#acotargiftexchange2023
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❈ ❈ Holiday Traditions ❈ ❈
A/n: I'm so happy I got to participate in the @acotargiftexchange this year! I had so much fun coming up with what Nesta and Cassian do to prepare hosting their first christams for @moodymelanist . I also saw it’s her birthday today! So show her some love and check out her fics they are amazing🤗
I hope you like it❤️ happy birthday Merry Christmas love!
warnings: none, just pure Christmas cheer 🥰
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Nesta plopped the last box of ornaments on the coffee table with an accomplished sigh. She had successfully brought down all of the boxes by herself from the attic. Cassian was going to help but she grew impatient waiting for him to come home from shopping. It was the last thing they had to do and Nesta was too excited to wait. So she chugged her morning coffee and braved the attic ladder for the spirit of Christmas.
This was Nyx’s first Christams so everything had to be perfect for her little nephew. Looking around the living room Nesta smiled to herself. The mantle–which currently housed a roaring fire– was beautifully decorated with fir branches, colorful winter candyland baubles, twinkling lights, and two large bows at either end. Their usual soft throw pillows on the couches have been changed out for candy cane pillows and blankets with snowflakes and snowmen.
The only thing left to decorate was the tree. Nesta started opening all the plastic boxes when the front door opened, Cassian’s cheery voice ringing through their warm home. When he appeared in the living room bags of different sizes decorated his arms, a large grin on his face. “Hey baby, I thought I was going to help you with those?” Nesta returned his smile unwrapping the book stack ornament Cassian got her last year. “I could’t wait. Did you get the stuff for our mega gingerbread house?”
Cassian chuckled and held up a bag from their favorite bakery. “Oh yeah. Let me put this stuff away and we’ll decorate.” Nesta smiled at his retreating back. She couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world. As a child her and her sisters never had a good holiday experience thanks to their parents. Their mother’s focus was throwing the best parties for Christmas and New Years. Always neglecting to get the girls presents or doing any holiday activities with them.
When Feyre and Rhysand found each other that’s when the new holiday traditions started. The first time they all spent Christmas together Nesta was drawn to Cassian and the love he had for the holiday. He made sure she and Elain felt welcome, the brothers even made sure they had a few gifts to open. Ever since that day Cassian and Nesta were inseperable.
Cassian laid out the gingerbread pieces on the island along with the icing and candy toppings. He swiped two candy canes for him and Nes before sorting gifts that could be wrapped today and ones that he’d wrap tonight when Nesta was fast asleep. Gathering the gifts, wrapping paper, tape, and scissors he headed back to the living room.
Nesta was half done unwrapping the ornaments, humming along to the Christmas playlist lightly playing from the speaker. Cassian never knew why she insisted on throwing Justin Bieber’s Christmas album into the mix of songs but he went with it. He would never tell Nesta that he enjoyed it. Cassian would never hear the end of it from her or his brothers. Dumping the gift supplies on the couch Cassian started picking up ornaments, choosing which ones he wanted to hang on the tree first.
As the hours passed Cassian and Nesta were giggling as they reminisced about the joke ornaments they had bought each other over the years. Cassian found a Santa hat in one of the decoration boxes and decided it was his, even though Nesta fought him for it. Her consolation prize was silver tinsel Cassian wrapped around her like a scarf.
Once the tree was done, Cassian and Nesta stood back wrapped in each other’s arms. Cassian kissed her tinsel covered head and looked down at his girlfriend with deep adoration. She looks so beautiful with the colorful Christmas lights reflecting in her blue-gray eyes. Images of their future together ran through his mind. A few more holidays by themselves and one day, maybe, a set of twin girls with his hair and her features running around. They’re in matching Christmas PJ’s trying to sneak a peak at the gifts they spent hours wrapping after bedtime before being caught by mom and dad.
Breaking him from his thoughts Nesta bumped her hip against his. “Alright you,” she said cooly, “Lets get to wrapping.”
Getting settled on the floor Cassian started rolling out wrapping paper. Nesta turned on the TV immediately changing the channel. When Nesta saw Rudolph was on she let out a happy hum, watching with a childlike wonder Cassian rarely saw from her. They noticed most of the gifts are for Nyx. Yeah he’s only a few months old, but Cassian and Nesta wanted his first Christmas to be special. Since they were hosting, the pair wanted their nephew to be the center of attention.
Moving to the kitchen Cassian put the kettle on for hot cocoa as Nesta took a seat at the island and began unwrapping the toppings, throwing a few gumdrops in her mouth. “Hey,” she said to get Cassian’s attention. He turned to see Nesta cocking her arm back, gumdrop between her fingers, nodding at him with a determined smile. Cassian smirks, opening his mouth wide, leaning his head back a little. Nesta launches it in a short arch landing right on Cassian’s tongue. They both raise their arms in victory letting out a twin ‘woo’.
Mega gingerbread house had to look perfect this year since it would be the center piece of the mantel. So this year they actually tried to not make it a disaster that would collapse just so they could eat it. Once it was a sugary monstrosity Nyx was sure to grab at, the pair carefully transported mega gingerbread house to its pedestal. It was quite impressive. The house looked like it belonged on a mountain top, Nesta guessed it kind of was thanks to where it was placed.
Looking at his watch Cassian grimaced, noting it was much later than he thought.
Getting settled in bed Cass watched his show on his iPad while Nesta read Christmas book seven of the twelve he got her. She hated being behind on her twelve days of Christmas reads. This one was about a long distance couple finally meeting for a magically holiday in the city.
An hour passed before Cassian heard Nes slightly snoring. He smiled to himself as he softly kisses her forehead, silently slipping out from under the covers. Two years ago Cass caught Nesta snooping through her gift pile during the day so he made the decision to wrap in the middle of the night.
Sorting through the gifts in the living room Cassian couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. This year’s haul for Nesta was perfect if he did say so himself. He even got her special wrapping paper with little books on it.
After an hour of wrapping gifts Cassian crept back upstairs. There was one more thing he had to check on before he went to sleep. Tiptoeing as best he could to the closet he slipped inside. Using the flash light on his phone so he wouldn’t wake Nesta he quietly opened his shirt drawer, digging out the smal black velvet box.
Checking on the ring he knew was tucked away in the perfect hiding spot Cassian grined. Everytime Cass looked at the engagement ring his heart pounded with excitement. It took all of his self restraint to not propose to Nesta everyday. No, he would wait and make this the best Christmas, better than the one they first met. He’ll never forget the surprised face Nesta made when he handed her that first gift. Cassian smiled thinking about the surprise that will grace Nesta’s beautiful face in just two days.
Two more days and they’ll have a life time of happy holidays together.
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar reader imagine#acotar imagine#cassian acotar#nesta acotar#nesta archeron#nesta archeron acotar#nessian#nessian fanfiction#nessian fanfic#nesta x cassian#nessian fluff#nesta x cassian fluff#acotargiftexchange2023#acotar secret santa 2023#modern!nessian
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Firm and Fragrant Still the Brambleberries
For @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk. Happy Holidays! It has been such a joy to get to know you over these last few months. You are wonderful and brilliant, and I cannot wait to FINALLY be able to scream in your comments about my obsession with Semper Eadem without arousing your suspicions.
Many thanks to @velidewrites and @perhapsajacket for beta reading this first part of this fic and reassuring me that the Nessian vibes were working. And many thanks to @acotargiftexchange for putting together this wonderful event. Y’all are the absolute best! 🥰
Summary: When Nesta became a nurse at the start of the war, she could not have predicted a patient as challenging as Lieutenant Cassian Davies, nor he a nurse as captivating as her. As the same war that brought them together threatens to tear them apart, Nesta and Cassian must navigate the complexities of love and duty to find the way back to each other. A WWI historical AU.
For information about the historical elements to this fic, see the end notes.
This is chapter 1 of 4.
Read on AO3 or continue reading below the cut!
Chapter 1: Somerville College, Oxford
July 1916
“I think of you hour by hour. You are always close in your own secret place in my heart. I hold you in my arms when no one else is near. I kiss your forehead, your eyes, your hair. No, not your lips, dear, even in fancy. I have never in my maddest dreams kissed your lips. But I ache and crave and long for them, though—till you give me leave—I dare not even pretend that they are mine. Will you ever give me leave? You say No now. Yet I think you will, Avery. I think you will. I have known ever since that first moment—”
“He’s asking for you again.”
Nesta looked up from her book to see Gwyn Berdara’s head poking through the doorway. It was late—or early, rather, she realized, blearily squinting at the clock on the wall and rubbing her eyes. She should have retired to her bed in the dormitory hours ago, and from the pleased look on Gwyn’s face at catching her off-guard, her fellow nurse was well-aware of that fact.
“Surely someone who’s actually on duty,” Nesta said, yawning and looking pointedly at Gwyn, “can take care of whatever it is he needs.”
Gwyn snorted. “Apparently there’s no one except ‘Nurse Nes’ who can make the pain go away with her magic touch.” She waggled her eyebrows. “So it’s a good thing you’re still here.”
Bristling at the nickname that only one of the soldiers convalescing at the Third Southern General Hospital was shameless enough to call her, she replied curtly, “I’m not going. Tell him I’m not here.”
“I don’t think he’d believe me,” Gwyn said, grinning.
“And why is that?”
“Because,” said Emerie Carynth, appearing suddenly beside Gwyn and wearing a matching smile on her face, “I told him you’d still be here.”
Nesta glared at her.
“Not on purpose, I swear,” Emerie quickly amended. “But don’t think I missed that you have a copy of Dell’s new romance.” Nesta glanced down at the book she still held open in her hands, her attention briefly flicking back to the dramatic confessional love letter left she had been in the middle of reading. “We saw you try to hide it in the dining room when it came in the post. I bet Gwyn you wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to start it.”
Returning her focus to her traitorous fellow nurse, Nesta frowned. “That doesn’t explain how he knows I’m still here.”
“He may have overheard me celebrating my victory a few minutes ago.” She smirked. “Gwyn has to take my shifts with Merrill for the next week.”
Nesta grimaced. The older nurse was brutal to work with, especially if she thought the VAD nurses like Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta were shirking their responsibilities. She accommodating enough for the soldiers, but all the nurses knew to steer clear of her wrath whenever possible.
Gwyn nodded at Nesta’s expression. “And he was my next patient when Emerie found me.”
“And what? He forced you to come back here and bother me?”
“He asked nicely.”
“Weak, Gwyneth Berdara. Weak.” Nesta knew her fellow nurse had a soft spot for soldiers like him who bore their injuries with grace and good humor, willing to crack a joke or, if they were not too injured, gambol about the grounds during recreation hours. Especially if those soldiers were tall and dark-haired and unreasonably muscled.
Gwyn shrugged unapologetically. “Like he doesn’t make you flustered, Nesta.”
“He does not,” Nesta bit out. Exasperated, absolutely. Incensed, occasionally. Even, in rare moments, begrudgingly amused. But certainly not flustered.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you are,” Emerie said, grinning with a faux innocence that Nesta didn’t believe for a moment. “He’s not even my type,” she smirked. “But I have eyes.”
“I hate you.”
“As much as you hate him?”
“More.”
Gwyn hummed. “Lucky Emerie.”
Nesta raised an eyebrow in question.
“Oh, nothing. I’ve just never known anyone whose hate looked so much like desire before.”
Emerie winked salaciously at Nesta, who only rolled her eyes at her friends’ antics. “I’m still not going.”
“Sure you’re not, Nurse Nes.”
“Emerie, I swear—”
“He expected you’d say that.” Gwyn smiled, interrupting them. “And he told me to tell you that if you didn’t come help him, he’d have to cope with the pain through song.”
“Arse.” She had heard him singing with the men before—loud, raucous marching songs that seemed to be dictated primarily by enthusiasm rather than any actual musical talent. “So he intends to wake the whole wing if I don’t go? That’s asking nicely, Gwyn?”
Gwyn shrugged. “I’m sure Clotho and Merrill wouldn’t blame you for it.”
But they would, Nesta knew. When she paused her studies at Somerville to join the VAD and the military hospital that sprang up in what had once been her college, she and her fellow volunteers were told to make the patients in their care as happy as possible, no matter what. They were not to do anything that would cause a scandal, of course, but barring that, any desire was considered reasonable—extra food after mealtimes, a new pillow every hour, even time with a preferred nurse if requested. After all, they were exactly what the first letter of their organization’s acronym indicated: voluntary. They had no previous training, no credentials or certificates like those possessed by the professional nurses who oversaw them. What did they know?
Quite a bit, and often more than the so-called ‘professionals’. Certainly more than they did a year and a half ago when they first entered the service. Nesta may have been raised in a manor house, bred for marriage and comfort after the culmination of her studies, but the war had changed all of that, had changed her. She was no longer a stranger to fluids and grotesque injuries, to bodies and hard, messy work. Gwyn and Emerie were the same.
But none of that mattered, not really, to the more senior nurses, except for the fact that it made their jobs marginally easier. The VAD women were still expected to appease and please. So they did.
Nesta sighed, looking forlornly at the book she wouldn’t get to pick up again for at least another day.
“I’ll tell him to expect you in ten minutes, then?” Gwyn asked, reading her decision on her face.
“Yes, alright,” Nesta grumbled, standing and stretching for the first time in—she glanced again at the clock—three hours. She hoped that whatever nonsense she was about to face would resolve itself quickly enough that she could get home and sleep, although, she thought, as she began to gather her things, she wouldn’t count on it.
“Hope Dell’s book was worth it!” Emerie called as she moved out of the doorway and back into the darkened ward.
“I’m sure it was,” Gwyn said to Nesta, following Emerie out. “Piers’ letter?” She asked knowingly.
“Piers’ letter.” Nesta mimed fanning herself, and Gwyn laughed as she left Nesta to gather her things.
Grumbling about needing to find new friends, Nesta slowly made her way into what had once been the West dining room. With thin walls, cramped quarters, and a confusing odor of long-forgotten roast dinners mingled with astringent antiseptics, it was ill-suited to its current purpose as a hospital ward.
Almost as ill-suited, Nesta mused to herself as she wended her way through the beds of sleeping men, as she was to the nursing profession. Her friends seemed to take to the profession naturally: Gwyn had quickly amassed a staggering knowledge of illness and injuries and could diagnose patients quicker than most of the physicians; Emerie demonstrated a singular talent for using the standard physician-prescribed therapies in innovative ways to help the soldiers progress more quickly along their healing journey.
Nesta had no such mastery. She wasn’t incompetent at any task, and was quite good at many of them, but she did not have any particular specialty. Nor did she excel at the ‘appease and please’ aspect of her role. She had little patience for the soldiers’ petty complaints, their bored antics, their casual flirting. She did her job, cared for her patients professionally and efficiently, shutting down their attempts for favors and conversation and flirtation, and went home to her books at the end of the day. It was how she liked it. And it meant that, over time, few soldiers particularly liked her.
All except one.
At the sound of her approaching footsteps, Nesta saw him turn his head, a satisfied smile already stretching across his face that, had he been anyone else, would have caused Nesta’s heart to start racing.
As a man, Lieutenant Cassian Davies was magnetic. Handsome in a rugged kind of way, he was imposingly tall and broad with a body that, even injured as it was, spoke of lethal grace and destructive power. His face bore the proof of this: small scars cut across his eyebrows and lips, and his nose had clearly been broken and reset at least once. His hazel eyes often shone with a mirth that drew soldiers and nurses alike to his bedside, but there was an edge to them as well—something surprisingly hard and deceptively calculating. Like all of the men convalescing at their hospital, Lieutenant Davies had seen tremendous bloodshed, but he alone seemed to rise above it, to possess some inherent mastery over it. He was dangerous and desirable in equal measure, and though Nesta refused to join in with the other nurses when they gushed about him in the privacy of their dormitory, she couldn’t deny his appeal.
As a patient though? He was everything she loathed: loud, flirtatious, stubborn, and shamelessly relentless in his attempts to irritate her.
“Nurse Nes!”
“Threatening to wake the ward is a new low, even for you, Lieutenant Davies. And don’t call me that.” Nesta hissed, approaching his bedside and glaring down at him.
“Sweetheart—” Lieutenant Davies raised his good arm in an attempt to pacify her, but Nesta interrupted him.
“Wrong again, Lieutenant.”
He rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Nurse Archeron,” he apologized with mock contrition, affecting the tone of an impudent schoolboy brought before his headmaster. “I’m so glad you could make it. I was just about to treat the lads to a rendition of ‘Pack Up Your Troubles.’”
Nesta didn’t dignify that with a response, choosing instead to look over his chart to guess at what it was he might need. The sooner she could figure it out, the sooner she could leave Lieutenant Davies and his foolishness behind. She could make it through this without succumbing to his antics. She could be professional. She could.
Even with her eyes focused on his chart, however, she felt the weight of his gaze on her, deciding how best to challenge her attempt at professionalism.
And then he found it: “I still could sing, you know. You might benefit from hearing the chorus.”
She whipped her head up and saw his eyes spark with pleasure at having successfully baited her, but she was too irritated to care. “‘Smile, smile, smile?’” Nesta asked, biting out the lyrics.
“You already know the words! You’ll be a natural in no time.”
“Please.” She resisted the urge to argue further, forcing herself to direct her attention back to the chart in her hands. Could he want another pillow? Or more food? Was he due for—
“So, what do you say, Nes?” Lieutenant Davies asked, interrupting her train of thought. “Are you going to smile, smile, smile?” He grinned as he softly sang the melody.
“Your singing is atrocious.”
He scoffed. “It’s excellent. Now, my dancing—.”
“I can only imagine that it’s even worse, Lieutenant Davies,” she interrupted.
“Once I get back up on my feet again I promise to show you just how wrong you are. Don’t think I didn’t notice you considering a smile.”
“Enough.” This had to end. Nesta could feel the weight of her hair heavy on her head after having it tied up in her standard braided coronet all day, and that, coupled with Lieutenant Davies’ teasing, was threatening to give her a headache. “What do you want?”
“Nesta Archeron,” he admonished, and Nesta chose to ignore the way her body shivered at the sound of her full name on his lips. “We have got to work on your bedside manner.”
She huffed. “If you find it so appalling, there are at least a dozen other nurses who would be more than happy to assist you.”
“I told Gwynnie. None of them have your magic touch.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Nes—”
“Wake the whole ward for all I care.” She dropped his chart with a clatter and turned on her heel, ready to storm out
There was a pause, and then, before she could take a step, Lieutenant Davies called out softly, “My shoulder is a little sore.”
Nesta imagined it was. The report of his injury at the Somme had been a gruesome note in what was and continued to be the bloodiest battle of the war thus far, and one that just kept going, if the steady stream of new patients into the hospital was anything to be believed. A few days into the battle, Lieutenant Davies had been wounded by shell fragments that embedded themselves into his chest and shoulder, some dangerously close to his lungs. He bore the injury well, but from the lines etched on his face and the tension in his jaw, she could tell it ached more than he let on. He would be bedridden for at least another two weeks before physical therapy could begin.
“And you couldn’t ask Nurse Berdara for another dose of morphine?”
“You make me feel like I’ve earned it, sweetheart.”
She snorted at that. “Fine.” She stooped to gather the supplies she would need from a low shelf on the cart at the foot of his bed, then turned to pull on gloves and prepare the needle for the injection. “But only because you were due for one anyway.”
“Whatever you say, Nurse Archeron. I know you like me.” As she administered the drug, he began humming quietly, his body slowly loosening as it worked its way through his system.
“Done. Goodnight, Lieutenant Davies.”
“No goodnight kiss?” He murmured the question as his eyes shuttered closed, relentlessly flirtatious to the last.
Nesta watched the morphine lull Lieutenant Davies into a deep sleep. “For you? I think not.”
She turned and made her way quietly out of the ward, thinking of her bed and her book. And if her thoughts drifted back to a certain sleeping soldier and she smiled slightly? Well, there was no one awake to notice.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
August 1916
“How are you feeling, Lieutenant Davies?”
Cassian looked up from the casualty sheets he had been apprehensively scanning for his brothers’ names to find Sr. Merrill, one of the older nurses who oversaw the hospital, standing at the foot of his bed.
His arm fucking ached—not that he would say that to a nun. He hadn’t lost all his manners in the trenches.
Just most of them. And especially when faced with the pretty nurse who made him feel more than a little stupid with her honey-brown hair and sharp tongue. But Nesta Archeron was nowhere in sight, nor had she been for several days—attempting to avoid him, most likely.
So he only answered, “Still a little sore, m’am. But better than yesterday.”
Sr. Merrill smiled at that. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re in good spirits. You’re to start physical therapy today.”
Cassian could have wept with joy. Although the injury had been localized to his upper body, the damage had been severe enough that the doctors had insisted that he remain bedridden and stuck indoors for at least a month. And he had, albeit reluctantly. For someone used to near-constant activity, whose men called him ‘the General’ for the drills he would put them (and himself) through between battles, a month of idleness was akin to torture. There were only so many card games a man could play or books he could read, only so many soldiers and nurses he could talk to, and (in his bleaker moments) only so many times he could catalog in minute detail the unidentifiable stains that graced the walls of the ward. Restless and bored, Cassian was more than ready to get back on his feet, to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on his face again. “When do I start?”
“Tomorrow. I have you scheduled with Nurse Carynth. She’s one of our best for physical therapy.”
Cassian knew her. Strikingly pretty and statuesque, she could out-swear most of the men and had earned her reputation as an excellent physical therapist through a combination of what appeared to be genuine brilliance and a singular ability to browbeat and cajole her patients into pushing themselves. He had seen her work with a few of the other men from his company, and knew that if anyone else in the hospital deserved the title of ‘the General,’ it would be her.
But he wondered—“I’ve heard she’s effective, yes, but,” He paused, looking for the right words, although he knew that Sr. Merrill and the other nurses were inclined to humor their patients’ requests whenever possible. “I was wondering if I could work with someone else.”
“Oh?” She looked puzzled, but pulled out a pen to note the change. “Do you have a specific nurse in mind?”
Cassian smiled.
He was still smiling as he sat in Sr. Merrill’s office the following day listening to an incensed Nesta Archeron argue with her supervisor.
“No.” She said, her blue-gray eyes flashing flintily as she crossed her arms. “I’m not working with him.”
Sr. Merrill raised an eyebrow. “And why not? Do you have an objection to working with Lieutenant Davies?”
“Yes.”
When Nesta didn’t elaborate, Sr. Merrill gestured for her to continue. “Go on.”
Nesta tilted her head, and Cassian could tell she was calculating her response. “It’s not personal,” she began.
Cassian snorted. He knew that it absolutely was. Nesta Archeron was the one nurse at Somerville who couldn’t stand him. From the look on Sr. Merrill’s face, the older nurse knew that as well, although she did an admirable job trying to hide it.
“It’s not.” Nesta turned to face him for the first time since they entered the office a few minutes ago. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. He could feel the anger radiating off of her, burning cold and sharp and exhilarating. It had been over a month since Cassian had seen any combat, but watching her like this scratched the same itch, and he knew that he would do any number of unspeakable things to keep stoking that fire.
He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Then what might be the issue, Nurse Archeron?”
She glared at his use of her correct title for once, knowing he only did it to irritate her in front of her supervisor, then turned back to face Sr. Merrill with a barely audible huff.
“My reasons are professional. I am not a particularly skilled physical therapist, and the severity of Lieutenant Davies’ injuries suggests that he’ll need special attention. He should be working with Nurse Carynth or Nurse Madja.”
Sr. Merrill frowned at that. “You’ll be following a plan of care left by one of the doctors, so there’s no need for you to do anything terribly innovative. That’s not your role here.”
“I know you’ll take good care of me, Nurse Archeron,” Cassian added, doing his best to look sincere. And he was, mostly. Nesta may not have been the warmest nurse at Somerville, but she was a damn good one. Not that he’d ever tell her that.
She didn’t respond to his comment, but Cassian was familiar enough with her expressions after a month of making a study of her to know she wanted to roll her eyes, and he couldn’t help the grin that began to break over his face.
“But I know how you VAD girls are,” Sr. Merrill interrupted, forestalling any further argument between them with a dismissive wave of her hand. Her tone dripped with derision, and Cassian’s grin faded as he saw Nesta tense, her spine straightening.“If you’re truly unwilling, I’m sure Lieutenant Davies will accept another nurse for his therapy.” She paused. “But I will be making a note in your file, Nurse Archeron.”
Nesta’s lips tightened. Cassian grimaced slightly as he observed her wage a silent war with herself, feeling increasingly ill-at-ease with his provocation of this element of the hospital’s hierarchical drama.
“Well, Nurse Archeron?” Sr. Merrill asked.
Cassian watched Nesta collect herself. The changes were subtle–her spine remained straight, unbowed by the weight of the threat, but he saw the way she banked the fire burning in her eyes until all that seemed to remain was a cool, professional detachment. He hated it.
But he knew her answer.
“I’ll do it.”
“Excellent.” Sr. Merrill handed Nesta a folder that Cassian presumed was his plan of care. “Thank you for wasting everyone’s time.”
Nesta took the folder and stood abruptly, stalking out of the room.
“Lieutenant Davies,” Sr. Merrill addressed him, drawing his attention away from Nesta’s retreating form. “I understand if you’d like to switch nurses after that … display.” She looked distastefully toward the door. “I have always believed that you boys deserve better than being subjected to the whims of spoiled ladies unused to hard work.”
Cassian stood stiffly, his injured arm aching from tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and frowned down at Sr. Merrill. “I meant what I said. I trust Nurse Archeron to take care of me.” His tone was sharp, defensive.
Sr. Merrill sniffed. “Of course. See that I don’t hear any complaints from your commander if you remain on the injury register longer than you ought.”
“You won’t. M’am.” With a sharp nod of his head, Cassian turned to follow after Nesta, moving a damn sight slower than he would have preferred. His arm throbbed and his legs felt heavy and stiff, aggravatingly fatigued already.
Nesta had stopped by the entrance to the ward, presumably to wait for him, her gaze focused off into the distance rather than watching his progress.
Cassian didn’t rush—wouldn’t have, even if he could have moved more quickly—taking the time instead to study her. She still wore the detached professionalism she had donned during the meeting, but her eyes were tired, wearied after the confrontation with Merrill. He wanted the fire back.
And he knew how to get it. Quashing his still-lingering guilt, he asked, “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
She startled slightly, coming out of whatever reverie she had been caught in, and scowled up at him as he drew abreast of her. “I’m not in the mood for this right now.”
He smiled to hear a hint of spirit back in her voice. “I’ll take you in whatever mood I can get, Nes.”
She hummed, her gaze assessing and the set of her mouth unimpressed. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
With that, she pulled open the door to the ward and began walking deeper into the room, not stopping to see if Cassian was following after her.
He trailed along behind, noting that she passed the door that led outside onto the lawn where most of the other officers had been led by their respective nurses for therapy or recreation. The late summer day was inviting, after all—bright and sunny and warm after a span of rainy weeks.
Because of this, the ward was nearly empty, so Cassian called out to her, “I didn’t mean to cause any problems, you know.”
Her gait didn’t change, but he saw the tilt of her head as she considered his words. “That’s not an apology.”
“You’re right,” he conceded. “I didn’t know about Merrill. I’m sorry for having involved her. But,” he smiled, “I’m not sorry you’re assigned to me.”
“We’ll see,” she said, finally stopping and turning around to face him.
Nesta had led them to a room at the back of the ward. It was small and slightly dingy; he guessed that it had once been some kind of larder for the college before the war.
Cassian looked inside and then back at her, a question in his eyes.
She raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to go inside. “After you.”
“I thought officers got to go outside for their therapies.” He looked back longingly toward the door to the lawn, the late summer morning streaming through the window panes nearly irresistible after a month indoors.
“Not the ones assigned to me. Everything we need is right here in this room,” she said. She wasn’t quite smiling, but he could see a hint of malicious pleasure gleaming at the corners of her eyes.
Cassian forced himself to smile, hoping that his disappointment wasn’t evident. Well played, Sweetheart. He turned to the only weapon he had remaining because he damn sure wasn’t about to give her this victory easily. “It certainly is, sweetheart. And we’ll get to be so close,” he all but purred, trying to ruffle her feathers.
But she only rolled her eyes and began setting up the space according to whatever was detailed on his chart, dragging a chair and a few small weights to the center of the room.
He turned to cast a final glance back, wondering what he could do to change her mind. Surely she didn’t want to spend the day cooped up inside too. What would she want? Would she want him to beg for it? Would he?
He would. For her. And for the outdoors.
But then the sound of a throat clearing delicately brought him back to the cell of a larder, and he returned his attention to Nesta. Her eyes were on him, head tilted to the side like a predator studying its prey.
“Positive you don’t want to work with Nurse Carynth now?”
Cassian looked her over, his gaze catching on the blue-gray eyes that dared him to call her bluff, and he smiled, a real one this time. He would play her game. For now. “Positive. Do your worst, Nurse Nes.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A few notes on the historical elements of this chapter:
— The title of this fic comes from Robert Graves’ poem “Intercession in Late October.”
— The quote that opens this chapter is from Ethel M. Dell’s Bars of Iron, which was one of the best-selling books of 1916. Dell wrote hugely popular romances and was successful enough to support her family on the proceeds of her writing alone, although her work was often disparaged by critics and criticized for being too sexual.
— Cassian is loosely based on Robert Graves, a captain in the 3rd Battalion of the Royal Welch Fusiliers, a poet, and the author of Goodbye to All That, a 1929 memoir about his experiences in WWI. Nesta is loosely based on Vera Brittain, a VAD nurse and author of Testament of Youth, a 1933 memoir about her experiences as a nurse and her postwar turn toward pacifism.
— Both Robert Graves and Vera Britten were connected to Somerville College, although they were not there at the same time. Somerville was founded as a women’s college in 1879; it was requisitioned by the War Office to serve as a hospital during WWI. Vera Brittain had been reading English Literature when the war broke out, and she took a leave of absence to serve in the VAD, returning to complete her studies in History in 1919. Robert Graves, after being injured in July during the Battle of the Somme (July 1, 1916—November 18, 1916) was sent to Somerville to recover, and while there, had a brief romance with one of the nurses.
— The tensions between the VAD (Voluntary Aid Detachment) and professional nurses was a real concern during WWI, although it has been dramatized here. Most of the volunteers were middle and upper class women and lacked both the skills of professional nurses and (for some) the propensity for hard labor and discipline. These tensions gradually dissipated as the war went on.
— “Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit-Bag, and Smile, Smile, Smile” was a popular WWI marching song, first published in 1915. The words were written by George Henry Powell and were set to music by his brother, Felix.
— The notice “Officers are requested not to throw custard at the walls” was real; it was found in Maitland Hall after Somerville was converted back into a college.
#nessian#nessian fanfiction#acotargiftexchange2023#acotar gift exchange 2023#nesta archeron#cassian#historical au#wwi au
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The Humble Art of Gift Giving
SO Thrilled to participate in my first ACOTAR Secret Santa with @acotargiftexchange! I absolutely loved writing this piece for @danikamariewrites. Everyone check out her work if you haven't already, it's amazing!
I hope you enjoy this piece of Nessian Christmas Fluff!
Merry Christmas,
TTQ <3
Summary: Nesta loves giving gifts. Takes pride in it, actually. Especially at Christmas. She's had her list of potential options for her family ready for months now, and all that she needs to do now is actually buy them.
And therein lies the problem. What if they aren't good enough? What if they're cheesy or off the mark? Nesta's gifts are always perfect, and this year will be no exception.
Cassian knows this, and loves her for it.
But her biggest challenge this year isn't shopping for family. It's getting a gift for him. Especially when she makes it her personal mission to top the previous year's presence.
Luckily, all it takes is a quick trip to the local Christmas Market to give her the inspiration she needs.
Read Below or on A03!
Feyre.
Elain.
Cassian.
Gwyn.
Emerie.
Azriel.
Rhysand.
Lucien.
Amren
Morrigan??
Nesta scowled at the Excel sheet in front of her, at the blank squares that needed filling. It was December 16th, and there were still too many open-ended questions. Feyre was getting new paints, ones she specifically asked for, and were linked accordingly in her designated row, highlighted in a soft green to indicate she’d purchased them. Elain was receiving a set of earrings and a necklace made of pressed flowers, also highlighted in green.
And Cassian, well…
There were many, many links in his row. Options upon options. But nothing felt good enough.
Nothing felt good enough for Gwyn either, nor Emerie or Azriel. Links to Etsy shops, indie bookstores, and, regrettably, even Amazon filled the sheet, but they were all white, the category marked ‘Purchased?” painfully blank. And she hadn’t even begun to consider what she should purchase her extended family of sorts.
They always did this holiday together, making a big bash out of it, and every year since Feyre and Rhysand got married, and especially since she and Cassian had gotten engaged, she was presented with the same dilemma.
What did she get them? Would they even bother to get her anything?
Apparently, they were, or at least that’s what Feyre had claimed, when she asked. Her sister jumped on any chance to have a big happy family, and though it took significant effort and trial and error, she more or less had it. Nesta just didn’t know quite where she fit in.
“Sweetheart, your food is going to get cold.”
Nesta raised her eyes from her laptop, frowning at her fiancé, who was smiling knowingly at her from the other end of the couch, a bowl of pasta in his hand. She should have been working on the next book in her series, the manuscript open in a separate tab. Her last book may have only been out for about a week, but even still, deadlines were deadlines. If only Nesta had actually written anything in the past two hours.
“I gave you twenty more minutes, as promised.”
With a sigh, Nesta sat up straight, closing her laptop and evaluating his latest creation in front of her. Pesto, with fresh pine nuts and fusilli pasta. Gods, she didn’t deserve him when he made dishes like this. Especially when he had to pry her away from her writing. Or at least, what was supposed to be writing.
“How’s the Christmas list coming?”
Ah, he knew her too well.
“I just don’t know what to do,” She said, taking her first bite and practically melting at the taste in her mouth.
Cassian hummed knowingly, more than aware of how meticulously she planned Christmas presents. She collected links for months, bookmarking random Instagram ads or TikTok promos. But when it came to actually purchasing them, to deciding on what was good enough, she often lamented for weeks.
“We’re going to the market tomorrow, right?” He asked. “I’m sure we’ll turn a few more of those lines green.”
“I suppose,” Nesta said quietly, lifting a hand to push her glasses farther up her nose. A new development, one she still wasn’t quite happy about. But spending time reading in the dark had its consequences, apparently.
“We won’t leave until we’ve got at least the rest of the family knocked off.”
“Maybe it’s stupid, and I should just get them all gift cards or something.”
“You hate giving people gift cards, Nes.”
Nesta sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “But if they don’t even like me, then why would they want a gift from me?”
Cassian stretched out his leg so his foot could nudge her calf affectionately. “They like you, sweetheart. All that tension has been resolved, yeah? Mor was just telling me that she was excited to see you and hear about your latest book.”
Nesta frowned, stirring her fork around her bowl of pasta. It was true, the animosity that defined a lot of her relationship with Feyre’s found family was largely gone after months of working out past traumas or grief. Now, a year and a half later, Nesta was three books into a successful series, and happily engaged to the man beside her, who continued to look at her with nothing short of affection in his eyes, despite her anxiety.
“You’re right,” She replied. “I just…”
“Want it to be good enough?” Cassian supplied, scooting closer.
She nodded as his arm slid around her shoulders, pulling her comfortably against his chest.
“Your gifts are always so thoughtful, you know,” He replied. “Mor wears that charm bracelet you got her, with all of our initials, almost every day. I think the only competition you have is yourself, baby.”
Nesta huffed out a soft laugh, nestling into his shoulder. “I just want everything to be right.”
Cassian tipped her head up, kissing her softly. “I know. Tomorrow, Nes. We’ll get it all wrapped up, tomorrow.”
---
The Christmas Market was crowded, families and individuals alike scouring the stalls for the perfect, unique gift for their loved ones. Nesta watched them from her spot near the entrance, a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and a map in the other. In her pocket, her phone sat ready with her meticulous list of gift recipients.
“Alright,” Cassian said, looking over the page listing all the vendors. “Should we start from the right and snake our way through?”
Nesta nodded, her eyes scanning intently over the seemingly endless number of shops. There were at least twenty candlemakers, local artists, even a bonsai tree shop. The wheels in her head began turning, and she began making mental notes of who would be most interested in which items.
But before she could delve too deeply into her analysis, Cassian slid his arm around her waist, squeezing just enough that she looked up at him.
“Try not to look so serious, sweetheart. We’re supposed to be merry.”
Nesta huffed, but took a step forward towards the shops, holding out a hand for him to take. “I am perfectly merry.”
Cassian laughed, a bright and melodic sound that often was the only thing to pull her out of dreary moods. “Of course. The most festive woman I know.”
Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t help the smile that tugged on her lips. Pulling him forward, she entered the first aisle, taking in the first few shops. On careful steps, she approached a woodworking tent, eyeing the various cutting boards, cheese platters, and handcrafted pens. They were all beautiful, but nothing caught her interest or fulfilled the basic requirement of what she considered to be a perfectly tailored gift.
That is, until her eyes caught on the end of the table, at the line of puzzle boxes. She smiled, running her fingers over a medium sized one, assessing the various cogs and gears within.
Amren did mention needing something new to fidget with.
Pulling out her phone, Nesta filled in the tiny woman’s row, and flagged down the shop owner.
With one gift down, her confidence boosted, and she strode down the path towards the next few stalls with a small smile, eyes scanning over the various handmade jewelry, knitwear, and blown glass. Cassian wasn’t too far behind, though his attention was typically scattered in these kinds of environments. More often than not, she’d turn and find him gone entirely, entranced by a tent in a different aisle.
He grinned at her when she caught his eye, holding up a knitted flower hat, small and definitely intended for a pet. Immediately, her mind drifted to Azriel’s beloved twin black cats. And, more acutely, how horrified they’d be at the prospect of being dressed. Rolling her eyes, she smiled amusedly at him and shook her head before continuing on her way, knowing full well her fiancé would try and convince his brother to put them on anyway.
As she looked through each row, the time seemed to fly by, with her list slowly but surely getting smaller and smaller. As she reached the center of the market, she finally looked down at her phone to take stock of what she’d thus far acquired:
A set of blown glass flowerpots for Elain.
A cocktail smoker set for Azriel, paired with a bottle of locally distilled whiskey.
An old map of the city for Rhysand.
A set of handmade wooden ballpoint pens for Lucien.
Which left Gwyn, Emerie, Morrigan, and, of course, Cassian.
She hadn’t found anything remotely good enough for him. Everything was either something she’d already done, or found too tacky, or cliché. It had to be personal, thoughtful. Something no one else would think of.
The closer she got to reaching the end of the market, the more anxious she became about the prospect.
Luckily, all it took was a brilliant antique book stand to occupy her thoughts.
It was by far her favorite tent so far, with shelves lined with antique copies of some of her favorites, of bags made from the bindings of repurposed books, prints and posters, and everything a bookworm could dream of. Smiling at the shop owner as she entered, Nesta made her way to the collection of old novels, perusing the selections.
There was nothing particularly rare or beautiful, but as Nesta scanned her eyes over the titles, there were at least several options to satisfy Gwyn, who loved collecting old and special edition copies of her favorites. But, to her surprise, it wasn’t her lovely friend she had in mind when she found the final book in the row, larger than the others. Taking care to pull it free gently, she observed the title.
Landscape Painting Through the Ages: A Definitive Guide
Flipping through, she smiled at the depictions of various flora and fauna, of the various instructions on perspective and shading. It was old, perhaps 40 or 50 years, but it was perfect for her youngest sister, who was always looking for new references to paint from.
Even better, as she turned around to approach the counter, she spotted a gorgeous Pride and Prejudice handbag made of a re-purposed binding. Gwyn would be head over heels. The shopkeeper smiled broadly at her as she approached, and said, with a thick accent,
“That one’s been sitting on the shelf for ages. I’m glad she’s found a home.”
Nesta smiled at the kind man.
“It will be well loved.”
Arms full, she stepped back out into the path, scanning for Cassian who was, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be found. She’d thought he’d have been easier to spot, with his height. But it seemed everyone had their own tall significant other to drag around.
Retracing her steps, she scanned through the rows, tent after tent. Rounding the corner, she contemplated texting him, telling him to meet her at the entrance to save her the anxiety, but then she caught sight of his curls, the red scarf around his neck, and her tension eased.
He stood at what was unmistakably a jewelry stand, and Nesta quirked a brow as she approached. The old woman behind the counter spoke animatedly to him, and in his hands was a tiny box, wrapped simply with a satin bow. Her interest piqued, she tried to assess what it was, listening for any clues. But just as she approached his side, he spun on his heel, grinning down at her, the box disappearing into his pocket.
“There she is,” He said. “How are we doing, sweetheart?”
Nesta looked up at him quizzically, and the amusement in his eyes told her he already knew what she wanted to know. But he didn’t budge, even after several seconds of staring him down. So, she relented,
“Fairly well. Just Emerie and Morrigan left.”
And him, of course, but that was for her knowledge only.
“See, I told you this market would be a good one.”
“What about you?” Nesta asked, shifting her arms as he reached to take some of her bags from her.
“A master of gift giving never tells his secrets, Nes.”
Nesta scoffed, even as she looped her arm through his and they meandered down to the remaining tents.
“How many of those ridiculous cat hats did you buy?”
“They had powdered wigs. Do you know how amazing Shadow and Smokey will look in those?”
Nesta shook her head, unable to hide her grin. “Azriel will kill you.”
Cassian shrugged, unbothered by the prospect. “I just want one picture of my nephews. Then they can rip them up for all I care.”
“I still don’t know what to get Morrigan. I have no idea what she likes other than wine.”
Cassian tilted his head in contemplation. “There’s that distillery that makes social justice themed alcohol, their booth is back towards the front. That would be right up her alley.”
Nesta’s brows rose, the idea scratching her itch for something unique yet appropriate for the still superficial friendship they had.
“That’s perfect,” She said quietly, pulling out her phone, anxious to fill in her spreadsheet. “Let me just-”
“Take your time, baby. We’ve got plenty of it.”
Nesta stared down at the screen, satisfied by the solid block green rows. Just two left now, which seemed so much more manageable than this morning when they started. A weight lifted off her shoulders, and she let out a long, satisfied breath.
“Just Emerie then.”
Cassian hummed in acknowledgement, offering his arm to her again.
They made it to the front of the market, and Nesta turned to assess the stands again, deciding on where to look again for her friend. Slowly, she wandered to one of the first jewelry booths, assessing the various bracelets. It was intricate metalwork on gorgeous cuffs. Cuffs that would make incredible friendship bracelets.
“Your ring is gorgeous.”
Nesta lifted her eyes, meeting the soft brown ones of the girl behind the counter. Looking back down at her hand, she assessed her engagement ring, the ruby set among tiny white diamonds. Cassian was by no means a poor man, but still, she’d protested that she didn’t need something so exquisite. He disagreed.
“Thank you,” she replied. “My fiancé has good taste, or so I think.”
“Excellent taste,” the girl replied. “The gold band will match those cuffs nicely.”
A smile tugged on her lips as she ran her fingers over the metal. “I think you’re right,” she said. “I’ll take three.”
The girl grinned at her, moving away to wrap them. All the while, Nesta continued to try and come up with various ideas for Cassian. But still, nothing seemed like enough. He had an engraved watch, one she’d gotten him for their first Christmas, and he had plenty of other sentimental gifts, ones she’d all but planned out years in advance.
And now, it seemed like nothing could top it. Except perhaps his wedding band, which they’d just selected only a few weeks ago.
“Wait, are you Nesta Archeron?”
Nesta returned her attention to the girl, who had her bag of goods in her hands. Her brows were in her hairline, her mouth dropped open.
“I… Yes, I am.” Nesta replied, still unaccustomed to being recognized in public.
“I thought you looked familiar. You’re my favorite author!” The girl gushed, her entire face brightening. “Would you… Would you sign my book? I got the last copy on release day. I absolutely adore the love interest. How he accepts Aurelia even with all her quirks and dark days? To die for! Did you base him off your fiancé?”
Nesta couldn’t hide her smile this time, knowing full well that most of his description did indeed from the man waiting just a few feet behind her. And with that thought came a new idea, one that seemed so simple, yet hadn’t before crossed her mind.
“Perhaps. And I’d love to,” She replied, reaching out to accept the copy and a pen. It was still so surreal, even after all this time, to see her own work in person.
Quickly, she signed her name, wishing the girl a happy holiday season, before shutting the book and handing it back.
“Thank you so much!” The girl said, looking so unequivocally happy it made Nesta’s throat tight. It was remarkable that someone was this happy about her writing.
“And…I’m really glad you found your person. I hope one day I find mine.”
“You will,” Nesta said, accepting her jewelry with a larger smile. “I know it.”
---
Over the course of the next week, Nesta’s nerves about what to buy eased.
Only to be immediately replaced by her nerves about if each recipient would like the gifts she got them.
It was December 23, less than a day remaining before the entire family would gather for Christmas Eve dinner. Nesta was always nervous to meet with them all at once, it was a feeling that would likely never quite go away. But now, at least, it was more anticipatory. Would Elain and Feyre like their gifts? Would Mor and Amren? Rhysand and Azriel?
As she looked down at the wrapping paper in her lap, the boxes strewn out in front of her in the living room, she ran through her gift checklist one more time. A warm glow was cast over the living room, the Christmas tree lights twinkling. Cassian had lit a fire a few minutes ago, and the heat of it soothed something deep in her soul.
It would be fine. These were good gifts. She’d wrap them, and everything would be perfect.
“Nes, sweetheart, I found the rest of the scotch tape.”
Nesta lifted her eyes, smiling gratefully at Cassian as he padded back into the living room, settling down on the floor, his back against the couch. Nesta shifted down to join him, reaching for Azriel’s gifts to place into a box. With meticulous precision, she taped it up, wrapping it in navy-blue paper with silver stripes.
“You’re so good at this,” Cassian murmured. “You should make it a paid service.”
Huffing a laugh, Nesta reached for his finger, using it to hold a satin ribbon in place as she tied it off.
“I don’t think my skill is quite that impressive. Gwyn’s, perhaps. Or Elain’s. They'd probably make thousands.”
Cassian hummed, leaning forward to press a kiss to her head.
“Feeling better now that you got Emerie a slot in that coveted yoga class she’s been trying so desperately to get into?”
“Much,” Nesta replied. “Though, you know how nervous I’ll be tomorrow, anyway.”
His laugh was soft, and he shifted, his arm sliding behind her, pulling her close once she set Azriel’s wrapped package aside.
“Nervous about whether they will like your gifts or nervous about having attention on you while you open yours?”
Nesta swatted him lightheartedly, hating and loving how well he knew her.
“They’re good gifts, right?”
“Amazing gifts, sweetheart. You put Santa Claus out of business every year, and we all know it.”
“I do, don’t I?”
There was one thing, at least, she wasn’t nervous about anymore. And it was his own gift, which she’d finished only a few days ago. The idea had struck that moment at the jewelry stand, and every day since she’d worked to put it together.
He pressed a kiss to her temple, a proper smile on his face. “Does that make me Mrs. Claus?”
Nesta lifted her head, assessing with a raised brow. “I’m not sure. You can’t exactly bake cookies very well.”
Cassian reared back in mock offense. “That was one time, Nes. I could make a successful batch of cookies right this minute if you wished.”
Nesta shook her head, shifting to settle more comfortably against his chest. “I think I prefer you staying right here.”
His chest vibrated in contentment, almost a purr. His arm was a comforting weight around her, and not for the first time did she marvel at how her life had turned out. How she was spending her evenings with this man, in their house. It was all pretty perfect, if you had to ask her. And Nesta had been raised never to believe in perfect things.
“But yes, you know I love attention.” Nesta said with a sigh. “It’s always fine, I know. I’m not sure why I always get nervous.”
“You want everything to be perfect, my love. And it always is.”
Nesta hummed, though couldn’t say she was convinced. Still, she adored him for how soothed he could make her with just a few words.
“You know, I was thinking,” He added after a moment. “I know you don’t like all the attention on you when you get gifts. So, what if we start our own tradition of exchanging the night before? Just us?”
Nesta’s lips parted, and she sat up, assessing him. Her gift to him was wrapped delicately, sitting under the tree next to the one he’d placed for her, just hours ago.
“You want to?” She asked, something within her very much approving of the idea.
“Well, you’ve been very secretive about my gift. Maybe I can’t wait anymore.”
Nesta couldn’t help the smile that tugged on her lips.
“Alright.”
Before he could smile back at her, she was moving, pushing out of his arms, and crawling the few feet over to the base of the tree. Reaching, she grabbed her own package, turning back to face him.
“You sure? You like being the center of attention when there are gifts involved.”
Cassian smirked. “Because I always get the best ones from my lovely fiancé. I can brag about it all night tomorrow.”
Her cheeks heated, despite herself, but she smiled back, shifting back over to him. Holding out the package, she said,
“Well then, be my guest.”
“You’re excited,” Cassian replied, intrigue in his voice. Lifting the gift, he shook it lightly by his ear. “Should I be worried?”
“Just open it, you brute.”
His smirk softened into a gentle smile. With deft fingers, he untied the ribbon around the box and undid the paper along the taped points, not tearing. He truly knew her too well. She sat back on her haunches, watching closely, wondering only at the last minute if it was too stupid, too cheesy.
Cassian’s brows rose as he unveiled his gift, the title of her latest book staring up at him.
“This is… your book.”
Nesta bit her cheek, controlling her nerves. “Open it.”
His interest was clear in the focus that settled over his face, and he opened the cover. His eyes scanned over the note she’d penned there, an extra dedication to him and him only. Carefully, his fingers brushed over the various tabs throughout the pages.
“What is this?” He asked softly, opening up to the first one.
“We weren’t together when my first book came out,” Nesta explained. “And we were just getting started when the second came out. In this one, the main character, Aurelia, she-”
“Leaves the first love interest for the one she ends up with, I know,” He said softly, flipping to the next tab.
Nesta nodded, folding her hands in her lap. He had read the entire thing before publication, after all.
“This is…Sweetheart.”
Nesta shifted closer, evaluating which line he was looking at.
“Aurelia scowled as Ramin brushed a bead of sweat off his brow, the jagged mountain path looking nothing short of ominous. “I thought you said you liked the outdoors,” He said. “This is the outdoors.”
“I like sitting outdoors. Not hiking for thirteen miles.”
“We have to get up this hill, sweetheart. We need to get a better sense of our position.”
There, in the margins, was her script, slightly messy yet coherent to those who knew her best.
“October 4th, 2019. We went camping as a family, to Rhysand’s cabin. We got lost trying to find the campground’s maintenance buildings. We hiked six miles, because you wanted to get to higher ground, to ‘evaluate our position.’”
Each tab had a memory associated. Something Cassian did or said that Nesta had taken and put into this character, the manifestation of what love meant to her. From their petty arguments to the ways in which he understood her unlike anyone else. To how she knew it was him, from the moment they met, and no one else.
“Nesta, this is incredible.”
“I know it’s not much,” She said. “But I couldn’t figure out what to get you that you didn’t already have.”
“Sweetheart, it’s everything.”
Cassian looked up at her with genuine tears in his eyes, an expression that was almost reverence on his face. It filled Nesta with intense warmth, with love.
“You like it?” She asked, her voice a soft whisper.
He moved, quickly, closing the book with care and setting it aside, before he was crowding into her space, pressing kisses all over her face until he caught her lips, where he stayed for one, two, three, four more, until she was practically breathless.
Nesta’s hands rested against his own, which cupped her face, and laughed, just a little.
“I love it, Nesta,” He replied. “I love it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, sweetheart. I will treasure this always.”
She pressed her forehead against his, relishing the affection she felt from him.
“I wanted the world to have a piece of how wonderful you are,” She murmured. “But the specific reasons as to why can be just for us.”
“What did I tell you,” He replied, dipping her head to press another kiss to her lips. “The best gift giver.”
Pulling back, he stroked his thumb over her cheek affectionately before moving towards the tree.
“I’m afraid mine may look quite small in comparison.”
Nesta shook her head, watching as he pulled the tiny box from its place atop the tree skirt. The man could bring her a rock, and she'd likely cherish it until she died.
“You know I don’t need anything special.”
“So you tell me every time I get you a gift, baby.”
He approached her again, settling down beside her and placing the box in her hands. It was the one she’d seen briefly at the Market, the one he’d hidden from her.
“I know you got me something that’s not sentimental, and I got you a gift like that too, for tomorrow night. But these, I think, can stay between us.”
Nesta couldn’t shake the smile from her face as she nodded her agreement. For several seconds, she stared down at the box, the gold foil of it glinting in the light. Cassian nudged her with his nose, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“Open it, Nes.”
“Be patient.”
But even as she said the words, she was pulling the ribbon free and lifting the cover off. Her eyes roved over the necklace that sat nestled on a pillow of velvet, and she went still, her throat tightening.
“Cass…”
It was a simple pendant, one that held two stones – their birthstones, to be exact, bound together by metal that had been shaped to look like a single golden thread. Lifting it out of the box, she assessed it closer, lips parted in shock.
“Turn it over.”
She obeyed him, surprised at the small engraving that had somehow fit on the back. Their initials were there, with a year. Next year, the one they were getting married in.
“It’s beautiful,” She said quietly, running her finger over the gems. "Where did you-?"
“I had it custom made from the woman you saw me speaking to. I was picking it up when you so sneakily almost caught me.”
Huffing a laugh, she smiled down at the piece. Simple, yet elegant. Exactly her taste.
“Put it on me?” She asked.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
His hands were soft. They always were, when he touched her. In one gentle movement, he swept her hair over her shoulder, and in the next, he brought the necklace around her throat, the pendant resting perfectly between her collarbones. He clasped it easily, letting his hands slide over her shoulders, his head dipping to kiss her neck.
“I knew it would look beautiful on you,” He murmured. “But I still wasn’t prepared. You’re so stunning, Nes.”
Nesta leaned back into his arms, which wrapped tightly around her, the warm spices and cedar she associated with his scent enveloping her senses. Tilting her head up, she caught his jaw in a kiss, grinning as he dipped his chin to meet her lips properly.
“Merry Christmas,” She whispered, lacing their fingers together where they rested on her stomach. "I love you."
Cassian all but melted at the words, squeezing her tight and settling back against the couch, just holding her.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart. I love you too.”
---
The next evening, when Nesta and Cassian arrived at Feyre and Rhysand’s house to celebrate, arms full of gifts, her family’s eyes caught immediately on the gold pendant around her neck. Mor and Feyre pestered Cassian for hours, wanting to know where, exactly, it had come from. Azriel had kissed her on the cheek, complimenting her politely as he always did, warm and protective of her as he was. Elain gushed, and Amren smiled approvingly, always appreciative of fine taste. Even Rhysand complimented it, clapping Cassian on the shoulder.
It was a soothing experience, a welcoming one. It filled her with the confidence she didn’t know she needed, to say without hesitation that she belonged here.
And as the family settled around the tree, anxious to pass out gifts, any lingering anxieties faded away to nothing. Nesta couldn’t deny it to herself any longer, nor to those around her. In that moment, she felt entirely complete, entirely content. Entirely sure that this was the life she was meant to live, here with these people.
Just as Cassian had promised, everything was entirely perfect.
--- End ---
#nessian#acotar fanfiction#acotar#nesta archeron#cassian#archive of our own#acotargiftexchange2023#acotarsecretsanta2023#nesta x cassian#Modern AU#Writer!Nesta
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Still thinking about participating in the ACOTAR gift exchange? Now's your last few days to sign up! The form will no longer be accepting entries after September 24th!
SIGN UP HERE!
Before signing up, PLEASE make sure you are familiar with the rules before you commit to the event.
As a reminder, this event is a ship neutral, acotar-only event. As long as you like acotar and want to make acotar content for someone else to enjoy, you can be paired with someone! The form lists the most popular pairings within AO3, but if you prefer rare pairs, let us know and we'll do our best to pair you up with someone! If you have any questions regarding this, check out our masterlist from last year to see what people created!
Have fun! We can't wait to get started!
#acotargiftexchange2023#acotar#Feyre Archeron#Rhysand#Nesta Archeron#Cassian#Elain Archeron#Azriel#Lucien Vanserra#Eris Vanserra#Morrigan#Emerie#Gwyn Berdara#Tamlin#Vassa#Jurian#Amren#Varian#Tarquin#Helion#Beron#Lady of Autumn#Kallias#Viviane
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ACOTAR SECRET SANTA 2023
Happy holidays @rosanna-writer !!! I had the pleasure to be your Secret Santa this year, surprise! This fic had been through a lot of changes and ideas, so many that it has become a multi chapter one, can you believe it?? I think it will have only one chapter more (I have plans for it), so I hope you will accept and enjoy this humble gift 🎅
Ps: Thanks a lot to @acotargiftexchange for taking care of all the organisation behind this AWESOME event, you all are amazing!
Words: 1065; Warnings: a lil angst; Canon divergence
Snowy Mountains
A Feysand winter story
Chapter One: the Suriel's profecy
Rhysand called the meeting after a month of research that brought to no conclusions. “Did you find anything on the Ghost?” he asked warily.
“My spies found nothing in Dawn,” Azriel informed them briefly. For the spies to not return with answers after a mission, it was peculiar indeed. After all, this was a peculiar situation. Dawn had one of the very few High Lords who tolerated Rhysand, but he wouldn’t put past them hiding information.
“Nor did the Illyrians patrolling our mountains,” Cassian added crossing his arms, lost in his thoughts.
It had been a while since none of them could bring him answers and the situation weighted more on his brothers than on Rhys. He sighed. Even Amren had almost no idea about who that Ghost was. She merely knew that it was a legendary creature that showed up on icy nights in snowy mountains. No one showed up again after starting to look for it. Morrigan was yet to return from visiting Vivienne, but until then...
“Let’s talk this over dinner. Morrigan sent word that she would arrive later today.”
His brothers nodded and left the war room of the House of Wind. Looking at the grey sky after them, Rhys inhaled deeply the fresh winter air that called for him, challenging him to fly fast, hard, for as long as his body could support, but he wouldn't. After Amarantha, his family would chain him to the ground for giving an enemy the opportunity to find him alone. So, he turned back towards the paperwork waiting on the desk. They had lots of research to do.
Morrigan was still dressed in full Winter Court attire when she reached the House of Wind right on time to have dinner. Her wavy, light grey hair that almost looked white, flowed down her shoulders from a dark crown on her brow. A queen, if the humans had to give her a title. A High Lady, if he would give her a title. Not that she would ever try to get the title, nor she had any interest in ruling over some of their people. Her eyes sparked as she reached them, walking around the table to lean down and kiss his cheek.
“Hey everyone! Did you find any ghosts, lately?” she joked pouring herself a glass of onyx wine.
They all tensed as Amren slowly looked towards her and whispered “Watch your tone, Morrigan. Your cousin’s life is on the line, here. Again.”
Silence. He felt his smile fall for a moment, the panic rising as high as a wave in a storm. He wasn’t down there anymore. He was with his family. They were safe. He kept eating, just to focus on something and stop thinking about those years. About... her. Morrigan simply sipped her wine.
“How was the trip?” Azriel asked, and Mor throw herself in a long description of her arrival, how Vivienne and Kallias were and what they were doing in their court. About food and fashion and traditions.
It looked to Rhys that, after Amarantha, every threat to his life brought his family on the verge of collapse. It took a mere month to bring them to these terms. Mother above, it had been a month already. A month since the High Lord of Day, Helion, showed up at their borders in the middle of the night.
Apparently, he caught a Suriel. Apparently, while talking with it, the Suriel let slip that there was a ghost: the Ghost will change the High Lord of Night’s destiny after a fierce battle.
Rhysand turned his eyes from the half-forgotten dish in front of him. “What?”
Cassian cleared his throat “Mor was saying that she has found some clues on the Ghost in Winter”.
Rhys’s eyebrows shot up.
“Yes, well, Vivi did” she confessed, her gaze locked in his. “She told me that the Ghost is a story told among the soldiers in their army. They tell about a young lady of fair hair that appear during the harshest winter nights and lure you away. Many soldiers fell for her calling, never to be found again in their tents”. Mor emptied her glass and stood up. Azriel and Cassian stood up at the same time. “Thanks for the reminder, Amren,” she flatly said winnowing away.
Hours later, Mor was dancing with two faeries at Rita’s, when Rhys reached for her. “Care for some chocolate?” was all he said to Mor mind-to-mind. So, she winnowed away from the light-and-dark light games of the bar, right to the city house.
Even without his daemati abilities, his cousin’s thoughts weren’t such a mystery to him. He knew what that look meant. She pitied him. But it didn’t last long.
“Didn’t know that I would find you like this, dear cousin” she laughed.
Indeed, he wore just the bottom of a winter-themed pajama lounging on a couch near a roaring fire. A couple of hot chocolates lying on the coffee table across the couch. Rhysand laughed.
“Believe me, you should try dressing like this too. Everyone would love it at Rita’s.”
“I think I’ll leave you the opportunity to start a new trend.”
She sat with him pulling her legs under her and resting her head on his shoulder. His head leaned against hers a heartbeat later. “What are you thinking about, Rhys?” she asked lowering her voice.
He didn’t know. He was thinking about the threat, yes. But even more about how all of them almost killed that bitch that Amarantha was. Almost, because her cronies flew her all the way to Hybern while she screamed for revenge.
“I’m thinking about how we see the same colors all the time.” He started following the wavy length of his cousin’s hair with a finger, only to stop under her chin. A sigh.
“Ohh, so you feel lonely? Maybe Cass and Az could help you!”
A low laugh.
“I don’t know. It’s just that… I feel so tired, Mor. Tired of war, of threats, of death. And yes, I’m tired of loneliness too.”
“Your soulmate will show up, Rhys. And you will know once again that the world is full of laughs, happiness, life. Of colors, other that black, white and grey.” She clinked her almost empty hot chocolate mug against his. “Our dreams will come true.”
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Ancient Tales Retold Masterlist
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Summary: An irksome trip to the Summer Court on matters of business and assistance against a threat at sea takes an interesting turn when Rhys discovers the solution to Nostrus' problem no longer lies with his army, but a female sacrifice, bound at high tide in hope of appeasing the beast terrorizing Nostrus' shores. He certainly never predicted the rescue mission would result in an accepted mating bond.
*Inspired by the myth of Perseus and Andromeda*
AN: Chapter four of my acotar gift exchange fic for @eat0crow
CW: Fluffy Smut
Chapter 4: Caught Up in Your Spell
Massive, yet cozy. It was the only way Feyre could think to describe the large cabin Rhys had winnowed them to after one of the shopkeepers in the Rainbow had gotten too close for his taste. As a courtesy, they had tried to suppress things until after the formal ceremony was behind them, but there was no sense arguing reality.
Pathetic as it may seem to some, the four days of push and pull had been exhausting and Feyre was probably feeling more guilt than she should regarding the bloody nose Rhys had given Cassian when he’d made his flirtatious nature known the night prior. She could feel her mate watching her as she took in the space around them, absorbing the modest kitchen, living space, and hall exposed. Beyond the walkway would be two bedrooms, she’d been told. She didn’t imagine they’d be spending much time outside of whichever they landed themselves in.
“I apologize, Feyre. That was impulsive of me to—” She cut him off with a heated kiss, every inch of her aching to feel him against her, skin on skin with nothing in between, for the foreseeable future. “Feyre, fuck.”
“No more apologies. No more gentleness. I want this and I want you. Now. You asked me before what I was willing to claim.” He took in a ragged breath, his eyes locked on hers as she threaded her fingers into his dark hair. “I claim every single part of my future. I claim you, Rhys. For the rest of my life, long or short as it may be, I claim you. Now take me to bed.”
“As you wish, darling.”
Rhys hauled her up into his arms, groaning as her nails bit into his scalp. Pleased by her mate’s clear need for her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, scraping her teeth over the sensitive skin of his neck she’d discovered not-so-accidentally the night before.
“Needy little thing,” he growled, not that he seemed to be in a much better state of mind at the moment. Seconds later her back hit the mattress in the nearest bedroom. “That’s alright. I know just what to do with that.”
She swallowed hard, watching him peel out of his shirt before joining her on the massive bed. “Rhys.”
“My pretty little mate. Look at you.” He planted a kiss on her throat, feather-soft, and meant to leave her burning for more. Frustrated with his teasing, she pushed up on her elbows, growling his name. Only to be given a sound of warning. His hand slid around the front of her neck, the softest touch carrying every bit of longing that was growing between them. “Patience will give you far more than pressure, my love. Now, be good for me.”
And though part of her wanted to hate the gentle order, she couldn’t ignore the other bit of herself that wanted to surrender to it. Rhys pulled her upright just long enough to strip her top before leading her back down onto the nest of pillows, his hips resting between her thighs to keep her legs parted.
Exposed to his whim and leisure might be more accurate.
While his mouth and left hand worked to tease her upper body, his right was keeping a steady rhythm over her clit, working the sensitive flesh through the fabric of her pants. “Stop teasing,” she growled, teeth clenched as her irritation grew. “Rhys, I mean it.”
“You and I were born to wear a mask. I am not afraid to let mine fall for you, Feyre. I am not afraid to give in to the madness of this bond. Let it fall,” he urged, finally removing her pants. “Let me see your truth, Feyre. Let me see all of you.”
She would. For him she would. “I need all of you, too, Rhys.” Raising her hands, she gently stroked the smooth skin between his shoulder blades, a silent request.
She’d been cautious, asking Avyanna why she was the only sibling with wings. The girl hadn’t hesitated to explain their peculiar ability to summon and hide their wings as half-breeds, and the discrimination they and their mother would sometimes see in the company of High Fae. It was why Rhys only exposed himself in Windhaven and Velaris.
Since they’d only had a few days together, Feyre had yet to see him in his full glory and her curiosity was undeniable. The only question now was if Rhys was willing to let her near them during such an intimate moment.
“You, Feyre, always.” Her eyes widened as he summoned them, letting them open wide to display his full wingspan before tucking in to better suit their position. Awed at sight, her hand drifted up once again, pausing only when she recalled the disrespect it could be taken as. “It’s okay.”
Starting at the top bone, Feyre traced down the hard edges, marveling at the contrast of the bone and membrane with an artist's scrutiny, its silky texture only marred by the peppering of scars. “From the war?” she whispered.
“It certainly left its mark.” Feyre wasn’t so certain the tension in his voice had to do with dark memories as much as the physical torture she was inflicting. Delighted as he seemed to tease her earlier, sexual tension was still crackling between them, waiting for them both to yield to their instincts. She couldn’t help but smirk, earning a soft growl. “Wicked thing.”
She squealed as he pulled away, yanking her down to the foot of the bed. “We’ll play later.”
The first stroke of that silver tongue had her burning from the inside out, squirming beneath the weight of his forearm that now pinned her hips to the bed. “Rhys!” Chuckling, he gave another flick of his tongue before shifting to close his lips over her clit, fingers sliding home to curl inside her, feeling every bit as exhilarating as she’d been imagining the past three days.
“I could spend the rest of my life on my knees and die a very happy male.” She whimpered, losing herself in the slow curl of his fingers and the drag of his tongue. Bared to him, head thrown back, quivering from top to toe, she had to be a sight. “Gorgeous,” he purred into her mind. “Come for me, Feyre.”
The scrape of his teeth sent her over the edge, gripping his hair tightly as she shattered. “My Feyre. Exquisite.”
“Cauldron, Rhys.”
He laughed again, his amusement cut off by her kiss as she raised herself to a sitting position and claimed his mouth. The blend of his taste and her own was heady, feeding the feral need building inside her once again. Breaking away, she sucked at the skin of his neck, nibbling along his collarbone until he was distracted enough she could shift his weight, pushing him down on his back.
Though he instinctively disagreed with the pressure against his wings, he seemed willing enough to let her have this moment. That was until she tried to reciprocate the service he’d done for her. “No,” he barked. “My patience is wearing thin enough. While I’m dying to feel your mouth on me, all I can think about is being buried inside of you.” He gripped her hips tight, repositioning her. “You're going to ride me, Feyre. Show me how you claim what’s yours.”
She didn’t falter for long. Shifting over him, Feyre braced her hands on his shoulders, making sure she held his gaze as she sank down on his cock. That first stretch was bliss, strengthening the bond as they were joined in every way. It wouldn’t take much to send her over the edge again, this time taking him with her. But she made herself slow her movements, basking in the heated bliss of their connection as he claimed her mouth again.
“Gods, if I could spend eternity like this…” He shifted beneath her, urging her to move faster and give them both what they needed. “Feyre. Fuck.”
Buried deep inside of her, he came, triggering her release for the second time. When she finally came back to herself, she was curled up on top of him, head pillowed on his broad chest as he stroked her hair the same way he’d done each morning and night since they’d met.
A moment of peace before the urge to resume overtook them again. “I’ve never felt so out of control,” Feyre murmured.
“Me neither.”
Biting her lip, she smirked, nipping at his collarbone once more. “I can’t say I mind what it leads to, though.”
He gave her a full laugh, affection bleeding through it and warming every part of her. “I can’t either.”
~~~~~
Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer
#feysand#acotar gift exchange#acotargiftexchange2023#acotar#feyre archeron#feyre x rhysand#rhysand#greek mythology au#perseus and andromeda
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It's me! Hi! I'm your secret santa it's me!
Hi santa!!! So excited to to meet you!! Is this the part where I sit in your lap? 👀
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Ave! How was your week? (and one day I think. I’m a day late for a ‘suggested weekly check in’, don’t tell the mods!)(or do)(crimes on the down low over here)
Anyway. I hope you had a lovely week 💛 and are enjoying the autumn!!
I was wondering if there is a particular Christmas/Seasonal tradition or theme you’d like me to incorporate? Random or favorite things like gingerbread or Winter Wonderland or going caroling or what have you!
✨🦌✨
Hey Santa! Check on me wherever you want, it's fine 😌.
My week has been good, I went to Poland for a little trip and I discovered a lot of new things! I'm enjoying autumn even if it's fucking raining and guess who has a flight to take today? Yes, me.
Speaking of Christmas traditions, I adore all the Christmas shenanigans but my favorite is when people start to decorate their Christmas Tree and,,,,, Christmas dinners I guess??? Where you're with people that you love and everyone is cozy and satisfied with the food etc 😂❤️.
I'm not into the Christmas mood already but probably we'll talk about it again!
I can't wait to hear from you again Santa, have a nice day ✨💫🥰
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❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️
Hello!
Is there anything you absolutely love or don’t like to read in a fic? Tropes, plot, theme, vibe, etc?
I am so excited to get started on this fic!! 😆
Hello my lovely Santa 😌 tropes I LOVE to read in a fic (just gonna name a few in case you want some prompts to get the creative juices flowing but tbh I'll read anything if the vibes are right):
One Bed: this is just SUCH a classic, you know? And I think it really hits that sweet spot of like reluctant, tentative affection and yearning that makes me gasp for breath
Forced proximity: similar to one bed but if it's for an extended time?!? God I'm going crazy. Also bonus points if there's imminent peril, or the threat of a secret relationship being found out
Hurt/comfort: oh no your named enemy is suddenly the only one who can save you? Drat 😏 or, alternatively, "you fucking idiot you brought yourself to the brink of death yet again? Ugh come here I guess" LOVE THAT
And in terms of vibes, I really love evocative settings, character banter, and physical tension (not necessarily smut, but just like the suggestion of yearning, y'know?)
If I had to name things I dislike reading, I would say my only hard "no" is I don't like to read about pregnancy, unless it's in specific circumstances. And I don't really actively seek out fluff, but if it's part of a happy ending I absolutely do sob into my eggs, tyvm.
This was a very long and convoluted answer but I hope it was somewhat helpful! And also please don't let anything I say deter you from your creative vision LOL my absolute favorite fic to read is one the author is passionate about 🥰 can't wait to talk to you soon, santa! 💚❤️
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You got it! All the ideas were things I'm happy to write, just wanted to make sure I was on the right track before diving in :)
-🦇🎅🧚♀️
Yay I’m glad!! Thank you so much for checking in <3 <3 Hope you have a lovely week
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Hey there! Someone told me that I'm your Secret Santa 😌 I can't wait to create something for you 🌸!!!
oh gosh hi! <3
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If you've been considering participating in the ACOTAR gift exchange, this is your last chance to join! The form will no longer be accepting entries after September 24th
SIGN UP HERE!
Before signing up, PLEASE make sure you are familiar with the rules before you commit to the event.
As a reminder, this is a ship neutral, acotar-only event. As long as you like acotar and want to make acotar content for someone else to enjoy, you can be paired with someone! The form lists the most popular pairings within AO3, but if you prefer rare pairs, let us know and we'll do our best to pair you up with someone! If you have any questions regarding this, check out our masterlist from last year to see what people created!
Have fun! We can't wait to get started!
#acotargiftexchange2023#Feyre Archeron#Elain Archeron#Nesta Archeron#Rhysand#Cassian#Azriel#Lucien Vanserra#Eris Vanserra#Tamlin#Tarquin#Helion#Kallias#Vivane#Jurian#Vassa#Gwyn Berdara#Emerie of Illyria#acotar
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Happy December!! I hope you're doing well and that you got the chance to bake lots of cookies, and if you haven't that you have plans to do so soon! I absolutely loved hearing about that tradition and hearing all of your fun nicknames for if you were in the ACOTAR universe 😂
As the day to exchange gifts approaches, I wanted to drop a few tiny, spoiler-free hints for you. Stocking stuffers, if you will. The first of which is a moodboard (absent of title, so it gives nothing away!) Here is the link: https://imgur.com/RaLJUp5
A few more stocking stuffers to come, in separate messages so you can take your time replying to them! I'm so excited to give you the full gift, it's really coming together and I'm enjoying writing it a lot so I hope you'll like it too!
Talk to you soon,
Santa 🌟
Stocking Stuffers??? For me??? 🥹
I ADORE everything about this moodboard and I am SO excited to read the fic that inspired it 👀 the gwynriel vibes are immaculate and I am already obsessed with it (and you 💋)
EVERYONE LOOK AT IT
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Read on Ao3
Ancient Myths Retold Masterlist
AN: I gave you breadcrumbs during Feysand's first night together, but here's the real Odyssey!Elucien set up. I can't promise you when the next chapter will be out, because I've run out of prewritten chapters, but I really felt like dropping something today. The fic will be finished before mid-July. That I can promise.
Anywhosville, enjoy!
~~~~~
Feyre
Ten days. It took ten days for the fire and frenzy of the mating bond to mellow enough that Feyre and Rhys were willing to consider rejoining society. While she was disappointed to leave the bubble of bliss they’d created for themselves, there was no escaping reality, and Rhys could only be absent from his duties for so long before people started calling it insubordination.
“You should know, we aren’t going back to Velaris yet,” he said.
“Where are we going first?” He grimaced. “Rhys?”
“Your parents heard you were in the Night Court and have been persistent in their desire for an audience with my father to demand your return to Summer, going as far as to bring your engagement to the public eye. I’m sure you realize that until you publicly claim me as your mate, you will be treated as your father’s property. The bond’s authenticity will be obvious upon arrival, so don’t worry about that.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I knew I’d have to face the fallout soon. I just didn’t think I’d be dealing with the whiplash of going from this little bubble of happiness to listening to my parents' manipulations.”
“Or perhaps you’re going from our little bubble of happiness to a place where you finally get to stand up and tell them where they can shove their way of thinking.” He was tender in cupping her cheek and she leaned into his touch. "You are not their puppet, remember? You are free.” He gave her a wolfish grin, slipping her mating band onto her left hand. “And once you’ve established that…”
She slowly took the envelope he extended, unfolding the scrap of paper inside to assess the loopy handwriting there.
Rhysand,
I appreciate you reaching out, as it’s been a considerable time since we’ve seen one another. Congratulations on your mating, first and foremost. You can tell your new love I’d be more than happy to host any family of Elain’s and when you’ve found yourself in a more agreeable state—
She didn’t need to read the rest to know what the offering was. “You wrote to Day.”
Kissing her knuckles, he smiled. “I made you a promise, darling. And when I promise something, I follow through.”
Throwing herself in his arms, she kissed him. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, my love.”
She fluttered her eyes, one hand dropping to his belt. “Before we go…”
He dipped his head, his slight grin falling against her ear. “What kind of male would I be to refuse my eager little mate?”
~~~~~
Rhysand
“You must realize, High Lord, our daughter has no place here. She belongs to the Prince of Spring.”
“I belong to no one.”
His mate looked positively delicious that evening, her soft curves wrapped in a backless gown of midnight silk, a slit up the right side exposing one creamy leg. There wasn’t a single male in the room who didn’t do a double take at the sight of her—including his brother, posted in his usual position beside the High Lord’s throne, the loyal spymaster. She was nothing short of regal as she strode through the Court of Nightmares. And all his. “Mother. Father. You can go home now. Your reason for being here holds no power.”
“Darling, don’t be foolish. You don’t know what you're talking about.”
Head high, shoulders back, she assessed them with cold indifference, letting the condescension roll right off of her. Good girl. “What’s foolish is that you’ve stepped out of your territory to make demands you have no right to make.”
“That’s enough, Feyre,” her father ordered. “Until you’re married you are my responsibility.”
“Try to marry me off to Tamlin,” Feyre dared them. “Try to force me back to Spring. Try to use me for your gain, Father, and see what happens. With a bond so fresh, my mate lacks the patience and grace I’ve shown you thus far.” Cold satisfaction filled him as he watched the pair of intruders go from irritation to shock.
“You little fool. Do you know what you’ve cost us?”
Her mother’s hand rose up, pausing as a deadly snarl ripped through the air. His own, he realized. Once again his mate was under threat, this time with a raw bond forged and fed. The dark power under his skin yawned awake, making itself known. He’d pay for the display later, he knew, but his current priorities had nothing to do with his father’s fondness. “Strike my mate and I’ll mist you on the spot, Lady Archeron.” White as a sheet, Feyre’s parents exchanged a glance. “Step away from her.” They obeyed, eyes glued to the marble as he prowled closer. His own father merely sipped his wine, looking on with open amusement, despite the power display Rhys had just impulsively flaunted.
“You will go home. You will reach out to the Spring High Lord and tell him whatever deal you struck is void. You will tell him that your daughter is mated to the Heir of the Night Court and any attempt to go through with this pathetic arrangement will be taken as and dealt with as a threat to the court and crown.”
“Please, understand—”
“You were told to leave,” Feyre interrupted them, sweeping an arm towards the chamber’s nearest exit route. “Now leave.” The moment they winnowed, Feyre turned on his father. “If that’s all, High-Lord.”
Rhys held back a curse as his father’s eyes widened marginally, the only sign of surprise he was willing to show. “Quite a tongue on you, Feyre.”
“Pardon my abrasiveness. I am eager to see my sister.” She gave an almost sarcastic curtsy that left the court tittering. “If that is all, High Lord, I request my leave.”
Straightening on his throne, he assessed her, withholding the dismissal she desired. How many times had he pulled that same card on Rhys when he was a boy—tried to force him to inferiority? “It is very fortunate that you belong to my son. Remember that, Feyre, the next time you open your mouth in the presence of a superior.”
“Enough, Father.” Feyre didn’t argue as he shifted in front of her. “She meant no disrespect,” he placated, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.
“Playing with fire, darling.”
“Am I? Good.”
“I’m sure she didn’t. Enjoy your time in Day. Try not to do anything foolish.” Like turning a court monument to rubble, went unspoken. “You’ll be returning to the camps after this visit of yours is through.”
“Yes, Father.”
Ignoring the continuous whisperings of the court, Rhys winnowed them from Hewn City back to Velaris where they could change into something a little less formal and pack what they needed for the trip to Day. “You were brilliant. He’s an asshole and always will be. Don’t let it bother you.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything regarding her parents or his father’s degrading remarks as they gathered their things. “The camps he mentioned. It’s the same place you were telling me about when you told me about the wing-clipping?”
“Windhaven, yes.”
“You don’t like going there.”
“They know, despite my father’s actions when my mother was meant to be clipped, he will not bother changing their ways. They also know I do not share his beliefs, but can do nothing significant before I become High Lord. The only respect they hold for me is as a Carynthian—an elite warrior. I fought in their units during the war when my father assigned me there. They obeyed my orders as their commander, but it was not a brotherhood. When my unit was captured…”
Horror flashed in her eyes and guilt squeezed tight in his chest. “It’s a time long since past.”
“Ten years is not so long to an immortal, Rhys.”
He sighed, bending to kiss her cheek. “You’re lovely for trying to help, but I don’t care to discuss it. Come. The sooner we leave, the more time you will have with your sister.” Her frown told him she knew he was manipulating the conversation, but she was also too considerate to push him to talk about something that made him uncomfortable. “All set?”
“Yes. Let’s go.”
~~~~~
Feyre
She surrendered to the now-familiar pull of Rhys’ magic, keeping her eyes shut until her stomach stopped spinning. The first sound to greet her was the screech of a bird, then a soft sob. “Feyre!” As soon as she’d stepped out of Rhys’ arms she was wrapped up in her sister’s, tears soaking through the thin fabric of her dress. “You’re okay. You’re okay, aren’t you? I mean, the last thing I heard, you were set to be fed to that beast and then it was killed and you were missing. When Helion told me you were coming to visit I couldn’t believe it.”
“Here’s the proof,” she murmured softly. “I’m fine, Elain. What about you?”
Her sister was silent for a moment. Long enough that she felt justified in checking Elain for any signs of mistreatment. Beyond looking a bit tired, nothing seemed wrong with her sister. She was as stunning as ever. A healthy weight too. More than that, she seemed to fit in here. From the unrestrictive clothes to the circlet on her arm—the equivalent of a wedding band, Feyre had heard—to her very skin, flushed by the sun and complimenting the soft pink gown she wore, the panels fluttering in the breeze. She belonged here.
Still, for all her apparent comfort, Elain hesitated to speak freely. Something told Feyre that had more to do with the company she brought than anything.
“Rhys…”
“I’m going to go tell Helion we’ve just arrived. I’ll find you again soon, Feyre.” Kissing her softly, Rhys pulled away, heading towards the entrance where Helion waited to give them the privacy her sister desired.
At last, Elain spoke again. “Raising a child alone is more difficult than I expected,” she confessed. “I miss Lucien terribly. And these suitors… He isn’t dead, Feyre. I would know if my mate was dead, wouldn’t I?”
Feyre paused, an unfamiliar pity building in her chest as she hugged her sister again. “I’d imagine so.”
If Lucien was her mate, that changed everything. But if infidelity wasn’t what kept him from home, what could be? He was smart. Cunning even. And he knew how to sail. He’d been away from Day for years and hadn’t once winnowed or sailed home to see his wife and son, a school-age boy now who would need his father’s guidance.
“If you know Lucien is alive, why does Helion not send a ship out to search the best routes to and from The Continent? Why does he allow the suitors into his home? Why are they permitted to pursue you?”
“They bear no ill will, yet. And there are some who pose offers for Day one might consider, if my mate were truly dead. As for the ships? Several have gone out over the past few years and none have returned. Either destroyed in a storm or losing their course, we can’t say.”
“No one takes to the sea without learning the constellations. They’re the truest map.”
“Perhaps not. Perhaps they have shifted.”
“The stars stay true to their seasons. Elain—”
“What else would keep my mate from me?! From raising his son?! Ten years without a father and I can still offer him nothing more than my own fragile hope, Feyre.” Her voice broke. “I told myself when I was a girl that I wouldn’t rely on a male. That I would endure an arrangement if I must. Look at what I’ve become. Desperate, unmoored, and the wolves can scent it on me. They think I will break under their promises and pressure. That I will stray.”
The last word was hardly a whisper. A taboo thought to a mated female that she now recognized on her own soul-deep level. She couldn’t imagine her sister’s agony though. If Rhys had been captured and killed during the war or lost to a storm, she would never know it beyond word of the grapevine. She would never have grieved him. But Elain was mated before the princes were called to the front lines.
This grief was one she may never know and could not do anything more than listen and attempt to sympathize. For once, she initiated comfort rather than distancing herself from her sibling, slowly stroking her hair, rubbing her back, holding her tight as Elain had done some twenty odd years ago when Feyre was just a child frightened of a stormy sky and crashing sea.
“You have endured this long, Elain. Have faith a while longer. Carry what hope remains. If there is one thing that will bring him home it is your bond.”
~~~~~
Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer // @eat0crow
#acotar#feysand#fanfiction#at the mercy of the stars#AtMotS#acotargiftexchange2023#feyre archeron#rhysand#feysand fic#elucien#we'll get back to them in July my friends
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Ho ho ho! We're less than a week away from the first day of gifts and me and the elves have been working hard to get your gift ready 💕 It's looking like a cool 4-5 parts? I may be getting carried away
I hope the moodboard and playlist gave you a little hint about what to expect! Today I wanted to give you a teeny tiny snippet from part one of the fic (below). So so so excited, and I'll talk to you again soon!
Love, Santa 🌟
(P.S. the title was in your playlist)
SNIPPET:
How something so outstanding could be kept in a place as unassuming as this–just perched on a small pedestal in the least attractive section of the museum–was a wonder to her. There should have been hundreds of people crowding around this very case, craning their necks for a chance to see it, this evidence that something had existed before the sun.
“What is it?”
The voice coming from directly behind her startled her so much that Gwyn jumped up, whirling around with her arm out in front of her like she was above to shove the person away. With Emerie berating her in her ear, Gwyn craned her neck up, eyes widening as she saw a man with easily the most gorgeous eyes she’d ever seen. Like molten bronze, this swirling pool of amber and hints of green, and she staggered back, catching herself with a hand atop the case behind her.
“Careful,” the man said, taking half a step forward and reaching out his arms like he was about to grab her wrist before thinking better of it. He cleared his throat. “The guards might think you’re trying to steal something.”
A MUSEUM HEIST!!! It’s already so sexy and I’m absolutely D Y I N G.
My emotional state rn:
And the title was in the playlist?? 👀 maybe it’s “god sent me as karma”?? Or “get him back!”??? Honestly, any of them would be perfect 🤩
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I’m back!! With another little stocking stuffer.
I agonized over trying to find ways to share this with you where it would easily link back to the songs (and by agonized, I mean I spent 5 minutes adding links in Canva and 10 minutes googling PDF sharing), but unfortunately I just couldn’t find an anonymous way to do that 😔 So here is just a flat image of a /preview/ of your fic playlist. The full playlist I’ve been using to write is 1hr and 40min long, but I selected a few of the most pertinent songs.
I hope you like it! I’m always nervous to give playlists because I know everyone’s music tastes are very different, but I think ‘Poison Poison,’ ‘praying,’ and ‘god sent me as karma’ seem pretty similar in vibes to some of the music you mentioned liking (namely, Taylor Swift and ‘dickhead’)! Either way, I hope listening to the playlist gives you a hint as to what you can expect from the fic. Let me know if you have any predictions!!
Link: https://imgur.com/cTA7EyW
As always, I adore you and can’t wait for when it’s time to give you your gift!
Love, Santa 🌟
OH MY GOD OH MY GOD A PLAYLIST
I am FERAL over this playlist—it’s giving broody enemies in a sensual, sexy way and I could not be more excited!! This plus the moodboard has me SO curious about the fic 👀 👀 👀
The playlist so everyone else can experience your musical genius:
#santa you are my favorite person#it’s official#also you spoil me#got me kicking my feet and twirling my hair#secret santa#acotargiftexchange2023#gwynriel
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