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thefinalcinderella · 4 months

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Tsurune Book 3 Chapter 6 - Genuine (Part 1)

Finally...finally the last chapter...

Glossary here

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

The kumotatewaku is a traditional Japanese pattern that resembles rising clouds. It is often used in the costumes of ancient nobles

The expression used here is 白羽の矢を立てる (literally: sticking a white feathered arrow), which is an idiom that means "selecting someone out of many people"

A chindonya is a kind of old-timey marching band that dressed in elaborate costumes to advertise for shops

Block style or kaisho style calligraphy is the regular script and the most commonly used. Every stroke is carefully executed

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In early June, the prefectural preliminaries for the National High School Kyudo Tournament, also known as the prefectural tournament, were held.

Kyudo supply stores and photo studios were set up around the venue, and the storefronts were lined with commemorative goods for the tournament. The wind was strong on this day, and the young archers were moving against it. The competition event was close-distance shooting, using thirty-six-centimeter kasumi targets with a shooting distance of twenty-eight meters.

For the boys’ individual competition on the first day, Fujiwara Shuu of Kirisaki High School once again won by landing all his arrows. Second place was Kabashima, also from Kirisaki, and third place went to Asahina from Haneina High School, showing the strength of the powerhouse schools. For the girls’ competition, Seo from Kazemai High School placed fifth.

On the second day, it was finally time for the team competition. The format was five-person teams and four shots in zasha. In the preliminaries, the time limit was eight minutes. Forty-two schools were participating in the boys’ competition, and the top eight teams with the highest number of hits in the two rounds would advance to the final tournament.

Tommy-sensei raised his voice. “Now it’s time for the team competition. Kazemai will show its true strength. Everyone, I wish you good luck!”

“Yes!”

After completing the registration process, Kaito, Kanbayashi, Seiya, Himuro, and Minato put their numbers on their right hips. Ryouhei and Nanao were reserve members.

Himuro was expressionless like he always was, but Kanbayashi gently stroked his number.

“Oh no, I might be really happy after all…”

Keyaki nudged Kanbayshi. “Don’t grin like that and get it together. I don’t wanna hear you whine.”

“Of course.”

Next to them, Ryouhei was tying his yellow-green headband.

“Today, my sister, Sae-chan, and Toujou-san are coming to support us. I’m psyched!”

“That’s great, Ryouhei,” Minato and Seiya said.

The Nanao Fan Club had updated its cheering goods and prepared fans with a frog wearing a crown. They also handed them out to support groups and parents, and when the bright green of them swayed, it looked like a chorus of frogs.

As they were about to pass through the noisy venue, people approached Minato and the others. A young prince, twins, a boy with a square face and thick eyebrows, a boy with pleasant features and a crew cut, and an antique doll.

They were Kirisaki’s Fujiwara Shuu, Sugawara Senichi and Manji, Kabashima Umetarou, Yushima Kaoru, and Kuon Takumi. The twins burst into laughter in front of so many of their rivals.

Shuu brought his face close to Minato’s right ear. Since their master Saionji’s left ear was bad, Shuu only showed this habit to Saionji and Shuu.

“Thanks for the birthday present the other day. I’ll treasure it.”

Shuu put his thumb on his yugake. A white underglove with a purple pattern could be seen beneath it.

“I’m glad I was able to give it to you on May 11th this year. I thought it would be perfect for you.”

“The kumotatewaku pattern is rare for undergloves. (1) ——See you in the finals.”

“Yeah, the finals.”

The two of them bumped yugake and returned to their teammates.

Shuu’s gaze drifted to Kuon. Kuon was in the starting lineup for the day, but he was standing separate from everyone else. Everyone could tell that he was isolated, and was not a proudly solitary existence like Shuu. A dissonant sound was wafting from Kirisaki High School.

Kuon, who didn’t care about other people’s concerns, had moved onward. In fact, he was frustrated because he didn’t do well in yesterday’s individual competition.

Manji rested his elbow on Senichi’s shoulder.

“Will we okay with Kuon? I’m more suited to be the starter.”

“It’s frustrating, but his hitting rate is usually high. The coach said there was no problem either.”

“Alright, everyone, let’s go!”

At President Kabashima’s order, Shuu and the others headed to the venue.

Meanwhile, Tommy-sensei and Masa-san were in the shade of a tree, away from the crowd.

Masa-san straightened his collar.

“Why did you remove Ryouhei and Nanao from the starting lineup? There was nothing to criticize about their results.”

“If we make it to the finals, each person would have to shoot twenty shots in total. Even if it’s difficult to shoot twenty shots and hit, how about twelve shots? The aim is to preserve stamina.”

“There’s one more thing I’d like to confirm before we get into the tournament. On the day of the entrance ceremony, I heard you say to Minato and the others, ‘I have given you white-feathered arrows.’ (2) I’m sure that you knew that saying originated from the custom of playing an arrow with white feathers in front of the house of a girl chosen as a sacrifice. Why did you purposely use it?”

“It’s to prepare them. Once a ship leaves the port, you can’t turn back even if you shout to get off.”

“Are you telling them to prepare to share the same fate? Even though those who are wounded might fail again?”

“Hohoho, I didn’t mean it in such a sad way. Youth is the greatest weapon, since they can just start over again and again. I just felt that they could make it to the new continent. The first fleet, the Kazemai High School’s boy’s kyudo team, started with six members. Takigawa-san, you’re the first-born son. When I was able to convince you, I was convinced that we had completed our mission.”

“That’s a bold opinion, typical of Tommy-sensei.”

“It’s true of all sports, but one cannot win by the strength of the athlete alone. Especially in kyudo, the character of the master comes out strongly. Everyone resembles your shooting, Takigawa-san.”

“…My shooting was said to be very similar to my grandfather’s.”

“It’s the spirit of archer that is passed on.”

“…Yes.”

Masa-san looked at the treetops swaying in the wind and laughed.

Following the opening ceremony, the yawatashi ceremony was held.

The boys’ division was called for the preliminaries, and they headed to the waiting area with Masa-san leading them. As always, the most stressful time was sitting in the chairs and waiting. When the team before them finished, the “stand up” signal was given, and they rose from their chairs and advanced to the honza. They bowed at the signal to “begin,” walked to their shooting positions and knelt down. They chose two arrows from the four they had.

First up was the oomae, Kaito. It was lovely how he never trembled when facing the target. The lovelier he became, the more stubborn he got, and he would end up saying things that were different from his true feelings. He would say, “I have no interest in you,” but would grab the other person’s arm and not let them go in the same breath. He lived and breathed kyudo. That was Kaito’s everyday. After his right hand flicked, shouts of “good” came from the stands.

The second, Kanbayashi, raised his bow. The midsummer sun encouraged growth. He absorbed more and more of what was told to him and expanded towards the blue sky. He had seniors who he admired and pursued the shooting he admired. His longing had a zeal that surpassed his anxiety. His arrow pierced the target with a grand hanare.

The third, Seiya, was quiet. Wearing a straw hat and an insect cage, he entered the forest, but stopped when he saw a field of flowers. The neat and trim flowers swayed. When he lay down and looked up at the rising clouds, he felt like he was about to float away. He heard a familiar voice and stopped returning to the sky—he hit.

It was the fourth, Himuro’s, turn. He took the bowstring with a bodhisattva’s hand and looked at the target with a bodhisattva’s eyes. His ability to make an uncurving douzukuri was probably something he was born with. It was his natural posture with no effort put into it. The frogs in the stands jumped when he hit.

The fifth was the ochi, Minato. The white-feathered arrow was proof that he had been allowed to come into contact with the gods. He didn’t resist, go against it, and accepted it as it was. His limbs, stretching vertically and horizontally, were incredibly supple. His body of sixteen, which couldn’t be wished once more after it had passed, embraced the earth, wide and endless.

The matooto sounded.

Hanazawa, Shiragiku, and Seo, sitting in the stands, held their breath.

“The boys are amazing.”

“I feel like they have become more and more refined.”

“I heard that Narumiya and Takehaya have also been going to Saionji-sensei. Their drive is different.”

For the second shot, everyone except for Kanbayashi hit.

For the third shot, Kaito, Seiya, and Minato hit.

Keyaki’s chest swelled at the success of his fellow first-years. “Kazemai, do your best!” Shuu’s younger sister Sae and their butler Toujou cheered in a small voice.

For the fourth shot, Kaito hit with all four of his arrows and left the shooting range to applause. After him, Kanbayashi, Seiya, Himuro, and Minato all hit the target. Their result was four, two, four, three, and four for seventeen hits out of twenty. It was a very good start.

Kirisaki was the sixth team to enter the shooting range. A wall of people filled the surrounding area to catch a glimpse of the champions’ shooting.

The oomae, Kabashima, released his arrow.

Senichi, Kuon, and Yushima all hit. The ochi was Shuu.

Wash your heart and turn it into incense; revere your body and turn it into flowers. Those were Kukai’s words, meaning that it was the duty of a virtuous person to serve others without any thought. Those who had a pure heart were fragrant. Shuu knew firsthand that this wasn’t a metaphor. The feeling of euphoria he felt when he brought his face close to the owner of that scent. He heard whispers of wanting to be intoxicated, of not minding sinking to the bottom of the lake if he could have it all to himself, but those were the words of a demon. He must not fall for the sweet words of someone who looked like him.

Shuu’s evil-expelling arrow dashed forward.

The results for the two rounds were announced.

For the boys’ division, Kazemai had thirty-four hits out of forty, Kirisaki had thirty-six, and Haneina had thirty-five.

The Kazemai girls had only twenty-eight hits, so unfortunately they didn’t pass the preliminaries.

Minato and his teammates got the ticket to go to the finals.

After lunch, the finals began. In the afternoon, the wind became stronger and their hakamas fluttered violently.

“It’s time to change the lineup. Yamanouchi-kun will be second, and Kisaragi-kun will be fourth. I’m counting on you,” Tommy-sensei said.

Ryouhei and Nanao received their numbers.

Minato adjusted the position of Ryouhei’s number.

“It looks like the five of us will be standing on that stage again. A year ago, you invited me to the information session for the kyudo club. That was the first time we five met face to face.”

“I wasn’t the only one who invited you. Everyone wanted to do kyudo with Minato.”

“Now, I can draw a bow. I’ve never been happier.”

Kaito brusquely held out his right hand, and the five boys looked at each other. Passionate feelings could be conveyed without words or skin contact.

Ryouhei, Nanao, Kaito, Seiya, and Minato bumped their yugakes together.

Kazemai’s opponent was Uyoshiro High School.

They were wearing bright red headbands. They lived in an area associated with military commanders who were famous during the Sengoku period, and when they went to a competition, they wore a certain armament. It was glasses. It might seem comical from the outside, but they did it very seriously.

The group stood in the first shajo. The oomae readied his bow and fixed his eyes on the target.

The bow maker, the yugake maker, and the arrow maker were the three gods of kyudo. The archer was the one who became intimate with these materialized gods. If there was a slight doubt or confusion, the string would make a muddy sound with those negative emotions. The twill brocade woven by the trinity of gods resembled battle attire. The flowers, birds, wind, and moon on the robe were the prayers of the samurai, and the butterflies (moths) represented the parents of the silkworm, production.

The flowers scattered. The flower battle was a warrior’s honor.

The oomae’s matooto resounded.

Kazemai’s oomae, Kaito, was undaunted. The wind beat mercilessly at his face, and his douzukuri felt like it was about to collapse under the wind, but he withstood it. Patience was his natural disposition. He might seem short-tempered, but he had the conviction to never give up. To not run away from the way of the bow. He was determined to cling to it for the rest of his life.

The nimato, Ryouhei, was listening to the news of the wind. Seeing the faces of his parents and sister in the stands, he felt strongly that he wasn’t alone in this fight. It seemed that people became stupid when they were angry and when they were happy. Their brain stopped working properly. The state in which one’s mind was clear and free from all distractions was called munen musou, and he learned from the path of the blade that you couldn’t fulfill your duties if you weren’t passionate.

The naka, Seiya, had found the answer to Minato’s question some time ago.

Why did humans shed their fur? It was to continue walking.

The ancestors of humans who left the forest for the grasslands learned to walk or run long distances in search of food. Body hair had a heat insulating effect and protected the skin from UV rays, but in order to prevent the body temperature from rising too high, they chose to abandon their fur and sweat instead. Humans had great endurance. The way one breathed was important in walking the long way of the bow.

The ochimae, Nanao, was thinking. Thinking was a linguistic activity.

There were two types of word formation. One was to give a name to something that had been hidden and make its existence manifest, and the other involved the intention of first creating a word and having the concept follow. When you learned a language, you not only acquired wisdom, culture, and thinking, but also the spell of words.

Letters and patterns were magical techniques that had their own power. If you looked down on them as just a means of communication, everything would be embodied and pour down upon them. There were no magic words; words were magic. A story was a kind of magic and truth. If you write it as tsurune, it would be called tsurune. A tsurune was the beautiful sound of a bowstring.

Nanao’s sharp hanare brought forth the next wind.

The ochi, Minato, held his bow.

Just how heavy was this shot?

Just how light was this shot?

“I” was the one who gave it meaning. The god of the bow didn’t smile at those who couldn’t love themselves or others. Because humans were incarnations of the gods.

Minato forgot that he was a human and turned into the matooto.

Uyoshiro had three, three, four, two, and four for a total of sixteen hits.

Kazemai had three, four, three, four, four for a total of eighteen hits.

Minato and his team made it through the first round without incident.

The second round began.

The stands were filled with people wearing blue and yellow-green headbands. The two waves struggled, almost swallowing each other up, almost to the point of spilling over onto the yamichi.

Kazemai’s opponent was Konoe High School.

Their blue arrow feathers and headbands were their trademarks.

Only those with kyudo experience would understand the exhilarating feeling of seeing the actions of five people overlap. There were rules even for movements such as taking a step forward, sitting, and nocking an arrow into a bow, and because there were rules, it was possible to match each other. Ikiai was the embodiment of the red droplets that circulated around the body.

They shot arrows every day. The faces were almost the same. The repeated daily routines were a series of miracles. They take up the bow, hoping to grow even just a millimeter better than they were yesterday. For most people, landing a hundred hits with a hundred arrows was just a dream, and it was precisely because they couldn’t do what they wanted to do that they got absorbed in it. The sound of the arrow hitting the target was pleasant, and they wished it would happen again, but the god of hitting was a contrarian. The moment you wished it, the chance escaped. Approaching something without wanting to approach it was nothing but a dilemma for humans, who had developed enlarged brains.

Don’t think, just feel, as a martial artist once said. How long would it take to reach that state? Even if it was achieved, would it be possible to maintain it? If you kept thinking like this, it seemed that you still had a long way to go.

Kazemai’s archers faced themselves in the form of the targets.

The aggressive Kaito, the lively Ryouhei, the intelligent Seiya, the sparkling Nanao, and the pure Minato.

They highlighted and polished their inherent colors.

Their inexperience became a weapon. Even though they were told that there was darkness an inch ahead, they wouldn’t be able to understand unless they looked into it, and they wouldn’t notice it unless they fell into it. Pain was something you only knew when you suffered it, and hate was something you feared only when you possessed it. The cry of the inner soul could only be learned through experience, and words were powerless there. No matter how many words you wrote, they would never be understood by those who never experienced it. Only an archer knew the heart of an archer.

A world of just two people, the bow and the human.

The bow caught the innocent body falling.

The ecstasy a bow gave you was different from that of humans. Skin with goosebumps and surging droplets. It was a ritual to bind the soul that was about to drift away to the body. There was no sound without a container. You couldn’t make a sound with an empty shell.

Minato and the others raised their bows, spread them wide, and released their arrows. Ashibumi, douzukuri, yugamae, uchiokoshi, hikiwake, kai, hanare. They followed these eight stages and headed towards the heights.

The results of the second round were as follows.

Konoe had three, four, four, three, four, for a total of eighteen hits.

Kazemai had four, three, four, four, four, for a total of nineteen hits.

Kazemai won by a difference of one hit.

Since there was some time until the finals, Minato went out to the front.

He wasn’t feeling bad. If anything, he was focusing on calming himself so he didn’t go too fast. A dull mind and a weak body. At first glance, it might seem like a state far removed from martial arts, but eliminating the “self” was the secret to being able to freely manipulate the body. As long as “I” resided in the body, the god of the bow would not descend upon you.

To become empty.

Even if it could be understood as a concept, it was extremely difficult to embody it.

An elderly man called out to Minato.

“It’s almost time for the finals. Just like last year, the match between Kirisaki and Kazemai is a must-see.”

“Thank you very much. But the match between Kirisaki and Haneina is about to begin.”

“No, no, the match is already decided before it even began, right? Did you see the head of those students from Haneina? A chicken’s cockscomb and a horse’s tail. The training clothes they wore in their Yotube streams looked like something from an old marching band. (3) You’re wearing a clean white kyudogi and your hair is neat. It’s praiseworthy. That’s what a Japanese boy should look like.”

“…I do have short hair, and I like white kyudogi. But, if someone is serious about kyudo, I will acknowledge them as an archer no matter what they wear.”

“What’s with that way of talking? Seems like I thought too highly of you.”

The man left. Minato went outside to focus his mind, but he ended up inviting needless interference.

His yellow-green headband was fluttering. It was something a master had prepared for his disciples.

Minato took a deep breath once more.

The card of Kirisaki versus Haneina in the second round got people excited.

Asahina raised the corner of his mouth.

“Nice. It looks great.”

Eddie tied an orange headband tightly.

“I am trembling at the prospect of a worthy opponent, that I am.”

Matsuda, who had poor eyesight, placed his hand on the shoulder of the poet Kanuma. Igarashi started walking while holding flowers. People naturally gave way to them. The existence of Haneina’s kyudo club was already dramatic in itself. The five of them walked leisurely down the flowery path.

The two schools began to enter the shajo, and the spectators held their breath as they watched.

In the first shajo, Eddie raised his bow. His blond ponytail swayed and sparkled in the sunlight. A stop, an upward turn, and a sweeping stroke. His shooting was like the block style of calligraphy. (4) A work of art that changed seven ways depending on the tools, brushstrokes, style, and word selection. His stance was to never prepare practice sheets, but always treat it as though it was the real thing. He quickly drew back his brush, and the arrow flew towards the target.

The second, Matsuda, hit.

The third, Kanuma, hit.

The fourth, Igarashi, hit.

The fifth, Asahina, begun to raise his bow. His red hair stood out against the green grass. His self-confidence and warm-hearted personality brought out the bright sun. When he drew his bow, his limbs stretched to infinity. The matooto resounded.

Kirisaki also matched their pace.

The oomae, Kabashima, hit.

The nimato, Senichi, hit.

The naka, Kuon, hit.

The ochimae, Yushima, hit.

When the ochi Shuu hit, the scoring board was lined with circle marks.

No one missed their second shot as well. The sound of the matooto and the cheers of the crowd made their bodies numb, and the elation made them desire more and more matooto. They became greedier and greedier.

Kuon was confident that he would never lose to the red-headed guy. If they went on to win, he would be placed in the same picture frame as the Young Prince, Fujiwara Shuu. What a beautiful picture it would be!

He melted into the world of images.

Now, let’s sneak in.

This was Tsujimine High School.

A boy with the hood of his white hoodie pulled deeply over his head walked over. A boy with streaked hair was standing a little further away. He stole the key from the staff room and hid it in his pocket.

Nikaidou and Fuwa were in the music room. They stood in front of the piano and gently opened the lid.

Along with Fuwa’s piano melody, Nikaidou played the drums using his hands and knees. He was very into music games and could even reach an uncanny level of fast drumming in games like Kotaiko no Tatsujin.

One day, after club activities, Nikaidou was tapping a rhythm on his knees on a whim when Fuwa correctly guessed the name of the song.

“Konahanasakuya-hime.”

“…Correct.”

Since then, the sneak-in sessions, not street piano, had continued.

Konohanasakuya-hime no Mikoto, the origin of the song’s title, was the name of the most beautiful goddess in the history of Japanese mythology. Her father was Ooyamatsumi no Mikoto, and her husband was Ninigi no Mikoto, grandson of Amaterasu Oomikami. Her husband accused her of infidelity, and in order to prove her innocence, she set fire to the delivery room and gave birth to three children in the flames.

When the two of them were babies, they had a scarlet seal stamped onto their faces at a festival called Hatsuyama to pray for their healthy growth. It felt creepy thinking that they might have passed by each other somewhere.

Fuwa began to play a song. As he proceeded at a walking pace, Nikaidou stood next to him.

A fearless smile—the start of a duet.

My fingertips hit the keyboard. The melody, chords, and bass line. Nikaidou sped up the main melody while adding improvisations. There was no way Fuwa wouldn’t take up this challenge.

“Nikaidou, can you keep to my speed?”

“Hah, there’s no way I’m following you.”

“Good grief.”

Fuwa ignored Nikaidou and decided to go fast. He was crafty with techniques such as giving someone glimpses and keeping them in suspense. Fuwa always kept his distance from others. Though he had purposely drawn a line telling them not to come over, those who crossed that line were, so to speak, prey. There was no need to hold back. He would shake them, shake them, shake them until they begged for forgiveness.

Nikaidou attended piano lessons when he was a child, but quit after learning “Turkish March” and had been studying on his own ever since. On the other hand, Fuwa’s mother was a piano teacher. Knowing the difference in their abilities, Nikaidou devised a plan. He tried to find rhythms that players might not be comfortable with, such as lowering the key by a semitone or changing chords.

Fuwa made full use of his techniques. Nikaidou clicked his tongue, then reached over Fuwa’s arm and hit a high key. It was more of a fierce battle than a fun session. Sound and breathing filled the room. The music room wasn’t air conditioned in order to prevent unauthorized use. If the sound leaked out, the shame would be unbearable. They played the whole song while sweating.

“It’s not fun at all playing with you,” Fuwa muttered.

“Same here.”

“Get out of here.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve always been an arrogant king, Koushirou.”

Nikaidou took off his white hoodie. His body was hot and he was breathing heavily. He reached into his bag to get something to wipe off his sweat and grabbed a towel and his phone.

The results of the prefectural tournament where Minato and the others were in were displayed on the screen.

“…Oh man. I think I’m gonna laugh.”

“You laughing by yourself isn’t a good thing. Alright, I’ll ask. What happened?”

“Kirisaki lost in the second round of the final tournament.”

“What!?”

Fuwa stared into Nikaidou’s large eyes.

“That’s a big upset. Who was their opponent?”

“It’s the school of the Yotubers Asahina and Eddie. Shuu-kun really is a lovely man. As expected, my special won’t let me down. I wonder if Minato-chan will entertain me as well.”

Nikaidou loosened the collar of his white shirt.

After the wind that had been blowing since the morning calmed down, an incredibly bright blue sky spread out above Shuu’s head.

Kirisaki had nineteen hits.

Haneina had twenty hits.

The powerhouse Kirisaki High School was defeated in the second round of the prefectural tournament.

Under the sunlight, the Kirisaki members calmly began cleaning up. “We all did well,” the president Kabashima exclaimed, and Yushima smiled and said, “It’s been a fulfilling three years. I’m grateful to everyone,” but Senichi and Manji couldn’t hide the heaviness of their steps. They endured the overwhelming mixture of feelings of inadequacy and jealousy toward those who had earned the smile of the goddess of victory.

There was only one person who missed in this team, and that was Kuon. Despite the weather having returned to calm, he looked as though he had inhaled a cloud of dust.

One could almost hear the crunching sound of it.

“Fujiwara-senpai, I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“But, still! Even if it’s to yell at me, please just say something to me.”

“I have nothing to say.”

Shuu left without saying any more.

Devastated, Kuon turned to face the person who appeared in the corner of his vision.

Minato, who was going to talk to Shuu, saw what happened.

“Kuon-kun, it’s usual for Shuu to not express his thoughts after a match. Don’t worry about it,” he told him, then immediately followed Shuu.

Kuon stared at Minato’s back and bit his lip.

Was he pitying me?

Who on earth were you talking to when you said “don’t worry about it?”

I can’t believe someone of the lower class is looking down on me!

Minato had no clue about Kuon’s delusions. He was running after someone he must not lose sight of.

He shouted the name of his brother disciple.

“Shuu!”

Shuu turned around and smiled. It was all he could to not drop his bow.

“I’m sorry, Minato. I wasn’t able to fulfill our promise to meet in the finals. It seems that I don’t have any luck with team matches.”

“That’s not true, Shuu. You’re my first bow friend—a genuine archer. We met at that kyudojo when we were little.”

“Minato.”

“Someday, we will definitely team up together.”

“…Yeah, I’m looking forward to that.”

What a cruel person.

You were the one who lit this fire under me.

God of the bow, please save me.

We are babies who don’t know anything. Although no ships nor people have arrived there, the sun is a red, blazing star that will someday turn to dust. We never witnessed the beginning and end of the story, and we believe in an empty dream that cannot be verified. Dreams are seen when one is asleep. People are still sleeping. A dream from which we can never wake. In the darkness, only my old friend knows what I did. Only you can burn me to ashes.

Shuu touched Minato’s forehead with his yugake-covered hand. His cold fingers were trembling.

He couldn’t let go of that unforgettable body warmth.

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#tsurune translation #tsurune

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lmjupdates · 5 months

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laurenjauregui: Mercury was retrograding hard af yesterday so here’s a second attempt to share with you my latest offering✨🤍 swipe to listen and for a taste of the inspiration behind the artwork. My heart aches for the mothers who have to bury their children, but I find it so beautiful the flowers that are able to bloom even in the darkest spaces. I wrote this song with a prayer in my heart to speak to the nonsense of this all. “The Day The World Will Blow Up” is out now on the incredible platform @even.biz who is creating a space where artists can not only get paid directly for their art in reciprocity and in a way that allows us to take care of ourselves, pay our bills, create more and more content/art and get our teams properly paid. They also have a beautiful space for fans to interact and there’s other goodies available like exclusive content pieces, & a Q &A we’ll be doing in a couple weeks you can sign up for where I’ll be going more in depth and answer any questions yall have about the song/inspiration & the platform. Thank you to my amazing collaborators @mattiusmusic & @moneyjezus and to @zasha.ink Zasha Mallory for the stunning artwork. Like any amazing piece, the more you look at it the more is revealed about how much intention was put into it. The song is $3 on @even.biz the link is wherever you can find it✨ a portion of proceeds will be going to @mecaforpeace & FAH (Fill A Heart) Go FundMe supplying funds to Sudanese families in Egypt destabilized by the violence. I hope you take a second to listen and resonate with the message❤️‍🔥 for all my feelers who don’t know where to put it, this is for you. ✨🕊✨

#lauren jauregui #instagram #postedbymarina

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queenraikichi94 · 6 months

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"Then, let's leave the topic until you want to talk about it, my Butterfly. Take the time you need for that"

"Thanks, Raubahn"

"Now, let's go back to sleep before Zasha decides to wake up"

"Alright...I love you, Raubahn" "I love you too, Kaewaly"

#raubahn aldynn #kaewaly lesrekta #ffxiv oc #ffxiv wol #veena viera #my oc

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clown-college-honor-roll · 6 months

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hullo! idk how to start an intro post so aaaa here is a list??

formerly known as felixascends

☆ I'm Felix (Hugo/Zasha/Dove/Rabbit) 19

☆ he/him + they/them + creature/creature's

☆ transmasc demiman + demisexual achilean

☆ T💉 (11-29-'22)

☆ AuDHD + other junk (please use tone tags so I don't get confused)

☆ bat kin(??) 💖🦇💖

☆ fandoms: TF2, Our Good Shadows, AT, ect.

☆ personal tag / my original posts: felix txt.

☆ idk what a "spam reblog/like" is but I don't care about it, it makes me happy that you like my stuff <3

DNI:

TERFs + SWERFs, homophobes, Fujoshis (MLM & WLW fetishizers), transphobes: transmisogynists + trans meds + transandrophobia deniers, racists, Zionists, anti-muslim people, antisemites, Ai ""artists"", ableists( "schizo posting" while not schizophrenic IS ableist, so is saying "Delulu"), MAPs, "thinspo" blogs = eating disorder enabling, "pro life" = pro forced birth, Conservative = guncuck, proshippers, people who are mean to kids

Soft DNI (just a preference, no hard feelings):

-people under the age of 14 (sorry babies (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠))

- kink + fetish blogs

- people who keep posting porn in #trans

- redditers

#blog intro #intro post #felix txt.#dni list #dni

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firecooking · 8 months

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Sports day Or something idk

The tugs are about to find out a convoluted way to destroy that megaphone by the end of the day, poor Zasha, but you know like Father like Daughter

#the fire burns #burnings #art #illistration #this is tugs #z stacks #tugs zip #Zasha #tugs humanized

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degrassiclassiclover · 11 days

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Which Degrassi ships from each generation are your favorites? :)

From classic Degrassi, it’s Michelle and BLT. I am SO UPSET that BLT cheated on Michelle because that was so ooc for him and they had such a cute relationship.

From the earlier DTNG, it’s probably Semma. Is that boring? I don’t care. I love them and I’m pretty mad that Emma married Spinner. I want my boy Spinner to be happy, but cmon. That came out of nowhere. It also might be Palex because I just want Alex to be happy. If we’re being honest, Palex was toxic, but I’m a sucker for any wlw Degrassi couple.

From around the middle (6, 7 8 and 9), my favorite ship is Parcy. This ship is one of the few times that Peter is tolerable and he did a super great job helping Darcy deal with her trauma. I’m sad that Darcy moved to Kenya, because I also loved Darcy.

From the later seasons, I’m obsessed with Bhandallas. I love both characters individually, and seeing Alli finally be in a happy relationship with a guy who genuinely cares about her and loves her is so refreshing. Also, even before they’re dating, the way that Dallas looks at her is probably the sweetest thing I’ve ever witnessed. Not to mention that Alli is super adorable with Rocky.

From Next Class, it’s definitely Shiny. Not only because I love Shay and I love Tiny, but their whole dynamic is really adorable. They’re both adorably nerdy with each other, and they respect each other’s boundaries. They’re also a pretty non-toxic couple, and since Shay is my favorite DNC character, I definitely want that for her.

Honorable mentions:

Zasha (Zoë and Rasha)

Drianca (Drew and Bianca)

Gronah (Grace and Jonah)

Eclare (Eli and Clare)

Fimogen (Fiona and Imogen)

Jiberty (JT and Liberty)

Janny (Jay and Manny)

#degrassi #Ships #asks

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ying-yang-qiao · 8 months

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Mentioned: @d3caynluv Elliot & Zasha, @bluwavez Finn, @venusvity Chloe, @f1-chicane Venus, @overthebluemoon Jinri, @plasticflwrs Oliver, @fcble Mingeun.

On spirits of Shooting stars ending, I decided to do this. Sorry is short, I tried my best.

The video starts with a girl seating on something that could be very well a studio, with many posters on the wall from many groups and idols. She seems old enough to know to not get into fanwars, but there's a glint in her eyes that shows that she knows exactly what she's doing, and seems to be enjoying it.

“Shooting Stars is about to end, and as we know, mnet likes rigging their shows, so it's time to talk honestly about the show.” The girl stars talking to the camera, with a microphone partly hiding her face. “First things first, I'm gonna talk about my picks first, and why did I pick them, then of course I'll bash on the rest of the idols, but first let me tell you my picks, alright?”

The image quickly turns into black, with the logo of shooting stars in the middle and the words “my top seven, in no particular order” in green under the logo. A short video of Chloe on her performance of “teddy bear” appears for a few seconds before it fades to show once again the face of the girl.

Chloe is gonna be my first pick, shocker, I know, y'all were expecting my faves to be first, but she just needs to be there. Yes, I know she might have been too harsh with your faves, but if they can't handle it then why are they idols? That's part of the business, and she understood that well.

A second video was shown after the girl stopped talking, showing Elliot on the “She Devil” performance, but again, it faded back to the girl's face after a few seconds passed.

Elliot. I think him in the red suit should be reason enough, but if we need more reasons, we just need to see him on each episode, he gave his all for this, as he should. And, if you need more reasons, please go watch Deepdive's comebacks.

The third video shows Finn, also on his last performance for Shooting Stars, and just as the two other videos, it fades after a few seconds of being shown.

Finn. Finn knows about shows like this, this isn't his first rodeo, and as always, he's the best on it. He knows what to do to get on the top, and he's giving it all to be there. There was a reason he was first and became DeepDive's center, and there's a reason why he should be the first and center in this SuperM wannabe group.

Another video was shown, this time, it was Zasha, and just as the others, it was gone in a few seconds. But this time, after the video faded, the logos of DeepDive, Venus, and Pushing Daisies were shown in a small part of the video, on the lower left corner.

Zasha. Jinwha is the worst men to ever exist, but that asshole knew how to spot a talent, and Zasha is not the exception. Zasha was born to be on a stage, and I think she proved she deserves a spot on the group mnet is creating. Let's just hope they're not rigged, because they deserve to be in the group.

Finally getting out of her ults, a face never shown before in the channel appeared, with Venus performing Too Sassy!

Venus. This one was a surprise, if I have to be honest, I didn't expect her to be so good, I liked her vibe, and she proved to be better than I expected her to be. Not gonna lie, I'm gonna keep an eye on her after the show ends on her group... Chicane? I think? I'm not sure, but I'll keep tabs on her and the group.

Once again a video is shown, this time showing another new face, Jinri making the first appearance on the channel, and by the way the girl was about to speak, it might not be the last time she appears.

Jinri. Yes. There's no much more to say about her other than she knew what she had to do and she. did. it. She was iconic, she was mother, it was what we needed in between all that niceness... good girl thing going on.

Then, a familiar face is shown again, but instead of an ex Angelico idol, or an idol that still had to get out of the claws of Jinhwa, Poppy is on the video, performing in the last episode of Shooting Stars.

Poppy. We all know Gfriend, and it was sad to see them go, but Poppy still has a lot of potential that shouldn't go to waste. She would be a great leader, and if some... Less than good options... get in the group, they could learn what's a real idol thanks to her.

The logo of Shooting Stars is shown again as the first time, but this time, it can be read “Idols that did not make it” in red letters, and a voice in off.

Now, what everyone was waiting for, the ones I don't want on the group.

The video shows Oliver, but this video is from the practice for the first group challenge, where he was doing all kinds of cheerleader stunts in a room.

I would've voted for Oliver in the beginning, but now... he's not doing it for me. Chloe should've let him have his five minutes of fame with the cartwheels.

A new video was shown, this time it was Qiao, also practicing for the first group challenge, but she was shown with a microphone in hand.

If there's something SM entertainment knows how to do, that's to create big expectations. And once again, they delivered empty promises. Qiao was simply not... on the next level, and she showed us why she's only a pretty face as a backup dancer. Plus, her sunshine and rainbows attitude was a big no for me.

Lastly, Mingeun was shown on his last performance with the song “Strange world”

Mingeun was good, as expected of him, and I swear I would've love to say he's one of my picks, but he's sadly not, as there's only seven spots, and some were simply better. I hope he keeps being this good on his group, though!

There's no more videos shown, and the girl moves slightly from the microphone, to show her face a little better.

That's sadly all for now, of course there are others that I would like to see on the group, but sadly there are only seven spots, and there were other really good surprises, and horrible disappointments, so if y'all want a second part talking about them, leave comments and likes so I know you liked this. I have much more tea on this show, so I'll be glad to talk about it. But for now, this has been it, so I hope you enjoy it!

#q.videos #ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ I like to dance all night [Survival shows]#ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ I like to dance all night [Videos]

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hydesjackiespuddinpop · 3 months

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How would you grade each of these canon Degrassi ships on a scale of A - F?! (These are just about how much YOU like a certain ship, not assessing its objective quality or whatever!) Here we go...Drianca, Eclare, Clare/KC, Clare/Drew, Beckdam, Maya/Cam, Maya/Miles, Miles/Zig, Sellie, Semma, Spinner/Emma, Manny/Craig, Manny/Jay, Jiberty, Zasha, Morisol, and any other canon ship of your choice that I haven't listed!

Okay! This’ll be fun.

Drianca: B (only because they started out with cheating)

Eclare: B (because of the s13-14 stuff)

Klare: A- (cute first love)

Clew (don’t hate me eclare shippers): B

Beckdam: A+++

Camaya: A+

Matlingsworth: B

Zaya: C (it’s complicated)

Sellie: A++ (never getting over how disrespected they were by the writers and the show)

Semma (S1-2): A+

Semma (S3): C

Semma (S4 & S7): B+

Semma (S6) D-

Spemma: D (they have chemistry but that’s it)

Cranny: D (I’d say F if they weren’t so cute in S5)

Janny: A (I love me some unexpected pairings)

Jiberty: A (They used to be my otp of otps back when I was the fandom. I wanna go back.)

Zasha: A (cutie patooties. So happy they were endgame!)

Morisol: A-B (so pure and healthy)

#answered #thedegrassidiaries #drianca #eclare #klare #clew #beckdam #camaya #matlingsworth #zaya #sellie #semma #janny #jiberty #marimo #morisol #zasha #anti semma #anti cranny

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d3caynluv · 7 months

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FILM SUMMARY ... Two brothers meet a comprise.

CAST & CREW LIST:

ELLIOT SON .... JESS

HWANG YEOJUN .... JAY

NAM NAKYUNG .... THE GIRL

PRODUCED BY ... ANGELICO ENTERTAINMENT

DIRECTED BY ... ZASHA PETROVA

WRITTEN BY ... ZASHA PETROVA

DISTRIBUTED BY ... A24 FILMS

WARNINGS / NOTES: It is a horror piece, so there are horror themes. It's just creepy and off-putting, I don't think there's anything too crazy. Mentions of Murder. Attempted Murder. Guns. Mentions of past abuse. Mentions of death. If I missed anything, please let me know! This was supposed to be up on Halloween, but I was sick lol! A bit of a change of pace from the usual pieces but I hope y'all like it! Happy late Halloween!

She stuck out like a sore thumb.

“She's one of them city girls,” Jess told his brother, who was crouched beside him, brow furrowed with their daddy’s rifle held straight up between his knees. “You could always tell by their hair.”

“What you mean?” Jay questioned, both of them speaking in a whisper. The girl’s platinum blond hair stuck out against the forest's foliage, and her manicured nails felt the tree bark in front of her with awe-filled eyes like she’d never seen a tree before. Russ pointed to her from the brush they were hiding in.

“It's not real. That color don't exist naturally.” Jay had never thought about it like that. He craned his neck to look at the girl again, peeking from the brush to watch her again. She had been a pretty little thing. She was skinny, with a round face and big eyes that looked around at everything like a curious rabbit. She looked like a rabbit, Jay decided. He often compared people to animals, as animals were all he knew besides his brother and his daddy, who they had buried that spring.

Now, all Jay knew was his brother and animals.

“Her clothes are nice,” Jay said out loud instead of keeping his thoughts to himself. Jess craned his neck to look at the girl’s outfit, shrugging in disinterest. The brothers were dressed in their daddy’s old clothes that he wore when he was their age. The only item of clothing on them from this century was the bulky camo jackets they got for Christmas last year. It was their only present. Well, Jay’s only present. Jess got their father’s rifle because he turned twenty-five that year. That was the family tradition. Jay was supposed to receive the hunting knife when he turned twenty-five, another long-kept family tradition, but now, with their dad in the ground, Jay wasn’t sure if he would ever get that knife.

He wasn’t sure if he even wanted it.

Jay knew their father didn’t like him. He always reminded him that he was supposed to be a girl, and the fact he came out of his mama backward was what killed her. Jay carried the weight of his mother’s death on his shoulders from the time he was brought into the world. That was probably why they’re always slumped over.

“City girl outfit. She don’t belong in no forest.”

She was wearing a pale blue dress with little white flowers on it. Jay thought it had been pretty. He thought she was lovely. He couldn’t voice that thought, however. Jess didn’t like to talk in the forest too much. He said there was no talking when hunting. Jay hated silence. He’d rather be in a room that echoed everything he said back to him before sitting in silence.

Jay stared at the girl again, taking in her features this time. It had been a long time since he had seen a girl, especially one as pretty as her. Typically, girls like her didn’t just appear in the forest, especially clean and well-kept. The last time Jay saw a girl this pretty had been seven months ago, but she had been a mess by the time they had caught her. Bloodied, sweaty, and covered in dirt from running so much. Jay couldn’t stand it when they ran. It made everything ten times harder than it needed to be. He wondered if this one would run. Her legs were skinny and didn’t look like they could carry her far. The more he pictured her running, the more the thought of her being a rabbit solidified in his head. Jay gulps.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Jay bargained, looking up at Jess with his big brown eyes and a teasing smile to test the waters. Jess, who had just finished loading bullets into the rifle, looked at his brother unamused. Jay kept staring at his brother with an unweaving gaze until he cracked a small smile, shaking his dirty blond hair.

“Prettier than the last one.”

“The last one was a guy. Of course, she’s prettier,” Jay argued, looking over the brush to see the girl kneeling in the grass, plucking dandelions from the ground. “She’s like an angel.”

“No angel has platinum blond hair, dumbass.”

“You never seen no angel before,” Jay snapped, his head whipping back to look at his brother as he cocked the rifle back. Jay felt the fun begin to bleed out onto the forest floor, and a coldness filled him.

“You don’t know what I’ve seen.” Jay didn’t reply. It felt as if his words had turned into acid on his tongue, burning him as they tried to spill out, and it only made his mouth shut tighter. He felt sick. He always felt sick during this part. At first, the pain was bearable. He would ignore it and swallow it as his dad told him to do, but now, years later, he found the pain to be excruciating, as if someone was pricking at his tendons and pouring salt into his eyes. He couldn’t stand it.

He hated this part. The first shot had always been the worst.

Jay looked up at the blue sky, silently counting the big puffy clouds slowly rolling through the vast big blue. His brother’s fist landed on his arm, causing Jay to flinch before slowly bringing his gaze back down to lock with his brother’s hard one.

“You need to watch,” Jess instructed as he positioned the rifle, the butt of the gun against his shoulder. “It was the only way you’d learn.” Jay sighed at the same old excuse now ingrained in him.

He needed to learn so he could help provide. He had needed to learn to keep the soil prosperous.

Jay watched his brother look through the scope of the rifle, his finger on the trigger. Jay knew the pattern well now. Jess took a deep breath through his nose. It had been nothing new. There had been nothing new in this forest. There had been nothing new between the brothers.

He pulled the trigger. The shot had been silenced, but Jay still flinched, shutting his eyes tightly when he heard the girl shriek. A thud echoed through the woods, but only Jay and Jess were there to listen to it.

Jay had thought about that often. He, his brother, and the hunted were the only ones to hear what happened between them. No one went into this forest, only the ones called to it. Jay reminded himself of that often how the forest would call those whom they hunt to her. This was how it was all supposed to go. This was life.

Jess got up, slinging the gun over his shoulder. He towered over Jay, silently demanding him to follow. Jay could hear the girl sob and groan in pain, the sound of leaves rustling underneath her as he assumed she tried to drag herself away like they always did. Jay’s body felt hot and suddenly sticky, his guts feeling acidic.

Jay’s knees cracked as he stood, rolling his neck with a tired sigh as he dragged himself behind his brother. He stood in the brush for a moment, keeping his gaze on the leaf-covered ground, and studied the various shapes of the cracked leaves beneath him.

“Dammit,” Jay heard Jess grumble. Jay looked up from the ground and walked over to the girl and his brother. Jess had his foot on the center of her back, huffing through his nose as he looked down at the girl who sobbed and wailed against the first floor. It was a tragic sight, in Jay’s opinion. It made his face pinch and chest ache as he had just drank the cough syrup his dad would make him when he would get sick. Sickly sweet and thick as sap. It left his chest burning and stuck on his tongue for hours.

“I aimed for her neck.”

“You got her hip,” Jay pointed out the obvious, pointing to the wound on her hip that left a growing blood stain on her pretty blue dress that was rising with every thrash and kick of her legs. Jay tried not to look, but the exposed skin of her thighs was tempting, causing him to steal glances at the pale skin he’d never seen on a woman before. He had never seen a woman like her before, especially this exposed. It felt wrong to look at her for too long, as if he was tainting something he already helped destroy.

“No shit,” Jess snapped. Jay rolled his eyes at Jess’s tone, his gaze already adverted back to the girl’s face. Even when she cried, she was beautiful. He wanted to touch her. His fingers twitched at the thought of brushing her hair out of her eyes and over her shoulder. He wondered what the strands felt like. He would bet his left hand that her hair was soft and her skin smoother.

He could hear Jess rustle in his pocket for the hunting knife. Jay felt a chill run down his spine as he realized what he was doing. He quickly pulled his gaze away from the girl and stepped back, his heart racing. He knew what was about to happen. He had seen Jess do this a thousand times over to humans and animals alike, but this was no animal, and she was no human either. She was something different to Jay. The thought of Jess grabbing her by the crown of her head, pulling her up, and slitting her throat was too evil for Jay to bear. For once, it felt wrong.

Jay reached out abruptly, grabbing his brother’s arm as he shook his head.

“No,” Jay demands for the first time in his life. Jess is shocked but intrigued, his brows raised curiously at his brother’s refusal. “Not her. She’s different.”

“What’s so different about her?” Jess refuted. Jay wasn’t sure how to answer, but his gaze returned to the girl, Jess’s following to try and understand.

“Remember what dad told us? About our mamas? How he’d catch them so he could have us to keep feeding the forest?” Jay never liked the story of how his dad caught his mom. It was violent and grotesque, as was most of what their father did and said.

Truthfully, Jay never liked his father. He was like a sleeping bear in a cave, hiding and quiet but big and deadly when he wanted to be. He would beat the living daylights out of either of the boys just for holding the rifle wrong or looking at him for too long with a “funny” look on their face. Jay often thought about his mother and the pain she must’ve gone through when she was with their father. He thinks, in a way, he set his mama free from this life. He wondered if she would be proud of him.

Jess tensed at the mention of his mama but nodded. Jay nodded his head down at the girl.

“She’s perfect for that…Don’t you think? I think so. I know so,” Jay adamantly told his brother, nearly desperate at this point to keep this girl alive for no other reason than for himself. Jess looked near pursued, looking down at the girl once more before he dropped down abruptly to pull her hair out of the girl’s face to observe her features. Jess studied the girl intently before nodding his head in agreement. Jay heard the girl softly whimper the closer Jess got to her face, softly pleading for him not to hurt her, but her pleas in the slightest didn’t phase Jess.

He had heard it all a billion times over in every voice imaginable at this point.

“We’ll test her out,” Jess agreed. Jay couldn’t believe that his brother agreed so willingly. He wondered if it was his rigid approach or maybe he did see that the girl was special. Jay blinked his large round eyes at Jess as he stood up and backed away, finally relieving the girl of his weight off her back. Jess nodded down at her.

“Fix her up and get her back to the house. Make sure she don’t bleed out…Not yet, anyway.” Jess gave the girl one last glare before walking away, leaves crunching behind him. Jay watched his brother until he walked into the brush, letting it swallow him up and making him disappear into the forest. When Jess was finally gone, Jay looked down at the girl with a gulp. Her sobs had turned into soft whimpers, and her manicured fingers twitched against the soil as Jay looked her over.

His lips twitched into a smile, kneeling beside her with a soft chuckle as he leaned closer. His fingers brushed the girl’s hair out of her face with an awe-filled hum when he saw her face again. “An angel,” Jay whispered, his fingers brushed against her cheek. The girl flinched, a loud whimper leaving her lips even though his touch was gentle.

“I’m gonna take care of you, angel. Don’t be scared.” Jay didn’t know what made him say that to her, but he felt it was right.

Everything felt right.

#。 . * ⠀⠀ ( ROTTINGDEEPLY ) ⠀⠀ / ⠀⠀ CHAPTERS.#idol oc #kpop oc #kpop fanfic #fictional idol group #fictional idol community #fake kpop oc #oc girl group #kpop au #idol au #kpop addition #bts addition #fake kpop girl group #idolverse #fake kpop group #fictional kpop community

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

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Au Acosf - Epilogue

@a-court-of-valkyries @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @nesquik-arccheron @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lyzriel @dustjacketmusings @sugardoll22 @gwynethhberdara @embersofwildfire @witchsouth @faeriebambula @lady-winter-sunrise

I would like to say a huge thank you to anybody who has interacted with this fic. It has all meant so much to me. I’m so grateful to you for following this story and I hope that I’ve given Nesta and Cassian the story they deserved. More than that, thank you for trusting in my writing. It has given me so much confidence and courage to pursue my dream of being a writer.

Never did I think when I started this fic out of spite would it get to an enormous 360k words, yet it did. I had no plans for Eris, and certainly none for Tamlin, but I’m happy with the story and hope you are too. Thank you for believing in me.

‘You don’t seem nervous.’

‘Should I be?’

Eris leant against the wall, catching Nesta’s eyes through her reflection in the mirror. The very notion of Eris Vanserra being in her bedroom in Illyria should have had Cassian barrelling through the wall like a juggernaut, but since Koschei and Briallyn’s demises, life had been smoother. Nesta no longer felt like she was holding her breath, waiting for her inevitable demise. Cassian was calmer too, no longer paranoid with fear that something would happen to her or they’d be parted.

‘Females generally are on the day of their wedding.’

Nesta inspected her face in the mirror. She’d slept well curled up with Emerie and Zasha. There hadn’t been any panicked dreams or last-minute nerves. The knock on the door from her sisters had woken them. ‘I’ve never been more certain about anything.’

After almost three weeks locked in the cabin together during the mating frenzy, Nesta and Cassian had finally surfaced for air. Their family had dropped food to their door throughout. Feyre and Elain always left a note attached, Azriel knocked and departed without waiting, and Balthazar would hammer on the door and holler through the wood until Emerie dragged him away.

Then they hadn’t had a moment alone. Nearly everybody wanted to be part of their planning or quizzed them relentlessly on the most menial topics. Cassian had nearly wept when Mor asked him to choose between two shades of lavender that were almost identical for the napkins. They had contemplated just running off together and having a private ceremony, but it would break all of the hearts of their family. They had a reason to come together and plan for something that wasn’t a battle which all of them seemed to enjoy thoroughly. Nesta suspected they enjoyed irritating her and Cassian most of all with their exhaustive plans.

The worst had been Rhysand. As often as they could, Nesta and Cassian avoided him. He insisted he was paying for all of it which Nesta would have been glad for, but he gave them a choice on absolutely everything from the colour of the ink on the invitations right down to the style of chair the guests would be sat on. He had complicated ranking systems for everything and wanted detailed opinions on it all – all of which he insisted on recording in a ledger too. Rhys fretted about minute details that Nesta had not even considered to be of importance prior. She had nearly snapped at him once, asking if he was the one marrying Cassian when the high lord had pulled a face at her choice of cutlery. When he had made both of them try every single caterer in Velaris, and their stomachs were uncomfortably full for days, Feyre finally managed to reign him in. He blamed his exuberance on their lack of mating ceremony.

Sanctuary could only be found with Azriel. The male, though still slightly withdrawn and carrying guilt, at least saw Nesta and Cassian as more than two dolls to play marriage with. Talk of a mating ceremony never came, and instead they lapsed into a steady routine of playing board games or visiting Rovena again. Sometimes the two males would spar together while Nesta watched from the kitchen window in breathless awe.

Since Nesta could now cook for her mate, she also happily took on those duties too. Cassian taught her how to cook many more Illyrian dishes, ones that recipes failed to master. When it came to spices, he had replied mysteriously that one simply knew how much to add. For Nesta, she was finding that the spicier the food the better. The unexpected domestic bliss blossoming between them ought to have been dull, but they were a team. He would chop vegetables efficiently and she’d stir the pan, deciding what herbs to throw in or would knead bread on the side beside him whilst Zasha waited for anything to drop. Sometimes they’d even ignore the door when Rhys knocked, knowing he’d be there with more elaborate plans for ribbons and banners.

It was nice really, Nesta supposed. Everybody was happy for them. She understood now the significance of mating bonds in Prythian; many females would stop her in Windhaven to congratulate her with big, beaming smiles then offer her food too. She stopped wanting to take walks with Zasha through the busiest parts of Windhaven from fear of not fitting in the dress that Rovena had diligently sewn for her. They barely had to cook because people kept bringing them food and offering prayers and blessings.

Cassian and Nesta had pooled together fae traditions and mortal ones, trying to weave in as many as they could. The night before their dual ceremony, he had spent at the House of Wind whilst she had remained at their home in Illyria with Emerie. It had been similar to their first day together, both hooting with laughter at filthy sections of their books. Balthazar had made an appearance with food but they’d shooed him out at nightfall. The meshing together of traditions was also the reason why Eris was stood in her bedroom.

She had debated having anybody walk her down the aisle then the thought of walking it alone terrified Nesta enough that she accepted Eris’ offer. The male wore black to fit with the Night Court and kept making comments that it was burning his skin as he tugged at the collar.

At the light knock on the door, both turned then Feyre popped her head round. ‘Time to go.’

The five females had spent the morning feasting on pastries and fruit in between getting ready before Eris’ arrival. The rift with her sisters was healing. Nesta and Feyre were learning how to actually be sisters, trying to find some common ground. Sometimes Feyre would come to Illyria where they’d walk Zasha together, the dog providing light relief and a topic of conversation when it ran dry. A couple of times, Nesta had forced herself to take a painting class to spend time with her sister. She was utterly dreadful at it – and the one painting she did bring home had made Cassian stoop over with full-bellied laughter. Nesta had wanted to burn it, but it was now up on their wall in the kitchen and he snorted still every time he looked upon it.

It was easier to mend the relationship with Elain. They had known each other best, known each other’s secrets. They had made their apologies and smoothed the valley growing between them. Elain had been nearly as bad as Rhys when it came to the wedding though, gazing with moon-wide eyes or sighing with dreaminess when she made Nesta recount her proposal or mating acceptance. When Nesta had suggested she plan her own mating ceremony to Lucien, her sister had turned scarlet and changed the topic, thank the Mother.

Helion had allowed the use of his pegasi pair for the wedding though they didn’t fly today. Gwyn, Emerie and Elain were already seated in the white carriage in gorgeous lilac gowns that Mor had helped to design. The carriage itself was adorned with an excess of ribbons and flowers that made Nesta roll her eyes, but it was better than walking all the way from Windhaven.

‘You look so calm,’ Emerie remarked.

Nesta took the hand extended by Eris and stepped into the carriage with Feyre following behind, politely brushing past Eris rather than accepting help.

‘Am I supposed to be dishevelled?’

‘Perhaps a little anxious before a wedding,’ Elain clarified. ‘I would be with so many watching.’

The pegasi began their gentle trot at the driver’s command so the wheels rattled over the uneven path running from the cabin.

‘The guest list is so large because somebody’s mate could not stop themselves from inviting half of Prythian.’

‘He’s excited for his freedom. Cassian is officially your problem from now on.’

Nesta risked a glance to Eris in case a callous retort bubbled on his lips, but the male kept silent, smirking slightly as he gazed at the rough Illyrian scenery.

Pinpointing a location had been a logistical nightmare. Nesta had been unwilling to negotiate on a number of factors: one of those had been a wedding in Illyria and the other had been the attendance of Eris. Wisely, Cassian kept quiet, but Rhys had made his displeasure known especially when it came to Eris riding in a carriage with Feyre. Somebody had convinced him though – Feyre, Cassian, Lucien or all three, Nesta wasn’t sure.

She had also begged and begged Rovena to attend so the wedding was being held near the lake only a few minutes walk from her home. Azriel could then accompany her there and back whenever she wanted to leave.

Persuading Gwyn to go had been another mammoth task, but Emerie and her had pleaded with the priestess until she reluctantly agreed. So far, Gwyn had been passed from Lucien to Eris to Emerie who was fiercely protective of her. Remarkably, Gwyn was comfortable around both the Vanserra brothers, perhaps because they had only spoken to her with the same sort of gentleness as they spoke with their mother. Or perhaps it was their magnificent orange hair tying the three together.

When Windhaven became an obscure mound in the distance behind them, Nesta’s heart did begin to beat a little quicker. She wouldn’t give the others that knowledge though. She had nothing to worry about; she was marrying Cassian and that was what she wanted. Her mate, however, was worried about unwanted guests in Illyria. Nesta had seen the frown bracketing his mouth when he dipped his head close to Rhys and Azriel discussing security. At dinner, Lucien had quipped that they were worried that if anybody turned up unannounced that Nesta might summon the Mask again to deal with it and smite any in her path. The table went silent in horror. Cassian’s wings had snapped together, body rigid. But Nesta had laughed and laughed, glad that the male could joke about such a thing and not be afraid of her. The Vanserras might have had reputations as being crafty snakes and foxes, but Lucien and Eris had proved that their spines were made of steel and their hearts of fire.

‘How many high lords are at this thing?’ Emerie craned her neck as if that might bring the gathered crowd into focus.

‘This thing,’ Nesta snorted. ‘Pardon me for interrupting your busy schedule. Only three.’

‘Only three,’ Emerie mocked. ‘Were you aiming for the set?’

The teasing was welcomed; it ate away at the unexpected beginnings of nerves. Emerie gave a pointed glance to the bouquet of flowers in Nesta’s hand that she was gripping with white knuckles. It was a sign that Emerie knew she was growing nervous and was trying to calm her.

‘Three? Is Tamlin not coming?’

Feyre stiffened at Eris’ words. She kept her pale eyes on the landscape rolling by, but Nesta could tell her sister was listening in.

‘He’s unable to attend. Fionn and his family are coming though.’ Nesta had sent the invitation with a letter that explained that if he was uncomfortable in attending, she would hold no ill will towards him. Coming to her aid had been enough – allowing her to live in his home and echoing her lie to Beron had been enough even then. Forcing the male to sit in the court Feyre and Rhys ruled while she married a male who had once been his enemy was too much of a stretch with the amount of history between them all. A brief but polite response had arrived swiftly declining but thanking her.

A light Autumn wind grazed across their skin as Feyre and Elain exited the carriage first followed by Gwyn and Emerie.

‘Ready?’

Nesta breathed out through pursed lips. ‘Yes.’

***

Cassian had thought he’d loved Nesta before their bond had been accepted. Hell, he’d loved her before he’d even felt it snap into place. But after she had presented him with food, love had swelled inside of him. Nesta became the centre of his universe. There was no other for him ever. Cassian had one purpose in life and it was ensuring her happiness. If she was cold, he’d find extra blankets, weaving them by hand if it had to. If she said she wanted fruit only found in the Day Court, he’d fly all the way there to pick her a piece. The thought that, one day, Nesta would carry his child, made him almost start tearing up. Cauldron help him if that day ever came. The thought of a smaller, winged version of Nesta one day made his heart burst.

The night before their mating ceremony had been spent in Velaris with his brothers along with Mor and Amren sharing memories of life before the Archerons had cast spells on them. The three males had finished the night in Illyria, in Rhys’ own cabin, drinking and trading stories until the dawn had begun breaking into the sky. Mor joined them in the morning to ensure they didn’t look too rough, she said, whilst Amren remained in Velaris to keep a watch over the city.

Like a mother hen, Rhys had swept around ensuring the flowers were arranged to perfection and that all the chairs had identical spacing between them. If he could instruct the sky how to appear, Cassian had little doubt that Rhys would have done that too. He and Azriel just watched, mystified by the nit-picking, swooning, romance-adoring high lord inspecting the pebbles by the lake as if they would be of any importance.

‘You get once chance at a mating ceremony and Feyre denied him,’ Azriel tutted.

‘And I’m the one paying as consequence.’ At Azriel’s chuckle, he shot, ‘I’ll make sure he’s worse for yours.’

Once guests began to arrive, Cassian’s nerves started. He was plagued by the terror of Nesta not arriving, or a note being sent ahead to say she had changed her mind or there were too many people in attendance and she didn’t want that many there. Worse still were thoughts of trouble that could come from other Illyrians. None had moved against her since she wore the Mask – neither Illyrians or mortal queens – but Cassian would always fear for his mate’s safety. She was the most powerful female in Prythian, maybe even the world. There would always be a target on her back, to hurt her, to use her, to covet her. Even if Nesta didn't have a drop of power, it wouldn’t change a thing for Cassian though. He loved her quick mind and clever wit, her golden-heart and sense of morality. At the core of her, Nesta was good.

‘Carriage is coming,’ Azriel murmured.

Rhys’ face softened as he caught sight of his mate stepping from it, her golden-brown hair half-up and woven with white flowers, the other half tumbled down her back. Elain was dressed to match in a sweeping, lilac gown, with only her slightly darker hair marking a difference between them.

For many hours, Nesta had worked with Rovena discussing dresses. He knew that Mor had helped too when Nesta had torn up her sketches that resembled blobs with limbs. Azriel’s mother had made every gown and suit with some assistance from Marsela. None of the males had been allowed to see them or even know what colour they were until they day. They were utterly beautiful.

Gwyn and Emerie followed the youngest Archerons down the aisle, sticking close to each others’ sides with bouquets of white flowers in their hands. A shadow whooshed past Cassian to sweep around Gwyn before returning to its master. Her mouth quirked into a smile from the greeting.

Cassian brushed his clammy hands down his trousers legs, his pulse echoing in his ears, as he waited for the final two to leave the carriage.

Nesta was obscured by a veil, but even that took Cassian’s breath away. Delicate stars were stitched to the gossamer fibres as well as mother of pearl and diamond. It was pure Night Court and his heart soared at the sight of it. She slipped her arm through the one Eris extended for her to take. The male had begrudgingly worn the same style the three of them wore at the top end of the aisle; charcoal coloured and tailored to their bodies. Cassian was itching to be out of it; it didn’t suit him like leathers did but Nesta might have murdered him if he turned up to their wedding as if he was attending a battle.

The time it took them to reach the altar felt like nothing and everything. The train of her dress wasn’t too long, but it draped behind her, the veil was also long enough to blend with it. It was a simple dress where the bodice clung to her frame and tiny flowers had been stitched by hand to the lace by Rovena. The straps dripped off her shoulders to her upper arms, exposing the pale skin of her chest. The flowing skirt swirled about her legs as Nesta walked with Eris towards them. The dress was Nesta. Simple, elegant, beautiful.

He caught the slight quake in her delicate fingers as Eris presented her to him, placing her hand into Cassian’s. He was slightly glad to feel that her hand was as damp with sweat as his own.

Cassian raised the veil from her face as if uncovering a precious treasure. Her cheeks had taken on a rosy hue from the attention and she appeared all the more bewitching for it. Nesta’s hair was unbound for all the world to see; a wave of gold cascading down her back.

‘Beautiful. So beautiful.’

Nesta smiled, silver already rimming her eyes. ‘I missed you last night.’

‘Me too.’ He kissed her forehead.

They had woven together their own vows, taking ones from Prythian and Illyria then casting them with mortal ones to create something unique. Something that was theirs. They both spoke in unison while the priestess wound the length of ruby ribbon around their joined hands. The tradition was black, but they had bucked tradition as often as they could. Nesta had wanted red for his siphons – and Cassian did whatever she asked. They had already formally accepted the mating bond so the ribbon was more for decoration.

‘I have fled the bad, I have found the better. There shall be one love for us both; one bond after our vows. We proclaim ourselves one in flesh and in spirit. I give you that which is mine to give – my heart, my soul, my forever. We pledge with sincerity to be each other’s in sickness and in health, in this world or the immortal land of milk and honey. I am yours.’

I am yours. The words echoed around them, filling Cassian with pure euphoria. Nesta was his. He was hers. He placed a golden band on her finger and she did the same to him.

‘May the Mother bless you, guide you, and carry you together,’ the priestess said, sealing their vows to each other.

He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Nesta’s lips. Through the rapturous applause, Nesta murmured, ‘Is that all I get?’

She tilted her head upwards for more, a proud albeit mischievous smile flickering to her pouting lips. Cassian swept her up to his chest with one arm, pinning her to his broad body, as their lips met again with more fervour. Somebody in the crowd whistled, maybe Helion, but Cassian didn’t care. He was married and mated to Nesta Archeron. No male could want more.

***

The ribbon binding Nesta and Cassian’s hand provided one benefit: he had to greet their guests alongside her. Many of them were his own acquaintances; camp lords who would find great offence if they were not invited even if the event was mind-numbingly boring for them. None dared to call her a witch that day, not after news of her being possessed by the Mother had swept across Illyria and much of Prythian. Nesta had achieved legendary-like status where she was viewed with both awe and fear. It kept the camp lords quiet at least, one even trembled at the sight of her.

Once everybody had a glass of something in their hands, Rhys had insisted upon speeches. His was the longest, only coming to an end when Feyre’s eyes had glazed and likely told him to end it. Feyre had spoken next then finally Azriel, who gave the shortest and most amusing one.

‘To my brother, I wish you every happiness. And to Nesta,’ he gave a pointed look to Cassian and gulped, ‘good luck.’

He’s sank into shadow at the attention, but Cassian still stuck his middle finger up towards his direction.

A spread of food covered long tables near the water’s edge. They had rejected a sit-down meal for something more casual where people could mingle and talk while an Illyrian band played. The same band from Spring, who had played at her leaving party, would come at nightfall to play more ballads which Nesta was looking forward to immensely. Another table was piled with presents. A young male from Iron Crest was keeping a watch on them. Cassian informed her that he was the one who had fought alongside him during Briallyn’s coup of the camp.

‘Congratulations emissary,’ said a friendly male voice. ‘General.’

‘I’ve retired,’ Nesta said, holding up her hands.

Fionn kissed her hand then shook Cassian’s own, before calling over his wife and children. The initial shyness presented by Nuala faded when Nesta exclaimed how quietly the little girl had sat through the ceremony. Baby Eimear had grown a thick crop of curly blonde hair and one lone tooth at the bottom of her gum.

‘This is from the Spring Court,’ said Aoife handing Nesta a gift.

‘From all of you?’ Cassian teased.

‘Well, Tamlin. But it’s taken us a while to track it down. Open it. You’ll see.’

She and Cassian exchanged a curious look. The rectangular gift was wrapped in brown paper. Definitely a book.

At the sight of the cover, her heart dropped into her stomach. It was a good drop, she decided. A good, overwhelming lurch. She touched a shaking finger to the cover.

‘It is the right one, isn’t it?’

The general of the Spring Court searched Nesta’s face then his eldest daughter’s. It was a book of children’s stories – ones likely influenced by fae history due to the magic within. Nesta had told Nuala the same stories on nights that she’d put her to bed, trying to recall them from her own memories. The little girl had never heard such stories, so Nesta had explained that she once had a kindly nursemaid who used to read her bedtime tales when she was a mortal. Never her mother or father. Nesta couldn’t recall a time when either parent had ever put her to bed. It was always the servants who tucked them in or stayed at their beds if they were sick. It was the exact copy of the book that used to be read to her – perhaps not the one she had owned, but one a mortal had once had. The pages were worn in places, nibbled yellow at the edges.

‘The interrogation tactics we had to employ on this one to get every last detail about the book,’ he grinned, squeezing Nuala’s shoulders.

‘They’re mortal stories for children,’ Nesta explained to Cassian, throat thick with emotion.

He gripped her hand, squeezing it gently to keep her from unravelling at the thoughtful nature of the gift. ‘It’s a wonderful gift. Thank you all.’

Aoife smiled. ‘There wasn’t a book in the manor that you hadn’t read and when Nuala talked about the stories you told her, we knew they had to be mortal ones. We thought – one day when you have children – you could read them to your own.’

Nesta had managed to hold back her tears during the ceremony, had managed during the speeches, but this was the pebble that caused the avalanche. She didn’t know what made her so emotional. Perhaps because the gift was incredibly thoughtful and special. Perhaps because it was a link to her past when she had nothing left from her life below the wall. Perhaps it was the thought of becoming a mother and raising a child alongside Cassian and giving them all of the love that they had both been denied.

As tears streamed down her cheeks, Nesta embraced Aoife then Fionn. Cassian unravelled the ribbon from their hands so he could place a gentle one on the small of her back, holding her steady.

It was the only gift Cassian let her open at the ceremony as he was worried that she might blub her way through the rest of the night if they were all so considerate. They took a moment to themselves whilst Nesta composed herself near the edge of the lake. He kept his arms around her so she breathed in his scent of cedar and the wind.

‘Would you like to be a mother?’

‘Not yet. But yes. I want that more than anything.’

‘You will be brilliant.’

Nesta looked into his hazel eyes. There were still hurdles ahead concerning raising a child in Illyria, still battles to be fought. Their plans for an orphanage were developing nicely with a plot of land bought on the outskirts of Windhaven beside a meadow of wildflowers. It wasn’t the time to create life yet, but they both had so much love to give to ones who had no parents. Emerie was excited at the prospect of being part of it too and she had begun to speak to Nesta in simple Illyrian sentences to help her learn the language better. It filled Nesta with hope.

‘I cannot wait for this future with you,’ she said, reaching up to stroke a hand across his face.

‘Whatever comes our way, it’s you and I through everything.’

The Lady of the Autumn Court had been under heavy guard during the celebrations. Whilst Eris had been occupied, Baran had kept a watch on Adeline along with Lucien, and the moment Eris was relieved of duties, he was back at his mother’s side. Nesta had a feeling it was to keep a certain handsome high lord away from her. In the past, Nesta would have expected Helion to jump at the chance of spilling his charm on the guests, but his eyes had never strayed for long from Adeline during the celebrations. The longing on his expression was painful, though Adeline tried not to look at him. She would change directions or turn her face away as though she could feel the weight of his gaze.

Nesta dragged Cassian towards Eris and Adeline.

‘Hello Adeline, this is my husband, Cassian. I wanted to thank you for raising a son kind enough to walk me down the aisle.’

‘Thank you so much for letting me be a part of your happiness.’

Lucien wasn’t solely Helion’s. Those kind eyes were hers. Even traits of Eris could be found in his mother’s face. Rather than the Autumn hues of red and amber, she’d opted for a forest green gown with golden stitching. She was still too thin, her russet eyes still heavy with sadness, but she had left the Forest House and that was a victory to be celebrated.

‘We are honoured to have you here,’ Cassian replied smoothly, playing courtier.

Eris searched over his shoulder to place Helion’s location, ready to spirit his mother away if he encroached on them. Helion remained chatting with Rhysand and Cresseida though his eyes frequently flitted to them.

A small hand tugged at Nesta’s dress then Lorin extended his arms upwards to be lifted up to her hip. Adeline smiled fondly to the boy as Nesta swept his black hair from his eyes.

‘He is a darling.’

‘And he’s put a sticky hand on your dress,’ Eris remarked.

Sure enough, there was a small mark on her gown, but it did not bother Nesta. The dress, though lovingly made, was only a dress. Having the people who mattered to her around was the greater gift.

‘I remember when you were that small,’ said Adeline to her eldest. ‘I was so young and so nervous, but the Mother blessed me with the easiest baby imaginable. All Eris did was sleep. Never gave me any cause for concern. He went to anybody, never fussed, never sick. A very good baby. Not like my youngest.’

‘Was Lucien a difficult child?’ Cassian asked, trying hard to bridge a conversation.

Before Adeline could speak, Eris explained, ‘a spoilt baby. One who would not settle unless he was in somebody’s arms.’

She touched her son’s cheek lovingly. ‘And I remember my eldest being sat beside his youngest brother’s cot in the mornings where he’d gone into his room at night because he didn’t like to be apart from him.’

Colour bloomed high on Eris’ cheekbones. He might have been a high lord, but his mother still could successfully embarrass him. Cassian’s brows had gone high in disbelief.

‘I never said I didn’t spoil him. It was a collective effort.’ He squeezed his mother’s shoulder.

It was strange to imagine a life if Beron had not been so cruel. Whether Lucien might have stayed at the Autumn Court – whether Elain would still be his mate. The two females had met. Nesta had craned her neck over Emerie’s shoulder when she had seen Lucien taking Elain towards his mother to introduce them. She’d wished she had Azriel’s shadows to eavesdrop. That pair had been making steps towards friendship. While Lucien’s leg had been healing, he would take a short walk around Velaris with Elain. A couple of times, they had taken tea at Elain’s invitation. Slowly, but surely, something was blooming between them.

Lorin tipped forwards on Nesta’s hips, stretching out his hands towards Adeline. He babbled in Illyrian and Cassian squinted, trying to translate for them. ‘I think he wants your necklace.’

‘May I?’

Lorin went to Adeline happily, more comfortable with females than males. Sure enough, his hand clasped around the thin, silver chain around her neck that she had raised for him to take. Nesta prayed that he’d not give it a sharp tug and snap it – though Adeline did not appear like she would mind. Her face had gone all soft and wistful.

Marsela had attended the ceremony, but had tired quickly. Balthazar had escorted her home, with Rovena offering to keep the children with her when Lule began to cry that she didn’t want to go home. Nesta had a feeling that the children were a distraction for Rovena, soothing her nerves.

On cue, Lule appeared, flapping around all of their heads. Her hair had been tamed into a long fishtail braid, but strands of it had been pulled loose.

‘That’s my brother,’ she explained, surging past Eris’ ear. ‘He doesn’t talk yet.’

‘You make up for it,’ chided Cassian, trying to catch her from the air, but the girl was too fast. She darted downwards, wings snapping together like a fin. It was a trick Balthazar had taught her.

Rovena stood to the side, trying hopelessly to draw Lule back to her. A shadow trailed her, likely on his son’s order, but he was busy dancing with Gwyn near the band. Her teal eyes had lit up at the sight of the musicians gathered and Azriel had been besotted enough to ask her to dance.

Nesta gestured for the female to join them, desperate to seize the opportunity presented, but Rovena remained rooted to the spot, holding out a hand for Lule. The girl sighed her name, drawing out each vowel with dramatic exaggeration.

If Rovena wouldn’t move to them, they would go to her. Nesta took a step closer and introduced her. ‘This is Rovena, Azriel’s mother. She is the delightful female responsible for creating this incredible dress – all of the dresses actually.’

Lule swooped into Rovena’s arms, the elder of the pair clinging tightly to the younger. ‘And she made mine!’

‘You have a wonderful talent,’ Adeline said, following suit and taking a graceful step closer, still balancing Lorin against her hip.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, dipping her head slightly.

Nesta wove an arm around Rovena’s back, beneath the lower curve of her wings, to ease her discomfort.

‘Do you only have one child?’

Rovena gave a terse nod while Lule squirmed to escape her grip and flutter around them again.

‘I had seven. All boys.’

‘You say it as if it’s a bad thing, mother,’ Eris said, eyes cataloguing the way Rovena shielded herself with Lule, the way she defaulted to pointing her face to the ground. Eris was clever. He was likely taking this piece of Azriel’s history and comparing it to the burns on his hands. Nesta did not believe he would use it as leverage against the male however, not with how protective he was of his own mother. There were some lines that were not meant to be crossed.

‘A daughter would have been nice,’ she replied.

‘Girls are better than boys,’ Lule declared.

‘We won’t keep you any longer,’ Nesta said, winding her arm through Cassian’s again. She gave a pointed look to Eris, to ease up on his protection and let his mother have freedom. There was a sense that the females might be able to talk more without everybody watching, to use the children as a common ground. Nesta wondered if Adeline had ever been able to have friends – just as Rovena had been lonely through self-isolation.

Sure enough, once they had given them space, Adeline started a conversation again – likely about Lorin by the way she lifted him higher and the way Rovena reached forwards to smooth his hair down. Eris fought against his instinct to rush back to his mother’s side and be her shield, but some behaviours, no matter how good they were, could stifle.

‘When are you letting Helion close to her?’ Cassian asked, unable to stop himself from striking the tinder.

Eris rolled his eyes. ‘It is on her orders I keep them apart.’

‘A dutiful son.’

‘Now, now boys. Play nice,’ Nesta warned.

She took Cassian for another walk around, ensuring they had spoken at least once to every guest present as was expected. Her feet were beginning to throb, and she’d not been able to eat a bite because every forkful had been interrupted, but her mate promised her a warm bath and whatever she wanted to eat when they returned to their home that night.

Nuala had led Aoife by the hand towards Lule. The two small girls had been tearing around the party for most of the evening, hand in hand. At the sight of baby Eimear, Rovena and Adeline had turned into sap. Both females cooed at the small, golden-haired babe. Nerves faded between them and Nesta gave a contented sigh, watching from the opposite end of the celebration. She slipped her hand into Cassian’s, squeezing once then nodding towards the females.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, drawing her in close for a kiss. ‘That’s a good thing.’

She agreed. It was unlikely their paths would cross again, but the seeds had been sewn. The two females who had suffered irreparably at the hands of males had met and seen themselves in each other. All Nesta had wanted was to show them that they were not alone.

‘Why doesn’t he say anything?’

Nesta searched for Helion, but he was stood with an arm slung around Lucien, likely embarrassing him from the blush on his cheeks. Cassian’s warm hand gripped her chin and turned it so she looked upon Eris.

The male stood stiffly with a drink in his hand, one eye on his mother, the other sparing a glance to Mor occasionally. She was dancing with Feyre, blonde hair bouncing as she twirled. Mor had kept up her act of outright ignoring the male and he had not tried to speak to her at all.

It had been an awkward conversation when Nesta had explained that Eris would be accompanying her down the aisle so Mor spending time with the other females in Illyria would mean also spending time with Eris. Thankfully, Cassian had been the one to broach the topic, compromising that she was welcome with him and his brothers. It made sense that way, the two females were not still not particularly friendly with each other.

‘Eris wants her to tell the truth, I think. Ironic considering her power.’

Cassian thought on it for a moment. ‘Maybe its his instincts too. If he exposes what they are, it would hurt her.’

‘The pull is getting stronger for both of them since he’s become high lord. A conversation will need to happen soon. I think he’s waiting for her to sever it.’

‘You think he’ll let her?’

‘Let her?’ Nesta snorted softly, weaving her fingers through Cassian’s. ‘He’s not exposed their bond in half a millennium. He’s far better than you give him credit for.’

It was a night spent dancing under the magnificent Illyrian stars. Nesta had kicked off her shoes once they had made her feet bleed but continued dancing with her friends. Her mate had managed one dance, where they’d crashed knees and thrown their heads back with joyous laughter, but she hadn’t forced him into any more.

Guests said their goodbyes once the night began to wane though some were still full of vigour. Gwyn was one of the first to leave with Azriel winnowing her back to the library, but she promised to see Nesta again soon. Rovena went soon after, insisting that Balthazar was capable of walking her home. That was a big step – Azriel seemed to realise it too. The young male had Lule cradled to his chest, finally slumbering, but Lorin, in Rovena’s arms, was fighting sleep. Nesta knew that Azriel was scared to leave his mother with Balthazar even if it was mere minutes to her warded home, but he had to resist smothering her when she was trying to be brave. When Balthazar had returned, Azriel had thanked him privately, but the tension still lined his face.

It was a perfect day. A perfect night. Nesta could not recall a time where she had been so gloriously happy or hopeful of what was to come in her life. With Cassian at her side, she felt brave enough to do anything, to try anything.

‘What do you say we go home,’ Cassian said before kissing her, ‘I run you a bubble bath,’ another kiss, ‘give you a massage,’ another kiss, ‘then we don’t leave the bedroom until tomorrow night?’

‘And all of these guests?’

‘Rhys invited them. He can play hostess.’

‘Let’s go home and see Zasha.’

Cassian lifted Nesta by the waist until her legs wrapped around his hips. Her arms came around his neck so she could tuck her face into it. It wasn’t their usual way to fly, but there was an intimacy in it that only lovers could have. Lovers, mates, spouses. Friends. It had been a long journey for them. They had needed to become friends long before they had been anything else to each other. They had needed time to grow with each other, to learn from each other. A mating bond was not love. Love was what had developed over months of laughter and teasing, of teaching and learning together.

The light within her chest brightened to a radiant sun as his wings lifted them into the air. There was no other for Nesta. Cassian was her forever. The future was welcomed now, a bright warmth that she was happy to walk towards with him at her side.

#au acosf #the final final bit

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