#*nessiandrabble

Few men laughed and clanked their glasses together. The room swirled with the smoke of lit cigarettes and drunk wine. He coughed as tendrils of smoke entered his lungs.

Nesta looked disdainfully at the smoke, but did not comment, and he idly remembered how she loathed the private parties the castle held where the senators drunk to their hearts content. It had always been a facet of noble life that he knew she absolutely hated.

“I am going to find my friend and return, I'll be back in a second.”

“Honestly, you don't need to make me feel like a scared child who you're comforting. I can perfectly take care of myself.”

“It wasn't my intention,” he said as he walked away.

Cassian’s eyes scanned the area as he looked for any sign of Azriel anywhere. He debated asking around for him before deciding against it; it would only be unwanted attention drawn towards them.

He passed to where the small reception of the inn was then walked back to Nesta. He saw her eyebrows pulled into a frown and a tinge of alarm touched him before he recognized the expression for the pure exasperation it was.

“Do you think I can order these men to the dungeons under the guise of a royal decree?”

Sneaking a glance at the hoard of cackling men, he felt inclined to agree. The noise was distracting and his tired body absolutely screamed from exhaustion.

“I don't believe it would be appreciated, no,” he replied. “Come on, our sleeping arrangement are ready.”

A loud insistent knock kept banging on the door, rousing him roughly from his sleep. He grumbled low in his throat, stretching his back, and winced as the hard floor scrubbed against it. The noise continued causing Cassian to huff and sit up.

A quick look to the empty bed and the noise from the fresher told him Nesta was inside, probably splashing herself awake. He grabbed the dagger lying on the sofa, his senses alert. Knocking twice on the bathroom’s door he heard as the water stopped and Cassian knew that Nesta was getting her own dagger ready in her hand, and so moved to open the door.

“Azriel?” he whispered.

“Az,” he exclaimed happily, rushing to give his friend a bone crushing embrace. Azriel, quiet as ever simply pats his shoulder, though he too wraps his arms around him.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked, now that the elation of seeing his friend had lifted and alertness surged through him.

“It's been five years, Cass, and still subtlety is not your strongest suit.”

Rhysand stepped forward as he grinned, giving him a hug. “You didn't think your old friends would know when you came back home?”

He chuckled. “I was hoping to put your detective skills to the test.”

A throat cleared from behind them all and he closed his eyes, wincing. Without turning back, he was absolutely sure that Nesta was standing behind him, dressed impeccably as always no doubt, face void of emotion and one eyebrow raised.

And the fact that he could picture her expression perfectly, to the way her pinkie would be tabbing against her elbow filled him with confusion and warmth and the little bit of fright he always felt around anything that remotely relates to her.

Rhys and Azriel looked at her in disbelief and they sneaked a glance at each other out of the corner of their eyes. Their heads dipped in a respectful bow, murmuring, “your highness.”

He sensed himself moving closer to her, the blade that was still in his hand burning with its weight like the fire of a thousand suns.

Both of them did not speaks and it was Azriel who broke the silence, saying, “I believe it would be better if we spoke in privacy.”

Silence resumed through the closed room and Cassian could feel the tension as it plummeted each corner. All occupants studied each other with keen eyes, even Mor whose presence had always managed to turn the most stifling times into a more bearable passing was too, quiet.

“I believe a good question to start with would be how did you know who I am.”

Rhys’s eyes flashed to Nesta, a darkness coating them. They hold gazes in a duel.

“My father was part of the previous court, your majesty,” he spat the word like its poison. And Cassian suddenly found himself very, very tired. “I occasionally visited the castle. We might have met once or twice.”

Nesta’s burning glare didn't lessen in its intensity though they narrow in suspicion and a bit of contemplation.

Amren, who was sitting idly by observing, jumped in on the conversation. “The capital has fallen,” she said.

Nesta’s fingers dug in the arms of her chair, knuckles white as a sheet and her jaw clenched so tightly he feared she'd shatter her teeth. “What?” She croaked out.

“Shortly after the march on the castle started, the defense forces began to recede to a point that was worrying. Until any form of protection disappeared.”

“We were delivered this news a few hours ago,” Mor added.

Nesta up from her chair, the move abrupt. She didn't pace or even do anything, she just needed to change her position, to not feel like everything was falling apart.

“What else?” She asked. “What other news do you have?”

Rhys opened his mouth, whether to answer or argue, he didn't know. But the door was ripped before he could even a get a word out, ahead of flaming red rushing inside, one he recognized after several moments was Lucien.

“You will not believe it,” he said. a bit out of breath. “You won’t.”

“What happened?”

A grave look crossed Lucien’s eyes. “The enemy has declared a new kingdom.”

Cassian felt Nesta’s hand grip his own in fright and hopelessness and he squeezed, hoping the gesture would offer even the tiniest of comfort.

Lucien continued, “under the minister’s rule.”

A glass shattered.

Well, that is it for this one. I promise part 3 is in the works and hopefully this piece was good.

He knocked on the door waiting for the impending ‘come in’, entering swiftly into the queen’s royal office, the hint of cinnamon fragrance floating in the room. Patiently, he waited as she looked over various papers, and used the time to catalogue the exits the room offered.

Windows, doors, a fireplace.

Time continued to pass and he grew impatient, coughing slightly. The queen's eyes briefly glanced at him though just as quickly refocused on the stock of papers.

Her calm even voice asked. “What are you doing here?”

Inwardly, he sighed, his senses warning him of the impending argument to come, yet another one.

“I am tasked with guarding you at all times, your majesty,” he said.

Her shoulders tensed in irritation at the reminder of her ever permanent shadow and Cassian thought that she may stand up and slap him - he wouldn't put it behind her, even taking her shorter frame into consideration.

Uncharacteristically, she smiled at him sweetly, the small dip in the corner of her cheeks becoming prominent.

“Can I have my lunch in my chambers peacefully or does that require special authorization from you, seeing as you’ve become my unwanted guardian?” she asked in that honeyed venomous tone of hers.

Running the edge of his tongue along his teeth in ire, Cassian returned her retort in equal stride, “Of course not, my lady, I'd never deny someone the sanctuary of their space, what kind of gentleman do you think I am?”

He straightened his back before she could offer a reply, informing her of the route to their trip. Giving her the customary bow, he exited the room aware of the storm of the raging blades she shot him with her eyes.

Smoke and ash surrounded him, thick and suffocating and so so unbearable he thought he might collapse but that didn't stop him from running through the hallways of the palace like a madman.

Outside, he could hear the cries of the soldiers as they tried to infiltrate the place, kept at bay by the guards. Inside, the workers shuffled hurriedly as they ran to find shelter.

He took no particular notice in these things however, keeping up his pace until he came across the chief minister with a group of politicians around him. Though the man looked strangely composed even though half the city lay burning around them and the enemy's army were working to break into the ruling monarch’s domain.

The minister breathed what he assumed to be a sigh of relief when he caught sight of him. “Cassian. You must hurry for the queen’s chambers immediately and get her out. Under no circumstance should she stay here,” he instructed and Cassian nodded, already dashing for her secluded rooms.

Fortunately, he made it without stumbling into any opposing forces, flinging open the doors and not carrying in the slightest if he had broken them.

Nesta stood behind her desk, hair slightly pulled from the elaborate hairstyle it was weaved into, her eyes jaded with panic.

“We're leaving now, no arguments.” He did not know for how much longer the walls could withstand the assault they were enduring but it certainly couldn't be for that long. Eyes still focused on the heap of papers, Nesta nodded, mumbling a short ‘give me a minute’. Quickly, she pulled a few parchments into a modest looking sack before she approached him, taking his hand.

With crescendo of destruction chasing after them, they ran.

They did not rest until they reached the deep forest, sprinting. Cassian tried his best to evade the enemy's forces and so far he's been successful. Nesta on the other hand was getting tired and he knew he had to find some place for them to stay instead of the constant trees they slept under.

Passing another group of steep rocks, he glanced at Nesta out of the corner of his eyes. Her face was marred with paleness but her eyes were filled with anger, the panic that had possessed her days ago disappearing entirely, replaced with sharp calculation and pure unadulterated rage.

“What are you looking at?” she asked softly, twigs crunching underneath her feet.

He shrugged, not willing to relent and answer.

She eyed him strangely before huffing. “When are we going to arrive to that village you told me about?”

“We should reach it in a day’s time.”

“Joy,” she muttered.

“Is her majesty wishing for her carriage to come take her and save her sore feet?” he teased.

A hint of a laugh, small - almost unnoticeable - slipped along her words. “You're preposterous.”

“And you're spoiled with luxuries, your highness.”

Silence settled between them, one that was nothing like the uncomfortable periods of time that would make its way after a particularly long argument between them, the year he’d spent as the queen's protector not softening its awkwardness.

He tucked that thought away, not ready to deal with its implications. 

Except good moments never lasted for long and soon the place was filled with swarms of people and it quickly turned into the familiar busy shop it had always been. Alis greeted her as she entered, eyebrows raised in amusement as she spotted the stressed look on her face, notebook with the orders written inside in hand.

“I’ll take over.”

Relief flooding her, Nesta handed her the notebook all but flashing to the backroom.

Her apron tied neatly into a perfect bow by the straps, she began to prepare the drinks the customers ordered, groaning as she realized the espresso beans she needed were on the top shelf. As in the one that she couldn’t reach without the help of a chair and had she mentioned that she loathed her life because she absolutely did.

Yelping as her foot hit something hard, she looked down to see some sort of stool beside her leg and how did she not notice it when she entered, she had no idea.

Nesta bended to take a closer look. The wooden piece had ribbons tied around its legs, various deep colors that blended elegantly. And on the top there was a large N drawn in the center with little heart shaped carvings scattered around it.

It was some days after she discovered her very surprising though admittedly very thoughtful gift and although she didn’t breathe a word about it not to Feyre or Elain or even Alis. It kept nagging at her, her desire to find out who bought it almost unbearable.

Obviously, someone from the staff, that much was clear still who could it be? She wasn’t exactly the most loved person in the café and Alis was the only one whom she tolerated enough to interact with on a daily basis.

Breathing deeply, she blew away the strand of her hair that kept falling from her bobby pin, heading for the storeroom.

“You haven’t even told her, yet?”

A male sigh echoed through the room. “No, Mor.”

A brief period of silence settled between the two, and she felt her curiosity grew as she recognized the chirp lilt of Morrigan’s voice and Cassian.

Her enemy slash fellow colleague slash barb trader slash sort of attractive friend of her sister’s boyfriend who wasn’t at all that attractive. Much.

“Goodness, should I come and personally drag you to her?”

He groaned, irritation thick in his tone. “Mor.”

“Hey, you try listening to yourself for the past two hours and then we’ll talk.”

A biting edge accompanied Cassian’s next words “I didn’t call you to be mocked.”

She heard Morrigan sigh, exasperation breaking through her usually cheerful demeanor and okay maybe she should be off doing something, anything except eavesdropping but sounded like too much of good blackmail material for her to simply walk away. “I’m not mocking you simply trying to help. Only you’re much too stubborn to recognize that.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Cassian, you’ve had crush on Nesta for the past two years, you desperately need help.”

Nesta felt her eyes widening to a concerning degree at Mor’s blatant declaration, grasping the door’s handle tightly in disbelief.

“There are no crushes of any kind involved,” Cassian said, embarrassed.

“Yes and the little gift you left her is uttermost proof of that,” Mor retorted. “You know what my friend, I’m tired and going to sleep so if you don’t mind, I’ll be off doing so.”

With a click the call ended and Nesta felt the breath she held release, the shock not quite dimming as she swallowed. Cassian who she fought with more times than she could count had taken the time to bring her - no make it looked like it was made - something that helped her. Cassian whom she denied any sort of attraction for, have harbored an infatuation for her almost as long as they’d known each other.

She didn’t know what particular feeling dominated that line of thought.

Hesitantly, she stood in front of the entrance, watching as the man in question closed his eyes and sighed before tensing. His eyes locked with hers and for a moment she saw a tinge of fright in his eyes but he hid it neatly behind his usual arrogant, teasing attitude.

“Good morning, Nesta, darli-”

“Thank you,” she cut him before he could say anything else. (She’d get swept in the conversation and then never say those words and he needed to hear them, she needed to tell him.)