#nesquin

“Hi.” was what he’d first said to her the day they met. Now and then.

Encompassed the extent of most of their conversations, actually.

Though once, at one of Feyre’s games, he’d arrived late and asked nebulously for the score. She’d answered, “Ten, nil.” And the words had stuck with him, probably because no one from Prythian really used the word ‘nil’.

Years later, Tarquin sat in the underground airport parking, still an hour early. He listened to the radio warn about a possible storm passing through in a day or two; the last dregs of hurricane season before summer settled and Adriata flooded with tourists.

He picked up his phone and checked – for the fifth time that morning – the post he’d screenshot from Cresseida’s feed: a woman in a fur hat and coat, standing before a statue of soldiers in Rask.

He couldn’t read the caption, written in Scythian and screenshot before he’d thought to translate it. Though two attempts to find out had led him to the last man hanged by the Scythian monarchy two years before it was overthrown.

He zoomed in on her face, tried to commit the details to memory.

It was stupid. He'd already made a sign with her name on it so there was no way they’d miss each other. But because – in all the time he’d known her personally – he couldn’t remember actually seeing Nesta Archeron smile in person, the person in the picture was even more unknown to him than the stranger he was waiting for.

He’d been a freshman at PNU when he met Feyre and Lucien, and through them, their older siblings, Elain and Marcel.

But it had been through his own cousin, that he’d met Nesta, then Cresseida’s roommate, and Eris, now Cresseida’s fiance.

They’d been equally intimidating figures.

Nesta in particular had been so unlike her sisters – lacking Feyre’s playful charm and Elain’s calming warmth – that he, always a little more reserved than his friends, had only said one word to her. And hesitated about, or outright avoided, any interaction after.

Eris at least shared Lucien’s sardonic wit and sometimes wrangled Tarquin into a joke to get under Cresseida’s skin. In retrospect, his affection had been almost embarrassingly obvious. But for a while, Cresseida hadn’t been a fan of either, said Nesta was blunt and unsociable and that Eris was an arrogant asshole. The three of them locked into a tense academic rivalry.

So for the year and a half, he and Cresseida – three years ahead – had both attended PNU, he’d not interacted with Nesta much, outside of the occasional run in or match attendance.

But something had changed soon after Cresseida and Nesta had started their master’s programme, and even after the eldest Archeron had dropped out, the two had remained in touch.

Subsequently, his dealings with Nesta Archeron had remained minimal. Until now.

Now, he was about to pick her up and take her to his apartment, where he was going to have to live with her until they left for the island where Cresseida's wedding would be held.

A week. A week with a woman he barely knew and still hadn't managed to hold even a text conversation with.

His stomach tightened and he checked the picture. Again. The sixth time that morning.

What pulls me so much into Nesta x Tarquin is the way their values and desires secretly align, even though the books never really put them together. Tarquin has always been painted as a dreamer, a High Lord who isn’t content to just hoard power or follow tradition. He’s obsessed with freedom not just for himself, but for his people, for every species in Prythian. He’s one of the only rulers who openly talks about equality, about tearing down the old hierarchies and building something fairer, freer. That’s his heart: exploration, curiosity, knowledge, and a deep respect for life and then there’s Nesta. For all her thorns and walls, she has always carried a heart that is painfully, fiercely human. She knows what it is to suffer, to feel powerless, to be angry at the unfairness of the world. And she doesn’t bury that side of herself; it stays with her, shaping her choices. Pairing her with Tarquin creates this magnetic force because while he dreams of freedom in a political and cultural sense, Nesta embodies freedom in a deeply personal way. She wants to break out of the boxes she was shoved into, the roles she was forced to play, the cages she was born into. Together, they’d understand each other on a level that is more than romance it’s about liberation, both internal and external.

I keep imagining the scenes we never got: Tarquin taking Nesta onto a ship, not to impress her but to share his world with her. Teaching her about the stars sailors follow at night, showing her how to read the currents, telling her stories of the sea and of faraway lands. And Nesta, who grew up watching her father deal with commerce and trade but was never allowed to touch it, would finally get the chance to use that knowledge. She absorbed so much as a girl ships docking, merchants negotiating, the flow of goods and wealth but it was always kept out of her reach because she had to be a “lady.” With Tarquin, he’d admire it. He’d hand her the maps and let her chart the stars herself, and she’d thrive and I think Tarquin would be fascinated by her in return.

Nesta’s fire would clash with Tarquin’s water, but together they’d create balance, a harmony of opposites. I can see them standing side by side on the deck of a ship, wind whipping around them, maps spread out, arguing about constellations until the argument dissolves into laughter. I can see her surprising him with a clever observation about trade or navigation, and him looking at her like she’s the most brilliant person he’s ever met. I can see her curiosity about different cultures being fed by his desire to explore and connect, and the two of them building something new and beautiful together.

So I hope you all enjoy it

IT IS

This is the Nesquin fic sitting in development hell right now 🤣 but it’s THERE and it has a title, damn it!

Don’t mind me, just continuing my stroll down crackship lane.

Ok I’m like 1000000% sure I did this for my first thanksvember but FUCK IT. I remembered the pearl dust thing @flowerflamestars and I have FEELINGS again! When I tell you that this really just started out as some shitposting and @flowerflamestars had to turn it into a whole ass thing that I longed for? Absolutely rude. There was no reason for them to take it this far! Anyways, this is a Tarquin x Nesta crackship that ended up making waaaay too much sense. I absolutely loved it because it lets Nesta be with someone who let her be her most feral self, but loved her as deeply as the depths she feared. PLUS we got BFF Helion which is my favorite Helion. When I tell you that this fic actually gave me a biting kink- aaaanyways. This fic lets Nesta experience tenderness from a male that would have her for who she is, and give her a 1000th reason not to go back to the night court. In this universe Nesta is the librarian of the Dah courts library and she quite literally takes reading (and fucking) on the beach VERY seriously. I love that aspect because it allows Nesta to do what she loves in this narrative but also explores how that role would have her interact with other courts. Something that being an emissary never showed us (even though that is literally her job🙄). Moving on! One of my favorite parts of this fic (other wise than the pearl dust scene….I’m biased ok) was when Nesta and Tarquin talk about courting. I love how much of Tarquin’s past and understanding of healthy relationships is put into this. It’s tender and funny and just very sweet to read. There is nothing burdensome about the endeavor, and he places no needs or primal urges on her to care for. He simply wants her to be herself, just with him. And honestly that’s what made this fic so tender to me. Ok, now that I have thoroughly ruined this fic, go read it, or don’t. Lord knows I read this fic enough that flowers could put out a restraining order on me for it. But seriously, go read it! The crack ship is worth it! Thanks to @flowerflamestars once again for sharing 🖤🖤.

a playlist  for @flowerflamestars ‘s nesta + tarquin on the shoreless sea

she heals under the bright sun; her feet buried in the wet sun and her hand held by the only man who has ever proven to be worth her

and her happiness comes, as slowly and surely as the waves crushing the shore

une barque sur l’ocean from miroirs by andre laplante

oceansize by oh wonder

coastline by hollow coves

this love by taylor swift

anchor by novo amor

waking up slow by gabielle aplin

i’m ready to move on/wild heart by bleachers and susanna hoffs

gold rush by taylor swift

adore you by harry styles

cruel summer by taylor swift

king of my heart by taylor swift

i can fly by lana del rey

start of time by gabrielle aplin

blue blood by laurel