A/N: Chapter three! Enjoy:)
Azriel remembers the exact moment his bond with Nesta snapped into place; that first inhale of breath after it. How cold and crisp it had seemed; like her, maybe. For a brief moment, he had seen it all unfurl in his mind. If he were not in love with another, if her sister did not call to him so, if his brother did not so clearly desire her with every bone in his body...how they might tell their story.
But it had only been for a moment, and every one after only further solidified what he knew: this bond would not be a traditional one.
That doesn't make it any better when it breaks with her death.
It takes him back to that first breath with Nesta, this first breath without her. It hurts to breathe, and then it doesn't get better-it gets worse. Because Rhys asks him what's wrong.
And now he has to be the one to tell them. Feyre, so nervous and guilty all the time now. Cassian, utterly heartbroken and trying his best not to let it show. And Elain, hiding from him.
And the knowledge that this...empathy, this innate knowing of his family's feelings...that that is-was Nesta's. Nesta, and how she saw everything about everyone and catalogued it and sometimes felt it herself...that is gone. He'll never have that again. That...caring.
But she was his only chance. He was never going to feel joy so easily like Mor; he's always known that. But Nesta, though she did not know, helped him see it more clearly. Recognize the light in the world, even when she was in such a dark place herself. He had never thanked her. Never even...
"Az?" Rhys says again, putting a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back. He blinks to see Feyre and Cassian looking at him, concerned.
He can't meet their gaze. Shit. Shit. How did this-he should've seen, should've known. Felt it, perhaps. But now there's only this void, this nothing where Nesta once lay-
"Sit down," Cassian says, moving him into a chair. "Mor-yeah. Az, drink this."
Oh, Mother, how's he going to tell Cassian? How can he do this?
"No," he croaks, pushing Cassian's hand away. So generous and caring, even though his bond with Nesta hurt him so much. Azriel doesn't deserve him.
"What is it?"
He can't do it. He can't. This is the cruelest twist of fate there is, surely. Cassian doesn't deserve this. Azriel shouldn't be the one to tell him-it shouldn't be happening at all-how did this even happen?
"Az!" Cassian slaps him in the face.
"You think that's going to help?" Feyre demands. "He obviously needs a healer."
"No," he says, more forcefully, standing up. "I...we have to...sit. Stay here a moment." He needs to get a grip on himself. Send a shadow to tell Nuala to get Elain and seat her here, too. She and Feyre should be together for this. And Amren...she had been Nesta's friend, once.
How is this falling to him? How is he supposed to do this?
A few minutes pass until Elain shuffles into the room, exchanging a bewildered look with Feyre. They still do not know. They haven't even asked him if this is something to do with Nesta.
But he has to tell them. Now.
He's the worst person in the world for this. He wishes, so intensely it burns, that she were here. What he wouldn't give for her perception right now-how cruel that he does not get to keep a part of her-as if it should have been him who had gotten any of her, when it so clearly was the wrong choice this whole time-
"Azriel?" Elain's soft voice calls him back. She hasn't spoken to him in a week. This is their first conversation in a week. He doesn't doubt it will be their last.
Everyone he loves is gathered around him, sitting, gazing at him. Only Amren's head is turned, staring at nothing. Perhaps she's figured it out.
He takes a deep breath-dull, stale, so unlike that fresh one months ago.
"I'm so sorry to tell you this," he says, voice quiet. He forces himself to meet Elain's eye. She reaches a hand out to Feyre, like she can feel what's coming. Perhaps she can See it. He swallows, daring a glance at Cassian. It's too much to say-he can't force the words. "The bond broke a few minutes ago." He stops for breath. Can't look. Can't do this. "I can't feel Nesta anymore." Don't look. Don't. "She's gone."
When Azriel was a child, he was left largely to grow in a darkened room by himself. He would be let out for an hour a day, and once a week he was permitted to see his mother. So either the Mother has extended Her mercy upon him by allowing him to answer the shadows that beckoned him or he managed to wring life in the darkness by his own sheer will, but either way, that power eludes him now. Every second that passes is excruciating, perfect in its misery and pain, and there is no reprieve. Every second anew brings Elain's screaming sobs, Feyre's hyperventilating, and the dead, broken look in Cassian's eyes. Over and over again, endlessly, and he thinks it's all he'll hear and see forever.
Until she walks in the door.
Nesta stomps her way out of the house, fuming to herself. She ripped herself apart, and for what? It's what everyone wanted, so why are they acting like this is a greater sin than the existence of the bond she has severed? Surely this is what they all wanted. But instead she gets Elain's tears and Feyre's self-righteous horror and Azriel won't look at her and Cassian's not even there.
She isn't crazy. This was what everyone wanted. This was the only way they could go back to...what they had before. That wasn't perfect, and it certainly wasn't normal, but it was better than the alternative.
Her rage clouds her vision as she leaves the house, she nearly misses the bit of ripple in the shadows of her sister's garden behind her.
"You!" she calls out angrily, whipping around before she even realizes what she's doing. "You come back here!"
Azriel steps out of nothing, bowing his head, his hands clasped together in front of him, the picture of submission. But his scarring, his massive wings, the knives she can see hidden on his person make him look like a parody of a manservant. She remembers the fear she felt for herself and Elain when he first stepped into her father's house, but that's gone now.
After a few seconds of silence, he says, "Can I help you with anything?"
She can't help herself. She laughs bitterly. "You are so full of shit." She shakes her head, laughing still, mockingly, as she settles down in the shade of a tree.
She can see Azriel hesitate in her periphery. He can't stand her, she knows. But he doesn't want to leave her here, near mad in his eyes, out of obligation to Feyre.
"You got off easy, you know," she says to him. "You didn't have to do anything. I did all the work."
She closes her eyes and tilts her head back. He's quiet, and she thinks he's gone. But then he says, the rage in his voice almost mirroring what she feels inside, "If you think it was easy feeling the bond severed, and knowing it meant that you were dead, and feeling that alone in front of your sisters and Cassian, you are out of your mind, and maybe as selfish as Rhys thinks you are."
Nesta's eyes snap open. She stares at him, frozen for a moment before she feels her cheeks color a bit. She does not cower under his unblinking gaze, but it takes her by surprise.
"You didn't want the bond," she says.
He doesn't say anything. He never does, Nesta thinks to herself. And she'd get lost inside of herself with someone as quiet as him.
But then he sits down next to her. "I didn't," he says softly. "But I didn't want you to die."
"I didn't die."
"Well, we didn't know that then."
Nesta turns her head to his. "I was the worst person you could imagine to be bonded to," she says. "You hated me. You're happy with this."
He is quiet for more than a few seconds. "You are not the worst person I could imagine. You're not a bad person. And I certainly don't hate you. I admire you. But yes...I think we'll both be happier without this."
Nesta releases a breath she has been holding subconsciously. "We're not right for each other."
"I agree."
"Then why is everyone acting this way," she says, shaking voice falling flat, because she doesn't care about everyone.
"Because it was dangerous."
That makes Nesta want to scream. "How come everyone's choices get respected, danger aside, except mine?" she demands. "And don't tell me that I took away your choice, because you wanted this too."
"I understand your frustration," he says, and she knows he's not trying to be condescending, that that's just how he talks, but all things Holy, it irritates her. "I'm sure you understand Elain and Cassian's emotions better than I do. You're incredibly empathetic."
She wants to reply, but she can't. He said his name, and she doesn't trust her tongue enough to open her mouth.
"I admire your tenacity," Azriel says, sitting down next to her, "and insightfulness and cunning and nerve. I've felt your soul. I know how deeply you feel. I can imagine how hurt you are. The time you and I were...bonded, it taught me how to feel out other people's emotions. I...value that. I value you for that."
She hates him for being the first person to say that to her. She hates him for being the one who's come after her.
"Some advice...about Cassian," he says, voice low. She stills. "He likes to take care of those he loves. He doesn't always realize what he needs, though."
What he needs, she grumbles to herself. What about what she needs? Has anyone offered Nesta an apology, a cup of tea, a shower?
"It's so odd," Azriel says, a faint smile on his lips.
"What?"
"To see you...and know you must be thinking something. But not be able to tell anymore. You appear quite impassive, you know."
Nesta tuts. "Look who's talking."
"Touché," he says, and she's almost calm enough to laugh.
"I'm not impassive," she says softly.
"I know. You just appear that way." He hesitates. Considers his words carefully. "I don't think...anyone believes you're emotionless, Nesta."
"I don't care," she says automatically.
"I never minded your quiet," he continues, as though she had not spoken, "but you should know that Cassian likes to talk. About emotions. Sometimes."
"Stop talking about him."
He shrugs and settles into silence beside her. They stay that way for a few minutes, before Nesta breaks it.
"I suppose...Elain's feeling guilty. And hurt. Though I don't think she has good enough reason to be," she adds. "But..."
But Cassian should have come back by now. Morrigan has told him she is here. So where is he?
"If you don't think she has reason to be hurt, are you going to talk to her?"
Nesta thinks. "Yes," she decides, standing up.
"Right now? I thought you said it was best to give her space-"
"She's had enough space. I'm sick of waiting. Enough of my life has been wasted on this rubbish. No offense," she adds after a beat.
He grins, wider than she's ever seen him. "None taken."
"I'm going to talk to her now," she says. "You can talk to her after, if you'd like. Or don't. I don't care."
"You know, Nesta," he says, walking beside her up back to the house. "I consider you a friend."
She stops to look at him. "You're all right, I suppose," she says finally. She falters in the doorway and turns back around to face him. "Actually. I'm glad it was you."
His eyes widen slightly and she hurries to explain. "So we could break it," she says. "And now we're free. Forever. And we're fine."
"If you want to talk to Cassian," he says, walking backwards towards the house's shadows, "I suggest you do so sometime today."
He disappears into nothing, but she's already inside, rushing to find her sister. This ends today.
A/N: I'd love to hear your thoughts!