"We are not born with hard hearts. We are born with soft and tender hearts that, more often than not, are mishandled and consequently broken. The pain is always harsher than expected when each fragment turns to stone. So we pile them high to form a wall of protection around ourselves, determined never to experience such terrible pain again. That is how hearts come to be hardened. Ironically, our refusal to dismantle the wall is how and why we continue to suffer."
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Being Bold: Quotes, Poetry, & Motivations for Every Day of the Year
Summary: Nesta doesn’t want to face the consequences of almost dying with Cassian. (ignore all of canon post acowar)
Part 1, Part 2
Honestly don’t know why I keep writing this. I don’t even think anything is really happening, but it’s just kind of enjoyable how simple it is. It’s nice.
~
The people in the city liked to ask her how Cassian was doing and so Nesta made up stories. A rash, a bout of diarrhea. A sneezing fit that would blow all their bouquets to dust.
No one else was so amused by her skills in storytelling. They looked worried for the poor general. But Nesta knew he was fine—sick in bed, but recuperating. More annoying than ever since he didn’t have to deal with all these questions. They asked her with expectance in their eyes and far be it for Nesta not to answer them politely.
They gave him baskets too. Luxurious pears that tasted as sweet as honey, chocolates, and mini cakes so finely decorated. So Nesta shared a bit with Elain while they picnicked in the park, since Nesta would not be around once Cassian hobbled out of bed, stretching those glorious wings.
He hadn’t asked about her, she’d learned, so Nesta wouldn’t bother with him, except for eating his pears and contemplating his death.
“This is awfully sweet of Cassian to share these baskets with you,” Elain noted lightly.
Nesta frowned, and finished swallowing her bite. “How did you know they were Cassian’s?”
“His name is written on the tag.”
Nesta peeked at the sprawling cursive for only a moment before looking to the glistening Sidra. There were a few children feeding a flock of birds and laughing as they squawked.
At least she hadn’t left it for the crows, Nesta decided. They certainly wouldn’t appreciate a nice pear.
Clearly, there was no sense in telling her sister now that they’d mostly eaten all the contents that the basket had never been truly gifted to her. They’d never been truly gifted to Cassian anyways once they left the patron’s hands.
“He seems to doing well. He was at breakfast this morning… though you weren’t there.”
“I had errands to run,” she lied.
“So early?” Elain raised a brow. “You don’t even like getting up before noon.”
“I like looking at the sunrise.”
“You hate the sun.”
“And I wanted to see the flowers blooming in the town square.”
“You complained last time that they made your skin itch.”
Nesta fisted her palms in the grass, pulling at the damp stalks, and Elain’s smile grew wry.
“I don’t know why you’re asking. It hardly matters where I’m at in the morning.”
Elain simply shrugged and said, “he was looking for you I think.”
Her sister didn’t even need to say his name and Nesta knew who she spoke of. Nesta wouldn’t falter at the words. Not when she knew he hadn’t asked for her.
At first, she didn’t dare ask if he’d ever requested her, called out for her, was waiting for her in the depths of that lonely room. Morrigan never gave any inclination when she came to visit, except a raised brow in her direction. Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth, she imagined her saying. Rhysand looked as if he might tell her something, but he always turned away at the last moment as if deciding better not.
But she’d asked Feyre once and no… He hadn’t asked for her.
So Nesta asked, innocently, “who?”
As if she hadn’t been waiting to hear her sister say his name over and over again. Elain never did keep to those rules and routines Nesta set out and she was prone to poke and prod sure that Nesta would give in and tell her all about him.
Maybe when they were younger, but not anymore.
Everything had changed since then.
“They were all there this time, and when they got him down the stairs, he wouldn’t stop complaining about being stuck in that tiny room… he kept looking around and that’s how I knew he was looking for you. Even when we all sat, he kept searching.” Elain glanced at her plainly, and Nesta tried to refrain from pulling her knees up to her chest. “I told him you’d left that morning to go the bookstore, so we’ll have to pick up a book before we go home.”
Nesta wanted to argue, but Elain only gave her a look. “And you’ll save some of these pears you’ve stolen.”
“I haven’t stolen anything,” Nesta complained.
“No. You’re just hiding like a coward.”
She was a coward, wasn’t she?
Maybe that’s why she didn’t argue with her sister, even though the pride welled up in her heart to do so. She agreed.
Her little sister certainly didn’t have the right to point fingers, and she might have said that if Elain’s expression was anything but patient. Her sister was as calm as the flowing waters of the Sidra and Nesta had been a coward long before Cassian had ever offered his life.
I can’t face him, she wanted to admit. But it was hard to admit to something she hadn’t voiced aloud, even to herself. She had many words stored inside of her she’d never spoken and it might have been shocking to some for how quickly she angered, all those words tumbling out of her throat.
But when she was angry it was easy to be honest.
Anger made her feel powerful.
This feeling made her feel… fragile. Tiny even.
And, Cassian was large. A little too large in physique, a little too large in personality, and Nesta could only keep up when she was just as mighty. She didn’t trust what she’d do if she felt as fragile as glass. She might say things she never meant to say—do things she never meant to do.
Elain sat back, setting her eyes towards the sun. Nesta contemplated asking her how it felt knowing she had a mate out there, possibly yearning for her. But Elain had always had men yearning for her—always had someone who showed her how immeasurable she was.
Nesta had Tomas, and… nothing about that relationship had turned out well.
She had fae males sometimes look at her now, but it was always with a quick glance her way and then a quick glance to the door as if they were anxious that someone might barge through and tear them limb from limb. Nesta supposed she never found flattery in flirting anyway.
Still, her choices were abysmal and they got smaller every day.
She was teetering in a precarious state of mind. Her mother would have been disappointed with her lack of prospects—her utter lack of will to claim and to conquer. To appease.
Not that it even mattered anymore.
Nesta didn’t know why she kept thinking on it. Those thoughts had left her as soon as she’d turned fifteen and her mother was dead and they were all rotting in a little shovel of a place. When they had money again, Elain had been quick to resume her ways. Being pretty and perfect and sweet. Nesta had only gotten more bitter, and now…
Now she was starting to feel her age, which was stupid since she could live forever.
Or as long as fae lived.
When her mother was gone, Nesta decided that she’d never wanted to be married. It was a trap and marriage was a cage. She already had too many of those. Poverty, was not so gilded as a cushy estate, but it came with obligations and limitations and an uncertainty about the future, and at some point she might have been better off with a ring on her finger and food in her belly. Her sisters would have been better off. But to be married for money? To live and raise a hoard of children, and then die with little true joy to spare.
Not that Nesta was ever truly joyful…
Nesta hadn’t dared to dream of freedom, then. Eldest daughters were obedient, not free. They were powerful… not loved. She was angry, not good.
Nesta couldn’t help but think of Cassian. He’d bothered her every day for weeks when she’d just turned fae. Up on that mountain, there was no reprieve from him. He’d barge in, ready to tear her limb from limb, those words of his always aimed to aggravate. Cassian didn’t leave her alone and there was a certain sort of freedom in the fact that he delighted in her sharpness. She found herself always ready for the challenge. How far could she push until he gave up forever?
Did she want him to give up forever?
“I’m grateful for him, you know,” Elain uttered softly, drawing Nesta from her thoughts. Her sister stared out to the lawn, the beautiful bridge in their view, the little children laughing with life. “I’m glad he was there with you when… everything happened.”
“You were there,” Nesta added, looking to ground, still clasping that grass in her fist and pulling. It might have been the two of them—but it hadn’t been. They hadn’t died together so there was no point in thinking about it anymore.
But Elain shrugged, her eyes a little sad. “I wasn’t there for all of it.”
Nesta knew what she meant, but she wouldn’t let herself think of it. Not her father. Not his words. Not Cassian or the King of Hybern. Not the cauldron that tore out of her limbs and didn’t do a damn thing to save them.
None of it mattered anymore. Only the pain was left.
Elain began to pile the leftovers back into the baskets, stuffing the empty smaller ones inside the larger. She clapped her hands when she was through, wiping away the lingering remnants of their conversation as if it were crumbs.
Nesta wished it was that easy.
Perhaps to Elain it was and when her sister found herself to be composed once more, she smiled sweetly, reaching out a hand. “Let’s go buy that book.”
But Nesta dreaded thinking about going back to that house. She knew once the book was purchased and her sister was satisfied that she wouldn’t be a liar any longer, they’d go back to that townhouse and she’d have to face whatever was left of them—of her.
Her stomach felt queasy and not from the pears. A storm gurgled low in her belly, nausea swept up her throat, sitting on her chest, and there was nothing that waited at that house that might have been worth this ache.
There was nothing she wanted there.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
So, Nesta took Elain’s hand and wiped the dirt off her dress. “I think it’s time to find a place to ourselves.”
~
In the next chapter obviously Nesta and Cassian will have to face each other, and it’s in Cassian’s pov. So we’ll see how that goes. She’s probably going to shrug him off.
I also didn’t make Elain... however she was in acosf. I just made her, you know, the closer sister which... I thought was what she was supposed to be in theory, and then also she’s still the sister who Nesta doesn’t necessarily contend with all that much.
Extra: This has Pregame personalities, at least how I interpret them, in Rantarou’s case he’s jumpy/etc after V2 but overall usually laid back and chill. Though in this Non-Despair timeline things went differently.
More about this specific timeline: Kokichi and Rantarou live close together an attend the same school, Rantarou still has his piercings/rings etc. Prior to this story taking place Rantarou was kidnapped for ransom and was just recently returned. Kokichi has a terrible home life and is bullied at school, Rantarou is one of his few friends and often stands up for him. They’ve known each other since they were children, so they often stick together. Rantarou’s current jumpiness is from the kidnapping.
Rantarou walked out of the apartment building, looking around for a moment before he heard footsteps behind him, which caused him to jump slightly. He stiffened a moment as he heard the person stop and gasp. Once he realized who it was he became a little less tense, playing with the ring on his finger, “H-Hey, Kichi.” He said, turning around.
“T-Taro!” The shorter of the two called out, running over and practically throwing himself into the other’s outstretched arms, burying his face into the taller boy’s shirt. Kokichi’s body shook slightly as he started tearing up, sniffles leaving him, “Y-you’re okay… I-I was s-so worried…”
The taller boy moved his hand up, petting Kokichi’s hair, “I’m so sorry for scaring you… I-”
“T-Taro, i-it’s n-not your f-fault…”
“I know, but… You didn’t have me around and I-”
“N-no…” Kokichi moved his face up so Rantarou could see his lilac orbs, which locked with the other’s green ones, “I-it wasn’t l-l-like y-you wanted t-t-too…”
“You’re right… But still, I’m sorry you were alone.”
The smaller boy only smiled, letting his tears fall, “Just g-g-glad you’re b-back…” He gave Rantarou a squeeze, feeling the other hug him tightly back. After a minute he pulled back, shuffling his feet.
Rantarou ruffled his hair slightly before moving his hand back, “I’m so glad to see you, Kichi, you have no idea.”
“I-I’m g-g-glad.” Kokichi replied, his face tinting pink before he looked down, after a few moments he looked back up and stood up on his toes.
The green haired teen watched for a second before leaning down, his own cheeks tinted a soft pink color, letting their lips meet. He moved his hand and brushed it against Kokichi’s cheek, before rubbing it with his thumb. The shorter of the two leaned into the touch, smiling into their kiss before he pulled back.
“S-sorry for t-t-that, T-Taro…”
“No, you don’t have to apologize, Kichi…” Rantarou said, smiling fondly at the smaller boy, “I-I um… Wanted to ask you something before anyway, I just didn’t get the chance…”
“W-what is it, T-Taro?” Kokichi questioned.
“Well, I-uh… I was wondering if you’d…” The taller male moved his free hand down, he softly bumped the other’s hand with his own before taking it, “W-would you… Would you be my boyfriend?” He questioned, smiling sweetly.
Kokichi’s eyes widened, his face turning a deep red color before he nodded, “S-sure.” He seemed shocked, holding the other male’s hand tightly.
Rantarou beamed, moving his thumb against the back of Kokichi’s hand comfortingly before leaning down for another kiss, which was soon reciprocated. After a few moments they pulled back, looking into each others eyes, smiling and laughing slightly.
“W-w should g-g-get to s-school, T-Taro.”
The taller nodded, moving so they could walk hand-in-hand, giving the other boy’s hand an affectionate squeeze. Kokichi’s free hand gripped the strap of his school bag as he smiled shyly, keeping up the pace so he wouldn’t fall behind. Even if Rantarou had just returned, everything felt like it was falling perfectly into place.
They walked to school in silence, just enjoying the other’s company.
