Disclaimer: I don't own the Court of Thorns and Roses series.
Summary: Cassian, Nesta, and a normal day of training. Although, on Cassian's part, that requires a healthy amount of staring at his sparring partner. CassianNesta, set sometime during ACOWAR, oneshot
These two are very closely tied with Rhys and Feyre as my OTP for this series. Although Rhys and Feyre edge them out just slightly, it doesn't diminish my love for them any less. I lived for them in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. I really hope you guys enjoy this fanfic. I definitely enjoyed writing it. Thanks for reading!
Cauldron Forged
There are worlds of knowledge in those eyes, Cassian notes.
He could stare at them for hours in quiet contemplation at the power she had stolen, the power she had made her own, the power that terrifies even the strongest of enemies. He knows how this sounds. The whole situation with Nesta Archeron makes him sound like the biggest fool.
Cassian can't find it in him to care.
At the moment, she is staring at him with fire in those very eyes. Anger, he finds, is the most powerful of all of those. The depths of her eyes look as if they were formed from the very core of the earth itself. It takes all of his willpower to suppress a shudder at the sight.
"Nesta..."
"What?" Her voice cracks like a whip.
Cassian gives her a lopsided smile. Only she could make a solitary word feel like a barb in his chest. "I know it can be difficult, to master your strengths - "
"How?" Again, the monosyllabic replies. Again, the verbal equivalent of being slapped in the face.
"Pardon?"
"How? How can you know how I feel in this moment?"
Something inside Cassian frays at this comment. "I've been through more than you know."
His voice slices through the air - a parry to her own comments. The way he speaks must strike Nesta as odd, for she stills, the flame in her eyes flickering to embers, the rage still there but muted, as if she knows.
Cassian refrains from telling her, though. The trials of his early life, the life amid that war camp that he was thrust into. The memory of scraping and clawing for everything he had ever gotten. The memory of finally finding Rhys and Azriel, his real family in every right. This story is far too painful to tell out of spite. This story does not deserve to be spewed in anger.
"Maybe one day I'll tell you," he says, softer now. His fingers brush a stray strand of hair from his eyes.
Nesta looks at him, something in those eyes simmers like compassion. She has always been beautiful, even when she was human, but now...now...
He can't even put it into words.
"Do I have something on my face?" she throws the question at him, although there is a tone to her voice that suggests insecurity.
Something about that innocent question causes him to pause, causes him to crack the faintest of smiles, but one that holds no less depth than his others.
"No," he says, but the words imply something else, something deeper. Nesta feels this and almost flushes. Almost. "Not at all."
She inhales deeply, almost as if in contemplation. Nesta looks at him and those eyes, those mesmerizing eyes, study him - for once - as if he is something particularly interesting, something worthy of her dissection, something that just may be more than she originally thought.
"Alright, then," she says, bending her knees slightly in a crouch, "let us continue."
The two of them pick up right where they left off - well, before Cassian was entranced by the intensity of her eyes (and, let's face it, that was quite often indeed) - and Nesta charges at him, the liquid grace of the High Fey powering her every movement. Her powers might be something odd and forged by the cauldron itself, but there is an intensity to her, a physical strength that he cannot pinpoint. It reminds him of certain warriors - the analytical sort, who could accurately describe the weakness of an enemy wherever it was, without fail. The kind who was able to create strategies without so much as the blink of an eye.
Cassian raises a strong hand and blocks her punch; she is raw, still, grass green and unused to her new body. Amren may be training her in the concepts of the mind - and she may be excelling at those - but she has a long way to go in the realms of the physical.
Realms of the physical echoes in his head, and an image of her sprawled on her back, him buried deep inside her, washes over him in a wave. It's enough to break his concentration, and Nesta's next punch smacks him square in his jaw.
She stops dead in her tracks, stunned at her own actions. Nesta's gaze drift from his eyes to his jawline, where there is a slight redness beginning to bloom. "C..."
Nesta almost looks like she expects him to be angry with her, but accompanying that emotion is prideful awe; he can see it as it enters her eyes, swirling around and mocking him.
Instead of what she expects him to do - scold her? punch her back? - Cassian laughs - a loud, hearty laugh that rumbles through his chest and into the air around them. Nesta looks at him, puzzlement rolling across her face, replacing the former emotions, and she reaches up and pushes him in the chest. He doesn't move an inch, and she growls at him, "Hey, what's so funny?"
"N-Nothing..." Cassian says between laughs. "I...just can't remember the last time someone sucker punched me."
It was partly his fault - okay, all of it was his fault - but still...
Cassian continues to laugh, running a hand through his hair and looking down at her with an affable smile. "You've stunned me, Nesta."
With that admission, a lovely pink coats her cheeks - ah, yes, he loves that about her - and she scoffs, a light smile tugging the edges of her lips. She pushes at his chest again, although this time she is gentler. "You...you shut up..."
He grins toothily at her, shoves her back gently. No words leave his lips; he is far too amused.
Nesta scoffs once more, this time the sound is bordering on a laugh, before she realizes Cassian's hand lingers just a bit too long on her shoulder. Her smile falters and an odd look enters her eyes. Before she shrugs it off, Cassian removes it, the feeling of her tingling through his fingers and up his arm, almost like lightning. He flexes his fingers, but the sensation lingers.
She seems smaller now, allowing that little bit of lightness to seep through her icy persona, almost like she regrets showing a lighter side to herself. Cassian smiles down at her, voice soft, and says, "I like it when you smile."
Nesta doesn't respond, this comment almost making her shrink even further, as if she is unused to such words. Maybe she is, but he can't imagine why. Even while human, she was stunning. Becoming High Fey had made her devastating.
"I apologize," he tries to amend.
She lifts a slender shoulder in her nonchalance.
"Want to come at me again?" Cassian lifts a brow with his question. "I promise I'll try to ward you off this time."
Somehow, the return to the familiar makes her return to herself. She straightens, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The braid she wears is messy, but makes her no less exquisite. "Alright."
Although, as Nesta charges at him again, Cassian has the errant thought that he would be unable to ward her off in any manner, not even if he tried.
End.