I will find you in the next world

Cassian insisted that their first word had been dada. He claimed he'd heard it clear as day, bold and proud, practically shouted in his direction like a victory cry.

I, on the other hand, knew in my soul it had been Mama.

I remembered the day clearly. We'd been on the floor of the sitting room, sunlight spilling in through the windows, blankets strewn everywhere. 

Seraphina was propped against my legs, happily chewing on her own fist, while Dorian lay between Cassian's wings, kicking and babbling like he had something very important to say.

Cassian had been making ridiculous faces, truly unhinged ones, crossing his eyes, sticking out his tongue, doing anything to coax a laugh.

"Dada," he'd said slowly, tapping his own chest. "Da-da. Come on, you can do it."

Dorian had blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then—

"Mmm... ma."

I had frozen. Cassian had frozen. Seraphina, traitor that she was, had chosen that moment to chirp something that sounded suspiciously like agreement.

My heart had leapt into my throat. "You heard that, right?" I whispered, already grinning.

Cassian frowned. "That was not Mama."

"That was absolutely mama," I shot back. "Clear as day."

He scoffed. "He was warming up. That was a practice sound."

"A practice sound," I repeated flatly.

"Yes," he said seriously. "For dada."

As if summoned by the argument, Seraphina had suddenly looked up at me, eyes bright, and very clearly said, "Ma."

I may have made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Cassian had stared at her, betrayed. "They're ganging up on me."

"They're intelligent," I'd corrected sweetly.

He'd groaned, flopping back dramatically. "Unbelievable. I carry them around on my wings, I lose sleep, I change them—"

"You complain while changing them," I reminded him.

"And this is how I'm repaid."

Now, months later, the debate still hadn't truly ended.

Seraphina liked to say mama when she was tired or hungry, her little hands reaching for me like she already understood I was home.

Dorian, on the other hand, said dada whenever Cassian entered the room, voice loud and proud, wings fluttering as if he were calling his general to attention.

Cassian took that as proof. I took Seraphina's sleepy murmurs as mine.

Sometimes they said both words in the same breath, watching us with far too much interest, like they knew exactly what they were doing.

And maybe they did.

As I watched them now, Seraphina babbling happily, Dorian grinning up at Cassian, I felt something warm and steady settle in my chest.

That warmth stayed with me through the evening.

It followed us into dinner, into the long table filled with familiar voices and clinking plates, into the soft chaos that had become our new normal.

Because dinner time, proper dinner time, with the whole family had turned into a battle.

Not between us. Between me and the twins.

Seraphina sat in her little chair beside me, wings fluttering excitedly as soon as she spotted my plate. Dorian mirrored her from Cassian's side, both of them suddenly laser-focused on my food as if they'd been starving for days rather than fed barely an hour ago.

I took one bite. One. A tiny hand shot out immediately.

"Absolutely not," I said gently, intercepting Seraphina's fingers just before they landed in my vegetables. "This is not for babies."

She blinked up at me, wide-eyed and deeply offended, then opened her mouth in what was very clearly an attempt at negotiation.

"Mama," she said sweetly.

I sighed. "That's manipulation."

Across the table, Mor laughed into her wine. "She's learned early."

Dorian chose that moment to lean as far as his little body would allow, stretching toward my plate with impressive determination. His fingers brushed the edge, and he made a triumphant noise like he'd just conquered a mountain.

"Dorian," I scolded softly, nudging him back. "You just ate."

Cassian, traitor that he was, grinned proudly. "See? Strong instincts. They know good fuel when they see it."

"They know my food," I shot back.

Azriel watched with quiet amusement as I tried to juggle my fork, Seraphina's wandering hands, and Dorian's determined lunges. "They're persistent," he observed mildly.

"That's one word for it," I muttered.

I lifted my plate slightly out of reach, only for Seraphina to pout dramatically, lower lip wobbling as if I'd committed some great injustice.

"Oh no," I said immediately. "Don't you dare."

Cassian leaned back in his chair, utterly unbothered. "Let them have a taste."

"No," I said firmly. "They have their food. This is adult food."

"They're going to eat everything eventually," he countered. "Might as well start now. Build muscle."

I shot him a look. "They do not need muscle at six months old."

"They've got Illyrian blood," he said proudly. "It's inevitable."

As if on cue, Dorian let out a happy squeal and slapped his hands against the table, wings flaring with excitement. Seraphina followed suit, the two of them babbling loudly, clearly delighted by the attention.

"They're ganging up on me," I accused.

Rhys, seated at the head of the table, smirked. "You're outnumbered."

"I've been outnumbered since the day they were born," I replied, though I couldn't stop smiling.

I tried again to take a bite only to feel Seraphina's fingers curl around the sleeve of my dress, tugging insistently.

"Sweetheart," I said patiently, "you cannot have this."

She tilted her head, studying me, then reached again, this time with both hands.

Cassian laughed outright. "That's my girl."

I turned on him. "Do not encourage her."

"I'm encouraging ambition."

Mor leaned over to peek at Seraphina. "What are you trying to steal, hm?"

Seraphina responded by blowing a raspberry and flapping her wings, clearly pleased with herself.

Dorian, meanwhile, had somehow managed to get his hands on a piece of bread Cassian hadn't noticed disappearing from his plate. He proudly shoved it toward his mouth, eyes sparkling with victory.

"Cassian," I hissed.

He looked down. Paused. Then burst out laughing. "Well I'll be damned."

I gently took the bread away, wiping Dorian's hands before he could protest too loudly. "You cannot just let them steal food."

"They're resourceful," Cassian said, utterly unapologetic.

"They're six months old."

"And thriving."

Despite myself, I laughed. The sound felt easy, light, like it used to.

The table buzzed with conversation and warmth, with familiar faces and shared glances, with two babies who wanted nothing more than to be part of everything. 

Even if that meant stealing from my plate.

As Seraphina leaned against me, babbling softly, and Dorian kicked happily in his chair, I looked around the table—at Cassian's proud grin, at our family watching them with fond amusement and felt that steady warmth deepen into something richer.

This was messy. Loud. Chaotic. And impossibly perfect.

Cassian's POV - 

If there was something my children loved more than food and more than conspiring with me to annoy their mother—it was Azriel.

I didn't take it personally. Mostly.

Seraphina had been outraged about dessert. Truly affronted. Little fists clenched, wings twitching, a dramatic little wail building in her chest because her mother had dared to deny her a second reach toward the sweet dish on the table.

Which was why I'd been dispatched, banished, really, to pace the sitting room with a fussy baby while the rest of them finished eating.

"She just needs a minute," my mate had said sweetly, already spooning dessert onto plates.

A minute, my ass.

Seraphina squirmed in my arms, protesting her injustice to the world, when the door opened.

Azriel stepped inside. The crying stopped instantly.

I stared down at my daughter in disbelief as her little head snapped toward him, eyes lighting up like he was the answer to every problem she'd ever known. 

Her wings fluttered wildly, hands reaching.

"Oh, now you stop crying," I muttered, tightening my grip as she tried to launch herself from my arms. "Unbelievable."

Azriel froze mid-step, eyes widening slightly. "Was that—"

She squealed. Actually squealed.

I sighed. "Congratulations. You've been chosen."

He hesitated, clearly unsure whether to approach or flee, but Seraphina made the decision for him by leaning as far out of my arms as possible, babbling happily.

Azriel took her with practised ease, settling her against his chest. She immediately grabbed onto the collar of his shirt like she'd always belonged there, snuggling in with a content little hum. 

Traitor.

"She doesn't do that for me," I grumbled.

Azriel glanced down at her, something soft flickering across his face. "She was just tired."

"She was screaming."

"Yes," he agreed calmly. "But she's very reasonable."

I snorted.

That was when the door opened again. My mate stepped in, Dorian balanced against her hip, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Azriel. His face lit up, mouth opening in a delighted gasp. 

"Dada—" he paused, then corrected himself, "—Azzie."

Close enough.

Before I could warn anyone, Dorian leaned forward with surprising confidence, arms outstretched, wings flapping enthusiastically.

"Oh no," I said. "You're not—"

Too late.

Azriel shifted smoothly, catching Dorian as if this was an everyday occurrence, which, frankly, it was becoming. 

Now he held both babies, one on each arm, Seraphina already half-asleep and Dorian babbling happily, tiny hands gripping Azriel's shirt like it was the safest place in the world.

Azriel looked down at them, utterly doomed.

"You're their favourite," my mate said mildly.

"I don't know how this happened," he replied, though there was no real confusion in his voice.

I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into my side as we watched him carefully lower himself onto the couch, babies settling against him like they'd planned this all along.

"You should start charging," I told him. "At this rate, you're basically a third parent."

He shot me a look. "You're welcome."

She leaned into me, head resting against my shoulder, laughter soft and warm. "They trust you," she said to Azriel. "That means everything."

He ducked his head slightly, but his hands tightened just a bit around the twins, protective and gentle.

I pressed a kiss to her hair, my chest full in that quiet, overwhelming way it got sometimes.

"Careful," I added lazily. "If you keep this up, they're going to start calling you Dada too."

Azriel scoffed. "Absolutely not."

Seraphina chose that moment to murmur happily in her sleep, face pressed against his chest. Dorian babbled something equally incriminating.

Azriel's shadows, however, had other plans.

They began to stir, not sharply, not defensively, but with a soft, curious flutter, as if they'd sensed the small, warm presences in his arms and were waking to greet them.

Dorian noticed first.

His babbling cut off mid-sound as his dark eyes tracked the movement curling lazily along Azriel's shoulder. A tiny hand lifted, fingers opening and closing in fascination.

"What?" I murmured under my breath.

One of the shadows stretched forward, thinning and lightening until it hovered just within reach, hesitant, playful.

Dorian gasped.

A bright, delighted laugh burst from him as his fingers swiped through it, only for the shadow to swirl away, teasing. His wings flapped wildly, excitement radiating from him in waves.

"Oh, you've done it now," I said faintly.

Seraphina stirred at the sound of her brother's laughter, blinking sleepily before her gaze landed on the shadows drifting above them. Her little brow furrowed in concentration. Then slowly she reached out.

The shadow met her halfway.

Not touching, not quite, just brushing close enough that she squeaked, a sound of pure joy, and grabbed again. 

The shadows responded instantly, curling and looping like ribbons in water, playful and alive in a way I'd never seen them before.

Azriel stiffened. "I don't—" he began, then stopped.

Because the shadows were purring.

Not audibly but the air around them hummed softly, warmly, as they danced around the babies, twining gently around Seraphina's wrist, drifting across Dorian's cheek.

"They like them," my mate whispered, wonder threading her voice.

Azriel stared down at the scene unfolding in his arms, something like awe stealing across his features. 

"They've never—" he swallowed. "They've never done this before."

Dorian giggled again, grabbing at the shadows with both hands now, utterly enchanted. Seraphina followed suit, wide awake and delighted, her earlier sleep forgotten entirely.

I barked a laugh. "Congratulations. You've been adopted. By my children and your shadows."

Azriel shot me a glare that lacked any real heat. "This is highly irregular."

The shadows ignored him completely, looping around the babies like they'd found their purpose at last.

My mate leaned into me, smiling softly. "They feel safe with you," she said. "All of you."

Azriel didn't answer but his arms tightened protectively around Seraphina and Dorian, his expression unreadable and very, very soft.

The room filled with the quiet sounds of baby laughter, the low hum of shadows at play, and the steady warmth of family.

A/N - Of course Cassian's children are food thieves. They're six months old and already acting like they've never been fed a day in their lives. Tiny Illyrian appetites are no joke :)

And Azriel with the babies? The shadows playing with them? Seraphina falling asleep on his chest while Dorian treats the shadows like new best friends? Yeah... he never stood a chance x

Cassian really went from "father of twins" to "competing with Azriel for favourite person" in record time!!

Thank you so much for reading <33

"You're quiet tonight. How're you doing while I was gone?" Rhys swirled the wine in his glass. He and his mate were visiting the solar courts, tightening bonds with the other High Lords, shaking hands to knot down trader promises.

I suppressed the grumble that build deep inside of my throat. "I'm fine." I murmured, eyes fixated on the empty glass in my hand, wishing there was still liquor to drown my thoughts in to... to think of anything but her. But the house never refilled it as if it wanted me to bath in my silent sorrow, mutely chuckling at me.

"Are you?" He asked. "I've heard from the wraith's that you've been … distracted. Is there a female from Illyria or the city? A waitress from Rita's or a shopkeepers daughter who keeps you up late? I must say I lost track at some point."

I wanted to punch that smug smile from his perfect straight teeth. My blood roared. Every female I'd touched in more than the last decade had been a desperate, failing attempt to erase Rhys' little sister from my memory. But things had changed long before that. It was the gala of her eighteenth birthday. I was struck when the doors opened and she walked through the mass of Fae. Her pearly white wings unfurled like a blossom on the first morning of summer. Glowing and blinding with that beautiful dress she wore, so in contrast with her lilac irises. When her eyes met mine, she stopped being the annoying brat and became the only female I would truly want. Ever.

My eyes stayed glued to my hands. Calloused and rough. Dirty by the blood I shed. By the people I've killed. Never good enough to hold hers. Delicate and bright and too innocent for someone like me. "Drop it, Rhys." I snapped. "It's nothing of your business." My answer was short. Harsh. And utterly too mean for a brother that just returned after weeks of not seeing each other. I cursed myself for being so hostile.

He just raised an eyebrow and exchanged looks with Az. Like his spymaster could give him any answer. The slight blew of his huff to ease his mind caught in the loose strands of my hair. Then, he tried to change the subject. "What about YN?"

My mind ran a thousand miles and my head spun to his. Did he know that I liked his little sister more than I should? That I couldn't concentrate for a second when she was in the room?

"What about her?" I asked, a little too agitated.

His brows furrowed like it was obvious what he meant. "How was she while I was gone? Did you look after her?"

I had to control the roll of my eyes. "Of course I looked after her. She’s your sister, Rhys. I’d die before I let anything happen to her," I grunted, finally tearing my deadly stare away from him. Az met my glare and I knew what he thought of.

It was a night a long time ago. I found her while she cried over the breakup with some fuckboy she dated. That asshole betrayed her with another female. I stayed with her until she fell asleep from exhaustion. Then I found fuckboy and punched him right across the face before I flew back to the House of Wind. When I rounded the corner to the corridor of my room, Az stood there. Arms crossed and his shadows whispering something in his ear. It took him one glance to put two and two together — her dried tears on my chest and my split knuckles. All he asked was, "How long?" A simple question. How long did my heart yearn for her? How long have I been punching the douchbags she dated after they betrayed her?

Forever.

I didn't answer Az and pushed past him as he said. "I won't tell Rhys. But you should tell her."

His words never ceased echoing in my mind since then. Just as they are now. How am I supposed to tell YN that I am in love with her when I know that she's off limits. Rhys told me years ago what kind of male he wanted for his beloved sister — strong, kind and good hearted, a constant and from a good background. Proud and equable. Someone who wouldn't tarnish her in any way. In other words: Someone who isn't me. I'm hot tempered, I punch first and ask questions later. I have enough issues from my upbringing to give everyone a piece and remain the prince of bastards. The battles I fought in still gave me nightmares most nights and left me contemplating if I was the real monster in the story.

I exhaled deeply to make my heart stop racing. "She's been doing fine. She hasn't been out much. She's been sticking to training with me but liked to cook or read or soaking in her tub for hours every night, as usual."

I stood. Done with this evening.

"Wait." Rhys said as I was already across the room, my empty glass abandoned on the cushions.

Sighing, I turned around to face him, my shoulders tired of keeping it together tonight.

"I need you to do something for me." His velvet voice slithered to me with mischief.

He let the seconds tick by as if he was amused with himself. Prick.

"YN will be leaving tomorrow for Winter."

There it was again — my heart racing at the thought of her being out of my reach. Out of my protection.

"I wand you to go with her."

YN

I hated Winter.

Not because of the cold. I never minded that. I've been to Illyria more times than I could count. I embraced the glittering snow and incessant winds howling against the windows. Even their harsh tone was something I became fond of. Clear command and actions. No formal yapping and exchanging pleasantries. I've always wondered how Rhysie abode those boring things it all.

It was the Winter's friendliness… as if not the tiniest cloud could sully their sunny nature.

Urgh. I. hated. Winter.

At least Cassian was coming with me.

Cassian.

Shit, I had to get myself together. He'd spot my heart rate instantly and ask if I was okay and order me to let him handle Winter. The general never knew that it was because of him that my hands got clammy and my ears hot as hel. Thankfully, I was able to veil myself, so he wouldn't notice the scent between my legs every time I saw him.

"Ready to go?" Mor asked, leaning in the doorway, absently picking at something invisible on her fingernails.

I looked myself over in the mirror one last time. My cloak hung flawlessly from my shoulders, my hands straightening it again and again like a cat licking its fur to perfection before wandering around to frantically find a mate. The invisible crown speckled with glittering stars on my head illuminated me, like it did my mother once a long time ago. My dress was the same sheer colour as my wings, almost translucent, shining as if the diamonds of the deepest mountains were sparkling for the first time after a thousand of years in the dark. I pushed the one strand of my hair that always pointed in the wrong direction out of my face.

Before my eyes could meet my mirror ones, they connected with orbs of hazel. Green and steel and warm brown. Staring directly at me like a lighting struck. A statue of will and power, hiding a softness he showed so rarely. When did Cassian slip in unnoticed?

"Yes." I breathed. And I wasn't sure if I was talking to Mor or to him.

"The Star of the North!"

The daydream, of that one thing I could never have that occupied my mind ran out quickly like the last kernel of sand out of an hourglass.

The name that was given to me on the day of my birth rang from deep inside of me. The Star of the North. White wings, glass like skin and shining like all of the stars and the moon combined.

Vivane stretched out her arms as she walked towards me cheerily, a wide smile on her face like she was greeting a friend she hasn't seen in ages. Her bone crushing hug warm as if trying to melt the ice of the mountain caps. My eyes drifted over her shoulder — to Kallias in the background, standing proudly before his icicle Throne, stoic as ever but kindness written all over his face.

I hugged her back. Once out of her squeeze, I bowed to her and her mate. "Your majesties, the years have been but a shadow compared to the light of your presence. My heart rejoices to see you—and your court of eternal Winter."

Then, Kallias voice rang from the columns of polished ice, his frown thawing into one of his rare smiles. "The Winter Court is made all the brighter by your arrival, Princess of the Night Court." He bowed his head in greeting. "Your words are as kind as they are welcome. Peace is finally with us and it is an honor to share it with you, not only as our allies of the night court, but as friends. Your grace, YN. And General Cassian."

The walls of my veil thickened on its own. Kallias' words were kind and welcoming. But hearing him addressing Cassian as the general didn't feel enough. He was so much more. The one that flew in the center of the first lines at battle against our enemies. Who was ready to give his life for the weakest. The one who poured all his power into his siphons till exhaustion. The lord who cherished his court to shed all blood of its opponents. The one who smiled during dark times. The one who's able to make me laugh at all times, who was there when no one else was. Who checked on me and took me on long walks through Velaris. The one who surprised me with flowers from Illyria one random morning. The one who sat next to me silently while reading for hours. He was always more than just the general.

"My steward will escort you to your rooms, so that you may refresh yourselves. Rest well. We shall celebrate this evening properly at the banquet this evening." Kallias said as a thin male with pale skin bowed deeply before leading the way.

"This collar is diving me crazy!" Cassian roared angrily from the mirror on the other side of the room of our shared suite. His face was red and I've never seen the crease between his brows so deep.

"Here," I cooed. "Let me."

I stepped between his angry image and his broad form, shielding him from his disheveled doppelganger, reaching up to help him with the tie and collar. His ceremonial armor was buttoned the wrong way and the silk of the sling around his neck was inside out. My arms went numb from holding them up so long to get him sorted. His warm gaze was burning and my skin rippled with kisses of lightning as he traced my every move. Hair combed back so meticulously like he just shed out of his skin — his broad shoulders could've shield me from the light of the sun — form so strong and impressive my knees nearly gave in.

And then, there was his smell. Snow chilled winds mixed with crackling embers of a pine tree. I could've get lost right then and there. If he'd asked me to skip today and fly out of the palace to catch a basket of the necessities and watch the sunset while picnicking, I'd say yes right away and forget everything else. Forget that Rhysand wants me to marry someone of name, a male of steady discipline and someone who knows the value of a true home. Someone whose strength is matched only by his patience. Urgh. That sounded so boring. He wanted a stiff and formal courtier for me, or a noble who follows every rule. Maybe a lonely scholar or a traveling diplomat or a gentle soft-spoken lord. If I'd saw such a male I'd instantly turn by back and let Cassian carry me to wherever.

"Everything okay?" His soothing voice was laced with concern as he noticed that I halted my movements absentmindedly and stared at the space where his heart pounded in his chest.

"Y-yes." I answered, my lips thinned at the lie and I took a step back from him. I took him in, he looked spectacular in his suit. My hand plucked a single hair of mine from his chest like it had no right to be there. "Perfect." I murmured and gave him a soft smile, hoping that didn't notice that I meant him, but his dressing.

CASSIAN

Her nails left marks on my arm even through my armor. The grip of her hand on my arm felt like her hanging on a lifeline. Like she was clinging to me for dear life. Like she tried to escape this situation of a stormy sea and let me pull her into safety. Like she wanted to be anywhere else but here.

I considered pulling her against my chest, spreading my wings and get her out of here. But I had to stay strong. Be her anchor. Even if her nervousness drifted through her thick shield and left goosebumps all over my body. I straightened my back and sucked my wings in neatly.

The steps felt heavier every time we set a foot forward, to the dais the new prince of Winter stood on. Athila.

This was the night the High Lord Kallias and his mate Vivane presented him to the world. They kept him a secret for centuries and decided that now, weeks after the wars was the right time to introduce him as their heir. As the new light, leading their court into a new era.

A quiet voice inside my head nagged and left me with knots in my stomach. They're putting Athila on a silver platter. For her.

Was this Rhysand's plan all along? Sending her off, presenting YN to him as a potential wife, as a prize to win, as a gift, of something he could give away like a handshake in thanks after their aid in war. To bestow her to anyone who could be of use to him in a couple of years? He wouldn't be cruel like that, would he?

I'm detecting her every move. But YN put on her facade, veiling herself with the same grace Rhysand did when he met other High Lords. Maybe I misinterpreted the signs. Maybe she was so on edge because she felt attracted to him. Her fidgety fingers on my collar and her eyes never truly meeting mine. Was it because she was excited to meet him?

Athila bowed smoothly and extended his slim hand towards her, asking her for the first dance.

No one but me noticed that the smile she wore was a nervous one as her hand reluctantly slid from my arm and into his palm. The music of Winter was like the land itself…crisp, elegant, and chillingly formal. The clank of her heels against the sheer floor were like drums that accompanied me to the scaffold. His hands on her delicate body — the sling around my neck. Him whispering something inaudible into her ears — the floor giving way. Her smiling and laughing at him — the oxygen drifting out of my lungs. The glittering of her eyes and the redness of her cheeks — my death.

The prince of Winter was everything I wasn't.

The air in my lungs caught as my blood boiled while my hackles rose, wings twitching noticeably. My shoulders tensed and I had to refrain from reaching for the hidden dagger I bore, just in case. Fury dropped in my stomach as the faintest scent of her smell drifted from sweet to something that was never there before. Dread, agitation or elation… I couldn't place it.

The second the song died with the violins of the background I stepped forward. Slow enough not to stir any compunction, fast enough to catch her from his last twirl. Viviane took over and was dancing with him now. I caught YN. She was in my arms. Mine for the moment. Her hands were cold as if the prince's cool and polite touch froze her to the core. I let my calloused hands slide around her, radiating heat through my grip to warm her up. My hear jumped as she leand in closer.

Other couples joined the dance until we drifted through a sea of skirts of tull and tunics of silk. She seemed so small against me, almost fragile, clinging to me again. We didnt speak. We just moved. My hands a heavy, grounding weight on her waist, the other crushing hers a little too tightly. Then, a soft stroke on my mind asked for permission to enter. I let her in and her divine voice slipped into my thoughts.

"I know you hate it when I do that, I'm sorry." I once told her that I hated it when her or her brother did that mind-talking thing. As if it would harm them to do it aloud. Since then, she only did it in an emergency.

"Are you okay?"

"Now, I am." She smiled at me. It was so different from the one she gave Athila.

A low growl rumbled in my chest.

“You look like you’re heading to the chopping block, not a celebration,” she said softly.

My wings flared slightly. “Hard not to, considering I just watched you dance with the 'Perfect Prince.' I assume Rhys is already picking out the celebratory wine for the engagement?”

She looked up at me, eyes wide. “You think so too? That Rhys sent me here to... to trade me for an alliance?”

My jaw tightened so hard I almost cracked a bone. “I know he's been writing letters with Kallias. Athila is high-born, powerful, and looks like he was carved out of a diamond. He’s exactly the kind of male a High Lord picks for a sister he wants to keep safe and settled.”

“I felt like a statue in his arms, Cass,” she whispered inside of my head. “He was perfectly kind, and I felt absolutely nothing but terror. If Rhysand expects me to stay here... if he expects me to be a Winter Court prize...”

The air around me seemed to drop ten degrees. Not from Winters magic, but from the suffocating siphon fueled rage.

“He won’t,” I growled back into her head. “I don’t care what Rhysand has promised or what Kallias expects. You aren’t a chess piece, and you sure as hell aren’t staying in this frozen wasteland unless you want to be here.”

“And if Rhys insists?” Her voice broke.

I pulled her an inch closer, drowning in her in my fragrance to calm her down. “Then I’ll pick you up and fly until my wings give out. I’ll start a war with the Winter Court myself before I let them lock you in a palace made of ice.”

Her breath hitched as she looked at me with raw intensity. I didn't say it with the protective instinct of a commander. It was with the desperate, burning hunger of a male who couldn't bear the thought of her belonging to someone else. Her hammering heart made me look down at her again.

“You’d really risk Rhys’ wrath for me?”

My face softened, just a speck, the fury turning into something achingly tender. I leaned down, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Sweetheart, I’d risk the wrath of the Mother herself for you. Besides,” I added with my signature smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth, “have you seen the way Athila dances? The male has the rhythm of a foal on a frozen pond. I could never let you marry him. I do have a reputation to uphold! Having a brother-in-law who trips over his own feet would be a stain on my record.”

Her tension faltered through her little laugh. Bright. Genuine. She buried her face in my shoulder to hide her grin. "He wasn't that bad."

"Right. He was catastrophic," I countered before spinning her as the tempo increased. Her skin has warmed under my hand on the small of her back, my thumb grazing over the soft fabric. “If you’re going to be bored to death by a male, it should at least be one who knows how to lead on a dance floor.”

She looked up at me with doe eyes through her lashes. "Is that so?" A tease through and through.

"Absolutely," I murmured back to her voice inside my head. My gaze dropped to her lips for a heartbeat too long to be just platonic. "I'll be at your side at all times tonight. If Athila tried to hand you a ring, we're hitting the sky before he's on his knees."

YN

Dinner felt less like a feast and more like an interrogation under a frozen magnifying glass. Athila sat directly across from me, his slicked back silver hair shimmering under the light of the countless chandeliers. Mr. too perfect. Every time he spoke, his voice sounded like wind chimes, elegant and hollow. Probably the reason his parents kept him secret all these years. I felt his gaze sliding over my skin. Heavy and expectant, like he was already mentally placing me on a pedestal in his collected gallery of beautiful things. My hands were clammy and bile rose in my throat.

Cassian was silent next to me. But under the cool exterior simmered a volcano. He didn't touch his food, just shredded bread into tiny pieces. His knuckles drained of color as he gripped his wine glass. If he wore his siphons, they'd glow in a menacing red, tainting a hue of blood over the pristine table cloth. His shoulders were tight but broader than everyone elses, even if he was dressed in solid black, so at odds with my attire — glittering and white. If he'd spread his dark wings, we'd look like the night sky speckled with a thousand stars.

"The Night Court is known for its mysteries," Athila said, uncoiling me from my daydream as he leaned forward to lock eyes with me. "Bur surely, a star as bright as you, Princess, deserves a sky that doesn't hide her in the dark. Winter would make you dazzle. The snow would reflect your light, not swallow it." His wink gave me goosebumps and my shoulders itched, wings wanting to flare in discomfort.

To Hel with those attacks wrapped in pleasantries. "I quite like the darkness, Prince Athila. It provides…privacy." I quipped back. Maybe I overstepped. I glances over the unoccupied chair across from them, it seemed his parents didn't listen to our conversation.

"Privacy is for those with things to hide," Athila countered with a sharp and playful smile. He reached across the slim table, his fingers grazing the back of my hand. It was like being peth with an icicle. "A female like you should be displayed, for everyone to see. Let me show you the gardens after this. The frost-roses are in bloom and they'd look heavenly against your hair."

My toe nails rolled and my shield slipped for a moment, just slightly. The glass in Cassian's hand creaked terrifyingly. I had to come up with something or else he'll strangle the Prince here and how. "I—I'm afraid I've caught a chill," I blurted out as I retracted my hand out of his touch. "The travel must have caught up with me." A bad lie. He probably knows that we've been winnowed in. I didn't dare to look at him one more time and I turned to the High Lord and his Lady. "If you'll excuse me, I think I need some air."

I bowed my head and didn't wait for an answer, standing up sp fast my chair nearly toppled. Cassian was on his feet before I could even take a step. His form was a towering shield between me and the Winter Prince. "I'll escort her," Cassian grunted lowly, his voice vibrating with a territorial edge.

He opened his wings just a tad behind us, putting his membrane screen between us and the banquet hall as he led me out. His hand was firm on my back as he met my pace. We didn't stop at the guest suites. We kept walking until we reached one of the secluded balconies, overlooking the frozen wastes. A biting wind whipped my hair across my face.

Cassian closed the door behind us for some concealment. "A chill?" He burst out, spinning me around to face him. "You were lying though your teeth!" His wild eyes met mine. "You hated the way he looked at you. I saw it... felt it."

"Of course I hated it!" I whined back. The frustration of the last few hours boiling over. "He was looking at me like I'm relic at an auction, knowing he'd pay every price. Like I was something Rhysand had already sold to him!"

"And what are we gonna do now, huh?" His eyes scanned my face. "Go back there and do like nothing happened? You think I can sit there any second longer while some iced-over princeling touches you?" Cassian's wings flared wide in anger. He stepped into my space, his chest heaving, nearly touching mine. "I can't do it, YN. I can't watch you go to him. I can't watch you go to anyone."

Something inside of me broke. "Then do something about it!" I cried, my voice shattering. I shoved his chest, palms hitting the warm metal of his dress armor. "Stop being the loyal general for one second and do something!" He stood his ground as I shoved him again weakly. "Do you know what it's like? Watching you walk out of Rita's with some other female and sit there like it's not torturing me? Do you know what it's like to know that the only male I've ever wanted thinks I'm just his High Lord's little sister? To soak in the tub every day for hours just to replace the warmth of your good night hug? To wash away the images of you with another female?"

Cassian froze all over. His hazel eyes searching mine. Like they were bleeding with decades of suppressed longing. "You…you want me?"

"I have always wanted you, you idiot Illyrian brute," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes as my hands slipped from his chest. "It’s always been you. Always." There it was. Raw and exposed. Everything I held in for so long poured out of a well I kept under control until now.

A low and primal growl rumbled from his deep inside his chest. Before I could breathe, his hands were in my hair, tilting my head back. "To Hel with the rules," he rasped against my lips. "To hel with Rhys."

Then his lips were on mine. Not soft. Nothing about him was. It was a collision. Tasting like the free wind and burning like liquor to a sore throat. It was fire melting ice. And for the first time in my life, the stars in my blood felt like they were finally aligned. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, opening my mouth with the need to welcome the heat of him.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The sound sliced through the cold winds around us. We sprang apart. Gasping and his taste on my tongue. Standing in the shadows of the doorway was Rhysand. His violet eyes shimmering under his frowned brows as he stepped towards us.

"Rhysie!" I squeaked, my voice rough and my face turning a shade of red that would have put a sunset to shame. "I…we…it's not what it looks like! We were just-" I stammered but Cassian cut me off.

"Actually, it's exactly what it looks like," he said, stepping in front of me. His jaw was set in that lethal line I knew so well. "Rhysand, I don’t care what you planned. I don't care about Athila or the Winter Court alliance. You can strip me of my rank, you can banish me to the edge of the world, but I am not giving her up. You can't marry her off and expect me to just stand there. I won't do it."

All I could do was staring at Cassian's back as my heart soared from his words. Silence stretched and I braced for Rhysand's legendary temper. A storm brewing before the stroke hitting. I could feel his intense stare on us — his power rolling off of him in dark waves. Is he- is he going to mist Cassian?

A low chuckle escaped Rhysand's throat, building until he was leaning against the archway, laughing hysterically. I peered around Cassian's wing, watching Rhysand's shoulders begin to shake while laughing. "Is he having a breakdown?" I whispered.

Cassian's arm slung around me protectively. "I— I don't know." He frowned but never took his eyes off his High Lord.

"Finally!" Rhysand gasped, wiping a tear from his eye. "Cauldron, I thought I was going to have to actually marry you off to that boring block of ice just to get a reaction out of you, Cassian."

Cassian blinked, his aggression faltering into confusion. "What?" His grip around me loosened. Rhysand straightened his tunic, a smug, triumphant grin spreading across his face. "I've been setting you two up for years. The training sessions? The 'accidental' solo missions? Leaving Cassian as your guard whenever I was gone? Sending you to Winter together? I even told Azriel to drop hints, but he said you were both too 'stubbornly miserable' to take the bait."

My hand found Cassian's. "You... you wanted this?" I asked, breathless.

"YN, you're my sister. I want you to be happy." He said softly, his playful voice genuine. "I always wanted someone like Cass for you. The strongest male of them all to keep you safe. He has a good heart, he's compassionate, not only to our people, but foremost you. I wanted you with someone who would burn the world down for you. And I knew that person was the bastard who’s been punching your boyfriends since you were eighteen."

Cass punched my boyfriends? I never allowed myself to dream of him stepping up for me in that way. He was untamed and stubborn and…mine.

He stepped forward, clapping a hand on Cassian’s stunned shoulder. "I'm happy for you both. Truly. But Cassian? If you ever make her cry, I won't need a Winter's alliance to deal with you."

Rhysand winked at me, turned on his heel, and started whistling as he walked toward the ballroom. The empty chair in front of Kallias and Vivane was his.

"Now, hurry up and fix your hair," he called back over his shoulder to usher us with him. "We have a dinner to finish, and I believe Athila still thinks he has a chance. I’d love to see the look on his face when you walk back in there holding hands."

I looked at Cass, who was still staring down the doorway with wide eyes. A slow and wicked grin spreading across his face. Without a warning, he picked me up in his arms and kissed me again before setting me down again. "You heard our High Lord," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. "Let's go ruin the Prince's night."

He’s a true party animal and a social butterfly. Everyone knows him and he knows everyone. When we moved into our cottage in Velaris shortly after he proposed to me, he was invited to the neighbors for a beer after a mere hour. He’s friends with everyone who lives in our street and he’s there to help them if they have a garden project that needs his muscle power. That’s what I love about him. He’s a giver through and through.

This year, he has planned something special for his birthday. It’s his 550th after all. He wants his birthday to be a surprise for everyone else but this year he told Az and some of the neighbors enough, so they would show up to help.

This morning, our little cobblestone street looked like every other day. Hanging pots with colorful petunias swinging in the wind, Mr. Beachum sweeping the area in front of his door with an old broom for the fifth time, the cat Giselle meowing in front of the window of the old lady that always has treats for her, and some kids painting games on the sidewalk with some chalk.

But now it’s something else. There are rows of tables with mismatched chairs - probably all chairs from every house in the street. People are swarming with stacks of and counting cutlery before placing sets on each place. Pennant chains with fairy lights are hung across the windows of the second floors while young boys are leading a caravan of donkeys laden with wood to the center of the street. There’s a huge fire pit with a grill rack. The old lady sits in her window and watches it all unfold with a dreamy look, just like me.

I snuck up on Cass and peeked at his notes enough times to know he’s planning a big barbeque for the whole neighborhood and everyone else that feels like coming along. 

Half a year ago he ordered hundreds of pounds of different kinds of meat from the local farmer. For months he stood in the kitchen at night, testing out new recipes for marinades. It was so cute – he had my pink apron on, his hair frizzled like he touched lightning with his back to me, while he tasted and re-seasoned his creations. He asked the grandmas in our neighborhood to cut vegetables for the skewers and their grandchildren are preparing apples to be grilled in tin foil and dough for stickbread. 

“A little bit higher.” Cassian yells to the man on the second floor to put up the girland an inch higher just before extending his hand and giving him a thumbs up. A class of the elementary school brings self made bouquets of small flower vases and places them on the tables too along with the hand painted napkins they did as a project. A woman I know as Natalie tips him on the shoulder and asks him where to put the cake that’s gonna be served at midnight - at his birthday. He genuinely smiles at her and gestures to her to a certain point on the wall of a house. She nods and leaves while he calls the teen neighbor boy to him and asks him if he would bring down his desk, so the birthday cake can be presented there. Right at that moment, Mr. Smith, the owner of the best bakery in Velaris comes around the corner, to bring his own stone-oven around. It’s set on rolls and three people have to tow it into position. Cass hugs the man and gives male-handshake-hugs to every one of them as a greeting.

I see that as my opportunity to get out there and make him take a break for a second. I place some stacked glasses, some sherry and water on the large tray along with a pile of sandwiches and hurry outside before I get the cups and cans with freshly brewed coffee for the helpers.

I place everything on a small table on the street beneath our kitchen window, so they know they can serve themselves for their well earned breaks when suddenly strong arms wrap around me. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Cass mumbles in my ear from behind, burying his face in the crook of my neck. He gives me enough room to turn around, so I can wring my arm around his shoulders. “You’re thanking me? I literally did nothing compared to you.” I giggle and yank him down to place a kiss on his cheek. 

“You take care of me. That’s more than anyone else had ever done.” he tells me under his breath and I smile up at him. I smile up at the man who takes care of everyone. The man who invites practically the whole city to his birthday-barbecue, where he’ll be the grillmaster (wearing my pink apron) and serving flame grilled steaks with a smile on his face. 

I smile up at him. “I love you, almost birthday-Cass.”

He smiles down at me and kisses my nose “Happy-non-birthday YN.”

tags @donnadiddadog

She was from the farthest corner of Illyria and I would have never met her if I hadn’t introduced female training. 

In the first week, I hiked with them over the mountains to school them with survival training. The group quickly stepped forward but YN lagged behind. The conditions were hard and she constantly fell to her knees due to the weight of her backpack. Her hands and knees were scratched and bloody and she huffed from exhaustion, I was afraid she could faint every moment. But I saw something in her eyes, even if she couldn't.

Her breathing was laboured as she failed to push herself up from the freezing ground. I couldn't watch it any longer. This wasn't to sort out the weak. My wings sliced the air as I flew back to her, finding her crushed on the ground with shaky legs and a defeated look in her eyes. I’ll never forget her frightened face. She was afraid that I’d throw her out and send her back home. I extended my hand, pulling her up and taking the huge bag from her shoulders, adding it to mine. 

After walking beside her in silence, she told me the reason she joined the warriors,why she was afraid to fail and be sent home. Because of her rare features she was seen as highly valuable to the outdated minds of some Illyrians. Her father would have traded her off to the highest bidder and the ones who paid the most were just equally cruel. She remained spared from the clipping, because it should have been a  disgusting wedding gift for her soon-to-be-husband. The ultimate leash to force her into a cage with no hope of escaping. 

But as soon as I accepted her enrollment she was under my protection, a server of her court, and no longer chained to her family. They weren't allowed to touch her anymore and she beamed like the stars at solstice on her first day. I made it my mission to protect her and give her the chance to grow, so she could stand up against other males and be a part of one of the greatest accomplishments in Illyrian history. A female warrior.

Still, she was by far the weakest out of the females but she never gave up. Oftentimes I watched her train at night, all by herself, repeating what I’ve taught her while the others were asleep. Her frail body betrayed her more than once as she was punching puppets in the ring and stumbled over her feet. Her dedication inspired me, that’s when our private sessions started. Always only the two of us under the light of the crescent moon. I cautiously taught her to fly and she got stronger with every day.

But apart from that, what really intrigued me was her good heart. She was the kindest of them all.  Leaving others behind was never on the menu to her. Her skills in strategy and her cleverness impressed me and we talked for hours when I trained her. We grew into friends, but I knew my heart wanted more. 

Figuring out not to let my feelings for her be seen to anybody, I think I was harder on her during group training. I pushed her harder than the others to veil my glances and hoped they would never notice my racing heart whenever I was near her. The way her soft eyes glared at me when I made her do extra rounds pinched my gut. A part of her must have hated him. And I hated myself too, for that. 

It was highly unethical to make a move while she was in training. There weren't any official rules but a relationship that differed from a professional one would have thrown a false light onto her – so I kept my feelings locked away. But I never missed her lingering gazes and her small smile when I was near nor the innocent touches that lasted just a second too long to be just friendly. She was fun and we quipped at each other in the middle of the night, almost doubling over laughing like younglings. She felt that connection, too. 

My heart is racing and I hope that she will be back soon. Every female that endured ten years of training has to take part in the Bone Fight – The equivalent to the Blood Rite. For the past three days I haven't slept one second, too afraid of what was happening to her. Me and everyone from Windhaven has gathered around the glowing rift in the air, the portal that sends those back here who won the Fight. Time is running out, she has mere minutes left. Lesser of my female warriors than I anticipated are coming back. 

It was me who bound her beautiful wings with care while she was out before the ritual started. I pray to the Mother that she’ll win and return. I trust in her powers but I’m ill with worry that she gets hurt or worse. But I can't allow my mind to spiral into that darkness. 

Another female falls through the rift and I’m riled up, my hands are shaking and the time is almost up. I can't bear the thought of telling her mother that YN didn't make it. I’m panicking. I can't lose her. I regret not coming clear to her about my feelings.

The portal shrinks and I hide the tears that well up in my eyes. I can’t breathe.

Then, just before the rift closes, she drops through. Her legs give in and she has scratches everywhere. Strands of her wild hair are sprawled out on the crunching leaves of the fall. She’s bloody and her leathers torn, but alive.

My head swims and holding back is impossible. I storm towards her, gathering her little body in my arms. Her eyes flutter with exhaustion before her weak hands fly around my neck. 

She made it.

Cheers allude from the bystanders, their applause echoing in the mountains. I make sure she’s fine, setting her down on one of the benches before I step onto the makeshift stage, beginning my speech to congratulate the winners. Now, they’re officially the first female warriors. 

The celebration begins in the central place that is set up with bonfires and tables. Everyone takes a seat on the richly filled tables and they clink their glasses to lionize them.

I look around but YN is nowhere to be seen in the sea of Illyrians. I grab a bottle of whiskey, hoping that she would celebrate her win with me. I’m airborne in a second and observe the crowd. Then, I spot her. She vanishes behind the treeling after she walks away from the festive gathering. 

Thin branches snap under my boots.

The forest is quiet.

Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the hollow kind, the kind that rings in your ears after all screams have died down. The kind that settles in your chest and stays there like ash. 

I follow the faint trail of disturbed leaves and small prints. I feared that she wouldn't be at the celebration. Her eyes were too wide, too haunted and she slipped away before anyone could stop her. Then I find her, sitting on a moss covered stone, her arms wrapped around herself, pearly white wings folded neatly and her back turned to me. 

“...You missed the part where everyone drinks until they pass out,” I say softly, trying not to scare her away.

Her head snaps up but she doesn't turn around. I lower my voice and choose my words carefully. 

She didn’t turn around. “I brought you a bottle. Thought you might want to throw it at me. Or drink it. Depending.”

Her shoulders tremble and a bitter laugh leaves her lips, sharp but quiet. “I don’t deserve to celebrate,” she murmurs. “Not after what I did in there.”

I step closer, slower than usual, afraid that she might run away. She looks so small like that… still armored and splattered with dirt and blood that isn't hers. Crouching beside her, I set the bottle aside. I keep my hands by myself, not touching her while softening my voice. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Silence stretches as she stares off into the woods. “I killed her,” she whispers. “One of the girls. She came at me, and I… I didn’t even hesitate, Cassian. I drove my knife straight through her ribs. I looked into her eyes while I did it. And I think she saw that I wanted to live more than I wanted to be good.”

Then she looks at me, tracks of tears streak down her face. “What does that make me?”

My breath catches and my gut turns at her words. I sit beside her, my thigh brushing hers. I inhale deeply and sigh “It makes you alive. It makes you someone who survived something no one should ever have to. It makes you a warrior.”

She squints her eyes, pressing tears away as she shakes her head. “I don’t feel like one. I feel like a monster.”

“You are not a monster,” I say it like a prayer. “Don’t ever say that.”

Her voice cracks and her arms tightens around her middle. “But I –I was the soft one, remember? The one who couldn’t hold her blade right. You said my heart was my strength.”

“It is,” I say gently, hoping that my words would sink into her. “It still is. You just... had to protect it, this time.”

Her eyes are focused on her blood-stained hands as if she's seeing them for the first time. Sorrow and disgust wash over her face. “I keep thinking about the look on her face. And if it had been me instead. If she would’ve cried for me.”

My heart breaks clean in half. I can’t contain it anymore. I reach for her hands slowly, giving her time to pull away, but she doesn't. My brows furrow as I clear my throat, straightening my voice. “You didn’t choose this fight. But you finished it. And you came back with your heart still intact. Don’t let them take more than they already did.”

Her breath shakes and her hand squeezes mine hard. “It’s just... it’s all too loud in my head, Cass.”

I shift, turning my face to her fully. “Then let me help quiet it.”

Our eyes meet and I gaze into her reddened ones. Fuck I havent realized how long I’ve been holding back. I buried my feelings for ten years, brushed our small moments aside. But one specific night comes crushing inside of my head… she looked at me like I was more than the general, more than a weapon, more than just the one who trained her.

I had loved her for so long. My throat closes as I try to swallow and my voice breaks. “I wanted to run after you right the second the Fight began. I was afraid that you’d get injured, that you’d get…”

I stop those thoughts, they’re too painful and luckily in the past. “I wanted to save you and tell you…that I love you.” 

Her lips part and she just gazes at me. Eyes wide and a frown on her face.

“I have for a long time. Since the first time you fell on your knees from the weight on your back. Since you got up again anyway. Since you stitched someone else’s wound before your own.”

“I…I thought I was imagining it,” she whispers while fresh tears spill again and a sad smile stretches her chipped lips.

“You weren’t,” I assure her. “I was just too much of a coward to say it. I thought I needed to stay your commander. But I don’t want to be that anymore. Not to you.”

She sucks in a shaky breath as we get lost in each other's gazes. Her little hand cups my cheek. “I love you, too. I think I have from the moment you saw something in me when no one else did. When I didn’t.”

I slowly lean in, giving her room to close the distance. Her pretty eyes fall shut and our lips meet. Soft and trembling, tasting of salt and fear and relief. It mended my heart for all the time we couldn't be close to each other – like coming home. 

My hands reach around her, pulling her impossibly closer. Our lips move against each other and my heart misses a beat, it’s like I can feel a part of her settling deep inside of me. 

We breathe apart, out of breath when our foreheads press together while our eyes stay closed. 

“You survived. Now let me help you live.” I promise.

Then Cassian heard pans and pots clinking against each other in a metal cacophony and a smile spread on his face. He unfurled his wings and stretched out his limbs before he got up, not caring to put on any clothes. The noises from his kitchen guided him through his cottage and as he saw you, he stopped his movements. He leaned against the frame and a content warmth grew in his chest as he watched you by the stove - your back to him, only dressed in his shirt…the slits for his wings giving a nice view of your bare skin beneath. Your hair was down and your shoulders relaxed as you cracked some eggs into a hot pan. 

The smell of bacon, toast and beans drifted made his nostrils flare and you looked so sexy with that combat knife in your hand cutting fresh tomatoes and mushrooms. The way you effortlessly hypnotized his body, calling him towards you set him into motion. Without a sound he sneaked towards you like he was the predator and you were his prey. You were flipping the eggs when Cassian pressed his powerful front to your barely covered back. You jumped at the sudden contact, fully unaware that he was awake already. “Good morning, sweetheart.” he whispered as his chin rested on your shoulder while his hands drove up your thighs until they wrapped around your waist beneath the fabric. 

“‘Morning handsome.” you chirped softly and your hand cupped his chin, your thumb drawing circles over his stubble. You loved how it felt under your touch, soft and rough at the same time - your mind drifted back to last night and how it felt between your legs. Your thighs clenched and your heart rate shot up under his touch just when you felt yourself dampen for him again. “Sorry that I wasn't there to cuddle but you slept so calmly and I didnt want to wake you up yet.”

Cassian hummed in response and his hands snaked over your peaked nipples, giving them a light twist. The soft moan he pulled from you made him hard again instantly and you felt his cock pressing against your ass. “You know I should punish you for getting up early. I wanted to keep you for another round, you know that?” he rasped in your ear.

You chuckled at his intriguing threat. “We can do that after breakfast, Cass.” You said and nudged your head against his. You enjoyed that you couldn't get enough of each other, even after so many years together. But you wanted to take care of him, especially when he came back from a mission late last night. You wanted to spoil him and make him his favorite breakfast - you knew he never ate real food when he was gone. 

“Fine.” he answered, knowing that this wasn't a battle he wanted to pick. He let his calloused palms drift over your silky skin again, your breasts, stomach and waist and south, to your thighs and your glorious ass. “I missed you so much.” he said and pulled her closer to him.

“I missed you too, babe.” you turned your face enough to press a slow kiss onto his pillowy lips. You lived for those intimate moments - he was the general of the night courts forces - hard and unyielding, tough and powerful. But when he was with you, he allowed to show his other side - caring and loving, soft and thoughtful.

You put everything from the pans onto two plates, steaming and smelling like heaven just before he turned you around to the kitchen island, trapping you in his arms and against the counter. His hands found the back of your legs and you were lifted onto the sleek stone surface. Your legs spread for him, giving him space to step between them and your arms flew around his shoulders, playing with the wild strands of his loose curls. 

It was like a train hitting you as you looked into his beautiful eyes - browns and greens and sprinkles of gold gazed at you with a soft expression so drunk on desire. You lifted your chin to capture his mouth with yours. “I’m happy you’re home.” you said between kisses. “I’ll never let you leave again.”

Having you like this was paradise for him and he swore to himself that he would die a happy man if his heart stopped right now - having the girl of his dreams right here in his arms. “I don't want you to.” he whispered with a hoarse voice, still tinted with slumber. “I love you so much.”

Every time meeting her along with the rest of the inner Circle he stopped glancing at me with that glow in his eyes. Those looks that once belonged to me were shifted to her and he did a shit job at hiding it. But that was just the beginning. The little house you bought together in Velaris centuries ago seemed colder than ever before and it wasn't the fresh layer of snow that sat on the windowsill. Usually he got me jewelry for solstice - earrings with a matching red gemstone on a necklace, rings that would complement the delicate wedding band I wore on my finger since the happiest day of our lives. This year he got me a cute little snow globe with figures of us in the center for solstice, he must have forgotten that he gave me the exact same thing years ago even though it was sitting on the desk in the entryway of our home. I was furious when I found out that he spent month’s looking for her fucking present.

The last nail in the coffin that was our relationship was when he was ordered to train her every day at the house of wind. On normal days, he would wake up early to make time to cuddle with me in bed. Now he got up early, kissed my cheek goodbye and went to the house of wind to share breakfast with her. He stayed until the early afternoon and went to the illyrian camps to make sure his rules were followed. I made dinner but I found myself more times eating all alone, leaving his once deliciously steaming portion at the counter top for him to eat up when he came home late. I began waiting for him in the living room, to share the remaining evening with him but when he returned later every day, I found myself lying between the cold sheets that faintly smelled of him. My pillow was wet and salty from the tears that I could not hold back any longer. Purple bags under my eyes greeted me in the mirror mockingly and my appetite elapsed. Her scent was all over him, even when he showered for half an hour and I knew that something was wrong. We fought about it and he promised to be there for me more but even the wall shattering make up sex didn't erase the insistent illusion of a person that wasn't me.

I was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, my legs dipping nervously as my nails dug into the glossy finish of the copper bathtub as I stared at the small test sheet that stared back at me from the sink. One line. A second line. I gasped and my hand slipped over my mouth as my heart threatened to stop instantly. We wished so long for a babe and it finally happened for us. My heart skipped a beat and my hands wrung around my belly, even if it didn't show any sign of my early pregnancy. This was our escape exit into a happy future together. Just the three of us.

I dug through my closet to find a nice dress for the evening but nothing matched my joy, so I grabbed my trenchcoat to get something appropriate at the Palace of Thread and Jewels. The smile on my face beamed as I made my way through the cobblestone streets, even as the thick flakes of snow disheveled my freshly cut hair.

As soon as I was home I cooked Cassian his favorite dinner and got the desert we shared on our first date. I regarded myself in the mirror - A beautiful white glittering dress hugged my figure perfectly and the bags under my eyes were gone. Red drops of gemstone dangled from my ears, he bought them for me a week after we started dating.

Suddenly, keys turned in the lock of our door and Cassian came rushing in. His wild eyes drifted to me standing in the small foyer as if he didn't think that I would be still awake.

“Hey you.” he greeted me heavily breathing from the flight down to our home. He froze for a second and this chest heaved “I thought you were in bed by now.”

“It’s late but I have a surprise for you.I waited all day for you to come home.” I beamed at him and opened my arms, stepping closer to embrace him, but he stepped back. “I’m all sweaty, sweetheart.” he excused himself and began to dig in the drawers of the dresser.

I let my arms fall hesitantly to my sides, the hurt on my face replacing the smile I wore seconds ago. “Have you seen my dagger?” he turned around the drawer he had pulled out and dumped it all over the floor.

“Which one?” I chuckled at him. He just had too many and they were all hidden in every corner of our house - beneath his side of the bed, under every table we possessed and some that he smuggled into the pockets of my coats.

He exhaled with an annoyed huff “The one with the handle. With the white band around it and the black blade.” 

“We’ll find it tomorrow, darling.” you said calmly running your hands up and down his arms. “Come on, let me help you out of your armor. I made dinner and I need to tell you something.” My voice trembled in anticipation. He’ll curse himself later for his agitated behavior. I reached my arms around his middle and hid my face between that sweet spot of his wings. He still rummaged through the drawers as if I weren't there.

“I really have to find it.” he shoved my hands away and strode straight to the stairs, not even putting off his boots, smearing dirt all over the freshly cleaned carpet. I frowned but suddenly the smell of Nestas perfume filled my nostrils. She seemed to stay between us even if she wasn't even there. I let my head fall down and waited in the living room by the stairs, hearing him rumbling around his chamber where he stored all his bigger weapons. 

“Got it.” he yelled out excitedly and rushed down the stairs. I crossed my arms as he stood before me “You want to leave already?” I asked with a frown stepping aside for him, the defeatedness was written all over my face.

“Yeah, I have to get back to the house of wind. We’re training tonight.”

“What do you mean we’re training tonight? You’ve been away the whole day for training.” I spat and bit my lip ‘away for training her’.

"YN, please. You have to understand. This is important. They need me.” he snapped back at me and was halfway down the entryway.

“You mean Nesta needs you.” I retorted annoyed, fury burning my eyes.

“Don’t be like that.”

“Don't be like that? Cassian you’ve barely been home the last couple of weeks. What am I saying - you’ve barely been home the last months. I miss you and I thought we could have a nice evening together.” I restrained myself from letting my hands fall onto my belly.

He turned around, his shoulders tensed “I promise I’ll be home soon and then I’m all yours.”

“Cass please, stay. This is really important.” I begged him, tears lining my eyes.

He let out a defeated breath and stepped closer to me. I hoped that he finally understood that this was nothing that could be delayed. I brushed his hands, trying to get a hold of him and pull him into our living room to settle down and spend time with me but his hands slipped out of my grip. “I really have to go.”

Anger bubbled up and a knot built in my throat, my voice trembled. “What the hel are you thinking you’re doing? You are up there with her every fucking day, for hours. You reek of her all the time. We’ve been together for centuries and I’m your wife. Don't you think I’m entitled to wanting you to stay at home - with me?”

He stepped back again and he mirrored my anger. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m here all the time. Don’t make this harder as it has to be. We’ll talk later, okay?” he searched for my eyes but I couldn't hold his stare. 

“If you’re leaving now I won't be waiting for you tonight.” my voice broke.

But he stepped even further away from me, the door handle in his hand already. “I’ll be home in an hour and then I’m all yours, promise.” he said bluntly and ripped the door open before exiting and slamming the door shut behind him.

Seconds ticked away as I stared at the space where he's stood seconds ago. Tho cold air from outside sent goosebumps all over my skin. The mud from his boots mixed with the disarray of items that he dumped out of the drawers as the smell of the lukewarm roast I cooked for him mixed in with he acrid odor of the anger that has drifted from him. I felt the dagger he just took piercing my already broken heart. The dagger that was wrapped with the white tie Nesta cut a week ago.

I felt smaller than ever, standing in the chaos of our lives that had drifted apart. My knees gave out and I sank to the floor, the white dress soiled and black smears bit into the soft fabric as I hid my face in my hands. My other hand drifted to the unborn babe that once was sealed into me by the love of my life. 

I did not know how much time passed when I got up on shaky legs, making my way up the stairs. I pulled out bags and filled it with my belongings. The door handle was as cold as ice as I stared back at the lovely home we built together before stepping out into the now storm that raged over the City of Dreams.