Synopsis:Following ACOSF until Nesta’s confrontation with Amren. Rather than going to hike and soul search with Cassian in the wild, Nesta uses her powers to disappear.
Hey! So I am going to write this fic. I have never posted anything I have written before so please let me know what you think or if you have any advice. Also let me know if you want to be tagged.
Feyre sent a huff of a laugh back at Rhys. Why? Does somebody miss me?
Two somebodies actually, Rhys replied. Nyx wants to show you how he has improved his flying with Uncle Azriel today.
Feyre smiled at the image of her son jumping off couches to fly around the room played in her mind. She currently sat in her studio, working on a painting of Nyx flying with his father. She planned on saving it for his eighth birthday present in a couple months.
Feyre glanced out the window, where the streets were only illuminated by starlight on the moonless night. She hadn’t realized how late it had become.
I’ll be home soon, I just have to clean up.
Don’t keep me waiting too long, Rhys rumbled back. A shiver went down Feyre’s spine as she cut off the connection with her mate to concentrate on cleaning.
She walked around the room, turning off most of the lights before going to the back to wash her brushes and pallet. As she stood at the sink, she suddenly felt a cold breeze at the back of her neck.
Feyre froze. She raised her head to look at the paint-splattered mirror above the sinks. Through the smudged glass, she could see a dark cloaked figure standing behind her.
Slowly, Feyre turned. “Who are you?” She demanded. “It’s not wise to sneak up on a High Lady.”
The figure stood perfectly still. As they stared at each other the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Finally, the figure tilted their head to the side slightly. “Well? What do you want?”
An indignant huff came from beneath the cloak before reaching up to pull back the hood.
Feyre’s mind went blank as she took in her sister, whom she hadn’t seen or heard from in over 8 years.
“Hello Feyre.” That was all Nesta said.
Feyre stared at her older sister. Not a day had gone by since that terrible day in Amren’s apartment that Feyre hadn’t thought of Nesta. Not a day she hadn’t wondered, worried. They had searched for her. Had even reached out to the other courts when they became desperate for answers. But there had been no trace of her since Cassian had seen her consumed by silver flames.
Now standing before her, the first thing Feyre noticed was how healthy she looked. Nesta had slowly begun to look better after living in the House and training with Cassian for a few weeks. She had been gaining a little weight and some color back then.
But stepping into the light cast from lanterns on the back counter, Nesta seemed to glow with health. Her hair was braided in its classic crown, but her face was full and tanned from being in the sun. Her eyes still held the same stormy intensity they always had, but the haunted look she had had was now replaced with a silver gleam.
Although most of her body was covered in a dark cloak, Feyre could see she was wearing fighting leathers— not Illyarian leathers. And peaking out over her right shoulder was the pommel of a great sword. The Great Sword, the one she had accidentally Made. The sword that, along with the two other Made weapons, had been stolen from where they had been locked in the river house. The same night several priestesses disappeared from the Library as well.
That had been nearly a year after Nesta. They had all suspected Neata, as later it was found that the last time Emerie had been seen in Windhaven was that day. But they had never been sure. All that was left of the priestesses was a note to Clotho not to worry, that they had left by choice.
“Nyx is growing up fast.“
Nesta was still staring back at Feyre, but as she continued to blink at Nesta, Nesta nodded towards the painting on the easel. Her face was impassive as she said “He looks like he is a handful.”
Nesta’s words caused Feyre to snap her mouth shut, which had been hanging open. “What? Nesta… where…how…why…” Silence filled the room as Feyre trailed off. Nesta continued to stand with that preternatural Fae stillness, but she seemed to be considering Feyre now.
“I came here with a warning for you and your court”, Nesta finally said.
Again, Feyre felt her mouth fall open as she stammered “Excuse me?”
Nesta let out a bored sigh as she moved to the cart next to Feyre’s easel and picked up a paintbrush to examine.
“I am sure you have many questions, but I only came here because there are some things you as the High Lady of the Night Court should know. There is a movement growing on the continent threatening Prynthia. I don’t believe the ruling powers of Montesere and Vallahan are involved, especially with the peace treaties you have established with them, but there may be some within those territories that support it. The majority of this group has been operating in the Wild Lands of the Faerie Realms on the continent. What I do know is that those involved with this movement believe there is a way to steal the power of Prynthia’s courts. They say the ruling High Fae power’s here come from a physical source in this land, and if found, they can take it for themselves.” Nesta twirled the paintbrush in her hand as she turned to face Feyre again. “This group has been trying to subtly infiltrate Prynthia’s courts, and we believe they have gained a source within the the Illyarians.” Nesta said all this deadpanned, returning to staring at Feyre with a blank face as she finished speaking.
Feyre’s anger came hot and fast. “Are you kidding me Nesta? What are in the Cauldron are you talking about!”
Nesta simply raised an eyebrow at Feyre’s outburst. “Which part of what I said was unclear? You and your court need to look into dissent among the Illyarians.”
Feyre let out a disbelieving laugh, “It’s been 8 years, Nesta!”
“Yes.”
“Eight years since you disappeared without a trace and now you come back and the first thing you tell me is this? With no explanation as to where you have been? What you have been doing? Seriously? That’s all you have to say after you ran away, never contacted your family, but apparently returned to steal weapons?” Feyre gestured to the sword on Nesta’s back.
Nesta examined the paintbrush in her hand, but said cooly “Since I created the weapons, it wasn’t stealing.” She looked up to Feyre, eyes chips of ice. “The what and where I have been are a long story. I only came to warn you.”
Silence once again filled the dim room.
“Why should I believe you?” Feyre asked, defeated.
It was Nesta’s turn to ask “What?”
“Why should I believe you,” Feyre repeated, “when you have done nothing to show that I can trust you?”
Nesta’s infuriating nonchalantness finally slipped a little, and Feyre felt a flash of anger. However, her voice was calm as she responded. “For all our history Feyre, did I ever lie to you, or do anything to make you think I wished harm on you?”
Feyre opened her mouth to respond “no”, but stopped herself. Looking at the Nesta before her, she didn’t know who this person was.
After a moment she said, “I don’t know.”
It was quick, but Feyre saw something flash in Nesta’s stormy eyes before her face was once again a mask of cool indifference.
“Okay then.” Nesta turned to return the paintbrush she still held to its proper place. “As I am sure the rest of your court will also need convincing, I can show you proof if you can meet me on the Obsidian Isles in the East Sea of the Night Court in two days. Noon, on the Northernmost island.
Feyre was really tired of saying this, but “What?”
Nesta let out an annoyed sigh as she clasped her hands together in front of her and said plainly “Bring your mate and court and meet me in two days to prove to you all I told you was the truth. Is that acceptable to you?”
Feyre nodded.
“Good. See you in two days.” With that, Nesta turned on her heels and stalked to the door.
Yet Nesta paused with her hand on the doorknob. For the first time since being in the room, Nesta seemed to waiver. She didn’t move, staring straight at the door.
“How is he?” She finally asked. It was barely audible, barely more than a whisper as if she was afraid to say it too loud. But it was the one thing Feyre didn’t need to ask what she meant.
“He searched for you,” There was too much, and not enough to be said.
Nesta turned her head, hand still on the knob, not to look back at Feyre but to stare at the wall to her left.
“He will come with you to the island.” Feyre couldn’t tell if that was a question or order.
Either way, Feyre said “Yes.” Even though she didn’t know if he actually would. Feyre didn’t know how he would react to any of this.
Nesta stood still for a second, before nodding and pushing open the door. She didn’t say another word as she pulled up her hood, stepped out, and vanished into the night.
Feyre didn’t know how long she stood there, staring out the open door into the dark. It was only when she felt an invisible weight lift off her shoulders, that she realized that the entire time she had been talking to Nesta, she hadn’t been able to feel her bond with Rhys.
Synopsis:Following ACOSF until Nesta’s confrontation with Amren. Rather than going to hike and soul search with Cassian in the wild, Nesta uses her powers to disappear.
Hey! So I am going to write this fic. I have never posted anything I have written before so please let me know what you think or if you have any advice. Also let me know if you want to be tagged.
Prologue: Disappear
Nesta didn’t care. Couldn’t think around the roaring. “Have any of them told you, their respected high lady, that the baby in your womb will kill you?”
It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—- seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre’s painted-smeared face.
She had gone too far. She… Oh, gods.
Amren said, “I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.”
Nesta couldn’t bear it—the pain and fear and love on Feyre’s face as she caressed her stomach.
Amren growled at Nesta, “I hope you’re content now.”
Nesta didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say or do with herself. She simply turned on her heel and ran from the apartment.
Nesta ran into the streets, escaping down side alleys, not caring where she went, as long as it was away. Away from Feyre and her pain, the pain Nesta had just so cruelly added to. Away from Amran, the friend Nesta had once thought she was. Away from the rest of her sister’s new family.
Nesta had thought she was getting better. She had been trying, with Gwyn and Emerie. With Cassian. She had searched for the Dread Trove, to protect Elain. She had initially followed Rhysand’s order not to tell Feyre about the risk of the baby…
But standing in that apartment, Nesta had realized none of it mattered. Not while Feyre cried and Amran looked at her with such hatred and disgust. For all her efforts, Feyre and her Inner Circle would never like Nesta.
As she ran, Nesta couldn’t entirely blame them. She didn’t like who she was either. Didn’t like the things she said, or what she did, or how she felt. She didn’t like her powers either, not when they were a manifestation of all the worst things about her. They were all better off without her.
The realization slammed into Nesta. It was not the first time she had thought it. She had lived in her rundown apartment for exactly that reason, to put space between her and her sister’s family. But they had always dragged her back in with parties and dinners, insisting Nesta be there. That only ever resulted in her once again feeling out of place and giving them all more reasons to loathe her. Until finally they had forced her to the House Of Wind.
Nesta came to a halt in an ally that opened up to the Sidra and the setting sun. Her red hot anger from earlier was gone, replaced with that numb feeling that she had lived with for so long, the feeling she had been beginning to forget. How quickly it returned.
Feyre’s crumpled face flashed in her mind. Nesta knew they would be coming for her. Feyre deserved to know the truth about her baby, her body. Everyone had the right to the truth. But Rhysand, Amren, and the rest of them didn’t care about that. They only cared how Nesta made Feyre feel, so they would blame her. Including Cassian.
Cassian who she trusted, who she had let in despite knowing better. No one had ever tried as much as he had with her, but in the end, he would always choose Feyre and the Inner Circle. He had continued to talk to them about her and keep things from her because of them.
No matter what he was to her, he was also better off without her. She was a burden he had been handling, but today proved it was all pointless. Nothing and nobody could fix her.
Her powers curled in her gut as she stared at the sparkling water. She wanted to disappear.
So do it A voice whispered.
Silver flames sparked at the tips of Nesta’s fingers.
Disappear
Nesta hugged her hands to her chest, letting the cold flames sparkle across her body. Amren has been right. Nesta hadn’t had any interest in her powers. But now they were all she had left. They were the only thing that had made her worth anything to the others. But maybe now they were her answer. Nesta closed her eyes and let her leash slip, let the magic decide. Disappear.
“NESTA!” a distant voice shouted.
A voice Nesta knew in her soul.
As the world twisted in flicking silver, Nesta turned and glanced at the sky. Hazel eyes locked onto hers, and Nesta felt his anger and alarm. His horror. All about her. But not anymore. Nesta felt a single tear escape down her cheek as she allowed her magic to consume her, and let go.
I need ideas, what are names for Nessian’s daughter???
I can’t stop picturing her as looking like Nesta except growing up taller, having darker skin, Cassian’s smile, and rivaling Cassian as the greatest Illyarian warrior while staring her enemies down with her chin raised and her own I will slay my enemies look
Ships aside can we all get an f in the chat for all of Azriel’s past and future partners. Like we all know how Rhysand was described and I didn’t think it could have gotten worse, but then we got to see Cassian in Silver Flames. And it’s well known that Azriel has the biggest wingspan, but how in the world could he be bigger than Cassian!? Like it can’t be possible. I am praying for whoever ends up with Azriel in the future books, she’s gonna need all the help she can get.
Every piece of art had been picked by Feyre herself, or painted by her, many of them portraits and depictions of them—her friends, her … new family. There were none of Nesta, naturally.
Chapter 59
Her friends regarded her curiously, and Nesta swallowed. “Let me make a wish for all of us,” she explained, gathering the three charms. A small gift—for the friends who had become like sisters. A chosen family. Like the one Feyre had found for herself.
