Like Falling Snow
It's not Christmas, just forgot to post them on fanfic.
Summary: Cassian's and Nesta's first Solstice in Illyria
The snow fell in heaps across the icy landscapes, dipping each tree in frothy white. Cassian stared out the window and wondered if someone could be buried under it. Alive, but barely. Breathing steadily under the brush of winter.
When he was little, the thought of snow would leave him shivering. To a boy with no home and few clothes, winter was a promise of death. If the snow could bury him, erasing all evidence that he had ever existed, the memories could make sure Cassian never resurfaced.
He grasped his throat, feeling the suffocating cold years behind him. In an hour, this cabin would be nothing but a memory, gone with the bitter frost.
There was nothing left of that little boy; he had disappeared on winter wind along with Cassian's childhood. He could no longer call winter a punishment, either—not when he learned that family was a type of warmth. The pain of winter ebbing until only love was left behind.
They were waiting for him, no doubt. For him and the others, wherever in Velaris they were. Traditions were more important now. Differentiated only by the time and people they could never get back.
Cassian wished he could say he was excited, but the imminent dread followed him even after the snow had melted off his coat.
In the cabin, the fire roared. Sweet crackling that made him think of warm hot chocolate, spiced with chili peppers and dolloped with whipped cream. He imagined the townhouse in all its splendor, the fireplace they'd wait for him to decorate with garland and poinsettias.
The image warmed his heart, made his wings itch with need. He'd be surrounded by family and warmth and love. Not this house, encased in only snow and emptiness. With its barren walls and furniture that no more seemed welcoming than the doormat still wet from his boots.
But… she'd be here.
Waiting, maybe. Wondering where it all went—where even he had gone. If Cassian had even been there to begin with.
He sometimes wondered that, too. If he was there or if he was like the winter, himself, a silent passerby that brought nothing with him, but left a thousand different worries behind.
If Nesta was anything like him, she'd sit on the window's ledge, curl her knees to her chest, and look outside. He could almost imagine her fingers trailing along the glass, pretending the snowflakes she drew in the crystal would answer all the questions she didn't dare ask.
Cassian looked towards Nesta's door, hiding her behind the redwood.
Sometimes he'd hold himself back from knocking, as if the door would somehow open for him, suddenly. She'd be there—expecting him. She'd smile, he'd laugh, and everything would be different. So different that he could see it, like catching snowflakes in his hands.
Cassian never did let himself knock, his fading footsteps the only evidence he had been there at all.
Nesta rarely came out of that room and they'd been here for months now. Something about her enraged him enough not to care, simply because of the that gut-wrenching ache in his belly that only grew at the sight of her and festered when she refused to look at him.
If she was content to hide away, then he was content to leave her there, trapped in a world he'd long ago decided was trying to bury him alive.
Cassian had almost started to miss the way she clenched her fists in agony, any moment ready to hit or maim him. Her fiery temper rivaled only his own, and though she infuriated him to no end—even infuriated him now—he enjoyed their spats. Even looked forward to them on occasion.
Now, they barely spoke to each other.
It was the greatest form of dismissal that Nesta preferred the company of silence over him.
Really, It was probably what she wanted him to feel: worthless and aggravated.
He'd be loved in Velaris, and Nesta would be here, entertaining the dust and snow. It was the first thing she did once the winter came, writing Feyre that she would not and would never again go to one of their "exclusive inner circle functions."
If Cassian was being honest, he wasn't sure they wanted her to attend. Feyre and Elain, of course, but the rest of them…
She probably preferred it that way. Nesta wanted to be alone, preferred the silence, the books, the cold. Not the familial warmth that reminded him he was alive, but only seemed to burn her.
Her blatant exile would last far past Solstice, anyway. A fact both itched at his chest and liberated him from guilt. Nothing much would change past these three days. Nesta would still be the same person when he came back, with her anger so cold it itched like frostbite.
He felt bad for even thinking it, though. Nesta was just… easier to deal with when she wasn't there.
The trek back to Velaris would take him half of the day. He stretched his wings in preparation. Covering himself in his leathers and coat. He checked the firewood—made sure there was enough to last her. He checked the pantry, the locks, the roof, everything that could go wrong in the span of three days.
There was no chance of a storm, though a large snowfall was expected.
Everything Nesta needed was right here in this cabin, stocked, ready, and capable. She'd be okay, he promised. This is what she wants.
Stepping outside the cabin was harder than he'd expected, every step through snow grabbing at his legs. Cassian merely kicked it away and walked on. If he held his head in indignation or primped his wings stubbornly, he didn't acknowledge it—Ignored the part of his conscience that was wound around that redwood door, like it had tied a string around his heart.
Cassian was all too ready to dismiss her from his life, and from this Solstice, all together. To get the holiday over with and back to normal, back to steady silence and silent pleading.
The fear kept nagging, though, as silent as the snow. Cassian hoped nothing changed, that nothing ended up being worse than before, so much worse that it was irreparable. He'd freeze time if he could, just to stop things from rotting and withering away.
His thoughts kept him on the ground, until his wings couldn't take it any longer, feeling the freeing, brisk air—euphoria in clouds. Still, he waited and wondered, watched the little cabin get smaller and smaller.
Still, he wished.
It would be a great relief to see the sparkling rooftops of Velaris. His family, the laughter, the glistening sidra. To forget everything about her and that house.
It would be a great relief when Cassian couldn't feel the string pull any longer.
Cassian didn't make it past the evergreens.
He was an idiot. For a multitude of reasons.
He was an idiot for not listening to her or to himself. A coward, for leaving her there. He had flown and flown and flown, and she was alone… just like he always felt, waiting to suffocate under the weight of snow that just kept falling.
He remembered the little boy who fought for the clothes on his back. The one who looked at his brother and wanted what he had, and instead of feeling remorse, beat him until his brother's clothes belonged to him. Refusing, not for one second, to believe that he could be swallowed whole by the earth without it feeling his kicking rage.
His anger had never been quiet… and neither was hers.
Cassian kicked open the door, lugging the monstrous pine through. The door, smaller than he ever noticed. The needles poked at his skin, and he refused, absolutely refused to let it damper any bit of Solstice spirit he would puke inside this house.
He was so busy, dragging the tree through the kitchen, muttering to himself in a fit of aggressive yuletide carols, he hadn't even the tea kettle whistling, or the pillows strewn across the floor.
Cassian stopped, completely and utterly wrecked at the sight of her.
Nesta stared at him, the color of winter in her gaze. She did not look away, and Cassian reminded himself, again, that he was an idiot. Not because he left, or… came back, but because she was here, and he couldn't even think about leaving her.
Cassian imagined this many times. Played it over and over as his soul enjoyed the flight, his heart wrestling with his mind. In his head she always looked angry, her eyes a thin layer of ice that he'd fall and drown in.
Instead she looked breathless… and surprised. And, the look made him smile softly at her, a breath of fresh air to the million minutes he was suffocating.
"I thought you were supposed to be in Velaris." Nesta said shockingly.
He expected to hear a tinge of anger at being disturbed; for seeing her relaxed and warm and normal. But the anger he knew roared in her, that he stoked along with fireplace, had perhaps been buried under inches of snow—along with his excuses.
Nesta was dressed more casually than he had ever seen her, wore merely an oversized sweater and leggings. Her fluffy socks peeking out beneath the checkered blanket she cradled close to her chest. There was a book on the coffee table, silently staring at both of them, waiting.
Cassian wondered why she hadn't already bolted.
Maybe she was just as surprised as he was… Or maybe she wanted this as much as he did. The thought, somehow, made him feel both warm and foolish.
"I was on my way to Velaris." Stupid. He was so, so stupid for thinking this was a good idea, "but I came back."
Nesta looked at him curiously, took in the whole of him, no doubt flushed by the cold wind, and ruffled by the tree. If she was any of the others, she would have already been laughing at his disarray, the way he tried not to fidget at her judgment.
But Nesta wasn't anything like the others, and maybe that's why nothing in his body could leave her. She was like him—even if she hated it. Even if he hated it sometimes. She could tear him up easily if she wanted to, knew his weaknesses like they were her own.
"Why?" Nesta asked softly, always questioning. Always curious.
Cassian wanted to tell her the whole story, to write it out like a novel she could read and dissect. Wanted to tell her that he had been waiting for her all this time, watched that door and hoped the knob would turn suddenly. That he wanted to talk with her but didn't want to be the reason she hated this world. That he was scared, and angry, and not okay in the slightest—and it was easier. So, so easy to pretend.
It was never easy to forget, however, and maybe that's why he was standing here. Still carrying the tree, he hadn't set down. The weight making his shoulder ache, and his hands just wanting to hold her, like some lovesick fool.
Cassian didn't know where to start this new game of theirs, a different kind than their raging words. Scarier, still.
He supposed, he'd start with the truth.
"It's Solstice. And, this year, I want to celebrate it in this house… with you." He finished lamely. His chest raced to catch up with his thoughts, his lungs suddenly out of breath. "If that's okay."
Nesta looked uncomfortable with the words, her own caught in her throat at the thought that he wouldn't leave. Things he knew she wanted to say, because he had seen that look many times, when he was too stubborn to let her win their many arguments.
"What about the others?" She asked convincingly. Cassian merely jostled the tree so that it laid more securely, dragging it past the snipe of cold and frostbite. He didn't take his gaze off of Nesta as he moved, entranced by the whole of her. Hoping to all heavens that she'd never stop talking.
"They can survive without me this year." The tree was heavy as he neared the window, the earth embracing the snow like two long-distant lovers. "Besides I sent the presents early, so they won't miss me too much."
She worried her lip in her teeth, her eyebrows furrowing in contemplation. He wondered if she did really prefer being alone to being with him. Cassian brushed over the ache before it could show on his face… or in his temper.
Cassian stood the tree up, near the window and the fireplace. When he was flying past, he sometimes saw her there, looking outside like she, too, wondered if winter was an enemy or a silent guardian.
Right now, it was easier to tell. Its watchful gaze reflecting Nesta's curiosity through the glass. He'd give her all the answers if only she asked.
But Cassian underestimated how large the tree was to the house, got lost in his impulsive need to come back like he had never left to begin with. The height reached past the ceiling, the tip bending to fit. It lugged side ways and he almost lost his grip, the tree swaying dangerously… and then steady.
He looked over at Nesta, surprised, her thin hands holding the other side. Even though she stared pointedly at the pine needles, she held on to it tightly. The almost-toppled tree a book laid open before her.
He'd seen that look before, too.
Her wide eyes only narrowed, when she couldn't ignore his stare any longer. Cassian wanted to sigh with relief that she wasn't angry or embarrassed or annoyed. Just waiting and willing, it seemed. The eyebrow she raised, told him enough, made him want to laugh, giddiness crawling up his chest.
"Can I ask why you cut a tree so large?"
Cassian grunted at the question, shifting it slightly to get to the bottom. Nesta held it sturdily, while he secured the base. When he came back up, she was still waiting patiently for his answer. He motioned with his hands to let go.
"Honestly," A good place to start. "It was the first one I saw on my way home, and it was large and… perfect." He held his arms out in admiration—exaltation. "So, this one it is."
The tree stood proudly, only slightly hitting the ceiling. It looked at them both, watched and waited for them to move or to speak. An audience to their little game, that would either have no winners or two.
Cassian wrung his hands, his palms sweaty and nervous and so unlike him, that he almost laughed at himself. Nesta played with her fingers, and he felt the need to grab them, to enclose them around his and hold tightly. As though, it would make him feel steady.
He smiled softly at the tilt of her head, her pale neck bare and bending to look at the tree. Its height much taller than her.
Cassian gestured towards it and moved to get the box of decorations in his room.
The lights and bulbs had sat silently in the back of his closet. He had bought them, when he had bought the cabin and never used them since. Cassian didn't asked himself why he bought them, didn't really want to answer a question he only asked in his dreams.
Nesta waited at the door, looking in, but never stepping over the threshold. The box was light in his arms as he made his way back to living room, Nesta following him even if she pretended, she'd rather be doing something else. Casually, walking behind him.
The tree was bare and so was the house, but not for long. Not when they had a box filled with color, and two people with time and a terrible need to use it.
His lips turned up slightly, smaller and then wider, and then small again. Stupid and comical. He shook his head internally. "Help me decorate?"
Cassian wanted to show her that there was nothing to be afraid of. Not with him, and definitely not with them, together. That this game was something they'd surely win, if only they could do this one thing.
Nesta's eyes searched his own, deciding what the cost would be. She went down the line of consequences, of future problems or regrets. Cassian hoped she'd choose him—for whatever it was worth, whatever the cost.
Cassian.
Instead of her quiet bedroom filled to the brim with books and blankets. Things that brought her more comfort and love than he ever had.
His wings widening out of habit, Cassian hoped like a child's solstice wish that she'd stay.
"Okay." She answered softly. Whole and steady like the tree. Waiting, and curious.
If Cassian didn't already have wings, he would have grown them, then. Her flushed cheeks revealing what her eyes could not. Like, the winter had brought in more than new snow.
"Do you do this every year? Decorate the house in lights and greenery?"
The conversations had reached a steady humming of words. He was content, as her strong voice kept asking questions. Cassian answered them eagerly, rushing to fill her mind with wonder, before Nesta finally decided she had enough and stormed away. Gone, like she'd never been there to begin with.
"Of course." He picked up another string of lights, ready to hang them across the living room like they had done with the tree. "It's a Solstice tradition." His answer bright and cheerful.
Cassian didn't mention how he had done it last year, too. How he wished, just like her sisters did that she had helped pick colors or set mantles. How it was a family activity, and though she didn't want to be, she was family. Not just Feyre's family anymore… Though sometimes they didn't act like it much—a thought that made him ache at the regret a little more than just how her attitude had been.
Nesta gently lifted the red bulb in her hands, watching as it fit on the branch and hung with purpose and glee. She shrugged her shoulders casually, and Cassian marveled at the whole of her, at the strength it must have took to stay with him.
"It just seems like a lot of work."
"It is." He smiled widely, even wider at the look she gave him, like she didn't know where the old Cassian had gone and when he'd been replaced by this festive version, that didn't bite or pretend to. "When it's all done though, you'll see."
Nesta looked doubtful, but Cassian knew the wonders of Solstice, the wonders of not being alone. Every little light fulfilling a million different wishes. All of them intangible and twisted. Ready to unravel at the sight.
Indeed, when they finished, half the day had flown by. The sky changing as the box of decorations emptied. When it was dark enough, the sky a deeper shade of violet and the stars poking through, Cassian turned them all on.
The tree lit a beacon of hope across the living room. The arches covered in garlands and color looked straight out of a picture book.
Cassian had never seen this place look so… homely. Like he wanted to live here and love here and laugh here. Again, and again.
Nesta stared in awe at the lights. The backdrop of snow making the room ethereal—magical. He almost forgot that she hadn't gotten to see them properly. The last time not going as well as they all hoped or planned.
She encircled the room—slowly, taking in the colors. Cassian watched her as he was prone to do, like he always did even if he pretended otherwise. The slight upturn of her lips made his own raise involuntarily. His heart twisting as the blues and greens danced on her cream-colored sweater.
Nesta looked at him then, and he wondered how many time they had asked these wordless questions, when their own voices couldn't do their hearts justice. She watched him with the same awe she looked at the lights with, like the winter itself had surpassed every logic and it was snowing inside the house. Surrounding them with something new, bright, and alive.
"I have to go get something." He breathed, the words rushing out of his mouth, without a thought. She left him breathless and scrambling to put all the pieces back together that he ruined last year.
She blinked up at him, and Cassian wished he had kept his foot out of his mouth.
His heart raced, but the last shop was closing, a young shop owner all to ready to end the day, but who held onto a small box for him. A gift. One that he spent a whole day wading in the water for, after that disastrous first Solstice.
"It's not going to take long." He could barely grasp out the words, his own sentences fumbling in his search for his coat, his head. Where it had gone, he didn't know. Lost somewhere between Nesta's eyes and her pleasant smile. "Just— just stay here. Okay?"
He found his coat thrown haphazardly on the dining room table, remembered that Solstice didn't actually start until three days from now. They'd need food and cocoa and wood to keep the fire burning and bright.
He'd collect each item. Wrote them on the list in his head and added more when he looked at Nesta and her thin sweater. Blankets and a heavier coat for her… and gloves. So, they could go outside and… start a new tradition.
Just him and her, and the time he promised.
Cassian rushed to the door, a flurry of hard limbs and snow, but she grabbed his arm. Strong, steady, and warm.
"You're coming back," her face awash in reds and greens, "right?"
Cassian wanted to hold her close, so close she'd feel how fast his heart moved. He couldn't tell if he was out of breath or his chest had decided to combust. He wanted to hold her close, to take that haunted dip of her voice away, until he only heard peels of laughter that he'd heard quietly through the day—and those sweet, roaring insults he knew well.
But first the box, and then he'd show her why she'd never have to worry about that again. Never as long as they lived, even after the snow melted away.
He smiled at her, big and bright, grabbed her shoulders gently. Keeping a distance, to let her get used to him.
Cassian slowed his movements down. Nothing about her and him had to be rushed. He'd use all the time she gave him.
"I'll be right back."
Blue met hazel and Cassian understood why they took so long, why it would take longer and longer until she'd never doubt him again. But the light shown brighter in her eyes, and a chance lied between them. A chance he was going to plant firmly, like the evergreen. Standing proudly like a trophy they had both won.
When he came back, he'd bury them under blankets, and alive they'd be. Dancing under starlight and winter, reds and greens. Wrapped tenderly, sweetly protected by the light and their dreams. The warmth surrounding them like falling snow.
"I promise you."
