#the real joke is that Azriel had fully thrown in with Nesta's plans

[flowerflamestars]

Effloresce Snippet

Ruby bright, blood ran down Rhysand’s neck. A knife that could slice air in the right hand- Cassian had the faraway wisdom to be glad it was Elain holding it, not Nesta to whom the wind would listen, Nesta, who probably would have taken off his damned head.  “Elain,” Feyre sounded like she was choking. “Rhys wasn’t- no one is going to hurt Nesta- what are you doing?”   Elain ignored her, pressed harder, blood welling. Rhysand, frozen in place, wasn’t even looking at her- over her head, to Cassian, as though to ask: why?   Cassian shook his head.   “You’ll get our people out.” Elain was velvet, a High Fae courtier speaking in a human voice.   And Rhys, sky fucking drown him, demurred. Look down her arm, ignored the blade like even bleeding, these women weren’t a threat. “It will take time, to evacuate.”   Nesta laughed, an entirely different sound than before. Storm wild, the sound of it moving up Cassian’s spine like a caress. “You don’t have time. You did this- Feyre didn’t get there on her own.”   Rhysand, who’d lost all ability to back down when he aught sometime in the last fifty years. Rhys, who’d absolutely play chicken with a curse that would destroy him and his- he was probably hoping it would helpfully boil Keir’s blood as it worked its way to him.   “The curse can kill you,” Elain crooned, “Or I can slit your throat and watch the crown pass to Archeron hands. Your choice.”   “A curse,” Feyre whispered, eyes flying between her sisters. “Nesta, please, what is she talking about?”

Lush bravado, Rhysand’s smile. “Always good, to have deadly allies.”   And just like that Elain turned the blade in her hand- starry, gleaming, released Rhysand and handed it bloody to Nesta, handle first.   Even braced for it, Cassian wasn’t prepared. Nesta continued the motion, angry and hectic, his dagger spun sure in her grip, keening to the air.   Did she know she could shape the wind? That Cassian- because Cassian- that the very storm would listen to her, in true need, star steel singing in her hand?   “I don’t understand. What crown? Is this about the Queens? You can pledge for clemency- if you’re really the one running all those trade route, the Lords owe you- they can”-   Steady, deadly, Elain in her lace and silk, the scent of her rage more Lucien’s fire than her own skin, Elain who said, “High Lord, would you like to say it?” Rhys, Cassian thought it, Cassian roared it in his head, barriers down, walls crumbling- I won’t forgive you- Feyre won’t forgive you- don’t- don’t- don’t- Rhysands mouth twisted.   “We have a deal, your sisters and I,” He told Feyre, charm laid thick over the grimace. “For the preservation of House Archeron. Isn’t that right, Banfhlaith?”   Nesta bared her teeth.   Like a call and response he couldn’t quite control, Cassian gave into the burning urge to slide closer, to guard even for a second, her back.   He loved his brother. He’d served faithful the Night Court for five centuries- half a millennia and never once, not for a second, anticipated a real future.

What loomed, endless, in the sky of Nesta Archeron’s eyes.

#we're back!! #remember like 6 months ago I kept saying i had so many things like...halfway done #they are all done now #we are cycling through #summer is here and a hundred stories with it! #the exact moment Cassian realized #the war was coming #but the war for his soul? already won #Elain I will STAB A HIGH LORD FUCKING WATCH ME Archeron #I remain in love with my take on the matebond in this #the blurring of magic #of being #that Illyrians do not in fact find their mates like high fae #ao3 is officially up to date and this new chapter coming very very soon! #time for the plot to break and canon to disintegrate #Elucien being married in the background #while Nessian speedrun enemies to ride or die means you can't fucking die lovers #Feyre...still taking Rhysands side. #in everything #the real joke is that Azriel had fully thrown in with Nesta's plans #and rhys is just like #ignoring that to act like a dick #fanon Cassian is back from the canon nightmare

[bastardsonofday]

A Festival of Lights and Oil

Gift for: @librarian-of-orynth

Sorry if they’re a little ooc, I’ve never written nessian before. 

Gift Prompt:  like a nessian hannukah ficlet

Warnings: PTSD trigger and angst

Cassian’s PTSD gets triggered while cooking for hannukah dinner, Nesta is there to help him. 

ao3     masterlist

Cassian was cooking dinner, you know, as you do.

Cassian liked cooking. It was relaxing. The formulas which kept you on track, a steady hand to guide you. Being able to tweak and taste your creation until you were finished. The smell.

He loved the certainty of it all. These days, so few things in his life were certain that it was calming.

And, he joked to himself as he diced radishes for salad, it was a good thing too, considering how he planned on spending the rest of his life being bossed around by Nesta.

Cassian popped an extra radish in his mouth and snacked on it as he turned his attention to the latkes.

If he was being honest to himself, Cassian liked sufganiot better. Jelly were his favorite type of doughnut as it was and also, if Cassian was going to eat something deep fried he decided he would go all the way. Not that latkes were bad tasting per se, but given a doughnut and a potato pancake? If Cassian was going to break from his healthy lifestyle the doughnut would be it.

But he still made latkes because he was cooking for his whole family and they liked them, also what was Hannukah without latkes?

All Cassian did was gently place a latke in the pan of oil to begin frying, but sometimes all it took was a little something.

The latke, as it fell, had splashed him with boiling oil. Which wasn't the most painful thing Cassian had ever experienced. In fact, far from it. But it didn't need to be.

Suddenly, Cassian was thrown back in time—eyes squeezed shut and spatula dropped onto the ground.

The sizzling of the oil—the burning on his back. The boiling hot pain which only lasted for a second, a couple droplets on his hands—the boiling hot explosion of pain of his wings, shredded, He'd shredded them-

Cassian stumbled backwards, slamming into the granite island behind him, only intensifying the pain. Cassian slid to the ground as the memories held him hostage.

Pain-pain-pain-

It was all he could feel. The smell of his own blood and screams that he couldn't remember if they were his own or someone else's.

This, Cassian realized (not for the first time), was the end. He wasn't going to survive this.

Nesta was used to coming home in the winter to a fully cooked meal, some time with someone she didn't hate, some great sex, and then a good night's sleep. When she opened the door and found the house filling with smoke as latkes burned on stove with Cassian cowering under the granite island counter she was, to be concise, shocked.

And their house was filling with smoke.

Tons and tons of smoke.

Nesta hurried over to Cassian, using her knitted scarf to cover her mouth. First, she put out the fire and dumped the scorched batch of laktes in the sick. Then, she opened all the windows despite the outside chill. Third, she dragged Cassian out from his hiding place and into the fresh air outside. Cassian stumbled as she pulled him along and fell hands first into the snow.

With the shock of the cold and chill against Cassian's skin he was pulled from his waking nightmare back into reality. His bones trembled and his body shivered. His breath came quickly, as if he'd been running miles and he sank himself slightly deeper into the snow, just to prove to himself that this—his home, the snow, Nesta—that this was real. Real and now.

Nesta knelt next to him, her scarf wrapped around his body. It was all she could give him.

They stayed together outside for a few minutes. For long enough.

Cassian let out a sigh of relief, and then nodded. Nesta helped him back inside.

"Sit." She ordered. Cassian fell onto the sofa. The room still smelt of burnt food, but the smoke had mostly dissipated.

Nests went to the kitchen and took two mugs from the cupboards. Hers, she filled with coffee. Cassian's with tea.

She stuck the mug in Cassian's hand and placed one leg over the other as she sat on the coffee-table across from him.

"What happened?" She asked shortly. More concerned than angry.

Cassian blew gently on his tea, bringing it near his mouth to see if it was an okay temperature to drink. Too hot. He placed it on the table beside her.

"I'm fine, Nes."

"What. Happened?"

Cassian toyed with his thumbs. "I-" He didn't know where to start.

"Cassian." She said softly. Nesta was almost never soft, not even to him. But when she was...

Like putty in her hands.

Cassian tumbled into her embrace, surprising her. Nesta put down her coffee and held him closer. "You're okay now." Cassian breathed her in. He knew her, in and out. Every whisper, every speck.

But she barely knew him sometimes, it seemed like for as much as he talked, he never told her anything.

"I was so scared." He breathed into her chest. He pulled his arms around her tighter. "I thought- I thought-"

He couldn't get the words out. He couldn't tell her that he thought he was going to die. Alone. Without ever finding someone he could rely on, give himself wholly and without sacrifice to—without finding Nesta. He couldn't tell her that at that moment, just for a second, that without wings to carry him and everyone he loved away from the wickedness of Hybern he wanted to-

Nesta hesitated and then gently ran her fingers through his hair. Cassian never seemed to show that he was scared, or that he was haunted by what had ever happened to him. And a lot had happened in over 500+ years of life.

"It's okay to be scared." Nesta said softly. Her voice rasping as the words came from her. Her fingers trembled. He needed her. He needed her so badly right now and for the life of her, she didn't know what to do. What to say.

"I don't ever want to feel like that again." Was all that muffledly came from Cassian as he burrowed his face deeper into her breast. And maybe, she thought feeling something wet, crying.

"It's okay. It's over now. Whatever it was, it wasn't real. You're here now. You've survived. You're safe. We're all safe."

Cassian took a deep snuffling breath. Safe. He repeated the word over and over in his head. Safe. Safe. Safe.

No Hybern to take his girl away. No war to threaten his life. Safe. Safe. Safe.

But-it had felt so real. The feeling of losing his wings, and of watching her go down into that Cauldron, to drown—forever, to go down into that swirling magic. Cassian's breath hitched.

Safe. Safe. Safe.

The doorbell ringed and Cassian jumped to his feet. He rubbed at his eyes, to wipe away any tears that may have been there. “I totally forgot! Family dinner-!”

“Cass, I can go tell them to go home. You don’t have to do this if you don’t feel up to it. I’ll blame myself, don’t worry it’s fine-”

“No, Nesta. I mean, thank you but no thank you. I want to do this. I’ll go-I’ll go back into the kitchen and-”

“Are you sure?” Nesta asked. She took his hand in hers. “I can cook, you know.”

“I like to do it. But, I’ll let you do the latkes.” Cassian replied softly.

The doorbell rang again.

Nesta stalked over to the door and flung it open. “We heard you the first time.” She snapped.

Az raised an eyebrow from the other side and nodded his head to Amren. “She couldn’t wait.”

Amren pushed past Nesta. “I hate this fucking body. Peeing sucks.” Amren disappeared down the hall.

“What’s that smell?” Az asked, shadows flickering around him. Az’s eyes widened slightly and he frowned. 

“I wanted to help out Cassian with the cooking, but I accidentally put a towel on the stove. It burnt.” Nesta glared at Azriel as if daring him to challenge her story.

Az nodded. But Nesta was sure he didn’t believe her. The way he looked at Cassian told her he knew exactly what had happened, damn his shadows. But at least he was kind and tactful enough not to mention it.

Nesta walked over to the kitchen to fry the rest of the latkes while Cassian inducted Az into helping set the table. Az leaned over gently and took Cass’s hand in his.

Cass gave him a small comforted smile. “Thanks.”

“You’ve survived. You’ll survive again.”

Cass squeezed Az’s hand. “Happy Hannukah, brother.”

“Happy Hannukah.”

#diana writes a court of thorns and roses #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta & cass #cassian has ptsd #hannukah #happy hannukah #hannukah gifts