to yield her fears as a weapon, painting them as a reality he couldn't possibly change. She had tried her best to put him between a rock and a hard place —to corner Cassian by preying on his insecurities, so he would panic too and leave.

"Why don't you take a few days to yourself, love? To disconnect. Then come back and do your best. Whether it is enough or not, you won't know until it is done." Nesta tried to argue that she wouldn't know where to go, but her friend was quick to stop her. "Take all the time you need to find it, but please, don't quit on yourself just because people are idiots. Be brave and try, even if it is scary."

"Sometimes the only way out is through." The redhead reasoned. "If you can't get into the right mind space for these exams, it's fine. There will be new opportunities. Just don't ruin your chances on purpose. That feeling of control you crave can end up holding you back. I promise taking risks won't kill you."

It would have been great to have a counter to that remark, but the reality of her life was that she hadn't had a good night's sleep in the last month and had just started crying in a public library out of pure stress. She needed time off to reflect on everything —the past few weeks and her life before that. Everyone thought she was smart, but Nesta knew she had nothing on Gwyn and Em, who always knew what to do and say. Nesta accepted the hug they offered, a spark of hope in her chest, promising that if these two beautiful souls saw in her something worth loving, then it must exist. It must be there, inside her, hiding in a secret place she ought to find.

When Nesta arrived home, it was time for dinner, and she had it alone. The house was empty, and it stayed like that until hours later, when a car briefly stopped in their driveway and one of her sisters got inside. Nesta was in the backyard, laying on the grass like a dead body, confident no one would come out looking for her there. People in this family always had things to do on their own, so realizing Nesta was home by her keys in the hall would never push her parents or sisters to call for her in hopes of spending time together. That was not how the Archerons worked.

Apparently, today was about proving her wrong.

By the way her feet touched the grass, Nesta knew it was Feyre approaching. It was that and nothing else that gave away her presence in the backyard, as her sister didn't speak a word, she simply lay down next to Nesta in silence.

"What do you want?" Nesta asked abruptly.

Both sisters had their eyes fixed on the pitch-black sky. They hadn't shared a moment alone like this probably since they were kids, and it felt odd. Nesta worried they were about to role-play a sisterly bond they had long left behind.

"I need advice." Her sister said instead. "I think I am dropping out of college."

Nesta didn't expect that. "Why? I thought you wanted to be an artist."

"I don't need a degree for that. I already have galleries buying my paintings and clients commissioning them."

Still, to Nesta, not finishing her art degree was such a stupid idea. "Mom and dad will hate that. They will cut you off." Feyre laughed, and it broke the quiet of the backyard. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just funny that's the thing you are worried about." She answered. "Not that I need the formal education or that a degree could be a good thing to have in case I ever need other career paths." Nesta frowned as Feyre went on with her reasoning. "I've already discussed it with Rhys. He will probably be drafted for the NFL at the end of the month... And let's be honest, even if he wasn't, money will never be an issue with him. I can move my art studio to wherever he goes, see new places, new faces, and paint them." When she turned her face towards Nesta, she was smiling, her eyes shining even in the dark. "What do you think?"

Nesta's frown hadn't moved an inch. "Do you really want to know?" Feyre nodded. "I think it is risky. You never know what can happen. To your career, with Rhysand..."

"That's the most exciting part!" Feyre argued. "And I am so ready to see what life has in store for me. For better or worse."

If confidence had ever been an issue for her little sister, Nesta never found out. She had always been ready for adventure, looking for trouble if only that meant going against the current. Nesta didn't understand how she could be so careless. So carefree. But right now, Nesta was in no position to judge, as she usually would. She didn't have it in herself to give Feyre the advice she was asking for, as the only thing she could do at the moment, as they lay in the grass, was envy her determination.

"Then you already know what to do." Nesta concluded.

Feyre sighed. "I know you don't approve it, but..."

"I do." Nesta corrected. "I think it will be good for you. Liberating."

"That is all I want."

With a smile, Feyre looked up again, happy.

A light was lit inside the house, throwing shades over them. Someone had arrived, probably their parents. Neither said anything for a while, enough time for the new people in the house to go upstairs and change clothes, then go back down into the kitchen. Feyre rubbed her eyes, making time. She then stood up and informed Nesta of her plans: she would tell their parents now. If things went right, by the end of the month she would be leaving. If they didn't take it well, though, she would be gone tonight. "I already have a bag packed, and most of my things are already at Rhys'."

Nesta felt the right thing to do after such a confession would be to hug her little sister goodbye, but she couldn't stomach the physical contact. Especially in such an emotional moment. She hoped Feyre could read her eyes in the dim light, but it may have been too long since Feyre and her last confided in one another, and the ability could be lost. In any case, Feyre got up.

"Nesta." Her sister called one last time, halfway to the door. "You can leave too, you know? Their feelings are not more important than yours."

Her words hit Nesta right through the heart, and before she knew it, she had gotten on her feet as well, and her arms were around Feyre, nesting her tightly. "I will miss you." Her shoulder became wet where Feyre's face touched it, and so she squeezed herder to make sure her sister left there all the tears and only the joy from before was left in her body. "I hope you are happy, wherever you go."

"I will be." Feyre promised. "And I hope you find your place as well, wherever it is."

They parted ways, and Nesta waited outside for what felt like forever, listening to the screaming inside the house as if it wasn't her family coming apart. Once again, a light upstairs was turned on, then off. Footsteps coming down, a door being closed violently, and then a car engine drafting away were the last evidence that this place had ever been Feyre Archeron's home.

When Nesta went back to her room, the first thing she did was take a hot shower. Hot enough that her skin turned pink, and at some point the heat stopped being comforting. She washed her hair and her face, then took good care of her body before jumping in her pajamas. She went to get into bed, and that's when she finally spotted the white card over her pillow, a note stuck to it. It was from Feyre.

I was supposed to have a girls' trip with Mor, but it's now cancelled. It's a spa weekend, you should go and treat yourself ;)

Nesta gasped when she turned the card around and saw the spa's logo. It was a luxury experience, all inclusive, and paid for. In the card, by this weekend's date, was the time for a dinner reservation under the name Archeron.

She didn't have to look for excuses to justify her decision to go. Nesta wanted to. She had had enough; she had been through too much for too little in return. This weekend, she would do one thing for herself and actually try to enjoy her time.

The last thought in her mind as she fell asleep was a jittery rush —the thrill of finally having decided to love herself.

#nesta archeron #nesta #nessian #cassian #cassian acotar #nessian fanfic #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #cassian x nesta #nesta x cassian

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

Text

Part One ¦ Part Two ¦ Part Three ¦ Part Four ¦ Part Five ¦ Part Six ¦ Part Seven ¦ Part Eight ¦ Part Nine ¦ Part Ten ¦ Part Eleven ¦ Part Twelve ¦ Part Thirteen ¦ Part Fourteen

Epilogue (Thank you to everybody who has read along with this - I appreciate it massively! I hope you've enjoyed.)

Slow. That was the mantra. Slow.

Any slower and Cassian might explode.

Their first moments together had consisted of a bath where Nesta hid her body then they had fallen asleep on the bed for a few hours. When Cassian had awoken, Nesta was gone. His heart had lurched with panic until he found her enjoying a very late breakfast at the table with her sisters and Lucien. He took a moment to admire the scene; his beautiful mate never letting Lucien Vanserra apologise for holding a knife to her throat. Every time the male tried to speak, he was shushed or clipped or spoken over. She was as sharp as steel, all bite and edges. Cassian loved her.

But he really was going to explode soon if he couldn’t have her.

It took coaxing, but Nesta did share his bed each night though only to sleep and her cheeks still dotted with pink when she entered the room as if it were a scandal.

‘You haven’t even started the frenzy yet,’ Azriel said with bewilderment.

‘It’s not like I’m not trying,’ Cassian replied, watching Nesta lead Feyre through the library to collect a book.

They spent hours kissing then Nesta was curl up to sleep and Cassian would lay as still as a tomb stone trying not to combust. Soon, if Nesta so much as touched his knee, he might come in his pants. Showers were taken with cold water, he said prayers to the Mother constantly to distract his brain. If Rhys ever sent him to Illyria, he’d be too out of focus to do anything worthwhile.

‘Does she actually know you are mates?’

‘Surely she feels the bond.’

Azriel rubbed his temples. ‘She is mortal. She doesn’t have any idea what is happening. Cassian, you prick, you need to speak to her.’

It was a strange conversation to have. It felt like explaining the fundamentals of life. Cassian had to track right back to the formation of Prythian itself and the magnitude of the Cauldron. Nesta pressed her hands together, taking it all in with a sceptical expression.

‘Faerie magic has bound us together forever. I bound us together without realising. Because I fed you.’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’ It cut Cassian in two to hear how clinically she spoke as if the bond meant nothing to her. It was all he could think about, this all-consuming need for her. ‘We’re not even married.’

‘Do you want to get married?’

Nesta gaped at him. ‘That was the worst proposal I have ever heard.’

This impossible female.

Cassian grabbed a slice of bread from the table and gnawed at it until it resembled a ring. Like the mortals did, he got down onto one knee. ‘Nesta Archeron, will you marry me?’

‘That was the proposal? That’s all I get?’

Cassian heaved himself to his feet. ‘So, that was a no?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ she snipped. Nesta took the mauled chunk of bread from him and slipped it onto her finger. ‘Although you will need to replace my ring every time it grows mould or gets soggy. Or if birds start pecking it.’

***

Feyre was not adjusting well to Velaris. A pretty city didn’t suit her, she was more used to getting her hands dirty and running wild with boys like Isaac Hale. Nesta had tried to help her grow more comfortable with activities like reading or needlework to occupy the time, but Feyre was more used to throwing a knife or climbing a tree.

More often, she sulked alone in her rooms, lamenting the life they left behind. As soon as it was safe, Feyre could return to the village. Rhysand had promised her as much and even would buy her a more comfortable house. Nesta had tried to explain to her that a return to the village with wealth would make her the prime target for eligible bachelors to descend upon then she really would be forced to be the dainty wife.

And then, one day, a break through came. They had tried taking Feyre into the city, to cafes and restaurants to try new food, offered to take her flying but she balked at the heights involved, Elain roped her into gardening alongside Lucien, Nesta had tried to find books for her. It was Rhysand who managed to find a way to reach Feyre. Painting sparked her interest until it became an inferno. A whole room had been cleared out solely to be her studio as she learnt. He found teachers for her. He scoured Velaris to bring her different kinds of paint and canvases. Hours and hours would be spent there, blanketing every surface Rhys supplied with blocks of colour. She’d forget to eat if somebody didn’t drag her out each day. When Feyre emerged, green stained the ends of her hair or blue was smeared across her cheek.

Nesta was able to breathe a little easier once Feyre settled. She wouldn’t go near Amren with her strange eyes and glasses of what Nesta suspected was blood. Mor and Azriel would spend time with Feyre – likely out of duty to their high lord – but the man himself was happy to try his hand at painting too in between his duties. Sometimes, Nesta would go to her sister, but hear her laughing and speaking with Rhysand so she’d return to her own sanctuary and leave them in peace.

Once, Nesta had even seen them in the library together. Feyre had always struggled with reading. She said the letters moved around the page or flipped when she tried to read them. She could be defensive about it. Didn’t like when others knew. But Rhysand seemed to be trying to help her which meant a lot.

‘Are they friends as well?’

‘Mates,’ Cassian corrected as he slipped his arms around her body then rested his chin on her head. ‘I don’t know. You don’t know until the bond snaps. You want her to stay here?’

‘Of course, I do; she’s my sister. She’d have a better life here. I haven’t seen either of them smile so much since before we lost our money.’

The wedding would be soon for them, thank goodness, as Nesta had a one-track mind. It was only her stern morals stopping her from locking the bedroom door with Cassian inside and not emerging for days. Even now, feeling his body behind hers made her knees feel weak.

‘Did Elain ever tell you she dreamt of Lucien?’

‘Certainly not. I thought she was smitten with Graysen.’

‘I suppose seeing him as part of the hunt for the witch in the woods turned her off of him.’

***

‘Quite frankly, I want you nowhere near my city. You have options, Lucien. Do not think I am not benevolent.’ Rhys languished in his chair, doing a very good job of pretending he was completely bored by Lucien’s presence. Or he might not have been acting. ‘The first is that I tear through your flimsy mental shields and remove any traces of my city then dump in you in Spring. Or you could remain here for eternity.’

‘I might still push him from the roof,’ Amren supplied.

‘The first, of course the first.’

Rhys winked. ‘I thought as much. Poor Elain will be devastated.’

‘You wouldn’t remove my memories of them.’

After her initial obsession with Lucien, they thought she might have grown bored after a day or two. But Elain still followed him like a shadow, smiling at all of his jokes, sharing every meal at his side like a diligent keeper. Lucien had warmed to her quickly too and could be seen helping her to prepare flowerbeds for spring so both had hands black from soil or they’d talk easily over a cup of tea until both were yawning and Nesta escorted her sister to bed. The male was not as bad as they thought. Beron had exiled him after carving out his eye simply because his youngest had played a trick and wasted his best barrel of wine. Cassian wouldn’t ever forgive the male for attempting to harm Nesta, but he swore he’d panicked in front of Amren and just wanted safety. He was tolerable, Cassian supposed.

‘And run the risk of the Archerons being hurt when you scurry back to your master?’

‘But Elain is my.’ He cut himself off.

‘What is she, Lucien?’

No bond had snapped yet, but it seemed to be a waiting game. They all expected it to happen at any moment. Lucien and Elain were already finishing each other’s sentences; they had developed a harmony in such a short space of time where they moved in synchronisation with each other. It didn’t seem possible for another mating bond to snap with a mortal – but maybe the Archerons were different.

‘You wouldn’t be so cruel.’

Rhys examined his nails. ‘Wouldn’t I?’

‘You could always denounce your ties to Spring and pledge allegiance to the Night Court.’

Perhaps if the suggestion was offered up by anyone other than Amren, Lucien might have been more inclined to agree. He was still terrified of the female. One look from her could quell him entirely.

‘That’s not fair.’

‘Return to Spring,’ Rhys said, ‘If it’s meant to be, you’ll find each other again. In this life or the next.’

‘Elain’s not immortal.’ Lucien’s voice was wracked with pain. ‘She doesn’t have the same luxury of time as we do. Rhysand, this isn’t fair.’

‘Decide what’s most important to you – your loyalty to Spring or a future with Elain.’

They left Lucien to dwell on it in the library, and sure enough, seconds later, his shadow was entering it inviting him to eat lunch with her, with a kind smile brightening her lovely face.

‘We don’t really want him in our court, do we?’ Mor could not move past her revulsion of his older brother.

Rhys’ face twitched into a smile. ‘Doesn’t Lucien look familiar to you?’

‘He looks like a snake,’ Mor said, ‘he’s a Vanserra.’

‘Is he?’ Rhys winked. ‘We’ll let him stay for the wedding. Maybe the declaration of love will make the bond snap then I’m sure it will sway his opinion.’

***

The wedding planning was a nightmare. How could Nesta think about frilly table cloths when all she wanted was for Cassian to bend her over the table? They had set the wedding for two weeks’ time which apparently would be plenty of time – and would motivate them to plan it quicker.

Doubts were creeping in. Cassian had stopped his over-familiar touches, stopped sitting practically in her lap or pawing at her. At night, he had begun to hesitate before kissing her, offering a chaste peck instead then would lay like one in a coffin with his hands crossed across his body, staring up at the ceiling taking deep breaths.

‘Is this a punishment? Or have your affections changed so readily?’ Nesta sat up in the bed then leaned over him to light a candle.

Cassian clamped his hands over his eyes rather than seize the opportunity to peer at her breasts in her scooped nightgown. She had specifically picked the most outrageous night clothes she could find when Mor had taken them shopping in Velaris. And still Cassian was not touching her. It wasn’t right for Nesta to make the first move. He was the man. He should be the one touching her.

‘We are waiting until we are married,’ Cassian said through gritted teeth.

Nesta let out a little whine. ‘But. But we will be married soon. And we are faerie friends.’

‘Mates,’ he groaned

Nesta straddled his lap then prised his hands away. ‘Why won’t you look at me? Am I hideous?’

‘Mother hold you. Mother carry you. Mother take you to the eternal land-’

‘Are you praying?’

‘I have to,’ he rasped, his hazel eyes would look at anything but her.

Nesta swallowed. ‘You don’t love me.’

‘It is because I love you that I am clinging to this last thread of sanity so I don’t lock us in this room for a year.’

Heat bloomed up her neck along with a sense of pride. ‘You want to bed me?’

‘Witch, I wanted to bed you the first night I saw you. Stop wiggling on my lap.’

‘Like this?’ She asked rotating her hips in a slow circle.

‘Sweetheart, stop. If you carry on, I won’t be held accountable.’

There was a fire inside of her that could not be quenched. She needed him. Had needed him for a long time. ‘What will you do to me?’

Cassian inhaled through his nose. ‘Nes, you wanted to wait until marriage.’

‘No, I didn’t. I just wanted to ensure we were engaged and that you would marry me. I’ve been waiting for you to touch me.’

She could not tell if Cassian was about to cry. His face certainly passed through a wide range of emotions in a short space of time. ‘Say it.’

Nesta ran a finger against his bare chest. ‘Touch me.’

***

Cassian was a starving male at a banquet, a pauper in a treasure vault. He didn’t know where to touch Nesta first. His body was convulsing already in anticipation. Slow, he reminded himself.

First, he tossed away her obscene scrap of a night gown so she was naked before him. His tongue brushed against the seam of her mouth then Cassian moved to her breasts. They filled his hands and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of them endlessly. The skin was soft beneath his lips, her darkened nipples already peaked.

He lay her down to the blankets then slowly kissed along her inner thigh. She tasted of sweet vanilla and jasmine petals. Cassian paused to look upon her sex. It called to him, the scent dizzying. His tongue parted her, stroking against the soft skin with tender touches before pressing further in.

At Nesta’s deep moan of pleasure, his heart and soul fell into her. His mate, claimed at long last.

With reverent touches and delicate kisses, Cassian explored his mate. The drive wasn’t solely for pleasure, more to lay claim to her. He wanted every male in Prythian to know that she was his. Each primal sound that tore from Nesta bolstered Cassian’s enthusiasm.

Her thighs clamped around his head, each clench of them more powerful than the last as her orgasm built. The only sounds in the room were Nesta’s moans and the sound of his tongue lapping against her sex.

Cassian continued through Nesta’s trembling. He had to be careful with her, he knew, but she had so readily taken two fingers. The ring of muscles clenched around them as her back frequently lifted itself off the bed. He crooked them faster, driving them in and out in time with her ragged breathing.

Tremors rolled through Nesta’s body as she finally gave in and came. Cassian’s cock pulsed with her moans. Her cries were a symphony, the way her entire body shook with her climax was a gift from the Mother herself. So beautiful. All his.

Cassian winced as he eased off of his knees.

‘What are you smirking at?’

‘You’re moving like an old man.’ Nesta lay back on the pillows with her breasts on full, glorious display.

‘I am old. I’m five hundred and thirty-seven.’

Nesta patted the space beside him. ‘Come here then and I’ll take care of you.’

She steeled her nerves then a hand clasped around the shaft of his cock. Her touch was curious, testing all the ways to make his hips jerk. With how tightly-wound Cassian was at the moment, he surprised himself when he didn’t come at the first brush of her fingers against him.

Her hand moved in a steady motion, gripping his cock tighter at the base then loosening near the top. Once Nesta had found her rhythm, she twisted her wrist at the end or pressed her thumb against the head. It was bliss to watch her. Her fingers explored just as much as his own had done to her. The soft touches had Cassian shifting on the spot, driving his hips upwards into her hand.

Then Nesta took him against her lips. Her lips nuzzled against the underside of the tip, kissing it sweetly. It sent a jolt up his spine and the dam burst.

Before he could stop it, a streak of cum jetted across her face – but Nesta, his wonderful mate, enclosed her mouth around the head of his cock and sucked down every drop spilling from it.

‘I don’t think I could have waited another two weeks,’ he breathed, flopping back onto the pillows. 'It won't always be that fast. I promise.'

Nesta pushed back his black hair from his face then kissed his forehead.

‘You want to stop?’ He asked.

‘Absolutely not. That wasn’t nearly enough.’

***

There was a driving need to have Cassian inside of her. Nesta knew she would not be able to think straight until she did. She straddled his lap again to give herself the illusion of control. She was fully spread open across his massive, muscled thighs. The black tattoos stood out on his toned chest, so Nesta allowed herself the chance to kiss her way along them, imagining a younger version of Cassian fighting his way to a mountain to earn them. What a life he'd had. And she would learn all of his history.

The tip of his cock rubbed against her slit as she rolled her hips in torturously slow back and forth movements. It was slick with pre-cum and her own wetness as Nesta sank down onto it.

Cassian held her still, preventing any further movement. He kissed her. ‘You say stop when it hurts.’

It might be sooner than he expected. The size of him was enormous. Nesta had barely been able to enclose her hand around it, but she let her body lower a little more, taking in another inch then another before Cassian had his hands around her hips to lift her back off.

The moment she was without him, Nesta needed him again. Needed that sensation of being filled and stretched by her mate.

Nesta pushed through the discomfort until it gave way to pleasure. Cassian thumb circled the apex of her thighs until she could no longer function.

‘I can’t do this when you do that,’ she breathed, tipping forwards towards his chest.

‘Then let me do both.’

Cassian went his knees between her legs and continued his languid touches as he thrust inside of her. Although the movements were slow, the intensity was dizzying. Nesta didn’t even know her own name. All she knew was this man was giving her everything she ever wanted.

They came again together, Cassian’s seed spilling inside of her as Nesta’s legs shook around his body.

Together, they flopped on top of the blankets, his wing coming around her to shield from the chill in the room.

‘You tired?’ Nesta shook her head and his face turned into a grin. ‘Good, because you’re not getting any sleep tonight, sweetheart.’

***

The wedding planning had been left to everybody else. Meals were left outside their door the first couple of days, but the House of Wind had been evacuated. Cassian couldn’t feel too much guilt. It gave them more rooms to play in. There wasn’t a room he hadn’t fucked Nesta in. She was worse than him, demanding sex constantly, him on his knees, her on top of a table. He didn't know where she was getting her ideas from, but Cassian was a willing victim to all of her experiments. But after two weeks of mindless consummation, Mor and Rhys had arrived to drag them to their own wedding.

Mor took Nesta off to her sisters – and even in that brief absence, Cassian already missed his mate.

‘I’m glad you’ve not snapped her in half.’

Cassian winced at the visual. ‘She’s trying to kill me off. I can barely keep up.’

Rhys laughed at that remark then his face became pensive. ‘I have an early gift for you. I’ve been in the library a lot and found a spell that Helion could cast. It will tether Nesta to you,’ he explained. ‘When you depart this world, that’s when she will go – and no sooner.’

‘I can have more time with her?’

It was a thought that Cassian pushed to one side each time it bubbled up in his mind. The thought of Nesta turning old and grey, never really bothered him. It was the idea that he’d have to continue on without her that was worse.

‘She’ll be tied to your life. If you were to fall in battle next year, she’d also die. But if you live to two thousand, then she’ll be there every step of the way.’

‘Old and grey together,’ he mused. ‘She won’t age like a mortal, will she?’

His horrified face made Rhys titter with laughter as he looped his tie around his neck. ‘No, fortunately not. I don't think mortals can manage more than eighty years before they start decomposing. I’ve also told Lucien that it’s a possibility with Elain – but only if he remains with this court.’

‘The bond snapped?’

‘Three days ago. She cut her hand trying to cook with the wraiths and Lucien went berserk at the sight of her blood. Likely why she dreamt of him since she was a girl. Some latent part of her always knew he was hers. Mor has the pleasure of filling Nesta in on the parts she’s missed – and about the spell. It’s both of your decision. Think it over.’

It required no thought from Cassian. Of course, he would want more time with Nesta. He’d take every drop of it the Cauldron would give them.

‘Is Feyre still painting?’

A blush swept across Rhys’ cheeks before he could turn his body away. ‘Yes. We flew a few days ago too. Not too high. Just around Velaris.’

‘Poor Azriel.’

‘What?’

‘Lost both of his brothers to an Archeron.’

Rhys shook his head. ‘Feyre is just a friend. I’m helping her to settle in. For your benefit. For Nesta.’

‘What an altruistic high lord you are. I’ll ask you again in a week if she’s still just a friend.’

***

Nesta owed her thanks to Mor who had taken on the bulk of the wedding planning alone. It was exactly how she would have wanted it. Simple yet elegant. Flowers wreathed the arch where Cassian stood. If she didn’t know him any better, Nesta would say that he was nervous. He was shifting his weight between his feet, fiddling with cuffs, and murmuring constantly to Azriel and Rhys. Or maybe being in formal attire made him that way.

Her sisters were resplendent in long gowns of periwinkle blue and bouquets of white lilies. They walked the aisle together in lieu of her father doing it. It had been her sisters who Nesta had leaned on; her sisters who had nuzzled together in the frigid cottage for that extra bit of warmth. They would manage this new world together.

They presented her to Cassian and Nesta couldn’t stop herself from beaming.

‘You look beautiful.’

Mor had also chosen her dress; it was white silk gathered into a cowl-neck and slunk along her curves to the floor.

‘You saw me less than two hours ago.’

Cassian shrugged one shoulder. ‘You looked beautiful then too.’

Likely because her mouth was filled with his cock beneath the table after they'd slept together on it. That memory resurfaced in him too and a smile flitted to both of their lips.

A priestess had been commandeered to lead the proceedings though she read the mortal ceremony with uncertainty, the words unfamiliar to her. Nesta didn’t care. She was marrying Cassian, the man who had been kind enough to teach her how to light a fire easier and hunt so she could survive without him. The man who had teased her and coaxed fun back into the dire days of the cabin. Nesta would never give thanks for the injuries that had shot him out of the sky, but she was glad that of all the roofs to land on, Cassian had chosen hers.

‘Nesta, I promise to cherish you always, to honour and sustain you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, and to be true to you in all things until death alone shall part us.’

His hands were gentle holding hers. The sun shone through his wings, making them glow red like the stones he wore. He was hers.

‘With this ring I, Nesta, take you, Cassian, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us.’

Cassian repeated the words too. Behind her, Nesta could make out Elain’s sniffing and weeping. She’d always been a romantic.

‘By the power vested in me by the Mother and the Cauldron, I now pronounce you husband and wife.’

Cassian grazed his knuckles down her cheek like one of the first times they’d met. That time, he’d smacked her in the mouth with a wing. She knew now to avoid them.

He pressed a kiss to her lips. ‘Husband and wife. Mortal and fae.’

‘The exile and the injured.’

@mis-lil-red

#the exile and the injured

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shallyne · 10 months

Text

SJM Crackshipmonth: Enemies to Lovers

Helping You

More rivals (not even) but you get it. Feyre x Lorcan for day six of @sjmcrackshipmonth

Words: 1,402

TW: none

Feyre tries to befriend the new student but he keeps showing her the cold shoulder

Feyre knew him. Not personally, but she saw him stalking through the school corridors before the bell rang for the period that day. Feyre put her pen down and listened as her teacher introduced the new student. "Lorcan," she had called him. He was a new student, he just moved from a city in the east, Doranelle, to Velaris. "You can take a seat beside Feyre."

She raised her hand to show him that it was her and she took her book from his side of the desk. She smiled at him but he averted any eye contact as he slumped into his chair and let his bag fall at the side of the table. When Lorcan didn't unpack anything, Feyre asked "Don't you have your books yet?" No answer. "You can look into mine, the administration always takes their time." He didn't even acknowledge her. "Fine," she sighed. "Just tell me if you need something."

*I don't need anything." He snapped.

Feyre eyed him for a moment before she turned her attention back to the teacher for the rest of the class. She didn't offer help again as he just sat there and did nothing. The minute the bell rang, Lorcan stormed out of the class. She only saw him again during lunch break, from a distance. Lorcan retreated into a quiet corner and ate by himself glaring at everyone who dared to come too close.

The next morning, Feyre smiled brightly at him when he entered class. Lorcan stopped for a second, then slowly took his seat beside Feyre. "Good morning!" she chirped, knowing he wouldn't respond. "Did you do the homework?"

Lorcan grunted, looking out of the window.

"Right?" Feyre continued the conversation that didn't exist. "Ma'am, give us a break. The year just started! But don't worry, Stryga might seem strict but she's actually pretty cool, just try not to get on her bad side." Lorcan didn't give any sign at all that he was listening, but Feyre didn't let that stop her from talking about her homework. Later, she watched Lorcan again during lunch. He sat in the same corner, brooding away. Feyre stopped chewing on her sandwich as she watched another girl from their class, Clare, approach Lorcan. She said something, which made Lorcan snap something back and she left without another word.

On day three, Lorcan took his seat and growled "Don't even start." before Feyre could say anything.

"Wow, I didn't know you could get grumpier." Feyre noted. He only rolled his eyes. She didn't bait him any further, and paid attention to her schoolwork.

Feyre walked past her usual table and her friends during lunch and took a seat right beside Lorcan. She smiled at him, that seemed to piss him off even more for some reason as he threw his own sandwich on his plate and stared at her.

"What?" Feyre asked. "Why can't I sit with you?"

"Just leave me alone." he snapped. "Why are you so adamant about following me like a disoriented puppy? Don't you have your own life?" Lorcan stood up, seething. "Just because you're pretty and popular doesn't mean–"

"You think I'm pretty?" Feyre beamed.

Lorcan pressed his lips together and glared at Feyre one last time before he rushed out of the cafeteria.

As Feyre walked through the corridors, Feyre heard people whispering about Lorcan. She probably should be angry at him but she only felt bad as she listened to all the rumors going around.

She was surprised to find him in the library after school. Feyre would have thought he would leave the school grounds as fast as possible but there he sat, on a table in a far corner and he was reading.

Feyre flipped her hair over her shoulder and strode over to his table. When he looked up, his eyes narrowed. "Isn't it enough to harass me during schooltime? Do you have to do it after school, too?"

"Everyone hates you, you know that?" Feyre snapped.

He shut his book closed. "Oh, you are that girl."

"You don't get to judge me!" Feyre said. "I tried to be your friend, multiple times but you always shut me out. I want to help you! I know how stressful it is to change schools–"

"I don't need your help!" he replied. "You don't know anything about me, leave!"

"Aww, Lorcan," his gaze snapped to her when she said his name, "You poor thing. You're so alone, hm? Of course you are when you don't let anyone near you!"

"What do you want? You know me for two days!" he seethed.

"Three, actually. Do you need a math tutor?" she smiled when he scowled at her. "Why are you like this?"

"What are you talking about? Maybe I just don't like you." he threw at her.

"Now you're just snapping like a cornered dog." Feyre sat down on the opposite side of the table. To her surprise, Lorcan didn't jump up and ran away. "What is it with you? Does mommy not pay you much attention? Did daddy leave to get the milk? Do you feel like you're screaming into a void and can't form any emotional connections, scared that anyone could see the real you and still walk away?"

"Leave." he said, with less bite than usual.

"Oh my god, don't tell me I'm right." Feyre said quietly. "Am I?"

Lorcan opened his book again. "I thought I shouldn't tell you."

Feyre sighed and put her books down. "I'm sorry that we had a rocky start, even though it was your fault, but let's put it to rest. Let me be your friend, Lorcan."

"I don't–* he gripped his book so hard that Feyre Feared he would rip it in half. "Why?"

"Why not?" she asked. "I'd just like to be your friend."

"I believe that," he said to her surprise. "But there's something else."

"Okay fine, I overheard Ianthe talking about asking you out and I hate her." Feyre explained. "And she hates me, don't look like that. Anyways, she's going to be so jealous if I befriend you first. Trust me, you do not want her advances. It's a win-win situation. I get a new friend and beat Ianthe and you get a new friend and won't get asked out by her. I win, you win, Ianthe loses. We all are happy. Incredible, isn't it?"

"What's so bad about Ianthe?" he asked.

"You'll see soon enough." Feyre extended her hand. "Friends?"

"Fine," he said, shaking it. "Friends."

Feyre grinned, Ianthe will be so mad. "What are you reading, by the way? Biology, I can help with that!"

"That was fast." Feyre said as she overlooked the party from the balcony, a summer breeze ruffling through her hair. It's been a year, a whole school year, since she met and befriended Lorcan. It's been seven months since they started dating. Lorcan sighed beside her and they both watched their friends laughing and dancing at the last party they would all attend together before they would part ways and go to college. "It feels like yesterday that I saw your brooding face for the first time."

Lorcan huffed a laugh beside her, squeezing her hand. "It feels like yesterday that you annoyed me into agreeing to a friendship."

"You loved it." Feyre drawled. "And I was saving you from Ianthe, imagine if she would have gotten to you first."

Lorcan playfully shuddered, which made Feyre giggle. They fell into a comfortable silence again as they watched the group below. Well, that's it. That's their last evening together.

Lorcan stepped closer, putting an arm around Feyre and kissing her cheek. "We'll manage a long distance relationship." he calmed her down.

She leaned into him. "I know." she replied quietly. "But that doesn't mean that I won't miss you terribly. Who is going to save your ass when you get into trouble again?"

"I'll try not to get into trouble," he promised.

"That's not really the reassuring take that you think it is." she giggled. "If you manage to not get into trouble until I see you on Christmas, I'll bring you back your favorite cheesecake from Velaris."

He was quiet for a few moments, resting his chin on Feyre's head. "Deal."

Feyre put her hands on the arms he had slung round her waist and they both watched the sun set in the distance.

Taglist: @timesconvert

#throne of glass #tog #sjmcrackshipmonth23 #sjmcrackshipmonth #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #feyre archeron #feyre #feyre cursebreaker #high lady of the night court #high lady feyre #feyre darling #lorcan salvaterre #lorcan #Lorcan x Feyre #Feyre x Lorcan

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flowerflamestars · 3 years

Text

Shoreless Sea snippet

“If you try,” Helion said,“To take the Library from the Librarian, you will die.” Rhysand grinned, flash of teeth all threat. “Who will kill me, Spellcleaver? You?” He jerked his chin toward Tarquin, “Summer?” “Prythian will kill you,” Helion promised. “The compact that makes your Court, gives your bloodline power. The Library is older than the ground you stand on and it will swallow you whole, Rhysand.” Sorcha, beside him, looked as though she were thinking about making the attempt herself- bone, sinew, and shadow a fine meal to the daughter of the bloody moon, head cocked in interest. I would keep the bone, she told him in endless, beautiful sparks, for Nesta. “And if it doesn’t,” Tarquin said, steely, quiet, “Nesta will.” Rhysand snickered. “With your help?” Tarquin met his gaze head on, air crackling electric, thunderstorm to burst. “Yes. If she’d like. Your capital is on the sea, isn’t it? The City of Starlight, built all the way down to the waterline.” “Don’t threaten our people,”- Feyre started, but all of the sudden, Nesta unfroze. Unwound, those red lacquered lips under the veil speaking in a voice that wasn’t quite right. “You will not die.” “Nesta would never try to hurt her own family,” Feyre hissed, triumphant, until Nesta stood. Small in the shadow of Tarquin, figure dragging at reality until she seemed taller than any of them. Light bent, shadow shied away. The Ten Thousand breathed in Nesta, and she had given eternity her voice. Black, gold, skin paler than bone. “You will not die,” Chilly and ancient, she echoed, “You will be unmade. Your words forgotten, your bones dust, your ancestors ancestors ancestors erased. There will be no Night- there will be no you- those words, like your magic, will no longer exist.” “Then stop playing fucking favorites,” Rhysand spit. A nightmare with Helion’s best friend’s face smiled. “Actions have consequences.” A flicker- a tear in in the fabric of life- thunder without the sound, and there was Nesta, as though there had only ever been Nesta, tilting her head to smirk. “All kingdoms have doors. I suggest you get off your ass and find yours.”

#shoreless 3 has so much shit going on #but also some of my favorite #the currents run deep #Tarquin is a soft man who ALSO has magma flow of a temper #Nesta gets to pick her fights and how she wants to defend herself #but she wants his help?#Tarquin will OBLITERATE her enemies yall #Tarquin: I heard you're having problems flying #for how long can you see high ground #until your whole Court is under water #do not even LOOK at my wife #Sorcha: the most faery faery to faery #yes this is Rhys throwing a fit #because Feyre tried to break into the Library #to make her Daylight plea #of please please Rhys betrayed his people please help me nullify the consequences!#but this time #she didn't make it past the border #yes the Daylight Library Door to night...is in the Court of Nightmares #so currently dead center in Erebus winning this long game #to eradicate an entire imperialist bloodline #the shadows have teeth

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a-court-of-valkyries · 2 years

Text

Engulfed In Your Flames

Chapter 2: Nesta

TW: Mention of SA, suicidal thoughts, and the awful “intervention”

“Here are your options, girl,” Amren said, delicate chin rising. “One,” Amren said, raising a slender finger, “you can move up to the House of Wind, train with Cassian in the mornings, and work in the library in the afternoons. You will not be a prisoner. But there will be no one to fly or winnow you down to the city. If you want to venture into the city proper, by all means, go ahead. That is, if you can brave the ten thousand steps down from the House.” Amren’s eyes glittered with the challenge. “And if you can somehow find two coppers to rub together to buy yourself a drink. But if you follow this plan, we will reevaluate where and how you live in a few months.”

“And my other option?” Nesta spat.

“You go back to the human lands.”

Back to the human lands where she’d eventually end up dead at the hands of the humans. They would lock her up or send her off to die.

Nesta turned to Feyre, lips pulling back from her teeth. She could feel the fury building up inside her, could feel her powers beginning to rise and boil in anger. “And these are my only options?”

Feyre squared her shoulders and stood a little taller before answering. “Yes.”

“You have no right.”

“I-”

Nesta erupted. “You dragged me into this mess, this horrible place! You are the reason why I am like this, why I am stuck here-”

“That’s enough. That is enough, Nesta. You’re moving up to the House, you are going to train and work, and I don’t care what vitriol you spew my way. You’re doing it.”

“Over my cold dead body will I go there,” Nesta seethed.

“You will be going there,” Feyre ordered. “This is not up for discussion.”

Nesta shook her head. “Elain would never stand for this. She would hate you for-”

“Elain agreed to this hours ago.” Nesta recoiled at the admission. Elain was part of this? She had already chosen their side? The realization caused a fresh wave of pain to pierce Nesta’s heart. How could Elain betray her like this after everything they’d gone through? Nesta stayed by her side for months after the Cauldron, afraid that she would hurt herself or try to jump out the window to meet her death. She watched over Elain, cared for her, protected her, tried to make sure Elain hadn’t completely lost her mind when Nesta felt like she was so close to losing it herself. How could Elain just toss her away like this and rub her hands clean of Nesta? Elain was supposed to be the only one who could understand her, the only one who would fight for Nesta the way Nesta did for her. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes and clenched her fists together. She let her nails dig in and break her skin to keep from showing any weakness. “She’s packing up your apartment as we speak. By the time you return, it will be empty. Your clothes are being sent to the House of Wind.”

“Though I doubt they will be suitable for training in Windhaven,” Amren muttered under her breath. Feyre glared at her for speaking without permission. Then, she turned back to Nesta.

“Elain knows how to contact you. If she wishes to visit you at the House, she is free to do so. One of us will gladly take her up there.”

Some sliver of hope Nesta didn’t even know she had died like a flame desperately trying to stay alive and finally being snuffed out. She had thought that she already reached her rock bottom, but she was wrong. It couldn’t get any worse than this. Being in a room surrounded by people who had done nothing but shame her and judge her for her choices. And he had used his powers on her just to get her to submit. He took pleasure in scenting her fear.

Nesta pushed them away after the war because she couldn’t cope the way everyone else had. They had moved on like nothing really happened, content to live in their bubble of avoidance and easy to forget the violence of the last few months. Nesta couldn’t stand any of it. There had been a smothering silence when her father died. It had begun crushing her when she’d gone to his study at their half-wrecked manor days later and found one of his pathetic little wood carvings. In her guilt, she had kept the carving just like she kept the piece of wood Feyre had painted on, a small token of her sister after Tamlin had stolen her into the night. She had hated her father for his neglect, for his willingness to let his three daughters starve to death instead of fighting for them. She burned with that hatred, and she still hated him, if she was honest. But then he had finally shown up for the three of them during the battle with Hybern. He told her he loved her, and before she could process what was happening, before she could even speak to him, his neck was snapped and the light left his eyes. Nesta had wanted to scream and scream, but there had been so many people around. She’d held herself together until the meeting with all those war heroes had ended. Then she let herself fall. Straight into that silent and numbing pit.

You have your life and I have mine, she’d told Elain. She didn’t say it to be cruel. She said it because it was the truth. She couldn’t forget everything the way they had. Nesta couldn’t live like that.

All her life Nesta had her choices taken away from her. Whether it was from her mother and Grandmamma, or losing everything and being poor. She lost her humanity and was forced into the Cauldron, fated to spend the rest of her long and miserable life in Prythian. Even the Cauldron had decided to choose a mate for her; the same mate who had never bothered to see her after the war, who didn’t care enough to bother, was now trying to force her to live and train with him. The only decisions she had been able to make for herself was in the last year. She got to decide what to do with her body: who to sleep with (although Tomas had tried to take that from her too), she chose to drink to numb herself and her powers and to help herself forget, she chose where she wanted to live, and now Feyre and her friends wanted to take that away from her too.

“I want to speak to my sister. Alone,” Nesta ordered. She could feel the High Lord’s eyes boring into her, filled with such an intense hatred and animosity, but Nesta ignored him until he, Cassian, and Amren exited the room and went into the hall.

Nesta held herself up, her spine straight. She hated all of them. They were nosy busybodies who were too busy sticking themselves in everyone’s business instead of working hard to rebuild their court and help the people suffering within it. They only cared about their precious Velaris; damn the victims in Hewn City and Illyria. They had never cared before. They didn’t bother to speak to her after the war, they didn’t care when she first started drinking and sleeping around. Nesta almost scoffed at the hypocrisy. When she did it, it was a crime, and extreme measures needed to be taken to make sure she stopped, but they had no problem bragging about all the sex they had and had no problem getting drunk every week. Nesta doubted they were any better than her after their first war, so why was Nesta the villain for doing what they always did?

“You didn’t care before,” Nesta said. “Why now?”

Feyre toyed with her silver-and-star-sapphire wedding ring. “I told you: it wasn’t that I didn’t care. We—everyone, I mean—had multiple conversations about this. About you. We— I decided that giving you time would be best.”

They’d all been discussing her, deeming her unfit and unchecked, and—

Feyre said carefully, “for what it’s worth, I was hoping you’d turn yourself around. I wanted to give you space to do it, since you seem to lash out at everyone who comes close enough, but you didn’t even try.”

Perhaps you can find it in yourself to try a little harder this year. Cassian’s words from nine months ago still rang fresh in her mind.

Try? It was all she could think to say.

I know that’s a foreign word to you.

His words haunted her all this time, the same way Feyre’s accusation would follow her wherever she went. They thought she wasn’t trying. They had no idea what is what like. They had no idea how simply dragging herself out of bed exhausted her so much that it left her with no motivation for the rest of the day. They had no idea what it was like for her to fear simply getting into a tub, but trying to anyway so she would no longer have to use buckets. Or what it was like to drown herself in liquor just to forget all that was taken from her; what is was like to lose herself as her skin was ripped apart and bones were stretched and broken just to be forged into a creature she had been taught all her life to hate. They had no idea what it was like for her to walk around with powers she couldn’t understand, powers that no one could understand. They had no idea what it was like to hate so much that no matter how much she hated them for what they were doing to her now, it would never equate to how much she hated herself. She did try. She tried every day to simply exist, but even that was becoming too much for her. But she tried because she had that one sliver of hope that things would one day change and be different, even if she didn’t truly believe in it, but now that had been taken away from her too. She didn’t feel like trying anymore.

Cassian had said that he couldn’t understand how anyone could love her. Nesta didn’t understand it either.

Feyre continued, “All you have done is help yourself to our money.”

“Your mate’s money,” Nesta corrected her.

“Nesta, You spent 500 gold marks last night! Do you know how much money that is? Do you know how embarrassed I was when we got the bill this morning and my friends—my family— had to hear all about it?”

Her family, as if Nesta and she weren’t flesh and blood. “That must have been very hard for you, Feyre.” Nesta said, sarcasm dripping off her tongue.

Feyre went on as if Nesta hadn’t even spoken, “And to hear what you spent it on-”

“Oh, so this is all about you saving face-”

“It is about how it reflects upon me, upon Rhys, and upon my court when my damned sister spends our money on wine and gambling and does nothing to contribute to this city! If my sister cannot be controlled, then why should we have the right to rule over anyone else?”

“Don’t you dare do that!” Nesta spat. “Don’t you dare act like I’ve done nothing but be a burden. I helped you win a war that wasn’t even my concern. I was dragged into it, killed, and turned fae over it. I helped kill the King of Hybern. I lost everything contributing to help this city and the rest of Prythian and the human lands. So don’t you dare,” Nesta whispered dangerously, “act like I have done nothing. I have done more than enough. And let me make something very clear, Feyre. I am not yours to control.”

“That is why you’re going to train at Windhaven. You will learn to control yourself.”

“So your grand plan to help me get over the trauma of the war is to have me train in a war camp?” Nesta shook her head defiantly. “I won’t go.”

“You’re going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there. You will follow Cassian’s lessons, and you will do whatever work Clotho requires in the library. You will respect her, and the other priestesses in the library,” Feyre said, “and you will never give them a moment’s trouble. Any free time is yours to spend as you wish. In the House.”

Hot rage pumped through her, so loud Nesta could barely hear the real fire before which her sister paced. Was glad of the roaring in her head when the sound of wood cracking as it burned was so much like her father’s breaking neck that she couldn’t stand to light a fire in her own home.

“You had no right to close up my apartment, to take my things—”

“What things? A few clothes and some rotten food.” Nesta didn’t have the chance to wonder how Feyre knew that. Not as her sister said, “I’m having that entire building condemned.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s done. Rhys already visited the landlord. It will be torn down and rebuilt as a shelter for families still displaced by the war.”

Nesta tried to master her uneven breathing. One of the few choices she’d made for herself, stripped away. Her ties to it cut simply as if it was nothing more than a piece of string and not one of the few times she had been able to choose something for herself. Feyre didn’t seem to care. Feyre had always been her own master. Always got whatever she wished. And now, she wanted this too. The only thing Nesta could feel at this moment was a fierce and burning anger, so she held onto it like it was a lifeline, as she had always done.

“I won’t be your prisoner—”

“No. You can go wherever you wish. As Amren said, you are free to leave the House. If you can manage those ten thousand steps.” Feyre’s eyes blazed. “But I’m done paying for you to destroy yourself.”

“You’re no better than Tamlin,” Nesta sneered. “Taking away my choices, locking me up, dictating what I can or cannot do with my life under the guise that you are trying to help me, to protect me and save me from myself. It sounds awfully familiar, doesn’t it?”

The blow landed. Feyre’s widened her eyes in shock and hurt, and tears quickly filled them. Nesta wasn’t surprised that Feyre didn’t see the hypocrisy in this so-called “intervention”. She had always been so naive. It filled her with even more disgust and rage, leaving no room for any undeserved sympathy. The audacity, Nesta thought, to play the victim when you’re trying to lock me up. Rhysand barged in through the doors, probably well aware of Feyre’s emotions. His eyes burned holes into Nesta, and his shadows swirled and darkened like he was getting ready to attack. Let him, Nesta thought. She was well past caring. If he tries to use his powers on me, I’ll use mine on him. Let him see what it’s like for a change.

“You said I have two choices,” Nesta sat up straighter, looking Feyre in the eyes. “Well, I’ve made my decision. I want to go to the human lands.”

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#nesta archeron #eris vanserra #neris #nesta and eris #nesta x eris #engulfed in your flames fic #anti ic #anti acosf #anti feyre archeron #anti elain archeron #anti cassian #anti rhysand #anti amren #slowburn neris #EIYF

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highfaelucien · 3 years

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While on the topic of wishing sjm had done something different for her characters, I really wanted something more for cassian. For example, cassian’s wings going from being completely ruined in the end of acomaf to being 100% healed in acowar made no sense to me. I think it would’ve been an opportunity for the growth of cassian’s character to see him go through the loss of losing the ability to fly and instead retrain himself to be a warrior in other ways and find other things about himself that prove his own worth to himself. Given the fact that cassian’s confidence is aligned with his ability to protect and serve others, it just would have been sooo good to see him overcome his grief and become even stronger of a character. And how wings, in general, are a sense of male pride among illyrians. I think this would’ve been the perfect way to write cassian and have him break away from his own idea of masculinity. He could have redefined what it meant for him to be a Man ™. Ugh, it just could have been so GOOD, imagine the character we could have gotten from him.

Listen, after ACOMAF, when this happened, EVERYONE was buzzing about this. Most people thought he wouldn't outright lose his wings permanently, but there would be a LOT required.

And then ACOWAR came and approximately nothing happened whatsoever. Oh he had to be healed. the healer had to rebuild his wings. he had to do strength training every day. But fundamentally: not a sausage.

Personally? I think Maas chickend out. I think she was unable to commit to taking Cassian's wings, or figuring out how to write him as anything other than what she's established him as: fun jock man who likes to hit things real hard and make dick jokes sometimes.

Having to see Cassian vulnerable? Having to see him broken, and struggling, and having to reevaluate his entire life and self-esteem and sense of masculinity would have been an incredible option for a character arc.

Most of the theorising/Nessian fics involved Nesta helping him. The two of them being broken/fundamentally altered by their experiences in Hybern - she being killed and Made with a dark power, Cassian losing his wings.

There was expected bonding over that, peeling away the masks they both wear to discover the softness underneath. The two of them being able to reach one another, because of their bond, in a way the others could not. It produced some pretty epic stuff, honestly.

And how badly I wanted that I didn't FULLY realise until the disappointment of ACOSF, when it hit fully.

Because instead of stripping Cassian back and seeing the tactician, the strategist, forcing him to put his other skills to use, to develop those skills, rather than 'smash with sword and ask questions later'. This man is a General. All the combat training in the world doesn't let you be good at this job if you can't command, if you can't use tactics, if you can't strategise.

And THIS is where I wanted to see Nesta. Nesta, the woman who calculated how many ships would be needed to save the humans of Prythian. The woman who looked at Greysen's manor and assessed its capabilities and saw a prison. The woman who devours history novels, who has a tactical, cunning mind. Who has never been a warrior or a creature of brute strength or physical abilities.

THIS is how I wanted to see Nesta evolve. This was how I wanted to see her develop. I didn't want her taken out of lady's dresses. I didn't want her forced into fighting leathers, to basically become another copy of her sister, and follow down that path.

I wanted her to take her own. I wanted her to finally be in a place where she could learn, and strategise, and contribute. And I wanted her to work with Cassian on this - who was grounded because of his wings, who couldn't command on the frontlines anymore, or even fight. Who had to stay back, and see how he handled this. How he maintained his authority. How he maintained his sanity without his wings.

We could have had so fucking much. Such a powerful narrative about survival. I wanted her in the library, with the other survivors, (and with fucking MORRIGAN - not sidelined, not dismissed, not being bitchy and catty for the sake of it. But someone who visits the library frequently, who interacts with the women there, and sometimes just is a woman there herself, because there are still hard days.)

But no. No instead of something nuanced, and original, and actually tailored to Nesta's strengths as a character, we got Yet Another Weapon's Trainng Montage.

We got the narrative that the only way to heal from abuse is to be able to beat the shit out of your abusers. Because that's #GirlPower, right?

It makes me so furious I almost want to just. Just fucking rewrite the whole damn fucking thing myself the way it SHOULD have gone.

And I know you talked about Cassian and not Nesta, so I do apologise, but they were tied together. But I agree.

We all wanted Cassian to evolve from that 'Lord of Bloodshed' / "savage brute" because reading between the lines and forcing some nuance from these books, which is the only way to survive: Cassian has a lot of layers. There's a lot of trauma there. A lot of insecurity. A lot of angst. A lot of heart. A lot of fucking INTELLIGENCE. (I'll fight on that point, I really will. Cassian is not a dumb himbo who can barely add 1 and 1).

But sjm was too busy writing him having a hard on for Nesta to explore....anything about himself. Or his relationship with Azriel, and Rhys, and Mor, and everyone else.

The removal (even temporarily) of his wings would have allowed for a LOT of that exploration.

Firstly, the fact that he injured them by CHOICE, saving Azriel's life. That would have been such a deep connection and bond between them. The guilt that Az would feel - but the potential for Cassian to step in, even with his wings gone, and say that he'd do it again.

Because Azriel is his brother. He loves him. And it was worth it. It would be worth it a hundred times over to save him. Because he's worth saving. And he's worth sacrificing for. And what that would have done for Az as a character, too. Who always offers himself up first for dangerous missions, puts himself in peril to protect the others.

And having Cassian join Feyre and Az's flying lessons? Because Cass having to relearn how to fly once (if) his wings healed to that extent, means letting Azriel train him. Because those old instincts aren't enough. And he has to learn how to strengthen them, and train with them. And how this affects his perception of himself and his masculinity, as he said. But also deepening his understanding for Az, and the bond the two of them share, in having this experience together.

Bonding with Rhys, who FINALLY fucking opens up to someone and has some nuanced therapy-like conversations about what happened with Amarantha. The sacrifces they've made for their people. How they'd do it again but it still hurts, and changes them, and how they have to learn and grow and move on from that and heal together.

Rhys working with Cassian on his other talents, using him as the skilled strategist and tactician he MUST be. Helping him to develop that, keeping his brother from losing his mind while he can't fight or use his physicality to solve problems, as he usually does.

Mor personally healing and tending to Cassian. Mor being there at his bedside every day while he was bed bound. Mor becoming as possessive and overprotective of both him and Az as any mate ever has been.

Mor speaking to him about her own rehabilitation after what her family did to her, the physical toll that took on her. Mor's heart breaking because she nearly lost both him and Az and she couldn't handle that at all. Mor reiterating how much she fucking loves him, and how she needs him.

Mor helping him through the darker days of his depression because she's been there. And she knows what it is to put on a front. To always be laughing, and joking, without the seriousness of life -leave that to the others. But sometimes it's too much and he needs to break down. And be angry. And furious. And hopeless. And scared. And that's what she's there for. Because she understands.

Mor winnowing him to his favourite spots that he can't fly to anymore, just so he can be there. The two of them spending time, and bonding, and developing that relationship we got in ACOMAF beyond 'we bicker constantly and drink together and make sexual innuendos'.

Even Amren showing up and doing her part. Snapping at him to stop brooding so much. But also bringing him some of her puzzles. Some of her favourite military history books (which she has anotated and edited to highlight the bits that have been incorrectly reported). Spending time with him to stop him going mad. Exhausting herself those first few days personally attending to Cassian's wings, and snarling at anyone who tried to interfere.

IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH.

IT COULD HAVE DEVELOPED SO MUCH WITH THE INNER CIRCLE. AND CASSIAN. AND NESSIAN. AND JUST. EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER BUT NAW. IT WAS BASIC ASS AND BORING AND I'M GONNA DIE MAD ABOUT IT.

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nikethestatue · 3 years

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I think it’s time for a RANT

Why is it Elain’s responsibility to reject the bond with Lucien?

Here is an example from my own life--when I was a kid, I grew up in a lot of different places, but primarily in countries, where engagements did not exist. There was no concept of an ‘engagement’. There was no dropping on one knee, no formal proposals, and certainly no ring or other expensive jewelry. Men asked women to marry them, hopefully it was a ‘yes’ and then they maybe planned a wedding celebration, if there was enough money. And if not, then they went to to justice of the peace, signed a paper and went home to celebrate. That’s it.

So, once I moved to the US, for the longest time, I couldn't understand the concept of engagement. Like what was it for? Why the waiting period? If you want to get married, just marry, and that’s it. (There was also no 40K weddings where I lived that you needed to mortgage a house for, to afford). It was just a weird cultural thing and it took a while and acquaintance with the US culture to begin to understand.

Why would Elain, who grew up a human, and has no knowledge of bonds, and places no importance on them (much like Nesta, mind you) be the one who should be dealing with this bond fiasco?

Just because Rhys explained it to Feyre, doesn’t mean that Elain is aware of everything that this stupid bond entails. Does she know that Lucien can potentially go insane or some other dramatic thing like that? All she knows is that she doesn’t really like him or want him, he is part of the reason her engagement fell through and she was rejected, and she clearly doesn’t feel pressed by this bond. She isn’t feral, she doesn’t miss him, she isn’t going crazy if he is hurt (or feels it at all)--none of the ‘normal’ bond emotions and cravings apply to her. She is also desiring another male, and doesn’t care that Lucien is even in the same house when she engages in a romantic interlude with this other man.

Of course it beckons the question as to what is wrong with their bond, but that’s a whole different conversation.

But, let’s ask this--if Lucien is so invested in this bond (which he clearly isn’t, since he is shacking up in the human lands with 2 other people), then why doesn’t he sit down with her and explain it to her? Why does he not offer to court her? She comes from a certain background, where it’s clear that there are formalities that have to be acknowledged and followed around engagement and matrimony. But does HE know about any of it? Does he try to find out how courtship/engagements/marriages work in the human lands? Doesn’t seem like it. Yet, the expectation is that Elain spends hours in the Library poring over tomes, learning about the bond.

So, if we are asking the questions ‘well, why doesn’t Elain reject the bond? why doesn’t she give Lucien a chance? why doesn’t she learn more about it?” then why are we not asking the same questions of Lucien--why doesn’t he take her on a date? Yes, she could decline, but then, at least he tried! Why doesn’t he ask Feyre, for example, to talk to Elain about the bond and how to operate within its confines?

Why do readers, and characters, have this expectation that ‘Elain should deal with the bond’? Elain is not obligated to make Lucien, or any other male feel good about themselves, or make them comfortable, or not hurt their feelings (though again, I don’t feel like she is hurting his feelings, because he doesn’t seem to care).

Elain was brutally rejected by her fiancé, in front of a crowd of people, she was also thrown at this other male that she doesn’t know anything about and isn’t attracted to. As far as we know, she was also called a ‘mistake’ by another male, to whom she is clearly very attracted. Her brother-in-law, unbenounced to her, has made all these detrimental decisions about her life, without giving two thoughts about her or her wants. Did anybody care about Elain’s feelings? Elain is expected to be nice to Lucien? Why? Because he is a nice guy? Do we, as women, go out with every ‘nice guy’ that asks us out? No. We should have a say to whom we offer our affections. And we are not obligated to make any and all ‘nice guys’ feel good, and acquiesce to their desires, at our own expense.

Elain should not be expected to traumatize herself further, by entangling herself in some bond-related brawl, with indifferent Lucien, and freakin’ Beron snapping at the heels, and power-hungry, politically motivated Rhys, and the pining Azriel. The bond is not her thing. The bond is not her responsibility. She can do whatever the hell she wants--ignore it, accept it, reject it, breaking it, because the onus should not be on her, as a female to please all these males around her and offer them an answer.

Nesta had the bond actually snap into place, and still she didn’t want to acknowledge it, standing in front of angry, puppy-eyed Cassian who is melting with love for her, and she is enflamed by love for him. And she was basically ‘yeah, I don’t want it. I am calling in the bargain! I don’t care. I wanna go be with my girlfriends! We are not discussing it.”

Feyre, while clearly in love with Rhys, who is also badly injured, leaves him in the mud in an Illyrian training camp and demands to be hidden, because she can’t deal with the bond.

Yet Elain, who is barely a participating party in this fiasco is somehow expected to make firm declarations and quick decisions.

Hey, but that’s just me.

#elain archeron #lucien vanserra #anti bond #mate bond #acosf #elain #elain acosf #elucien

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riddlecrux · 3 years

Text

Light seen through the windows: an analysis of windows as a literary tool in Elriel relationship

I would love to preface this meta with my favorite disclaimer that everything that I will be discussing is based on what I have gathered from SJM writing. The quotes used in this post will serve as a starting point for further analysis. Additionally, I will be using things such as symbolism, metaphors, and literary device methods to build up my reasoning and beliefs. On another note, this, as usual, is strictly pro-Elriel meta. If they are not your cup of tea and you wish to comment, please be civil and bring arguments supported by the text.

So many of us like to gaze and stare through the windows daily. Looking at the world behind the glass often is considered a form of tranquility that we feel. Windows are essentially doors that lead us to whatever lies behind them - the last border between being in one place and then in another. It isn't then surprising that windows serve as symbols and metaphors in literature. From the start, whenever I read a passage about windows in ACOWAR I was reminded of Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. You may ask why?

Emily Bronte used windows as symbolism in her work. They are very important for her characters and their personal arcs. They are symbols of barriers, misfortunes that characters face. Windows there are metaphors of various obstacles estranging Bronte's characters from achieving their hopes - realizing that the dreams they had will be not fulfilled. As I don't want to get spoilery with Wuthering Heights, I'm going to draw conclusions in a very neat manner. Bronte used windows as a connection to nightmares that one of the main characters was suffering from - it ties to the fact that in his nightmares he sees the person he had loved, haunting him. Because of the relationship with a said woman, the imagery of windows in this particular scene symbolizes death, an obstacle that stands between both of them. Throughout the book, we also get glimpses of how windows might be used as a metaphor for social classes and the contrast between them, and how Heathcliff and Catherine have to go about it. Along with the windows, doors are also used as a symbol of trapping someone in one place, obstructing them from achieving their dream or preventing them from reaching out to their loved one. Not to mention that during a very particular scene with Catherine, she wants the windows open - a symbolism of her wanting to feel free, to connect with something she knows, she longs for. This leads to the conclusion that windows in Bronte's novel are symbols of life and death, they are the in-between - a symbolic barrier.

On the other hand, windows in literature signalize something called "art of watching", and usually it is connected to a female protagonist that observes life, events through the window. Not to mention, the most famous association to windows such as "windows to the soul" - which, of course, is more metaphorical. It allows us, the audience, to connect with the character's inner feelings, struggles, as we are presented with the emotional aspect of said person. They are the bridge between the inside and outside. Windows are also a source of light, which we humans crave. Looking through the window one can absorb the light, which can resonate as a symbol of growth and change. Metaphorically we see the light from the window when we feel a need to light up the darkness inside us. They expose us, our inner feelings, and struggles.

When I read ACOWAR I have noticed that SJM decided to use windows, quite clearly, in the indication of two particular characters. Azriel and Elain. For the first time, when we met Elain again in the third book the window is a big issue.

"The suite was filled with sunlight. Every curtain shoved back as far as it could go, to let in as much sun as possible."

We have a clear description of the sunlit room, curtains shoved to further underline the need for light.

"And seated in a small chair before the sunniest of the windows, her back to us, was Elain."

In the brightest place in the room sits Elain, in front of the window. She is exposed to the sun, to sunlight and is absorbing that light - which is highlighted during this scene (which makes it important to note).

"Her skin was so pale it looked like fresh snow in the harsh light. I realized then that the color of death, of sorrow, was white."

The sunlight exposes Elain, its harsh light makes her pale, almost translucent. Even Feyre realizes the graveness of this picture comparing this white hue to death. As you can see the chain of events in this scene played like that: sunlit room -> curtain swept away -> Elain sitting in front of the window -> sudden comparison to death.

"She had been always so full of light. Perhaps that was why she now kept all the curtains open. To fill the void that existed where all of that light had once been. And now nothing remained."

Feyre deducts that the need for light on Elain's part is a desperate call to brighten the darkness inside her - which perfectly aligns with the metaphorical usage of windows. Elain basks in light in a helpless cry for help. The very dark void that appeared within her after being Made eats her away. It sucks her immortal life away - the one which she yet didn't get used to. On the other hand, we as readers are presented with the fact that Elain is trapped. In this Fae life, in this room, in this situation in which she grieves for her past and many what-ifs.

Nothing. Not even a flicker of emotion. “Everyone keeps saying that.” Her thumb brushed the ring on her finger. “But it doesn’t fix anything, does it?”

Sitting in front of the window - a sunny one to be precise, which symbolizes life, growth, and change, Elain is presented in a contrast to her surroundings. To show that visible barrier that her person has to overcome. She realizes that her dreams are meant to be unfulfilled, that they are unreachable.

"My stiff, limping steps, at least, had eased into a smoother gait by the time I found Elain in the family library. Still staring at the window, but she was out of her room."

The next time we see Elain she is out of her room - her "cage", but even though she left the boundaries of her entrapment she still chooses to linger around the windows. As Feyre notices, Elain gazes through the window - we are obstructed from Elain's POV and it's hard to imagine what she could be thinking about. Yet the symbolic manner of using the window as some sort of mirror, a passage that happens throughout the series, allows me to think that the metaphorical usage of windows, in this case, isn't a far-fetched idea.

"Elain didn’t turn. She was wearing a pale pink gown that did little to complement her sallow skin, her brown-gold hair hanging in loose, heavy ringlets down her thin back."

SJM uses this sentence to highlight that it isn't just a quick glance out of the window - in fact, it is constant staring through it. It is important for us as readers to note that this thing, window gazing, is an occupation that lasts for long periods of time. It isn't something trivial, it is something that showcases the importance of said windows in Elain's journey.

“What are you looking at?” I asked Elain, keeping my voice soft. Casual. Her face was wan, her lips bloodless. But they moved—barely—as she said, “I can see so very far now. All the way to the sea.”

Feyre decides to ask Elain who is still gazing through the window. Her answer is very ominous and holds a great deal of importance, but also underlines the fact that she is drawn to the window. Not to mention that what she is seeing is the sea - another vastly discussed symbol. In this situation, I believe that the interpretation can lay in a more psychological aspect of the matter rather than a literary one. In the works of very well-known psychiatrist Carl Jung the sea "symbolizes the personal and the collective unconscious in dream interpretation". So from his notes there comes this annotation that caught my attention, "The sea is a favourite place for the birth of visions."

Elain is a seer who constantly gazes through a window which symbolizes the in-between, life and death. These two are connected to one another and SJM used many things to further develop Elain's character as a powerful figure.

"Elain only turned toward the sunny windows again, the light dancing in her hair."

After the whole conversation Elain doesn't move from her spot, quite the contrary she returns to her previous activity. Gazing through the window. Once again we are reminded about the sun and light - which signalizes that Elain tries to undergo through the process of rebirth, but also tries to break free from the unhappiness that came with lost dreams.

"Something in my chest cracked as Nesta’s eyes also went to the windows before Elain. To check, as I did, for whether they could be easily opened."

Here we have an instance of both sisters realizing that Elain spending so much time in front of windows can be dangerous, as in her attempting to jump from them. Once again, the symbolism of death.

"More steps—no doubt closer to where Elain stood at the window."

Elain is still beside the window when Lucien tries to talk to her. Even alone she seeks the place next to the window to stare.

"But sunlight on gold caught his eye—and Elain slowly turned from her vigil at the window."

Elain is still by the window, for the whole scene she is there not moving an inch from it. Furthermore, the word "vigil" is also an interesting choice. There are different meanings of it, but I find these ones very telling and suitable for this instance: a period of sleeplessness; insomnia, a watch kept, or the period of this and a devotional watching, or keeping awake, during the customary hours of sleep. We can speculate about what happened to Elain while she was in the Cauldron, what made her so withdrawn from life and so desperate for the light. I want to believe that we as readers will get our answers in the next book since Elain being a seer with unknown powers makes her a perfect target for Koschei with which she has already had connections.

She looked away—toward the windows. “I can hear your heart,” she said quietly.

Again, during the whole conversation, she doesn't move away from her spot next to the window. Windows for her, start to become a symbolism of change and rebirth - the things she probably wished while being confined to her room.

Elain only stared out the window, unaware—or uncaring.

We have another mention about staring - which further highlights how important windows are as a literary tool for Elain's character. She seeks light, she wants to overcome this barrier that was thrown at her the moment she was Made. She, perhaps, watched through the window to observe the life which was stripped away from her and turned her into this immortal being. Or, maybe she just desperately wanted to brighten up the darkness that gathered inside her because of that whole situation. Another important thing to note is that this scene is a first moment alone with Lucien - her mate, which should have been very painful for her. The conversation also held a lot of weight, yet she valiantly stood by the window as if somewhere behind it she could find an answer.

“So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. What if”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden —“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

Here we have an instance of "art of watching" in which Feyre observes Azriel and Elain through the window. By watching them she comes to the conclusion that both of them are better suited and actually can comfort each other in comfortable silence. The window here is used as a barrier to showcase parallels of two couples: happily mated Feysand and unhappily in love with other people Elriel.

"But I looked to Azriel, currently leaning against the wall beside the floor-to-ceiling window, shadows fluttering around him."

And here we are start with Azriel and windows (also in ACOWAR). He is another character that has an extraordinary connection to windows. He is often mentioned next to them and somehow parallels Elain's behavior - staring through windows, being near them.

"I blinked, realizing I’d been lost in the bond, but found Azriel still by the window, (...)."

As we can see Azriel lingers next to the window without moving away from it - as the scene progresses we know that the conversation lasts a good ounce of time, yet Azriel stands in his place by the window.

"Azriel didn’t so much as turn from his vigil at the window, though I could have sworn his wings tucked in a bit tighter."

The same wording, the same imagery. Both used for Elain and Azriel. Both of them keeping vigils at the windows, staring through them as if they could find an answer through them.

"The main room of the guardhouse was stuffy and cramped, more so with all of us in there, and though I offered Elain a seat by the sealed window, she remained standing—at the front of our company. Staring at the shut iron door."

This scene is when Elain is about to confront her lover - Greysen. It is underlined that she rejected her usual spot, which is by the window, and preferred to face the door. She was trapped, she knew that a very important discussion will take a place here. She chose to look at the door rather than at the window, which in this matter could symbolize hope for a change - she stared at the door which metaphorically means transition or imprisonment.

"(...) close to Elain’s side as she and my sister silently kept against the wall by the intact bay of windows."

Another instance of Elain and her being content with being next to the windows.

"I’d seen Elain staring out the window earlier—watching Graysen leave with his men without so much as a look back at her."

"Art of Watching", but also the window's symbolism of dreams that were unfulfilled. At that moment, we can assume, that Elain realized that her dreams concerning human life and her future with Greysen would only be unattainable dreams/hopes.

“What now?” Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this … I think the world needs more gardens.

At the end of ACOWAR, we have this powerful moment, in which Elain gazing out of the window sees sunny streets = life. A chance of rebirth, which also beautifully overlaps with the fact that she proposed building a garden! The in-between that she balanced on while gazing through the window for so many times turned from death and misfortunes into life and hopes of the future.

ACOFAS

"Elain politely refused, taking up a spot in one of the wooden chairs set in the bay of windows. Also typical."

From Rhysand's point of view, we can deduct that even they are aware of the fact that Elain and windows are something notable. It is a place where she feels comfortable and probably spends a lot of time.

"Beyond the windows, darkness had indeed fallen. The longest night of the year. I found Elain studying it, beautiful in her amethyst-colored gown. I made to move toward her, but someone beat me to it."

In previous quotes, we could gather information about how Elain craved the light and how desperate she was to lighten up her person. Here, we can see that she also started to embrace the darkness. She is again by the window, observing the darkness as if no one else was around her. And of course, the one person who goes towards her at that moment is Azriel, a personification of darkness in the books.

Azriel strode to the lone window at the end of the room and peered into the garden below. “I’ve never stayed in this room.” His midnight voice filled the space.

Azriel went straight to the window. And not an ordinary one, but the one through which you can see the garden. Life and light. I know many were theorizing if what kept Azriel so occupied by the window was Elain, but I would love to put some of my thoughts in this discourse. Yes, I do think that what caught his attention, or who caught his attention was Elain. However, Elain at that moment represents life and light - the things that are associated with windows. And if you spin it around you have Azriel=darkness, death staring at Elain=light, life. The in-between, the very initial symbolism of window in literature. Not to mention that in this scene we have Azriel watching the light and next we have Elain observing darkness.

“No,” Azriel said, not turning from the window.

Azriel remained at the window. “Will Nesta stay here if she comes?

“I’d still be surprised if they remember once the storm clears,” Azriel said, turning from the garden window at last.

We have a whole scene in which it is so heavily implied that Azriel was constantly staring through the window, not even bothering to move away from it. We also have another highlighted thing which is the fact that it was a garden window.

There was a tiny box left on the table by the window—a box that Mor lifted, squinted at the name tag, and said, “Az, this one’s for you.”

A small thing, yet a very sweet one. The fact that even his present was placed close to the window, which starts to become an Elriel thing.

ACOSF

"She’d barely slept for fear of Elain walking off this veranda, or leaning too far out of one of the countless windows, or simply throwing herself down those ten thousand stairs."

We have a reminder that during her stay at House of Wind, Elain was a symbol of death. She carried it on her while being associated with windows that were used as a source of light that helped her heal.

"Elain stood at the wall of windows, clad in a lilac gown whose close-fitting bodice showed how well her sister had filled out since those initial days in the Night Court."

Even when she visits Nesta, she takes the place by the windows. It is something that is strictly connected to her. As if the windows were part of her now.

Elain’s smile was as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows. “I thought I’d drop by to see how you were doing.”

Light, sun, life = Elain.

“You’ve got good coloring, I mean,” Elain clarified, striding from the windows to cross the room. She stopped a few feet away. As if holding herself back from the embrace she might have given.

SJM still used the passages to underline the passage of time that Elain spent standing next to the window. It is a place in which she feels good and perhaps safe.

"They’d sat in them, before this fire, so many times that it was an unspoken rule that Azriel’s was the one on the left, closer to the window, and Cassian’s the one to the right, closer to the door."

We also get the information that Azriel always was the closest to the window - which is an odd thing to add without a deeper meaning. As if to further build up that connection between him and Elain - that both of them are aware of the fact that they are also the symbolism of the allegory of windows. I believe that SJM really researched that light and darkness trope, with which she built and she is still building up Elriel. The windows are just another tiny nugget that further envelopes both of them as one. Because while Elain transformed from death to life, she still welcomed darkness and embraced it - and Azriel opened to the life and light, seeking it. As I said, windows are a literary tool, which perhaps wasn't the main idea in the SJM text, but the amount of parallels between both of them and even the same wording applied to different scenes tells me that it's yet another connection between them.

#elriel #pro elriel #elriel meta #azriel x elain #elain and azriel #pro elain #pro azriel

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 3 years

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Monstrous Secrets Chapter 8

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 1720

Summary: You and a couple of the guys have a heart-to-heart

You were home, or rather, you were in the physical place where you lived. It was difficult to call Velaris ‘home’ when your home was really a person, your mate. It was even harder to call this place home since Azriel started looking at you like he wanted to spit on you at any given moment. You’d expected to be treated that way once everything came to light, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t loathe it with every fiber of your being.

It was in a fit of this general discontent that you found yourself sitting on the ground of the balcony outside the House of Wind’s library. A bottle of wine, half empty already based on the weight of it, dangled from your fingertips as you stared blankly into the fire and longed for the male that could make such flames dance like sprites. Eris’s notes from your time apart rested on the ground before you, some resting against or on your leg because you’d simply dropped them after reading.

“Cass told me I’d find you here,” Rhys said as his feet entered your field of view. “Though I’ll admit I thought he was exaggerating how much you’d been drinking.”

Your eyes darted over to the other two, empty bottles you’d abandoned back when you’d been sitting in a chair. “Yes, well, you know how my tolerance is.”

“Considering how many men you’ve drunk under the table? Yes, I’m fully aware.” Now, he brought himself low enough that he could meet your eye on your own level. The most powerful High Lord, kneeling beside his low fae cousin on the ground.

You snorted at the sheer ridiculousness. “Whatcha doing here, Rhys? I figured you’d be off with Feyre.”

“She had things to discuss with Amren or else she’d be here talking to you with me.”

You took another drink. “Well in that case, lay it on me.” Your arms spread wide dramatically, one hand holding the bottle, the other a letter; your wings flared slightly behind you in an effort to keep you balanced. “Ask me anything you want! I assume it’s about that gorgeous mate of mine.”

He rolled his eyes and took the bottle from you. “I won’t insult you bya skiing what Azriel wants me to.” Rhysand took a long drink.

“Oooooh, let me guess!” You did your best to make your face as stoic as the shadowsinger’s. “Have I been selling secrets to the Autumn Court?”

“Close,” he snickered. “Has she been giving away secrets to the Autumn Court?”

You scoffed. “As if I’d give them away for free!”

“Sweetheart, you’d never spill them either way.” His eyes were somber, caring. “You would never betray us like that, so I have no need to ask.”

“Then what do you need to ask?”

“First, I want to ask about your bargain.”

“You makin’ sure I didn’t give away anything important?”

“I want to know that it was your choice to make whatever deal it was.”

Your brain stalled out in light of his genuine concern after so many days of people being wary of you, and your buzz fizzled a little because of it. “It was a deal of protection,” you explained seriously. “He’ll watch my back as long as I watch his sort of thing.” You stole back the bottle to take another drink. “And what a fucking job I did.”

“You couldn’t have done anything against her,” he assured you, “and if you had tried, more likely than not, you’d both be dead right now.”

“Whatever, Rhys,” you scoffed. “What else?”

“You are not less than him because you’re Illyrian.” You’d known the topic was coming, but you didn’t expect him to be quite so blunt. “And if he treats you like you are, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Then you can stop worrying, because he doesn’t. Hasn’t even said anything to imply it--get that look off your face right now. Anything he said to you was an act because we were backed into a nightmare of a corner, and you know it. Anyway, he hasn't made any jabs implying it--accidentally or otherwise--since we first got together.”

“Put a stop to that, did you?” He was smirking as he swiped the bottle back to drink once again.

“Of course.” You hesitated. “But he and I are both aware of what others will think; just look at your parents. That’s why, or at least part of why, we kept quiet about the whole thing.”

Rhysand was nodding as if pleased.

“That all you’ve got, cousin?”

A little snort escaped his nose. “As far as being concerned goes, we’ll say yes for now.”

“And as far as everything else?”

“Since you’ve so cruelly left your poor cousin in the dark about your relationship for--how long was it again?”

“‘Bout five hundred years--”

“Five hundred years! Because you've left me in the dark for so long, I want to know everything about the two of you.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” He waved a hand a little. “That you’re willing to share, of course.”

“Rhys . . . I don’t . . .” You weren’t used to this. You’d never had to share anything about your relationship before. You weren’t good at talking about yourself. “I don’t know where to start.”

A low hum rumbled through the air along with the telling thuds of someone else’s boots.

“Why don’t you start with that letter you’re holding?” Cassian abruptly dropped down next to you, so close he was lightly pressed against your side. It was such a casual closeness that the pair of you had had for centuries, and you didn't realize how much you loved it until it was missing. Its presence now brought tears to your eyes, but none fell.

Blinking them back, you stammered, “Um. It’s how we talked . . . when we couldn’t see each other.” A self-deprecating chuckle ripped its way up from your throat. “Apparently he’d been sending them since just after Amarantha, and I never knew since I don’t live down there anymore. I’m only just now getting around to reading them.” Carelessly, you handed it over to Cassian. “You can read it if you want; I was going through them all, but I can’t exactly see straight enough to read anymore.”

He eyed you warily before opening it gently. Clearing his throat before he read,

“I hope you are doing well, and I hope moreso that you have not finally come to your senses and decided to leave me. I’ve been trying to keep my emotions from bothering you in case you have, but Father has proven to be harsher than ever before in light of everything that has happened over the last half-century. It’s all I can do to keep him from deciding to hunt down Lucien.

Cauldron, I don’t even know if you’re receiving these messages or if you even care and yet here I am droning on about my own problems. I’ll leave this here, then.

I miss you, and I love you always,

Eris”

Both men were silent for a breath.

“Who would have thought that Eris Vanserra of all people would be so rambling in a letter?” Cassian eventually teased--only slightly awkwardly--to break the quiet.

“He stopped trying to be eloquent in our notes about five years in.” Your buzz was definitely on the way out now, and you found yourself listlessly leaning against Cassian. Neither male commented about the more romantic sentiments in the letter. You wondered why that was. For your privacy or their own comfort so they didn’t have to think about the fact that Eris did in fact have feelings.

“What’s the first thing you think of when you think about him?” Rhysand prompted quietly, obviously wanting to know more about the relationship despite the awkward aura that’d descended upon the little group.

It may have been because you were actively looking at a fire, but you didn’t really have to think about the words that came tumbling out of your mouth. “Did you know that he can make shapes out of flames? He used to make little dogs and foxes to play with Lucien when Beron would upset him.”

“I thought he hated that kid,” Cassian mused.

“He had to keep his distance to keep Beron’s attention away from him; he swore to his mother that he’d protect him.”

“What else comes to mind?”

You swallowed thickly. “He interrogated me about how to care for my wings when I showed up injured once.”

Rhys’s violet eyes flashed. “Injured?”

“Took a bad crash through some trees on the way to see him; I think I was dodging some scouts. Either way, he hounded me about it until I taught him all I could.”

“Seriously?” Cassian again.

“Yeah.” You could feel the dopey smile spread across your face, but you didn’t want to stop it. “Cleaning, first-aid, the whole deal. And the best part? He never has cold hands.”

“Unlike you, huh?” Rhys teased. “Nothing but cold hands.”

“Truer words never spoken,” and unexpected but familiar voice said from behind you.

As soon as you laid eyes on him, you were stumbling to your feet.

There was a warmth in his eyes that had nothing to do with flames when he caught you and pulled you close.

Immediately, you buried your face in his neck. “How?” you whispered into the pale skin there.

Eris’s hand moved to rest atop your wing where it was tucked against your back, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “That would be a question for your High Lady.”

You glanced over your shoulder and saw that, sure enough, Feyre was now holding hands with the now-standing Rhys. “I thought you were with Amren?”

“I lied,” Rhys shrugged. “Eris was down there plotting with Keir, so I asked her to go grab him for you since you’ve been feeling down.”

When tears started welling up in your eyes, you blamed the alcohol. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, little cousin. Now, I think it’s time for us to turn in.” His eyes shifted to look at your mate; surprisingly his gaze wasn’t near as icy as you would have expected. “Take care of her.”

“Until my dying breath.”

“Never a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with you people,” Cassian scoffed, “is there?”

You smirked on behalf of your husband. “Never.”

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra imagine #eris imagine #eris x reader #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses imagine #reader insert

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nestasgalpal · 2 years

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The empty apartment [Gwynriel]

@gwynrielweek2022 day 5: What the Future Holds

Nesta’s Gal Pal Masterlist | AO3

Synopsis: omg they were roommates... and all of a sudden he disappears without a trace

A/N: Yes, the charity line is canon according to ACOFAS. Enjoy!!

Gwyn walked to the river house with urgency, her feet barely touching the ground before they took the next step. Her hair was wet and cascaded over her shoulders, since she had run out of the apartment as soon as she noticed Azriel wasn't there, the sink still full of last night's diner dishes and his bedroom's door locked.

The entry to the building the High Lady had built for herself was magnificent, not a leaf out of place in the front gardens. The gate opened at her touch, as if its magic guards recognized her as a welcomed guest. She had never been inside the building, and her jaw dropped at the sight of the interiors. The hall alone reunited more luxuries than she had seen in her entire life.

"My lady?" She called for Nesta's sister, who she had only met on counted occasions.

No answer.

Gwyn dared get inside without invitation, having decided she would blame either Nesta or Azriel himself if she got caught and screamed at by Feyre Archeron. She would lie and tell they had invited her to come inside whenever she needed to. Gwyn wondered the place and was quick to understand the floor plan, which made finding the High Lady a whole lot easier.

Feyre was behind her desk. The pile of paperwork in front of her forced the female to get up from the chair to see who was breaking the silence of her studio so early in the morning.

"My lady."

"Gwyneth! What do I owe the pleasure?" She tried to be cordial, although Gwyn could read in her face some awkward tension at not having been able to notice her sooner.

She gave the High Lady her best smile, and was answered with a similar one. Feyre always tried to cause Gwyn a good impression. Gwyn often theorized it was because she was the first fae out of her high society circle of friends she saw as somehow part of her life. She was only Nesta's friend, but for all she knew, Feyre had no close contact with any other peasant, only quick greetings in town, or maybe a brief conversation in her art studio.

Another reason could be that, knowing how close knitted her relationship with Nesta, Azriel and Cassian was, the High Lady had offered Gwyn the opportunity to become a citizen of the Night Court the day she decided to leave the library. Three moths had passed, and the ex priestess still hadn't given her and answer.

Knowing Feyre's background with the Spring Court, where Gwyn was from and where she had spent all of her life, she understood why the High Lady became so insistent on her choosing to leave the place behind and pick a life in the Night Court instead. There was a deeper meaning to the act. But Gwyn hadn't run for half an hour to this house to discuss that.

"Hello, my Lady. I apologize if I disturbed your work. I only came here hoping to find Azriel."

"You can call me Feyre, it's okay. And please, come have a seat."

Guiding her to a sofa in the opposite wall of the studio, Feyre sat down and Gwyn followed suit. She seemed to be perfectly chill about the sudden absence of Azriel in Velaris that morning, so either she had the answers Gwyn was looking for, or she hadn't put into her words the amount of urgency required.

"You can call me Gwyn as well. Everyone does, really." She shallowed hard, not wanting to be rude, but feeling the task of controlling her emotions harder every second. "So, about Az... Do you know where I can find him?"

"Oh, you needn't worry about him. Az will be back soon, we had to send him into a quick mission."

"Where?" Gwyn demanded to know. She would follow him there if necessary.

The High Lady was, once again, perfectly calm in a practiced way, as she did her best to ignore Gwyn's urgency and try to divert the conversation. "How is everything going, by the way? I haven't have the opportunity to talk to you in private since you left the House of Wind last month."

It hadn't shocked anyone that Feyre showed up that morning. Gwyn had moved from the House to Azriel's apartment in the city, and apparently, he had shared very little about their relationship with his family. In consequence, Rhysand, Morrigan and Feyre would happen to pass by the House on her last days there to help them move the boxes to her new home. Pure selfless kindness.

"Everything is fine, I love the house and the location. I am only missing Az now!" She was determined to insist as much as needed until Feyre run out of small talk topics and told her where the shadowsinger was.

For a moment, Gwyn feared she would end up walking back home with no answers and without him. Feyre just kept talking.

"I helped rebuilt an edification in the area after the war. I felt like it was my duty as High Lady to do as much as I could for Velaris." She sighed, as if the memories made her feel defeated. "But they sent me home after two days. They thanked me for everything I did, but they said I was helping too much..."

Gwyn chuckled at the joke.

The mild sadness in Feyre's semblance let her know that the female wasn't joking. She believed every word, and that there was such thing as "helping too much" in a place that was still trying to get back to normal after two years. She made no comments, but also couldn't help but remember the luxuries she had seen first on the outside of this manor, then on the inside of its hallways, and feel a bit of anger mixing with everything else that was already in her head.

Smiling with kindness and trying to be as empathetic as possible, she pushed for answers again.

"So, where has Azriel been sent? Anywhere I could reach him?"

Back to the present, Feyre regained her regal posture. Gwyn had the older sister impulse to tell her it was okay, she needn't be the all mighty Feyre Cursebreaker right now, only tell her where in hell he was. That this wasn't a Court business, but the visit of a... well, a friend, for the lack of a better word.

"He went with Cass and Rhys to Illyria first thing this morning. He's been hearing rumors of a new uprising and they are measuring how serious it is. But he will be back soon, I promise!"

"For how long has he known he would have to leave today?" Gwyn was frowning, and maybe she snapped too quickly.

Feyre was taken by surprise by her desperation to know. She took Gwyn's hand, the ink covering the back of it contrasting against Gwyn's paleness.

"You don't have to worry. It was only a quick visit to check on the Illyrian ranks." She tried to put into her words all the confidence she had in Rhysand and his brothers, trying to reassure her that everything would be okay. "Az will be back safe and sound. He is the Spymaster of the Night Court, after all. A trained soldier feared in every corner of our continent and beyond." Feyre finished, hoping to mitigate Gwyn's fears.

The redhead's smile was faked, Feyre could probably tell.

"Well..." She began, condescension impossible to hide anymore, "the Spymaster of the Night Court, the trained soldier feared in every corner of our continent and beyond, left without doing the dishes. Again. So if you don't mind, Feyre, I will wait here for his triumphant arrival."

Feyre blinked, then a loud laugh escaped her mouth. The High Lady was cracking up, her shoulders suddenly relaxed. She palmed Gwyn's hand and let it go.

"You are more than welcomed." Now that she got what the ex priestess was doing in her house, Feyre gave her a mischievous smile.

Half an hour was approximately what the two of them waited for the illyrians to be winnowed back by Rhysand. If they hadn't been so lazy and had made the way back flying, maybe Azriel would have been able to sense Gwyn's presence in the river house, but the winnowing didn't allow him to send his shadows ahead to explore.

The moment his feet touched the expensive carpet of Feyre's studio, Azriel's eyes were on Gwyn.

"You bitch ass bat!" She shouted immediately.

Azriel gave a step back for each the female gave towards him, his palms in the air, silently asking her for peace. Gwyn furiously walked the distance between them, ignoring everyone else in the room.

The opportunity to hear Az explain himself was denied to Feyre and a smiling Cassian, as the feared Spymaster of the Night Court took the redhead by the arm and shadows swallowed the two of them away from the river house.

#gwynriel #gwynriel fic #gwynriel fanfiction #gwyneth berdara #gwyn acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x gwyn #gwyn x azriel

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

Note

For a prompt I saw a commissioned fan art of nesta with fairy (/insect?) wings and I have absolutely not been able to stop thinking about it. Imagine nesta had then the whole time but was able to hide them?? They accidentally come out or someone senses the magic she uses to hide them??

I did originally plan for Nesta to be sick and to sneeze so they shoot out, but changed my plan entirely. I'm guessing it's based on this gorgeous Nesta art! Hope you enjoy.

‘There was once a beautiful little prince who was doted on by his mother and father and all of his family. He had everything he wanted. And then he turned two and became a demon.’

Nesta threw back the curtains, hoping to find her nephew hidden behind them. No luck. Recently, he had become far too good at hide and seek. Nyx had also developed an incredibly accurate aim each time he threw a wooden toy. Elain had sworn off babysitting him for a while after she’d been hit on the ear with a lump of wood whilst picking up his other discarded toys. Feyre and Rhys indulged his every whim so he becoming spoilt. It was left to mean, aunt Nesta to instil some discipline.

When she’d ordered him to pick up the mess he’d made in the lounge, he had winnowed away. Despite his magic coming in early – very early – it wasn’t particularly strong yet. He’d somehow worked out how to winnow, but only got as far as the next room. It was enough of a head start from him to hide from Nesta.

‘Nyx, I am counting to three and if you are not out by then…’ She let her warning hang in the air because there was no outcome. If he did not come out then she wouldn’t find him.

Cassian usually watched him with her. At the moment, the heir to the Night Court needed every pair of eyes possible on him. He was pilfering items from Rhys desk and destroying them. He’d bitten Mor hard enough to break the skin when she tried to put him to bed. Nyx had even got into Feyre’s studio at home and smeared paint all over her canvasses. She put on a brave face and made out like it was Nyx expressing himself.

A giggle sounded above her head.

Nesta glanced up to see Nyx perched on a beam in the high roof. His chubby legs dangled down from it. Even if she stood on a chair, she’d never reach him.

‘I suppose you think you are terribly clever.’

His little, black wings twitched in answer to her words. He might have looked an angel with his crop of dark hair and dimpled cheeks, but Nesta knew this boy was more demon.

‘Down. Now.’

He blew a raspberry in dismissal then flew to another beam.

‘Fine,’ Nesta snapped. We’ll only be gone about half an hour. Of course, you will, Feyre, Nesta thought. That had been four hours ago. Four hours alone with Nyx who made it his personal mission to cause chaos.

She stripped her dress off, casting it without care onto the back of a chair. She stood only in her undergarments, blood pounding in her ears. Her bare back ached. Nesta visualised a thread, imagined herself tugging it tight then felt the familiar tingle erupt along her spine.

A set of wings spread out and she loosed a hiss through her teeth. Nesta still hadn’t quite worked out whether she could shift them or glamour them. Nobody knew of them. Nobody ever would. The last thing she needed was to be the king-slaying, Cauldron-made freak with wings that nobody else had.

A few days after the Cauldron, she had showered in the hottest water she could bear. Her back had itched terribly. Nesta had scratched and scratched until the skin bled. She took a look in the mirror, twisting her neck to examine it. There they had been: two sets wings, each one folded up like the bud of a flower. Over the coming days, they had unfurled and she had wept. Not only was she a faerie, but a winged one too. In those days of caring for Elain, Nesta was glad they were mostly left alone in the House of Wind. She scoured library books in solitude with a blanket wrapped around her to hide them until she discovered a way to hide them from view.

Sometimes, even when gone from sight, they ached with disuse. Only when the house was empty would Nesta allow them free. She’d do loops of the house to stretch them. They were unsteady at first. The bruises on her legs were explained away as drunken falls rather than crashing into the furniture because she didn’t know how to land.

Nesta did not loathe them anymore. As a matter of fact, she quite liked them. They were not like the wings of the Illyrians or the Peregryns. Hers were far more delicate, like the wings of an insect. The system of veins running through it were burgundy, pink, indigo and even silver. The thin membrane shimmered when the sun caught it. They weren't disgusting, in fact they were really quite beautiful. The last thing she needed was more people staring at her though, knowing that she was yet again more different.

She hadn’t ever let them out in the open, but her flight paths were different to the Illyrians. Their wings were made for power and speed. Hers allowed her to hover or flutter on the spot without creating gusts of wind.

Telling her family that for the last few years she had been hiding a double set of wings was now impossible. Even Cassian had no inkling that they existed. So many times, he’d run his hands over her spine and felt nothing.

Nyx stared at her from the beam. Nesta kept her face stern as she flew up to him, careful not to hit her head on the roof.

His wings spread as he leapt towards the door.

‘We are not doing this today,’ she warned.

Nyx’s shriek of amusement suggested otherwise. Nesta was quicker than her nephew though slightly less agile. He had managed to get into the hallway when her hands had seized him around the middle. In her arms, he grappled to get free, but Nesta landed gracefully and kept a firm hold.

‘It’s time for your nap. It was time for it two hours ago!’

A clatter sounded at the other end of the hall.

Azriel stood opposite them. His sword had fallen from his hand with a crash. In all the years that Nesta had known the stoic shadow singer for, she had never once seen him shocked – at least until now.

Hazel eyes were fixed upon her wings.

‘You have wings.’

‘No. No, no, no. No.’ Nesta hurried to him, keeping a squirming Nyx bundled against her side. Not thinking, she pressed a finger against his lips. ‘I don’t have wings.’

He jerked back from her touch incredulously. ‘I can see them!’

Nesta grappled with that invisible string in her mind, furiously untying the mental knot in it until it went slack. Her spine tingled as if heat spread from the centre and Nesta knew her wings had disappeared.

‘Take your nephew. He’s being naughty.’

Wordlessly, Azriel took Nyx from her arms. Despite being in her underwear, she never had to fear the shadow singer taking advantage. He was respectful enough to keep his eyes on her face now that her wings had gone.

‘What you think you saw… you didn’t see it.’

‘I didn’t see you chasing Nyx half-way in the air?’

Nesta swallowed. ‘So little sleep can cause delusions.’

Nyx thrashed in Azriel’s arms. His grizzling was a tell-tale sign of how tired he was. He’d pushed through the nap he was supposed to have hours ago and was now more irritable than ever. Az shifted him slightly, cocooning him tighter against him. Still, those eyes didn’t waver from hers.

‘Please, don’t tell anybody. Don’t tell Cassian.’

‘You have wings,’ he repeated. ‘You don’t want to fly with us?’

Of course, while Nesta had considered herself to be more of a freak when the Cauldron spat her out with unholy fire and insect wings, these people did not bat an eyelid. It was normal to them – wings or horns.

‘I have never flown properly. Not outside ever.’

Azriel gave a stiff nod. ‘I’ll keep your secret, Nesta, on one condition. You come flying with me – in private – but you’re learning how to fly.’

#it's actually short for once!#nesta archeron #nyx #azriel

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wisteriabookss · 3 years

Text

Everything wrong with ACOSF

- A c-section would kill Feyre and is impossible to do, yet when Cassian’s guts were literally hanging out of him he can get sewn up just fine?

- Rhysand upset = Feyre blowjob. Cassian upset = Nesta blowjob. Apparently there’s only one way to use our mouths to cheer up our partners.

- Gwyn mentioned multiple times that the priestesses have therapists . . . so why doesn’t that extend beyond the library? Is that so we reserve the illusion that Feyre’s art lessons are the only therapy needed for war?

- Amren

- SJM retconned how Rhys’s powers get passed down. In the first 3 books it was only passed down to any family member/relative, and now it can be passed to a random stranger. what was the point of this?

- am i really supposed to believe that Gwynn, Emerie, and Nesta had the power to fight off novice Illyrians in the Rite, who have been trained for hundreds of years, when they’ve only been training for a few months? how does this logically make any sense?

- that whole High King bullshit, chile please.

- Nyx is a terrible name, sorry. Shit does not roll off any tongue.

- oh, did I mention Amren?

- The stupid colloquialisms. This worlds been alive for eons, and they don’t have words to describe depression, anxiety, or PTSD other than trauma, yet Cassian knows what lactic acid is and what it means?

- the way there is apparently no way to fix Emeries wings that are still intact, yet Cassian was able to basically regrow his after they had been described as shredded wet paper??

- so was it because Cassian was doing all the pining the last three books that Nesta had to do all of it in this one?

- sorry, just real quick, have I mentioned Amren?

- even after all that healing Nesta still thinks herself undeserving of Cassian’s love as if he’s been a saint the whole way through

- I’m sorry but every time Nesta went, “Cassian is good, Cassian is brave, Cassian is honorable,” i’m sitting over her like, did you forget that time when he called you unlovable?

- why oh why did miss sjm feel the need to repeat the “your mine-im yours” line with Nessian like Feysand? Its WEIRD.

- Nesta getting on her knees to apologize to Amren when Amren has been nothing but a bitch. Nesta using Amren as a shield against her problems didn’t warrant her being described as a pathetic waste of life, sorry not sorry.

- absolutely no character arc for Cassian

- Elain accusing Nesta that she only cared about how her own trauma affected her, after Nesta just tried to protect Elain from further trauma by telling her to not look for the Trove.

- Rhys refusing to believe the good in Nesta after repeatedly seeing signs of her changing. mans literally saw inside her mind when she was in the cauldron and went, “Her trauma is … I guessed,” Rhys breathed, “but it was different to feel it.”” and yet he STILL acted like an asshole after presumably understanding what was going on inside her head.

- the relationship with Mama Archeron should have been flushed out more. It’s obvious Nesta had the best relationship with their mom, and she loved her, so why was this never discussed?

- our woke feminist queen Rhys, who once told Feyre that she is in charge of all her choices and decisions, kept secret the knowledge of her, her babies, and her husbands potential death from her “to not upset her.”

- no one apologized to Nesta?

- Briallyn plot was solved in one page after being stretched for 700 pages.

- We never got a dramatic ass scene where Nesta shows her powers against someone. That silver fire bed scene does not count, and neither does Briallyns death. Neither were big enough to hold a candle to what her power has been described as in the last two books. We DESERVED to see that power dammit.

- Nesta crying over Papa Archeron did not sit right with me. mans left you and your sisters to basically fend for yourselves, and when Nesta finally breaks down it’s over how she couldn’t save him? Not cute.

- Nesta giving back Ataraxia to Rhys, even though it’s not his to give back to, after we just had a whole moment of finding out it meant Inner Peace

- Nesta losing most of her power at the end was just stupid. Her relationship with her power needed it’s own arc as well, and that was stripped away cause of stupid Feysand and their stupid decisions, coupled with SJM’s inability to outline her books properly.

this is all for now, comment down below if you guys wanna add anything :)

#acosf #a court of silver flames #nesta #cassian #nessian #rhysand #feyre #rhys #feysand

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unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years

Text

Master Post of things I wanted to post while reading ACOSF- mostly humour/ crack lol (Spoilers... Duh...)

First, general opinion: I liked the book generally. I knew it would be very Feysand friendly and I was prepared for that. Not my first choice but I get it. I really had to take a few hours off with the whole hiking scene. That really fucked with me to see Cassian so pissed and militant despite already knowing where Nesta was coming from and how betrayed she felt (ESPECIALLY once I learned that he had guessed they were mates already). I know that self loathing was a major theme but I do think it was laid on a little too thick for too long. I also think there was so much Nessian interaction when things were angsty and then when they were happy I was just WAITING for that full chapter of soft happiness and I feel like a lot of that got lost to Nesta’s relationship with her sister. Above everything though I gotta say that it BREAKS MY HEART that Cassian never actUlly says I love you to Nesta at any point in the book. I know it’s meant to be that he’s always loved her and it’s his actions that show it etc etc but it’s still kind of a blow for him to never say it... never even outright think it in his own perspective (go back and look the closest he gets is saying he’s acting like a lovesick puppy. We only get to see Cassian loving Nesta from her perspective as she realizes it which I get and is beautiful but maybe ONE DECLERATION THANKS). Anyway, I am hoping that opportunity arises in future books. Although.... I don’t think I will read the future books. Maybe I will, but honestly this was just SO MUCH. Like... I think there was too much in the book. Each of these quests could have been its own book and I was happy to keep going because I’m obsessed with Nesta, but I just don’t think I’d be interested enough in the other characters to read something so convoluted again (like I’m sorry the blood rite started with basically 100 pages left that is WILD). It was also so clear that so much of this book was setup for future books and that’s fine but it was kinda messy just being honest. ANYWAY onto more specific thoughts/ jokes:

Chapter 2:

Cassian: I just hope that Nesta knows we are doing this for her benefit, because we care.

Feyre: I don’t care this shit ends now. I’m burning your apartment to the ground.

Also Cassian: *Let’s Nesta fall down a flight of stairs*; *calls Nesta pathetic every day*; *tells Nesta everyone hates her*; *walks around slamming doors all pissy as if he’s the one being held captive*

Chapter 11:

Nesta:Rhysand is an asshole

Me:

Cassian: well everyone fucking hates you

Me:

The way that Cassian thinks about Russet Potato is just straight up not healthy. Like I get looking up to a sibling or whatever but I’m starting to think that Rhys is Cassian’s one true love. Cassian being THAT blind to every one of Rhysand’s flaws is a character flaw of his own. Even Feyre isn’t THAT blind.

Chapter 11 Pt 2:

Nesta from day one: I’m not training in that camp. I hate that camp. I’m not training there. Fuck that camp

Cassian: this is because you hate me, isn’t it?

Me:

Like I’m sorry did we really need Feyre to show up to help him crack that code???

Chapter 10 (and beyond):

My OTP? Nesta and the House of Wind.

It’s a solid enemies to lovers story (chapter 6 she says even the house hates her then later it’s her only friend and ally. Great love story.)

It reveals its heart to her before Cassian does

It knows what she needs

Gave her water on the steps instead of watching her fall down them

Pushes Nesta gently by keeping the fire so Cassian can see that she is afraid and haunted instead of empty and broken. Encourages her to go to dinner with people by barring the library but doesn’t FORCE her to go. The house does not judge her.

Spoils her and is silly with her while she has her sleepover.

Takes an active interest in something important to her and shares one of her hobbies

Side note- this book even has me pissed at the IC about how they treated a damn house!! Like how dare they say no one likes going there! How dare they be so rude to my new #1 favorite book character??? The house just wants to give you cake and books and run you a bath. Perfect partner IMO.

Chapter 17:

Me when Cassian does the bare fucking minimum and tells Rhys to calm the fuck down and stop threatening to kill Nesta:

Chapter 21:

When Rhys said that Nesta always has a choice here I said, out loud, “that’s fucking rich rice ball”. My dog looked up. That’s all.

Chapter 21 (and beyond) pt 2:

Prythian: mating bonds are very rare

Archeron sisters: survey says that was a lie

Prythian: fae fertility is very difficult. Conceiving can take decades

Archeron sisters: survey says that too was a lie

Prythian: No High Fae can survive the birth of an Illyrian winged baby

Archeron sisters: once again, the survey is not on your side here

Chapter 42:

Rhys: this is a bad idea

Cassian: that should be written on the Night Court’s crest

Me, wine glass raised to mouth, scoff more bitter than necessary: yeah it Fucken should”

Chapter 42 pt 2:

Yknow I was genuinely shocked by one thing in ACOSF. I was shocked that Rhysand and I agree on something.

He absolutely fucking shouldn’t be High King.

The mere SUGGESTION that Nesta’s power and fight and trauma and depression and war and entire FUCKING STORY has all been so that Rice cake and French fry can be a high king and queen literally set my blood BOILING at exactly the point in the book that I was starting to VIBE

Side note- Can we please just Fucken stop with the stars blinking in and out of existence in Rhys’ eyes. Like calm down. Rice pilaf has purple night eyes we get it. Just like... simmer please.

Chapter 46:

I GET that it shouldn’t have come out like that and that Nesta’s reasons weren’t right, but get ABSOLUTELY FUCKED RHYSAND for thinking that it is your right to HIDE THE DANGERS OF LABOUR FROM A WOMAN WHO DOES NOT KNOW YOUR SPECIES!!! This had me truly wildin and I think it was a disservice to Feyre’s character too that she didnt lose it more.

Chapter 55 (and earlier):

Cassian: *bows to death as Nesta emerges from the black depths on a throne to rule her undead armies*

Cassian: *watches bleeding as Nesta plucks the harp and wields her Made sword of death to murder Lanthys and claim the ability to stop time itself*

Nesta: So, now I go after the crown

Cassian:

Chapter 57 (and earlier):

Kelpie: You shall be my bride before you are my meal

Helion: *rides enchanted horse up to shoot his second shot with Nesta*

Lanthys: Tries to seduce Nesta into being his Queen even as he attempts to kill her

Eris: I’ll give you anything in exchange for Nesta as my bride

Cassian watching every male being in the universe trying to get with his mate:

Chapter 60:

Emerie: we’re not entering the blood rite, are we?

Cassian: Only if you want to

Brialynn:

Chapter 80:

Nesta: *Saves Cassian’s life in the war*

Rhys: I still hate you and will never forgive you for what you did in not hunting as a child.

Nesta: saves Feyre and Nyx

Rhys: I bow before no one and nothing but my crown and now I shall fall to my knees before you oh mighty saviour queen of all

Side note- can someone please compile a list of all the things that Nesta Archeron had done/retrieved/gone through for the Nigh Court because that shit is astronomical at this point and I really need everyone to start sipping their Respect Nesta Archeron Juice RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!

Anyway I’m emotionally wrecked but shoutout to anyone who made it this far into my ramblings!

#nessian #acosf spoilers #a court of silver flames spoilers #a court of silver flames #nesta archeron #cassian #anti rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #nesta and cassian #a court of mist and fury #nestaxcassian #sarah j maas #a court of wings and ruin #acotar

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capituloperdido1 · 3 years

Text

Traitor Pt 3 (Final)

Hello everyone!

So happy that you guys liked my little story, i am hoping to write much more in the future. So please let me know if there is anything in particular you would like to read. Here is pt3 and last part of the Traitor fic. There is a 'prequel' and it is very angsty, if you guys want that as well let me know.

Enjoy!

It had been three days, three days without seeing Azriel. He didn't show to practice, neither he looked for her in the library.

Coward, coward, coward

She was so mad, how was saying sorry so hard for him?

Or was he embarrassed that he lost to her? no, Azriel would never be embarrassed about that. He was just too afraid to face her.

Or maybe he didn't care, maybe he wanted to fix things with Elain and not her.

Yeah, that might be the answer.

That afternoon Nesta had asked her to come over to the house of wind and stay over with her while Cassian was away in a mission. She climbed the stairs of the library, while preparing to be in the same house as Azriel.

He was not talking to her, fine, she would not talk to him.

Nesta was waiting for her at the door, "please don't kill me, please, please". She said while grabbing Gwyns bags, "my sisters came over for dinner and have not left, i can kick them out but we have to wait a bit for Rhysand to leave Nyx at Amren's"

She smiled

Perfect this night has started perfectly.

"Of course, yeah no problem."

They arrived at the room, and Gwyn felt panic rising to her throat at the sight of the middle Archeron sister. She was probably pissed at Gwyn for all that had happened, she probably hated Gwyn because of it.

"Hi Gwyn!" said Feyre.

"Feyre" she bowed, "thank you for having me".

Elain looked at her, smiled, and kept talking to Feyre.

Well, that's better than the slap she had expected.

She sat besides Nesta and prayed that her High Lord would come soon.

------

An hour past, and the four women were tangled in a conversation about wine when a knock came at the door.

Gwyn felt a tug at her chest; he is here it seemed to say.

Fuck.

"Im sorry to interrupt ladies" a breathy voice said, " i am here for my high lady and her sister". She turned around and faced the male speaking, he wore rather casual clothing compared to the illyrian leathers. His black tight shirt and cargo black pants accentuated his muscles, and his hair was messier than usual.

His eyes landed on hers, and his slight smirk fell.

Oh, great. I'm not happy to see you either, she thought.

Elain stood and quickly walked towards Azriel, but he did not break Gwyns stare; not even while he grabbed the arms of both women and they said bye to Nesta and her.

He looked at Nesta, "is this... a sleep over?" he said softly.

"yes, and you are very much not invited" Nesta responded.

He smirked, "ill be back" he looked at Gwyn.

"Don't leave" he said.

She looked away.

"Please" he said to her, his voice pained and desperate.

And with that, he left.

Nesta smiled and crossed her arms. "You planned this didn't you?" Gwyn asked her sister, "mhm, he helped me get a mate i help him find the balls to talk to you" she answered.

-----------

Gwyn was not one for drinking, but waiting for Azriel to come had made her so anxious that she had considered asking the house for Cassian's oldest bottle of Whiskey to drink it all by herself. Instead, she had been served a big, fat piece of chocolate cake; accompanied by water.

Nesta was in front of her, watching with admiration as Gwyn devoured the cake.

Mother, she loved chocolate.

The tug at her heart began once more, the feeling of comfort and hurt that Azriel brought upon her growing as the seconds flew by.

"He is here" she whispered to Nesta, "I am not ready to face him".

"He is not ready to face you" she answered.

A soft knock came at the door, and the creak of the wooden door was the most terrifying thing Gwyn had ever heard.

"Shadowsinger" Nesta said, "you are just on time". Nesta stood, grabbed Gwyns hand and squeezed it softly, "i need to go fix some paperwork for Cassian, could you please stay with Gwyn while i come back?"

Really Nesta? Thanks.

"Sure, thank you" he answered.

-----------

She did not feel Nesta leaving, neither she looked up to see where Azriel stood in the room. Her hands had become the most entertaining thing in the world at that moment, and nothing would change that.

"Gwyn" he called.

She felt him getting closer, and it took all her will not to jump to his arms.

He stopped, "please, look at me".

"No" she said, "you don't get to demand for me to stay, for me to talk to you, for me to look at you".

Cauldron was he clueless, did he not have a sense of communication?

He is trying, the voice of her heart seemed to say.

"I know that, but... I need... I need to see your eyes" Azriel said. Slowly, she felt him kneel in front of her; not too close as to startle her, but close enough that she could feel the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar filling her nose.

"May i touch you?" He said, stretching his hand towards her.

Yes, please

She only nodded softly.

His hands grabbed her chin and lifted it to face him. "There you are" he smiled, "there they are". His eyes looked deeply into hers, as if he was trying to memorize each feature in them; he seemed... desperate to memorize her. As if what he was about to say would make her disappear from his side forever.

" I have a whole speech prepared" Azriel said, "but i don't think you're the type to want to hear rehearsed words, so let me give it a try..."

Quieter than she had ever heard him, Azriel began " I have always been alone, the shadows and the dark being my best friends..."

"I only knew friendship and love when Rhys opened his home to me; but even as my brothers and i grew, i still felt alone.... empty. I longed for something that would be entirely mine, something that no one else would share, something i would never have to part with." His voice breaking, Azriel inhaled and tucked his hands in his pockets.

"I met Mor when she was very young, she was such a happy girl; always teasing and playing, always happy even with the shitty family she was born into. She lightened my days, she gave me a reason to wake up in the morning; i began to love her before i expected" his voice filled with pain he said, "and i loved her for five hundred years..."

"I thought she had to be my mate, because no one else would make me as happy as her; and i waited for five hundred years for the mating bond to click. Disregarding her feelings, her insecurities and fears; i pushed my feelings down her throat, hoping she would pity me enough to give me a chance".

His confession broke her. What kind of thoughts went through the mind of this beautiful man to say anything like that?

"Meeting Elain was different, i was finally able to help someone as broken as me. I had a purpose beyond violence. I looked forward to sharing time with her, i wanted push her to be better, to forget about that undeserving human boy" He continued, "once she began to get better, i realized that i was not the only thing grounding her. Her sisters, the wraiths, gardening, and even her mate gave her courage to keep going. And i am so selfish, selfish enough to begin loving her; demanding from her what she is not ready to give".

"The winter solstice that i tried to give her the necklace, i did it out of a desire for her to be mine. My thoughts were never about how much i loved and admired her, but rather that i deserved Elain, that three brothers and three sisters made more sense than what the cauldron had chosen".

Gwyn shuttered, her heart squeezing lightly at the words coming from his mouth.

"But i realized long ago, that Elain deserves to choose her own path; neither Lucien nor me are entitled to her, she should be master of her own destiny" He said, no pain noticeable in his voice. "I had to let go, for my sake, my court's sake; but most importantly, for her".

"I could tell you more about my mistakes, and i will, but i have to explain why i gave that necklace to you." He moved closer to her, their knees touching. "That night, Gwyn, the conversation we had made my heart sing; you changed my mood so quickly, and you didn't even know it. You looked, so free, so competitive, so happy".

"Then, after i left that night, i realized that i wanted to see your smile again; so i left the necklace to Clotho and asked her to bring you some joy in that lonely solstice night. And my mind pictured your smile once you received that necklace. The selfish being that i am, has kept that memory in my heart; selfishly locked away so that no one will steal it from me" He smiled and looked into her eyes, "and then you kept showing me so many surprising sides of you. No one challenges me to better as you do, no one wants to see me bite dust as you do. No one is interested in what i think about coffee, or what my favorite mystery novel is. You have heard my voice more time than anyone before."

"You have showed me many times that you're my only match Gwyn".

He paused, as if the words weighted on his heart as much as they weighted on hers.

"You are my best friend, the person i admire the most in the world. I admire your courage, your patience, your perseverance, your happiness. I love the way you show love to your friends. I love how much of a fierce warrior you are. And even though i made a mistake by re-gifting the necklace, i could not think of anyone that deserves to be pampered and loved as much as you"

He stopped, inhaled and touched the top of her hands.

The happiest feeling crept into her heart, her feelings were not one sided.

He saw her.

She saw him.

But his eyes did not show the happiness she expected, not did they show the same desire that burned deep in her.

They showed fear, sadness, longing.

"But with all that i have said, i know i don't deserve you. I have hurt everyone I've ever loved, i have always been so selfish. I have been looking for a bond so desperately that i was blind to what i had right in front of me..."-"I have avoided confronting my fears of being alone, of facing my nightmares and acknowledging how much of a monster i can be. When i look at you, how much you have given me; i regret every moment i have not spent loving you".

He moved his hands away from hers, looked at them and shuttered.

She realized then, unlike her, his biggest fears and insecurities were visible for everyone to see. He hated his hands, he believed them to be the proof of his monstrosity.

He did not know how wrong he was.

Finally, after what felt like eternity he said, " i am sorry Gwyn, i have not been the man you deserve; and i will forever regret that i lost you before i ever had you."

Tears falling down her cheeks, Gwyn grabbed his hands and placed them in her face. How much courage had those words taken? How much courage had even touching her taken?

"Az... you're so blind" she responded with a sob. She turned her face to his hands and placed a slight kiss inside of his hands, "these hands saved me, they are so precious... you are so precious to me"

She looked into his eyes, "i was hurt because i wanted.... i wanted you to be honest with me"

"I thought the necklace had meant that you thought of me" she smiled sadly, "for the first in my life i thought someone had chosen me, someone had thought of me first".

He looked away sadly, "i know that, and i am sorry".

She interrupted him, " I lied when i said i never wore it, i wore it every day, every hour" she laughed softly and grabbed the empty space in her neck that once held her necklace, "i even bathed with it".

He smiled. And damn if she wanted to kiss him now even more than ever.

"Once i found out it had been you who had gifted it to me, i ... finally was able to confirm my feelings towards you" Gwyn confessed. "I knew i fell in love with you the moment in the training ring when you admitted you had given the necklace to me."

Was she really saying this?

Yes

She closed her eyes and talked before her courage disappeared.

"Azriel i am in love with you" she breathed, "i fell in love with the man saw the darkness in me, and did not run away. The one that taught me to fight my nightmares way. The one that listened to me ramble about the silliest things. The one that made an effort to open his heart to me, and answered every question i asked him" she laughed. "After the first night on the training ring; i knew you would be my best friend, my confidant. Once i shared more and more nights with you, i couldn't stay away... i can't stay away from you"

Placing his hands in her chest she said, "i love you, all of you; the spy, the friend, the brother, the shadowsinger"

She didn't dare to look deeply into his eyes, afraid of what feelings laid beneath them.

"You are my center, you are my hope, my ladder to keep climbing up the pit of darkness my mind is. I will never be enough for you; for the pure and innocent heart you have. But if you give me a chance, i will treasure you for eternity". Tears scrolled down her face as she spoke, "I am not you mate, nor i am what you were looking for. But i will fight beside you every step of the way, because you more than anyone deserves happiness".

There. I said it.

She took her hands away from his, looked down and waited.... Waited for him to stand and leave, to laugh and mock her.

But he didn't.

He kneeled there, in front of her.

Shocked

Happy

.... Happy

He was happy; in fact, he seemed joyous.

A grin emerged in the male's face, bigger and brighter than she had never seen before.

Grabbing her hand, he pulled them up.

There they were, facing each other; looking deeply into each other's eyes when Azriel said: "the one that does not deserve you is me". He came closer to her, grabbed her waist and pulled her body towards his "my best friend, my love. I want you to be my entire world Gwyn".

He smiled and pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. His face coming even closer to hers, "i am not worthy of your confession, your heart, much less your body". His nose touched hers, "but give me a chance, i will treasure you until the end of times".

She smiled, nodded and closed her eyes.

Warmth filled her body as Azriel's lips closed upon hers. Soft, warm and gentle. Moving in a pace that would not startle her, he grabbed her neck to pull her even closer to him. He took his time to explore her mouth, kissing every corner. "Thank you Gwyn, for choosing me" he said, "i have found my light where i never thought looking". He kissed her nose, her forehead and her lips. "Now that i have you" he said, not leaving an inch of space between their mouths, "i will never leave you".

-------

As they kissed, something golden and long appeared in Gwyns mind, her chest seemed to swollen at the sight of it. The golden string settling in front of her and pulling her to reality.

She flinched at the same time Azriel did.

Their eyes meeting once again.

And right there, she knew...

"Mate" they said.

#gwyn acotar #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel fanfic #fanfic #acotar #post acosf #nesta archeron #nesta and gwyn #acotar fanfiction

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