#romanceweek

For the longest time, Cassian had thought love didn’t exist, at least not for people like him, bastard-born nobodies whose highest aspiration was to beat another kid bloody and steal his clothes. 

The idea of having a mate, a soulmate, a person who was your equal in every way, had a bitter laugh huff out of him. 

What was love anyway?

Cassian had a vague memory of it - the ghost of a kiss on his forehead, the distant echo of softly-spoken words. But with every passing day, that memory drifted further and further away, and Cassian slowly forgot what being loved felt like. 

His father, whoever he was, certainly hadn’t loved his mother. He had possessed her, used her, and then thrown her away like spoiled goods. If Cassian ever met his father, he would kill him. He would do it for his mum, for that woman who had been broken time and time again, until her body had given up on her. Killing his father to avenge his mother. Maybe that was love, his own twisted version of it. 

The first time Cassian had seen Rhysand walk into camp, new, clean training clothes and chin held high, he had hated him. He had kept hating him even when Rhysand had brought him to his house, providing him with food and shelter. Cassian had swallowed his pride and accepted Rhysand’s help. He didn’t need anyone’s pity, but refusing an opportunity like that would have been foolish. He’d take being pitied if it meant his stomach would be full and his clothes clean, at least for a few weeks, until Rhysand got tired of playing brother and kicked him out. 

Cassian hadn’t let himself lean into Rhysand’s mother’s touch, hadn’t dared believe he might have found love again. This is only temporary. Don’t let yourself hope. 

But as time passed, Cassian had learned to use cutlery, make his bed, read a book. He had realized he didn’t need to steal Rhysand’s leathers because each boy had their own. That when Rhysand’s mum told him, you are my son, she meant it. 

He had started believing that maybe, just maybe, he had found his forever home. 

Everything had changed when a boy with scarred hands and a haunted look had shown up at camp. Cassian and Rhysand were just starting to get along, but it was when they’d met Azriel that everything had clicked into place. The three of them together against the world. Different, stronger, faster, and a little fucked up. Brothers in everything but blood. This was love. Knowing that despite the insults the world spewed at him every day, despite all the bad hands life dealt him, someone had his back. Waking up in a forest with his wings tied behind his back, and fighting tooth and nail to find his brothers, because there was no way he could leave them behind. 

It was when Cassian had finally found Rhysand and Azriel and discovered that they too had been looking for him, that they hadn’t forgotten about the bastard-born nobody, that they’d killed for him, to get back to him, that Cassian had cried of happiness for the first time in his life. Not angry, bitter tears, but tears that came from knowing he was truly loved. That he wasn’t alone anymore. 

Cassian might have accepted he’d found the missing parts of his soul in his brothers, but centuries later, he still believed himself undeserving of a mate. He’d had many lovers - females and males - but their names and faces all blurred together. Only two names stood out: Tanwyn, the bold-hearted Valkyrie with a smile like a storm*, and Morrigan, the golden-haired dreamer born in the court of Nightmares*. The former was his first true love, the latter his biggest mistake. 

For the longest time, when Cassian thought about his future, he saw weapons, torn flesh, the sound of shouted orders on a bloody battlefield. He saw emotionless fucking against a wall, his wings pulled back so his lovers wouldn’t try to touch them without permission. He saw sparks of happiness too, faelights glinting in the darkness, making his life worth being lived. Laughter, snowball fights, music, the wind howling in his ears as he conquered the skies, his brothers at his side. But at the end of the day, a bottle of wine and his bloody knuckles were his only companions. At least he had a roof above his head, a bed to sleep in, food in his belly. And a title, something he never, ever took for granted. General Commander of the Night Court Armies. Sometimes, it scared him - this power that could change the outcome of a war, words, and actions that could either save lives or send thousands of people to their deaths. Was he worthy of his role, worthy of his power? Cassian wasn’t sure. All he knew was the song of battles that flowed through his veins when he fought, those ancient, innate instincts that told him how and when to move, where his opponents would strike next, what his weakness was. Maybe war was his soulmate. 

Turns out war wasn’t his soulmate. It was Death, terrible and proud, beautiful as a winter sunrise*. From the first moment he’d seen her, Cassian had known that Nesta Archeron would destroy him, tear him apart, claw at everything he knew, everything he was. And he would gladly let her because she would also put him back together, make him anew, giving him everything he craved, everything he needed. 

That day in the human lands, Cassian’s knees had buckled under Nesta’s piercing stare, his entire being trembling in front of the devastatingly beautiful human woman who hadn’t cowered under the gaze of a creature she’d been taught to hate all her life. That’s what Cassian had been for her at the time - a winged creature, the monster her people ran from. Nesta hadn’t run. She’d stood her ground, kept her chin held high despite the paralyzing fear that had made her stomach twist in knots. Cassian had scented her terror, and he’d felt the urge to make himself smaller, less threatening, tone down his swagger so Nesta would know he had no intention of hurting her. But, instead, he’d been so nervous that he’d done the exact opposite. What a fucking idiot. 

Cassian had known how it felt to be loved by his brothers, friends, chosen family, and even lovers. But, he hadn’t been ready to experience how it felt to be loved by Nesta Archeron. Hers was love in its purest form, raw, unfiltered, so intense it sometimes hurt. Nesta didn’t sugarcoat her words, didn’t make things easy for those she cared about. Not for her sisters, and certainly not for him. Nesta’s love made his head spin and his soul come alive. It was a kick in the groin and a breath of fresh air all at once. Cassian reveled in it. 

His Nesta, brave and headstrong, proud and prickly, caring and tender. She carried herself with the grace of a queen, brought high lords to their knees, and yet she didn’t want a throne, nor a crown. She wanted her friends. And she wanted him. Nesta had seen all of him, the good, the bad, and the terrible, yet she had chosen him. Cassian had cried that day at the temple when he’d watched her walk down the aisle in a white dress, her eyes fixed on him, her steps never faltering. He had cried because she was so breathtakingly stunning inside and out, and she was his. He had cried because being chosen by Nesta made him believe in himself, that he was more than what met the eye, that he was brave, strong, and flawed. Just like the woman who had stood in front of him, holding his hands, choosing him in front of their friends and family. 

--

Cassian looked at the woman sleeping peacefully next to him, her hair a tangled mess, a hand reaching towards his side of the bed, where he sat with his back against the headboard. Cassian brushed a knuckle on Nesta’s cheek then went back to gaze lovingly at the small bundle in his arms. A tiny hand peeked out from under the pale yellow blanket and gripped Cassian’s pinky finger with surprising strength for a baby born mere hours ago. 

It was terrifying, having another piece of his heart out in the world. At least Nesta could defend herself - but this baby was so small, her paper-thin wings so delicate… “My Elira. My heart,” Cassian whispered, fresh tears willing in his eyes. “I’ll be your fiercest protector. Nothing will harm you.”

Next to him, Nesta stirred. A crease appeared between her brows as she snuggled closer to him, and Cassian managed to extract his finger from his daughter’s hold to smooth it with his thumb. 

He’ll have to take care of both his girls now. “I love you,” he whispered to Nesta, knowing that even in her sleep, she would feel his love through the bond that linked their souls.

———

*quotes from acomaf,acowar and acosf.

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Didn’t let anyone get a whiff of what he felt for his white-haired friend, who had no clue—not one— that he had loved her his entire life. And in those last moments, when his power had been ripped from him by that spell.… Kallias had flung out the remnants to warn her. To tell Viviane he loved her. And then he begged her to protect their people.

So she had. As Mor and my friends had protected Velaris, Viviane had veiled and guarded the small city under her watch, offering safe harbor to those who made it.

Never forgetting the High Lord and friend trapped Under the Mountain, never ceasing her hunt for finding a way to free him. Especially while Amarantha unleashed her horrors upon his court to break them, punish them. Yet Viviane held them together. And through that reign of terror—during all those years—she realized what Kallias was to her, what she felt for him in return.

The day he’d returned home, he’d winnowed right to her. She’d kissed him before he could speak a word. He’d then knelt down and asked her to be his wife. They went an hour later to a temple and swore their vows. And that night — during the you - know, Viviane grinned at Mor — The mating bond at last snapped into place.

The story occupied our time while we waited, since Mor wanted details. Lots of them. Ones that pushed the boundaries of propriet and left Thesan choking on his elderberry wine. But Kallias smiled at his wife and mate, warm and bright enough that despite his icy coloring, he should have been the High Lord of Day. - (Acowar)

One - Shot

Viviane woke up with kisses on her neck. Opening one eye, she saw Kallias' handsome face hovering over her shoulder.

The kisses didn't stop.

"I could get used to this." Her voice heavy with sleep echoed through the couple's bedroom.

"That's the intention." With his head resting on his wife's neck, Kallias' voice was muffled. Viviane smiled.

"Ayanna?" The High Lord's hand gently squeezed her waist.

"In a sleep as heavy as her mom was." Viviane turned to her husband, lying like this, Kallias was on top of her, his hands holding her face in a shell now. Love and adoration danced in his gaze.

"I love you. And that, my love, has no restrictions or expiration date, and never will. My best friend, my wife, the mom of my daughter, my High Lady, my mate. Mine. I would find you, you know. In any other world, anywhere. Mountains, forests or seas or skies, suns, distant worlds wouldn't be enough to stop me from being with you, to find you. There are no words or gestures that come close to what I feel for you. Maybe you have no idea what you do to me, and that's okay, I will never get tired of saying how much I love you, because it will never be enough. I love you with every part of who I am and even more, Viviane. And every day, every morning that I wake up next to you, I cannot stop myself from loving you more. And even if I wanted to, I could never stay away from you."

The air had escaped Viviane's lungs and she just stared into Kallias' beautiful eyes. The weight of love and truth in those words was almost suffocating, so incredible was it to feel that and to be responded to in the same intensity.

Then Viviane simply kissed Kallias. A long kiss that spoke more than words or grand gestures. And even when they had to stop to catch their breath, a conversation passed between them and then was interrupted by another long, intense and passionate kiss.

"I love you, Kal. Always and forever." Viviane whispered.

Kallias smiled at his wife and mate, warm and bright enough that he should have been the High Lord of Day.

"I could really get used to this, you know." Panting and sweating and with a giant smile after the you - know, Viviane laid her head on her husband's chest.