❁✿❁

Feyre sent an invitation for her first anniversary party as she did for every other occasion. The only thing different was that Nesta never bothered to pay heed to her invitations before. After the day in the alley, however, she decided she was going to turn over a new leaf. This was her first step.

She checked her reflection on the side-mirror. She tried to keep her outfit and make-up as simple as possible. She only wore a white ruffled-sleeved blouse with a black pencil skirt. Her hair was braided into a coronet. She looked good, but not as good as she’ll look if she took her own time to do a detailed make-over. She let out a breath and braced herself for the inevitable little chat with her sisters.

“Nesta?” a bewildered voice breathed. She whirled around to face her younger sister, Elain, looking up at her, a small smile playing about her lips. “You’re here,” she said and flung her arms around Nesta. Nesta automatically wrapped her arms around Elain’s smaller frame. Eventually, Elain pulled back.

“No offense, but I really thought you wouldn’t be coming,” Elain said.

Nesta felt as if the smile on her face couldn't be wiped out for the next few hours. “Honestly, I didn't think I'd come either. But here I am.”

She nodded and pulled Nesta to the garden the party was held at.

“I did this,” Elain said. “This garden, I planted and groomed all this.”

“No wonder why it looks so beautiful,” Nesta replied.

She flushed and said contemplatively, “You're so different now, Nesta.”

“I hope in a good way. Where's Feyre?”

“Let's go meet everyone first.”

Nesta shook her head. “I— I need to talk to both of you before I meet everyone else. ”

Elain hesitated then said, “Can you wait in that room? I'll fetch Feyre and come.”

Nesta nodded and headed to the door at the end of the garden Elain pointed at. The room was classy, much like the exterior of the house. She was struck by the simple yet grand theme of Feyre's house. She knew he and his brothers were rich but she just didn't understand the extent of their wealth. Till now.

“What are you thinking?” Feyre wasn't the type to blindly trust people. It took more than coming for her anniversary to persuade her that Nesta's intentions were good.

Nesta faced Feyre, her youngest sister, who stood before her, gorgeous yet fierce in a simple but elegant blue gown. She shrugged, “Just thinking that I'm glad my sisters were well-provided when I couldn't take care of them.”

Feyre’s face didn’t change, she just gestured towards the couches. “Have a seat,” she said.

Nesta sat down, “You both look splendid,” she said. Feyre said that the gown was a gift, Elain thanked Nesta and offered the same.

Nesta cleared her throat. “I need to tell the both of you something. Many things, actually.”

Elain nodded encouragingly. Feyre said, “Go on.”

So Nesta spoke. She apologised. For how she wasn't there to fulfill the role of an elder sister. For how she failed to attend Feyre's marriage and many other occasions. For all the rude words she spoke to them. For shunning them. She apologised for being self consumed. For everything else.

She also promised. To try harder. To become better. To be a good sister and sister-in-law. To be with them at all times, especially when they needed her. And they listened.

“I know these words aren't enough, but I'll try to make it so,” she finished, her hands clasped with both her sisters on her sides.

“You said you'll try, Nesta. We will too,” Feyre said.

“I see a very bright future ahead of us,” Elain said.

Nesta couldn't help the tears anymore. She folded her arms around her sisters and tucked them close. Her sisters. Her beloved sisters she now knew she'd do anything to protect.

“I see a very bright future too,” Nesta said.

Nesta pulled back after what felt like an hour and looked at her sisters' tear-streaked faces.

“I love you,” the three of them said simultaneously. Nesta giggled. Elain laughed. Feyre stared.

Nesta gently brushed the tears from both of their cheeks. “I don't want to see any of you crying.”

She hugged them again, willing the hug to convey everything she didn't say out loud.

“Now, now, enough snuggling. We've got a party to attend and people to meet, remember?” Feyre said.

***

Cassian was anxious. He had always hoped Nesta, his sister-in-law, would come for the gatherings they had; be it family dinners, or birthday parties, or the random meetings they had when they just got tipsy and played games. He hadn't seen her face-to-face before. All he knows about Nesta are from the descriptions from Feyre and Elain. That, too, was minimal. One of them would quickly change the topic to something pleasant the moment traces of an emotional breakdown were visible. Every time he hoped, he was let down. She never came. He vowed he would stop hoping and instead just go about and act as if she didn't exist. But that never happened. Every time his family met, his treacherous heart would start hoping only to have a chunk of it fall off when she failed to attend. Today was no different.

Then there’s the woman who he’d been talking to the whole afternoon. He was a tangled up mess of emotions and doubt and confusion. He had been sort-of pining after Nesta. She was exactly the person he’d like. Apparently she was drop-dead gorgeous, witty and… feral. Feyre said that. Feral. She’d be someone worth seeing. She was totally a worthy opponent. It’d be fun. But the other woman? Mother above, she was ethereal. More than ethereal, in fact. Words can't contain what he had to say about her.

He was damn near killing Az for calling him right when they were about to exchange names. He really can't believe he was a hairsbreadth away from knowing her before it was all ripped away. Now they were back to square one. He didn't know anything about her.

Azriel clapped him on his back so hard that he almost stumbled and fell. Or probably that was because he was too distracted. “All good Somm?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he replied noncommittally. He busied his hands with re-rinsing the champagne flutes and wiping them clean again. He did this two times already. Still.

“Mood is sour today, Cass?” Az teased, mock-frowning.

“Nah,” Cassian said wryly, “it's as sweet as honeydew. Especially today, when my chat got interrupted.” He glared at Azriel.

“Now, now, that is a story for another day. For now though, I think I've got something that can cheer up your brooding self.”

“What is it?” he mumbled.

Az grinned. “Nesta is here.”

***

Feyre and Elain took Nesta on a quick tour around the house. Feyre’s paintings were hung on the walls throughout the whole house. Nesta grimly noticed that there wasn't a single picture of her. There were even paintings of their father whose heart had long stopped beating. But none of hers. If only she didn’t push herself away, Nesta would’ve been a happy part of her sisters’ lives.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Feyre took her hand in hers. Elain tucked herself to Nesta’s side, wrapping her arms over her slender shoulders.

Nesta already met Mor, a stunning blonde woman, and Amren, a slightly intimidating and short person. Now she only had to meet her brother-in-laws.

“Let’s go meet the boys!” Elain said brightly.

We walked back to the garden. Feyre seemed to get more and more elated the closer we got to the garden. Huh. Probably falling in love would do that to someone. Anyway, as long as her sisters were happy.

They stepped through the doorway. The garden was decorated with more banners and streamers hung on the back of chairs and on the low branches. Again, it looked opulent in a simple way.

There were three men in the centre of the garden, gathered around a table. They all were slightly similar, broad shouldered, tapered waists, muscular limbs. Three of them wore formal shirts and pants clinging to their frames. The one in the middle was Rhysand, she supposed. She smirked internally. Of course Feyre ended up with this guy. She's got a good taste. Must've gotten it from the oldest sister.

The one on the right, though. His figure felt familiar. Very, very familiar. She couldn't quite put a finger on it yet.

“The one on the left is Azriel, the one on the right is Cassian,” Feyre said, and Nesta nodded.

The boys must be really engrossed with their conversation. They hadn't noticed the three of them yet.

The guy she thought was familiar threw his head back and laughed. She gasped. That laugh. She'd know the laugh anywhere. Indeed, when he angled his face so that she could get a glimpse, she knew she was done for. She swallowed with much difficulty.

“I need to go,” she said quickly.

“Go? But— but we haven't cut the cake yet. It's still early. We've got lots more fun stuff,” Elain said.

“You said you'll try, Nesta. Only, this doesn't feel like 'trying',” Feyre said.

They sounded… hurt.

Mother above, I'm doing this wrong.

“Nesta?” Elain asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah,” Feyre added, “you look pale.”

“Y-yeah it's f-fine. Kinda. My head hurts,” she said, accidentally clutching her stomach. “I-I mean, yeah my head hurts. Very badly. I gotta go.” She looked helplessly at both of them. “I'm so sorry. I really am. It's just— I think I need rest. I'll recompense. Probably dinner in three days?” They both shared a look and agreed.

Nesta was already walking away. “Love you both,” she threw over her shoulder.

***

“Feyre!” Rhys called. He beckoned Feyre and Elain to the table. He didn't see Nesta.

Cassian lightly kissed Feyre on her cheek once they made their way to the table and said, “Gorgeous as always. Happy anniversary!”

Feyre grinned, but it showed traces of disappointment.

He frowned. “Hey, what's wrong?”

She just shook her head and mumbled, “Nesta.” Rhys's face hardened. His brother was never fond of Nesta. He said that she was why Feyre was always worried.

“Where's Nesta?” Az asked, craning his neck to see behind farther.

“She… left,” Elain pointed, revealing a figure disappearing behind the gates. A figure he knew all too well. Shitshitshitshit.

His head snapped back to his brothers. “That is Nesta?” he damn near shouted.

Rhys scowled, “Yeah.”

No wonder why she's so beautiful, he thought dumbly before running after her with a quick “I'll be back.”

***

Nesta was wrong. In all her happiness of being reunited with her sisters, she completely forgot how even a small thing can break one's smile. She felt like she couldn't breathe. She kept her calm demeanour, but inside, she was a raging storm of emotions.

One step in front of the other, she kept reminding herself.

She kept walking. Even when she heard footsteps. Even when the steps got louder. Even as he got close enough to cease running.

But not when he called her name. She halted. Locked up her emotions. She knew she shouldn't but she turned around anyway.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“Nesta,” he breathed. She tried to hold back her shudder. It was from the night air, she told herself.

“If you have nothing to say, do let me know. I'm not going to wait forever,” she said. Harsher than she intended to. But she didn't care, at least, that's what she told herself.

Cassian winked, “I'm honored you came, sweetheart. I'll pass the credit to my influence on you. ”

She ground her teeth against the truth threatening to fall off her lips. Yes, I came here because you made me happy. And I thought that if I tried, as I did with you, I can rebuild my relationship with my sisters.

***

Cassian did something stupid. He grabbed her hand. Her eyes snapped to his, burning with anger. Like the day they first met.

He gave her a crooked grin that he knew would drive her mad. Well, more than she already was. He tilted his head to the garden, “The party is that way, love.”

She snatched back her hand at continued walking. Like a fool, he followed. “I spoke to my sisters. Told them I won't be staying tonight. And that we'll have dinner in three day's time. Does that satisfy you? Now, can you stop following me?”

“Something's wrong. What's wrong, Nes?”

“One,” she ground out, “don't call me that. Two, I'm a grown-ass woman; I know how to take care of myself. I don't need a babysitter.”

“You did. That day,” he said quietly.

She whirled on him, “Is this you taking back favours? Because I'm not interested. You want money? Take it. Tell me your price and fucking take it! Don't tread on my heels because you helped me, okay? I've got way better things to do.” She paused, “And don't follow me, Cassian.”

She turned and stalked away.

You want money? Take it. 'Take it.' As if he were a beggar, asking for alms. As if they weren't laughing at each other's jokes not more than an hour ago. As if he didn't spend a week taking care of her as if she were a part of his soul. Maybe she was.

But that was before, Cassian thought as his heart cleaved into two perfect halves. No— it smashed to a million tiny pieces.

He waited till Nesta was out of his line of sight. He turned and walked back to the garden, leaving his heart behind.

Feyre sent an invitation for her first anniversary party as she did for every other occasion. The only thing different was that Nesta never bothered to pay heed to her invitations before. After the day in the alley, however, she decided she was going to turn over a new leaf. This was her first step.

She checked her reflection on the side-mirror. She tried to keep her outfit and make-up as simple as possible. She only wore a white ruffled-sleeved blouse with a black pencil skirt. Her hair was braided into a coronet. She looked good, but not as good as she’ll look if she took her own time to do a detailed make-over. She let out a breath and braced herself for the inevitable little chat with her sisters.

“Nesta?” a bewildered voice breathed. She whirled around to face her younger sister, Elain, looking up at her, a small smile playing about her lips. “You’re here,” she said and flung her arms around Nesta. Nesta automatically wrapped her arms around Elain’s smaller frame. Eventually, Elain pulled back.

“No offense, but I really thought you wouldn’t be coming,” Elain said.

Nesta felt as if the smile on her face couldn't be wiped out for the next few hours. “Honestly, I didn't think I'd come either. But here I am.”

She nodded and pulled Nesta to the garden the party was held at.

“I did this,” Elain said. “This garden, I planted and groomed all this.”

“No wonder why it looks so beautiful,” Nesta replied.

She flushed and said contemplatively, “You're so different now, Nesta.”

“I hope in a good way. Where's Feyre?”

“Let's go meet everyone first.”

Nesta shook her head. “I— I need to talk to both of you before I meet everyone else. ”

Elain hesitated then said, “Can you wait in that room? I'll fetch Feyre and come.”

Nesta nodded and headed to the door at the end of the garden Elain pointed at. The room was classy, much like the exterior of the house. She was struck by the simple yet grand theme of Feyre's house. She knew he and his brothers were rich but she just didn't understand the extent of their wealth. Till now.

“What are you thinking?” Feyre wasn't the type to blindly trust people. It took more than coming for her anniversary to persuade her that Nesta's intentions were good.

Nesta faced Feyre, her youngest sister, who stood before her, gorgeous yet fierce in a simple but elegant blue gown. She shrugged, “Just thinking that I'm glad my sisters were well-provided when I couldn't take care of them.”

Feyre’s face didn’t change, she just gestured towards the couches. “Have a seat,” she said.

Nesta sat down, “You both look splendid,” she said. Feyre said that the gown was a gift, Elain thanked Nesta and offered the same.

Nesta cleared her throat. “I need to tell the both of you something. Many things, actually.”

Elain nodded encouragingly. Feyre said, “Go on.”

So Nesta spoke. She apologised. For how she wasn't there to fulfill the role of an elder sister. For how she failed to attend Feyre's marriage and many other occasions. For all the rude words she spoke to them. For shunning them. She apologised for being self consumed. For everything else.

She also promised. To try harder. To become better. To be a good sister and sister-in-law. To be with them at all times, especially when they needed her. And they listened.

“I know these words aren't enough, but I'll try to make it so,” she finished, her hands clasped with both her sisters on her sides.

“You said you'll try, Nesta. We will too,” Feyre said.

“I see a very bright future ahead of us,” Elain said.

Nesta couldn't help the tears anymore. She folded her arms around her sisters and tucked them close. Her sisters. Her beloved sisters she now knew she'd do anything to protect.

“I see a very bright future too,” Nesta said.

Nesta pulled back after what felt like an hour and looked at her sisters' tear-streaked faces.

“I love you,” the three of them said simultaneously. Nesta giggled. Elain laughed. Feyre stared.

Nesta gently brushed the tears from both of their cheeks. “I don't want to see any of you crying.”

She hugged them again, willing the hug to convey everything she didn't say out loud.

“Now, now, enough snuggling. We've got a party to attend and people to meet, remember?” Feyre said.

***

Cassian was anxious. He had always hoped Nesta, his sister-in-law, would come for the gatherings they had; be it family dinners, or birthday parties, or the random meetings they had when they just got tipsy and played games. He hadn't seen her face-to-face before. All he knows about Nesta are from the descriptions from Feyre and Elain. That, too, was minimal. One of them would quickly change the topic to something pleasant the moment traces of an emotional breakdown were visible. Every time he hoped, he was let down. She never came. He vowed he would stop hoping and instead just go about and act as if she didn't exist. But that never happened. Every time his family met, his treacherous heart would start hoping only to have a chunk of it fall off when she failed to attend. Today was no different.

Then there’s the woman who he’d been talking to the whole afternoon. He was a tangled up mess of emotions and doubt and confusion. He had been sort-of pining after Nesta. She was exactly the person he’d like. Apparently she was drop-dead gorgeous, witty and… feral. Feyre said that. Feral. She’d be someone worth seeing. She was totally a worthy opponent. It’d be fun. But the other woman? Mother above, she was ethereal. More than ethereal, in fact. Words can't contain what he had to say about her.

He was damn near killing Az for calling him right when they were about to exchange names. He really can't believe he was a hairsbreadth away from knowing her before it was all ripped away. Now they were back to square one. He didn't know anything about her.

Azriel clapped him on his back so hard that he almost stumbled and fell. Or probably that was because he was too distracted. “All good Somm?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he replied noncommittally. He busied his hands with re-rinsing the champagne flutes and wiping them clean again. He did this two times already. Still.

“Mood is sour today, Cass?” Az teased, mock-frowning.

“Nah,” Cassian said wryly, “it's as sweet as honeydew. Especially today, when my chat got interrupted.” He glared at Azriel.

“Now, now, that is a story for another day. For now though, I think I've got something that can cheer up your brooding self.”

“What is it?” he mumbled.

Az grinned. “Nesta is here.”

***

Feyre and Elain took Nesta on a quick tour around the house. Feyre’s paintings were hung on the walls throughout the whole house. Nesta grimly noticed that there wasn't a single picture of her. There were even paintings of their father whose heart had long stopped beating. But none of hers. If only she didn’t push herself away, Nesta would’ve been a happy part of her sisters’ lives.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Feyre took her hand in hers. Elain tucked herself to Nesta’s side, wrapping her arms over her slender shoulders.

Nesta already met Mor, a stunning blonde woman, and Amren, a slightly intimidating and short person. Now she only had to meet her brother-in-laws.

“Let’s go meet the boys!” Elain said brightly.

We walked back to the garden. Feyre seemed to get more and more elated the closer we got to the garden. Huh. Probably falling in love would do that to someone. Anyway, as long as her sisters were happy.

They stepped through the doorway. The garden was decorated with more banners and streamers hung on the back of chairs and on the low branches. Again, it looked opulent in a simple way.

There were three men in the centre of the garden, gathered around a table. They all were slightly similar, broad shouldered, tapered waists, muscular limbs. Three of them wore formal shirts and pants clinging to their frames. The one in the middle was Rhysand, she supposed. She smirked internally. Of course Feyre ended up with this guy. She's got a good taste. Must've gotten it from the oldest sister.

The one on the right, though. His figure felt familiar. Very, very familiar. She couldn't quite put a finger on it yet.

“The one on the left is Azriel, the one on the right is Cassian,” Feyre said, and Nesta nodded.

The boys must be really engrossed with their conversation. They hadn't noticed the three of them yet.

The guy she thought was familiar threw his head back and laughed. She gasped. That laugh. She'd know the laugh anywhere. Indeed, when he angled his face so that she could get a glimpse, she knew she was done for. She swallowed with much difficulty.

“I need to go,” she said quickly.

“Go? But— but we haven't cut the cake yet. It's still early. We've got lots more fun stuff,” Elain said.

“You said you'll try, Nesta. Only, this doesn't feel like 'trying',” Feyre said.

They sounded… hurt.

Mother above, I'm doing this wrong.

“Nesta?” Elain asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah,” Feyre added, “you look pale.”

“Y-yeah it's f-fine. Kinda. My head hurts,” she said, accidentally clutching her stomach. “I-I mean, yeah my head hurts. Very badly. I gotta go.” She looked helplessly at both of them. “I'm so sorry. I really am. It's just— I think I need rest. I'll recompense. Probably dinner in three days?” They both shared a look and agreed.

Nesta was already walking away. “Love you both,” she threw over her shoulder.

***

“Feyre!” Rhys called. He beckoned Feyre and Elain to the table. He didn't see Nesta.

Cassian lightly kissed Feyre on her cheek once they made their way to the table and said, “Gorgeous as always. Happy anniversary!”

Feyre grinned, but it showed traces of disappointment.

He frowned. “Hey, what's wrong?”

She just shook her head and mumbled, “Nesta.” Rhys's face hardened. His brother was never fond of Nesta. He said that she was why Feyre was always worried.

“Where's Nesta?” Az asked, craning his neck to see behind farther.

“She… left,” Elain pointed, revealing a figure disappearing behind the gates. A figure he knew all too well. Shitshitshitshit.

His head snapped back to his brothers. “That is Nesta?” he damn near shouted.

Rhys scowled, “Yeah.”

No wonder why she's so beautiful, he thought dumbly before running after her with a quick “I'll be back.”

***

Nesta was wrong. In all her happiness of being reunited with her sisters, she completely forgot how even a small thing can break one's smile. She felt like she couldn't breathe. She kept her calm demeanour, but inside, she was a raging storm of emotions.

One step in front of the other, she kept reminding herself.

She kept walking. Even when she heard footsteps. Even when the steps got louder. Even as he got close enough to cease running.

But not when he called her name. She halted. Locked up her emotions. She knew she shouldn't but she turned around anyway.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“Nesta,” he breathed. She tried to hold back her shudder. It was from the night air, she told herself.

“If you have nothing to say, do let me know. I'm not going to wait forever,” she said. Harsher than she intended to. But she didn't care, at least, that's what she told herself.

Cassian winked, “I'm honored you came, sweetheart. I'll pass the credit to my influence on you. ”

She ground her teeth against the truth threatening to fall off her lips. Yes, I came here because you made me happy. And I thought that if I tried, as I did with you, I can rebuild my relationship with my sisters.

***

Cassian did something stupid. He grabbed her hand. Her eyes snapped to his, burning with anger. Like the day they first met.

He gave her a crooked grin that he knew would drive her mad. Well, more than she already was. He tilted his head to the garden, “The party is that way, love.”

She snatched back her hand at continued walking. Like a fool, he followed. “I spoke to my sisters. Told them I won't be staying tonight. And that we'll have dinner in three day's time. Does that satisfy you? Now, can you stop following me?”

“Something's wrong. What's wrong, Nes?”

“One,” she ground out, “don't call me that. Two, I'm a grown-ass woman; I know how to take care of myself. I don't need a babysitter.”

“You did. That day,” he said quietly.

She whirled on him, “Is this you taking back favours? Because I'm not interested. You want money? Take it. Tell me your price and fucking take it! Don't tread on my heels because you helped me, okay? I've got way better things to do.” She paused, “And don't follow me, Cassian.”

She turned and stalked away.

You want money? Take it. 'Take it.' As if he were a beggar, asking for alms. As if they weren't laughing at each other's jokes not more than an hour ago. As if he didn't spend a week taking care of her as if she were a part of his soul. Maybe she was.

But that was before, Cassian thought as his heart cleaved into two perfect halves. No— it smashed to a million tiny pieces.

He waited till Nesta was out of his line of sight. He turned and walked back to the garden, leaving his heart behind.

Now, sprawled on a couch in front of the TV, with nothing to do but stare at a blank screen, Cassian led his thoughts to the box he kept all unwanted thoughts locked in. He thought about Tomas, her ex-boyfriend. Funny, he thought. I know her ex's name but not hers.

It took him a little too long the other day to realise they didn't exchange names. Again. He once thought that maybe she was purposely not giving him her name. That maybe, for her, he was just a random stranger who happened to save her life. He snorted. Surely anyone would know the name of the person they saved or was saved by— stranger or not. He supposed he'll have to make do with pronouns for now.

After she left his home, it took every scrap of self-restraint not to beat this Tomas dude to pulp and let him rot in the same alley he had the misfortune of meeting him in. He may or may not have been the cause for some extra injuries. Cassian appreciated the woman’s attempt at mercy. He, however, didn’t trust Tomas at all. He was dubious about just handing him over to the police. Who’s to know he won’t frame him and the woman for absurd things? Anyway, he left a note in Tomas’s house saying something like “Step out of line, lose your favourite part of anatomy. Name it and have it for your meal.” He made sure he printed so that no one would recognise his writing. Yet, all this didn’t calm his nerves one bit. He presumed he’ll have to stay on guard for some time now.

Now, back to the girl. He sighed. He didn’t dare change the sheets in his guest bedroom. He didn’t even let Mor use the room when she came over last weekend— which he could bet created suspicion. No, that room was only open when he craved her scent. He even realised one of his shirts was missing. He shrugged it off thinking he would've left it somewhere and just couldn't find it. Once she came to his house, he was constantly thinking about her. So much that now he started pinching himself often. It was the only way he could stop thinking about her— by creating physical pain.

Cassian glanced at the clock on the wall. 2.30 in the afternoon. He walked to the refrigerator and checked his freezer compartment. Huh. No ice-cream. He sighed, grabbed his jacket and keys and headed to the mall to get an ice-cream with a pout. He’ll have to leave for Rhys and Feyre’s first anniversary only around 5.30 to prepare everything. He has enough time to get an ice-cream and probably hang out for some time. Good enough to stop thinking about her. Or so he thought.

***

Nesta wasn’t sore anymore. Her headache was gone almost a week after the incident. Her nose didn’t hurt anymore. Okay, maybe a little bit. It didn’t hurt unless she bumped her nose against something. Today, her nose was dully throbbing because she hit her nose against a pillow yesterday. A very, very soft pillow and yet it hurt this much.

The man’s first-aid and medicines were really helpful.

It really wasn’t fair that he excelled at basic first aid too. It wasn’t fair that he looked so good. With black tattoos swirling over generously muscled arms and shoulder-length dark hair curling at the edges and gloriously tanned skin and hazel eyes with minute flecks of green and brown when taken a closer look at and dimples and—

A quiet “Who is it?” snapped Nesta out of her moping. She looked up to see Gwyn walking to her.

“Who is what?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. Gwyn's pursed lips and glare conveyed that her act wasn't enough.

“Who are you thinking about?” Gwyn clarified.

“What makes you think I'm thinking about someone?” Nesta retorted.

Gwyn sat on the chair next to her and started assisting with classifying the unceremonious heap of books on the table to be kept back in its correct positions on its own rack.

“Nesta,” Gwyn sighed, “Clotho assigned you this stack almost an hour ago. And you've barely finished a third of the stack. Normally, you'd finish stacks bigger than this in an hour. So there's clearly something.”

“It wasn't anyone,” Nesta mumbled.

As usual, Gwyn saw through her lie. “You were twirling your hair,” she said flatly.

Heat inched up her neck. “I was not!”

Gwyn murmured a “uh-huh” and they lapsed into an easy silence till they were almost over.

Gwyn's eyes lit up as it normally did whenever she got an idea. “Is it him? The guy you came with that day?”

Nesta scowled, “How do you know…” she broke off when she realised which 'that day' Gwyn was talking about. Nesta fought back a blush. “No, no, this isn't about him. We don't know each other. Much. Like, we've seen each other a number of times? That's it. Nothing else.” Cauldron, the first part was a complete lie. But at least the rest are true. Will Gwyn happen to know his name? Maybe I ought to ask her. Or maybe I shouldn't.

She should, she decided. She cleared her throat. “Uh, Gwyn? Do you happen to know his name?”

Gwyn frowned and asked, “He hasn't told you yet?”

Nesta shook her head and answered, “No, we, uh, forgot. I guess. We haven't really exchanged names.”

Gwyn nodded and smiled. “Well, he is—”

“Gwyn!” a voice called. “You can't expect me to come over to you and beg for you to help me. Help me only if you want to or don't work under me.”

Gwyn’s eyes widened. She abruptly stood up and mouthed, “Merrill. I gotta go. I’m so sorry.” She all but ran to Merrill, the very strict librarian Gwyn was working under.

Nesta sighed and continued her work. There wasn’t much left so she was able to finish fast. She picked her things and left the library with a word to Clotho, heading to the mall.

***

The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to also eat something they liked. So, ice-cream it was. After having his ice-cream, Cassian was aimlessly walking around the mall. Here, not more than a month ago, he met her for the first time. Almost a month ago. He huffed out a breath. The fact that he was pining for her this long blew his mind off. He—

“This is your fault— not mine. I’m not taking the blame for this,” he told her. They bumped into each other. Again.

Her lips quirked up. “It is kind of my fault. But blame this—,” she poked his chest, “— for making my nose hurt again.”

Just like that, his mood sobered. “How are you?” he asked.

She pointed at the cafe to her left. “Coffee?”

He nodded. Who was he to say no to her?

So they ordered coffee and talked about everything and nothing. He grinned and she laughed. He laughed and she smirked. He wouldn’t say he knew her well but he’d never seen her so carefree. Her laugh was like nectar for a starving man. Her eyes bright and welling up with tears from laughing.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed this much,” she said.

Cassian put a hand on his heart dramatically and said, “I know, I know. I’m very funny.”

Her lips kicked up a notch. She straightened as if she just realised something. He was about to ask when she drawled, “So I just realised that we still haven’t exchanged names.”

Oh. Right. Of course. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Usually, when people meet, they start with introductions but in our case we’ve literally bumped into each other three times and still we don’t know each other.” He shook his head and extended his hand. “Well, hello there. I’m—”

His phone rang in his pocket. Fuck. He was going to kill whoever was calling him now. He was so close to knowing her name. He pulled out his phone to see an incoming call from Azriel. He apologetically looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry. I wish I could choose not to take this call and instead kill this idiot but I can’t. Just give me a moment, okay?”

She nodded and he picked up his call.

“What do you want?” he hissed.

“It’s 5.30 already, you idiot. We’ve got to get the things ready for the party. Mor already went to get the cake and you’re not even at home. Where on all earth and hell are you?” came Az’s faint voice.

“15 minutes only? Mother above, I’m coming.” he said.

Az’s “make it fast” was the last thing he heard before hanging up. “I wish we could stay here and talk forever,” he said to her, “but I have something up in a short while and I totally didn’t realise time was passing this fast. I’m so sorry. It was nice talking to you. Really. And I wish we could meet again. Though without the bumping part.”

He grinned when she smiled and said, “Bye. Have a nice day.”

“You too,” he called back. He didn’t want to think he imagined the subtle look of disappointment on her face because hell, he was a walking epitome of disappointment right now.

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"Have you been practicing your Valkyrie mind stilling techniques?" Nesta enquired softly as she clambered over to join him. "Yes," he rumbled back, "It's definitely helping. When I sleep, my dreams are of him. His life was long and hard, but eventually found love. With you."

Nesta resisted the urge to cheer, merely stating that it was good progress. They sat in silence for a while, just letting the breeze drift over themselves.

“I’m sorry that…'' He was cut off quickly. “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t. It takes two, and we both know that.” She never took her eyes off his face.

“Thank you. Although my dreams also showed a tougher side to you. You didn’t have it easy at all.” His expression was wistful, with a hint of anger. “But we found each other,” she reminded him softly. A grunt was the only response to that.

Nesta’s eyes drifted to the wall where his large hand was moving.

"What are you doing?" Nesta's voice tried to hide concern.

"Tapping my fingers." He sounded amused again. Nesta's eyes widened, "I'll see you at dinner." She sprinted off to find Mor because her help was certainly needed.

The blonde fae had been in the library catching up with Clotho when Nesta finally found her and told her what she thought and was planning to do next. She frowned again, “Are you absolutely sure?” This was the third time of asking and Nesta did give in to the urge to roll her eyes. “Do you honestly think that I would make such a mis-judgement? Me of all people?” Mor observed her for a few more seconds, gauging not the sincerity of what Cassian’s mate was saying, but the absolute certainty.

“Alright. I’m in. When do we start?” Mor’s eyes were sparkling with renewed enthusiasm. Working together with the blonde fae was so much better than the constant snarking which had marred their relationship for too long. On the balance of events, it was good that Feyre had Mor in the same way she had Emerie and Gwyn. Better to be good sisters without the added weight of being best friends as well.

“Tomorrow after breakfast.” Nesta couldn’t stop a small smirk of hope rising. Mor thought about squeezing her shoulder and then decided not to push her luck.

“Just make sure it’s not too heavy!” Clotho’s shoulders heaved in silent laughter as the frost between the two females continued to thaw, writing appearing in her book. I’m not sure who will find it the hardest. But we all wish you the best of luck in your success. Nesta and Mor looked at each other and then laughed, before inclining their heads to the ancient fae and moved off to prepare for tomorrow’s event.

******************************

The next day Cassian found himself in a large room with wooden flooring and a mirror taking up the entirety of one wall. Nesta and Mor were there in dance shoes, leggings and tight-ish tops. He wasn't sure where to look. Nesta and Mor shared a sad smile, the Cassian of old would absolutely and definitely be looking at everything on offer. The comments and suggestive looks would have been flowing freely as well.

Mor walked over to him, offered a friendly smile, and then started shoving his arms and legs into different positions. “Today, we’re going to dance.” The blonde nodded at Nesta who pressed the symphonia that he had got her for the Solstice. Mor guided him through the basic steps, which he faltered at but improved slowly as time went on.

Nesta watched with supreme focus. The movements were similar to his combat skills, just bringing back muscle memory to the front of his mind. The tapping was the same beat as the first dance they had done, after Cassian had cut in after the three dances with Eris. She recalled how her mate had finally admitted to having dancing lessons with Mor to be ready to sweep off her feet.

Gentler, kinder, easier days? Absolutely not, but Nesta would live through the pain all over again if it meant being reunited with Cassian again.

She forced herself to focus on Mor’s practising with Cassian. Every now and again he caught her looking across to her with a questioning look, but each time with a steadily increasing dawn of realisation. After they had hit a certain point which he couldn’t progress from, Nesta stepped in as the male lead so he could see precisely what he should be doing.

By the end of the day they were all sweating profusely.

“That was way harder than it looks.” Cassian was spreadeagled on his back, chest heaving for air. “This body is fit, but still….you two make it look effortless.” Mor and Nesta were equally tired and covered in perspiration, grace and lightness took a damned load of effort.

Mor spoke first, “Tomorrow, leave the armour behind and bring lighter clothes. You’re going to have a big enough job as it is mopping this up before you leave.”

“Me?” His look turned incredulous, in such a reflection of her Cassian that Nesta was torn between the desire to laugh or cry. “Yes, you. Most of this mess is yours anway!” There was a bit of bite in her tone, but not a lot.

“Cruel females!” But he picked himself up with a laugh. And then stopped dead as he looked at himself in the mirror. A shadow passed over his eyes, “Almost, almost.” His voice was so quiet that the females strained to hear him. “You two go and freshen up while I clean up here.” Mor looked like she wanted to stay but Nesta tugged her away.

“I think we’re close.” Nesta nodded to Mor’s whisper as hope built in her heart. For the next two days they practised, always Mor with Cassian or Nesta, never those two together. His dancing grew more and more fluid, eyes now constantly on Nesta as he whirled around with Mor.

********************************

At lunch on the fourth day he was highly agitated, Mor flicked her eyes to Nesta. It’s time.

Nesta left feeling Cassian’s eyes burning golden holes into her back.

Mor swung into the next part of the plan, ensuring he had a shower and was dressed in new, dry clothes. Then they waited for Nesta. The rustling of skirts sounded her entrance, Mor adjusted the fae lights to create a darker, more intimate atmosphere. Nesta walked in.

Nesta in Night Court black threatened to bring him to his knees.

She’d braided her hair over her head in her usual style, but atop it, a delicate tiara of glinting black stone rested, slender spikes jutting upward in a dark corona. Each spike was topped with a tiny sapphire, as if the spikes were so sharp they’d pierced the sky and drawn cobalt blood.

And the dress …

Silver thread embroidered the skintight velvet bodice, the straps so narrow they might as well have been nothing against her moon-white skin. The neckline plunged nearly to her navel, where the silver thread gathered to hold a small sapphire that matched the ones on her crown. The full skirts brushed the dark floor, rustling in the rippling silence.

Nesta’s chin remained high, accentuating her long, lovely neck. Her red-painted lips cocked in a feline smirk as her kohl-lined eyes took in the room watching her every breath.

Nesta seemed to glow with the attention. Owned it. Commanded it. Cassian stepped forward to offer his hand. From somewhere music started, Mor left the room.

Nesta slipped her hand into his, their calluses rasping against each other. His hand slid around her waist, so large it spanned nearly halfway across. She gathered her skirts, and lifted her gaze to his.

Nesta fell back a step, leading him, them, into the dance, and Cassian went with her.

He kept up, willing to follow her into the music, into the sound and the movement, and his eyes did not, would not, leave her face.

Their steps quickened, and Cassian found his rhythm.

He spun her, and she whipped herself around, his arms waiting to catch her.

His hand on her waist tightened, his only warning as he launched them further, faster into the music. Cassian smiled at her, and the world faded away.

The music was no longer the most beautiful thing in existence. He was.

Nesta couldn’t stop it then.

The answering smile that bloomed through her at last, stealing across her face, bright as the dawn.

He stopped them as the music continued to play. “Nesta,” he breathed, “I’m back. It’s me Cassian, your mate.”

There in the darkened room as the music continued to play, Nesta and Cassian held each other as they were reunited. Tears streaked down their faces for a good long while. Then they danced again.

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