At the sound of Mor’s voice, Cassian snatched his hand back and pivoted.
…Cassian looked over his shoulder, flicking his eyes up to her for a moment. "Just a sprain. Will be back to normal tomorrow, now." He showed off the wrapped arm as if it were proof, his other hand continuing to hold Nesta's.
Warnings: Possessive Beahvior | Word Count: 585 | Read on AO3
Nessian Masterlist
Author's Notes: So...I mentioned once doing a scene re-write of one of the worst scenes in all of ACOTAR. Yes, you know which one. The offensive, horrendous hand-let-go.
In case it isn't clear, the italics are all pulled directly from ACOWAR (all credit to SJM, or whatever you want to give her for this 👀), the cross-outs are the part of the scene I "removed" and "replaced".
And when she’d tied it neatly, his wrist wrapped in white, when Nesta made to pull back, Cassian gripped her fingers in his good hand. She lifted her gaze to his. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely.
Nesta did not yank her hand away.
Did not open her mouth for some barbed retort.
She only stared and stared at him, at the breadth of his shoulders, even more powerful in that beautiful black armor, at the strong column of his tan neck above it, his wings. And then at his hazel eyes, still riveted to her face.
Cassian brushed a thumb down the back of her hand.
Nesta opened her mouth at last, and I braced myself—
“You’re hurt?”
At the sound of Mor’s voice, Cassian snatched his hand back and pivoted.
Nesta dragged her stare from his face—down to her now-empty hand, her fingers still curled as if his palm lay there. Cassian didn’t look at Nesta as she rose, snatching up the pitcher, and muttered something about getting more water from inside the tent.
…Cassian looked over his shoulder, flicking his eyes up to her for a moment. "Just a sprain. Will be back to normal tomorrow, now." He showed off the wrapped arm as if it were proof, his other hand continuing to hold Nesta's.
His gaze fell back to Nesta, as if she were its home, the place his eyes belonged and would always find their way back to.
The move had Mor studying the pair closely, her eyes landing on the linked hands. Her lips pulled tight against her mouth, something building in her stare that had me feeling the need to speak up.
"Mor, come sit with me." I tapped the empty space on other side of the log as Rhys. "We're just cutting up extra bandages."
"Is that what you were doing?" she asked in a cold voice as she took the seat, her stare now fixed on Nesta, who actually seemed to retreat slightly from it.
I'd never seen her do something like that. To be so…tentative. Unsure.
I didn't like it.
Thankfully, I wasn't the only one to notice.
"And thank goodness they were," Cassian offered. I couldn't help but notice the muscles in his good arm tense slightly as he squeezed Nesta's hands, still holding his like a lifeline. "Meant she had one to spare for me."
"You weren't even going to acknowledge it," Nesta mumbled, her voice low enough I wouldn't have heard her were I still human.
It drew a laugh from Rhys. "He's not the brightest star in our sky."
"At least I'm a star," Cassian shot back, grinning playfully at his brother.
The two tried to keep the conversation to light banter, but it didn't ease the tension. Mor couldn't stop looking between Cassian and Nesta, to Nesta's lap, as if their hands were one of the most offensive sights she'd seen.
Nesta squirmed beneath the stare. "I should probably-"
She attempted to stand but was cut off by Cassian gripping her tighter, holding her there.
"Stay," he breathed, soft and pleading. "You need to eat, too."
I doubted she'd ever been as wide-eyed as when she looked at Cassian in that moment. When she nodded.
Cassian gave her a gentle smile that felt so intimate I looked away. I found Rhys's eyes already staring at me and grounded myself in them before I did something stupid like jump into Nesta's mind just to find out what she was thinking.
Author's Notes: I wrote this drabble a while ago, it was odd to write from Feyre's perspective, and first person, but it felt fitting to do so. I kept the scene fairly short, since they wouldn't spend that much time focused on Nessian (the fools), and planned on doing more later that day and the next day - scenes from Nesta's perspective. Scenes that may have happened had it all gone down more like this.
However, I don't see that happening any time soon, and I've had so little time to write recently (and the time I do have is now split between fan fiction and my original idea) that even my other WIPs are super slow going. So I thought I'd just share this, maybe give us some serotonin, a small fix we all wished wasn't necessary. Hope you enjoy!
Later that night, after tending to the wounded, Nesta finds herself going to check on Cassian and his wrist. Or, at least, that's what she tells herself.
Warnings: It gets soft. | Word Count: 3,667 | Nessian Masterlist
Part 1 | Read on AO3
a/n: Well, I wasn't going to update so soon, but people got me on a bit of a Mor rampage, and this is how I calm myself.
A faelight was on in his tent.
Not that Nesta was looking.
No, she just happened to be passing by his tent as she walked toward her own. The two weren't particularly far apart.
She definitely wasn't looking. The first time.
The second time…she didn't really have an explanation for that.
It was late. Extremely so. Nesta was sure they were closer to sunrise than they were to when the sun had set. But she couldn't sleep.
She'd made it back to her tent after noticing the light in Cassian's. Managed to rinse off her body with a damp cloth and change into her nightgown.
But Nesta never made it to her bed.
Instead, she pulled on her cloak and slid into her boots. She made sure Elain was still sleeping and then slipped back out the tent. She didn't consciously know where she was going, and yet she did.
She found herself walking back toward Cassian's tent, not a thought in her brain to tell her why. She didn't need it. Something within her glowed with knowledge and anticipation. Her heartbeat picked up when she laid eyes on the tent and found it still lit.
Her pace slowed the closer she got, her breathing deepening. What was she doing? What was she planning? She couldn't exactly knock on the cloth flap. Would she just say 'knock knock'? Gods, how pathetic would that sound?
She could say 'hello', add a lilt to make it sound like a question, and wait to see if he comes. Or, maybe she should try to peek her head in? But what if he was…
Nesta felt a pit in her throat as she gulped. Her entire body began to quiver.
She was only a few feet away from the flap of the tent when it opened and a horrifically perfect, golden head walked through it.
Freezing in place, Nesta's eyes widened as they met solid brown.
"What are you doing here?" Mor asked, her tone accusatory. It had Nesta's body stiffening, her arms crossing over her chest as she lifted her chin. She was done being intimidated by this female. She had nothing to be ashamed of, at least not in regards to Mor. No reason to cower before her. She was just as good as some High Fae bitch whose special power was truth. Whatever that meant.
"I was taking a walk. Saw the light, thought I'd check on Cassian. His arm," Nesta replied. Her voice was strong, sure, and she frosted it with a hint of ice for good measure.
Mor raised a sharp brow at her. "At this hour, after the night we had? Shouldn't you be asleep?"
"I could say the same to you." Nesta wouldn't waver, wouldn't step down. Not tonight. She'd spent just as much time as Mor that night tending to the injured; bandaging limbs, treating wounds, listening to hundreds of recounts of the battle.
Hearing Cassian's name on every Illyrian's lips. The story of how he all but won the battle single-handedly.
Nesta heard every word. She tried to look like she wasn't listening. Like it didn't make a difference to her if he was a god reincarnate or just a lucky bastard. And, in reality, it didn't. She'd listen either way.
She saw how the younger soldiers admired him, wanted to be him, tried to claim they helped him in some way. And she noticed how some of the older ones, the camp lords, grumbled about him being a show-off. Right before they'd flinch from Nesta getting too close. She couldn't help but smirk at those reactions.
"I was checking in on my friend." Mor took a step toward Nesta. "You should go back to your tent. Cassian needs to sleep."
Nesta felt her teeth begin to grind. Her hands in the crook of her elbows balled into fists as something roared within her, like a wildfire in a dry wood. She didn't know why, didn't know what it was taking over her body, sending her reeling.
All she knew was that Cassian wasn't Mor's to claim. And the idea that this bitch would even try had a growl forming in her gut she barely managed to clamp down.
Before she could say anything, a large figure appeared at the entrance to the tent. "I think Cassian can decide that for himself," he said, his voice low.
She looked up and met those hazel eyes. Assessing yet, somehow, warm as they watched her, held her gaze. Nesta didn't look away. Didn't stand down or shrink as he stared. She just stared back, something growing between them she could sense, but couldn't identify.
Her breathing grew rapid, her heartbeat increasing with every second they continued to stare at each other.
Cassian's lips twitched up and to the right. "Nesta." He stepped to the side and lifted the flap for her, an unspoken invitation.
Their eyes remained linked as she walked, his hazel glowing in the soft faelight of his tent. She didn't remember making the decision to accept the invitation, but she couldn't stop herself.
She stepped through the flap beneath his arm, entering the tent and sighing at the warmth. Nesta was still tentative about a lot of magic, but she definitely didn't mind it being used this way. Nor did she mind the scent that completely engulfed her. It was like a dwindling fire in a snowy field.
Pivoting, her body hidden behind Cassian, she lifted herself onto her toes to look over his shoulder. Mor was staring at Cassian with clear confusion.
"Mor," he sighed. The blonde took a step forward, but paused in disbelief when he added, "I'll see you tomorrow."
Nesta wished she could paint like Feyre. Capture that face, that look of shock and something like horror, and a brief flash of rejection. She probably shouldn't have been celebrating being the cause of that.
Then again, what right did Mor have to feel any of those things?
Cassian came back into the tent and sealed the flaps shut before turning to face Nesta.
She jerked backward, realizing just how close she was standing to him, and stumbled, only finding balance because Cassian snaked his arm around her back to hold her up.
Their gazes met again and they were both still for a moment, breathing in harmony, their chests brushing each other. But then Cassian straightened, helping Nesta find her footing.
He kept his arm around her, and for a moment Nesta felt content and safe, as if there was nothing to worry about in the whole world. No war, no evil king, no meddling friends. Just her and Cassian.
Cassian.
Whose arm she'd bandaged that evening.
She jumped from him. "Your wrist!"
"Other arm, Nes," he chuckled, waving the bandaged left wrist in front of her.
"Oh. Right." Nesta felt her cheeks heat slightly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She held one arm at the elbow with the other hand, rubbing the hand up and down slightly for something to do. But she didn't know where to look or what to say, standing there in Cassian's tent.
Alone with him. In the middle of the night.
It went against everything she was taught, every rule of society she was accustomed to. But she didn't want to leave. Not yet.
Nesta waited for Cassian to say something…anything. He just stared at her. She wasn't looking, but she could feel his gaze, his entire being focused on her, watching her every twitch.
"So, um…how is your arm?" she finally asked, lifting her eyes back to his.
He let out a soft chuckle that sounded far too much like music than any laugh should. "Feels great! I'm pretty sure the swelling's gone down. No doubt, it'll be good as new by tomorrow."
She responded with a small nod as she mentally cursed herself for her idiocy. Of course it was doing fine, it was a small sprain on a Fae.
"Good." She sighed softly. "Then I guess I-"
"Do you want to take a look, anyway?" Cassian blurted out quickly, as if he was in a race to ensure he asked the full question before Nesta finished her sentence. "You are, technically, my healer."
He flashed her a grin and Nesta gently narrowed her eyes. "I'm not a healer." He simply shrugged. "But sure."
His smile grew impossibly wider. Cassian took her hand in his right and led her to his cot. They sat beside each other as they had on the log earlier, their bodies slightly turned toward the other, their knees grazing.
Cassian held out his wrist for Nesta. She took it gently in her hands and began to unwrap the bandage, trying to ignore the spark she felt each time her skin brushed his.
He was right. The swelling had gone down. His wrist was completely back to its normal size, but it was still slightly purple. And when she poked it he hissed just as he had before. He tried to bite down on it, but even if he'd succeeded she would've felt the way he tensed beneath her touch.
"Don't move," she ordered, letting go of his arm and standing.
Nesta could feel his eyes following her as she made her way across the tent. She found the bucket of water she was looking for and brought it back over along with a clean cloth. Cassian's stare never left her. And her heart never stopped pounding like a drum.
She sat back down and, as gently as she could, dipped the cloth in water and started cleaning his wrist again.
"That's not gonna do much good with the old bandage, sweetheart." Cassian spoke so softly, but with a hint of amusement.
Nesta felt herself smile as she kept her eyes on his wrist. Kept her head ducked so he wouldn't see that reaction, the way she warmed at the way he was talking to her. "I have a clean one in my cloak."
"Well, someone came prepared."
"It's leftover from tonight," she replied. Her heart wasn't wavering, but she was able to school her features enough to look back up at him with an indifferent look. "You just got lucky."
Cassian threw her a crooked grin. "No argument here."
She rolled her eyes, turning slightly to grab the fresh bandage out of her cloak. It wasn't long before she had his wrist re-wrapped.
"How does that feel?"
"Even more perfect," he purred.
She lifted her gaze from his arm to his eyes, stilling when they made contact.
Nesta would never admit it out loud, not even in her conscious thoughts. But, deep in her heart, she knew she'd never seen a more beautiful color than the shade of Cassian's eyes. Brown fading into green, sparkling with flecks of gold, warm and bright.
They stared at each other, their gazes locked and neither had the key to release them. Or neither wished to use it.
She felt Cassian's hand shift, kissing his palm to hers and entwining their fingers. Nesta didn't look down. Didn't look at how they'd tangled together. And neither did Cassian. He held her gaze, something glistening in his eyes she couldn't quite read as he lifted their hands.
Her rose beige skin seemed so pale in contrast with the golden brown of his own.
Nesta's breathing deepened, her nostrils flaring softly and her eyes widening as he brought their hands up. As he brushed his lips to hers and sent her entire body shivering.
Still she watched him. And he her. Paralyzed by each other's stares, unwilling to break it.
"Thank you," he whispered as he lowered their linked hands.
She didn't respond. Barely parted her lips in an attempt. Instead she swallowed, savoring the feel of his calloused fingers grazing the top of her hand.
Dangerous, she finally reminded herself. As if she just found the word that had been eluding her all night.
Cassian was dangerous. He always had been, to her. But now. After being violated by Hybern and forced into this new life, with the war raging around them, a whole continent of people in danger, and Cassian heading off to battle and fighting like he had nothing to return to, Nesta found herself where she'd never wanted to be. Not with him.
Vulnerable.
Yes, she kept her walls up. She'd done her best not to let him in. But she'd failed.
Just like she had with her training.
Knowing she was mere moments away from releasing her control, Nesta finally broke away, looking down and clearing her throat. She started to stand as she said, "Well, I should-"
Her voice cut out when she felt him tug on her arm, refusing to let go of her hand.
"You could stay," he suggested. She tried not to turn her face, to look back at the eyes she could feel boring into the back of her head.
Another failure.
His eyes were as wide as a deer's and as exposed as a bear in the middle of a large meadow.
She could read it all in that moment. The want, the hope, the fear. Everything he always hid from her, as she did him.
"I d-"
"Please," he added.
"You're injured, Cassian." She tried not to stop and say his name again. To feel it on her lips, the sheer perfection of the sound. "You do need to sleep."
He chuckled softly. "I wasn't planning on doing anything else. But that doesn't mean you can't join me." He paused, waiting for her reply, but she just stared at him. At those eyes, completely entrancing and pulling her close as he threw out a final plea. "Just for tonight?"
Nesta had never felt her chest pound as quickly as it was in that moment, as she reminded herself that this was a bad idea. Her propriety lessons seemed to be shouting at her and she could feel her mother rolling over in her grave. And yet, she nodded.
Cassian's entire body seemed to sag in relief as he let out a loud sigh, a faint smile resting on his lips.
Nesta disposed of the old bandage and moved the bucket back to the corner she'd found it. As she did, Cassian stood and stretched, his wings spreading as far as they could in the tent so that when Nesta turned, she found herself face to face with the black, membranous appendages.
Beautiful, she found herself thinking. Yet, all too soon, Cassian was tucking them in and turning to face her.
Nervously, she fiddled with the tie of her cloak.
"I'll get in first and turn around until you join me," Cassian offered, not waiting for her response to do just as he said.
She knew it was silly. The Fae didn't hold to the same standards and social rules as the humans. And her full-length nightgown wasn't exactly revealing, either. The blue, satin material was completely opaque, only revealing her bare arms and decolletage. Still, it wasn't until Cassian was lying in the cot, his head facing the back of the tent that she was able to remove the cloak and drape it over a chair.
Nesta slid into the bed, already warming with Cassian's body heat, and pulled the blanket over her and Cassian.
Once it was in place, Cassian shifted. It wasn't exactly graceful or smooth. Considering the size of the cot, it took him a full minute before he was on his side and facing Nesta, both wings behind him.
He looked at Nesta, their faces mere inches apart on the pillow, their bodies flush against each other to keep them both on the cot. For a moment they just stared again, each with the ghost of smile on their lips, until Cassian requested, "Tell me a story?"
"I don't know any," she sighed through a laugh.
"With how much you read? I don't believe that for one second."
She looked down for a moment, her eyes falling on his rising and falling chest. Thank the gods it was covered. Nesta doubted she'd be holding herself so well if he'd been shirtless this entire time. "I don't think you want to hear those stories."
Cassian's lips curved into a smirk as he said, "Oh, I'm pretty sure I do."
She tapped him on the chest with the back of her hand as a scoff escaped her lips, Cassian laughing freely.
"Okay, fine," he breathed. "Tell me something about yourself."
"I like to read."
Cassian groaned and flicked her nose, making Nesta scrunch her face as she attempted to swat his hand away. It didn't deter him much, though. Instead he simply grabbed her hand and held it softly, the clasped hands falling to rest between them beneath their chins.
"Something I don't know."
"You should've clarified when you asked," she replied. He tilted his head as much as he could, his eyes expectant. "I like chocolate."
Cassian rolled his eyes softly. "Don't all females?"
"The smart ones." Cassian let out a low chuckle, his eyes flicking around her face, as if he were trying to memorize every line. It stole her breath away. He stole her breath away. It was another thing she couldn't admit. "And I love music."
"Hmm," he sighed, his eyes shuttering closed.
"And dancing."
Cassian's lips twitched up for a moment, his hand giving hers a squeeze.
"But I can't sing to save my life," she whispered. Nesta watched him for a moment, waiting for a response, but nothing came. His breathing grew even, the hold on her hand slackening slightly. His lips were now parted and his eyes fully shut.
His face looked softer, relaxed in a way she hadn't seen before. As if, in sleep, all his cares faded away. She wondered if being with her helped him with that, the way laying next to him seemed to with her.
She tightened her own grip on his hand and snuggled a bit closer to him, drifting to sleep as a thought flashed across her mind she'd never be able to say aloud.
And I think I might be falling for you.
For a moment, Nesta couldn't remember where she was. All she knew was that she felt warm and safe and entirely unburdened.
She wanted to stay wherever she was and drift right back off to sleep, but her eyes seemed to have a different plan.
They fluttered open to reveal a strong, ridiculously attractive male, with jaded lines and rough features that seemed like they could call to the wind. And then she remembered.
Cassian. She'd spent the night with Cassian, in his bed, her hand still in his.
Whatever peace she felt quickly vanished as she recalled the various decisions she'd made last night. What she offered to him just through her actions.
What was she thinking? Showing up at Cassian's tent in the middle of the night to 'check on his arm'?
She felt the beating of a drum within her gut as her face lit on fire. It was too much.
Ever so carefully, she removed her hand from his and turned her body, only to realize his wing had curled around her during the night. She poked her arm out of the bed as a first step, and then snapped it back in at the bitter cold she felt.
Now that she thought about it, Nesta realized her torso felt far warmer than her legs. Something cracked within her. The wing - it was keeping them warm, keeping her warm.
She looked over her shoulder. Cassian's hair was tousled around the pillow, his lips just slightly parted, his cheeks adorned with the faintest flush. She couldn't stop the smile that spread at the sight.
And that was the problem.
Nesta turned back and braced herself, sliding out of the bed gently and then rushing to where she'd left her cloak. She threw the garment over her shoulders, her entire body shivering as she grew accustomed to the chilly, morning air.
A quick look around the tent, at how it was slightly lit by the outside light coming through the canvas, told Nesta it was likely only just past sunrise.
Perfect. That hopefully meant there wouldn't be many others out and seeing her make her way back to her tent.
Taking a seat in the chair, Nesta grabbed her boots and pulled them on. She did up the laces quickly and stood again. There was nothing else of hers in the tent, but something was keeping her there, pulling her back to the occupied cot.
She sighed, turning and looking at Cassian, still sleeping peacefully. He didn't ever look old, but something about this state did make him look younger. Nesta found herself walking back toward the cot and stopping at the edge. His chest continued to rise and fall evenly, his breath caressing the pillow beneath him.
Slowly, Nesta reached out and brushed her fingers through his hair, the strands soft against her skin. She used the movement to push some of his hair out of his face and reveal that devastating profile. She trailed her fingers through his hair a second time, that smile returning to her face.
With Cassian asleep, Nesta let herself speak in a whisper. "I'm sorry I have to go. I…well…I think you'll understand. Maybe I'll see you later."
One last stroke of his hair, and she was pivoting on her heel and tiptoeing out the tent.
The second she stepped outside Nesta grabbed her cloak and held it close to her body. She looked around for a moment, gaze falling on a pair of brown eyes widening at the sight.
With a small smirk, Nesta lifted her chin and turned her face away from the shimmering, golden hair as Mor stood aghast in front of her tent, starting toward her own tent where she hoped to get a few more hours of sleep.
a/n: Part of me was a bit worried about this piece and it maybe going a bit too OOC. But, the more I thought about it, the more I think that, judging SOLELY on ACOMAF and ACOWAR Nesta and Nessian, I don't think it is if we consider Cassian's adjusted action in part 1. The whole concept of this is, essentially, what could've been if he showed her the priority he supposedly felt for her. It's basically turning into a story of what it might have been like if Cassian had continuously chosen Nesta and showed her that she can trust him. It's leaving-for-the-High-Lord's-meeting Cassian, and what ACOWAR might've been like for them if he'd continued with that type of attitude, dodging Mor's hand so he could talk to Nesta, so he could take her hand and look at her while they winnowed. (*swoon*) And, when I consider that, and the way Cassian defended her in the meeting, how he believed her when even Feyre didn't, if he'd kept up with that, vs. essentially rejecting her/prioritizing Mor, I think Nesta might've opened up more, too. She's still guarded, of course. And nervous, and dealing with having been human all her life and learning their societal rules. But there's a pull there she can't deny. And, in this fix, he makes her feel safe because he chooses her constantly and shows her that she matters to him.
Nesta doesn't exactly know why she's in his tent again, but she finds an excuse that may not have been the best one to use.
Warnings: None | Word Count: 1,427 | Nessian Masterlist
Previous Part | Next Part | Stay Masterlist | Read on AO3
Nesta was completely frozen.
This was why she'd been worried about how to announce herself the night before. She didn't know what she'd do if she found Cassian…less than fully dressed.
Apparently the answer was to forget everything she'd ever known, even how to move and speak.
The only thing she didn't forget was how to flick her eyes down a bit to get a full view of that chest. Of those entrancing, dark whorls, foreign to Nesta yet perfectly situated on Cassian, as if they were designed specifically for him and not an entire race.
She felt her eyes widen, a warmth rushing to her face, but she couldn't look away.
Her gaze traced the tattoo up one arm, across his pectorals, and down the other. The lines of his muscles were obvious beneath his warm, light brown skin. But it was nothing to his torso, to the absurd way it was sculpted. Some of the muscles visible were ones Nesta didn't even know existed. And then there was that defined V, dipping beneath those loose pants he was currently wearing.
It had her mouth drying in a way Nesta had never experienced. She swallowed in an attempt to help, but it only made things worse as Cassian tracked the movement in her throat.
Moving her eyes away from a scar on his left pectoral that had snagged her attention, Nesta finally met his stare again. It was darker now, and had glazed over slightly. Her gut hollowed out at that look.
Suddenly, Nesta realized where she was, what she'd been doing, as if time had frozen and was now starting again. It snapped something in her and had her straightening her back as she fumbled, "Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."
She turned and managed all of one step before Cassian's hand was holding hers, tugging her back to him.
"You didn't," he breathed, a gentle smile softening that rugged face. "My door's always open for you." His thumb brushed the back of her hand and Nesta's shoulders relaxed.
"You mean your flap?" she shot back, her voice too breathy to have the bite she'd been going for.
Cassian chuckled darkly. "Most definitely." His scent shifted slightly in a way Nesta couldn't read, but it had her thinking she may have said something more with her words than she'd meant.
Stupid.
She was stupid for coming here. Nesta barely even knew why she had. Why she'd wanted to see him again after spending the entire day with him. Why she hadn't been able to stop herself as she wandered toward this tent.
What was it about him that had Nesta coming back again? That had her losing her sense of reason? Even months ago, when she'd lifted her chin and gave him access to her neck. When she'd found herself wanting more deeply than she'd ever thought possible. Yet here she was, and that desire had only grown.
She had to stop it.
She had to fulfill it.
Her heart thundered as it warred with her mind, her body frozen in place.
Cassian didn't say anything. He just watched her, as if he were spectating her battle within, waiting for her decision. Holding her hand, a lifeline to reality. To him.
"Well, thank you," she finally sighed, her mouth once again able to form words. "I just came to say good night."
His face fell slightly. "Is that all you came for?"
Nesta's entire body was pulsing as she lied, "Yes."
"Then good night." He nodded stiffly as he said the words, letting go of her hand and taking every ounce of warmth with him when he turned away from her.
Her lips curved downward into a frown, her brows furrowing as something seemed to prick at her stomach. A chill shuddered through her. It left something between despair and rage in its wake as she muttered a second, "Good night," and pivoted on her heel.
She walked back toward the entrance of the tent. Her hand gripped at the flap to open it for her when she heard a sudden, "Wait!"
Cassian's hand was suddenly on hers, a silent plea for her to let go of the canvas. She could feel the rest of his presence behind her. A hulking, comforting shadow. She did as requested, and the hand moved to fasten the canvas pieces together so no one else could walk in. But she didn't turn.
"Stay?" he whispered. She felt his breath caress the shell of her ear, could sense the closeness of his face to her temple. "Please."
That same hand found hers again, dangling beside her legs. He rested it on top of hers, curling his fingers between her own. And when she curved hers around his, his other arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Her eyes fluttered shut as her back pressed against his chest.
Nesta couldn't stop herself as she laid her arm over his, linking their free hands the same way he'd done with their other ones.
She could feel his cheek against her temple now, as if he were using her head to support his own slightly. She could feel his heart against her neck as said, "Please, stay with me."
The soft nod she gave him was accompanied by a breathed out, "I will." Her mind stilled as her heart purred contently. She felt Cassian's smile against her head, but she didn't open her eyes, didn't dare move. Not as his warmth enveloped her. As her body hummed in delight, relishing in their closeness.
This flush against him, she could feel the hardness of his torso. The cut lines of his absurd muscles. The way his pulse raced just as it had earlier that day. She was entirely engulfed by him, and she never wanted to be otherwise.
But all too soon, Cassian shifted, pulling his face away slightly as he sighed, "Let's get into bed. We could both use more sleep than we got last night."
Involuntarily, she whimpered as he went to detangle them enough so they could actually move. Cassian chuckled softly in a way that cascaded down Nesta's body, thrilling her more than any one male should be able to.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not letting go for long." His voice was deep and guttural, and choppy in a way that said he wasn't feeling as light as his words.
He pulled his arm away, keeping their other hands linked as he led her toward the cot. He then kicked off his shoes and got in, shutting his eyes and placing a hand over them as he waited for Nesta to ready herself. She couldn't help but smile lightly at the action, his memory of the night before.
As quickly as she could, Nesta removed her cloak and draped it over a chair before sliding off her own boots and climbing beneath the blanket.
Once Cassian felt her beside him, he opened his eyes and turned onto his side so they were facing each other again. This time, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him, tangling his legs with hers. Nesta felt her body relax at the closeness, even as a piece of her mind shouted at her to run far and fast from this male.
She knew it was dangerous and foolish, to allow herself to be so affected. To allow herself to grow close to him, to let him be a comfort to her. But it felt so right to be in his arms, to be warmed by him instead of the unnatural magic of the tents.
Everything in her world had changed. Everything was different and distorted. Rust tinted her senses everywhere she went, the Fae so reliant on magic she couldn't escape it.
Everything, except him.
Despite the differences in her life, despite being a part of this new world, Cassian was a constant. A dangerous, terrifying, all-consuming constant. She'd been drawn to him as a human just as she was now. She'd been challenged, scandalized, and comforted by him. And even in her last moments as a human, she saw him use his very last ounce of strength to attempt to crawl toward her, save her.
So Nesta ignored the screamed warnings and snuggled close to him, relishing in his warmth, in the constant of him as she drifted off. She fell asleep savoring the feel of his eyes on her, that same stare she'd felt months ago before her world turned upside down.
Cassian helps Nesta out with some of her chores for the healers.
Warnings: None | Word Count: 2,445 | Nessian Masterlist
Previous Part | Stay Masterlist | Read on AO3
a/n: I don't love this chapter. I like some of what I did but, idk...I'm still not 100% if it's fully right and in character, some of the things. And I'm not 100% on the snapping at Mor, but it also felt weird to not have it, and @c-e-d-dreamer really wanted it lol...so, like...just...yeah...
Cassian couldn't contain his smile as he went to fetch a sixth bucket of water for Nesta.
It should've been dull work, taking half of Nesta's tasks for her. They were all simple things. Fetching water, ripping bandages, getting food. But Cassian loved it all the same. Best way to spend the day.
Because he got to spend it with Nesta.
He shouldn't be thinking it. He knew that. He knew it was dangerous territory. But after the past twenty-four hours, he didn't have it in himself to really care.
He'd slept with Nesta. In the literal sense. He'd woken to the feel of her sliding her hand out of his, which meant their hands had remained clasped through the night. And now he was spending the day with her, helping her, because she asked him to. Because Nesta invited him to join her.
To be near her. To spend this time together.
Was this not a step toward…something? He threw himself into the path of rejection the night before, she then made herself similarly vulnerable in her invitation. How much more was needed before he'd let himself admit the true extent of his feelings? Even just to himself.
He reached the area he'd left Nesta to find her sitting next to one of his youngest soldiers. Darius.
He currently had his shirt off as Nesta changed an adhesive bandage on his torso.
Cassian felt himself bristle slightly as he watched her rub some ointment one of the healers had given her on the boy's wound.
Well, boy wasn't a fair assessment. He might be a boy to Cassian, but he was at least thirty five, and well past reaching his majority. He was also one of the better looking of the newest group of warriors. And if Cassian remembered some of the gossip correctly, half the young females at his camp were clamoring for his attention, desperate to be the one he chooses to take for a wife.
And he was currently watching Nesta zealously.
Darius let out a deep sigh, the ointment taking its effect even as Nesta continued to apply it.
"If you truly are a witch, you must be one of the rare good ones," Darius purred.
Nesta rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips ticked upward. Cassian could feel his knuckles growing white as he held the heavy bucket and watched Nesta reply, "Don't be ridiculous. I'm simply following the healer's instructions. They're the miracle workers."
She finished with the ointment, screwing its top back on before she started taping a new bandage to the wound.
"I've been treated by those healers before. Trust me, you add something special."
Cassian waited for Nesta to respond, but she just kept working on the bandage, her gaze focused on her hands, the cloth, the tape. As if she was terrified of getting something wrong.
Discomfort. And fear. That's what lay in that steely gaze, Cassian realized. She didn't fully know what she was doing. Just as she didn't know yesterday how to wrap Cassian's arm. He had to walk her through it. But it didn't stop her. No, Nesta didn't let something as minor as a lack of knowledge keep her from doing something.
She'd decided to help with the war, and apparently that went far beyond sharing her story. And as with all paths she chooses to take, she wouldn't let anything stand in her way.
The epiphany had Cassian smiling to himself again, even as Darius' gaze rolled over Nesta.
"Are you going to stand there all day with that thing?" Nesta asked, and it took Cassian a minute to realize she wasn't talking to Darius.
It seemed to take the other warrior a moment, too. His brows furrowed before he started looking around the camp to see who else she might be talking to. It wasn't until his eyes snagged on Cassian, though, that the little smirk he'd been wearing fell.
Cassian tried not to think about the fact that Nesta knew he was there without having seen him. Tried not to wonder what that could mean. Tried not to consider the times he may have experienced the same, and what it had felt like.
Instead, he stepped toward her, an easy grin spreading across his face. "I didn't want to interrupt and cause a mistake. Figured you'd rather not need to redo your work." And I'd rather not watch you caress his abs again, thank you.
"Look at that. Some brains in there after all," Nesta crowed. Her lips curved further as she finally met his stare.
Cassian couldn't help but chuckle softly. The look on Darius' face only added to his amusement as he watched the soldier's gaze bounce between him and Nesta. Cassian wasn't sure what shocked him more - that Nesta had said something like that to the Commander, or that Cassian let her.
Either way, the moment Nesta told him she was done Darius was throwing his shirt on and standing, giving Cassian a nod of respect before he rushed off to wherever his tent or friends were.
Nesta stood, her gaze slowly scanning his body, working its way down and then back up. "For such feared warriors, you all sure do scare easily."
"They should be afraid of their commander. At least, a little bit," Cassian sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.
She tracked that, too. Her eyes fell on one of his biceps, noting the way his muscles flexed in the stance. She chuckled softly, "I don't know why they'd be scared of you." Lie. Though one of the most believable ones Cassian had ever heard. "But I was including you in that group."
Cassian let out a scoff. "There are few things in this world that frighten me. The things that do…they'd terrify even those with no fears."
"And yet," she started, taking a step toward Cassian, "you fear me."
His breathing hitched as she moved another few inches closer. They were still at least two feet from each other, but it was close enough he could smell her on the wind.
"I don't."
Another lie, this time from him. Cassian hated that it was, but what could he do? Admit that she terrified him? That he'd never felt his heart hit the speeds it raced when she was near. That she already held something in her hands Cassian had never willingly given - to anyone. That a few choice words from her could crush him in a way no opponent in battle ever had.
But it wasn't what Nesta thought.
"Are you sure about that?" she cooed. Another step. A long one. It brought her close enough that Cassian need only sway to feel the brush of her breasts. "I can hear your heart when you're this close. Is that its normal speed?"
Cassian watched as Nesta lifted a hand, resting it above the galloping beat in his chest. She watched her fingers for a moment before lifting her gaze, the blue shining clearer in the light of the sun. Cassian didn't know how it was possible for him to miss the clouds and celebrate the crystal sky all at once.
He shook his head in answer and Nesta's lips curved into a wicked half-smile.
"See. Fear."
Cassian clenched his hands into fists at his side to keep himself from grabbing her face and pulling her closer, bringing those full lips to his.
Gods, did he want to. His eyes kept flicking to those pink lines. He licked his lips unconsciously, hardening as he watched Nesta mark the movement.
"It's not fear. Not like that," he replied. He could hear the guttural tone. And he was definitely going to use it again. Nesta's eyes fluttered, her heart quickened, her scent shifted. It sent Cassian's mind spiraling, something exploding within him.
His resolve crumbled around him, and Cassian was about to lunge forward when Nesta laughed, cold and distant.
He stilled, his eyes searching hers for something, anything to tell him what was in her mind. But that damn wall had slammed into place, her face almost blank of emotion.
"Everyone's afraid of me. They always have been. Long before I went into that cursed pot."
It felt like a punch to the gut. To hear such an admission. The truth behind the words.
In one way or another, people did fear her. Now, because of whatever lived within her. That power the Bone Carver hinted at. Before then, for her words, her wit, her icy demeanor. Cassian wondered if there was ever a time she hadn't been feared. If there was ever a time where all she knew was love.
One look into that stony stare and he had his answer.
Before he could stop himself, Cassian lifted a hand to her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. She didn't flinch or step away, and it caused a warmth to spread through him he hadn't experienced…ever. But it was nothing to the way his entire body tingled when she leaned into his touch.
He leaned in closer and whispered, "I'm not, Nesta. Nor will I ever be. No matter what happens, I will never be afraid of you."
"You say that now, but-"
"Never," he repeated. "I don't know what power you hold." He threw her a crooked smirk. "But I can't wait to see it. To hear its song."
A delicious shade of red spread across Nesta's cheeks. Her eyes fell, and Cassian was about to bend down to get them back when he noticed the smell of cinnamon in the air.
Instead he stiffened, standing at his full height. Nesta noted the shift just as a female tentatively said, "Sorry."
Nesta jumped back and away from Cassian, his hand suddenly empty.
He let his now clenching fist fall to his side as he ground out, "What do you want, Mor?"
"I didn't mean to interrupt." Her voice was closer now. Cassian didn't look behind him to see where she was, to get an idea of what she had or hadn't seen. "Althea is asking for Nesta, on the western border of the camp. She asked me to find her."
Looking to Cassian's side, no doubt meeting Mor's eyes, Nesta nodded. "Of course. I'll head straight to her." She turned her face slightly to look back up at Cassian.
He felt his lips uptick when her eyes met his again.
"Bring the water?" she asked, smirking in a way that had his knees nearly buckling.
"Yes, ma'am." He grinned down at her, his heart growing louder at the amusement that flashed in her eyes.
She didn't say anything else before walking around Cassian and heading west toward the area Mor mentioned.
Wasting no time, Cassian picked up the bucket and followed her, but a hand on his arm stilled him.
"Cass, can we talk?"
His jaw was tense, his teeth pressed against each other. "I'm busy," he practically growled, pulling his arm away from her.
There was nothing left to say. He was done with Mor trying to convince him that spending time with Nesta was a bad idea.
She couldn't be more wrong. How could it be a bad idea when it felt so right? When he was getting smiles and smirks and sassy comments and laughs from her. When he was granted a rare view into her innermost thoughts, the feelings she always hid so well. When he had been lucky enough to sleep beside her, to feel her hand in his, the softness of her skin.
When he would meet those blue-grey eyes and feel the world shift beneath them, bringing them to a place where no one else existed, where nothing else mattered but her. Nesta.
"Cassian, please," Mor pleaded, jogging to try and catch up to him. "Just hear me out."
He stopped, pivoting on the spot. "Why? So you can tell me again what and idiot you think I'm being? So you can remind me about all the things Nesta did years ago when she was a child to try and convince me she's a terrible person? So you can spout bullshit about how you care about me, are worried about me, all while not giving a damn about my actual happiness?"
Mor was frozen, gaping up at him. She didn't move. Didn't speak. She didn't even blink.
"That's what I thought," he scoffed, shaking his head lightly. "I'm done with it, Mor. Go tell someone else because I'm not listening. Not until you prove to me that you're only thinking about me."
Her brows furrowed, but Cassian didn't wait to turn around and start walking, only to stop a step later when she breathed, "What makes you think I'm not?"
"Because if you were, if you really wanted me to be happy, you wouldn't be trying to stop me," he replied, his voice strong as he continued to look ahead.
And when he moved again toward the west, Mor didn't stop him.
It was a long, grueling day.
Not that the chores were particularly difficult. Cassian just hadn't needed to do any like that in a long time.
It didn't keep him from walking back into his tent after dinner with a stupid grin on his face.
He'd spent the entire day with Nesta - or, at least, near Nesta. And it ended with him sitting beside her as they ate around a campfire, finding any way he could to make her smile or laugh. No matter how stupid it made him look. So long as her attention was on him.
Sighing, he hung his jacket on a chair and then peeled his shirt off. Cassian forgot how hot the Summer Court could get. His shirt was damp all over, clinging to his body by the end of the day.
A new bucket with clean water stood in the corner of his tent, a dry cloth resting on its ridge. Cassian dipped the crimson fabric into the water and brought it to his arms, rinsing off the sweat.
He savored the feel of the water, the slight chill to it that helped cool him down. It was exactly what he needed. His skin still felt warm from the sun, though he had a feeling someone else was to blame for the flush on his face.
A breeze rushed into the tent, carrying with it the scent of a winter sunrise over a dwindling fire.
Cassian's smile widened as he continued to wash off his torso.
It wasn't until he was done with the cloth, having washed as much as he could, that he turned around and asked, "Enjoying the view, sweetheart?"
a/n: "Darius" is a Greek name that means "possessing goodness". "Althea" means "healer", also Greek because I pictured her as Illyrian. Yes, I went very on the nose with that one. 😂
Cassian reflects on his night with Nesta, and is interrupted by Mor barging in to talk to him about it.
Warnings: Truth 👀 | Word Count: 1,743 | Nessian Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Read on AO3
a/n: I started this earlier today, just wanting to get something written to feel like I was being productive. And then the motivation hit, and I brought some rage to the surface I didn't realize was still lingering. I actually thought I wouldn't be able to finish this for a while cause I needed to find my anger again...guess it was just hiding. 👀 Or I may be projecting other frustrations on to her...good thing she's fictional. 😂
Cassian was clenching his toes as hard as he could. Something to focus on, to keep him from smirking as he pretended to sleep. Nesta was still in the tent. He could hear her movements as she dressed and slid on her shoes.
Waiting. That's what he was doing. Waiting for her to be at the tent's opening. And then he was going to speak, tease her about leaving without saying goodbye. Or maybe taunt her for being so insanely loud. Did she not hear herself? He'd need to teach her how to move more silently.
She was about halfway to the entrance, and Cassian was just about to open his mouth, when he heard her stop. Suddenly, she was walking back toward him, stopping at the edge of the cot. His body instinctively froze, but he forced it to relax quickly. He didn't want her to know he'd been faking.
The air shifted with Nesta standing there. It was a summer storm without the rain. Warm and humid, with a breeze holding a frost that was unseasonably cold. The lightning didn't come from the sky, but was a bolt between them, electrifying the air and drawing his spirit closer even as his body remained where it was.
His heart thundered. Nesta was difficult to read and predict at the best of times. Take away his ability to actually look at her…Cassian was clueless. Maybe Nesta was studying him. Maybe she'd heard his breathing become slightly less even, heard his heart begin to race. Maybe she was standing over him, waiting for him to open his eyes and call him out. Or studying him to make sure.
Or maybe she was pissed that she'd stayed with him and was now plotting his murder. That seemed plausible.
If she'd trained with him, she might have better success. Too bad for her.
He kept up his ruse, waiting for her to say something, but she didn't. Instead, she seemed to lean closer to him, her scent of steel and fire and snow slamming into him.
And then he felt it.
A delicate brush of fingers through his hair. Gentle and tentative. They pushed some hair that had fallen over his cheek away from his face as they combed through the strands. Cassian had to clamp down slightly on his teeth to keep himself from moaning at the touch.
They ghosted through his hair again, and then she spoke. Just a whisper, words that didn't mean much, and yet they meant everything. Because she'd said them thinking he was asleep. Because her breathy tone felt like a caress on the wind. Because Cassian did understand.
He knew he had to let her go. She'd never forgive him for faking sleep during that. For the embarrassment she'd feel. This strong, proud woman - female - wouldn't care if he reciprocated. Or if he tugged her back onto the bed and let every word he wanted to say to her spill from his lips. The damage would be done, and no doubt she would take it out on him.
And he'd rather she not do that. He liked sleeping beside her too much to give it up so easily.
So he stayed still, holding his body taut as a shiver ran through him when she trailed her fingers through his hair one last time.
He listened intently as she tiptoed through the tent again, this time reaching the entrance and exiting, the air growing colder the second she did.
Cassian's eyes shot open.
He sat up in the cot, the blanket remaining around his legs, his knees bent, his arms draped around them. A tingling sensation was spreading across his body from the point on his head Nesta had grazed. It seeped down, chilling him further.
Letting out a deep breath, he lifted one hand and ran it through his hair, stopping halfway and grabbing the strands.
The tent around him was dimly lit by the morning sun. It must've been just after dawn, a pinkish, orange glow still present with the light. So they'd only slept a few hours. Four, maybe five? He wasn't entirely sure what time it was when Nesta showed up. He didn't care.
She'd stayed.
Cassian had wanted to pull the words back, reel them in like a fish, the second they were released. He'd felt so stupid for suggesting it, for thinking that Nesta Archeron would willingly stay with him.
And still, when she was about to turn him down, he'd simply said, Please. Like the beggar he was when it came to Nesta, desperate for whatever she'd give him. He'd rather spend an hour fighting with her, being berated by that sharp tongue, than spend that same hour without her.
He'd cursed himself internally, relentlessly. But then she didn't say no, and Cassian found his hope.
He was certain she'd leave the moment he was asleep. That's why he'd asked her to talk to him, thinking it might keep him up, the chance to learn about her, or just hear her voice.
Instead it proved to be the world's most effective lullaby. Her pointed tone, her fierce wit, the warmth of her hand in his. He'd fallen asleep so quickly he barely had a chance to enjoy having Nesta in his bed. To savor the feeling of her body laying so close to his.
Cassian let her off easy, gave her a way out almost instantly. And she didn't take it.
Nesta chose to sleep beside him. To stay close to him.
Why'd she have to wake up so early? What was it that pulled her from sleep? Had she not slept as well as him? Because Cassian…he wasn't sure he'd ever had such a good night's sleep, even if it was only for a few hours.
He wished he'd woken first. Early enough to see her laying there, to get a glimpse of her bed head, a whiff of her morning breath. Maybe a peek at her face, relaxed in sleep. That was something he wanted to see, though he wasn't positive he could handle it.
Nesta would definitely be seeing him later.
Lost in thought, Cassian didn't hear the flaps of his tent move. He didn't hear the soft footsteps. Didn't recognize he had a visitor until he scented the cinnamon and orange in the air.
He sighed and turned his head to look into the russet eyes that were staring at him.
Mor's head was slightly tilted, her brows furrowed. In her eyes he could see concern, confusion, shock, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on, but was certain he didn't like.
"I'm not in the mood to talk at the moment," he grunted, turning his face back toward the wall of the tent.
"Really?" Mor scoffed. "So you're not going to tell me why I just saw Nesta leaving your tent in the same outfit she was in last night?"
Cassian couldn't stop the small smile that twitched at the corner of his lips. If Mor saw, that meant others might've, too. He rather liked that possibility. People knowing that Nesta was something to him. They may not know what, but then again, neither did he.
Swinging his legs over the bed, Cassian stood and started toward where his shirt was draped on a chair, passing Mor without a glance. He grunted, "It's really none of your business."
Mor crossed her arms over her chest, her lips parting in disbelief. At that moment she looked more like a disapproving aunt than a close friend. Based on what he'd already heard and seen from Mor, he had a feeling she was about to sound like one, too.
"I think it is my business when I see my friend playing with fire," she argued.
Cassian ripped his current shirt off. He then grabbed the one on the chair and threw it over his head as he replied, "No, it isn't." He nearly tore the fabric with the force he used to pull it down. "It's my life. What I do with it, who I spend it with, is my business."
"You plan to spend your life with her?"
"My time…or parts of my life or…whatever! You know what I mean," he sighed, looking around for his jacket.
Mor stared at him, her lips pursed. "I'm not so sure I do."
Silence rippled through the tent, Cassian freezing as the air around him shifted to something tense, almost tangible. He flicked his eyes back to her gaze. Wary and assessing. She didn't pull it off nearly as well as Nesta did.
"It still doesn't matter," he finally breathed. "No matter what I meant, or what you think I meant, it's still all my business."
He went back to searching for his jacket, hiding his face slightly from Mor. Because yes, he did want to spend his life with Nesta. Or, at least, he thought he might. And he really wasn't looking to share that little tidbit with Mor. It sounded like a headache he didn't need.
His fingers had just gripped the leather of his jacket when he heard from behind, "I'm allowed to care about you, Cass. I'm allowed to care about who you spend your time with, to worry if I think that person might hurt you."
The words set Cassian's teeth grinding, his back stiffening. He could feel her eyes on him, only to be proven right as he pivoted toward her, his own gaze narrowed, his movements slow and purposeful, like a predator stalking his prey.
There were a thousand things he wanted to say at that moment, and hundreds of ways to say them. But how could he get it just right? To explain to her that he wasn't an idiot. That he's known for centuries exactly how Mor's been using him. That he's let her out of guilt and shame and a desperate need to try and make it right.
That he knows she's abused it. That she's here out of concern, not for him, but for herself. Because she's terrified of losing her buffer.
Words had never been Cassian's strong suit. Especially not when rage flared through his body, his own fire that sang to Nesta's, begging hers to join it.
"You are allowed to," he agreed through grinding teeth. "Why don't you come back when that's what you're doing."
He shoved his arms through his sleeves and strode out the tent.
At the sound of Mor’s voice, Cassian snatched his hand back and pivoted.
…Cassian looked over his shoulder, flicking his eyes up to her for a moment. "Just a sprain. Will be back to normal tomorrow, now." He showed off the wrapped arm as if it were proof, his other hand continuing to hold Nesta's.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Likely going to have more parts, will add in lines for next parts once I know for certain they'll exist.
Nessian Masterlist
Key: * Smut/NSFW | ^ Fluff | " Angst | ° Character Death
Nesta finds Cassian waiting outside her tent later that morning, when it's time for breakfast.
Warnings: None | Word Count: 2,599 | Nessian Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Read on AO3
a/n: See end notes for explanation on a name choice and certain words if you're curious.
Did I add in a little sumthin' sumthin' reminding us all what proper support looks like from a sister? Maybe. Am I ashamed of doing it in a reflection on Elain, essentially calling her out for her crap support? Not at all. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It's not anti-Elain, necessarily, just Nesta's thoughts on what good support looks like, and why she's doing what she's doing for her sister.
Nesta managed to get another hour of sleep after returning to the tent she shared with Elain. She'd hoped for more, but it was clear that wasn't going to happen, and it was better than nothing.
Once awake for good, she changed into a day dress, using a damp cloth to rinse her body clean, first.
As far as she knew, all the injured soldiers had been tended to the day before. Still, she figured it would be good to get out and check on them, especially if they'd be on the move again, soon.
"Do you want me to bring you anything to eat from breakfast?" she asked Elain as she tied her boots up.
No answer. Par for the course, really.
Nesta wished there was a way she could get through to Elain. A way to help her, to speed up whatever healing she had to do. But, she also knew that one of the best things you could give another person was time - time to figure it out for themselves. So she remained by Elain's side, supporting her as best she could, and not forcing her into situations she didn't wish to be in.
Instead, Nesta simply checked the fruit basket to make sure none had rotted and then started out the tent. She planned on finding Feyre, knowing her sister would likely be near food that could be shared with Nesta, but she stalled the moment she stepped outside.
There, leaning against a stump in front of her tent, was Cassian.
His leathers seemed to be more casual than the ones he'd worn the day before. For a lighter form of fighting, if such a thing existed. Still, they clung to his body, showing off every taut muscle, forcing her eyes to trail down him.
He wore a leather jacket over them, adding to the relaxed front he was giving off. And on his face he donned an easy smile that sent Nesta's heart fluttering.
"Stalking me, now?" she asked, stepping toward him.
Cassian laughed softly. "More like returning the favor. You visited me, now I'm visiting you."
"I was checking your wrist."
"Exactly." He pushed off from the stump and closed the distance between them in one long stride. "It should be all healed, now. Won't you remove my wrappings? Healer Archeron?"
Ignoring the light that seemed to rise in Nesta from Cassian using such a stupid excuse to find her, Nesta raised an eyebrow and replied, "Are you truly so incapable you can't remove your own wrappings?"
"Maybe," he breathed, lightly brushing his fingers against hers. Nesta didn't pull her hand away, something Cassian seemed to note. "Maybe I wanted a reason to have breakfast with you." His fingers grazed Nesta's a second time, a few linking around hers. "Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand again."
Nesta saw Cassian look down at their hands, and did the same.
Her hand looked so small, her fingers so delicate wrapped in his. She'd always been thin, but she'd never felt tiny. Being the tallest of her sisters, she had the longest limbs, the largest hands and feet. Next to Cassian, however, her hand looked almost like a child's.
She curved her fingers around his, strengthening the link. Cassian's breathing hitched, and the sound of it had Nesta's own lungs pausing. A heat spread across her cheeks, but for once Nesta didn't care if he saw, if he marked the response.
"Well," she mumbled in a soft, unwavering voice, "I suppose there are worse reasons."
Lifting her head, she found Cassian's eyes already back on hers. Joy sparkled in the hazel irises. His lips curved into a smile as he replied in an amused tone, "At least one. Join me for breakfast? When we're sitting we can get the wrapping sorted."
Speechless, Nesta nodded slowly, Cassian tracking the movement, and then the lines of her face. His eyes lingered for an extra moment on her lips, but then traveled back to her stare. As they did, he lifted her hand, adjusting their positioning so that her arm was now looped through his, her hand holding his forearm.
He brushed the thumb of his other hand once over hers, and then let it fall as they turned and he led her through the camp. It felt intimate, walking with Cassian this way. Their arms in constant contact. But it was also a form of respect, at least in the human world, for a man to offer his arm to a woman. She wondered if it was the same for the Fae. Or did Cassian simply know this about humans and choose to offer that respect to Nesta.
Considering the looks they received, Nesta wondered if it possibly meant more. But she couldn't believe that. Their customs were so different from hers. So much more open. This form of touch was likely nothing to the Fae, no matter how much it meant to her.
What did it mean to Cassian, though? What did he really know? Was he aware she'd never walked like this with a man - or male, she supposed - before? Tomas never offered his arm. And it didn't count when just being led out onto a dance floor from the side of a ballroom. It wasn't the same.
Or, at least, it didn't feel the same. Maybe that's what had Nesta wrapped up in it. The stimulation in her fingers, the way her skin remained raised with gooseflesh as the contact continued. The jolt of electricity that came with each step.
Did Cassian feel that, too? Did he sense the way the air grew taut when he was too far away from her, as if they were attached by an elastic tether that tightened when stretched?
The questions swirled through her head, never to be voiced. No. Nesta would never be able to ask him. Not without exposing herself.
He led her to a fire a bit past his own tent where an older Illyrian male was already seated, heating up some sausages in a pan.
The male's hair was cut fairly short, swept back slightly from the wind. It was dark like Cassian's, but heavily peppered with silvery grey strands that sparkled in the sunlight. His skin was a light bronze - a few shades darker than Cassian's - and had grown leathery from age.
Considering how Cassian looked at over five hundred years old, Nesta could only imagine how old this male was. How many wars he must've fought and survived.
Despite that, when Nesta sat down the male looked up and offered her a warm smile.
"Nesta, this is Kastas. Best campfire cook you'll ever meet," Cassian introduced as he sat beside her.
Kastas let out a breathy chuckle. "More like the oldest. When you're my age, I'm sure you'll have figured it out."
"But by then, you'll have learned even more." Cassian grinned mischievously at Kastas and the male's eyes shimmered with amusement. Hazel, but even brighter than Cassian's, and just slightly foggy. Nesta had seen that before, on some of the older people in her village. It often was the start to them losing their sight. She wondered if the Fae had a solution for it.
She hoped they did.
"We'll see, mikrares."
Kastas turned his eyes back to the pan, but Nesta shifted to look up at Cassian.
He leaned in and said softly, "It means little warrior. Kastas is from Windhaven and has known me since I was left there when I was a child."
"Left?" Nesta couldn't stop herself, the question escaping before she'd realized it.
She knew Cassian was a bastard. It was clear based on how he reacted whenever she called him that. But she didn't know much else about his upbringing. She'd never asked.
"Work on my wrappings as I explain?" he suggested, lifting up the still-wrapped arm. She nodded and started to delicately untie the cloth.
"The Illyrians can be…traditional," he started, his voice quiet. "In some ways it's a lot like human propriety, the way you were brought up. In some ways, it's worse. Many of the males, or at least those in charge, care a lot about bloodlines and legitimacy. A female is meant to keep her maidenhead until she weds. However, most males don't care about that when they're looking for a release."
"Sounds almost exactly like the human world," she muttered. The wrapping from Cassian's arm fell, Nesta having been unraveling it as he spoke. Their hands fell into her lap, but she didn't let go of him. She just loosened her grip enough for him to adjust so that it was his hand in hers, not his wrist.
He waited until she looked up at him, until their eyes locked before he continued. "My mother was taken advantage of, that's how she came to be pregnant with me. When I was old enough to survive without her, they took me and dropped me off at Windhaven. Far enough away I wouldn't know how to get back.
"It's not an uncommon practice," he added. "In the camps, bastards get nothing. No food, no shelter - they have to find their own way."
Nesta could feel her brows furrowing. Horror washed through her, sending a chill up her spine. "As children?"
Cassian nodded. "I didn't receive much help before Rhys got there. Most Illyrians don't have much to spare, and even fewer would be willing to help if they did. However, every once in a while, when passing Kastas' tent, he'd stop me and offer a small portion of the stew he'd made. I always thought it was good, but it wasn't until I was older - and better fed - that I realized just how great the food was." He was smiling lightly, a soft laugh coupling his words. "Now, when I visit Windhaven, I sometimes bring some extra ingredients and join Kastas for dinner."
"Yes, and what a treat it is, to be asked to cook for two instead of one," Kastas quipped. The complaint didn't hold much weight with the lightness of his voice.
Cassian grinned up at the older male. "If you'd join me for dinner in the house, I'd cook for you."
Kastas rolled his eyes, beginning to fill a plate with eggs and some sausage and grumbling to himself. Nesta couldn't fully make out the words, but it sounded like something about not enjoying eating inside and missing the smokiness a fire adds.
He lifted the plate and Cassian leaned over to take it, only to have his hand slapped with the tool Kastas was using to cook with.
"This is for Nesta. You make her unwrap your arm and can't even give her the first serving." Kastas shook his head at Cassian as Nesta laughed.
She stood and accepted the plate from him, giving Kastas a small smile as she said, "Thank you."
"I was going to hand it to her," Cassian muttered, rubbing the top of his hand.
"Mmhmm." Kastas didn't deign Cassian with a glance as he piled a second plate full and handed it to Cassian.
Nesta was still smiling to herself when she picked the foldable fork up from the plate she'd been given and took a bite.
The involuntary sound that escaped her was something Nesta had never heard before. It had Cassian stilling beside her and Kastas chuckling quietly, but she didn't care. It was amazing.
Maybe not the best food she'd ever had. But it had been at least two, maybe three days since she'd had something not cooked over a campfire.
Gods, was that all it had been? Had it really only been two days since she'd stepped in Illyria for the first time, since she'd watched Graysen completely shred the last pieces of Elain's heart that were intact. Less, really, considering how early in the morning it was compared to the afternoon sun that was shining when they were in the mortal lands.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
"This is amazing," Nesta offered to Kastas before taking a second bite. He nodded his thanks and went on to continue cooking the eggs he was making for himself.
She could understand why some might prefer meals cooked over fire, the taste of the smoke and heat from it. And Kastas had used something in the eggs, some spice mix, that blended perfectly with it. That brought out new flavors Nesta had never experienced.
Most didn't seem to bother with things like spices with the war raging around them. Even in books she'd read, it was often noted that war camps were low on food provisions and offered no luxury. Whether that was true for most or not in Fae wars, she didn't know, but clearly Kastas didn't think war had to mean eating only to survive.
Maybe he thought that war meant making sure every meal was good enough to be your last.
Another hope flashed across her mind, and she prayed to whatever deity listening that this war wouldn't bring that upon him.
Kastas and Cassian chatted idly as they ate. Nesta remained silent, listening as Cassian explained that they didn't yet know where they were going next, and until they did, he'd give his warriors time to rest and heal.
"What will you be doing as we await news, Nesta?" Kastas asked, the honey brown in his eyes bright as he looked at her.
"Looking in on the healing warriors, mostly," she guessed. As she spoke, Cassian took her empty plate and Kastas', bringing them over to a bucket to rinse them. "And other tasks I can do to help out. I can't do much, but hopefully I can offer some help."
Kastas' eyes softened. "I think you underestimate yourself, Nesta. Looking after, speaking to the warriors - that goes a long way. High morale has won as many wars as good strategy and well-trained warriors has." Nesta gave him another small smile, but he wasn't done. "And keeping the Commander's spirits up is a far bigger service than anyone would ever admit."
"I don't-"
Kastas raised a hand to cut Nesta off. "It's not my business, mikrívasí. But, stay with him, and perhaps you'll see it, too."
Nesta didn't have a response to that. She'd never really learned how to respond to kind words. It's not as if they were extremely common in her life.
So she nodded, standing just as Cassian returned, brushing dust off her skirt.
"Are you going somewhere?" he asked, sounding almost worried as he handed the plates and forks - now folded - to Kastas.
Nesta looked up at him, hands on her head checking to make sure her hair was still in its coronet. "I should be going to check on the warriors, see how I can help the healers."
"Didn't you spend most of last night doing that? You deserve to rest, too," he argued gently. Cassian took a step closer, flashing her a crooked smile.
Nesta felt a tiny laugh escape her. A part of her wanted to stay there with him. A larger part than she wished to admit. But offering her assistance, it was the right thing to do. The helpful thing.
But…that didn't mean she had to leave him.
She looked over at Kastas, who gave her an encouraging smile and nodded, as if he knew what she was debating.
"Come with me then," she suggested to Cassian. "Be my helper, and then maybe I'll be able to get more rest later."
Cassian's eyes lit up, his smile spreading wider across his face. "Gladly."
a/n: According to nameberry, "Kastas" is a variation of "Kostas", also Greek, and means "steadfast".
"Mikrares" is a combination of "mikrós" and "Ares". According to Google (and please feel free to correct me if it's wrong, as I know Google is not the most reliable translator), in Greek when you're calling someone a "little something", you'd use mikrós, instead of the term for "little" that shows up when that's all you put in the translator - it kinda made sense to me, so I felt there was a chance at accuracy. I was going to just have it be the two words that mean together "little warrior", but I wanted something that would feel more like a term of endearment and wasn't totally a real word (since it's meant to be Illyrian as they might speak it in ACOTAR), so instead I used Ares, after the god. The idea is that, if you're trying to translate it more directly, yes, it would mean "little Ares", but as with most languages, in this case the word can't be perfectly, directly translated. It's more a term derived from concepts, that then turns into "little warrior". Similarly, but also a bit different, "mikrívasí" is meant to be a word deriving from "little queen", which Google says is "mikrí vasílissa" - again, happy to be corrected if that's wrong. Hope that makes sense!
