A/N: All criticism is welcome if honest. I hope you enjoy!

"Nesta...may I ask you a question?"

Nesta looked up from her breakfast plate at her younger sister, who was gazing upon the Velarian scenery through the open window of their upstairs bedroom in Rhysand's townhouse. The two sisters had largely been left to their own devices in the month since the...incident in Hybern, allowed time to 'adjust' to their new bodies. 'Adjusting,' of course, was that bastard Rhysand's language, as if she could just bounce back from what was, as far as she was concerned, her own death.

Elain had accepted the change quickly enough, but she just...couldn't. Elain might be able to forgive these Fae for the abuses they committed in kidnapping the two of them, but she was always a special person in that regard. She could be insulted to her face, and she would find a way to compliment them in return. And while it had taken a few weeks, Elain was already graceful in her new body, fluid in her movements and smooth with her speech. Meanwhile, Nesta still hated every limb, every joint, every cell of this joke of a gift that had been forced upon her by that Hybernian asshole. She clenched her fist. If only she cou…

"Nesta?"

Nesta looked back up to see Elain was now staring at her and sighed. Elain's kindness was balanced by her complete inability to hide her emotions, and Nesta could tell Elain was worried about upsetting her, a worry that she supposed wasn't too out of place considering how quickly her mind rushed to the negatives of their situation.

"Yes?"

"I've been thinking a lot since...everything that happened to us in Hybern. What do you think the mating bond...feels like? Is it just intensified love? Is it like a familial sense of belonging? I wonder if you feel what they feel? Think what they think?" Elain's attention shifted back towards their view of Velaris.

Nesta stilled. Of the topics she had expected Elain to broach this morning, this wasn't even in the top ten. Elain knew how she felt about anything Fae-related. She tried to answer in as dull a tone as possible. "I have no idea, Elain. Why don't you ask Rhysand yourself? You seem to spend enough time with him as is."

And indeed she did. Ever since Elain was able to walk without stumbling in her new body, she had visited with Rhysand quite often. And not just Rhysand, but Morrigan and Azriel and the rest of her sister's Court. Even that bastard Cassian.

"I did. But he said it was something so indescribable that I would have to experience it to understand it. I wanted to know what you think."

"What I think is that anyone stupid enough to enter into any kind of Fae ritual deserves what they get. If Feyre wants to spend her whole life controlled by an emotional fog telling her who to love and how to love them, she can do so. It's not my business."

"Nesta, come on. You don't believe that." Elain gave Nesta a sympathetic, but firm look. "Besides, Rhysand says that the mating bond must be freely chosen by both mates, or it doesn't click into place."

"Good. Then you can tell that Spring Court asshole to shove it." Nesta put her plate down and got up, trying not to let her irritation at this conversation show to her sister. "Anyway, I'm going to go for a walk; I want to see if Azriel has any new information on Feyre's situation. The sooner she's back, the sooner we'll be able to reverse this Fae plague."

Elain opened her mouth to respond, but Nesta was on her feet and out of the room before she could even make a sound. She tilted her head to the window and gave a small, satisfied smile.

"Told you I could get her out of the house."

Nesta grumbled as she stepped out onto the streets of Velaris, not looking forward to the day ahead. She decided to set off towards the House of Wind, feeling obligated to visit Azriel now in order to be able to answer evening questions from her sister. If it were up to her, she would be spending every day indoors until she heard news from Feyre – the less interaction she had with these Fae, the better.

Even now, she was taking back alleys to avoid running into other people. But it seemed the harder she tried to shut these people out, the harder they pushed on her walls. She made accidental eye contact with a passing mother and her child as she rounded a corner, both of whom waved in her direction in recognition. She forced a smile, grimacing once they turned their heads. Hating these Fae was so much easier when they acted like Ianthe, like...Fae. Seeing the...normality, the humanness of the Velarian citizens' lives was disconcerting. They should hate her; they were Fae and she was…

She was Fae. She stopped her walk and sat down against a building. She was Fae. The thought invaded her head like a curse, enveloping her. She had become that which she hated, that which she spent every moment in her previous life trying to avoid. And there was nothing she could do for herself, for her sister. Nothing. She knew the others put up with her talk of reversing the process as a nicety, but she hadn't been ready to accept the finality of the transformation yet. Not after the first week as her sister had, not after the full month, maybe not ever. And she had eternity to live with it.

Deep down, she knew that being Fae did not mean hating humans. She knew that, but...whenever she thought of herself as Fae, she visualized Elain and herself being grabbed in the dead of night, forced into this life. And she couldn't live with that image.

"Nesta? Are you okay?"

Nesta snapped her head up and saw Morrigan looking down on her, concerned. She stood up quickly and steeled her face. "I'm fine. I just thought I would get some air."

Morrigan studied her for a short yet unnerving amount of time, then motioned to the building she had just exited. "If you're here to visit him, he's not doing great. He could use the company." Her look held a silent plea Nesta did not understand, until…

Until she realized she was standing outside Cassian's house. She had walked here absentmindedly, and Morrigan thought... Nesta kept her face rigid as she quickly retorted. "Only for a short time. I just figured I'd stop by on my way to talk to Azriel about what information he's gathered from the Spring Court."

Morrigan blinked and raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Azriel? The House of Winds is in the other direction from the townhouse, across town from here." Nesta's face reddened despite herself. Had she really gone that far off course...? "But I suppose you wouldn't know that with how little you've seen the city. I can take you there afterward if you would like."

"That's not necessary," Nesta blurted, eliciting a smirk from Morrigan. "I meant that it was early enough that I planned on doing both. We'll probably need Cassian's help extracting my sister from the Spring Court, and I wanted to talk to him before talking to Azriel."

"Of course." Morrigan moved to step past Nesta, but stopped alongside her instead and dropped her voice to a whisper. "But if you were to have some...alternative motive in being here–" Morrigan turned her head slightly to lock eyes with Nesta, who had managed to re-harden her expression. "–then I would please ask that you lengthen your visit. He's in bad shape. He hasn't left his apartment the entire month we've been back." She paused for a moment, as if to let the impact of her news settle. "And besides, he's Fae. Heightened sense of smell, etc. He already knows you're here, so I wouldn't suggest leaving without saying hello." Nesta straightened.

"Anyways, see you at dinner!" Morrigan practically shouted as she winked and turned to walk off with a short, lazy wave.

Nesta snorted in response and watched Morrigan walk off. The Night Court was insufferable. Especially... She turned to look at Cassian's house. She had come here once before, immediately after Hybern, to see how bad his injuries were. He had cursed so badly at her being present that she had stayed away in the month since. Well, that was her excuse, anyway. She wanted to hate him for breaking his promise to her and her sister, but seeing his wings in that condition...had broken something inside of her. And she knew that he would have done the same thing for her, had it been her instead of Azriel he needed to shield.

Nesta groaned. There was no point stalling any further. If Morrigan was right that he could sense her, it was going to look badly if she waited any longer entering his residence. She turned and strode through the still-open front door of his house into his living room, stopping dead in her tracks. His back was to her, his wings being attended by healers on either side. His wings... They were still tattered; in some cases, there were bones completely unconnected by tissue and struggling to stay in place at their spinal roots. She attempted to stifle her gasp, but she could not catch herself in time. He spun around in place, shock on his face.

"What are you doing here?" he grumbled in a low, territorial voice.

"Stop moving, Cassian. We can't help you if you keep fidgeting." The plea came from one of the doctors who had successfully ducked for cover as Cassian swung his still-fully-extended wings.

"Shut up. I don't want her here. Get her out of here." Nesta opened her mouth to retort, but she was halted by the look in his eyes. There was...shame. Guilt. Self-hatred. She knew that look well; it was a look she used to give herself every night when she had gone to bed full because of Feyre's hunting. Every night of life that she had been given by her sister, no thanks to her waste of an existence, no thanks to her indiscriminate purchases. But he…

"Pity yourself if you want. But don't expect me to leave you alone to do so." She walked towards him, studying his wounds closer. It definitely looked as if his wounds had scarred, but it was unsettling to see the tissue hadn't healed at all. She quieted and softened her voice. "What's going to happen?" She moved to touch one of his wings and he flinched back.

"They said...if my condition doesn't improve within the next few days, they'll have to amputate them or risk the infection spreading."

"Spreading...?" He still wouldn't make eye contact with her, so she stepped closer to him, inspecting his wings for inflammation. "They're still infected?"

Cassian simply nodded, then gestured towards some half-empty jars in the corner she hadn't noticed when the healers had been tending to him. Attendants who, she acutely noticed, were now absent from the room. "Salves we obtained long ago from the Dawn Court. They remove the infection well, but...something is preventing my body from healing, and the infection just finds its way back. We are wasting precious medicine – if it were anyone but me, the decision to amputate would have already been made. But Rhysand is buying me time to process and say goodbye to them."

She darted underneath him to catch his eyes before he could look away again and her eyes widened. She had wanted to tell him so many things. He needed to grow up. He needed to stop being such an idiot. His complaining wasn't helping anything. He wasn't solving anything by giving up. But when she saw the pain in his eyes...something else entirely escaped her lips. "Can I help...?" He looked down at her, finally meeting her eyes, studying her before he spoke.

"Well, those healers were supposed to be applying the salve to my wings, but as you can see, they have decided to desert their positions. Do you mind?" His face twisted into a smirk. "Since you've already decided touching me isn't a problem and all." He winked at her, and her temperature increased as she realized how she had been standing practically chest-to-chest against him in order to catch his gaze. She snorted at him and stomped off to the jars, thankful he couldn't see her face. She opened one and recoiled.

"Cauldron, what in the world is in these?" It smelled like a mixture of gasoline and baby food; the rancidity was overwhelming her Fae senses.

Cassian laughed. "I said they healed infections – I didn't say they were pleasant to the nose. I actually haven't been able to smell anything for weeks; my body has given up trying out of self-preservation."

Nesta grimaced and held the jar far away from her face as she walked back towards him, pinching her nose with her other hand. He turned and motioned to a stool behind him, and she stepped up onto it as he spread his wings. A new pain struck her as she saw the extent of the damage up close, a pain she was suddenly glad he couldn't see on her face. "Is there a special way you need this done?" she called from behind him.

"No, just make sure you get every spot on the wings covered, then I will have to dry them for about fifteen minutes." He paused for a moment. "And be careful. Our wings are...sensitive."

"So I've heard. You're just going to have to put up with it." She scooped a little salve on her hand and began to smear it along the top of the intricate bones of his left wing, and he shuddered. Her face turned bright red again and she stepped back off the stool.

"No, it's fine. You're fine. It just...it hurts."

"You're sure?"

He turned to look at her. "Yes. Now get to work and hurry up – I don't want my dinner getting cold." He flashed a cocky smile at her as he turned back around.

"On second thought, I think I'll quite enjoy this," she countered impassively as she started applying the salve again. Thankfully, the intense concentration it took for her to avoid tearing the weak tissue remaining in his wings relieved her of the awkwardness of small conversation, but about halfway down his left wing, she suddenly stopped in realization.

"Wait. You can't smell anything?"

He snorted in amusement. "Not a thing. Why? You wearing a perfume just for m-ahhhhhh," he yelped as she squeezed one of his bones.

"Sorry, my mistake," she deadpanned as she finished his wing and moved to the other, finishing in silence. His arrogance was going to have to wait in line. Because her line of fire was concentrated on Morrigan tonight.

That bitch.

Cassian sat in his bedroom, brooding over the evening as he air-dried his wings. Even for Nesta, that had been a low blow on his wings. But...he sighed. There's no way she could've really known. Despite his warning, she was only recently Fae and had no wings herself. She had no idea how sensitive wings actually were. How excruciating every day was for him in this state. How the slightest touch of hers on his wings had caused his body to…

He shook his head to clear it. He didn't need to be going down that mental route either. Anyway, he knew, deep down, that she had only meant it as a warning, that she hadn't meant to cause him any real pain. Unlike her actions in the human world when he had visited her, he gruesomely remembered...although he had deserved that one. Tonight, he had...felt her emotions. Felt them as if he was the one experiencing them. And in spite of his lying to himself constantly about the topic, in spite of his avoidance of her since Hybern, he knew now that it was true.

Nesta Archeron...was his mate.

He dipped his head. Of all women... He couldn't get enough of her, but he felt off-balance constantly when around her. And with how much she hated the Fae, with herself being Fae...he felt like he had no chance with her. And now she had seen him in this horrible state. A weakened man who had broken his promise to her, and she still took care of him. Helped heal him, despite the meaninglessness in light of the upcoming amputation. Helped him...remember why he fought in the first place.

And he resolved then that, come hell or high water, he would heal. Wings or no wings, he would find a way to protect this Court, this city, and, most importantly, her. With her feelings on the Fae, with her experience with men – he clenched his fists in primal anger at the reminder – he expected her to turn him down. But he was going to return to his battlefields. He was going to find a way to keep Velaris shielded. He was going to help Rhysand and Feyre protect Prythian. And despite the obstacles that laid between them, he was going to walk beside her until he could not physically walk anymore or until she no longer wanted him there. She had given him part of her strength tonight, despite his avoidance of her the entire month she had been living here. And now he was ready to confront the topic of her to himself.

He looked at the dinner he had self-prepared, as he had done every night since he was healed enough to walk after the events in Hybern...and threw it out. With a final push of determination, he got up and rushed downstairs and onto the Velaris pavement before he could stop himself.

And started living again.