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Have fun and enjoy celebrating our favorite bat boy!
❤️ For his birthday, this man wants to live it up! This is Cassian we’re talking about. A full day of activities and drinking with his favorite people. He wants to be running around, goofing off, and having be with the people he cares about like there’s no tomorrow.
🖤 First things first, in the morning, Cassian is dragging Rhys and Az in a hike and going on a little casual hunt that turns into sparring and goofing off on the mountain. Something tells me someone shoves Rhysand into a lake at some point and they go for a little swim before flying home.
❤️ Nuala and Cerridwen prepared a big feast for their arrival back in the Townhouse, mostly with meat dishes and bottles of wine from Rhysand’s personal collection. This is when Mor and Amren would definitely be arriving to join along side the Archeron sisters. Cassian shares a bottle with Mor and Feyre in a small drinking game while Amren tries not to say anything mean to him for today. Nesta attempts to scold him for drinking so much but he just pulls her into a bear hug, making her bristle like a disgruntled cat who eventually accepts and wishes him a happy birthday with a soft hidden smile just for him.
🖤 Later in the evening, Cassian drags everyone to Rita’s for more drinking and dancing among other things. Rhys, Az, Cass, Nesta, and Selena end up playing cards for a bit but of course, Az and his perfect poker face wins most of the time. Cass does win one good hand though, which he doesn’t shut up about for most of the evening with a big stupid grin on his face.
❤️ On the dance floor, he declares Selena his, spinning her around while laughing. He’s not exactly the most skilled dancer but they have fun with it. Selena also gets Cassian to try fruity, sparkling cocktails from the bar. At first he’s resistant, thinking it’s too much, but then he has like 3.
🖤 Later in the evening, with the help of Elain, Selena brings out a little red velvet birthday cake for Cassian. Rhys and Az rib him a bit as everyone gathers around for him to blow out the candles. He makes a big show of it as he huffs and puffs. This is where most of their friends give him their gifts. Mor’s gift is unsurprisingly a ridiculous shirt with puffy sleeves that would make him look like a flamboyant pirate, giving everyone a good laugh.
❤️ Instead of going back to the Townhouse, Rhysand gives Cassian access to the Cabin for the evening where he takes Selena. Unsurprisingly, because it’s Cassian and that man is handsy, especially when he’s a little tipsy, one thing leads to another… 🤭 The rest of the night is spent cuddling by the first and tangled up in a fur-lined blanket, murmuring about anything and everything.
🖤 Selena’s personal gift to Cassian is given in the Cabin. A good luck charm she braided with a little bear and a shield made from red cord for him to tie to the grip of his sword. She researched good luck symbols for battle and wanted to give him something he’d keep close. The shield represents how he’s the protector of their friend group and found family, while the bear represents how she sees him as a big fierce teddy bear who gives great hugs. “For my Big Teddy Bear” She’d smile as they cuddles under the blanket.
For Day 2: Birthday of @cassianappreciationweek here's a Nessian/Cazriel one shot where it's It's Cassian's birthday (and one week after Nesta broke up with him), and Azriel and Rhysand are desperate to do anything to make sure he doesn't think about her.
Read on AO3 or below the cut
“Come on, come on. Another round. Don’t make me out-drink you on your birthday.” Leaned up against the bar, Rhysand’s words felt blurry, but not too far away from where Cassian stood—well, swayed—at his side. Cassian was just the right amount of drunk.
Rhys and Azriel had taken him out for his birthday…and for other reasons, but Cassian didn’t want to think about those other reasons right now. All he wanted was to listen to bad music, talk with his buddies and sing some karaoke.
“Give him a second to breathe, Rhys. He put his fucking name down for karaoke and he’s gonna walk up there drunk if you give him another shot.”
“I’m not drunk,” Cassian said. Unfortunately his words were illtimed perfectly with a stumble as he tried to step away from the bar. Azriel caught him with a pointed glare, but did not remove his arm as they began to step back into the crowd.
Ignoring Azriel, Rhysand handed out the freshly poured shots to each of them. “See, he’s not drunk. He’s a big strong man, plenty of drinking left for him tonight. Plus the alcohol is good for you. Good for the heart.” In emphasis, Rhys tipped his head back and took his shot, immediately scanning the room like the liquid gave him a stamina boost.
Holding his—he sniffed the shot glass and winced—tequila, Cassian looked at Azriel (at least he was pretty sure that was Azriel) and tried to smile. His face felt blurry too. “My face feels blurry.”
Azriel grunted, downing his shot without so much as a blink. “You’re drunk.”
“Indeed,” Cassian purred, stumbling again as he tried walking further into the crowded room, attempting and failing to weave through loud, chattering patrons. He clung to Azriel. Azriel dutifully kept him upright, maneuvering them both with ease. “You drunk?”
Azriel gave a cool, unassuming shake of his head.
“But you drank many drinks,” Cassian said, practically falling into the booth Rhysand had claimed. Azriel slid in next to Cassian, their thighs bumping together on the small bench.
“Yeah well, it’s easier to keep your head on your shoulders when you’re not sad.”
“I’m not sad,” Cassian roared, dramatically throwing himself forward onto the table. “I’m heartbroken.”
Rather than respond, Azriel just rubbed his back a few times.
“Well, fuck her,” Rhys said, sipping on a mixed drink Cassian didn’t realize he had ordered. Somewhere in his swimming mind, he was jealous of Rhys for having another drink. Until Azriel slid one in front of him and suddenly he was happy again.
He took a long sip from the thin straws, not tasting anything but liquid and maybe cherry? Dangerous. He knew that. He would feel awful in the morning. But he would feel awful in the morning either way, might as well have some fun tonight. If that was possible.
Nesta dumped him last week—knowing his birthday was in a week. They had been dating for a few months, but Nesta had always been more focused on the physicality of their relationship than the emotional connection. The trend held through the breakup too. Last weekend, he took her to brunch, made love to her in his shower and in his bed, and rubbed her feet during a Transformers movie marathon.
And then she promptly broke his heart at 2am after making out for a half hour with their shirts off. She said she needed space, that their relationship was moving too fast—that it was all just too domestic and needy. She didn’t want a commitment, she just wanted fun. She left swiftly and told him not to call.
The purpling grief came rushing back, weighing him down until he felt glued to his seat. His head fell to the table again, eyes closed as the music thinned out his thoughts. “It hurts.”
“Drink your drink,” Azriel said, his hand on Cassian’s back once more.
“Fuck. Her,” Rhysand said again, louder than necessary even with the noise from the crowd. His eyes were distantly scanning the crowd.
But his words only made Cassian’s throat close further. His mouth became watery as his mind conjured images of Nesta laying in his bed, sun-kissed and sated. “I’m never going to fuck her again.”
“See, Az. He needs to keep drinking. He’s clearly not drunk enough to forget her yet.”
Practically kissing the table as he did, Cassian moaned, “I miss her.”
“Get up.” Azriel’s voice was loud and clear against the intoxicated commotion in the room.
Tentatively, Cassian picked up his head. “What?”
“You heard me. Get up.” For emphasis, Azriel slid out of the booth, arms crossed and eyes set.
Cassian sat up fully—his head only spinning a little—and met the challenge in Azriel’s eyes.
“More drinks?” Rhys asked, clearly distracted. Cassian and Azriel followed Rhysand’s gaze across the room to a short, athletic woman chatting under the disco ball with stars in her eyes. Something rolled in Cassian’s stomach. Rhysand would be gone within the next ten minutes, he had no doubt.
“We’re going to do whatever it takes for you to stop thinking about Nesta.” Cassian winced at the sound of her name, but Azriel just rolled his eyes, not letting his friend wallow anymore. “Come on.” Azriel dragged Cassian out of the booth and into the crowd.
As Cassian predicted, Rhysand slipped away quicker than a shadow to speak with the starstruck woman. Cassian’s heart ached with jealousy and longing. He missed Nesta. Azriel’s grip remained firm on his arm, tying Cassian to the material plane, grunting with frustration as if he could hear Cassian’s lovesick thoughts. They came to a stop at the bar. Azriel took their half-finished drinks and pushed them away, causing Cassian to frown like a puppy dog.
“Relax,” Azriel said. “I’m getting you another one. No more cherry vodka sodas, no more tequila shots. You need something fun.”
“Coconut?” Cassian smiled wide, voice as giddy as a toddler on Christmas.
“Sure, coconut.” Azriel quickly ordered their drinks and turned back to him, determination lining his smirk. “What will it take to forget her?”
“I’ll never forget her.” Cassian was completely serious, the intensity sobering him up. “I will hear her voice in the wind. I will see her face in every crowd. I would know her body by touch alone. Azriel, she was always so soft. And her lips—“
“Stop,” Azriel winced, putting his hand up. “That’s enough.”
Cassian frowned with big eyes, but picked up the new drink that the bartender made. It was orange and coconutty and came with a cherry on top. His smile melted into something satisfied and Azriel shook his head, glad to have pleased him. “When’s it my turn to sing?”
“I don’t understand how you can do that.” Azriel said and walked over to a high table to put his drink down. He spun to lean with his back against the ledge, carefully watching Cassian as he stumbled his way over, somehow managing not to spill a drop of his drink.
Cassian shrugged, taking a little too long with an open mouth to find the straw. “It’s fun.”
“What are you even going to sing?”
He took a long sip with his eyes closed and for a brief moment, Cassian lost himself to the noise of the bar. He hummed with pure satisfaction at the taste. “Mmm, coconut.” Eventually he looked up at Azriel who had a single eye brow raised as he watched him fumble with the straw yet again. “Sorry,” Cassian said sheepishly, his cheeks heated for a reason he couldn’t place. “What did you say?”
Azriel shifted his weight, clearing his mind. “I asked what you’re going to sing?”
“Oh!” Cassian said, putting his cup down beside Azriel, who tracked the movement with rapt attention. “I’m singing—”
“Alllllright folks. Next up to sing is Cassian Valderez! Cassian, come on up here!”
“Oh shit. That’s me,” Cassian said dumbly to Azriel. He nudged past his friend and made his way through the crowded room, muttering drowsy sorries as he pushed through the sea of people. He squeezed by Rhys, who now had his arms wrapped around the beautiful woman, and gave his friend a hearty wink before he finally made his way to DJ stand at the side of the small stage at the back of the room. “I’m Cassian,” he said, lips numb but smiling wide.
“All right, man,” the DJ said. The man’s mustache bounced as he spoke and Cassian had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. “What are you singing?”
He already knew, but Cassian turned slightly over his shoulder and saw Azriel standing at the front of the crowd with an unreadable expression on his stony face. He stared at Cassian, holding both their cups, a question churning in his gaze. With a smirk at his friend, Cassian turned back to the DJ and made his selection.
He was just the right amount of drunk for this. Blissfully at ease while still levelheaded enough to see the words on the screen. With the microphone practically pressed to his lips he pranced around the stage as the intro of the song started. Azriel’s eyes were wide and his face burned red with second-hand embarrassment as he watched Cassian dance.
But a stupid smile pulled on his lips when Cassian started to sing. “If you see a faded sign at the side of the road that says, fifteen miles to the, love shack, love shack yeah!”
Azriel’s eyebrows shot practically to his hairline, a small chuckle bubbling out of him. He tucked their drinks close to his chest as he watched Cassian get into it. It only persuaded Cassian to lean into it further.
Dancing around the room, Cassian gave himself over to the music, closing his eyes as he jumped to the beat. He loved this song, sang it all the time in his room when he was alone. Nesta never liked it. Said it was stupid. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. He didn’t let his mind linger on Nesta too long, instead, locked himself back into the song.
“Huggin and a-kissin, dancin and a-lovin, wearin next to nothing cause it's hot as an oven. The whole shack shimmies!”
Cassian trotted down the stairs, walking through the front of the crowd, tugging on the hands of a group of women watching him with amusement on their pretty faces. He gave one a kiss on the knuckles and she smiled wide, blushing hard. Like a flash of lightning, Cassian felt the heartbreak creep in again, but he pushed it down. Not right now.
As he danced by Azriel, he stole back his drink from his friend. Something warm bloomed in his chest catching his friend’s quiet giggle. Cassian made his way towards the other staircase on the other side of the stage, happy that he kept his balance long enough to make it there without falling on his face. Somehow, the music guided him.
“The love shack is a little old place where we can get togetherrrrr!”
He climbed back up the steps, finishing out the last bits of the song with a smile on his face, a drink in his hand and the stage lights in his eyes. For one moment, everything felt good. Cassian wasn’t thinking about Nesta. He wasn’t thinking about anything. Everything felt calm.
And then the song ended.
The world came crashing back fast and hard as the crowd clapped. Empty noise. His mind rushed him back to his bedroom at 2am, the lights flicking on and burning his eyes as Nesta angrily put on her shirt. His lips burned, his heart broke, his temper flared. He wasn’t good enough for her. She didn’t want him forever.
She left me. She left me. She left me. She left me.
Cassian pushed past Azriel, wiping the stupid smile off his face with a grunted, “what?” He cut through the crowd. His stomach flipped, souring quickly as he held his hand to his head to stop the incessant pounding. She left me.
It was too hot in here. Sweat collected in the corners of his elbows. Up on stage, the next singer started a slow, pop song that Cassian didn’t know the name of. It quieted the room down, but it left space in his head for Nesta to invade.
He sucked in a sharp breath. Just thinking her name hurt.
Azriel caught up to Cassian with a tender hand on his shoulder. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
Cassian brushed him off, making a beeline for the front door. As Azriel passed by Rhysand, he caught his attention and gestured that he was following Cassian outside. They thought they were being subtle, but Cassian saw it all. Saw how much they cared. It meant nothing to him. Felt like a gaping hole in his chest.
Pushing through the glass front door, Cassian expected relief that didn’t come. He wanted the night to calm him, but it was the middle of July. The humidity was sticky and oppressive, strangling him and ripping tears from his eyes. The door swung open and slammed shut behind him, but Cassian was already halfway down the street.
“Cassian, wait!” Azriel called after him, frustration twisted with care, giving his words flight.
Cassian batted Azriel’s caring words away like a pesky gnat. He felt like he needed to run, to flee. He wanted to feel wind in his hair and a rush of icy cool on his face. He wanted to sprint so fast he could reverse the rotation of the Earth and return to last weekend. He wanted to run to Nesta’s house, climb the stairs in her rickety building and break down her door just so he could lay himself in her arms. He wanted to be anywhere but here, in this moment, living this life.
Azriel caught up to him, a hand forcefully thrown on his shoulders to stop him.
Cassian grunted. “Let me go.”
“No.”
“Get your hand off me!”
“No!” Azriel cried out, the frustration winning out. “You’re drunk and it’s the middle of the night and you don’t know where you’re going.”
“I know where I’m going,” Cassian said, spinning on his heel as he looked down the cross streets of the corner they were standing on. They were in Rhys’s neighborhood, downtown and far away from everything Cassian was intimately familiar with. The stoplights and headlights rippled through the midnight, summer haze, and as Cassian spun, he felt his head start to pound. His stomach dropped.
He was about to puke.
“Fuck,” Azriel said, seeing his friend’s face turn green. “Over there, Cass.”
He barely saw the trashcan before his head was buried in it.
“Okay, okay,” Azriel soothed, gathering Cassian’s hair off his neck and holding it in a knot at the top of his spine.
Cassian was not okay. He threw up everything in his stomach, and then when there was nothing left, it felt like he threw up everything in his heart. Azriel didn’t leave his side.
When he was finally done, he stood up, wobbled slightly and decided that right here was the best place to sit. He let his body collapse onto the sidewalk. Azriel was sitting next to him a heartbeat later.
“Better?”
“No.” Cassian’s throat burned.
“I know.”
The street was practically deserted. No cars. No pedestrians. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, but otherwise the night was calm and quiet. For some reason, that made Cassian mad. He wanted the world to be loud and busy and full of commotion. He needed something that would drown Nesta from his thoughts.
He wanted Azriel to talk, but his friend just sat in comfortable silence, looking up at the buildings rising high above them.
After a few moments, Cassian said, “I want ice cream.”
“No way.”
“Okay.”
Azriel shook his head, giving Cassian a once over from head to toe. “She really ruined you.”
“I love her.”
“Why?”
Cassian scrunched his face, even though it was completely numb. “She’s beautiful. And mean. And strong. And smart.”
“Right.” Azriel was not convinced. “But she broke your heart. A week before your birthday.”
“I said she was mean.” Something told him to lay down, so he did. He stared up at the hazy sky, the stars nowhere in sight. That burned a hole in his chest.
Azriel sighed deeply, but two seconds later was laying down parallel to Cassian on the sidewalk. “You can do better.”
“Don’t insult her. Not yet. My heart can’t take it.” Tears threatened to spill down his eyes, but held them in. Held his breath, letting his lungs burn for a little too long. “I’m thirty.”
Cassian heard Azriel’s smile. “You’re old.”
“You turn thirty next.” Cassian poked Azriel in the side like a child.
“Shut up,” Azriel retorted just as childishly.
They continued to stare at the sky in silence.
“Actually, I think my birthday is over.” Cassian sat up just enough to pull his phone from his pocket to check the time. Azriel snapped his hand out to try and stop him, but he was too late. Cassian saw it. Three texts from Nesta, from just before midnight.
happy birthday
i know we said we wouldnt text but i hope you had a good day despite everything
im sorry
The first two came in quick succession. The last came almost fifteen minutes later, as if she were thinking about it. Cassian would be thinking about these texts for the rest of his life. Azriel hovered close to him, sitting up to read the texts, too.
“Fuck,” Azriel swore, seeming just as helpless as Cassian right now.
“What do I do?”
Azriel pulled back and looked at Cassian with disgust. “Do not text her back.”
Cassian swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away from his phone. “She said she’s sorry.”
“About ruining your birthday. Which is bullshit by the way.”
The air buzzed between them, a new hope thumping through his veins. “What if she’s sorry about the breakup.”
Azriel’s words clipped at the end of Cassian’s. “She’s not.”
Cassian let out a long huff, dropping his phone in his lap so he could massage his face. He knew Azriel was right. He knew this was just one more way Nesta was messing with his heart. And still, he couldn’t help but hold onto her words, to read into them and cherish them and hope that they meant something more.
He climbed to his feet, leaning over the trashcan again. And again, Azriel was at his side.
“It’s okay.”
Just as he was wiping his mouth, sure that it was over. Rhys found them, two mini bottles of water in hand. “There you are.” He handed one to each of them and Cassian drank his quickly.
“You knew we were out here,” Azriel said, wordlessly handing Cassian the second bottle of water meant for himself.
Rhys shrugged, his dimple forming as he smirked. “It’s just something nice to say.”
Azriel grunted, but didn’t respond.
“Nesta texted me.”
“Shit,” Rhys said, taking the phone out of Cassian’s hand. “What did she say?”
Cassian winced, reliving the moment even though it just happened.
“Shit,” Rhys repeated after reading the text. He handed Cassian his phone back. “What are you going to do?”
“He’s not going to text her,” Azriel insisted.
Rhysand broadly waved his hand, “obviously.”
“What if I did.”
“No,” Azriel said, reaching to take the phone away from Cassian.
Even in his drunken state, he managed to quickly maneuver it away. “What if I just told her that I miss her—”
“No,” Rhysand cried, helping Azriel try to reach for Cassian’s phone.
Cassian hopped out of the way. “And that I love her—”
“No!”
“And that I want her back,” Cassian twisted, but Rhys and Azriel had tag-teamed him—had faked him out. Rhysand grabbed Cassian’s phone and tucked it safely in his pocket. Cassian grumbled, watching his last connection to Nesta disappear into the dark material of Rhys’s shirt. Frowning, he turned to both of them and said, “you don’t know what it feels like to be this heartbroken. You’re not helping!”
“We’re trying,” Azriel grumbled. “Texting her won’t help either.”
“Yeah, Cass, remember when she broke your fucking heart?! Do you want to give her the opportunity to do that again?”
“No, but nothing is working to make it feel better.”Cassian stumbled back a step, leaning against a mailbox as his head started to spin. His chest had hurt all weak, as if Nesta had physically ripped his heart in two. He didn’t want to feel like that anymore. “The only thing I can think of to make it feel better is to talk to her. To see her and hold her and kiss her and—”
Azriel stepped forward, anger and frustration twisting his face into something determined. But beneath it all, he let a hint of desperation shine in his eyes—the kind that Cassian hardly ever witnessed. Azriel's large hands cupped Cassian’s jaw, encasing his face in Azriel’s dark, broody scent. Cassian’s eyes flared wide as Azriel leaned in and kissed Cassian, swift yet brutal, leaving a brand on his lips. Limes. Azriel tasted like limes. They had never kissed before, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Cassian had the fleeting thought that all those girls that Azriel brought home were lucky, if this were even a fraction of what Azriel did to them. And then Azriel pulled back and it was over, his face revealing nothing, meanwhile Cassian’s eyes were wide as saucers.
Azriel swiped his thumb across his lower lip. “There, you’ve been kissed. Check that off the list.”
It took a moment for Cassian to regain coherent thoughts. “I—” He shook his head and cleared his throat, staring at Azriel with a whole new perspective. “It’s not the same. You don’t taste like her and even if—”
“What about me,” Rhysand said, taking a step forward, and before Cassian could comprehend what was happening, Rhys’s mouth met his. Rhysand’s kiss was a little longer, but much more stiff. He didn’t touch Cassian’s face like Azriel did and this time Cassian’s eyes remained open, but Rhysand’s were closed and his face soft. He stepped back, pride beaming from him like he were a fucking light source. “Well?”
“What the fuck?” Cassian said, pushing off the mailbox to stand with his spine straight.
“What?!” Rhys snarled, looking between Cassian and Azriel. He jutted a thumb out to Az. “He got to do it?”
“What is wrong with you!?” He added a bit hastily, “both of you?!”
Azriel took a step forward. “Hey, mine was good.”
Rhysand scoffed. “Mine was good, too. Right Cass?”
“Are you kidding?” Cassian said, convinced that he had walked into another dimension.
“Let me see,” Rhys said, turning to Azriel with resolve. He reached out his hands to cup Azriel’s face, leaning in quickly as Azriel tried to duck away.
“What the fuck, Rhys. Get your hands off me!” He dodged Rhysand’s touch, but Rhys advanced, trying to lean in again.
“I just want to see if you’re a better kisser than me!”
Cassian put his hands on his face just as a sweet, strong voice floated down the street. “Rhysand? What are you doing?”
All three men stopped and turned. Rhys’s face bloomed bright red as he stepped away from Azriel, his spine straightening. “Feyre! Hi!” He looked at Azriel—who didn’t even attempt to hide the widest, most satisfied smirk in the world—before he took an extra step away from Azriel and grinned like a cat. “We were just talking.”
The woman—Feyre—was the woman that Rhysand had found on the dance floor earlier in the night. Cassian recognized her starry eyes and her flowing, golden brown hair. Right now, those eyes were scrunched with alarm, strange concern written on her face. “Right…”
“Hold on, let me explain.” Rhys raced after her as she started to walk back towards the bar, and Cassian couldn’t help but laugh seeing his usually composed friend practically crawl after this woman. They disappeared inside and Cassian and Azriel were alone once again.
“Awesome,” Azriel said, still incredibly amused at Rhysand’s pining behavior around the woman he just met.
But Cassian couldn’t concentrate on them, he was staring at Azriel. “What the hell was that?”
Azriel turned quickly, caught off guard by Cassian’s clearly angry tone. “What?”
“What do you mean what? You kissed me.”
“So did Rhys.”
“Not like that.”
Ever indifferent, Azriel shrugged. “You wanted to be kissed.”
“You wanted to kiss me.”
Azriel went completely still. It took him a moment to gather words, but when he spoke, there was no indication that he was rattled. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
Cassian took a single step forward, entering Azriel’s orbit. “I can always tell when you’re lying.”
Azriel dared to lean in a fraction of an inch, their faces close. “I’m not lying,” he protested slowly, giving each word devastating meaning.
In the dim light of the street, Azriel’s face was plagued with shadows, hiding the parts of him that Cassian often had access to. Out of all of their friends, Azriel always opened himself up for Cassian—he enjoyed having Cassian’s full attention. At least until Nesta came along.
Was Azriel…jealous?
Somehow, Azriel followed this line of thought working in Cassian’s head and took a step back, looking down the street with an icy coolness that Cassian despised. He wanted to know what his friend was thinking—he wanted to know why he looked so desperate. “Why did you kiss me, Az?”
“You said you wanted a kiss.” Azriel couldn’t look at him.
Cassian’s heart started to beat hard, his body pulling tight with a familiar kind of tension. “From Nesta.”
It was small, but Cassian caught it—Azriel winced at her name.
A storm started to build within him. “You’re not Nesta.”
Azriel swallowed once. Small. The stubble on his throat bounced as he continued to look far down the street, up at the buildings. Anywhere but at Cassian. “No, I’m not.”
Cassian dared to take a step forward. “That bothers you.”
Azriel’s eyes snapped to Cassian, a small snarl on his lips. “No.”
Undone, Azriel was undone—Cassian knew it even if Azriel worked hard not to show it. “Yes,” he smirked, excited to be under his skin.
Azriel looked away again. “You didn’t want to think about her anymore, so…”
“So you made me think about you instead?”
A moment of silence, something shifting. Paths realigning. Quiet, practically a whisper that was only heard because Cassian was standing so close, Azriel ventured, “you’re thinking about me?”
“I mean maybe. I don’t know—”
Azriel surged forward, kissing Cassian again, longer and more sustained this time. His hand found Cassian’s hip, but other than that, they didn’t touch. Cassian leaned in, just a fraction, trying to understand all that he was feeling.
But Azriel pulled back, partially out of breath, searching Cassian’s eyes for a message, a warning. He swallowed, he waited. Cassian said nothing.
Azriel took a step back. “Well?”
“You…” Cassian tried, and swallowed the words. “I…” He hesitated again, and Azriel looked like he might die. So hopeful. His hazel eyes were so hopeful. Cassian had never seen his friend like this. And yet, all he could think about was the taste of limes left on his lips. “I don’t know. It was nice, but you don’t taste like her.”
Stepping back, he stuck a hand up. “I’m not her.” Azriel deflated. “I get it.”
“Azriel,” Cassian called after Azriel as he began to walk back towards the bar. “Wait.”
“It’s okay, Cass. We’re good.”
“We’re not good,” Cassian said, trying to keep his head screwed on straight. This night had been a complete headrush from beginning to end, and his whole body felt shitty. Like he had been flipped inside out and back again. “Stop walking.”
Azriel stopped, but he kept his back towards Cassian. His heavy breathing was evident in the erratic rise and fall of his shoulders. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was wrecked.
It broke Cassian’s heart further. “Just let me think.”
Another strained breath. Azriel looked over his shoulder. “About what.”
“About what I want.”
It seemed that Azriel stopped breathing altogether.
Adrenaline rushed through Cassian’s body, clarifying his eyesight and lighting a fire beneath his sternum. Cassian took a step forward, not giving Azriel enough time to react, when he put his hand at the nape of Azriel’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Azriel melted beneath him, and after a moment of their lips tenderly meeting, Azriel deepened the kiss.
Cassian gasped slightly, his lips opening. Azriel’s hand found Cassian’s hip, holding them close together as his tongue swiped into Cassian’s mouth—a question. Cassian answered it with a willing sweep of his own tongue, his body coming to life.
Dripping in surprise, Azriel pulled back just enough to say, “fuck, Cassian. I—”
“Shut up,” Cassian said, grabbing Azriel by the belt loop to pull him until their bodies were pressed flushed. Cassian let out a small gasp, truly surprised with how good this felt. Why had they never kissed before? Why did he love this so much? And what about Nesta?
He hesitated just a moment as Azriel went deeper, opening his mouth wider. Azriel felt it and pulled back.
With a bit of air between them, Cassian felt cold. But clear. He took a step back, letting Azriel go. All they could do was stare at one another, breathing heavy with puffy lips.
“I have to go,” Azriel said, walking away from Cassian quickly, face blanching white.
Cassian raced after him. “Wait, Az.”
Just then, Rhysand burst out onto the street, a new wave of drunkenness rippling off of him as he stumbled over. He had a beaded plastic necklace around his neck and his collar was undone an extra button. Cassian rolled his eyes.
“You guys coming back in?” Rhys said, his smile lopsided.
“In a minute,” Cassian stated, words clipped. Azriel didn’t move.
Rhysand slung his arms around both of them, neither one leaning into the embrace. “Feyre’s a little devil, did you know that?”
Cassian grunted in acknowledgement, but didn’t dare respond. He tried to catch Azriel’s attention out of the corner of his eye, but his friend dutifully held vigil on the door to the bar.
“Oh!” Rhys said, as if he had truly forgotten. “Your phone won’t stop ringing. That’s why I came out here.”
“What?” Cassian twisted out of Rhys’s wingspan and grabbed at his phone. “Nesta,” he breathed, seeing the five missed calls all from the last fifteen minutes. He looked up at his friends, wonder glimmering in his eyes. “What do you think she wants?”
“She probably wants to break your heart again, if I had to guess. But hey, maybe you like that. Maybe you can just hook up with her.” Rhysand’s eyes were shimmering with alcohol and his breath smelled like tequila. Azriel looked like he wanted to throw himself off the nearest bridge.
Cassian sucked in a sharp breath and stared at his phone.
“You’re not going to call her, are you?” Azriel’s words were pure poison.
“Of course he is. He’s an idiot but he’s also just a man. Or maybe she realized she’s an idiot to give him up and wants him back..”
“Don’t give him false hope. It hurts.”
Cassian searched Azriel’s face for a hidden meaning to his words, but found an iron wall. Impenetrable. “I have to call her back.”
Rhysand clapped, seemingly only half aware of his emotions, but Azriel rolled his eyes with a soft growl. “I’m going inside.”
“I’ll follow,” Rhys said, unaware of the tension pulled tight like an unbreakable string between Cassian and Azriel. “Got to get back to Feyre.”
“Az, wait.” Azriel stalled his steps, but Rhys kept walking, leaving them alone on the silent city street once more. Cassian said, voice quiet, “you’re mad.”
“Nope.”
“Please, don’t be mad.” Cassian reached out to hold Azriel’s forearm. Azriel looked down at his arm like it burned.
But his eyes were soft when they looked up at Cassian’s. “I’m not mad. Go call Nesta.”
Cassian sucked in a breath. “It’s just that—”
Azriel shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If it’s what you want, then it’s what I want.”
“You sure?” Cassian wasn’t even sure what he wanted, but he couldn’t say that. Not now. Not here. Not after that—he still wasn’t sure what that was.
“Yeah.”
Cassian licked his swollen lips. Azriel’s mouth dipped into a frown for half a second. Cassian started, “that kiss—”
“Didn’t happen.”
“But—”
Azriel shook his head again, stepping out of Cassian’s grasp. “No, Cass. It didn’t happen. We’re both drunk.”
“You’re not.”
Azriel just took another step away, backing up slowly. “Call Nesta.”
Cassian looked around, perhaps for a sign to appear written in the stars. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” Azriel stood a few good feet away. “Happy birthday, Cass.”
Cassian tipped his head in thanks, watching Azriel walk inside alone. Leaving Cassian alone. So fucking lonely. He turned his phone over in his hand a few times, pondering the whole evening. His head still swam with all the drinks, but there was a new clarity there that he couldn’t place—couldn’t explain.
He dialed Nesta’s number, waiting for the butterflies to start, for the world to spin again, for his heart to feel whole at the sound of her voice. And for a moment it did. Until it faded, and Cassian felt pinned, thrown back to the bottom of a mountain, just to push the rock higher once more.
“Cassian,” she sounded relieved, a little spacey. Probably a little high.
“Hi sweetheart,” he brought himself to the curb and sat down.
“Happy birthday.”
Cassian looked towards the front door of the bar, hoping for something he wouldn’t dare admit. The door didn’t open. He remained alone outside. “Thank you," he said, playing with his lips that tasted like limes.
Everyone's favourite mistaken identity disaster fice returns and Cassian is getting himself into a LOT of trouble for day 2 of @cassianappreciationweek ...
"This way," he said, quickly veering towards a much less manicured side street.
Nesta stopped.
Actually stopped.
The prince continued walking. For six full steps, apparently unaware that he had abandoned both his guest and every convention of royal hosting.
Azriel, a reluctant chaperone beside her, merely sighed. “He’ll realize it eventually.”
Nesta would have scoffed if she was poorly mannered. As it stood, she settled for a harsh hmm. When Rhysand finally turned around, his hazel eyes glinted in the sun. Lips quirking up at one side, he called back, “Something wrong, Princess?”
“Yes,” she clipped. “I am not particularly interested in being accosted by bandits down a dark alley street this day.”
The prince laughed. Threw his head back and let that honey-whiskey voice of his bounce off the narrow street. “You don’t trust Az and I to protect you?”
AZ? The informality of this court was, in a word, staggering. Actually, come to think of it, Nesta wasn’t sure she had ever been given the strangely silent man’s proper title.
“Perhaps you are the ones who arranged the bandits,” she sniffed.
“I have never claimed to be a political mastermind.” Her eyes narrowed at that. Was he joking? Or just modest? Neither made sense. “But even I know better than to murder a princess in the streets when I am trying to court her.”
Summary: Nesta finds more than she bargains for when she travels for an interview in a new city (aka professor Cassian)
Snippet:
Even though it’s rude, Nesta can’t help but to stare. He wears a forest green sweater atop a white button up, that looks so soft she’s tempted to cross the room and run her fingers over it. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was true cashmere. It covers a build that definitely goes to the gym two or three times a week, with how the sweater moves over his arm muscles as he picks up his order.
As he turns around, she catches sight of his square jaw, of the long, dark hair that is clasped behind his head.
His fingers disappear into the pastry bag, and emerge with what appears to be a piece of a blueberry lemon muffin.
Day 1: Devotion @cassianappreciationweek Inspired by "The Kiss" by Yves Pires's sculpture, I like to imagine Cassian giving a tender kiss to his beloved Nesta ❤️
Brother. Friend. Lover. General. Rival. Comrade. Shield.
Seven people tell their story of Cassian. But only one realizes they're all the same.
A series of ficlets for Cassian Week 2026.
Day One: Devotion for @cassianappreciationweek
Read below the cut or on ao3
Notes:
this takes place in the spring between acofas and acosf
Feyre is in trouble.
Her hands are shaky, anxiety charging through her insides like the Middengard worm. And there's only one person who can help her stab the hell out of it, who she's sure will know what to do.
God, he better be home.
Her gown swishes against the red rock floor and her dread mounts and it's like trying to climb a wall made of mud.
But, blessedly, he's here.
Bent over a large folio of maps, Cassian has one hand fisted in his hair when Feyre skids to a halt in his doorway.
"Help," she pants, unable to get the rest of it out. Damned High Lady duties haven't left much time for training.
Cassian half-rises, looking alarmed. But Feyre shakes her head, her breath mercifully returning.
"No no, it's not—I'm not in danger."
He relaxes back down, and she does too.
For the last few months, Cassian's study has become somewhat of a haven for her. The huge armchairs, the strategy table with it's tiny iron figurines. The well-stocked bar. It's a place where she can be confused or scared or crabby without having to make someone else feel better about it.
So a familiar warmth spreads through Feyre's chest when Cassian smirks, leaning back in his chair and sighing, "What did Rhys do this time?"
She's already in the chair opposite before he closes the folio.
"I don't know what to do," she admits. "I come down to breakfast this morning. And Rhys is sitting there, drinking his tea. Reading the last-minute details for the opera house reopening. You remember that's happening today."
"I definitely did not remember that."
Feyre rolls her eyes.
"Anyway. I'm about to tell him my plans to paint part of the bedroom today, when he looks up from his papers and says Darling, would you make the opening remarks for me this afternoon? Just jot a few things down, you'll do wonderfully."
She feels sick. But Cassian just raises a quizzical brow.
"Alright? And that's… bad?"
"Yes, it's fucking bad! I don't know what to say!
Feyre shivers as goosebumps sweep down her arms. It's chilly in here, which is strange this close to the cusp of summer.
"Just say what Rhys usually does," Cassian advises. He rubs, a hand over his jaw, thinking. "Honor and progress and prosperity. And write it down so you don't forget. I've made that mistake too many times."
But Feyre's already whipping her head back and forth. It's not enough, she isn't enough—
"I don't even know what to write! A year ago, I didn't even know how to fucking write!"
He makes that face that tells her she's hit his soft spot. "Then dictate, I'll write it down for you. Just talk about the future, the 'brilliant dawn approaching' and all that."
"But I don't know what that is. I don't know the… the future. I don't know when it'll feel normal."
It hurts to admit. She wants to be worthy of her title so badly. But in moments like this, it's hard to feel like that's ever possible.
Feyre looks down, ashamed. But the confession loosens something in her, and the words flow freely, pouring out like rainwater from a downspout.
"I keep waiting for someone to point and shout that I don't belong here. And I can't tell Rhys that, because what if he thinks he made a mistake? What if he looks at me and thinks 'Why did I make this stupid girl my High Lady? She can't even write. She can't even keep her own sister from drinking and fucking every—'"
"Stop," Cassian says.
Feyre takes a breath, but she can't look at him still. It's too much to imagine the understanding look on his face, the easy calm she's come to depend on.
"I don't know what I'm doing, Cass. And there's no on I can ask without admitting that I'm so not the person they—"
"Stop," he repeats, more firmly. "Rhys wouldn't give this to you if he didn't think you could do it. Remember the Weaver? The first task Under the Mountain?"
She slumps into her chair, worn wood biting into her forearms, and the silence stretches between them. It's only broken by brief flutters of papers falling onto his desk.
At last she grumbles, "Thrown me in the mud, and I'm fine. Put me in a dress, and I'm useless."
"Me, too."
Her eyes snap upward and Cassian is smiling down at her, bright and wide and undaunted. Feyre can't help but laugh and relief sparkles through her chest when he laughs, too.
"You know that shit they say. Speak from the heart."
He always knows what to say. Even more so than Rhys sometimes, because it doesn't come with the added pressure, of needing her to be alright. There's never been a problem Cassian couldn't fix. Well, except Nesta, though Feyre suspects he'll capture that victory, too. Eventually.
"C'mon, Cursebreaker. Let me escort you." Cassian slaps his thighs before standing. "I'll say something stupid before you go so you'll sound better. And afterward, I'll yell at Rhys to get you an aide for these kinds of things."
More papers fall to the desk.
"Why don't you have an aide?"
"I have the camp lords. When I can get them to stop complaining about each other."
Feyre laughs, imagining him playing priest to a line of cranky confessors. Though she supposes she's one as well.
"I don't know how we'd survive without you, Cass."
"You'd survive. Life would be dull, though."
A ribbon of guilt ripples through her for some reason. She stops, turning to face him.
"You're sure you don't mind giving up your afternoon?
He waves a bored hand.
"Opera beats paperwork."
Yet the rustling is still unceasing from down the hall, near constant now.
"Sounds like someone needs you."
"Yeah. But not as much as you right now, eh?" He claps her on the shoulder. "Let's go. I'm hungry, and at least Rhys doesn't skimp on the food for these things."
In the end, Cassian is right. He makes a bawdy joke before her that loosens the crowd. The very next day, a sweet-faced but surprisingly militant assistant arrives to her office.
Bent over her sketchbook, she hears Cassian's whistle down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door.
Just Double Dare Me, and I Promise Now That I'll Stay: Ch. 2
HAPPY CASSIAN APPRECIATION WEEK! For Day One: Devotion of @cassianappreciationweek I wrote the next chapter of this 5+1 fic where Nesta doesn't know what she wants, but Cassian knows he wants Nesta.
Chapter Summary: Nesta runs into Cassian on the street, and even though her friends try to talk some sense into her, Nesta can't stay away
Ch. 2/6 | New chapter word count: 8083
Read the new chapter here or start at the beginning here
Starting things off nice and easy with an ATM chapter exploring Cassian's devotion to his people, his mate, and doing the right thing even if it sucks.
Emerie sighed. Scraping her hair back from her face. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Did he?
“What difference will it make?”
“It might calm you down so you stop coming on too strong and scaring that poor girl.”
“She’s not–”
“She is,” Emerie said. Moving behind the counter to pull out some tea leaves. Settling the kettle over her low burning fire, she gestured for him to sit. “I know what a scared girl looks like, Cassian." Shame flared in his chest. "She is terrified and confused and lost. She was thrown into this new world, forced to fight in a war she never expected to survive, and she’s dealing with power she doesn’t properly understand. Not to mention a body that doesn’t feel like her own."
"I know, but I am trying-"
"And," Emerie continued witha sharp glare, "on top of all that some big brute starts stomping his feet and claiming her soul is tied to his.”
“Her soul is tied to mine–”
“That is what you’re taking from everything I just said?”
Let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off the taglist!
Snippet below the cut
Cassian rolled his freshly-taped shoulder, sitting on the bench with one boot tied and the other abandoned next to his foot, pretending to check the weather forecast but instead checking for any new messages, against his better judgement. His eyes roamed over his last exchange with Nesta, lingering on the unanswered question about who would win in a fight, a vampire or a zombie. He’d taken it too far, perhaps. Probably. He was almost completely convinced he ruined it for good, that she’d never talk to him again. Perhaps Azriel had been right, and this had been a stupid idea.
He’d really tried to stay calm and act normal about the fact that she hadn’t answered. He’d gone about his days. He’d done his usual pre-training ritual. He’d been perfectly normal, if he ignored the fact that he’d poured boiling water into a cup that morning and stared at it for almost five minutes, before remembering to put in the actual tea. He was also ignoring the fact that he’d listened to her voice note more times than he should admit, falling asleep to the sound of her voice ranting about Arthurian legends the night before. Cassian knew he wasn’t acting normal, lying on his back in bed with his phone on his chest and Nesta Archeron’s voice cutting through the dark, furious and precise and devastatingly posh, but he couldn’t help it.
He just couldn’t stop listening, and he couldn’t prevent the way she had him under her spell. He had thought, the first time he listened to it, that no woman had ever sounded more enraged about medieval pseudo-history while simultaneously sounding devastatingly concerned about his welfare. By the time he fell asleep, her voice had gone softer in his ear, not because she had softened—God forbid—but because sleep had sanded down the sharp edges. By the end, he’d listened to the rhythm of her voice more than the words. The clipped irritation, and the breath she took halfway through, as if she had realised how long she had been talking and considered stopping, only to continue because the point was apparently too important to abandon. The little, sharp emphases she put on certain words had made him grin into his pillow like an idiot. Around midnight, Cassian was pretty sure he’d probably listen to her tell him off about fraudulent relics, plague transmission, or the ridiculousness of fantastic creatures until the end of his natural life.
Day One: Devotion ⚔︎ Cassian is devoted to many things, his family, his soldiers, Illyria, his mate — how do you see him sharing and showing his devotion? @cassianappreciationweek
Oneshot *Cassian POV* This day will never end, but it's one of the happiest of my life, because anywhere I go...I'm home.
words 2.6k
an Welcome to Day One Of Cassian Appreciation Week! So, let's start with the basics... Not proof read, all mistakes are mine! Happy reading <3
I groaned as I stretched out my hand to kill the alarm. My head snapped around to YN, finding her still asleep. Good, the noise didn’t wake her. I didn’t want to get up yet, so I pressed myself against her sleeping form – breathing evenly and cozily warm beneath the blankets…even if it was the middle of summer. It was still dark outside, the birds hadn't even begun to sing yet. I pressed a kiss to the top of her crown and peeled myself out of bed.
After a quick stop in the bathroom I was in my leathers and let the door fall shut with a soft click behind me. The air was still cool and my wings shuddered against the fresh morning air. I took a deep breath before I was airborne.
I took some large swings to warm up before heading north. Crossing the veil that surrounded Velaris is like a lament and the first rays of sun, a goodbye to something good and a greeting to something that’s going to be even better. The wind was strong and pressing me down, taunting me, but I fought against it until I was flying above the gusts with the sun warming me from behind.
I began to descend towards Windhaven. The roaring fires of the night had shriveled down to glowing embers that speckled the ground like tiny orange bugs. Hues of light blue and pale pink began to paint the sky as I drew nearer and I saw my soldiers assemble in the center of the camp.
There were more than I anticipated. Banners bearing the sigils of each camp fluttered in the wind, marking the clusters of all the different parties that have joined.
Good.
Today was the day of the Endless Sun, the Illyiran celebration of summer solstice. We Illyrians believe that the sun’s strength sharpens our endurance, clears our judgement and drives our courage. The books tell us that every battle that was won beneath the longest sun, was one that honored the Mother herself. She had gifted the Illyrians with wings to reach the sky and as much daylight to conquer the earth below.
But it was not a day of war. Instead, the rival camps set aside grudges and met in contests of skill rather than bloodshed. We had competitions of all kinds: archery, endurance races and flights, wrestling matches with bound limbs and sword duels on cliffs. But not until death, but for glory and victory until every match ended with crossed forearms instead of spilled blood.
It was a day to remember that we were one people before we split into camps.
Thousands of them formed a perfect thick circle of leather clad fighters and left the center clear. I tucked in my wings neatly to drop down. The wind was howling in my ears as the ground drew closer. All heads tilted upward. At the last second, I unfolded my wings to soften my fall just a bit and landed with a ground shaking thud.
As I straightened myself from the crouched position I landed in and rippled my wings, showing off my commanding power in spreading them wide for all of them to see, before snapping them in again. The murmurs died out . Everyone around me got in formation and saluted the Illyrian way.
I stilled for a moment, taking them all in.
And like they all rehearsed, they called in unison. “General.” Their one voice echoing off the mountains.
I saluted them the same way before I spoke.
“It does an warrior’s heart good to see every camp standing together beneath the same sky.” I shouted loud enough for all of them to hear me, slowly turning around to address all of them. “Today, the sun grants us more light than every other day of the year. Our ancestors believed that every extra hour of light was a gift. Not for idleness, but to test ourselves. To fly farther!” They all shanted back every last word.
“To fight harder!”
“To become stronger!”
I let the stillness sweep in again before I got on. “Our ancestors understood something we should never forget. Strength is earned in training. Not in war. And honor is forged in discipline and not measured in opponents we slaughtered." The last word felt bitter on my tongue. Flashes of my rages tried to crawl up but I chugged them down.
"So today, we do not spill Illyrian blood." I yelled with a firm voice. "We sharpen one another instead."
They yelled their approval, while drumming on their breast plate and a smile spread on my face as I began to end my speech.
"Beat your opponent fairly. Push your brothers until they curse your name. Win with pride. Lose with dignity. And if you lose to someone younger…" I shrugged dramatically and grinned. "Train harder before next summer."
A deep roll of laughter rolled across the field.
"But when the last contest ends and darkness claims the mountains…" I took a moment and paused. "We eat together!"
Cheers erupted around me.
"We drink together!"
The cheers grew louder.
"And by the Mother, we remind every mountain from Windhaven to the northern peaks that no one celebrates like an Illyrian!" I raised my fist at the last words and drums began to echo as roars erupted.
Then I shouted over the crowd.” May today’s sun strengthen all of you. May today’s trials sharpen your spirit and may today’s fire remind us all that before we are warriors of different camps–”
I hit my fist against my chest. “ We are Illyrians!”
Like thunder the chants and roars struck the valley.
The games began and I was hassling around to spend some time at each game. Some invited me to a fight as a guest of honor. I didn't even have to try to win.
The only exception I made was with the children… The time I spent there is precious to me as it reminds me of my beginnings in this camp. A bastard born, fighting every day for scraps, beating others for clothes and a better bedsheet to use as a tent, stealing embers to ignite my own little fire for some warmth to thaw my frozen limbs… They invited me for a fight and I stretched it, only using a fraction of my power and in the end…letting them win over me of course.
I knew that the Illyrians were proud and never desired a win out of pity. But I’ve learned that they blossom from such small achievements. So, I let them overpower me and have their moment.
As the sun began its slow descent, the fires were lit again across Windhaven. The day of the fights was over. The night belonged to music, roast meat and overflowing casks of wine and ale. There’s storytelling and enough drinking games to leave even the seasoned warriors and captains stumbling. The camp would remain awake until dawn greets them once again. Then they’d have a good-days sleep.
I didn’t say goodbye to anyone before lying and saying I’m going for a loo. I headed for the nearest cluster of trees and soared through the sky soundlessly. The tension of the day subsided and I felt tired. This day wasn’t going to end.
My wings felt heavy and I thought I pulled a muscle while fighting the small ones. Usually, the way back felt as if time was passing faster. But that was not today. The length stretched on and on until I crossed the veil to Velaris again.
The howling wind that froze my limbs was gone and the smell of jasmine, salt and the water of the glittering Sidra filled my nostrils. Only a speck of blue painted the horizon as I landed on the balcony of the House of Wind. I’d only got minutes left.
I quickly swapped my armor for a dress shirt and a pair of trousers. A quick splash of the well water to freshen up my face. Then I was jumping out of the window, letting my wings take the fall and swung through the warm air, heading towards the rainbow.
This day belonged to Illyria, this night belonged to Velaris.
The floorboards of the stage shuddered as I landed on it unelegantly.
“The last pint with your warriors was too much.” Rhysand mused as he was fixated on the small watch on his wrist. “Just in time. I have to give you that.”
“You know what day it is, Cassian.” Feyre sneered at me. Oh, we’re using legal names. She must be feral.
“Sorry, I got held up.” I huffed with slumped shoulders.
“Sorry doesn't cut it.” Az snapped from beside me, picking a feather from my shoulder.
“We’ve all been waiting for you!” Mor scolded me.
Mother save me!
The curtain in front of us was still closed, so no one saw me arriving late. The crowd in front of it must have been massive. Everyone in Velaris was here today. It was their day, too. Well...their night.
Every year on summer solstice the Inner circle renewed their vows to the people of Velaris. The city had fallen silent as the curtains drew to the sides. Thousands were standing on the central place in the heart of the rainbow, along the banks of the Sidra and some were even perched on the ceilings of the houses. The wind ebbed down, letting the swinging lanterns still. The music had ceased and even the wind had stopped calling between the narrow cobblestone streets.
Amren stepped onto the balcony first and held her speech. She vowed remembrance to the city. Fitting, I think, because of her age. How old was she again?
When she finished, Mor stepped forward and took Amren’s hand, like our self made ceremony demanded it. She promised Welcome to the people. She was the embodiment of freedom, joy and refuge and stood for a life without fear. After her, Azriel vowed to keep them secret, Rysand vowed to lead and Feyre vowed to nurture.
She stretched out her hand, waiting for me to step into the stage light.
I lined myself up with them and for a heartbeat, I simply looked at the people below. My people.
“My family beside me has each promised to guard Velaris in their own way.” I said with a small smile pulling the corners of my lips upwards.
“I’ve never been the one with beautiful words.” The people of Velaris laughed gently at my honest words. “So, I’ll give you the truth instead.”
Suddenly, the crowd grew silent. I hadn’t even prepared a speech like the others did. I was bad at this. Shit. They were all watching me…
“I was born in an Illyrian war camp where males were taught that strength was measured only by brutality and battles. But this city taught me different. It taught me that true strength is measured by compassion and the will to retaliate and love, even if the whole world’s screaming at you, telling you otherwise.”
I let my eyes roam to the kids on their parents shoulders, the teenagers on the roofs, to the woman that held her grandmother in her arms.
“The laughter in the streets. The music drifting from open windows and strangers singing alongside. The artists painting until dawn. The children who have never known war.” My pause let the eerie stillness settle into all our bones. “That is what I fight for. So tonight, before the Mother, before my High Lady and High Lord, before My Mate and my family… before my city and my people…”
I took another deep breath. “I renew the same vow I made decades ago. The vow that no enemy will reach these streets, no child nor elderly will stand alone! And should darkness ever come for this city again, it will have to fight me first. I vow to be your shield!” At that, I took Feyre’s hand to connect the Inner Circle at last. Joined as one again.
As my last words echoed off the streets, the crowd answered with roars of celebration. Firecrackers flew through the air and the music came to life again. The people cheered and clinked their glasses of champagne as they began to dance and sing. Strangers became best friends over a shared pipe, old enemies forgave one another and cousins who haven't seen each other in years clung together like they’ve never been separated. No one celebrated alone.
After that, we ran down the stairs to throw ourselves into the crowd. I could tell from the faint expression on Azriel's face, that his wings hurt too from tucking them in neatly and protecting them from others falling and stumbling in our backs. But we sang along and celebrated with the people, listening to their drunken offerings of thanks and praises. I’ve lost the others more times than I’d like to admit but that was okay. I was amongst my people. Just a special one was missing.
Suddenly, I felt that distinct tug against my ribs. So gentle, so calm. I turned my head towards the street that would lead me away from the cheering crowds.
It was time to go home. Truly home.
I clawed my way through the sea of bodies to find a spot to swing my wings wide and soar through the sky.
The songs grew quieter, the lights dimmed behind me. And finally, I landed on the cobblestone street in front of the picket fence that I just painted last week. Fireflies bumbled through the bushes of blooming lavender that greeted me as I turned the knob of the front door to let myself in. I peeled out of my overheated shoes and abandoned my beer spilled shirt and trousers in the powder room downstairs. I washed my hands and turned the light on the porch off before I headed upstairs. Following the fragrance of gorse, I crossed the doorway into the bedroom, finding my beautiful mate inside our bed. Just as I left her.
My heart filled with joy, imagining her sleeping in, enjoying a cup of tea on the porch and reading until it was time for lunch and feeding the strays before getting cozy on the sofa. Maybe she went for a walk in the garden and the market to get some produce to cook a meal – I’m sure she left something on the stove – and then taking a bath and getting ready for bed.
A single lit candle flickered on the nightstand as she was sitting against the headboard, smiling dearly at me.
“Hey sweetheart.” I greeted my mate, the mattress dipping as I sat down on my side.
“Hey, handsome.” Her voice was like honey to a sore throat. “How was your day?” She reached out and cupped my cheek. I leaned into her touch.
“Fine. But never ending. I’m happy that I’m home.” I said exhaustedly and got under the covers.
“How are you?” I asked, smiling at her. Then my eyes drifted lower. “You two?”
The duvet fell as she exposed her middle section, her hands falling on her belly. “We’re good. But it’s getting a little uncomfortable right now.” She smiled through the rambling inside of her.
I took her in my arm, my other hand sprawling across her swollen belly, the babe kicking against my hand as if scolding me for coming home too late.
“I’m sorry little one.” I crouched down to whisper to my unborn child. “Not long and I’ll have you in my arms. We can fight and dance together. Sounds good?”
A kick answered me.
“I’m due a week now. You promise you’ll be home next week?” She asked me with her cute scrunched nose as our babe turned and kicked inside of her.
⚔️ As we know, Cassian is loyal to Rhysand above all else along side being devoted to the Night Court. He is the General of the Night Court armies. It may not seem like it because he can be a goofball and screws things up sometimes, but he is very devoted to his role in his brother’s life. Being apart of Rhysand’s Inner Circle is the closest thing he’s had to a real home so he holds on to that a little too tightly.
🦇 Out of all the batboys, Cassian is the most in touch with his Illyrian heritage and genuinely wants positive change for his people. Cassian is the one who tries his best to make sure the Illyrians have supplies and he will sometimes take on a mentor/big brother role with young Illyrians who are either bastards like him or orphaned. His reputation isn’t the best among the Illyrians but he keeps trying to help nonetheless. Cassian absolutely loves Velaris but he secretly hopes he can help Illyria become even a fraction of well off as the City of Starlight. In fact, he still feels like Illyria is his home despite living in Velaris in many of Rhysand’s homes.
🛡️Cassian is clearly a devoted warrior. He trains constantly to the point that some have wondered if it’s become his hobby. He loves the adrenaline of battle. People have compared him to the legendary Enalius after all. He loves being about to bring home battle stories to laugh about with his friends over drinks. He won’t admit it but given Tamlin is known for his strength, Cassian does kind of want to go at it with hand-to-hand with him someday to test his own strength again the High Lord.
🌃 When it comes to Selena, Cassian is a devoted golden retriever. When they first met, he immediately adopted her as a little sister figure given how tiny she is next to his towering frame but the more he got to know her, over time things changed. Cassian is the one making her slightly burnt pancakes, eggs and sausage in bed, telling her she needs the protein to get through the day. He’s constantly trying to drag her to training with him, even if it’s just to show off shirtless in front of her. He is her partner-in-crime when things get a little chaotic. Honestly, his loyalty to her rivals his loyalty to Rhysand and that often puts him in an awkward spot trying to scramble to keep the peace when Selena and Rhysand argue.
