"I would keep you safe. If you would just let me. And maybe, maybe, the nightmares would stop for a time."
WHAT: Nesta draws on someone else’s nightmare and it makes her own worse. Cassian barges in WHERE: Nesta’s apartment WHEN: Middle of the night on May 13th/14th WARNINGS: Nightmares, angst angst angst, some PTSD and a strong case of denial. STATUS:Complete!
A new world, strange and unfamiliar, shouldn’t have been a comfort. It shouldn’t have been quieter, giving someone with Nesta’s history a brief respite. But it was. Showers for one had been a great help, the fact that she could stand there and be clean without having to submerge her body in the water, and it was far more refreshing than any bucket of cold water had been over the last year.
She was always so careful to school her thoughts, to have that wall up, but here she could let it down a little. She still wasn’t willing to let anyone in, preferring to keep to herself at all times, both here and Prythian. Cassian had come the closest. He’d earned a few smiles, more words than she usually gave away to anyone. During the process of training with Amren and the build up to the battle with the High King, she’d allowed him a few stolen glances and brief touches. A far cry from their combatant words previously.
But that had been a mistake. Between Mor’s angry glares and everything that had happened-- She couldn’t let her guard down again. Letting someone in as she had, no matter how drawn to the connection she was, had only resulted in pain. Shielding his body with her own, being prepared to die with Cassian - it had struck a painful cord and her emotions were drawn too thin, sapped.
She’d still thought about him regularly, in the few days they had been apart. Then he was here, as if Nesta’s mind had summoned him, and they were such a far cry from the Night Court.
Nesta still pushed him away, despite her better judgement, despite the little voice in her brain telling her to pull him in, lean on him. Sometimes it felt like being near Cassian, she could relax her shoulders. He wasn’t draining, like most people were - he didn’t take from her when it came to her emotional stores, he gave back.
But she still couldn’t bring herself to let him in. Physically, she’d allowed him near her, but she’d been ice cold since his arrival.
Now, someone in the building was having some sort of emotional crisis. A nightmare, or terror. It had happened while Nesta herself slept, and drifted into her own dreams, triggering them to be more intense than usual. Screaming, her father’s body, Cassian’s blood on her hands - the same ones that clutched the sword that took the head of the High King.
She woke up screaming, with sweaty palms that felt almost as if Cassian’s blood was on them once again.
There was little that bothered Cassian. He was unflappable in even the most dire situations. And while arriving surprisingly in Vallo had its own list of problems, there wasn't much he could do. Settle in, getting his footing, find the best flight path, communicate with the fae communities. He was used to being thrown into the unexpected; flexibility was key.
Except Nesta was here too, cold as ice, rigid and unrelenting. Cassian had, as always, hit a metaphorical wall. It was as if the events a week previous to this had ceased to exist. Did he imagine the battle? Did he imagine her arms wrapped around him, covering him, protecting him as he spoke his heart into her ear? Death had felt inevitable, but he promised her forever in that moment. Now alive, even in this new strange place, that did not negate his feelings. But Cassian had reached the top of that wall between them, only for her to push him from the ledge.
And even then, he climbed again.
He could hear her in his dreams. He could hear her in his nightmares. Cassian felt that parts of himself were so intertwined with Nesta, that it was impossible to separate what even belonged to him anymore. He had given away so much of himself to her, and Cassian didn't mind. It mattered so little to him when it came to her.
The night had come, and years of war and training made him a light sleeper—quick to wake, quick to be at the ready. Cassian had given Nesta her space, despite the pain it caused him to do so. And still, he had heard her cry out from floors away. He tore himself from the bed he had secured, half dressed, and shot out his own balcony window to hers. He had been surprised to find it open and unlocked.
What he saw once inside her bedroom made his heart jump to his throat. Cassian was to her side, not crowding her space, but as a protective barrier. His attention danced across the room looking for whatever had caused her scream to slice through him—intruders, strangers, something else entirely.
"Are you hurt?" Cassian asked, his voice low and rough.
Against her better judgement, Nesta’s hands curled into Cassian’s skin. Whatever he was looking around for, he wouldn’t find. The room was bare, a few books set on the table - no enemies to speak of. Those were in Nesta’s mind.
Even now, in Cassian’s presence, she felt better. She would never admit that out loud but something about him calmed her. Either that, or she learned to lock down her walls around him. Maybe the world as a whole quieted when she was busy pretending to not have feelings.
“No,” it was a simple statement, quiet and shaken. She looked down at her hands-- no blood. In that moment, she realized exactly where they were. She released her hold on Cassian, as if his skin was burning and pulled the blanket up over her gown. “What are you doing here?”
If Nesta pulling her hands away was akin to being burned, losing her touch as quickly as Cassian had received it was just like being slapped. The moment sobered him, and the lapse in fear for her had settled into something solid in his gut. His attention traced over her silhouette in the dark, the way she pulled the blanket up for modesty. Something Cassian seemed unconcerned with for himself.
"I heard you," Cassian said. And then he second-guessed that statement. Had he heard her? Was it just his need to be close to her? The night in a strange place was like a deep pool, festering with all their vulnerabilities, toying with his needs and insecurities in the unfamiliar shadows. "I heard you," Cassian said again. He was not a liar, but he didn't want Nesta to think he was by making up excuses to see her.
"I'm going to turn your lamp on." It was not a question, but a warning, as he reached for the pull string on her bedside table. He remembered her fingers on his skin, like a brand. Someone who was fine would not reach for him so intensely. He needed to confirm for himself that she was all right, as the room flooded with hazy, soft light.
Nesta’s eyes closed against both the idea of hearing her and the light flooding over her. Had she really been that loud? It was possible, but she barely remembered making a sound, let alone the scream that had come from her throat. Back to herself in no time, Nesta sat up a little straighter and leaned into the headboard, away from him.
“I’m fine.” She wasn’t. She was a far cry from fine. Her emotions were frayed, her hair was falling around her shoulders in sad disarray, and she still had a light sheen of sweat across her skin. “It was just--” She brushed him off, both physically and emotionally, as she’d done so many times before. “A nightmare, or something. You can go away now.”
So cold and dismissive on the outside, it hid the internal layer of fire that burned deep, anger and hatred seeting under her skin - not for Cassian, just for the Fae that had done this to her. Unfortunately, Cassian was the one to get under her skin, and the one to receive the brunt of it.
"Just a nightmare," Cassian said, his brow raising dubiously. He should have been more respectful of her privacy, he should have taken her at her word, but when he finally drank her in, there was nothing that settled his mind that she would be all right if he left. He continued to stay standing, but his wings tucked themselves tightly against his back. He was saying I'm not leaving through subtle cues in his body language.
Cassian knew a dismissal when he heard one. But Cassian was also bullheaded and stubborn when it came to Nesta—when it came to anyone really, but more so her. His own pulse was still racing watching her. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, be there in the only way he knew how, but in the small hours of the night he wasn't sure he could take the rejection again. This was enough, existing in her space.
"You know it's not that easy to get rid of me. Especially now, especially here. We are in a strange place Nesta, far from home—" His home, Cassian reminded himself. But he had hoped that she might see comfort in it some day as hers too. "If you don't feel safe, even in sleep, you can say so. Who would I tell?"
You would know, she wanted to rage at him. Feeling vulnerable was one of Nesta’s least favorite things, and around Cassian, her guard dropped more than it did around anyone else. Confessing things just amped up the vulnerability, and made her even more cagey.
Her brain was fully awake now, and Nesta slipped out of the bed on the opposite side from where Cassian was standing. She grabbed for the robe nearby and knotted it with determination - attempting to cover up her slightly trembling hands. It would be no good to have a fight in the middle of the night when there are neighbors around, so she did her best to keep her voice quiet and level. “Have you never had a nightmare before?”
Nesta waved a hand as if dismissing him, again. If it didn’t work the first time, maybe it would the second. “I have not felt safe since the cauldron, Illyrian. What is your point?”
Cassian let out a huff of laughter. Did he ever have a nightmare before? His had changed over the years, and though war had been ingrained in his blood since birth, there were still memories of battle that haunted him in the night. Even the sweetest dreams could twist unexpectedly. Cassian's time with them had only schooled his subconscious to endure them, quietly, alone. He did not want that for Nesta.
He wasted no time following her, trailing her out of the bed, tethered together by an invisible string. He was not turned off by her disdain—when had he ever been? And he reached for that waving, dismissive hand. Holding her was like holding the blade end of a sword, slicing him open when she inevitably pulled away. .He knew it was a risk, being invasive to her space, but he needed to prove to her that he was real in some way.
"I want to keep you safe," Cassian paused realizing this was not about he wanted. He could only offer Nesta facts, honesty. "I would keep you safe. If you would just let me. And maybe, maybe, the nightmares would stop for a time."
True to Cassian’s thoughts, Nesta let her fingers graze against his for only the barest of seconds, before she pulled away. He just had to say words that dug deep in, making her back stiffen and her walls build up. It was a fairytale, what he wanted. He couldn’t keep her safe, no one could. There was anger and hurt and a deep, dark sadness to Nesta’s shoulders as she pulled her hand in to her own body and wrapped her arms around herself.
It paled in comparison to having his hands on her, but Nesta was too stubborn to admit that.
“What you want is a child’s dream. Why is it what you want, and not what I want?” She turned her sharp gaze at him, icy daggers shooting out in his direction. “I do not need you to feel safe. I need no one but myself.” Because that was easier. Less painful, somehow.
Even if it didn’t feel like it, as her gut wrenched with the words.
"Is that so hard to believe? To want? Safety with another person?" Cassian asked. The look across his face seemed almost angry, but it was only covering up the hurt of his desires being likened to a child's dream. Was safety childish? Was comfort and protection childish? If that was the case for Nesta, she would never see him as anything more. His wings shuddered in a rare lapse of momentary defeat.
He watched her curl into herself, further away from him. He longed for her ferocity that didn't come from pain. He wished that whatever had broken between them, between Nesta and the world could be fixed. He was patient, he would wait.
Cassian held his hands out in front of him, a surrender to her. "So there is nothing I can offer you? Nothing you will take that I would give? Alone in this room, in this apartment, in this strange world, that is enough for you?" He shook his head, incredulous. And he let out a soft laugh, a strange sound in the tension of the room. "I don't believe you."
Another person. She wanted to rally at him, to slam a fist against his chest. Nesta knew Cassian would either stop her or just let her, and both thoughts made her fume with anger. It was easiest to direct that anger at him, instead of where it couldn’t be directed - at the Cauldron, at the circumstances that put her to the point where she felt everything.
His surrender brought Nesta an odd amount of peace, as if she was feeding off of his gentle calm, as she’d done in the past. She had no answers for it, and Amren had only just made a noise when it was casually brought up in their training sessions.
Nesta didn’t have enough self pity in her to admit any wrongness, or to let her shoulders slump too far in their own defeat. She met his gaze with her own, leveled, calm one. Forcing herself through it just so he would go. “I need to find safety in myself before anyone else. There’s nothing for you here, Cassian. I am not-”
She wanted to tell him she wasn’t worth it, but couldn’t manage to be that self deprecating, and instead lifted up her chin in stubborn defiance.
There was a line that Cassian was coming very close to crossing—ignoring her requests, ignoring what she wanted, the more he pushed—and he wouldn't do that to her. Not even when his own barriers were pulled down in the middle of the night, trying to prove that it was okay to be open. That he would not judge her.
He took a deep breath, then another, an reluctant acceptance to her continued requests.
"All right," Cassian said. He knew he lost this moment to her, but he was not going to give up because she turned him away. He reached out as he stepped closer, touched her elbow with a gentleness that betrayed him—Cassian was brutish, intimidating when he needed to be, rough around every edge. But he was unpredictably soft for Nesta. Did she know? Did she know how much?
"I respect that choice. Your choice." He leveled the same calm, serious look back at her. "But I am choosing to sleep out there—" Cassian gestured briefly behind him, to the living room. "Just for tonight. I'll be out of your way. They call this a compromise."
For a brief moment in time, what felt like a sliver of a second, Nesta leaned into his touch. She was drawn to it, before she got her head on straight and her brain snapped back into place.
At least this time she didn’t turn to knee him in the junk the moment he got a little closer. She didn’t have it in her. The nightmare was draining, and she was already tired again. Tired of fighting and of worrying and of feeling-- To just forget would be nice, but that wasn’t an option here. What Cassian proposed …. Sounded perfect, in a fantasy world. She was far too much of a pessimist to think anything good would ultimately come of it, but there was no real difference to him being in the living room than when he’d slept in the same house in Velaris.
And even Nesta had to admit she had felt a little safer, whenever the Illyrians were there.
“Just for tonight, bat-boy. I’m going back to bed, you can--” It felt too comfortable to offer him blankets or a pillow, so she waved a hand towards the door. “Figure it out.”
Cassian tried not to look too pleased that he had won this small battle, but he failed miserably. He didn't want her to change her mind. "I'm certain I can figure out sleeping. If you need anything—" He didn't finish the sentence. The implication was there that he would be ready for whatever she needed, when she figured it out.
He nodded, sharp, once. It wasn't a bow—Cassian was sure Nesta wouldn't give him any more time to go through the motions of courtly mannerisms. But his eyes lowered in respect, the same kind he would give his High Lord and Lady. She was held to the same regard to him.
"Goodnight, Nesta," was all he said as he withdrew further from her, one step then another. Then, Cassian slipped quietly from her room.