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We did it! One post for each day of Nessian Week! Until next year!
For @nessianweek Day 7: Free Day
Read here on AO3
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The chair scraped against the stone as he stood.
"Everyone hates you! And you know something –"
As he said the words, a bellow that echoed off the walls, Cassian took a step forward, towards her, as if he was unable to resist pulling in her direction, when they fought like this.
But she didn't meet him halfway, as she had in the past.
No, instead, when his body moved, Nesta flinched.
Flinched so violently that she yielded two steps back, her body stumbling over the chair behind her, the silverware rattling with the force of it.
happy last day of @nessianweek everyone! it's been so fun watching everyone participate and I knew I had to get this chapter finished in time for free day<3 hope you all enjoy!
Chapter Summary: Third time's the charm.
Word Count: 7.5k
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
“Nesta looked at the king with death twining around his hands, then down at Cassian. And covered Cassian’s body with her own. Cassian went still - then his hand slid over her back. Together. They’d go together.” - A Court of War and Ruin, Sarah J. Maas
Love exists in many ways, in many times. Sometimes it shines brightest in the darkness. “We’ll Go Together” explores Cassian’s job as a general of the Illyrian army and the devastating toll it takes on him. After losing an entire squad on a mission, he must inform the families their loved ones are never coming home. It brings back memories of the Battle of Hybern, and all that lost time. But Nesta feels his pain through the bond, and she won’t let him do this alone. Not anymore.
So happy to have been able to get the first chapter of this two-part fic written in time for @nessianweek! Please mind the tags. Thank you to @climbthemountain2020, @kale-theteaqueen, and @xxvalkyriesxx for checking over this fic and keeping me motivated! Sneak a snippet of the fic below, or read the full piece on AO3.
Wind howled past the windows of Cassian’s cabin in Windhaven and Nesta pulled her feet tighter beneath her, looking up from her book to see if there was another blanket within reach. It was the first quiet day she’d had in several weeks, and the last thing she wanted to do was have to walk barefooted across the chilled wooden boards for more warmth.
She sighed, burrowing deeper into the plush cushions behind her. When they’d moved to Illyria after their mating ceremony, Cassian had picked this chaise specifically for her to read in. She’d needed distance from the House of Wind and their family in Velaris — time to think and come to terms with her grief and trauma, and how her family had “handled it”. When she was in Illyria, she didn’t have to worry about where she fit within the “Court of Dreams.”
With fond exasperation, she remembered exactly what Cassian had said when he’d brought the chaise home. “I’ve watched you try and read in the chairs, your posture is horrible. Hopefully this helps. I’m the only one who gets to throw your back out.” He’d walked away with a sultry wink, and Nesta had sighed out so harshly it’d blown out the candle beside her.
Finish the fic on AO3.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/5
Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Cassian
“Ok then how about a friendly challenge. If I win you tell me your name.” He turned that boyish smile back up at her. Even sitting down he came up to her stomach. A man that large should not be able to smile like a schoolboy sneaking out of lessons to pull at a shop girls braids.
“And what could you possibly have that I would want.” Despite herself and the many chores that she would still need to tend to once the laundry was wash Nesta took the seat across from him.
“I’ll give you my name.”
Running a single finger over the king carved from a darker wood then his pieces Nesta admired the craftmanship. Wondered if he had killed the sets previous owner. “Pass.”
—
Instead of being trapped in Velaris for the last 50 years Cassian was in the human lands when Amarantha struck. Leaving him stranded below the wall. To survive he takes up work as a mercenary and meets an angry/interesting human woman.
Tag list: @nessianweek @ladyefoxy (Let me know if you would like to be added)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
For the final day of @nessianweek, enjoy everyone's favorite hyper specific fic.
Teaser:
“Nothing,” Cassian did a horrible job hiding his amused grin. “You just look so … cute.”
Nesta felt her lips turn down. She stared him down like a hawk considering whether to peck out the eyes of its prey.
“I look like a mess. Every inch of me is covered in dust, my skin hasn’t been this broken out since college, I have to wear these things,” she gestured vaguely to the not at all flattering wire-framed glasses on her nose, “because the dust is causing havoc with my contact lenses and my hair is in a tangle. Yes, that’s right. A tangle. Singular. It has all converged into one big matted uniknot back there and I don’t even want to look at it.”
He was smirking at her.
And that’s when Nesta noticed something truly unforgivable..
Woop woop! Nessian week has been a blast as both a writer and reader!! This post is for the last day of @nessianweek Day Seven: free day and it's also the last chapter of this vampire shortfic. I tag all of my works with Waterparks songs which is usually just for my own amusement, but I really recommend you listen to this one to get the full experience for this fic.
It's day 7 of Nessian week which means I can choose any topic I want
So I start with Song Themes
Nesta and Cassian's song themes
There are many songs that remind me of Nesta ana Cassian and their beautiful and iconic love story but lately I have been obsessed with LADY GAGA'S - HOLD MY HAND
Here are the lyrics and video of HOLD MY HAND
Tell me you need me
Hold my hand, everything will be okay
I heard from the heavens that clouds have been grey
Pull me close, wrap me in your aching arms
I see that you're hurtin', why'd you take so long
To tell me you need me? I see that you're bleeding
You don't need to show me again
But if you decide to, I'll ride in this life with you
I won't let go 'til the end
So cry tonight
But don't you let go of my hand
You can cry every last tear
I won't leave 'til I understand
Promise me, just hold my hand
Raise your head, look into my wishful eyes
That fear that's inside you will lift, give it time
I can see everything you're blind to now
Your prayers will be answered, let God whisper how
To tell me you need me, I see that you're bleeding
You don't need to show me again
But if you decide to, I'll ride in this life with you
A/N: I hope everyone had an amazing @nessianweek! It's been so great seeing all the amazing art and fics everyone has shared! Hopefully, I'm going out with a bang, with the long awaited ✨realization✨
Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part
Cassian
"Will you quit it?"
Of course, Emerie doesn't stop. If anything, his words only seem to spur her on. With a smirk tugging up her lips, she continues to tug at Cassian's collar, continues to mess with the strands of his hair so they fall a certain way. Cassian smacks at her hand, trying to knock it away, but she merely smacks him right back. Soon, it turns into a playful fight of smacking hands and teasing shoves, Emerie even daring to shove her hand fully into Cassian's face, snapping his head back.
"If you two have finished…" Cresseida announces, stepping into the room.
"Just trying to keep our dear alpha humble," Emerie offers, patting Cassian's cheek, harder than necessary in his opinion.
"Oh, I'm already way ahead on that."
The smirk on Cresseida's face as she says the words has Cassian frowning, has niggling worry blooming in the back of his mind. Nothing good can come from that expression, especially when Cresseida and Emerie share some sort of knowing look between the two of them. Cassian opens his mouth, ready to demand exactly what his second and her wife are colluding about and planning, but before he can, his attention is drawn away.
Drawn toward Nesta.
She steps into the room, and for a moment, Cassian feels like he can't breathe, feels everyone else and the entire room melt away until there is only her. There's no other way to describe the dress Cresseida has designed for her, no other way to describe the woman before him, than beautiful.
Continue Reading on AO3
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2025 tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed; bolded names mean Tumblr won’t let me tag you 🥲): @moodymelanist @sv0430 @bookstantrash @hiimheresworld @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @glowing-stick-generation @goddess-aelin @melphss @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @wolfnesta @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @that-little-red-head @kale-theteaqueen @superflurry @lady-winter-sunrise @freakingata @susanbanarchy @jsmelodies @unhealthyfanobsession @presskmewleroux @nativeswfl @livinforthetea @dying-of-wanderlust @berkskc @the-new-ribbon @underneath-the-sidras @deadandsane
Converted a WIP into a submission for Day Seven: Free Day ✷ 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.)
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Cassian took a deep breath, and knocked on the bedroom door.
‘What do you want?’ came Nesta’s muffled voice from behind the door. Her irritation, on the other hand, came through the thick wooden door quite clearly.
Cassian cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry. About earlier.’ He looked up at his ceiling in a silent prayer for strength and fortitude before continuing, ‘You’re my guest, and I was breaking about twelve rules of Illyrian hospitality. While you’re here, I’ll take care of you. That includes meals. I’ve made stew if you’re hungry.’
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, ‘What kind of stew?’
He shrugged, ‘Venison and root vegetables. With fresh bread and butter.’ He felt a blush coming on, an inkling of shame and embarrassment, and he looked down at the stew with her. ‘You won’t 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.’
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, cow’s milk and cheeses. He had stocked up on it all.
‘Go on,’ Cassian gently encouraged. Nesta hadn’t yet taken the food from his hand, but was watching him suspiciously. ‘I haven’t poisoned it. It’s not magicked. It’s perfectly safe to eat. You might even like it.’
She rolled her eyes and accepted the plate. ‘Thank you.’ 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 wasn’t 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.
‘What?’
‘Why don’t you come out and eat dinner with me? I have a table and everything.’
‘No thank you.’
‘You can’t possibly think to stay in that room all winter, Nesta. You’ll drive yourself crazy.’
‘I’ll manage.’
‘Listen, I’ll make a deal with you. Eat with me at the table, and I won’t 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. It’s been a long one. We’re hosting some games among the war bands this year late in the summer, and I don’t think Devlon or his soldiers are really ready for—’
The door opened, fully this time, and an irate Nesta was on the other side of it. Cassian didn’t 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.
‘Fetch. A. Book,’ she commanded in a firm staccato, as if he had trouble hearing.
Cassian smirked and jerked his head towards the kitchen. ‘Take a seat, and I’ll see what I can find.’
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.
‘I thought we had a deal.’
‘We did,’ Cassian admitted airily. ‘How do you like the stew?’
‘Passable.’ It’s 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. ‘I 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.’
Cassian felt stunned into silence, momentarily transported to a cold winter’s 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 couldn’t 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, hadn’t 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 didn’t 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 didn’t 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. He’d 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. ‘I understand.’ Her gaze was hard as stone, so he repeated, ‘I do. But this isn’t a prison, and I don’t want it to feel like one. We may not be friends—’
‘We are not friends,’ repeated Nesta definitively.
Mother save him, he could feel his temper rising. ‘—but that doesn’t mean,’ Cassian persisted, albeit through gritted teeth, ‘that 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?’
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, ‘It’s customary in an Illyrian home to speak a word of prayer or well-wishing before drinking. Usually something hopeful.’
Nesta huffed, ‘Yes, a toast. We—I mean humans—do it too.’
Cassian frowned, ‘You prayed for toast?’
‘No,’ said Nesta, exasperated, but the tension had ebbed from her shoulders. ‘Among humans, it’s called a toast.’
‘Oh,’ said Cassian, taking his seat again. ‘Go on, then. Toast me.’
Nesta glared at him, but then a wicked smile overtook her lips as she clinked her glass against his. ‘To your good health. You'll need it if you continue to interrupt my reading.’
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. ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ he murmured in a patronising way he knew would only infuriate her further, ‘This isn't my first time living in the same house with you. I'll survive.’
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.
Welcome one and all to another update to this absolutely fluffy fic! I apologize that's been a very long time since the last update, but I'm hoping to finish it in the upcoming weeks <3
Enjoy!
Nessian Week - Day 7 - Free Day
@nessianweek
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