Chapter Text
Nesta knew that she was far luckier than most women, females. Most wives had to fear that their husbands would strike them if they were displeased. Cassian, she knew, would never hit her even if she deserved it. Though she also knew that her personality was abrasive and impossible to love. Her mother and grandmother had said so often enough during her training that Nesta had no delusions about who she was. Her beauty was only skin deep and even that had always paled in comparison to the softer beauties of society.
Staring at herself in the vanity the House had provided Nesta knew they had been right. Her eyes and cheeks were too sharp. Once an ex-suitor had claimed her eyes were like a winter’s sky, grey and bleak. Lacking any signs of warmth. He had been right of course. Cold disdain fell so easily over her feature.
Nesta tried to pull her lips into the wide smile that Feyre and Mor would wear constantly. Even the small gentle smiles of Elain were out of reach. Her nails would dig into the tender inside of her mouth as she tried to stretch her lips into a joyous grin. It was a routine she had developed when she noticed the way he would light up when one of the other females smiled.
She just did not have a face made for smiling.
It had been expected that her husband would hate her, or at the very least be disinterested in her. Her mother had trained er to impress dignitaries and have male heirs. To expect that her life would be separate and less important that her husband’s. What she hadn’t been prepared for was that she would love her husband. And she did. Nesta loved Cassian in a way that felt like she was drowning most days. Not the cold violent drowning of the Cauldron. Nesta’s love for her mate felt like her heart had torn itself open and she was drowning in her own blood.
Nothing in her life had prepared her to love her husband, she hadn’t been taught what to do when you fell in love with a husband who hates you. It was a tragic fate her mother would click her tongue at when Nesta accompanied her to balls. Fools she had called them. More likely to end up beaten and abandoned for throwing a fit when their husbands stepped out. To love someone who despised you, who was shackled to you in a way only death would let them escape from, only the stupidest of girls would do such a thing.
Nesta had always been too stupid.
Her reflection stared back at her, lips resting in the slight frown they fell into so naturally. The sweat of training this morning made the more rebellious hairs near her temple more difficult the smooth back into her usual coronet. Once Cassian had mentioned that he preferred her hair down. Neta had tried it for a day, but the wind and sweat had tangled the long strands, and she hadn’t been able to tame it back before Morrigan had come by to watch Valkyrie training. Her golden hair had caught the sunlight and Neta watched as Cassian tugged stand joking with her about running all the work she did to curl her hair.
Nesta never wore her hair down again.
It was a fundamental truth that Cassian was too good for her. It was the only good thing she had ever done in her life letting him see how horrid she was so that he would stay away. Of course it didn’t work out that way. Cassian was too good to leave her rot. And slowly she had begun to think that maybe he loved her too. That somehow this warrior who stood for everything good and right saw something in her and loved her for it. The months after their mating ceremony were like something out of one of her romance novels. He showered her with gifts and attention. The brush set made of think engraved bone had been the first of the gifts. The bone comb helped with thicker hair he had whispered into her neck while she tested it would on the ends of a braid.
After the Mask things had been…tense wasn’t the right word. Empty. Things had been empty. Her presence at family diners was no longer mandatory, Cassian spent most of his time in Illyria leaving their bed cold and the training ring quiet. When he was in Velaris he spent most the time with his family. Nesta had always known that once the rush of the accepted bond had cooled that things would go back to how they had been after the war. She was the nightmare at the end of a dream he had carried for centuries. Nesta couldn’t even blame him. She would hate to be mated to her too.
Those same feelings from after the war would sometimes creep up on her in the emptiness of the House. Only now there were 10,000 steps between her and something to numb herself with. And she would rather peel off her own skin then let another male touch her. Instead she sat in emptiness and anger. Useless anger that she turned on herself more often than she did at anyone else anymore. Lashing out had gotten her threatened with exile back before she had given away an item of the trove. She imaged now the punishment would be far harsher.
Spring was coming slowly to Velaris the mountains still clinging to the end of winter. It creeped into the crack the House had left out in the shutters. “Please close the windows.” Her request when unanswered. Nesta knew that even if she got up to shut them herself the wood would not budge. The house had been refusing to let her sit in this room each night. Tonight would be no different with the House pushing her not to skip meals.
With a resigned sign Nesta shoved the last pin into place, the metal scratching across her scalp, and headed for the dining room.
----
Love, Nesta found, was a poison.
One she drank of willingly when Cassian entered the dining room for the first time in months. Heavy footfall announced his presence, but Nesta was always acutely aware of when he was close by. He looked the same, thick wind-swept curls pulled away from his face by a bun. His eyes still burned with some inner light that Nesta could never touch but captivated her anyway. Gold and greens blending in a way that reveled his every thought.
Those same eyes went darker when they looked at her, seated to the side of the dining room table. Nesta always left he head of the table open for him. A lesson from her mother that she had fallen back on now that her marriage was something she was more familiar with. Nesta felt his eyes on her, tracing down her face and neck, as if it was his calloused hands on her skin. Heat flashed through her like a rising sun.
He didn’t sit immediately. Hand grasping the back of the chair he dragged those golden green eyes over every inch of her that could be seen above the table. His voice was like loose rocks on the mountain side when he finally spoke. Rough and oddly so fragile Neta knew that any pressure would have her tumbling off a ledge with no bottom. “Hello Nes.”
The nickname rolled over her like ice. She had never liked nicknames before. Had never been offered one until he shorted her name with a smile that set her alight. Nes, Sweetheart, Zemer-that one she did not know the meaning of. She assumed something dirty the way Emerie would blush the few times she heard him whisper it.
Slightly chapped lips twitched trying to pull themselves into the smile she had practiced in the mirror. It hurt a little, but he was here, to have dinner with her, and she could put in the effort to be more they type he preferred. Nesta could make this a nice dinner where they put the past few months behind them and got back to when she had been in his good graces. Cinnamon and buttercups mingled with his scent filling the small space between them when he finally moved to take his seat next to her.
The smile fell from her face before it could fully form.
---
When Cassian had first been brought to Velaris as a child he thought he was dreaming. Had done everything he could not to mess up and be sent back to the hollowed-out tree trunk he had found shelter in. Had made sure he stood so straight that his bones ached, stayed silent to not say the wrong thing. He hadn’t wanted the dream to slip thought his fingers.
Now standing in the same dining room he had eaten meals at for hundreds of years staring at the female the Fates had hand chosen for him Cassian felt like that little boy all over again. Only this time he was failing. Her silence echoed around them. Proof that any connection he had thought they had been building had been tore away by the arrival of Bryce Fucking Quinlin.
Cauldron how he wished she had never fallen into their world. Or that he and Nesta had been tucked away in his cabin in Illyria- he had been meaning to show it to her-, or the Continent or even the Spring Court would have been better than being here. Standing in the aftermath.
Silence heavier than he had ever experienced choked them.
Mor had been dragging him out any chance she could. Either Rita’s or the River House and he had been happy to go along with her. This time he was the one who needed the distraction. Nesta had been acting so differently since the mask. If he didn’t know her better he would say she was calmer. But it wasn’t calm it was…. he couldn’t put a word to it. Tired, empty, nothing felt right. This was a side of her he had never seen. It made him feel helpless in a way that he had never felt even when they had been at their worst.
The House tried to help. Bless it. It would move whatever book she was reading into his study so she would have to see him. Once he had walked through a door he knew led to the kitchen only to walk into the library Nesta had claimed as her own. Words had locked in his throat as he watched her nap on the couch, open book resting in her lap. The scene was too peaceful for him to disturb her. He suspected that the House was purposefully keeping it chilly so that he would get to hold her at night. Though he made sure that he was gone long before she woke up. Cassian wasn’t sure if his heart could handle feeling her tense up in his arms when she realized who was holding her.
Tonight the House offered him a chance to feed her. In the center of the table sat a large bowl of noodles with slices of beef and seasonal vegetables. A dish from Dawn Court that Nesta loved had tried to hide how she went for seconds the first time the House had served it. Cassian would eat it every night if he got to watch that small joy spark in her eyes. The empty plates in front of them let him serve her, making sure to give her over half the slices of roasted squash that he knew she favored. Any little thing to reconnect with her.
“Thank you.” Measured, polite, and unfeeling. The same way her responses had been for months now. None of the usual fire behind her words but they seared through him nonetheless.
Lately Mor had been telling him he hadn’t done anything wrong and that Nesta would come around. Rhys, when he could be pulled away from Feyre and Nyx, agreed. Reminding him that Nesta was always difficult, but he had won her before, and this time wouldn’t be any different. Nothing they said sat right with him, but Cassian didn’t know what to say to refute them. Couldn’t figure out how to explain that something was wrong even with the truth hanging around their words like a noose.
The House didn’t offer any wine or whiskey, only water. Another thing that sat wrong with him that he couldn’t figure out how to voice. There were many times he thought of them sharing a drink before the fire, Nesta reading her latest book while he simple watched her, but the House had never lifted the no alcohol rule. Maybe, maybe Nesta wasn’t as over her crutch as he thought she was. It had worry turning in his gut. Nesta needed him to remind her not to fall back on old habits. And instead he had left her in the House hoping that space would let her short through what she needed to so they could move on.
Cassian watched her form over the rim of his glass. Her back was so straight he could press a sword against her spine, and they would come out even. It looked painful. Noodles and bits of meat had been pushed around her plate. Cassian couldn’t tell if she had even taken a bite yet. Another crutch he thought they had moved past. Another issue he couldn’t find the words to address.
Silence sat heavy between them. Almost chocking him. They needed to talk but this had moved so far beyond her giving the Mask to Bryce and risking her safety and the court’s. Something deeper had shifted in Nesta. This silence didn’t feel like a punishment like it had last year. No it didn’t remind him of when she had been spitting venom at anyone who got close enough. Cassian refused to let the thought fully form but the feeling of mountain wind and the sounds of shuffle feet on lose gravel played in his mind. It wasn’t the same. Cassian was positive the bond would have warned him if his mate were slipping back into the dark place.
Cassian lost any appetite he had had. Maybe he would meet up with the rest of the family at the River House after dinner after all. Anything to fill this aching silence.
But he had to try. ‘Keep reaching your hand out.’ It had been the mantra he lived by before their mating ceremony. Maybe he would always have to be the one reaching out first. Until Nesta learned she could as well.
“Did you have a good day?” Even to his own ears his voice sounded flat.
Nesta didn’t slam her silverware against the wood of the table, but the quiet precise way she placed her fork down was as loud as if she had. “I think I’m done for the night. If I may be excused.” Her eyes never met his. Instead they looked just to the right of his face where he knew the door was.
“You don’t have to…never mind. I lost my apatite anyway. Rhys and Feyre need me down at the River House. I’ll be home late.” A lie and they both knew it. Lying was not in his repertoire. He got up to leave before he could see if she had processed the words. He didn’t want to see if she would care or not. Cassian had no idea how to handle this Nesta. Spitting venom and fire, dragging her claws down someone. That was his Nesta when she had been wrong-even when she was the one in the wrong- this quiet reserved polite version of her left him off footed. He hoped a night flight and some time with his favorite nephew would help clear his head. He needed a game plan.
Because tomorrow all of this came to an end. Even if they had to go back out to the mountains and tear each other apart they would fix this.
----
Nesta sat at the table long after the house had removed all of dishes. The sound of Cassian’s boots still ringing in her ears. If this was one of her novels she would have run after him before his feet had left the stone balcony. Cassian would have taken her into his arms and all for the things that hadn’t said to each other would have been relayed in an earth-shattering kiss.
But Nesta had learned very young that her life was vastly different form the protagonist in her novels. Clearly Feyre was the lead, as she should be, with an epic tale of sacrifice and bravery ending with a loving husband and sweet child. Nesta’s part was to be the hero’s tragic backstory, not a villain but close enough.
Nesta sat still and straight in her chair until her bones ached when she finally found the strength to move. Realization hung heavy off of her weary body, Nesta knew that this couldn’t continue. The family was staring to have that same look of disappointment they had when she would be dragged to diner smelling of wine and males. Once again she was acting out of line to what was expected of her. Nesta wondered if there would ever be a time when she was not a constant failure as a mate, a sister, a warrior. As a person…as a fae.
Her hands curled into fist against the table, nails scratching into the wood. Deep down Nesta knew she had been right. Knew that the only hope Bryce’s world had- that all their worlds had- was the Mask. She had done exactly what she thought Feyre would have done, what Cassian would have done. Something had gone wrong though. She had to have miscalculated because everyone was treating her like she had done the wrong thing. Nesta needed to apologize but she didn’t know how, didn’t know what she was apologizing for.
As a rule Nesta didn’t lie. Found it a waste of time but it made apologizing difficult of course. How was she supposed to apologize when she didn’t think she had done anything wrong. The patterns in the grains of wood did not reveal any insight into the problem.
The sweet like smell of honey and musky tickled her nose when the House let a breeze dance through the open window. More often than not when Cassian did come home he smelled like the blond female. Morrigan was his sister, he had called her that over and over again. Never once had any other scent clung to his skin when the blonde was around, Nesta was very familiar with the smell of Cassian’s arousal. But Feyre had told her about the short-lived affair that the two of them had when they had been younger. Giggled about how it must have been hilarious to watch Cassian chase after Mor as teenagers. Nesta had merely nodded along watching as Morrigan threw he legs over Cassian’s lap and laughed.
Morrigan had no issue saying sorry. She would do it with a soft smile and a gentle hand and then everyone moved on. Cassian always seemed so grateful when she did. So in awe of her humility.
Feyre and Morrigan were the females that Cassian most admired. That the family all loved and gathered around. Warm and welcoming. She just needed to imitate their behavior.
Nesta allowed a small crack to open in her mental shields. ‘Feyre?’ She had never mentally called out to her sister before. Cassian had tried to explain it once, but he kept a small opening in his shields for Rhys- and now Feyre- to enter whenever they needed to. Nesta found the whole thing horrifyingly violating and spent each morning reinforcing her shields.
Surprise that wasn’t her own flooded her mind, ‘Nesta, is everything okay?’ it had her pulling back from the table hard enough her chair clattered to the floor.
The sound of her sister’s voice in her head was always surreal. As if her own thoughts had taken on the voice of her youngest sister. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
Nesta focused on straightening up the chairs in the dining room before she moved through the House towards the room she shared with her mate. A pair of slightly worn boots sat at the bottom of the armoire. Cassian had made a comment about them weeks ago, but they were the only shoes she owned that didn’t cause her feet to blister when she walked down the stairs.
Her footsteps echoed in the empty space, and she walked the winding halls back to her bedroom.
Feyre sounded distracted when she finally did answer. ‘You never reach out.’ They would be sitting down to dinner at her sister’s place by now. Family dinner. Cassian had left to join them because she was too miserable to be around. It reinforced her decision. Feyre and Morrigan. Apologetic and open. She could…she could be those things.
‘Sorry.’ Pine, sweetgrass, and the smell Nesta associated with the sun warming a winter’s day flooded her senses as she sat on Cassian’s side of the bed to help lace up her walking boots. Mother, she missed being wrapped up in that smell. Was so grateful that in the weeks since the Mask incident it hadn’t faded from their bed. Beside her the winter coat Gwyn had given her for Solstice appeared. The coat was a lovely thing of long panels of thick blue fabric with golden embroidery and a high collar.
‘Is everything okay?’ Her apology must have been startling to Feyre. Or she hadn’t been able to keep her thoughts as separate from the conversation with her sister as she had thought.
For a moment Nesta sat on the bed with the coat draped over her lap. Her fingers running along the symbols emborder into the wool. Cassian had explained that Illyrian wards marks were sewn into the design. He had spent the day after the snowball fight going over them with her. Teaching her what they meant. ‘I was hoping I could stop by. I need to speak to Cassian. To everyone’
In her mind Feyre’s voice softened was almost hopeful. ‘You don’t have to ask. You are always welcome.’
----
Sweat had beaded along her hair line. It chilled her skin where the spring wind brushed against her. Her body ached. Form the cold that reminded her of her water so black it was like living ink, or the three hours it took to make it down the stairs when last month’s chill still clung to the stones making them slick. It could also be that Nesta hadn’t been eating as she should. Training didn’t stop just because the others were still contemplating her punishment, but she couldn’t keep anything down and found herself skipping meals more easily with Cassian no longer monitoring what she ate every day.
By the time she had made it to the front door of her sister’s mansion the streets on their side of town were empty of the normal fae milling around. Most of the houses were quiet and dark. It was later then she had thought it would be.
“It’s nice of you to finally came by.” The warmth that had been in her sister’s voice mere hours ago was gone. Feyre stood surrounded by the soft light coming from the River House’s entryway. It brought out the gold in her hair.
Nesta took in the sheer black house rob she wore over the blue night gown. Feyre’s hair was braided over her shoulder with strands escaping to frame her face. Outside of official meetings Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her sister without paint staining some part of her skin. Feyre had always wanted to spend her days painting.
“You are in your night clothes.” Nesta fought back the cringe that crawled up her spine at how flat her voice sounded. Could see the way her sister was hit by the words, by her tone. Nesta hated that all she spewed was vitriol to the person she owed the most too. It was painfully obvious that Feyre was the only reason she had not been led to the gallows or rotting in the Prison.
“Yes, well it’s been hours since you asked to come over. I started to assume you had changed your mind.” Irritation was clear in Feyre’s voice. She had never been one who kept her feelings to herself.
Without her control Nesta own irritation rose to meet Feyre’s. Guilt smothered by anger so easily Nesta doubted if she had ever felt guilty at all. No one else had ever been able to set her off the way her sister did. Cassian came close. Despite all that she knew she owed Feyre. Maybe she was truly fated to only hurt those who never gave up on her- even when they should. “It takes three hours to make it down the stairs.” Her stomach clenched saying it out loud. ‘I can’t leave my own house without a three-hour hike’ She was the monster on the hill tucked away so that the citizens of Velaris were safe but close enough that Feyre was happy.
Feyre reached out a hand to touch her arm. The contact burned. “I didn’t know that. You should have told me. I would have sent someone to get you.” Nesta didn’t want to image who her sister would have sent. She doubted either Cassian or Rhys would have left the warmth and comfort of a family gathering to fetch her.
Nesta wasn’t sure if Azriel was back from his last mission or not. Wasn’t sure where he stood.
Even still, “I don’t need to be escorted out of my own home.” Nesta pulled away from her sister.
“Of course...” Feyre’s hands fluttered like scared birds. Her irritation fleeing at the reality Nesta correctly assumed no one thought about. “Do you want some tea?”
Portraits lined the hall Feyre left Nesta in. Beautifully detailed works of family members staring at the viewer. Others were scenes where Nesta assumed Feyre had either witnessed or been shown form a member of the inner circle. Snowy landscapes disrupted by snowball fights, Morrigan dancing while colored fae lights blurred and lit up the background, another of Morrigan in full battle regalia fighting alongside human soldiers. The first human war if Nesta had to guess. She looked beautiful, long blond hair caught in the wind like a cape, armor gleaming in the sun, and her signature red lips pulled back in a confident smile. It wasn’t surprising why everyone loved Morrigan so much. She was just so much more.
Further down the hall was her picture. Tucked between portraits of her sisters. Feyre had done a fantastic job with it. Wind and mud and sweat crawled along her skin every time she looked at it. Pride too. For the time she had been finally willing to sacrifice for the people important to her. She had wanted to live in that moment, probably the first time she could remember having that desire. She had wanted to live but was fully prepared to die if it meant that Gwyn and Emerie would reach the top and get to safety.
Bloody and mud streaked the painted version of herself stare back at Nesta. Scowl in place.
“Here. It probably isn’t as good as the kind Rhys makes.” The sound of her sister’s voice startled her. pulling her away from the mountain top and the thoughts that were too dangerous for her to explore. Neta took the offered tea automatically, ands reaching for the warmed porcelain. Mint and lemon wafted in the air.
“Where are the others?” Nesta cut in before Feyre could comment on the painting she had been staring at. She was never quite sure how to express the feeling of one of her most traumatizing moments immortalized. Touched that she had finally earned a place on her sister’s wall but still horrified to have to relive that week every time she came for dinner.
If Feyre noticed she didn’t mention it. “Nyx and Elain are asleep. Mor and Cassian are out at the Rainbow.”
Feyre kept talking but all Neste heard was the rushing of wind and blood in her ears. She wasn’t jealous. Her mother had trained her too well to be. It was the anticipation the waiting that was killing her that slow slide into the inevitable. A babe would postpone it.. unlike the men of her old village she knew that Cassian would be a devoted father. The idea revolted her. Not because he would not be an amazing father, but she would be a horrid mother. The proof startlingly clear by right of her even thinking something so like her own mother.
A portrait of her mate caught her eye. Golden hazel eyes crinkled at the ends; he was laughing at something. Mouth stretched so wide Nesta had always wondered if it ever hurt to smile like that. She truly was a wretch. Cassian would never have an affair, no matter his feelings towards her he was a male of honor and loyalty.
“Nesta…” She had forgotten that Feyre still stood next to her. Could she feel her emotions as well as hear her thoughts? Layers of steel encased her mind that small gap she had made to call for her sister sealed shut. Nesta did not need Feyre to learn the horrid things she thought about Cassian. It was her shame and guilt alone.
“I’m sorry to bother you. I will wait for Cassian at the House.” The walk home would help her decide what she wanted to say time him. If he was in any condition to speak with her. They needed to clear the air. Nesta wasn’t mad he hated her, understood it. In comparison to the other females in his life why would he think of someone like her fondly at all. But she could not go on receiving his small gestures of kindness and empty affection. They did not need to put on a show for anyone. No one would blame him.
“Is everything okay? I know things have been tense.” Feyre might, if only because appearances had become so important to her sister. Her sister deserved to have the happy family she wanted. After everything she had delt with, everything Nesta had put her through. She amended the conversation she would have with Cassian in her mind. In public they would act as the loving mated pair her sister wanted to see. Feyre did not need to know the hard truth of marriage.
Nesta handed the teacup back to Feyre. Ignoring the sad concern look that graced her sister’s face. “It’s fine. I won’t cause a scene. I’m just going home.” Feyre followed her back to the front entrance; the teacup left on an antique looking table.
“That’s not what I was…”
Whatever Feyre was going to say was cut off by the scene on the other side of the front door. Mor was draped over Cassian in a way Nesta had seen after many family dinners. His large arms- arms Nesta knew intimately- were wrapped around her keeping her upright and pressed against him. All Nesta could see was the smear of that signature red across Cassian’s lips when he jerked away from the blond.
The words left her mouth before she could think of them, “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
She was halfway down the street before she had even realized her body had moved. Hands of inky black water dug into her chest and filled her lungs. She couldn’t breathe.
“You stupid stupid girl.” Her mother’s voice chased her down the street.