Chapter Text
Prologue
How ironic it was that the end of her life, her final moments, would be like this. That she wouldn’t die alone like a dog, because he, this monster she always hated, held her hand, because to this monster no one deserved to die alone, even though he himself was doomed to die alone. "Like attracts like," they had once told her. And perhaps it was true; he was a broken monster, condemned to pay eternally for the mistakes he had made, and she was the same, a monster, broken, broken, shattered, and rebuilt until she was tame and submissive, until she was what others wanted her to be. They took away her claws and fangs because they were afraid of her. And when she finally reacted… she had already lost everything, including herself. The last thing she saw were those green eyes looking at her with sadness, at her who had always hated him and had never been kind the few times she saw him. He even said a prayer for her with a voice hoarse from years of disuse.
“May the Mother hold you. May you pass through the gates and soon smell that immortal land of milk and honey. Fear no evil. Fear no pain. Enter into eternity.”
At the end of her life, the only genuine act of compassion she received, from someone who owed her nothing and would gain nothing from her, came from someone she had always despised and hated. From another monster just like her. She closed her eyes and let go with the hoarse whisper of the last words he wished for her journey.
***
She didn’t know what she expected; maybe a very naive part of her had hoped for an "immortal land of milk and honey," as that monster had wished for her while she exhaled her last breath of life. But when she opened her eyes, there was no land of milk and honey, only a rocky ground in a countryside she remembered with distaste and the eyes of a male she had never expected to see again while he ordered her.
"Drink." And he placed something in her mouth.
Her body ached, her shoulders and her feet. She had forgotten how much it had hurt at that moment, so many years ago, because Nesta knew where she was, at what moment she was; she would never forget. She blinked, confused, not knowing if it was a dream; after all, some people said that your life could pass before your eyes as you died or if, for some insane reason, she had returned to this specific moment in her life, the definitive moment when she chose to break and become what others wanted her to be. The moment she allowed her claws and fangs to be taken from her.
She took the water that passed her lips without thinking. Her mind was too confused.
"When was the last time you drank water?" the fae male asked, but she didn't really hear him. She was too busy thinking, why?
"You should have been drinking water all day," the male snapped, but she didn’t pay him any attention. Instead, she remembered those tired, green eyes full of infinite sadness that had held her hand as she exhaled her last breath. Like attracts like. One monster accompanied another as it died.
"We’ll camp here tonight. We’ll go a few more meters and you can sleep."
In truth, she didn’t hear anything he said; her mind was elsewhere. The male picked her up and walked with her; her mind kept spinning, spinning, and spinning. She fell into unconsciousness. But when she awoke, she was still there, not in an afterlife, no, she was still on that penance journey that had been her punishment all those years for speaking the truth.
The same view from that occasion, the valley, the lake that had taken her breath away that first time welcomed her, but this time she felt no emotion, nothing. Perhaps, in reality, she had truly died inside. She looked at the lake with detachment, not remembering having completed the walk with him to that place, but it was obvious she had done it once again. She had been so filled with hatred and contempt toward herself that time. And maybe she deserved it, but she wasn’t the only one to blame for everything, and still, every little bit of blame was placed on her because, somehow, she was supposed to be a mother, not just an older sister because, despite having parents, she was responsible for what her younger sister had done. And nothing she had done in return would ever make up for it, not going to the wall for her, willing to rescue her, not being kidnapped in a war that wasn’t hers because her sister couldn’t keep her mouth shut and served them on a silver platter, not being murdered as a human and turned into a fae to then fight a war that wasn’t hers and win it. Not making magical weapons for them, not procuring the treasures of terror. No, nothing was ever enough. The irony was that she no longer felt pain, she felt nothing. Her mind always went back to her last moments of life, to the broken monster with green eyes. She had no remedy. Did he?
She didn’t really see what was in front of her, but this time not because there were tears in her eyes, but because her head and mind were not there. So the male looked at her, seeking a reaction she never gave. No tears, no screams, nothing.
"Nesta," the male finally spoke her name. She didn’t even look at him. - "Do you have anything to say?" He pushed her.
She blinked at him, remembering he was also there.
"What do you want me to say?" she asked, bored. He seemed shocked, almost hurt, as if he hadn’t expected this… great nothing from her.
"Nesta, you understand that what you did was wrong."
"What did I do?" she asked, tilting her head toward him with boredom.
"Telling Feyre about her pregnancy was cruel," he asserted.
"It was the truth," Nesta said with a shrug. - "It was simply the truth, Cassian," she said, turning her eyes back to the lake without seeing it. Cassian shuddered as if she had struck him. For many years, the feelings and happiness of this male had been more important than her own. She had molded herself to be what he needed, cut parts of herself to fit into his family because she wanted nothing more than his happiness, but he had never tried to be who Nesta needed. He was happy with the broken and obedient toy she had become.
"You used that truth as a weapon," he growled.
"A weapon I wouldn’t have had if you hadn’t given it to me," she said, bored, looking at him while shrugging. - "You gave me the weapon. Because you were the ones who lied to her. If you had told her the truth, then I would have had nothing to say to her," she shrugged. It took her until her death to understand that. - "Her mate or you or any of the others should have told her the truth, let her decide if she wanted to continue with this pregnancy and risk her life or if she wanted to go to Thesan and terminate the pregnancy. But you decided for her… and I’m the bad one for telling her," she said simply, unmoved by his rage. - "Are we going to keep walking until I collapse again and your beloved Rhys is happy with my punishment?" she asked sarcastically. - "Or can we go back to my glorified prison?"
"Nesta," he growled, but she only looked at him with detachment and didn’t say another word. For two more days, Cassian tried, spoke to her, but Nesta didn’t register anything he had to say; her mind was too occupied with other things.
After two days, he seemed to give up and took her back to the House of Wind. When they arrived, Nesta separated from his arms and entered the house without giving him a single glance while Azriel approached Cassian. If she had looked at him, she would have seen Cassian’s absolute devastation and defeat at Nesta’s lack of remorse. Although, to be honest, even if she had seen it, it’s likely it wouldn’t have mattered to Nesta in the slightest.
***
Seeing Emerie and Gwyn was a fleeting, slight joy. These women had been good friends, until even that was lost over time. Gwyn was Azriel’s mate, and Emerie fell in love with Morrigan. They fit perfectly into Rhys’s happy family… it was Nesta who never did. She was merely tolerated. Well, after all, Gwyn and Emerie hadn't harmed Feyre like Nesta would always be blamed for… even after saving Nyx and Feyre's lives. Although, on the other hand, that didn’t surprise her. The High Lord of Spring saved Rhys’s life, and yet he insisted on making him miserable and was never forgiven.
- "Tell me you at least had a week of good sex," Emerie said.
- "No, I was taken on a punishment walk because Rhysand wanted to kill me, so I didn’t have sex and I don’t think I’ll ever let him touch me again. I was just punished for a week," she responded calmly to the other female. The horror with which Gwyn and Emerie looked at her made her think maybe she shouldn’t have said that. She saw Cassian tense up, surely his fae ears had heard her.
- "Why did the High Lord want to kill you?"
- "Because he kept secrets from his wife and I told her," she said calmly. - "He had ordered that it not be told, so... that’s the summary," she shrugged, not caring. - "Let’s go back to training," she told them, not understanding why they looked at her with so much pain.
***
That night at dinner, Cassian awaited her with deep disappointment. It was obvious that, instead of moving forward, Nesta had regressed deeply. He didn’t know what to do.
- "Why did you tell them that?"
Nesta blinked at him, clearly seeing that Cassian wanted to fight, but she wasn’t interested in that.
- "You still owe me a favor from our deal. An hour of training in exchange for a favor, as long as you didn’t crash headfirst into the ground," she reminded him, noting that they hadn’t settled that debt from the first time she agreed to train. Cassian blinked uncomfortably, as if he had forgotten. - "I want to claim my payment," she requested. Cassian tensed; even he couldn’t evade the magic of a bargain. - "I want you to leave the house and take Azriel with you. You’re welcome here during training, but other than that, I don’t want to see you or have you under the same roof where I’m imprisoned. I don’t want you here," she said, but knowing that Rhys wouldn’t allow that, she added, - "At least for a week, I want to be free of your presence or your little friends for at least one damn week."
Koschei, Briallyn, the mortal queens, the harp, the mask—none of that mattered or scared her anymore. Once she had great power in her hands, and these people, instead of helping her train it, taught her to fear it, so she foolishly gave it up, because no one should be more powerful than the great Rhysand.
- "Nesta…"
- "Do you renounce the bargain?" she interrupted, looking at him impassively. He looked at her devastated but ended up nodding; it had been a deal.
- "One week," he agreed.
- "Good, go," she dismissed him.
****
At first, he was wary, but Nesta was there every morning at training with the other Valkyries. Even though she didn’t bother to speak to him or direct a word his way. She hadn’t wanted to tell Rhys yet, because Rhys would be furious with her—Rhys was already furious with her; this would only make it worse. The last day of that week was a relief; tomorrow he could return to the house with the bargain fulfilled and try to find a way to help Nesta. But when he showed up the next day, Nesta was not at the training, Nesta was not at the house, and even her belongings were not in the house. He then learned that Nesta hadn’t worked the previous day at the library. Nesta had been missing since the day before, during the hours she should have been working at the library after training. Only a letter was left behind.
“Dear Feyre,
I regret not having had the capacity to be a mother to you after our family fell from grace, after our mother died and our father gave up. I was filled with anger at him for giving up, so angry that even if we had to die for him to lift his ass and do something, I thought it was fine. In my blind rage, I was never able to see that my way of punishing him also punished you and Elain. I always thought he had an obligation to take care of us, and I hated him for not doing so, and a part of me hated you because you chose to do it instead of forcing him to do it, as I tried to do. It was unfair to you, and childish of me, to want to force him to do something. It took me years to understand that it was never about our father not wanting to; it was about him not being able to, that he was such a miserable and regret-ridden being that even getting up was a titanic effort for him. At least in the end, he reacted, he got up, and did something for the three of us. I only regret that I could never tell him that I forgave him and that I was sorry.
In my excuse, I can only say that I TOO was a child, I had lost everything too, and that pain treats us all differently; some mature and become strong people like you, others hide in their gardens like Elain, and others become filled with rage like me. But as unfair as it was, I refuse to spend my life lamenting and paying for mistakes I made when I was a child. I made mistakes, you made mistakes, and even Elain did, but your family will always blame me. I do not have to live forever under the boot of your husband who hates me for something that should only be between the three of us. No, I am not Illyrian at heart, and he didn’t say it as a compliment either; I have the heart of a human, and you should know that no one like our old race carries hate and love, to feel more intensely than anyone because our lives are a fleeting breath that must be lived to the fullest. I don’t have to live under Amren’s scorn, a woman of about 30 thousand years who is unable to lift her feet off the back of a 25-year-old girl, of Mor always sticking between me and Cassian because she needs Cassian to remain the toy she wields against Azriel. I will never be a priority for my own bondmate; our story is not like yours and Rhys's; it is more like Rhys’s father and mother. Not all bonds are right, and ours is not; I don’t want a partner who doesn’t make me their priority. Call me selfish if you will, but I long to be the priority in at least one person’s life. I refuse to settle for anything less, I refuse to be only second after their obligations to your partner, I don’t have to do that.
Even if I wasn’t the best sister when I was human, I went to that wall for you, willing to trade myself with you for your freedom because I couldn’t bear the remorse of letting Tamlin take you in exchange for a fortune, because I couldn’t stand seeing how Elain and Father didn’t remember the danger you were in. When you returned to our mortal home and we were put at risk by being made to bring the mortal queens, I was willing because I felt I owed it to you because I couldn’t cross that wall, because then I encouraged you to flee to what I believed was the love of your life, only for you to end up dead and turned into a fae. Your partner promised to take care of us, but he wasn’t able to, and I won’t blame him for that; maybe it was our fate. Yes, it is true that it was Tamlin who planned a double game, but at the end of the day, Tamlin didn’t deliver me or Elain; that was Ianthe’s doing, and she did it because you didn’t stay silent and told her everything about us. Then I died, I became something I had hated and feared all my life. If Elain and you adapted more easily to that life… I did not, and I was condemned for that too, for not being grateful for a life I DIDN’T ask for. Then I went to a war for you, exposed my heart to a bunch of unknown faes to convince them to go to war for you and Elain. I used myself as bait in that war and saw my father die in front of my eyes… a father I had always hated for not fighting for us, died trying to protect us, his last words to me were that he always loved me despite how much I despised him. Do you know what that did to me? Yes, it’s true that I sunk into alcohol and sex to stop feeling the pain eating me from within. And I was condemned for that too… from you and Elain, I can accept it because you are both as young as I am, even though it hurts that I was condemned for not recovering like you did. But from the fae over 500 years old from your family? As if they had never been in a destructive spiral after living through horrors? Honestly, they can go to hell as far as I’m concerned; I won’t accept being punished for being sick with pain because what they did was not to help me, it was to punish me, to subjugate me.
Maybe you had your best intentions in your heart, or maybe a small part of you wants to punish me because if you are honest with yourself, you hate me as much as you love me… but your mate? The others? No, they just wanted to subjugate me, to bend me to be what they wanted. I was too unstable for anything more than being a prisoner in a place I couldn’t escape, just as Tamlin made you, which is why you destroyed his entire court, but I was supposed to be grateful for you doing the same to me. If I was too unstable to deserve anything more than having my freedom taken away, but I was stable enough to be used by your husband at his pleasure. I’m sorry, Feyre, I was not born to be a pawn for him or anyone; I was born to be free, and that won’t change just because he feels uncomfortable with my power. I won’t cut parts of myself just to make you have your happy, dreamy family; that’s your dream, not mine. I’m not something to be fixed and then given to you as a soltise gift; I am not broken.
Why am I telling you all this? I’m not looking to make you miserable or anything like that, I’m doing it to beg you to leave me alone, don’t look for me, don’t think of forcing me to return to your dream court because that is your dream, but it’s my nightmare. I beg you, leave me alone, and if you ever felt anything for me, force your family to leave me alone, forget about me. It’s what I long to do with you, forget you and heal far away from all of you. Maybe in 100 or 200 years, I’ll find forgiveness and peace within myself, but if it happens or not, it will happen on my terms, on my time, not on the one you want to force upon me.
On another note, as your sister, I will give you one last piece of advice: this pregnancy will kill you and Nyx, and thus Rhysand. My advice to you is… don’t listen to Madja and change form, take the risk; if you’re going to die anyway, at least try to survive, take the risk, fight for your life. If not, go to Thesan; Madja is not the best healer, no healer in Velaris compares to the dawn healers, go seek help from them, maybe they do have a way to save you. Fight for your life and don’t sit around waiting for others to find the solution for you; it’s your body, it’s your pregnancy, only you can decide what to do with it, and no one else. I wish you the best of luck, Feyre, may the stars light your way… and may our paths never cross again.
With love and with bitterness:
Nesta Archeron”