Soooo this all started when @janearts and I got to talking about rugby and how Cassian would def make a good rugby player, and here we are. I canât stop looking at Rugby!Cassian.
Let me know if youâd like to be added to or taken off the taglist!
Snippet below the cut
RUCK ME
MAUL ME
MAKE ME SCRUM
Nesta stared at it for one full second, and thought, somewhat deliriously, that Emerie was a dead woman. She considered getting up and leaving, walking directly back into the Edinburgh night.
Then she looked at the man wearing it, and her staring took on a somewhat different quality.
His picture hadnât done his size justice, since he was broad enough that two people could probably live comfortably on each shoulder. Whoever had assembled him had been working from a different set of specifications than the rest of the population. Dark-haired with mesmerizing hazel eyes and a jaw that had no business being that defined in ordinary life. She was sure he never once had to think about whether he could reach the thing on the top shelf, or punch the light out of someoneâs eyes. Her gaze traveled lower, and all coherent thought left her mind. Good god. He had thighs like tree trunks. The man was wearing jeans which were clearly fighting for their lives. He could crush her skull with those things.
He was scanning the pub with an ease completely foreign to her. He found her, and his face broke into a smile. Immediate, unguarded, a little obscene in how wide it was, and it landed on her across the pub like something she felt rather than just saw.
Oh.
Oh. Right. Okay.
The smile was dangerous. Crooked. Easy. Like he knew exactly how charming he was.
Oh, this is going to be a problem.
He navigated between tables with the loose-limbed ease of someone who never apologised for taking up space. He arrived at her table and looked down at herâmany inches of down, which was not something she was accustomed to.
âPlease tell me,â she said dryly before he could speak, âyou lost a bet.â
I have learned that I can't write about anything unless I can visualise it. Unlike SJM, I can't keep everything in my headâ(although, arguably, neither can she)âso I need maps and diagrams. "3D" model of Windhaven is based off of drawings of glacial landforms. Mountainous landscapes were based off of staring at many, many pictures of mountain ranges in Europe (i.e., the Alps), New Zealand, and the USA.
Concept art is for my ACOSF rewrite, A Court of Steel and Flame.
First six chapters of A Court of Steel and Flame are up on AO3... and I needed to immediately plot out Cassian's house that has lived in my head and only in my head. Emerie & Devlon are of course canon, but Perendiya is my first non-canon character introduced in my foefic.
I'd like to give kudos to Tiny Glade for helping me test out different design ideas while being able to pet sheep and listen to very soothing music. 10 outta 10 would recommend.
I finally pulled the trigger on my canon rewrite and started posting it to AO3! The first three chapters are currently available to read, and I'll be posting new chapters as I go.
Nesta Archeron has isolated herself from the Inner Circle, leading a cloistered life in another part of Velaris and only resurfacing now and again to ask her sister Feyre for money. But Nesta has made many enemies and few friends in her short time as a High Fae, and Queen Briallyn yet plots against her. Unbeknownst to Nesta, so too do her in-laws. High Lord Rhysand will do what it takes to keep Nesta safe and sound within the bounds of the Night Court - at the heart of his Illyrian armies, guarded by his most feared General and brother, Cassian - even if they have to drag her there kicking and screaming. But will Cassian and Nesta survive each other as the Inner Circle eliminates their enemies? Only time (and an ill-advised bargain) will tell.
Start reading A Court of Steel and Flame.
Disclaimer: I would hope that this is self-evident, but I'll spell it out just to be on the safe side: this may not be a fanfic for someone who really enjoyed ACOSF... because this is a foefic. I had issues with ACOSF, and now I want to try my hand at writing what I wanted to read.
Miss Archeron had at first scarcely allowed him to be handsome; she had looked at him without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, she looked at him only to criticise. But no sooner had she made it clear to herself and her friends that he had hardly a good feature in his face, than she began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of his dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though she had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in his form, she was forced to acknowledge his figure to be strong and pleasing; and in spite of her asserting that his manners were not those of the fashionable world, she was caught by their easy playfulness. Of this he was perfectly unaware; -- to him she was only the female who made herself agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought him handsome enough to dance with.
- A Court of Pride & Prejudice
Yesterday, it was North and South. Today, it is Pride & Prejudice. I could not stop perceiving Nesta as a Darcy-type while watching, which left Cassian and his messy familial relations to take the part of Lizzy and a wealthier set of Bennetts. Would it be a perfect adaptation? No. But when has that ever stopped me? â.Ëâź
She was the proudest, most disagreeable female in Prythian, and every body hoped that she would never come there again. - ACOSF, probably.
I am unfortunately in that completely uncreative part of my hyperfixation where I can't enjoy something without putting Said Fixation in Situations. (Prognosis? Absolutely awful.) So, may I present: North and South but with Nesta & Cassian.
Just had to say that I was reading some Nessian and I realized that the Cassian I picture when reading is yours.
Your Nessian art convinced me to read the series again, after I had originally dropped it after reading the beginning of MaF and being displeased lol.
Imo SF should have gone the way your art depicts it, but I'm still addicted regardless. Thanks for the perfect mental image.
Thank you! đ I definitely draw him older and fatter than what I'm sure SJM intended, so I appreciate someone else sharing my âšvisionâš even unconsciously lmao
â But let me also do a quick PSA to anyone reading this who is wondering if they should read the actual books â
My Nessian art should not be convincing anyone to read the series because it is in NO way based on any canon events. I am actively cranky about canon events. Just FYI to anyone who is like, 'Should I read this series???' No, no you should not. SJM is great at the Short Grift (good at getting me emotionally invested in The Idea or The Premise or The Character(s) or The Romance) but terrible at the Long Con (she's actively awful at building a fantasy world with any depth let alone rich and varied fantasy cultures, writing political intrigue and plots that Actually Make Senseâą and are a logical progression of her previous works, and writing characters so consistently that she demonstrates that she understands them as if they were real people and not just fictional fodder for whatever shallow melodrama she wants to see played out on the page for Just That Particular Scene). I'm obsessed about my fan version of it. I am unwell - the rest of you can still save yourselves.
Your Nessian art is so perfect and your stories so well thought out and beautiful and I wish you'd written ACOSF
So, first, the good news: I've written 90k of an ACOSF rewrite.
And now, the bad news: It's all self-indulgent individual scenes and fluff and to make it in anyway presentable I need to, y'know, actually stitch them together and oooh idk make sure there's a plot in there somewhere asdflkjadk
Anyway, I'm including my Chapter 43 rewrite of Nesta & Cassian meeting Eris in Spring under the cut.
Azriel landed them softly in Spring within the gentle shadows of a great beech tree. Nesta stepped out from under the heavy boughs, and her face relaxed into one of quiet wonder. Cassian would have taken longer to appreciate the moment, but he could feel the cold-like symptoms slowly start to claw at his body with every inhale. He kept to the smooth-barked tree as long as was possible, and closed his eyes. Eris couldnât see him like this, completely at the mercy of some plant dust.
He heard the long grasses rustle, and opened one eye to see Nesta wandering out first to a purple lilac bush, which she admired for a time before moving towards a bramble of roses. He was supposed to protect her; he was supposed to play courtier with her. How pathetic that he felt he could do little of either in this moment. He sneezed, then cursed under his breath.
âWhat is it?â
âItâs nothing.â A lie. The sickness had already begun to consume him, and Cassian scratched at his collarbone.
Nesta looked him up and down, assessing him with narrowed eyes. âWe called it âhay feverâ when I was human.â Cassian squinted right back, although that was more because he was trying not to sneeze. Nesta cocked her head, and walked back to his side. âI bathed twice daily just to keep it at bay. The laundress had to dry our clothes indoors just so the pollen wouldnât stick.â
Her words sounded uncharacteristically kind in this moment, and Cassian felt an irrational burst of irritation. Did she pity him? He had been pitiable before, with broken wings and a broken heart, and Nesta had never stooped so low as to console the likes of him.
âTwo baths, princess? I feel sorry for the poor souls carting all that bathwater around.â
He was getting better at reading Nestaâs blink-and-youâll-miss-it expressions. He registered a small look of shock, blinked away in the next hundredth of a second, before her cold-blooded temperament returned. Perhaps it made him doubly the bastard, but he was gratified that he could get under her skin as surely as this âhay feverâ had gotten under his.
âThat was the sort of existence Feyre was born into, too,â she said with a sneer. âBefore our father ruined us. Before we were lucky to take a bath a week. Before Elain and I started to draw straws for who would be lucky enough to get in first.â
Cassian raised an eyebrow, noting the absence of his High Ladyâs name in the draw for who got to bathe first. âAnd who drew the bath water?â
âThe two of us,â said Nesta.
âBut there were three of you in that cottage.â
Nesta snorted disdainfully. âElain and I hauled and heated the water. We drew the straws.â Her voice grew falsely chipper. âDoes that conclude the interrogation, General, or would you like to haul me down into the Hewn City dungeons for further questioning about my bathing habits?â
Cassian felt his cheeks heat, and then felt his face burn further from the embarrassment and frustration that such tame innuendo could affect him at all. He rolled his eyes with a sigh and moved past her into the sunshine, driving the image of a bathing Nesta out of his mind.
âI wouldnât go that way if I were you,â Nesta warned.
âWhy not?â
She gestured at a distant copse of silver trees, their green leaves shimmering in the breeze. Her tight-lipped smile was cold as ice. âBirch trees flower in spring,â she said.
âThose are aspens.â
Nesta shrugged and examined her nails, every bit as infuriating as Rhysand when he was determined to be right. âGo inhale a catkin, then.â
He paused with a grim, stubborn set to his jaw before swallowing his pride. Better to swallow his pride than to be unable to swallow at all. âIf Eris doesnât show soon, we leave.â
And with that, he went back to the shade of the beech tree to rub his back against its trunk. Cassian didnât care if he looked like a bear or barbarian, his whole body was itchy and there were spots on his back that he couldnât reach.
âWould you stop that?!â Nesta hissed. âEris could be here any second. Have some sense of decorum.â
Someone laughed to Cassianâs left, and Cassian stopped, sighing despondently. His back really was itchy.
âOh, I very much doubt he has any sense at all,â said a familiar voice.
And, of course, there was Eris, prim and proper with nary a hair out of place. Eris straightened his green and russet jerkin with a small, decisive tug before approaching Nesta with a cool and easy grace. As if the grass and uneven ground were nothing to him.
âNesta Archeron,â Eris said with a brief and empty smile, his eyes raking her from her coronet braid to her soft-toed slippers and back up. âIf anyone had bothered to mention that you would be here, I would have been on time.â
He reached for Nestaâs hand, and Cassian tensed. Autumnâs prince bowed, drawing Nestaâs knuckles to his lips in a quick press before releasing her. Nesta stood there, frozen as if mesmerised, and Erisâ lips quirked upward in a smug smile.
Cassian frowned immediately at the sight, thinking only that Eris looked like a charming faerie prince who had walked out of one of Nestaâs romance novels. No, scratch that. He was a Fae prince. And a bit of a prat, but Nesta didnât know Eris like he did. Would see only the princely exterior and not the rotten soul beneath. Cassianâs gaze darted to Nesta, as if suddenly worried that she had seen all her romantic hopes and dreams take shape in Eris.
Well, he hadnât played buffer between Azriel and Mor for centuries without cultivating some measure of skill at it. Cassian strode over, willing to throw himself bodily between the two.
âLetâs get this over with,â he said gruffly. âDo you want the good news or the bad news first, Eris?â
Erisâ little smirk dropped the moment he turned to face Cassian. Good. Let his presence douse any notion of a flirtation with Nesta Archeron.
âGive me the bad,â Eris said. His lips formed another smile, but this smileâunlike the ones that he had given to Nestaâspelled danger. It said: Try me.
âThe bad news is most of your soldiers are dead.â
âAnd the good news in that isâŠ?â
âWell,â started Cassian, who really would have preferred delivering this news the other way around. âWe found them. And two yet live.â
Erisâ face was a cordial mask that thinly veiled the cold fury beneath. But Cassian had weathered a colder wrath from a more vicious opponent beforeâ(she was standing right there, watching him closely)âand he wasnât going to let Autumnâs prince rile him.
âAnd who killed them, exactly?â
Without so much as a glance towards Nesta, Cassian told the lie he had prepared himself to make. âAzriel and I did.â He held up his hands at the sight of Erisâ jaw tensing. âIt wasnât intentional. They attacked us in Oorid, and we defended ourselves. Iâm sorry, Eris, they were enthralled and wouldnât cease.â
âBut you did manage to stop two of them without killing them,â Eris said. âTell me, Lord of Bloodshed, did you even think to spare my soldiers or did that only occur to you when there were only two of them left?â
Cassian winced. He opened his mouth to speak, but Eris cut him off.
âLet me guess: Azriel wanted two alive for questioning and that got through your bloodlust to the pea-brained thoughts beneath. Will you be returning the survivors to me in one piece? Or should I send for a healer upon their return?â
Cassian pursed his lips before he answered with a forced calm, âThe two we captured are safe and sound, I assure you.â
Eris snorted derisively, âIâll be the judge of that. Iâm assuming that they received Rhysandâs particular brand of hospitality?â When Cassian didnât immediately respond, he clarified. âHave a little rifle through their minds, did he? Did he even bother to ask nicely first or did he just dive right in?â
âHe went into their minds, yes, but only because we couldnât get a word out of them.â
Eris raised his eyebrows. âOh, so they received Azrielâs particular brand of hospitality as well, then?â
Cassian bristled. âWhat do you want, Eris? They were crazed and wouldnât listen to reason. They canât even speak.â
Eris sighed. âYouâre right. I donât know what I was thinking, entrusting that sort of mission to two Illyrian bastards and a half-breed. Shouldâve known that if Briallyn hadnât killed them my so-called allies would.â
Cassianâs siphons flared with his rage. He had stabbed Eris once in the gut and he would gladly do it again coughing and sneezing in this godsforsaken court if he had to.
Cassian took one lumbering step forward, but Nesta stepped in front of him. She did it with the lofty air and elegant grace of an offended princess, as if she had grown bored of Erisâ attentions towards Cassian and desired them all to herself. Cassian glared at the back of her head. He had been thwarted and yet felt simultaneously furious and grateful for her quick intervention.
âThe soldiers were armed with ash arrows,â she observed. âI wonder, Eris, how those soldiers might have come by such weapons. Did Briallyn arm them⊠or did you?â
When Eris only raised a disapproving brow, Nesta angled herself to include Cassian in the discussion once more.
âThe use of ash weapons is banned among the Courts in Prythian, isnât it?â
Cassian was caught off guard by how innocently she blinked up at him, as if she had no idea how any of this worked when she had been witness to it. He swallowed thickly, convincing himself it was just to assuage the tickling feeling in his throat and nothing more.
Cassian cleared his throat. âYes, thatâs correct.â
Nesta swung her head back toward Eris. Cassian shifted so the three of them formed less of a U and more of a triangle. He wanted to see Nesta the Noblewoman at work. Nesta merely looked Eris up and down, her coy smile a mirror to his earlier smug one.
âAlthough, why would a prince store such weapons for his private guard that he wouldnât extend to his fatherâs armies?â she mused. Then, her lips curled and her smile deepened. âUnless he had a target closer to home.â
Eris snorted. âQuite the imagination you have, Lady Archeron, but little in the way of proof.â
âWould an ash arrow through the heart of a High Lord be enough to kill him, do you think?â
Eris held her stare. âIs that why you called me here? To tell me my soldiers are dead and to entertain some foolish flights of fancy? This could have been a letter. You waste my time, my lady, and time is precious even to Fae.â
Nesta only hummed, breaking eye contact to idly brush one of Erisâ shoulder free of yellow pollen. It was a surprisingly intimate gesture, and Cassian frowned as an unwelcome bout of jealousy flared in his chest. She looked back up at Eris with a small, smug smile.
âJust as you are wasting ours. Youâre in a precarious position, arenât you, Eris? Your father wonât do you the kindness of dying, but you canât openly rebel against him. Itâd be counter-intuitive as the heir presumptive. But power can only go to the highest bidder, and you have many competitors in your brothers and their families, donât you? So you need allies. Powerful ones. To support your claim to the throne and to boost your power in turn so that you are the strongest, most obvious choice for High Lord. Allies that could just as easily reveal your duplicity to the current High Lord of Autumn.â
Like the wolfsbane that grew wild in the mountainous regions of Illyria, Nestaâs smile was beautiful to behold and just as deadly. Cassian fought a sneeze, rubbing his tongue on the roof of his mouth, desperate not to ruin the moment. Nesta, quickly followed by Rhys, would have his head. âFortunately,â she continued smoothly, âwe have no desire to withdraw our support of your ambitions or investigate the source of the ash arrows.â
Erisâ returning grin was ferocious. There was a glint in his eye that Cassian couldnât quite decipher, but the male would have to be daft not to recognise the thinly-disguised threat.
Then Eris laughed. âOh, I was wrong about you, Nesta Archeron. My little brotherâs mate may be a reputed beauty, but I much prefer your steel.â
Nesta had stiffened at the mention of Elain, and her smile turned brittle. âDo you? Careful you donât hurt yourself.â
Cassian drew close to Nesta, and placed a hand on the small of her back. A little intervention of his own, intended to be supportive. Nestaâs shoulders imperceptibly relaxed, but Cassian marked it. He found himself suddenly and instantaneously in an unusually amiable mood: Nesta had threatened the would-be High Lord twice with an adroitness that he admired, and his touch had eased her. It lent him a certain magnanimity he otherwise would not possess when it came to Eris.
âI am sorry I couldnât save more of your soldiers, Eris. We will send the two to your steward, although theyâre still enthralled by Briallyn. I know there is nothing that can replace a loved one, but I will pay the blood price for those lost.â
Nesta looked over at him, and in the brief moment when their eyes met, Cassian could have sworn he saw a flicker of approval. Then, he twisted away to sneeze into his wing.
Eris waved a dismissive hand. âYes, yes, Iâll simply bill you, will I?â
Cassian opened his mouth, but stopped in confusion as Eris froze. Damn his stuffed up nose, what did he sense? He inhaled sharply, then caught the scent that had caused Eris to go preternaturally still.
Cassian inelegantly grabbed Nesta and pulled her behind him as the thicket of thorny pink roses parted for their master.
Tamlin.
The High Lord of Spring was a beast with fur as gold as barley, eyes as green as the verdant fields he ruled, and deadly antlers that protruded from the base of his skull. Cassian was familiar with Illyrian red stags and knew how spear-like those points could be. He took a step back, a hand cast out behind him to keep Nesta from doing something stupid. Like taunting the creature. Tamlin tracked Cassianâs movement and bared incisors the size of daggers in a snarl. Cassian spread his wings slightly in response.
âEasy,â Cassian said, slowly reaching back for Nestaâs hand. Eris could winnow, but heâd have to take flight⊠and fast enough to avoid Tamlinâs horns, teeth, and claws. Not to mention his power.
âYou trespass.â The words rasped from the beastâs throat as if he was unused to speech.
âWe had little choice.â
The voice came from behind himâNesta. She sauntered out as if she was queen of this court. She stood beside Cassian and yanked her arm away as Cassian tried unsuccessfully to manoeuvre her back behind him.
She stood defiantly between Cassian and Eris and raised an imperious eyebrow. âWhere else are we supposed to hold a tryst?â
Cassian turned towards her until he was sure his face was hidden from the High Lordâs sight, and opened his eyes wide in disbelief and alarm. How he wished he had Rhysandâs power of mindspeak. He would have screamed, What do you think youâre doing?!?
âTryst?â
Cassian couldnât see Tamlinâs expression, but the growled word held a measure of suspicion and disgust. He took offence to that.
Eris, however, was unflappable. He smoothly shifted towards Nesta, putting an arm about her waist and raising his own eyebrows to match Nestaâs expression. âYes. Can you be so surprised? Where else on this Mother-forsaken island can we go for a bit of privacy?â
âThere are many courts,â the beast replied.
âWith many eyes and many wagging tongues,â added Nesta.
âAnd even fewer that would countenance an Illyrian,â amended Eris with a supercilious smirk.
Fine, then. If Eris was going to play along, so could he. Cassian grimaced before turning back to face Tamlin. He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, âGuilty on all counts. Still banned from the Summer Court.â
âAnd you thought I would stomach a member of the Night Court here?â
Cassian tensed until his back prickled with awareness as Nesta reached out to hold the third finger of his wing. He repressed a pleasurable shudder as she caressed the back of the membrane with one of her fingers. It was hardly an erogenous zoneâthe equivalent of stroking his forearm and handâbut touching an Illyrianâs wings outside of the bedroom or combat was practically taboo. But did Nesta know that? Or Tamlin?
âI didnât think of you when planning a day out, no,â said Nesta. âWhy should I? Rumour has it that you donât manage your lands anyway.â
Erisâ expression was as cool as Nestaâs as he said, âAnd therefore wouldnât notice three Fae looking for a spot of fun.â He looked the High Lord up and down. âPity we only have room for one animal in our group.â
A sneeze that Cassian had successfully been holding at bay launched a surprise attack, and Cassian covered his nose and mouth with his wing. Eris cast him a sly, denigrating look that suggested Cassian had about as much sexual allure as a pox-ridden toad.
Tamlin's narrowed eyes moved to Cassian. âMy court does not agree with you.â
âMaybe it would if you bothered to rule it,â Cassian muttered irritably with a sniff.
âOh grab some butterbur already,â muttered the beast, before he hauled himself to all fours and turned away on silent paws.
Nesta called after him, adopting the tones of a spoiled aristocrat. âDoes that mean we have permission to stay?â
âI donât care what you do,â the beast called back with a sincere tone of deep apathy. The thicket parted, and with a flick of his tail, Tamlin was gone.
Nesta released Cassianâs wing to cover her mouth with delicate fingers, and Cassian tore his gaze away from the thicket to watch her. He thought she was aghast until he saw her trying to repress a laugh.
Eris followed her gaze to where Tamlin had disappeared into the thicket, and hummed. âBetween the two of you, I still think you have the bigger set of balls, Lady Archeron.â
To Cassianâs surprise, a curt, unwanted laugh escaped Nestaâs lips. He huffed at the sight.
Eris relinquished his hold on Nesta and stepped back. âYou play the game well. Why donât you play it with me in Autumn? Youâll find me a much more thrilling opponent than the brute next to you.â He smirked. âWhen you tire of him pawing at you, come find me. I assure you my dogs are better behaved.â
With a smile on his lips, Eris gave her a small, admiring nod and vanished.
Nesta turned with some hauteur back towards Cassian, who sneezed again. Cassian rubbed his eyes with a groan, but pulled his hands away in time to see Nesta reach into her cleavage to pull out a handkerchief. What else does she hide in there? Cassian wondered before gratefully taking the piece of warm fabric and blowing his nose.
âAugh,â he said, shaking his head as if that would help matters. âThank you. Letâs get the fuck out of here.â
Nesta lifted her arms up imperiously, preparing herself to be lifted into his arms. A curt laugh escaped Cassian and then, not being able to help himself, he grinned.
One arched eyebrow told him she thought he was being ridiculous. âWhat?â
âI just had a vision of you as a pup demanding to be picked up.â He scooped her up into his arms, âIâm assuming you were a very bossy six year old.â
There was a flash of softness in those blue-grey eyes. And possiblyâ Sadness? It was there and gone before Cassian could decipher the emotion. She frowned at him instead, âA what?â
âA six year old? I know youâre Fae now, but Iâm sure youâre still familiar with the passage of time.â
âNo, before that. Pup?â
âItâs an Illyrian term of endearment for a child. Like a baby bat. Donât humans have something similar?â
Nesta shrugged, her arms around his neck. âKid?â
He frowned, âA baby goat?â
âLamb, sometimes,â Nesta amended.
âAlways something edible, then.â
She scoffed. He spread his wings wide, shutting one eye in irritation as his wing beats stirred up more pollen as he launched them into the sky.
Your nessian is đđ„°đđ„čâ€ïžđ i love it. This is THE look i imagine for both of them. We need more sharp featured nesta and cassian with facial hair.
Thank you! ;w; I should note - I add hair everywhere. âš
I thought more about respect than worship for Day Six: Reverence â· for @nessianweek. In my opinion, SJM missed the boat in ACOSF by having Cassian take off-page dance lessons with Mor - I get that she wanted him to surprise Nesta but that translates to more quality time with Mor and less time on-page spent dancing with Nesta. Meanwhile, Nesta participated in Cassian's interests throughout the book (whether or not she wanted to is a discussion for another day). She even read books that Cassian liked to read. It didn't feel like a two-way street. I would've liked to have seen Cassian participating in Nesta's interests with Nesta, even if that means being a little irreverent in the process.
I strongly disagree with one point,Cassian did partipated WITH Nesta in her interests. Cassian went with Nesta to her childhood home at her request,he made the magical symphony for HER because she loves music, he conviced Emerie to participate in the training and read the book about the Valkyrys fighting methdhods all night so he can teach her.And lets not forget that he bought her book at SOLSTICE NIGJTagain because Caass KNOWS she loves books
What you listed are largely gifts for Nesta to enjoy or one-off activities they did together when I want Cassian to participate in her interests. Participate is the operative word - to share in something together.
Let's go down the line, shall we?
Childhood Home Visit: I would categorise this as a one-off activity that they did together. It's not like Nesta is a Home Traveller Enjoyer nor does she visit Derelict Shacks around Prythian as a hobby. That's not to say that this wasn't a meaningful experience to Nesta nor that Cassian's presence bore no weight but it's not a hobby nor really a sustained interest.
Magical Symphony: this is a gift for Nesta to enjoy. This is like gifting your sports-loving wife a jersey of her favourite team. It says, "I see your interest and I support your interest" but it doesn't necessarily say, "And I'm going to share in your interest with you [by going to the matches this season with you, by getting my own jersey and plopping down next to you on the couch when the match is on, etc.]." It would be another thing if SJM had made that explicit. A scenario where Cassian gifted Nesta the musical symphony and offered himself up as her eternal dance partner, should she want him as one? Or express an interest in lessons in dancing from Nesta using this magical symphony? That would be an example of Cassian sharing in Nesta's interests because he's willing to participate in them.
Convinced Emerie to Participate in the Training: I do not consider Training to be one of Nesta's interests. I don't consider it an interest of hers because she would not have chosen to train of her own free will had she not been forced into Plot Circumstances. Nesta in ACOSF was abducted to the House of Wind, forced to labour in the library, brought to Windhaven against her will to train, and chooses to train in the privacy of the House of Wind because she sees it's in her best interests for her own survival. Fighting is one of Cassian's interests - something that he has been trying to rope Nesta into for what? 2.5 books? This is like if you were really into golf and really good at golf and you told your wife that you were going on vacation... only that vacation turned out to be at a country club golf resort with nothing but Golf! Golf! Golf! And then, you turned to me, a perfect stranger, and said, "But I convinced her friend Emerie to also do the Golf! So we can all share in our favourite pasttime together. Wasn't that a nice thing for me to do?" I would think you were absolutely stark raving mad.
Convinced Nesta to read a book about the Valkyries so he can teach her: Yeah, this is the same as above as far as I'm concerned. He's not inviting her to read a book of her preference (like a romance novel that should be entered into the unofficial book club circulation). Using the metaphor above, this is like getting your wife a book about Female Golfers and Their Triumphs. It's still about fucking GOLF.
He Bought Her A Book: this is another gift for Nesta to enjoy without any explicit commentary that Cassian is willing to enjoy it with her. We're revisiting the magical symphony listed above. Again, it would be different if Cassian had got her a romance novel and explicitly said, "I read it. I thought it was really good. I'd love to talk with you about it as you read through it." OR "I haven't read this one yet, but I heard from Gwyn that it's really good. I was thinking that maybe we could read it together, if you wanted?" THAT would be an example of Cassian actively looking to join Nesta in doing something that she loves.
The crux of my drawing and text was that I wanted Cassian to PARTICIPATE - to join, to share, to be a part of, to be ACTIVE and INVOLVED - in a hobby or interest that is Nesta's alone. I wanted him to dance WITH her beyond a ball scene where he gets jealous of another and cuts in (and then STOPS dancing with her the moment the threat of Eris is neutralised). I wanted him to read WITH her a book of HER choosing from a genre that SHE likes. All the things you listed just don't cut it for me, I'm sorry.
Converted a WIP into a submission for Day Seven: Free Day â· for the last day of 2025 @nessianweek!
Also including a writing WIP. In my ACOSF rewrite, Cassian bargains for Nesta to spend a year and a day with him in Illyria for her own safety to protect her from the machinations of Briallyn and other fae courts as they vie for power in the wake of the destruction of Hybern and the Spring Court. (My writing/drawing for Day Two: Bargains sets up the premise.)
ââââââ· âââââ
Cassian took a deep breath, and knocked on the bedroom door.
âWhat do you want?â came Nestaâs muffled voice from behind the door. Her irritation, on the other hand, came through the thick wooden door quite clearly.
Cassian cleared his throat. âIâm sorry. About earlier.â He looked up at his ceiling in a silent prayer for strength and fortitude before continuing, âYouâre my guest, and I was breaking about twelve rules of Illyrian hospitality. While youâre here, Iâll take care of you. That includes meals. Iâve made stew if youâre hungry.â
There was a pregnant pause that made him fidget in silence, until he heard the door creak open. Nesta looked at him stonily, as if she had a mind to make him toil for her forgiveness, before looking down at the plate and bowl in his hands, âWhat kind of stew?â
He shrugged, âVenison and root vegetables. With fresh bread and butter.â He felt a blush coming on, an inkling of shame and embarrassment, and he looked down at the stew with her. âYou wonât get the variety of food here that you can in Velaris. The mountains become almost impassable in winter, so we eat with the seasons - whatever you can grow, gather, herd, or hunt.â
The only relief was that since he and Rhys had concocted this half-baked plan to bring Nesta to Illyria, he had been able to fill the earth cellar outside the house to the brim in preparation. He stored all the things he knew would be scarcer once the trade routes to the mountains were cut off by snow and poor weather conditions: salt, nuts, vegetables, cured meats, grains, butter, cowâs milk and cheeses. He had stocked up on it all.
âGo on,â Cassian gently encouraged. Nesta hadnât yet taken the food from his hand, but was watching him suspiciously. âI havenât poisoned it. Itâs not magicked. Itâs perfectly safe to eat. You might even like it.â
She rolled her eyes and accepted the plate. âThank you.â Then, she disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door.
Cassian sighed before wandering back to his own table to eat. He sat, staring for a moment at his own bowl and then at the closed door. This wasnât what he had envisioned for a whole year: her in her room and him outside of it, waiting. Elain had told him to be patient and imperturbable, but he came by neither of those traits naturally. Feyre had also advised him to curb his temper, which was fucking rich coming from her. Cassian steeled himself before going over to the door and knocking again.
âWhat?â
âWhy donât you come out and eat dinner with me? I have a table and everything.â
âNo thank you.â
âYou canât possibly think to stay in that room all winter, Nesta. Youâll drive yourself crazy.â
âIâll manage.â
âListen, Iâll make a deal with you. Eat with me at the table, and I wonât speak unless spoken to. I might even have a book or two you can read instead of talking to me. Or I can just as easily eat outside your door and tell you all about my day. Itâs been a long one. Weâre hosting some games among the war bands this year late in the summer, and I donât think Devlon or his soldiers are really ready forââ
The door opened, fully this time, and an irate Nesta was on the other side of it. Cassian didnât know what part of him had grown so twisted in darkness, but even her anger felt like the glowing warmth of sunshine. He wanted to bask in it.
âFetch. A. Book,â she commanded in a firm staccato, as if he had trouble hearing.
Cassian smirked and jerked his head towards the kitchen. âTake a seat, and Iâll see what I can find.â
He was able to source a book or two that Mor had left behind from the last time she had stayed with him. He flipped through the pages quickly to ensure there was no evidence that they were once her property before offering them up as a sacrifice to Nesta. She picked one and began to read.
Cassian ate comfortably before the twisted, perverted part of him that wanted her attention at any cost started to nip at his heels again. He valiantly resisted the urge to provoke her or speak out of turn until the desire became unbearable and he yielded to it.
Placing his spoon down, he propped his chin on his fist and watched her read. This had the desired affect: Nesta looked over the top of the book to glare at him. He only briefly raised his eyebrows in question. Far be it from him to lose at a game of his own creation. Nesta glowered at him for a moment before returning to her book.
He watched her diligently ignore him for a time before she dropped the book to scowl at him. Cassian merely allowed himself a smile.
Nesta broke first.
âI thought we had a deal.â
âWe did,â Cassian admitted airily. âHow do you like the stew?â
âPassable.â Itâs delicious, Cassian, thank you for slaving over a hot stove for me, he translated in his head until Nesta very primly laced her fingers together on the tabletop. All trace of irritation had been quickly and quietly snuffed out. The female who sat before him now was made entirely of ice and steel. She leaned in slightly, as if to make sure her words would hit their mark. âI know you think this little bargain of yours is very clever, so let me make things perfectly clear. It won't work. We are not friends. We will never be friends. We are nothing to each other, and we will still be nothing to each other after a year and a day. So go about your business, and leave me to mine.â
Cassian felt stunned into silence, momentarily transported to a cold winterâs night on the banks of the Sidra. Prior to that night, he had forbidden himself from thinking of her. During that night and for every night after, he couldnât stop. It had taken everything in him to pretend to be normal, to be unaffected by her dispassion, to care nothing of her in return. His pride goaded him to ignore her, to give her a taste of her own medicine, but when she hardly seemed to notice his inattention, it stung all the harder. He had lashed out, said things designed to hurt her, but instead of fire he was met with ash.
She was right, of course, even if she didn't realise the extent of it. The bargain was part of a plot built on the flimsiest of pretences. Rhys had come to him with the magic words he had wanted to hear: I have a way to fix it. After all, it had worked for him, hadnât it? I grew on her, Rhys had said with a small, contented smile. Like a foot fungus, Cassian had added, earning himself a playful shove and laughter. He had allowed himself to hope.
He told himself that he didnât know why he cared or why he bothered, but that was a lie. He knew.
He was constantly reaching for the glimpses of the woman he had seen. The woman who didnât balk when her transformed sister and three Fae showed up at her door; the woman who accused him of bewitching her before successfully driving a knee between his legs; the woman who was ferocious in defence of a human world that had done nothing to earn that loyalty; the newly transformed Fae female curled in an armchair reading her smutty romance books, unconscious of the way her face softened as she read; the Emissary who pretended to want nothing to do with him only to snap at him for not saying hello; the female who constantly read his body for injuries; the female who leaned into his touch as she tested her newfound powers; the female who desperately screamed his name in battle, saving him by drawing him nearer to her and out of range of the incoming blast; the female who sobbed and begged him to get up, who covered his body with hers when he could not.
He wanted that person. Heâd do anything for another glimpse.
Cassian blinked away the memories and propped his elbows on the table, lacing his own fingers and resting his chin on them. âI understand.â Her gaze was hard as stone, so he repeated, âI do. But this isnât a prison, and I donât want it to feel like one. We may not be friendsââ
âWe are not friends,â repeated Nesta definitively.
Mother save him, he could feel his temper rising. ââbut that doesnât mean,â Cassian persisted, albeit through gritted teeth, âthat we have to be miserable crammed in the same damn shack for a year and a day. Now, do you want some wine with that stew?â
Nesta nodded, watching him warily as he rose to fetch a bottle and pour them both a glass. Cassian paused before handing her her glass, instructing, âItâs customary in an Illyrian home to speak a word of prayer or well-wishing before drinking. Usually something hopeful.â
Nesta huffed, âYes, a toast. WeâI mean humansâdo it too.â
Cassian frowned, âYou prayed for toast?â
âNo,â said Nesta, exasperated, but the tension had ebbed from her shoulders. âAmong humans, itâs called a toast.â
âOh,â said Cassian, taking his seat again. âGo on, then. Toast me.â
Nesta glared at him, but then a wicked smile overtook her lips as she clinked her glass against his. âTo your good health. You'll need it if you continue to interrupt my reading.â
Cassian leaned in, smirking despite himself, at the first glimmer of the once-human woman who was always ready to go toe to toe with him. âOh, sweetheart,â he murmured in a patronising way he knew would only infuriate her further, âThis isn't my first time living in the same house with you. I'll survive.â
It was Illyrian custom to only raise one's glass, but Cassian gently touched his against hers in what he assumed was the human way. 'May your books be half as diverting as I am.' At her loud scoff of disbelief, Cassian only smiled and drank. It was going to be a good year.
I thought more about respect than worship for Day Six: Reverence â· for @nessianweek. In my opinion, SJM missed the boat in ACOSF by having Cassian take off-page dance lessons with Mor - I get that she wanted him to surprise Nesta but that translates to more quality time with Mor and less time on-page spent dancing with Nesta. Meanwhile, Nesta participated in Cassian's interests throughout the book (whether or not she wanted to is a discussion for another day). She even read books that Cassian liked to read. It didn't feel like a two-way street. I would've liked to have seen Cassian participating in Nesta's interests with Nesta, even if that means being a little irreverent in the process.
The potential submissions in my brain for Day Five: Missing Moments â· for @nessianweek was... a lot, but I will settle for the lack of a proper love confession. (The "There Shall Be No One Else" commandment was simply not enough for me.) Once again, I've put my mini-rewrite under the cut and I have restrained myself to just one.
ââââââ· âââââ
The Rewrite: I combined the Crashing Out Lake Scene and the Nuclear Blasting Briallyn scene. In the lake crash out, Cassian delivered one of the strangest, most bizarre pep talks I've ever read and one that I don't think adequately addressed the heart of what Nesta is going through. "Everyone deserves happiness! So, like, apply that to yourself, yeah?" just doesn't fucking cut it. I also thought Cassian's little knife trick (the fake stabbing himself) also felt dissatisfying. In my rewrite, I let him stab himself. Then, Nesta can fight & kill Briallyn in a Harp + Mask vs Crown boss battle, finds out Cassian has died in that time, and uses the Harp to try again - this time, successfully stopping Briallyn (from killing Cassian) and Cassian (from killing himself). I can't believe SJM didn't fuck around with more wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff when she WROTE THE MECHANISM INTO EXISTENCE IN THIS GODDAMN BOOK. Anyway, picture this: Briallyn is defeated. Cassian is now Not Dead but with no memory of having ever killed himself. Nesta, however, remembers Everything.
ââââââ· âââââ
Cassian felt like he was made of light and he all but beamed at her, opening his arms wide in pride. âHah! You Unmade her!â The light he felt dimmed as Nesta looked at him with wide, sad eyes. He wasn't certain what was supposed to be so shocking. âWhat's wrong, Nes? It's not the first time you've kilââ
âYou died,â she blurted, then heaved a breath, as if a great stone had been removed from her rib cage and she could breathe again.
Cassian patted himself down, found himself very much alive, and frowned. âWhen?â
âWhen Briallyn told you to kill, you stabbed yourself. You died,â she said, more to herself than to him, âAnd I didnât go to you first. I didnât try to save you. All I wanted was death.â
âBut I didnât. You stopped me.â Cassianâs breath caught, and he frowned. That couldnât be right. Nestaâs head had been bare when Briallyn winnowed him to her. Now, it bore the Crown. The Crown that Briallyn had worn when she had winnowed him...
âNot the first time,â whispered Nesta, her voice weak and her breaths shallow once more. âThe first time, you killed yourself, and I didnât go to you. All I could think about was killing her.â She wrung her hands together and repeated, even quieter, âI didn't go to you.â
âThe first time?â Cassian repeated, still working his way through her words before understanding dawned. âThe Harp?â
Nesta swallowed thickly and nodded. And then, without warning, she brought her hands up to hide her face and burst into tears.
Cassian blinked once in shock before allowing his desires to rule him completely. âOh, sweetheart,â he murmured as he gathered her to his chest.
He wondered, running his hand up and down her rigid back, if Nesta remembered how to cry. Even as he held her, Cassian could feel her fighting it. She kept holding her breath until she was forced to inhale a breath that stuttered sometimes twice, sometimes three times. And then sheâd hold her breath again before being forced through desperation to release that breath in a burst. Any noises Nesta made sounded like they were squeezed out of her throat against her will, muffled, high-pitched, and choked.
âIt's okay. I don't blame you. I understand,â Cassian spoke soothingly, even as she moved her hands to clutch at his armour and buried her face into the crook of his neck. âIâm flattered, really. It was very Illyrian of you. Smite first, figure the rest out later.â He moved to hold her face in his hands, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. âThat's what made you so upset? Me, dying?â
She shook her head. âIââ Nesta hiccoughed, before trying again. âWhen it counted most, I- I didnât protect you.â
Cassian shifted so that he could cocoon her in his wings and shrugged, âSo you tried again, and saved me the second time around. I envy you. I've said and done many things to you that I wish I hadn't. I regret hounding you when you told me not to. I regret telling you that I couldnât fathom how your sisters loved you. I felt spurned and low, and I wanted to drag you down with me. It was a cruel thing to say when I knew how I loved you. I threw your Solstice present into the river afterwards. I regret that too. I regret hauling you out of that tavern when all you wanted to do was listen to music. I regret not believing you when you said you were only there for the music. Iâll never get to undo those moments, but the regret shaped me - it made me want to change, to do better next time. You did something you regretted, and then you got to change it and do better the second time around. Is that so bad?â
âY-yes,â came the hiccoughing, stubborn reply. âI could fix that moment, but no matter what I do, I canât fix me.â The thought brought the threat of a fresh wave of tears to her eyes, and she dropped her head to his chest again.
âSweetheart,â said Cassian gently, âThereâs nothing to fix.â
An abrupt, disbelieving laugh burst from her chest. âAll your familyâand my family, tooâwould disagree. You deserve more in life than to be shackled to someone like me.â
He frowned. âYouâve got it all wrong. I want to be shackled to you, Nesta Archeron. You think I donât appreciate that you chose me? To trust? To love? To take to your bed?â
Nesta wiped at her eyes, and grumbled, 'That's the mating bond talking.'
Cassian scoffed. âIt's not. I know you now, Nesta. I couldnât for the life of me figure out what Feyre was thinking when she told me she painted flames for you on your dresser drawer instead of dancing shoes or smutty books or a fucking lute. Itâs because youâre passionate as all hell, and I love your fire. Mother preserve the poor sod who gets between you and someone you care about.â
Though Nesta was no longer crying, she still regarded him pityingly and said after a shuddering inhale, âExcept it didnât save you. It was still my fault you died.â
âYou said I stabbed myself?â
Nesta winced, and nodded.
âThat wasnât your fault. I was given a choice, and I made it. I plunged the dagger. I wanted to die to save you. If anyoneâs at fault, it is Briallyn for kidnapping me and forcing that choice to be made.â
âI could have used my power, I could have triedââ
âYou did use your power, Nesta,â Cassian retorted with some exasperation, âYou went back in time. You got to slaughter Briallyn twice, and Iâm still alive. I don't see the problem.â
A shuddering sigh came from where she had nestled against his chest. âBecause I canât make the thoughts stop. I canât bear to be in my head. Iâve failed everyone Iâve ever loved. I watched my mother wither away and die. My father came to save me, fought for me, and I wasn't able to save him, either. I wasnât able to follow Feyre into Prythian. I couldnât stop Elain from going into the Cauldron. I couldnât save you. I have been so, so horrid to each and every one of you, and I donât deserve⊠I donât deserve that- that love. I donât deserve any of it.â
Cassian held her apart from him, so that she was forced to lift her head and meet his gaze. He frowned, âYou do, though, Nes. I love you, sharp tongue and claws and all. All right, so you think youâve failed everyone. I disagree, but so be it. I still love you. All of you and as you are.â
Nesta blinked owlishly at him, and Cassian cocked his head. Speechless or tired? He certainly felt the latter. Then, her face relaxed, and held less of that care and concern. She bestowed him with one of her small, reluctant smiles that suggested she was smiling against her own wishes. âI love you, Cassian.â
Cassian allowed himself a small chuckle at the confession. âOh, I know. If you didn't, I'd be dead.â Whatever serenity had overtaken Nesta fell from her face as she glared at him. âWhat? Too soon?â
'You're impossible,' Nesta hissed.
'It was quite flattering, being kidnapped,' Cassian noted, feeling a smug smirk overtake his features. 'I plan to rub it in your sisters' faces when we next see them.'
'I want to go home,' demanded Nesta, irritably.
'Now that,' said Cassian, hoisting her up into his arms and stretching his wings, 'sounds more like the Nesta I know and love.'
Nesta huffed, but wrapped her arms around him nonetheless and was silent. Cassian only winked at her. 'Never change, sweetheart.'
I had too many options for Day Four: Alternate Universe â· for @nessianweek. I landed on Dungeons & Dragons.
I made Nesta a High Elf and Cassian an Orc. I chose High Elf for Nesta because it seemed close enough to High Fae. I chose Orc for Cassian because Orcs/Half-Orcs and Illyrians occupy similar spaces* within their respective franchises: both are seen as barbaric, backwards, savage, naturally aggressive, violent, etc. to their very bones.
It doesn't work in the grand scheme of ACOTAR - looks-wise, I should've drawn Cassian as a cambion or fiend of some sort because Rhysand makes more sense to me as fiend-touched (a tiefling?) than a half-orc ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ but I can always save that drawing for a rainy day.
*Editing to add: I don't think that's a good thing. I talked more about that here. What I mean in this post is that my issues with the depiction of Illyrians could very easily be extended to the depiction of orcs/half-orcs in D&D.
I still think that the Hewn City ball scene was tragically short. I also felt that Cassian didn't need to know how to dance Night Court dances (there should be Illyrian ones, for starters) AND shouldn't have jumped in to interrupt. Cassian being forced to just stand there like a guard on duty and watch as Nesta dances with Eris dance after dance after dance? Delicious. Beautiful opportunity for jealousy to eat him and his self-esteem alive (for the ANGST) AND you get to extend a beautiful #Neris moment. I don't know the whole scene, but I wrote out snippets of what I was thinking.
ââââââ· âââââ
âIf looks could kill, heâd be mist by now.â
Cassian swivelled his head at the familiar voice, and his glare found Mor beside him, dressed in her customary brilliant bloody red. Cassian, by no little effort, forced his expression to relax. âHe doesnât deserve her.â It was the most tactful statement about Eris he could make at the moment.
âAnd neither do you.â Cassianâs eyebrows shot up at that, and Mor continued, âLike calls to like. Sheâs a viper; another viper suits her. Let Eris court her, Cassian, you deserve better than a snake in your bed.â
Cassianâs eyes in those few seconds had been drawn back to Nesta as she effortlessly danced, and, if the sway of her hips resembled a snake in their fluid undulation, then Cassian decided he very much desired that particular snake in his bed, venom and all. Mor placed a gentle hand on his forearm to recall his attention to her, âIâm not blind. I know youâve been drawn to her since you laid eyes on her, but youâve always had your pick of lovers in Velaris. Thereâll be others.â
âThere is no other for me.â Mor jerked back as if struck, and she frowned, but Cassian couldnât stop, wouldnât stop. It was the relationship that he and Mor were supposed to haveâonce had, long agoâtruth at all costs no matter how harsh. âThere hasnât been anyone else for two fucking years.â He lowered his voice, still having sense enough that losing his temper with Mor would draw the unwanted attention of Hewn Cityâs nosy courtiers. âSheâs my mate. I thought you of all people would know that.â
Mor slowly removed her hand from his arm, a look of pity crossing her face. âIâm so sorry, Cassian.â
âDonât be,â Cassian snapped, baring his teeth. He didnât need her pity. Or her mortification. Instead, he kept his face stony as Mor drifted back to the dais where Feyre and Rhysand sat overlooking the festivities.
ââââââ· âââââ
Nesta danced three consecutive dances with Eris, and the Hewn court tittered. In each, Eris seduced her, devouring her with his gaze. He showed immeasurable pleasure between dances when he held out his hand and Nesta willingly strutted towards him to accept his offer with an outstretched hand of her own. Cassian suffered through it all, standing sentry, blending in with the beasts carved into the pillar he was leaning against, listening as courtiers gossiped and speculated about the female he couldnât seem to stop watching. What a catch. What a match. What power. A return to the old ways. The Night Court and the Autumn Court allied through an advantageous union. How they loved a good wedding. They hoped there would be at least one murder. And as the hours passed agonisingly slowly for Cassian, and as social propriety demanded that Nesta take other lords and ladies for dance partners, their words seemed to slowly sink their poisoned claws into his mind and aching heart.
They⊠they were right.
The mating bond was no guarantee of happiness, no true promise that the mated couple were well suited or deserving of one another. Rhysâ parentsâ miserable relationship was testament to that. Cassian understood, then. He had wanted so desperately to be loved by her that he had been blinded by their reality. Nesta didnât belong in Illyria with him. She practically glowed in a grand ballroom, surrounded by admirers all wound tightly around her little finger.
Nestaâs mother might have been cruel and ruthless, but she was right in this one thing: Nesta was deserving of kings and princes. Not some nobody. Not some bastard born in a tent in the dead of winter. Not when all he could offer her was a pitiful cottage on a brutal mountain and a promise of war and bloodshed because that was all he was good for. Maybe this was what Mor meant. Maybe she hadnât been insulting Nesta, maybe she had just been trying to protect him, and he couldnât see it.
ââââââ· âââââ
âCassian.â
He paused in the corridor, turning to see Nesta framed in the archway. She marched forward until she was right in front of him, and in the dim light he could make out the glint of her eyes. Ah, heâd managed to anger her without even being present. That was new.
âHow, exactly,â she sniped, âdo you plan on being my bodyguard when you canât even see me?â
âI donât. Azriel is taking over from here,â he said, more gruffly than he intended. âYou were right from the start. He is the better one for the job.â
A blink was the only sign of shock and disappointment, but Cassian had learned to read quickly in his time with Nesta, and his voice cracked as he answered the question she hadnât put into words, âI canât, Nes.â Her face settled into her usual look of aristocratic displeasure - all pursed lips, narrowed eyes, and that little frown he had come to adore.
âI just canât,â he repeated, before whatever small fracture within him splintered further, and Cassian spoke his mind fully, casting away what scraps of pride he thought heâd be able to keep for himself. âI canât bear to watch you in there. And with him. Itâs agony. Heâhe suits you.â
Nestaâs glare glittered like diamonds, cold but beautiful, crystalline but sharp as a knife. She took a breath and Cassian knew she was going to gut him with whatever words she had at the ready. Well, he would beat her to it.
Before she could utter a word, he continued, counting on his fingers, âEris is very likely going to inherit his fatherâs power and become the next High Lord of Autumn. Youâll live in complete comfort in the Autumn Courtâs sizeable palace, and he is rich enough to have hosts of troubadours accompany you wherever you go. He can sing and danceâand heâs won more smiles from you in minutes than I have in monthsâandââ Cassian at this point had run out of complimentary things to say about Eris, so he said rather desperately, âHe has a surname, Nesta.â
He couldnât read her true feelings behind her usual thin-lipped expression, so he stepped closer as if proximity to her would give him a window into her thoughts. âI donât even know if my name is my own. Do you know what âCassianâ means in Illyrian? The root word means âempty, hollow, lacking, useless, pointlessâ. I may not have truly known my mother, but I know she loved me. She wouldnât have given me that name. So I have no name; no clan outside of your sisters, Rhysand, Azriel, Mor, and Amren; no palace or musicians to lay at your feet; no talent for anything outside of battle. Iâm not the handsome prince from your books.â He jerked his chin back in the direction of the ballroom, âEris is.â
Nesta stepped forward, no sign of tenderness or pity on her face, just a slight tilt of her head in that cold unceasing appraisal of him. âItâs true. We are an unlikely match. Had she lived, my mother would have never chosen someone like you for me.â She brought her hands to his face, thumbs pressing in on his cheekbones as Cassian dropped his chin to keep her gaze. âBut sheâs dead. And I want only you.â Then, Nesta kissed him, and Cassianâs mind echoed only for that last part:
