#cassianweek2026

Cassian rolled his freshly-taped shoulder, sitting on the bench with one boot tied and the other abandoned next to his foot, pretending to check the weather forecast but instead checking for any new messages, against his better judgement. His eyes roamed over his last exchange with Nesta, lingering on the unanswered question about who would win in a fight, a vampire or a zombie. He’d taken it too far, perhaps. Probably. He was almost completely convinced he ruined it for good, that she’d never talk to him again. Perhaps Azriel had been right, and this had been a stupid idea.

He’d really tried to stay calm and act normal about the fact that she hadn’t answered. He’d gone about his days. He’d done his usual pre-training ritual. He’d been perfectly normal, if he ignored the fact that he’d poured boiling water into a cup that morning and stared at it for almost five minutes, before remembering to put in the actual tea. He was also ignoring the fact that he’d listened to her voice note more times than he should admit, falling asleep to the sound of her voice ranting about Arthurian legends the night before. Cassian knew he wasn’t acting normal, lying on his back in bed with his phone on his chest and Nesta Archeron’s voice cutting through the dark, furious and precise and devastatingly posh, but he couldn’t help it.

He just couldn’t stop listening, and he couldn’t prevent the way she had him under her spell. He had thought, the first time he listened to it, that no woman had ever sounded more enraged about medieval pseudo-history while simultaneously sounding devastatingly concerned about his welfare. By the time he fell asleep, her voice had gone softer in his ear, not because she had softened—God forbid—but because sleep had sanded down the sharp edges. By the end, he’d listened to the rhythm of her voice more than the words. The clipped irritation, and the breath she took halfway through, as if she had realised how long she had been talking and considered stopping, only to continue because the point was apparently too important to abandon. The little, sharp emphases she put on certain words had made him grin into his pillow like an idiot. Around midnight, Cassian was pretty sure he’d probably listen to her tell him off about fraudulent relics, plague transmission, or the ridiculousness of fantastic creatures until the end of his natural life.

—————

There were more than I anticipated. Banners bearing the sigils of each camp fluttered in the wind, marking the clusters of all the different parties that have joined. 

Good. 

Today was the day of the Endless Sun, the Illyiran celebration of summer solstice. We Illyrians believe that the sun’s strength sharpens our endurance, clears our judgement and drives our courage. The books tell us that every battle that was won beneath the longest sun, was one that honored the Mother herself. She had gifted the Illyrians with wings to reach the sky and as much daylight to conquer the earth below. 

But it was not a day of war. Instead, the rival camps set aside grudges and met in contests of skill rather than bloodshed. We had competitions of all kinds: archery, endurance races and flights, wrestling matches with bound limbs and sword duels on cliffs. But not until death, but for glory and victory until every match ended with crossed forearms instead of spilled blood.

It was a day to remember that we were one people before we split into camps.

Thousands of them formed a perfect thick circle of leather clad fighters and left the center clear. I tucked in my wings neatly to drop down. The wind was howling in my ears as the ground drew closer. All heads tilted upward. At the last second, I unfolded my wings to soften my fall just a bit and landed with a ground shaking thud. 

As I straightened myself from the crouched position I landed in and rippled my wings, showing off my commanding power in spreading them wide for all of them to see, before snapping them in again. The murmurs died out . Everyone around me got in formation and saluted the Illyrian way.

I stilled for a moment, taking them all in.

And like they all rehearsed, they called in unison. “General.” Their one voice echoing off the mountains. 

I saluted them the same way before I spoke.

“It does an warrior’s heart good to see every camp standing together beneath the same sky.” I shouted loud enough for all of them to hear me, slowly turning around to address all of them. “Today, the sun grants us more light than every other day of the year. Our ancestors believed that every extra hour of light was a gift. Not for idleness, but to test ourselves. To fly farther!” They all shanted back every last word.

“To fight harder!”

“To become stronger!”

I let the stillness sweep in again before I got on. “Our ancestors understood something we should never forget. Strength is earned in training. Not in war. And honor is forged in discipline and not measured in opponents we slaughtered." The last word felt bitter on my tongue. Flashes of my rages tried to crawl up but I chugged them down. 

"So today, we do not spill Illyrian blood." I yelled with a firm voice. "We sharpen one another instead."

They yelled their approval, while drumming on their breast plate and a smile spread on my face as I began to end my speech.

"Beat your opponent fairly. Push your brothers until they curse your name. Win with pride. Lose with dignity. And if you lose to someone younger…" I shrugged dramatically and grinned. "Train harder before next summer."

A deep roll of laughter rolled across the field. 

"But when the last contest ends and darkness claims the mountains…" I took a moment and paused. "We eat together!"

Cheers erupted around me.

"We drink together!"

The cheers grew louder.

"And by the Mother, we remind every mountain from Windhaven to the northern peaks that no one celebrates like an Illyrian!" I raised my fist at the last words and drums began to echo as roars erupted.

Then I shouted over the crowd.” May today’s sun strengthen all of you. May today’s trials sharpen your spirit and may today’s fire remind us all that before we are warriors of different camps–”

I hit my fist against my chest. “ We are Illyrians!”

Like thunder the chants and roars struck the valley.

The games began and I was hassling around to spend some time at each game. Some invited me to a fight as a guest of honor. I didn't even have to try to win. 

The only exception I made was with the children… The time I spent there is precious to me as it reminds me of my beginnings in this camp. A bastard born, fighting every day for scraps, beating others for clothes and a better bedsheet to use as a tent, stealing embers to ignite my own little fire for some warmth to thaw my frozen limbs… They invited me for a fight and I stretched it, only using a fraction of my power and in the end…letting them win over me of course. 

I knew that the Illyrians were proud and never desired a win out of pity. But I’ve learned that they blossom from such small achievements. So, I let them overpower me and have their moment.

As the sun began its slow descent, the fires were lit again across Windhaven. The day of the fights was over. The night belonged to music, roast meat and overflowing casks of wine and ale. There’s storytelling and enough drinking games to leave even the seasoned warriors and captains stumbling. The camp would remain awake until dawn greets them once again. Then they’d have a good-days sleep.

I didn’t say goodbye to anyone before lying and saying I’m going for a loo. I headed for the nearest cluster of trees and soared through the sky soundlessly. The tension of the day subsided and I felt tired. This day wasn’t going to end.

My wings felt heavy and I thought I pulled a muscle while fighting the small ones. Usually, the way back felt as if time was passing faster. But that was not today. The length stretched on and on until I crossed the veil to Velaris again. 

The howling wind that froze my limbs was gone and the smell of jasmine, salt and the water of the glittering Sidra filled my nostrils. Only a speck of blue painted the horizon as I landed on the balcony of the House of Wind. I’d only got minutes left.

I quickly swapped my armor for a dress shirt and a pair of trousers. A quick splash of the well water to freshen up my face. Then I was jumping out of the window, letting my wings take the fall and swung through the warm air, heading towards the rainbow.

This day belonged to Illyria, this night belonged to Velaris.

The floorboards of the stage shuddered as I landed on it unelegantly.

“The last pint with your warriors was too much.” Rhysand mused as he was fixated on the small watch on his wrist. “Just in time. I have to give you that.”

“You know what day it is, Cassian.” Feyre sneered at me. Oh, we’re using legal names. She must be feral.

“Sorry, I got held up.” I huffed with slumped shoulders.

“Sorry doesn't cut it.” Az snapped from beside me, picking a feather from my shoulder. 

“We’ve all been waiting for you!” Mor scolded me. 

Mother save me!

The curtain in front of us was still closed, so no one saw me arriving late. The crowd in front of it must have been massive. Everyone in Velaris was here today. It was their day, too. Well...their night. 

Every year on summer solstice the Inner circle renewed their vows to the people of Velaris. The city had fallen silent as the curtains drew to the sides. Thousands were standing on the central place in the heart of the rainbow, along the banks of the Sidra and some were even perched on the ceilings of the houses. The wind ebbed down, letting the swinging lanterns still. The music had ceased and even the wind had stopped calling between the narrow cobblestone streets. 

Amren stepped onto the balcony first and held her speech. She vowed remembrance to the city. Fitting, I think, because of her age. How old was she again?

When she finished, Mor stepped forward and took Amren’s hand, like our self made ceremony demanded it. She promised Welcome to the people. She was the embodiment of freedom, joy and refuge and stood for a life without fear. After her, Azriel vowed to keep them secret, Rysand vowed to lead and Feyre vowed to nurture. 

She stretched out her hand, waiting for me to step into the stage light. 

I lined myself up with them and for a heartbeat, I simply looked at the people below. My people.

“My family beside me has each promised to guard Velaris in their own way.” I said with a small smile pulling the corners of my lips upwards.

“I’ve never been the one with beautiful words.” The people of Velaris laughed gently at my honest words. “So, I’ll give you the truth instead.”

Suddenly, the crowd grew silent. I hadn’t even prepared a speech like the others did. I was bad at this. Shit. They were all watching me…

“I was born in an Illyrian war camp where males were taught that strength was measured only by brutality and battles. But this city taught me different. It taught me that true strength is measured by compassion and the will to retaliate and love, even if the whole world’s screaming at you, telling you otherwise.”

I let my eyes roam to the kids on their parents shoulders, the teenagers on the roofs, to the woman that held her grandmother in her arms.

“The laughter in the streets. The music drifting from open windows and strangers singing alongside. The artists painting until dawn. The children who have never known war.” My pause let the eerie stillness settle into all our bones. “That is what I fight for. So tonight, before the Mother, before my High Lady and High Lord, before My Mate and my family… before my city and my people…”

I took another deep breath. “I renew the same vow I made decades ago. The vow that no enemy will reach these streets, no child nor elderly will stand alone! And should darkness ever come for this city again, it will have to fight me first. I vow to be your shield!” At that, I took Feyre’s hand to connect the Inner Circle at last. Joined as one again.

As my last words echoed off the streets, the crowd answered with roars of celebration. Firecrackers flew through the air and the music came to life again. The people cheered and clinked their glasses of champagne as they began to dance and sing. Strangers became best friends over a shared pipe, old enemies forgave one another and cousins who haven't seen each other in years clung together like they’ve never been separated. No one celebrated alone. 

After that, we ran down the stairs to throw ourselves into the crowd. I could tell from the faint expression on Azriel's face, that his wings hurt too from tucking them in neatly and protecting them from others falling and stumbling in our backs. But we sang along and celebrated with the people, listening to their drunken offerings of thanks and praises. I’ve lost the others more times than I’d like to admit but that was okay. I was amongst my people. Just a special one was missing.

Suddenly, I felt that distinct tug against my ribs. So gentle, so calm. I turned my head towards the street that would lead me away from the cheering crowds.

It was time to go home. Truly home.

I clawed my way through the sea of bodies to find a spot to swing my wings wide and soar through the sky.

The songs grew quieter, the lights dimmed behind me. And finally, I landed on the cobblestone street in front of the picket fence that I just painted last week. Fireflies bumbled through the bushes of blooming lavender that greeted me as I turned the knob of the front door to let myself in. I peeled out of my overheated shoes and abandoned my beer spilled shirt and trousers in the powder room downstairs. I washed my hands and turned the light on the porch off before I headed upstairs. Following the fragrance of gorse, I crossed the doorway into the bedroom, finding my beautiful mate inside our bed. Just as I left her.

My heart filled with joy, imagining her sleeping in, enjoying a cup of tea on the porch and reading until it was time for lunch and feeding the strays before getting cozy on the sofa. Maybe she went for a walk in the garden and the market to get some produce to cook a meal – I’m sure she left something on the stove – and then taking a bath and getting ready for bed. 

A single lit candle flickered on the nightstand as she was sitting against the headboard, smiling dearly at me.

“Hey sweetheart.” I greeted my mate, the mattress dipping as I sat down on my side. 

“Hey, handsome.” Her voice was like honey to a sore throat. “How was your day?” She reached out and cupped my cheek. I leaned into her touch.

“Fine. But never ending. I’m happy that I’m home.” I said exhaustedly and got under the covers. 

“How are you?” I asked, smiling at her. Then my eyes drifted lower. “You two?”

The duvet fell as she exposed her middle section, her hands falling on her belly. “We’re good. But it’s getting a little uncomfortable right now.” She smiled through the rambling inside of her.

I took her in my arm, my other hand sprawling across her swollen belly, the babe kicking against my hand as if scolding me for coming home too late.

“I’m sorry little one.” I crouched down to whisper to my unborn child. “Not long and I’ll have you in my arms. We can fight and dance together. Sounds good?”

A kick answered me.

“I’m due a week now. You promise you’ll be home next week?” She asked me with her cute scrunched nose as our babe turned and kicked inside of her.

“Yeah. I’m home.”