#ld writes

Cassian’s blood hummed with the coming battle, his body still writing with their victory in the Summer Court. It wasn’t the first of this war, but it was certainly one of the most important. Hybern’s attack against Summer had been swift and vicious, the Prythian forces winning by a narrow margin - too narrow for his liking. Then they’d learned Hybern was headed to Winter.  The march had been brutal, transporting that many soldiers and supplies across courts was a logistical nightmare. Cassian had refused to fly ahead until the last stretch, not wanting to leave his men unguarded.  And now they had one night to camp, one night to try and rest from their northern push before they could fight once more. Rhysand’s glamor still held, so at least they’d have the element of surprise. 

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“We’ve got time.”  Nesta’s words echoed through Cassian’s mind. He sat on the chaise before the fire, flinching with each crack of the wood not for himself, but for the trauma he knew it caused her. With each log she added he felt an overwhelming sense of failure. He’d let himself get so cold she had to confront this fear. And he was too weak to stop her from taking care of him. He needed it too much.  The sound of a rag dunked in water followed by soft drips that he heard, then felt against his skin broke through the numb fog of Cassian’s brain. Instead of pulling him toward the present, it sent him back to a day he simultaneously longed to remember and had tried to forget.  His wrist throbbed, but the pain was minimal compared to the soldiers who’d fallen around him. He knew the mud that coated his face was mixed with more than water, that he wore the blood of the fallen.  “You’re hurt.” “It’s fine.” It was a lie and not. His wrist would be fine, but would he? Cassian denied knowing the answer to that question. “And it’ll be fixed by morning.” Then Nesta offered her hand to him for the first time. Slowly, hesitant about the implications or lack there of, Cassian held out his arm. He tried to fight back the hiss that escaped when Nesta’s gentle fingers began to probe around the swollen wreck that had been his wrist.  “How do I fix it?”

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The bell above the boutique jewelry store door jangled sweetly as Cassian and Azriel pushed it open. Cassian felt entirely too large to be such a small room littered with delicate displays and glass tabletops. He curved his shoulder in, trying to make his frame take up less space. Azriel instantly noticed and rolled his eyes at him.  “Come on, you’re being ridiculous.” “What if I knock something over, Az? I don’t want to break anything!” Cassian hissed in a half-whisper as Azriel pushed him further into the shop, letting the door swing shut behind them.  “Then don’t break anything, Cass!”  “But—” Az turned on him. “No buts. We’re doing this, and we’re doing it together okay?” Cassian couldn't help the smirk that lifted up the side of his lips. “I love it when you get bossy.”  “I know you do,” Az responded, the feral glint Cassian recognized all too well shining in his eye. “So be a good boy, don’t knock anything over, help me pick a ring, and we can get home to play.”  His breathing picked up, chest heaving as Cassian tried to control his response to Azriel using those words on him. “You can’t do that to me in public,” he said, moving his hand in front of his obviously tenting pants.  Az leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “I can, and I will. You love it.”  “I do,” Cassian responded with a smile, his lips brushing Azriel’s as he spoke. 

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Sunlight streamed through the billowing curtains that framed the balcony of Nesta’s room. Her face warmed beneath its rays. The gentle glow pulled her tenderly from the deep sleep she’d finally begun to find each night. Beside her was a fresh glass of cool water, courtesy of the House of Wind. It was only in the surprisingly intuitive magic house that she finally felt safe enough to let her body rest. But this peaceful deep sleep had taken all of the nearly ten years since she’d moved in to achieve.  The water touched her lips when she took a sip. It was such a small thing, being able to enjoy cooled water. These little moments reminded her how far she’d come since those freezing waters stole her human life and thrust her into this fae world. The years between the start of this new existence and the aftermath of the war that nearly cost her everything felt simultaneously like seconds and an eternity, and though it’d been almost twenty years, sometimes it still felt like yesterday. A shiver ran down her spine as she folded the blankets back, baring herself to the chill wind coming from the open doors. She loved sleeping with a breeze, the colder the better to help her sleep. Back when she’d been living in her apartment, it had been too dangerous. The first few nights she’d tried more than the wind had found its way inside. She pushed the sheets back further, along with the intrusive thoughts.  As she pulled on her tight pants and bound her breasts, Nesta remembered just how bad it had gotten, and how she’d wound up living here.  “She’s unstable!” Rhysand yelled. Nesta flinched on the other side of the dining room door where her family was having breakfast. She’d decided today was the day she’d tell Feyre just how bad things were, how much she was struggling. Nesta had wanted to save her sister the pain of it, had wanted to hide her failures, but it had gone too far. Here she was crawling with her proverbial tail between her legs to ask the person she’d been placed in charge of all those years ago for help. And instead she’d found Feyre’s husband, no, Feyre’s mate, screaming about the charges she’d placed on their card. “If you won’t do something about her, I will,” the High Lord had continued. Another voice drifted through the crack, equally angry. “She needs help, Rhys! Can’t you see she’s suffering?”  Rhys scoffed. “Suffering with thousands of dollars of booze and a fresh male or several warming her bed each night.”  “That’s enough.” Feyre’s voice shouted. Nesta took two steps back in response, hugging her arms tightly around her too-thin frame. She knew Rhys was right, and so was Cassian. It hurt that things had gotten this far, but she was so lost and so unsure… The door before her opened and Cassian stormed out. He stopped suddenly when he saw her. From his expression Nesta could tell she looked as broken as she felt. “Nes-”  A single soft syllable from his lips and Nesta almost broke. But she wouldn’t, not here anyway. Forcing her arms to relax by her sides as she rolled her shoulders back, Nesta spoke as calmly as she could. “I came to speak with my sister.” 

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