Let Nesta Or Azriel Call Out Cassian For Laughing At Nesta When She Hurt Herself While Going Down The

Let Nesta or Azriel call out Cassian for laughing at Nesta when she hurt herself while going down the stairs. What a giant f*cker he is.

Just a little re-write of one of the scenes at the House of Wind taking some of the original text. In the original, Cassian storms away. I've changed this to Nesta leaving and eavesdropping on Azriel calling out Cassian.

Silence fell again. Azriel nodded at her.

‘What happened to you?’

She knew what he meant: the black eye that was finally fading. Her hands and chin had healed, along with the bruising on her body, but the black eye had turned greenish. By tomorrow morning, it’d be gone entirely.

‘Nothing,’ she said without looking at Cassian.

‘She fell down the stairs,’ Cassian said, not looking at her, either.

Azriel’s silence was pointed before he asked, ‘Did someone … push you?’

‘Asshole,’ Cassian growled.

Nesta jabbed her fork into her fillet of beef. ‘No. Cassian watched but didn’t think to help.’

‘It wasn’t far. One flight.’

‘And if it had been further?' Nesta probed. 'Would you have intervened at all?’

The taut mood simmered like a pot ready to spill over. The quiet shadow singer regarded both of them warily.

‘Maybe, one day, Nes, you’ll learn that staggering down the steps in search of alcohol in the middle of the night isn’t a good idea.’

Asshole. She’d needed it. The voices in her head had grown too loud, consuming all of her thoughts. She’d only wanted to stop them for a while, dimmed them enough to cope again.

Cassian went on, ‘I told her earlier today: if she’d bother to train, she’d at least have bragging rights for the bruises.’

Azriel took a calm sip of his water. ‘Why aren’t you training, Nesta?’

‘I don’t want to.’

There was nothing enticing in it for her. The desire to be a warrior did not exist in her. Spending time with Cassian in this way brought her no joy. The very thought of laying herself bare as a novice in front of swathes of sneering Illyrian males who already found her presence to be unsettling filled Nesta with dread.

‘Why not?’

Cassian muttered, ‘Don’t waste your breath, Az.’

She glared at him. ‘I’m not training in that miserable village.’

Cassian glared right back. ‘You’ve been given an order. You know the consequences. If you don’t get off that fucking rock by the end of this week, what happens next is out of my hands.’

Her next retort gathered on her tongue. A lashing against his beloved high lord’s character. Nesta wanted to rage at him. Drop her in the damn mortal lands for all she cared, at least she’d be rid of them all.

‘Go and tattle to your precious high lord about wicked Nesta not training.’

‘Don’t you fucking talk about Rhys in that tone,’ Cassian snarled.

‘I hate him,’ she seethed.

‘Good. He hates you, too,’ Cassian shot back. ‘Everyone fucking hates you. Is that what you want? Because congratulations, it’s happened.’

Azriel let out a long, long breath.

Cassian’s words pelted her, one after another. Hit her somewhere low and soft, and hit hard. Nesta scrambled to build her walls up, to muster a defence. Anything. Her face crumpled. Her food was abandoned as she scurried from the room, unwanted tears spilling down her face.

Nesta hated to cry. Hated anybody ever seeing it. Least of all these two preening Illyrians.

Her path diverted course. If they searched for her, they’d aim first for her room then the library then the stairs. She veered towards the small living room that she was never fond of being in. The door was ajar but no sounds seeped from the dining room. Good. At least they weren’t laughing that they’d succeeded in making her cry.

The shadow singer’s voice breached the heavy silence. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘I didn’t mean to say it.’

‘But you did, Cass. You did fucking say it. There’s a reason she’s not training, more than obstinance. Stop seeing everything she says as a battle.’

Nesta heard Cassian’s shuddering breath. ‘But she acts like it is a battle.’

‘Because she’s hurting.’ A long pause followed Azriel’s words. ‘You didn’t even help her when she fell down the stairs? Seriously?’

‘I wanted her to learn a lesson.’

There was no shame or regret in his voice. Nesta bit down on her knuckle so that the pain would give her another outlet to focus on than the burning feel of tears.

‘And what lesson was that? That you won’t be there for her when she needs someone? That you’d rather she suffered? Fucking hell, Cass, what are you doing? Why are you punishing her more?’ Cassian’s attempts at speaking were quelled by Azriel’s swift words. ‘You will regret this.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nesta fell down the stairs and you laughed. You could have helped her. You could have checked on her injuries. You’ve just made her cry. I shouldn’t have to tell you that the female you believe to be your mate deserves basic decency, not further punishing.’  

Okay, but I love happy endings, so I died.

Epilogue Just a lil fluffy epilogue... if you don't like babies then this is not the epilogue for you!

Devlon adored his garden. The cat tanked through overgrown grass, bolting after a butterfly while Nesta followed Elain’s instruction on removing the weeds. Azriel let out a little chuckle from the kitchen at Nesta’s disgruntled expression when a particularly thick bramble refused to budge. She was not a gardening person, but wanted to help somehow whenever she wasn’t working with George. Hacking away at something seemed to be the safest place for Nesta.

Remarkably, Cassian offered up his services to help restore the house. It didn’t matter to Azriel if it was simply to repent because Cassian was handy and he did need his help but would have been too proud to ask otherwise. Azriel kept Nesta shielded, keeping her pregnancy under wraps for the time being though Cassian already knew, but it didn’t seem worth it to risk any lingering effects of the mating bond if it could be helped. As it happened, Cassian was fine. He never got too close to Nesta or tried to touch her in anyway – and only ever visited when he knew Azriel was home. They had unspoken rules regarding Nesta. Azriel might not have been her mate, but now that she was carrying his child, he was even more protective of her. As for Cassian, there were no signs of madness or him becoming a tortured male without the bond. Helion believed the close proximity to Nesta prevented those effects. He still had access to her in a way that suited all of them.  

Azriel was grateful for the help, but more thankful still to have his brother back. Their conversation returned almost as easy as it used to be as they repaired the house together. They’d repainted most of the rooms after sanding and patching up cracks so they had begun living in a few of the rooms. Each day, they worked from dawn ‘til dusk with Rhys coming occasionally to offer unhelpful advice and get in the way.

It became a habit now that whenever Rhys showed up, Nesta would have to distract him so he didn’t make a mess of painting or hammer a nail in the wrong place. None would tell the high lord that he needed a babysitter, but Nesta reluctantly took on the role, expertly guiding him elsewhere or distracting his attention.  

Azriel had overheard them talking once, that hesitant bridge forming between them as they enjoyed an early summer day in the garden with a cool drink while he and Cassian continued fixing the loose tiles of the roof.

‘Thank you for being on our side. It can’t have been easy for you to go against Cassian and my sister.’

Rhys gave her a gentle smile. ‘It was the right thing to do.’

‘The right thing isn’t always the easy one. Will you let Amren return?’

‘Maybe once she’s had enough torture by sunburn and sand. Not for a long time though.’

‘Good.’

‘I’m in need of second.’

‘Not for me,’ she said, screwing up her nose.

‘Well, can I at least have you on standby to chase my enemies with your glorious, silver flames?’

The corner of her mouth tipped up. ‘I’ll consider it.’  

The house had taken shape through hours of care. The nursery – which had been kept under wraps so Mor spread a rumour it was some sort of sordid palace of pleasure – was painted a sunny yellow, their kitchen was well used as they explored new recipes together, and they’d changed one of the downstairs rooms into a cross between a small library and a study for Nesta’s collection of books which would only increase to fill the shelves. Most of it had been built by Cassian but they rewarded him with food.

Despite the awful beginning, he was proving to be a steadfast companion again, lending an ear when Azriel worried about being a father or happily rearranging the furniture when Nesta decided she didn’t like the layout that she had chosen for the third time.

On a quiet day, when most of the house was finished, Azriel and Nesta eloped.

Neither of them wanted the fuss or the attention, so they winnowed to the Summer Court and had a priestess marry them on the beach without pomp or fanfare. Even in her simple, white gown, Nesta was a dream. Of course, they’d had to stay a little longer to scour the beach for more shells to add to the nursery. She was barefooted with only a hint of a bump beneath her gown and Azriel’s breath caught in his lungs to look at her – his wife – as she tiptoed along the sand.

Although the pregnancy had been a massive surprise, which his mother had sobbed at, Azriel found himself obsessed. He couldn’t go into the city without buying something for the baby, whether it was more clothes or toys that they wouldn’t be able to play with for months, he always had to buy something. His child would be so spoilt. Azriel doubted he would ever be able to refuse anything either.

The obsession wasn’t just with the baby either. When Nesta’s stomach began to round, he was more attracted to her changing body than ever before. Azriel was more than happy to rub moisturiser all over her every morning and evening while Nesta lay on the bed, content to be pampered. The knowledge that Nesta was carrying his child made him insatiable so the massages quickly turned into sex where he plastered her body with kisses and reverent touches. She complained that her hips were too wide, her breasts were too big, and the stretchmarks that appeared on her thighs and stomach were horrible. Azriel saw none of that. He saw his wife who he loved more than anything in the world, growing his child. He couldn’t have been any more attracted to her if he tried. If it was up to him, they wouldn’t leave the bedroom for ten months.

***

‘I’m so pregnant,’ Nesta whined by the door. Her feet were so swollen that she hadn’t been able to lace up her shoes for weeks – and now she could no longer even bend down to reach her shoes.

‘Have you only just noticed?’ Azriel tenderly stroked a hand against her stomach. ‘You glow more every day. You are carrying our child. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.’

‘I have two more months and he’s been kicking me in the rib since month five. It’s not beautiful. It’s rude.’

‘She is just very active and can’t wait to meet her mother because she knows hers is the best in the world.’

Using Azriel for balance, Nesta raised a leg then the other so he could slip on her shoes for her. They had decided not to find out what they were having. Nesta was certain he was a boy. Azriel and Rovena were both insistent she was a girl. Cassian wouldn’t give an answer either way, the coward.

They walked as far as she could manage through Velaris as a brisk autumn wind swept through, then they winnowed the last part of the journey to the River House. Nesta had only begun showing near the end of her fourth month and her visits to the inner circle were so infrequent that none knew she was carrying except for Cassian – who had miraculously managed to keep the secret. Azriel let the shield around her slip away though Nesta grimaced at the thought of males sniffing her baby in her womb. That was one aspect of being fae that still disturbed her.

Their unannounced visit was met with casual surprise – then they noticed Nesta’s massive bump and it quickly turned to celebration though she couldn’t drink with them and no position was particularly comfortable anymore.

The group had hesitantly turned to Cassian, expecting him to be warped by trauma at the sight of his ex-mate carrying another male’s child, but Cassian let out a laugh. ‘Finally! It’s been so hard to keep this secret.’

‘You knew?’

Cassian scoffed. ‘I knew before Az. You see, Mor, I can keep a secret.’

Mor’s mouth dropped open. ‘That’s the first secret you have kept in five hundred years.’

The remainder of the pregnancy went well. Nesta did not know what she had done to deserve Azriel. He was so gentle and caring with her, massaging her swollen feet and hands, running baths then helping her in and out of the water, not minding when her hormones bubbled up and she cried hysterically at the dead sparrow that Devlon had dragged in. He was so attentive to her every need. Him – and the shadows. If Azriel had to depart then at least one shadow would remind behind, trailing Nesta throughout the house when she had stopped working in the city. And if it wasn’t the shadows, then the cat would curl up as close as he could to her bump on the couch leaving fuzzy, grey hair on every single surface.

The labour was fine because she had Azriel supporting her thought it. It was not commonplace for mortal males to be anywhere near their wife when she delivered a child, so Nesta has assumed Azriel would wait outside. He’d been utterly horrified at the idea of leaving her with just a healer. Throughout he was calm and comforting, holding a cold press to her forehead and being exactly what she needed.

When he arrived, Nesta couldn’t help but gloat that she had been correct. They had chosen a mortal name for their little boy although he’d been born with his father’s wings and a thick crop of black hair a few days after Feyre’s birthday. The Illyrian genes proved stronger than hers. His big brown eyes and dainty wings were the most beautiful things she had ever set eyes on. It brought Nesta so much joy to see Azriel cradling Joseph to his chest. She’d sit and watch with Devlon purring on her lap, marking all the similarities between her tiny son and her husband. Sometimes the pair of them would marvel over Joseph’s delicate fingernails in disbelief that they had created something so perfect.

Rovena stayed with them for the first week, helping them figure out how to manage a baby. Her help was invaluable in those initial sleep-deprived days. For Nesta, the struggle was managing a baby with wings because she was scared that she might somehow damage them. If Rovena wasn’t helping with Joseph, she was cleaning or doing their laundry. She’d even cooked enough meals to last them a few days after she had returned to Illyria.

Once Rovena had left, they allowed the others to visit and Joseph was spoilt with gifts and love from all of the inner circle. He was so adored by all, but especially by his father’s shadows. Often, they swirled around whoever was holding the baby protectively, or if he was sleeping in a basket, a few would peer in and watch. Elain had queried whether they didn’t scare Nesta to be so close to him, but the shadows had only ever been curious little beings to her. Maybe one day, Joseph would inherit his father’s ability too.  

Azriel was incredible. It made Nesta love him more. Though nervous initially with fatherhood, he was taking it all in his stride – so much so that sometimes Nesta barely got a look in. At his first cry in the night, Azriel, who slept even lighter now, would hop from the bed and rush to him. Before Nesta could even blink and get out of bed, Azriel would bring Joseph to her for his feed then gaze at them both with adoration. He insisted on changing him so she could rest, and the moment he came home from working, he also insisted upon cooking dinner for them so Nesta could rest then too. Or he’d run her a bath so she could relax. Or if Joseph needed feeding whilst they were eating, Azriel would feed Nesta while she fed their son. She was turning into a fat house cat with the way that he spoilt her.

‘I loved you before. And then I loved you more when you were pregnant. Now? I don’t have words.’

Nesta shifted Joseph higher so he could latch onto her breast to feed. The dawn seeped in through the curtain and instead of trying to sleep a little longer, Azriel had chosen to lay beside them, stroking his son’s dark head.

‘I’d have fifty babies with you,’ he continued.

Nesta’s eyes widened in horror. ‘I’m not being pregnant fifty times.’

Azriel rolled onto his back, his wings taking up most of the space, and he made a grunt. ‘I wish.’

Even when she was full term and she’d felt sad about her body, Azriel had only ever looked at her with absolute desire – and ensured she knew it. They were still having sex at ten months pregnant though they had to be more creative and gentler with her massive bump. He’d barely been able to take his hands from her stomach, so pleased and proud he was that he had caused it. She was heavier now than before she was pregnant, but there was no pressure from Azriel in the slightest – especially not when he brought her something drizzled with chocolate and pumped with cream each time that he left the house.

They were lucky to have a very happy baby boy who was rarely fussy and only ever woke for a feed once in the night so they could still make time for each other. As he grew, Joseph’s favourite thing was for Nesta to blow raspberries on his tummy. He’d squeal and kick his legs or flap his wings. Or, for his father to take him on a very gentle flight around the garden which Nesta watched with her fingers covering her face.

Sometimes, Joseph would frown if Feyre held him as if he knew it wasn’t his mother but couldn’t work out why she looked so much like his mother. Thankfully, he was happy to go to anybody and the inner circle all wanted frequent cuddles with him. Rhys had taken up knitting and showed up at least once a week with a lumpy hat or pair of socks that he’d made with Feyre promising to try and distract him more. They tossed the items to Devlon who had a basket full of items that he tossed and clawed at.

Joseph had helped to heal the rift between them all. Cassian was a frequent visitor at the house still. He was the fun uncle who ran around the house and up the stairs with Joseph squealing and laughing as they jumped around like elephants. Joseph loved him. His face lit up whenever Cassian came by – and it gave Nesta and Azriel some respite to have a moment’s peace. Mor came only when accompanied by one of the others, as if she felt too ashamed to be in their presence after the chaos she’d caused. Nesta wouldn’t ever be her friend, but they could be civil to one another.

In order to be a better father and role model, Azriel had taken a step back from some of his duties. No longer did he spend hours in the dungeons of the Hewn City and emerge covered in blood for his high lord. He was better for it. His rage had been altered to a passion to be a good father for his son – although he already was. Nesta had never wanted this life. Had never wanted to be fae. She had only seen it as wars and magic, far beyond her comfort zone. Now, she had found her own little piece of happiness. Happiness was a home with people she loved – even if they both had wings and she was outnumbered by boys. There was nothing more special to Nesta than walking down Velaris’ busy, cobbled streets with her husband and son. They were able to walk in the sun without being shamed for loving each other despite their beginning. They were happy and everything was beautiful.

@rarephloxes @misteryhen @wannawriteyouabook @theleafpile @loysydark @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens

Hey how many swords do u have

Sword of a lot

Other cow is jealous

(via)

I saw a TikTok of someone making fun of Luciens SA from Ianthe and I’m disgusted.

I started to write a post about this the other day and I ultimately didn't because like, how many times can it possibly be said?

Calanmai is the equivalent to getting rip roaring drunk. You consent to that. You might even consent to sex in those conditions with a certain person. What she did was remove his ability to consent to sex with her by removing the other options he'd expected so he'd HAVE to pick her. Tack on the fact that he has been aggressively telling her he's not interested all through ACOMAF, to the point that Feyre is telling us in her head that she thinks Lucien would kill her if he could, and it is blatantly obvious SA.

But of course, you can actually pick and choose if someone was assaulted if you like them or not. And since 1/3rd of this fandom is dedicated to turning Lucien into a villain in order to sail their ship, he either "deserved what happened" or he "wanted it" or it wasn't assault at all, because they suddenly don't understand that consent is a moving target instead of something fixed.

and that ignores that in ACOWAR she's back at it, has him magically restrained to a tree and has her hands on his fucking penis while he is TELLING HER NO and Feyre BREAKS HER HANDS for it. Part of the reason Feyre and Lucien are sharing a tent is to KEEP HER OUT.

I don't care if people don't like characters but the endless discourse over why their anti-faves deserve what they get just like, are so telling as to what kind of real life people they are. I also saw that tiktok and I blocked, just like I do when I'm in the elain/lucien tags. Scream at a wall you fucking losers. Could not imagine being that brain dead.