Lightning a Fire

Nesta groaned as she awoke, the outside light giving her such a piercing headache she couldn't open her eyes in the slightest. Not to mention, her muscles were in excruciating pain as well; how much had she had to drink last night? She whimpered as she tried to roll on her side and tug her comforter over her head to shut out the light.

But her hands met empty air, rubbing only against the roughness of the top of her sheets. As the haziness of sleep wore off, she began to wonder how her Velaris apartment was getting this much light streaming into it to begin with; she always had the blinds closed, and it wasn't as if the city was particularly bright to begin with. But then, that bastard had probably left her window open when they had left the other morning, and she must've forgotten to close it.

She calmed her mind in order to try to progress along that resulting sequence of events. She remembered Cassian dropping by to accompany her, then she was yelling at her sister – she gave another whimper and scrunched her still-sealed eyes as a particularly sharp migraine shot through her head, but kept working – then...Cassian was taking her back home, and she was packing to go...

Her eyes shot open then immediately slammed shut as the light from the large window beside her filled her vision, causing her head to light up in pain and prompting a small scream as she covered her face. She heard footsteps come running towards her, but she didn't particularly care, considering the amount of pain she was in. Seconds later, the door came crashing open, and she ducked under the sheets to try to escape the noise.

"Sorry."

Though she still embraced the darkness beneath her sheets, she could feel his apologetic wince from the softness of his whisper. She merely grunted back, too exhausted to tell him to get out. He walked lightly – thank the gods – to the side of her bed, and she turned her back to him, then changed her mind as she realized she was now facing the window and chose to bury her face in the sheets instead.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Out." Her voice was stifled by the sheets in her face, and she heard him sigh in frustration. She decided not to give him the time to verbalize those emotions. "Everything. Hurts. Out."

Her words elicited a brief pause on his part, then she felt his presence fade with the sound of his footsteps. No sooner had she been given this short time to relax, though, than his footsteps returned, and the bedsprings rasped with the pressure of him sitting beside her. She gritted her teeth – this was the last thing she was in the mood for – but she peeked her head out from under the sheets, opening her eyes as thinly as she could to look at him.

"I'm fairly positive I said–" Nesta was cut off by Cassian dropping an unmarked tin right in front of her face. She moved slightly to get a better vision of him and to retort, edge lining her voice. "And what–" She pushed the tin slightly with the tips of her fingers. "–is that?"

"It's a special oil Illyrians use, made from a sap found only in the trees lining the Illyrian Steppes. It should make your muscles calm down enough to let you sleep a little longer, which should make that headache–" He narrowed his eyes, halting for a few seconds and perhaps debating his next words. "–and hopefully that attitude go away."

She exhaled at him in disgust, then turned her attention back to the tin, immediately stilling at her realization of his implication. The idea of him applying it to her, his hands massaging her muscles, working their way down her back...she shook her head. Once, during the war, the idea would've sent chills down her spine, heat in her core. She would've spat insults and fought at him until he'd fought her stubbornness with his own, insisted she "couldn't possibly" get to those hard-to-reach areas, made her want his hands roaming down, exploring...

She grimaced and forced her mind back into reality. She already was cursing herself internally, as he no doubt could scent the path her mind had taken, despite her burning face being mostly buried in her blanket and sheet. It wasn't that simple anymore, though. As much as her body had craved his touch from the thought, she also knew the other side of it, the power that would leak out from that contact, the loss of control it could cause, the damage she could do to him, to herself. She opened her eyes wider, her headache slightly dissipated, and was surprised to find his expression hadn't changed. She struggled to speak, but managed to force out a single word.

"No."

The word came out soft, but laced with venom. It was perhaps harsher than she wanted, but it was necessary, she thought, as–

"I wasn't offering." His countenance stayed stoic as he stood up from her bed, brushing his leathers off as he walked to her door, turning his head slightly to look at her as he hovered his hand against the wood. "I don't have time today; I'm already behind schedule as is. Besides, you're going to have to learn to help yourself eventually, and this will be a good start." Nesta huffed at his impertinence, but she tightly held his eye contact, even as her tightened neck protested at the awkward angle. She wouldn't back down from him ever, no matter how he spoke to her. ...No matter if his emotionless voice caused a deeper part of her to match her muscles in agony.

His hand wobbled slightly on the door, then he averted her gaze as he finished speaking. "Now, I have work to do; you've been asleep for several days, and I've had to postpone some things while waiting for you to wake. I'll be back this evening to check on you. Hopefully you can figure out how to apply a salve without my help in the meantime." She didn't have an opportunity to respond before the wood of the door clicked in place, the handle turned to reduce its noise. The sounds of the front door creaking open and shut resonated through the wooden floors moments later, and she sighed as she laid down carefully on her back and closed her eyes to dissect the morning's events.

Nesta laid on the cottage's couch, its shabbiness oddly comparable to the furniture in her Velaris apartment, and just...stared at this infernal kitchen that Cassian had apparently built. Like the building around it, it was fairly makeshift, consisting of only a small stove and some basic cooking necessities. But that was a much more minor issue compared to her self-revelation that cooking was much more difficult than her servants had made it seem back in the human realm. She'd eventually stopped trying, mostly out of a wish not to destroy all of the cookware in the house, but it was still infuriating that such a simple task evaded her.

She rolled on her stomach in annoyance as her stomach grumbled, well aware that she would have to find some way to coax food out of Cassian, even as she barely wanted to speak with him. Though...there were positives to this forced scenario of hers, as it gave her an excuse to find out how she ended up here and what had occurred in the last few days. She dropped her face into the torn cushion beneath her, exhausted.

You've been asleep for several days. Cassian's comment flickered through her mind as it had dozens of times that afternoon. How could anyone, let alone her, sleep that long, and how was it possible that she didn't dream during that time, considering she'd had near-nightly nightmares for months with only a few hours' rest? It seemed impossible.

Though...her body certainly backed up his claims. Not only was her stomach now betraying her, but to be so wound up that a mixture of his scent and a mere balm had disrupted her concentration a few hours prior...she groaned and rose her head, narrowing her eyes in the general direction of the kitchen. She'd at least been able to deal with that herself. There was nothing she was going to be able to do about her hunger without knowing how to use his blasted stove; it was likely going to force her to leave the house soon, with or without being able to interrogate Cassian.

Loudly grumbling, she stood up, wincing at the sudden pain shooting through her legs and latching onto the back of the couch until her nerves dampened. At least the salve had worked just as well as he had claimed it would. Her muscles still tensed and locked, but she could largely move around with relatively minor pain, something she couldn't have imagined this morning. Her newfound mobility had allowed her to mostly scope out this dwelling she found herself staying in, though the steep stairs still eluded her.

Cassian's cabin was a small house, made up of a single bedroom that she safely assumed was his, a large drawing room with a built-in kitchen, and her room, which looked to have been hastily fashioned from a former study, all on the first floor. The only bathroom seemed to be attached to Cassian's bedroom, which...could definitely pose a problem, but that was something to be worried about at a later point. The second floor, which looked to be significantly more compact, appeared to be fairly unused from what she could witness from the ground level, though she planned to fully explore the area once her pain subsided completely.

Having determined she'd waited a satisfactory time to walk, she tested her legs without the support of the couch. They lightly burned in protest, but...they'd probably be fine enough to at least assess her location from outside and see if she was around any kind of civilization. She certainly couldn't hear anyone from inside, which was a pleasant surprise as, to be honest, she was worried about the wisdom of moving inside the camps themselves after her encounter with Devlon.

She walked to where she'd earlier found her shoes, jacket, and scarf, putting them on as gently as possible to combat her body's resistance, and opened the front door, eyes widening at the sight before her. Illyrians took up her entire vision: sparring in rings, running around on their evening errands, children rolling around in play...it appeared Cassian had taken her to this village after all. Yet...even as she stood at what looked to be the center of this village, there was no sound, no noise, like someone was...muting the world.

Her thoughts were suspended as she sensed him arriving a moment later, the air from his wings drawing a quick air current into the cabin. She pinched her forehead with her fingers in annoyance before eyeing his landing a few feet away, rolling her eyes at the amount of snow he'd kicked up. She caught a breath and blinked.

Snow.

She was fairly certain the camps were still in Night Court territory, but all the buildings and the ground were coated in the soft, white powder, as if it was deep into the winter season and not still full in the lushness of autumn. They must have climbed a much higher altitude than she'd realized.

There was almost a...serene feeling about the view, the undisturbed snow on the rooftops and wells creating a calmness to counteract the rapid behavior of the Illyrians living their lives around them. Her awe was short-lived, however, as the Illyrian male filled up her vision, pushing past her into the same, tiny foyer. She crossed her arms and spun to him, earning a tired glance back. He spoke first – whether out of pride for this village or to prevent a fight before it could begin, she didn't know – and gestured vaguely through the front door behind her.

"Like it?" He gave a soft, tired smile as he kicked off his boots and took off his jacket. She didn't bother with a response, her eyes shifting back to the view outside instead. "If you're wondering about the sound, Rhys put a permanent barrier on this house – otherwise, it can be hard to sleep as Illyrians will train at all hours of the night. The noise doesn't really bother me, but he insisted my future guests might not share the same...apathy. If you're worried about someone breaking in, don't be. It's enchanted so that I can still be able to hear any noises out of the ordinary."

He reached over her head, earning a look of scorn in exchange, and pushed the door shut as he spared her one last, quick glimpse of disbelief. "Speaking of outside, though, I'd hope you weren't planning on going out tonight. I mean...I won't stop you, but they're not exactly thrilled about your presence. You might want to wait a day or two before attempting another one of your...grand entrances." He flashed her a mocking grin, more reserved than usual but setting her blood ablaze all the same. She decided to respond in kind, acerbity dripping from her words.

"Well, I wasn't originally planning on it, but a certain bastard declined to leave me a single morsel of food to eat." Her hands dropped to her hips, and her eyes narrowed. "It was either explore the town or wait for you to get back at who-knows-what gods-forsaken hour of the night."

He raised his eyebrows at her tone, then craned his head around the entryway to the piles of pots and failed dishes in the kitchen before leaning his head back and, to Nesta's great irritation, echoing a booming laugh through the small cabin. Her fade reddened, and she cut him off.

"And what, pray tell, is so funny about me starving for the whole day?"

"Apologies." He gave her a mocking wink to let her know his words were anything but, and she crossed her arms and straightened her back in obstinance. "Do you really not know how to cook?"

"I–" Her face burned further, and her words caught in her mouth as a grin once again lit up his face. She exhaled in irritation and quickly recovered, closing her eyes in contempt. "I've never found the need to learn." It wasn't strictly true, but...she pushed that thought away before it brought with it its accompanying poor memories. She looked back up at Cassian, his grin now almost back to his previous laugh, and pushed past him. "I'm glad you can find such entertainment in something so stupid. I'll be in my room; let me know when dinner is ready."

"Woah, woah."

She sighed as he caught her wrist, pings of electricity shooting up her arm from his touch. She side-eyed him with that look that let him know he was playing with danger, but...she let him tug her back a short distance before yanking her hand from his grip. And she doubted this small fact escaped his attention. She reluctantly turned towards him as he entered the kitchen from the other side of the wooden island, raising an eyebrow at her in challenge.

"I was just surprised and messing with you. Come on." He flipped one of the few pots that had survived her wake in his hands, and beamed at her with his usual arrogance. "I'll teach you how."

"I think I'd rather starve," she deadpanned as she leaned against the island. But she quickly lost this round, going back and forth a few more times before finally giving in after he promised he'd eat both of their portions otherwise.

She looked up at him, concentration lining his brow as he prepared the ingredients, a smirk lining his face as she rolled her eyes at one of his stupid jokes. Being around him...it wasn't as hard as she'd imagined, as she'd feared all those months in Velaris. Even after she'd shunned him for over a year, he was still working with her, sticking by her. She didn't deserve him.

Though he could certainly work on giving instructions, as he kept meandering on and on about unnecessary details. She felt a tug from the back of her mind at his voice, and she closed her eyes as he droned on, letting it drift her back into her memories...

"And what do you suppose this monstrosity is?" Nesta walked up to the campfire Cassian had set up, a giant slate of meat suspended above it. He met her eyes and grinned.

"Boarhide." Nausea rippled through her, and he laughed, gesturing towards a fully-stocked plate on his other side. "Relax, I made you a meal far more fit for your...delicate, female tastes." He winked at her as he dragged out every word, and the entire campsite heard her disdain as she crossed behind him to her plate.

"Delicate?" She eyed him out of the corner of her vision as she sat down beside him. "I wasn't aware that Illyrians brought delicate females to battle with them."

"They do when said female can bring a thousand males to their knees without drawing a blade." She shielded a satisfied smirk at his comments with a bite of her food, and he continued, his voice losing its playful touch. "Do you...are you still...sure...this is what you want? We don't know what could happen tomorrow, what could happen after." His voice lowered. "If there even is an after for either of us."

Her eyes cut back to him, his stare boring into her, and she nodded. "Whatever happens tomorrow with Hybern...this is our best chance at making it through alive." She thought about Feyre and Elain, what the consequences of failure would be, and shook her head. "You can't change my decision."

He sat there softly, the two of them in quiet solace, then pulled her tightly into his chest, laughing at her half-hearted protests. She leaned her head into his body, syncing her breathing with his, and watched his other arm move to pull her in closer.

That's when she first noticed it.

It started as a blip on his arm, but it slowly began pushing its black tendrils out, dripping up his veins and expanding outward like a net. She jumped up in alarm, pushing his body off as she reached out for his arm.

And stuck her hand in the campfire instead.

Pain seared through her left hand as she stumbled backwards, Cassian managing to catch her as she lost balance. She grabbed his right arm tightly to stop the rapid expansion of the black lines, to help him as it...

She stopped in place. The only black ink that lined his arms were his familiar tattoos; the only erratic movement was hers. Her breathing was wild as she observed her surroundings, remembered the cabin, remembered what she was doing, tried to settle down. She pushed back against the island to stabilize herself and cursed at the sudden shock of pain that shot through her hand. Cassian frowned as he gently pulled his arm away to continue soaking the cold cloth she had pulled him away from and pressed it against her hand. The icy touch sparked another round of obscenities, and she shoved Cassian back, earning a sharp rebuke in the process.

"You put your hand in the gas. You need to be caref–"

"I don't need anything from you." She took several steps away from him, eyes like daggers aimed squarely at his chest. To her dismay, the memories of that campfire began flooding back: the panic, the pain...she clenched her eyes shut and backed away further as she shoved the cloth harder against her hand. His voice was shaking as he stepped softly towards her, reaching one hand gently out towards her.

"Nesta, I..."

His expression was crushing her; she needed to get away from this, from him, now. She turned away from him in dismissal. "Forget it. Just let me know when dinner is ready."

"Wait." She was almost to her doorway when she heard him call to her from behind. Her instincts stopped her in place, back still turned, and she heard him sigh, before reluctantly continuing to speak. "I'm gone nearly all day every day, sometimes for days at a time. You're not going to be able to survive without knowing how to cook at least a little. So unless you're planning on attending all of my work with me, I don't care how you learn, but..."

Her hand rested softly on her door handle as she closed the door and cut off his remarks, a dark silence swallowing the rest of his words. She sat down in front of the door, holding tightly to her burnt hand, trembling against the wood behind her. She knew she needed to learn, needed to fend for herself in this city, but...reliving that moment had destroyed her. The sheer terror pouring through her body...she knew she couldn't handle anymore tonight. She'd barely be able to handle herself as is. She took a deep breath and called through the door.

"I guess I'll just starve, then."

He didn't respond. But when the knock for dinner came later that night, she found her meal, a note attached to it, placed next to her door and Cassian nowhere in sight.

5 A.M. Be up.