A Bargain Well Struck

"Come on ladies!" Cassian shouted over whimpers and ragged breathing. "Five more sets, don't you dare quit on me now!"

A dozen younglings struggled in the mud to lift a heavy iron bar for just one more swing. They weren't practice swords, but the heft was the same. Each swing had to be perfect, or it didn't count, and Cassian's eyes missed nothing.

One more swing, they all convinced their arms that was all it would take. As soon as they made the swing, however, they had to then tell their aching bodies that it only needed one more. Then another 'one more'.

Cassian taught them not to count how many swings were left, because in war there was no clear goal. Just keep going until it's over. Perhaps a cruel lesson to teach children, but it would serve them well all the same.

The eleven year-old girls were utterly at the mercy of the ferocious Commander of Night, but never let their age serve as an excuse to keep them from training. Too many males coveted the honor of being trained by the Heir of Enalius, bastard-born as he was. Those girls had to build their strength and learn to hold their own if one of those males came to punish them for daring to learn.

At the back of the pack, a female far older than ten was struggling to even lift the weighted bar. Cassian sneered at her the same way those males curled their lips at the younglings in his unit, "Nesta sweetheart, why don't you just set that down and take a rest? Pretty females like you shouldn't fight. Remember the war with Hybern? You make a lovely little camp-maid."

Nesta snarled in response and suddenly found a bit of energy left in her emergency reserves.

The taunting always riled her into action. Being reminded of how weak she was, how insignificant compared to the titans around her. Feyre needed to learn to fight in order to feel grounded, and Nesta was more like her sister than she might admit.

Cassian hated the sexist words. He could barely force them out most days as he mimicked the vulgarities his mother was beaten down with.

But it was important for the children who trained with Nesta to see her not bow to him, but fight back by throwing herself into her exercises. She pushed harder at Cassian's defenses every day in the sparring ring, and whether or not Nesta liked it, she inspired every girl there to do the same.

"Four more sets!" Cassian wandered the line and kept check on each of the girls, "Banu, start that set again! Laleh, swing with your hips, not just your arms. Nesta don't plant your feet, keep them moving! It's like a dance- ladies know how to dance, right?"

He knew it was impossible for the girls to make it to the end of their exercise with perfect form. Already that day he'd strapped weights to their legs at the morning run, forced them through endless muscle-building exercises, drilled them in new basics for both defensive and offensive fights, and had them swinging their iron bars around for the better part of two hours. The sun was dipping towards the horizon and Cassian knew more than a few of the girls in his troop were eyeing it.

"Two sets, unless you're Azar, Ziba, Mahin, or Nesta- you have four and Banu is on three."

He caught sight of a youngling throwing the last of her body into rapid-fire swings. Each was technically perfect, but she was hardly breathing and her skin had gone green. The girl was pushing herself to a dangerous point, "Mahtab, you're done. Do twenty squats with the bar over your head and then sit down. Everyone hear that?" He called to his troop.

There were a few barks of acknowledgement from the ones who could still speak. As they finished their exercises one-by-one the girls fell into the squats, using already destroyed muscles to help ease some of the agony from their final hour of training.

"Ooh, Nesta- you don't have to bribe me," Cassian threw a roguish wink as Nesta struggled to force herself up out of a squat. He cast a pointed eye to the curve of her rear and suddenly she was moving again.

Cassian knew the girls figured out long ago that his sexist bullshit was just that- bullshit. Everything was directed at Nesta, and her responses were always carefully planned. She was their role-model, and she wanted to take those poisonous words so that the girls would know they didn't change her worth one bit.

Sister and mother- Nesta was prepared to do or endure anything to encourage her girls. The Illyrian world was designed to push them down until they were little more than cattle. Nesta would bolster them until they grew into a sisterhood that could shake the very foundations of Illyria.

When she first arrived in the camp, Nesta was hardly even functional as a fae. She threw herself at anyone with a cock (all of whom wisely avoided her advances for fear of Cassian), somehow always managed to find a drink, and expressed her hatred of the whole training arrangement loudly in front of the girls.

In her worst moments she cursed and spat at them, even driving one to tears. At her kindest she was a viper ready to snap.

Nesta was lashing out- doing anything she could to get Cassian to drag her ass back to Velaris and throw her in the slums where she belonged. Self-destructive and sick in a way no one could heal, she reached new lows and plunged ever further.

He couldn't get through to her. No amount of begging, yelling, bargaining, or reasoning so much as slowed her descent into that personal hell. More than once Cassian stormed out of the cabin they shared bloody from whatever blade or rock she attacked him with. More than once Nesta arrived to training with bruises from his hands covering her forearms- souvenirs granted to her as Cassian tried to pry clawing nails from his face.

He never struck Nesta, but he didn't do anything to make it easier on her when she landed sloppy strikes to him.. It took her a month to realize that punching him with a closed fist gouged her palm and injured her more than Cassian.

At his wits end, temper frayed beyond repair- Cassian was very nearly ready to surrender and just let Nesta go drown herself in liquor and males back in some Velaris tavern when something finally broke through her walls.

A relatively small incident, but after three months of numb rage it shattered Nesta's ice cold heart.

Four girls from their troop were missing when they regrouped after lunch. Sabah, Atefeh, Zaida, and Farah were nowhere to be found, so Cassian had the rest of the troop split up to find them. He followed Nesta as she stalked through the camp to see if she actually gave a damn about the missing children or if she was using the distraction as an excuse to cause more headaches..

Months of bitter fighting left his heart brittle and shattered his faith in any light he'd once seen in her eyes. To his surprise, Nesta did actually look for the girls.

And she found them.

Atefeh was curled up against the corner of an outbuilding where she'd been attacked by Sabah, Zaida, and Farah. The three were strong and stronger willed, while Atefeh was the smallest of their unit, and bastard-born to boot.

The three were hurling cruel insults at the girl, but when Sabah spat on her and called her a 'half-wild beast', Nesta snapped. She lunged for the then nine-year-olds and planted herself between them and little Atefeh, snarling with a rage usually reserved for Cassian.

They scattered, but when Nesta turned to the waste-and-spit crusted girl, she'd only started crying.

'They're gone.' Nesta had stared at the child, 'Why are you crying?'

'Because you're worse than they are.'

Nesta froze.

Before she could do anything to make the situation worse, Cassian came forward and picked up Atefeh. He took her to her mother and, after she was bathed and put in fresh training leathers, returned to his waiting troop with her to give them all a hard lecture on the strength of unity. Sabah, Zaida, and Farah would sit on the sidelines and were forbidden to train until Atefeh allowed it (which would turn out to be two weeks).

Nesta wasn't at the their troop, or dinner that night. Cassian wasn't sure he had it in him to care anymore. He'd been trying to reach her for nearly two years, and seeing Atefeh beaten down by those bullies- he was sick of taking blows too.

When he came downstairs in the middle of the night for a glass of water, she was waiting at the table.

'I think I called Atefeh that my first week,' Nesta had whispered to her mug of cold tea, 'a half-wild beast.'

'I figured. You call me that often enough.' He didn't try to hide the bitterness in his voice. Nesta's go-to insult was making its way through the camp like wildfire. Illyrians treated bastards badly enough, now Nesta had granted them shiny new insults.

'Did I teach them to do that? To be cruel to her?'

'Probably. Kids are assholes anyways, but those girls look up to you.'

'Why?'

'Because you're older, and because you're Feyre's sister.'

It was simple enough logic- Nesta was the glamorous once-human sibling of the High Lady of Night. Feyre wasn't in the camps, so it was only natural the little ones looked up to the closest person to their hero.

Nesta didn't speak for another three weeks, but she threw herself into her training with a gusto that stunned Cassian. Her first act was to throw out bottles of moonshine and liquor that she had hidden all over the camp, the quantity of which stunned him. There were a few tough days and nights when her body screamed for the poison that silenced her world, but she fought through it.

Conquered it.

In the year and a half since that day, Nesta hadn't touched anything stronger than tea, became a kind older-sister to all of the younglings, made amends to Atefeh (who was now the very heart of their unit), and- in a meeting no one dared hope for- began to bridge the chasm between her and her youngest sister.

One year and nine months after stepping foot on the Illyrian Steppes, and Nesta was finally back from the chasm that swallowed her.

Cassian shared a soft smile with her as she collapsed onto the packed dirt of their training space. While Cassian monitored the girls still finishing up, Nesta encouraged them to follow her example and stretch, lest their muscles lock up.

She was almost as much their coach now as Cassian.

'Good,' he thought, 'I'll need her help to manage them once they hit puberty.' Nesta had already agreed to give them the Sex-Talk once that time came around. They would likely be more comfortable asking Nesta questions than Cassian.

The last of the girls finally fell onto the ground and Cassian clapped his hands, "Alright! Once you're cooled down you are free for the evening! Tomorrow is going to be an extremely taxing day, so make sure you drink a lot of water, eat plenty of good-proteins, and- what's the most important rule?" He waited for their response.

An impressively lively chorus of voices chimed back, "Never skimp on dessert!"

"Exactly! I have some business to attend to so I am heading off now. Remember- keep stretching until your muscles are cool, your heart rate normal, and you can breathe easily. Don't rush it. Understood?"

"YES!" They were always the most excited when the torture was finished. Cassian raised an eyebrow to Nesta who nodded- she'd make sure no one left too early.

Without another word, Cassian spread his wings and launched into the evening sky. Nesta saw him veer off to the North before he entered a cloud and was gone.

Three hours later- long after the camp kitchens shut down for the night- Cassian touched back down outside of the cabin he and Nesta shared. He had two heavy canvas bags in each hand as he opened the door and stepped inside.

Nesta was nowhere to be seen on the main floor, but that usually meant she'd turned in early. Cassian would have to make his apologies for the day's sexist bullshit in the morning. It might have been her idea, but she still needed him to reassure her none of it was true. After forcing himself through the words all day, he also needed to remind himself that it was all an act.

A covered plate of supper waited for him on the table- saved from whatever the camp cooks had prepared. Cassian ate the food without bothering to heat it back up- spiced rice with pan-seared chicken, carrots, and mushroom. All he cared about was the nutritional value of the meal and what it might do to help or hurt his charges after a work-intensive day.

Once finished, Cassian set the kettle on a low flame to heat up while he bathed and washed away his own sweat from the day. His pajamas of choice were a pair of baggy shorts, and he wandered back downstairs and prepared his tea- but the first floor was not as he left it.

A new fire was burning in the hearth.

Cassian grinned, went to put out the fire beneath his kettle, and walked around both dining table and couch to what he knew would be waiting for him.

Nesta was laying face-down in front of the hearth on a folded blanket with only a towel across her backside. Beside her was a jar of rose-scented massage oil.

That was the trade-off in their bargain. Nesta endured Cassian's mock-harassment during the day to set an example for the girls, and she was allowed to demand a massage whenever she wanted.

Truth be told, it often inspired Cassian to push a bit harder.

He knelt beside her- not that Nesta acknowledged him in any way- and opened his wings to catch the heat from the fire and warm her stiff muscles. He carefully swept her hair to the side and drizzled oil onto the female's bare skin.

Once upon a time, such an intimate touch might have shattered his control. Now it was simply business, and one he was skilled at. Cassian traced his fingers up and down the column of Nesta's spine, never venturing far from that central line. He identified the closest knots and slowly zeroed in on them, assessing their strength and depth.

Never one to bother with pleasantries, Nesta hated a gentle touch during a massage. She preferred to endure the agony that came with shifting deeper layers of tissue to work the knot from the root. Even if her skin bruised, she didn't have the patience for an easy, gentle touch.

Cassian was merciless as he dug his fingers in and reminded the muscle how it should lay. Much more painful knots waited in her shoulder blades, and it was there he could get away with a few gentle sweeps of the thumb.

He worked from the center of her spine outwards, following each muscle towards her ribs before returning to her spine. Cassian eased his way down to the edge of that towel without disturbing it, then up to her neck.

A sigh of appreciation as he worked out a particularly vicious knot was the only sign that Nesta noticed him at all. They never spoke during a massage, and it wasn't uncommon for her to fall asleep.

Predictably, Nesta tended to carry tension in her upper back, where that iron rod she had shoved up her ass as a human was still firmly lodged. No amount of Illyrian training taught Nesta Archeron the meaning of the word "slouch", and her rigid posture took its toll in training. He was more than happy to ease those stiff muscles, no matter how much his thumbs cramped.

Cassian spent a good half-hour on Nesta's neck and shoulders. He massaged all the way up to where spine met skull, and for good measure even worked her scalp with his fingertips before moving to her right arm- the only one he could reach without putting his wings down and ushering in the cooler air of the cabin.

He focused on her palms and wrists. Beside her shoulders, they bore the brunt of that day's training as she swung the iron bar. Cassian's hands were sippery against her palm, and the sensation of fingers dancing across her aching skin set off a wave of goosebumps.

Only when he'd worked his way back up to her shoulder did Cassian turn his attention on her equally-convenient right leg. If he stretched his wing out all the way, and bent her leg back towards him at the knee, then he could still radiate heat back. Nesta wasn't overly fond of having her feet touched, so the motions were quick and efficient as he stroked the arch and ball of her foot. A bit more oil around the knob of her ankle and Cassian worked out a final knot there.

Closing his eyes, he reached out and picked up the towel over Nesta's backside. Cassian listened carefully as she shifted, rolling over so that he could finish up the last arm and leg. The towel in his hand was tugged and he released it, letting Nesta cover her pelvis. A second towel she used as a pillow during the first session would be draped across her breasts.

Another line he wasn't to cross without permission.

Cassian monitored her with his fae hearing, listening as she arranged the towels to draw her demarcation lines. Only when she settled and her breathing slowed did he dare open them.

'So it's going to be one of those days.'

Nesta was laying on her back with her arms comfortably at her sides. Her eyes were closed, and Cassian knew from experience she wouldn't open them again until the massage ended. As for the towels-

One was across her arm, one her stomach, and the third had been laid lengthwise to cover most of her un-massaged leg. The only parts of Nesta that Cassian had permission to massage were her breasts, her mound, and a few inches of skin along her upper thighs.

He moved to kneel by her head, and Nesta kept her eyes closed as his warm, broad hands traced the skin of her collarbone. He grabbed the bottle and drizzled rose-oil over those perfect, beautiful breasts that made his mouth water. Gently, his fingers skimmed the top of them.

Cassian shivered at the smooth, soft skin and the racing heart he could just barely feel. Her control was admirable, it always had been, and nothing in her face or breath indicated what Nesta was feeling.

Starting along the outer edge of her breasts, Cassian slid his hands down her rib cage until he reached the other prohibitive towel. She didn't want to be toyed with, she specifically left only her most sensitive parts uncovered. He followed the edge of her breasts back up, his rough palms scraping over peaked nipples.

Cassian squeezed her breasts lightly as his hands returned to her collar to begin the circle again. Always slow, always deliberate, and always with a firmness that tricked her entire body into relaxing beneath his touch.

Every third circle, Cassian would grab her breasts brazenly and, as his hands moved past them, he would lightly pinch Nesta's nipples. Her heart was racing faster than ever as she fell prey to the steady rhythm of his movements. Small flinches rumbled through her, her hips were beginning to roll in time with those hands on her breasts. Nesta's lips parted, her breathing hitched.

Her glorious breasts were sensitive enough that Cassian knew he could make her come with the right combination of movements, but he forced himself to release her chest. She was hiding something other than her racing heart- the first whiffs of arousal escaped from between her legs.

Cassian's wings once again caught the heat of the fireplace as he moved away from Nesta's head and returned to his original spot. Another drizzling of oil on skin was her warning of where he would go next.

She resisted the touch of his hand as much as she could, but even so Nesta's hips raised to meet Cassian as his fingers slid across her hip and dipped between her legs. He didn't touch her where she needed him to, instead focusing his attention on the inner thigh and those nerves where it connected to her hip.

Thumbs expertly trained in erotic massage worked her leg. When his left hand rolled up to meet the fingers of his right his knuckles brushed against her lower lips, pushing the skin ever so slightly and freeing more of her trapped scent.

He wouldn't grant her the relief she needed or craved. Not yet.

Cassian couldn't reach the other side of her hips, so he returned to the swirling motion he'd employed on her breasts- except this time he kept them firmly on her mound. His palms pressed against the lips of her sex, giving her pressure and something to grind up into. He made her still-hidden knot the eye of the storm, the one place that received no attention at all.

Nesta began to shudder at his touch and finally, finally a drop of moisture escaped onto his palm. The next time his hand passed over her he gathered more, until it was thoroughly coated.

At that point, he let himself explore.

Nesta's hands clutched the sheet beneath her suddenly as he brushed his fingertips down the middle of her slit. Her breath was harder and faster than before. He spread the lips of her labia and peered at her glistening little rosebud- the knot she needed him to touch.

Despite her dripping juices, it was still tucked away beneath a thin hood of skin. Cassian rested a thumb on either side and with deliberate, slow motions massaged it just as he had the knots in her muscles. Her hands clawed at the blankets, looking for something solid to hold as he coaxed her out of that protective sheath.

Nesta didn't have a particularly large clit for Cassian to play with, but once he'd brought it out to play he rested it between two fingers. He pinched just enough to pin it in place, then slid the pointer finger of his other hand through Nesta's folds and into her hungry entrance.

She gasped softly as his finger parted her core. In only a few strokes of his hand she was ready for him to carefully push another in.

Cassian set an easy pace, gently swirling her knot between two fingers while the other set massaged her walls from the inside.

Soft cries mixed with her breath as Nesta's legs parted to grant him more access. He never changed his pace, but didn't deny her as she rolled her hips up into his touch. She could take her relied as quickly or slowly as she wanted.

When her hands abandoned the blanket, Cassian only grinned. One went to toy with her nipples while the other wrapped around Cassian's wrist, pulling him into her faster, harder.

Nesta's back arched as she pushed him to move quicker. Her body was tensing in spite of the work Cassian put into relaxing her, and her cries became something edged in desperation. She couldn't keep up the rhythm of her grip on Cassian's hand- though she did pull him in harder to make up for missed beats.

He let her hand go limp, let her become a passenger in her own body as he swirled her knot not faster, but slower, drawing everything in her back towards that sensation alone. Nesta's body clenched, she stopped breathing a moment, and right when it seemed as if her muscles had reached the breathing point, she came.

Nesta's core spasmed around Cassian's fingers as he pumped them into her harder and faster. Her slick heat covered his hand and he knew her consciousness was focused on the wet sound his fingers made as he plunged faster and faster. She loved to hear her own arousal at his touch, so he made sure it wasn't quiet.

She shouted and bit her lip as the orgasm flowed through her and down to the fingers moving inside her. Cassian maintained his steady, unwavering pace as her hips bucked and a flood of moisture spilled onto his hand- the hardest release she was capable of.

Only when Nesta's core abruptly released his fingers and she fell limp did Cassian stand. He said nothing to her, and didn't even look at the eyes that were still closed. Cassian merely walked around the sofa back towards the kitchen, washed the fluids and oils off of his hands, then lit the flame beneath his kettle once more.

Business concluded.

She lay in front of the fire for another few minutes, recovering from her orgasm and letting her body ease back into relaxation. When she decided to get up, her every step was light and pain-free. Cassian monitored her as she walked behind him to the stairs and headed up to bathe.

When she was gone from the first floor he cleaned up the towels and blanket. They went into a laundry basket near the back door already filled with both fae's clothes from the day. By morning the magic of the cabin would have everything cleaned and returned to its proper place.

He was halfway through his second mug of tea when footsteps sounded on the stairs.

As much as Cassian wanted to hear her say he'd done well, he knew Nesta wouldn't talk to him about what just happened.

To mark her first year sober, she'd hesitantly presented herself to Cassian during a massage. She'd stared up at him with such fear and longing in her eyes- emotions that had been absent for far too long. It wasn't the infection in her mind that wanted him to wake her body. It was Nesta- the shining, burning soul that had been lost in the cold for far too long.

She didn't want to talk about it when it was over, and from that day on neither spoke when she was laid out and vulnerable beneath him. He never took liberties, and never took her during the massage regardless of how much she wanted him to.

Not a word of thanks or a grin of approval ever marked the end of the massage. At first he thought it was because she was ashamed of what had happened, and guilt ate away at his heart for ever giving in. At the embarrassment and self-loathing in his eyes Nesta could only kiss him- all the reassurance she could make for the overwhelming emotions he'd granted her.

After Hybern and the Cauldron broke her soul, she'd turned to sex as a cheap way to remind herself she was alive. It was a scream into the void, one that made her feel more and more alone as the partners blurred into nothing. Some females took strength in sex and the passion brought them back to life, for Nesta it was the opposite.

But with Cassian- when he touched her without a care for his own desire- she felt warm and loved and safe. He wasn't a blur. Her soul wasn't cold. With that first sinful massage she could see what waited for her at the end of the road back from oblivion.

Now the silence after a massage just felt right.

She was still naked when she came around Cassian's side. He pushed back from the table and she straddled his hips to give him a long, deep kiss. Her hand trailed down his broad chest until she reached the band of his shorts.

Cassian stared deep into Nesta's eyes as she stroked him back to stiffness and slid herself down onto his cock. She loved the lust that glazed his face almost as much as he loved the same look in her eyes. She moaned, and he grinned at last.

"You're supposed to drink water after a massage," Cassian murmured as he reached up to cup her breast.

Nesta ground against his shaft, giving both of them just enough friction to arouse, "I'll drink something later. You worked hard today out there, you deserve a bit of fun."

"I just boss people around," his heart was picking up speed, but he forced his voice to remain even.

"You fly to Velaris every morning to train my sister, then deal with us, and tonight you vanish again." Her eyes flickered to the door as she rolled her hips and drove him just a bit deeper into her core, "What's in the bags?"

"Some basic supplies. Stuff we'll need when we get to the base."

"Base?"

Cassian nodded, "The troop's been doing pretty well, no behavioral issues in three months. I informed all the parents yesterday that we'll be doing a fairly brutal week-long survival training course in the mountains."

Nesta paused the movement of her hips, "And in reality we'll be-?"

"In Velaris, teaching those kids a thing or two about culture." The Illyrians were too isolated, too separate from the rest of Night. Cassian wanted his troop to see the world and learn more about their Court and all the strange, wonderful people in it. Rhys and Feyre granted him the Townhouse (now filled with bunk-beds) to use as a dorm for his unit.

The joy on her face was infectious, and soon Cassian was smiling too. A whole week for Nesta to visit her family and introduce the children to the High Lord and Lady of Night. Maybe they could be convinced to join them in sparring practice one morning, or entertain the girls with a fight between the two most powerful fae in Prythian.

"I thought you'd like that," Cassian kissed Nesta and felt her smile against his lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight.

Soon enough he would scoop her up, shove aside the tea, and have her there and then on that table, but in those first moments she simply held him and reveled in the body crushed against hers and the kindhearted, forgiving, wonderful male she'd somehow found.

"A whole week in the Townhouse with the troop," Nesta broke the kiss to whisper.

"We'll have to behave."

"I don't want to behave," she tipped back and smiled as she braced her elbows against the tabletop. Nesta rolled her hips again, grinding Cassian's length against sensitive ridges.

"What do you propose?" he growled.

"Make love to me until we both need that week to recover."

Cassian's molten gaze roamed across her body, "That could take all night."

Nesta cocked an eyebrow and reached out to stroke his chest, "Promise?"

The table, the stairs, his bedroom- he held true to his word until a pink glow in the sky forced their aching bodies to the bath where they came together one final, shattering time.

Nesta would sleep the whole flight to Velaris nuzzled against Cassian's chest, blissfully unconscious in the arms of her lover.

Cassian just hoped there was an "adult" room set aside in the Townhouse for them to share-

-and that Nesta would need another massage soon.