A/N: Sup folks! I apologise for my complete lack of schedule for posting but, as I promised @perseusannabeth , here we have Part Three! Delivered on Saturday, the last day of my self imposed deadline lol
Our dear boy Cass is back, so grab some popcorn and enjoy the show!
In which she makes a friend, Part Three
Two months and two weeks.
Cassian had been away from Windhaven for seventy-five days.
Seventy fives days spent going to each of the fifty war camps, overseeing the trainings – specially the female’s — and trying to cease the fire that seemed to be leading to the first Illyrian civil war since the Night Court’s High Lord had taken control of the land.
He was tired. Both physically and mentally. His wings seemed to weight ten times more, and he couldn’t help but think of the female he had left alone in his secluded cabin.
He had not wanted to leave.
He should have written to her.
Should have tried to ask her to go with him.
He remembered Feyre saying in passing how Nesta once wished to go and sail the world. But that was a long time ago. When she had been human. When she had not suffered the horrors of the war.
Cassian was not concerned about her safety. He had wards on his house, wards that made it impossible to anyone deemed dangerous or suspicious to get inside. Specially other males apart from him and his brothers. Although Cassian didn’t think that Nesta would try and take anyone to his house. He had made sure to scare the fuck out of every male in camp once Nesta and him had arrived at Windhaven. They knew to not get close to her.
Nesta going to their houses seemed as much unlikely. She had not left her room since they’d arrived. He doubted she’d do so after he had gone away.
No, Cassian was concerned about her health.
In the first month, Cassian had taken upon himself the task of helping Nesta go through her detoxification. Not that she had wanted his help at all.
It had not been pretty. It was not an easy process. Cassian knew it. That was why he had been so concerned when she’d locked herself in her room and went through the pain all alone.
He had stayed awake, listening to her empty her guts day and night, unable to comfort her. To hold her hair back from her face. He’d leave water and food outside her door, the best he’d offer given the situation.
She usually took all the water. She left most of the food.
In the last week of her detoxification, the worst phase, he stood in front of his closed door all through the week, awake. Just waiting for a sound that would have him throwing the door open and running to her room, her anger at him be dammed.
She didn’t call for him. Or for anyone. She stayed unusually quiet.
Cassian died a thousand deaths during that time. He had been so afraid he had dared to open his door and almost knocked on hers. But he heard her breathing.
She was sleeping so quietly that only Fae ears would have been able to hear her.
That night, he stayed outside her door. And when he heard her wake up on the next day, he quickly went to the kitchen.
Acted as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t prayed all night for her well being, his stomach filled with dread.
He left food for her and went to oversee the morning training.
The males were smart not to provoke him that day.
And so their relationship stayed that way, Cassian trying to give her space. Waiting for her to talk to him. Or scream at him. Even hit him.
She did no such thing. Stayed practically all day in her room. In good days, Cassian would see her sitting in the stone bench outside his house when he came back. Those days were rarer then he liked.
And then he left. For two months.
She did not leave his mind not even for a second of those seventy-five days.
Landing outside his house, Cassian took a deep breath, bracing himself for what awaited him.
He entered the house, silence being his only greeting. He was not surprised. He had left Ironcrest as the sun was raising, eager to return home, and Nesta was not one to wake up early.
Cassian had stayed at Ironcrest for longer than the other camps, given how that prick Kallon was raising distress among the Illyrians.
He hoped Kallon met his demise at the Blood Rite that year.
But something was amiss in his house. Cassian spotted a duffel bag beside the sofa, which had a pillow and a blanket neatly folded on it. And there was a new scent, one which was not Nesta’s. His heart started to beat faster, his mind running the possibilities. Had the wards became weaker somehow? Had someone gotten inside his home? Or was this some arrangement Nesta had made? Was she planning to leave?
Dumping his things in the hall, Cassian practically ran towards her room, and after knocking and receiving no answer whatsoever — not even a low curse — he opened the door to find the room empty. The bed was made, and Nesta’s scent was still there, which calmed him a little bit. But where the Mother was she?
Closing the door, he strained his ears to listen to something, anything that would tell him that she still was in the house. And then he heard it, a voice coming from outside, very faintly.
He went to the kitchen and opened a side door that connected to an outdoor patio behind his house, which he used for training when he wanted to let off some steam instead of sparring with the other Illyrians.
The scene which Cassian was now seeing made him believe he had fallen sleep and was dreaming, for Nesta and an Illyrian kid were outside, doing what appeared to be some sort of training.
There were four tree stumps positioned to form a big square, in which Nesta was standing inside while the young Illyrian stayed airborne.
“FOUR!” the kid shouted, and flew towards what Cassian guessed was the stump marked as number four, Nesta running towards the same stump. She had just come close to it when another number was shouted, both the kid and Nesta moving towards the new spot.
And Cassian realised, after the initial shock of seeing Nesta outside, of seeing her filled with energy, that the young Illyrian was training Nesta. The exercise in question was one of the first the small Illyrians learned once they started training, to both create a sense of direction and balance while flying and having to suddenly change positions, and to start building their stamina.
He could not believe that somehow Nesta had started training, that she was wearing the Illyrian leathers he left for her among her other clothes. He had done it out of hope that she’d warm up to the ideia of training, to help her manage her powers, to help her learn how to defend herself, so she never found herself in a situation similar to the one with Hybern or his twin spies, all that time ago in Velaris’ library.
The leathers were a little big on her, and she still looked like she should eat at least five full banquets, but something had changed in the time he had been away.
Cassian was afraid to move. Was afraid to even breath. He remained frozen, and kept staring and staring at the female in front of him. A female that two months ago was a shell of her previous self, but that now had a little spark of life back in her eyes. A reminder of the untameable fire she once held.
The word — Commander in Illyrian — caught Cassian’s attention, and he came back to reality to find Nesta looking at him, unmoving, whereas the kid was back on the ground, one fist across its chest, wings tucked and head bowed down.
A soldier, greeting the Commander. A soldier, waiting for orders.
“Küroch” Cassian said, and the young boy raised his head, taking a relaxed attitude, with his feet apart and hands behind his back.
“Kaelin, you should go” Nesta’s voice broke the awkward silence that had fallen among them, and Cassian eyed their interaction with interest.
“No buts. You have training in an hour right? You may go”
Kaelin’s eyes darted to Cassian, and the boy hesitated a fraction before muttering a quick goodbye and launching to the skies.
Leaving Cassian and Nesta alone.
“Did you miss me sweetheart?” Cassian teased, hoping to ease some of the tension in the air.
Nesta had gone back inside as soon as Kaelin had left, not bothering to give Cassian a single glance. He had obviously followed her inside, and now eyed her from the kitchen door as she gulped down a glass of water.
“Did you feel so alone that you got yourself a roommate?” he said, pushing her, wanting to get some reaction.
But it seemed the wrong thing to say, for Nesta stiffened and became a pillar of ice and steel he had not seen since the war.
“If Kaelin goes, so do I” she said, fire burning in her eyes “Do not blame me for taking him in and not consulting you when I thought you’d left for good. Two months. For two months you didn’t—”
She stopped herself, and Cassian was reminded of another conversation like this.
“The next time, Emissary, I’ll come say hello”
Another broken promise. Another failure to add to his ever growing pile of mistakes.
“No one is going anywhere” he quietly added, trying to bury those memories again “But I’d like to know the reason why he’s here”
“He’s an orphan. He’s a thirteen year old kid who has nothing and no one to take care of him. And who’s left to live in some piss poor tent in the mud while the weather is as cold as Death’s kiss.”
“I lived like that too” Cassian said, reminding those cold and harsh days before Rhysand’s mother took him in, before he knew what it felt like to sleep on a bed, to have a warm meal and hot bath.
“Does it make it right then?” Nesta snapped, and the way she seemed to care for Kaelin made him think that maybe he’d judged her wrong.
She had pleaded for both humans and children’s lives back at the High Lord’s reunion. Had passionately demanded for them to stop being selfish and save them.
How could he have ever thought that she’d let Feyre go hunting as a fourteen year old and say nothing? Do nothing but just twiddle her thumbs while her youngest sister risked her life? With each passing day, Cassian found himself being more and more drawn to the interesting persona that was Nesta Archeron.
“No. No it doesn’t” his voice softened, and he decided to try and be a little less of an asshole “He stays. For as long he wants”
Cassian thought he saw Nesta almost sigh in relief and got even more curious about their relationship.
“How—” he cleared his throat, hoping to find a neutral topic “You are training”
“I figured that if I was to stay here for Mother knows how long I’d better find something to kill time with” she snorted “It’s not like there’s a library here”
“I can— I can ask for books to be delivered here” he gave her what he hoped was a teasing smirk instead of a grimace “I’m sorry my small private collection was not enough stimulation”
Cassian was tripping over his words, he knew that. He thought he must sound pathetic, but he had gotten Nesta to talk, and if his two months away had taught him something it was that he was done keeping his distance.
Nesta only shrugged, in thanks or dismissal he didn’t know, and walked past him to leave the kitchen. Probably to take a bath and get rid of those leathers.
“Stay” he grabbed her fingers, softly, just to hold her back.
She turned her face to look at him, their proximity and the meaning of his words making Cassian drop her hand and place some space between them.
“Have breakfast with me” he quickly added “You should always eat after exercise to regain the lost energy, and breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
He waited for a heartbeat. Two.
“I mean, I don’t know about you but I’m starving. I left Ironcrest too early and didn’t eat and—“
Gods, he sounded like a green boy talking with a girl for their first time.
“I’ll keep you company” Nesta cut his blabbering short, and sat in the kitchen chair, the ever picture of the mighty queen she was.
Cassian almost jumped with joy. Almost. Because she said she’d keep him company, not that she’d eat with him. And she needed to, desperately so.
Washing his hands and typing his hair back, he went through his cabinets and gathered lots of different ingredients. Nesta stayed silent while he cooked, and when he placed the food on the table — also giving her a plate — she only raised an eyebrow in question.
“This is Imu Yanisa Kiyauriri” he said, gesturing to the dish in front of her “It’s a traditional Illyrian dish. Kind like the human for porridge, but better.”
He didn’t wait for Nesta to start eating, but secretly eyed her as he ate.
“It tastes better hot” he tentatively said, silently willing her to grab the spoon and eat.
He cheered internally when she did, and swore he heard a silent moan of pleasure when she swallowed it. Imu Yanisa Kiyauriri was a dish know for its high energy potencial, and consisted of milk, water, sugar and mbe'yu, a type of wheat that the Illyrians grew. It was a simple dish to make, and was the first Cassian had ever learned to cook. He had faint memories of his mother feeding him Imu Yanisa Kiyauriri, and had almost begged Rhysand’s mother to teach him how to make it, if only to get closer to his mother one way or another.
Cassian had also cooked eggs, bacon, made some toast and brewed coffee. He left it all on the table, and didn’t force Nesta to take it. He would have to take small steps to help her. He could only offer her the possibilities and pray she would take them.
But as he sipped his coffee — the hot drink warming his tired body — he thought that maybe the new occupant of the house would turn out to be a very precious ally.
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