Nesta Struggles To Place The Surprise In Feyres Voice, Uncertain Of Why Her Words Had Surprised Her So.

nesta struggles to place the surprise in feyre’s voice, uncertain of why her words had surprised her so. as much as she wants to know, she isn’t ready to ask. but then feyre speaks again – words that confirm that they did in fact share similarities beyond the obvious ones gifted to them by lineage. the eldest sister had often felt alone too. alone despite the smothering attention of their mother, alone despite her closeness with the sister she could never compare to, alone despite the males she took home each night while she pushed the rest of the world away. she too had endured the loneliness but had refused to let another soul note how she loathed it.

the movement of feyre’s hair catches her eye and she risks glancing at her again. it's as if she’s on a ship, floating across oceans, tendrils of her locks dancing on a sea breeze to liberty beside her. “— did you?” she asks softly, slotting a new piece of the puzzle into place and giving a new dimension to the sister who had saved her life... the sister who she barely knows. not in the ways that matter. and she’s not sure that she ever had dreams like that. her own aspirations had only ever been material; luxurious dresses to covet, a rich man to buy her treasures. finding them for herself had never once entered her mind.

stormy eyes stray back to the glittering landscape at the mention of rhys’ beliefs about their childhoods and their fates. “maybe so,” she murmurs, not entirely certain she agrees, but unsure if it comes from a desire to be contrary where the high lord is concerned. it's tough for her to swallow that the notion that the harsh reality they endured could be thought of as necessary, especially when she could still remember her youngest sister's face on the morning she went hunting for the first time as vividly as she did. it's as if it that version of her younger self stands before her now, eyes full of determination and fear. nesta can't help but remember the way she'd GLOWERED at her while elain wished her well.

“it was out of love.”

the words lift nesta from dangerous territory. it was so like them. nesta focusing on hatred, letting it gnaw at her bones. feyre choosing love, asking it to guide her like starlight. she remains silent, emotion thick in her throat, and bites the inside of her cheek as she searches for something to say. anything to avoid the generosity offered to her younger self. "if we could go back in time," she begins, pulse pounding in her ears. "i'd like to think i'd be a better sister to you. learned to hunt with you, helped you wash the blood out of your clothes, taught you how to read... and i should have made you feel safe enough to ask for help with those things."

" freedom? " i finally looked over at my sister, my brow furrowed with something bordering on astonishment. was it truly possible that my sister, who radiated with such severe beauty and intensity, had envied me for the disdain and abandonment i had been fostered with? no one had ever seemed to care to notice me -- a neglected child left alone in the corner playing with shadows, so easily forgotten. " i taught myself how to endure being alone, but i never enjoyed it. " i would have traded my so called freedom for nesta's gilded cage and our mother's rigorous expectations back then, if it meant receiving even a sliver of her acknowledgment. and yet, i had also always yearned to escape -- something in my gut pulling me towards the horizon, to explore the deep unknown. ( a gentle tug leading me towards my real home. ) my happiest moments as a child were spent in alone our father's office, studying the maps as if i had any formal education in cartography, yearning to feel the sea breeze whipping through my hair. my voice softened, " i used to think i'd take over his business you know. sail away and travel across the continent. "

that all changed as soon as we lost everything. i rarely allowed myself to dream after that, to consider what might have been if our father hadn't been so weak and so careless. fantasies could only trap you in a maze of delusion, the means of our survival dependent upon my righteous will and cynical practicality. painting was the only form of escapism i truly afforded myself, visions of the night sky keeping me warm at night and holding me together before i even knew i needed it. " rhys thinks everything had to happen exactly as it did for us to be here now. " it had taken some time for me to agree with that, to accept that our suffering was inevitable -- and yet it had all been worth it, to quiet the storm in our minds, restless waves with nothing to break against. for once in my life, i finally felt whole. i had everything i could ever want and resentment had never truly served me.

a soft smile threatened to crack through as i studied my sister's features, silver eyes that were so eerily reminiscent of my own -- intense enough that even i could hardly stand to wither beneath her stare. " it was out of love. " it always had been, even when i never would've admitted it before -- all of the choices i had made were motivated by the unconditional love i had carried for my sisters, for our family. nothing had ever broken that, not even our mother's games. " you were an easy person to blame, but you didn't deserve it either. we were children -- even if our youth was robbed from us. "

Nesta Struggles To Place The Surprise In Feyres Voice, Uncertain Of Why Her Words Had Surprised Her So.

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