Chapter 7

When Cassian decided to start teaching her hand-to-hand combat, Nesta showed him what she knew about self-defense, leaving Cassian genuinely impressed. Nesta wasn't even close to being a warrior, but those were good moves for defending herself and getting away safely. He hadn't known that the eldest Archeron sister had that in her.

"You're much better than I expected," he praised her. "Where did you learn that?"

"A woman should at least know how to defend herself," she repeated her mother's and father's words.

"Yes, that's wise, but those aren't clumsy attempts or something self-taught. They're very good moves, like someone who knew what they were doing taught you."

"Someone who knew taught me a long time ago," she nodded without giving him more details. Cassian would never understand the real world because Cassian didn't know the real world.

"Well, then let's expand on what you know, Nes," Cassian agreed.

-o-o-o-

When Nesta entered the private library to find one of the novels she enjoyed reading, the sight that greeted her felt like a punch to the solar plexus, completely unexpected. The scent of jasmine and honey, and the beauty of Elain, who had retained Elena's beauty and even enhanced it. She wanted to cry upon seeing her, imagining her sweet Elena dying. Elena, the sweetest of the three. Seeing the version of Elena that had been created in this world hurt too much.

"Leave," she ordered; she didn't want to see her, she wasn't ready.

Elain flinched at the harshness of her voice, just as Elena would have.

"I... I wanted to see you, Nesta."

"I don't want to see you," she said coldly, crossing her arms to hold herself together.

"Are you enjoying your time here?" Elain tried to speak desperately, as if nothing was wrong.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," she was shutting down, and she knew it.

"Nesta, I know the circumstances that brought you here were terrible, but that doesn't mean you have to feel so defeated by it all."

"Neither you nor anyone else has the right to tell me how to feel. You don't get to rule over my emotions, Elain; I'll feel however the hell I want," she warned. Her Elena would have backed off; her Elena knew when to push and when not to, but this wasn't her Elena. This was Elain, and she wasn't wise enough to heed the bark and step back before she got bitten.

"You know, when you were wasting away, refusing to eat and drink, I stayed by your side. While you withered and prepared to die, I stayed with you. No one suggested you should adapt, or else be sent back to the human territories," Nesta remembered this very clearly, even if it was all part of her fantasy world. It was one of the memories that had spiraled her the most; her family, her psychotherapists, and psychiatrists had to work hard before the memory stopped hurting her so deeply. She had gotten over it long ago, but right now, she felt like that 11-year-old girl again, waking up crying, tortured by those memories.

Elain held her ground, surprisingly.

"I wasn't drinking myself into oblivion or doing... those other things."

"It's called having sex with strangers," she mocked without shame. At 85 years old, modesty and shame were indifferent to her; she refused to feel ashamed of her sexuality, even in this world. "It's not like you're a saintly virgin; you slept with that fiancé of yours who, as soon as you turned Fae, kicked you to the curb because he never loved you." It was cruel, she knew; when her borderline personality disorder flared up, it brought out the worst in her.

To Elain's credit, she didn't dissolve into tears; maybe she wasn't as weak as Nesta remembered.

"Are you angry with me?"

"You joined others in making decisions about my life. You stepped into my place and packed up my things while Rhysand and Feyre told me I was a worthless piece of shit... And you expect something different? The only thing stopping me from wrapping my hands around your neck and showing you just how angry I am is the fact that, even here, you're my sister," she assured her with hard eyes.

"Feyre warned me this could happen."

"Then she's smarter than you for keeping her distance. Get out, Elain," she pointed to the door. "It disgusts me to see you."

"I wanted to see you, I wanted to explain." Elain was trying to stay calm and focused; Nesta noticed.

"But I don't, Elain. I don't want to see you, and I don't want your explanations. GET. OUT."

"We did this because we love you."

"Oh, shove that bullshit up your ass, Elain," she warned with a snort. She felt a great anger, a great anger that Elain looked like her Elena but wasn't her Elena. She was losing control. "You did it because I bothered you."

"It's the truth. We did it because we love you and care about you. And if Dad were here…"

"Your father is not my father," she cut her off directly. Her father wasn't the same as this Elain's and Feyre's. Her father was a hardworking, strong, and good man who loved her unconditionally, not the wretch of this world.

"So, this is about Dad?"

Nesta wouldn't listen anymore.

"Since you don't understand the nice way, don't say I didn't warn you," she strode over to Elain, grabbed her hair, twisting it into her fist, twisted an arm behind her back, and shoved her out of the library. "I told you to get out," she said, slamming the door in her face.

Only when she was out of sight did Nesta feel like she could breathe again. She sat down, and before she could stop it, she was sobbing. She missed Elena and Fernanda. She wanted to go home, even if there was no home to go back to. She had died of old age, and she had to accept that, but not even death would stop her from missing her sisters.

-o-o-o-

When Elain burst into the house's dining room with tangled hair and a tear-streaked face, Cassian and Rhys looked at her in shock.

"I want to go home," the sweet female said with a tearful voice.

Cassian looked at Rhys, who had left the middle Archeron sister before finding Cassian in Windhaven. Rhys was watching Elain with his violet-blue eyes, missing nothing.

"What happened?" Rhys's voice was more of a command than a question.

Elain waved her hand in farewell before throwing open the balcony doors and stepping outside.

"Elain," Rhys called as he and Cassian followed her. Elain was standing by the railing, the breeze ruffling her tangled hair, so different from the perfectly styled look she'd had when she arrived, as if someone had grabbed her by it. Nesta, Cassian thought with horror.

"She's not getting better. She's not even trying," Elain whispered, devastated.

Rhysand turned to Cassian with a serious expression.

Cassian was bewildered; he didn't understand. He had seen it himself—Nesta had made great strides. She was better, softer, happier, more serene, and calmer. He didn't understand at all.

"Something must have happened. She's been much calmer." Cassian mentally reassured his brother, as Rhys looked like death incarnate " It will take time. Maybe there won't be any more visits from her sisters for now. At least not until Nesta wants it." he told Rhys, because something told him that the trigger had been these visits. He remembered when he refused to let Feyre be the one to accompany them in the hypothetical training case, and now he had reacted poorly to Elain. He didn't want to isolate Nesta; that wasn't his intention, but it seemed that certain stimuli were affecting Nesta badly "If Elain wants to see her again, I'll ask Nesta first."

" And Feyre? "

" Nes doesn't want Feyre here. "

Power rumbled through Rhys, making his eyes flash like starlight.

" Calm down, Rhys. Nesta has to work through her own shit, and she has to do it at her own pace. Threatening her won't make her do it at the pace you want, " Cassian told him firmly.

Rhys and Cassian stared at each other, but Cassian held his gaze. He knew what he had seen, who Nesta was when she was away from Elain and Feyre. Rhys hadn't seen it, but he had. Nesta cared about others, she had empathy, and she even knew how to ask for help. Rhys eventually relented and withdrew with Elain. Once they were gone and out of sight, Cassian hurried into the house to find Nesta.

He wanted to scold her for making Elain cry, but he couldn't say a word when he entered the library and saw her crying while hugging herself. His Nesta looked fragile. When Nesta lifted her face and looked at him with tear-filled eyes and a trembling lip, Cassian knelt beside her and caught the woman who threw herself into his arms, sobbing. Cassian cradled her, not knowing what to do, his heart aching for Nesta, unsure of how to help.

"Don't let her come back. I don't want to see them," Nesta pleaded, trembling as she sobbed.

"They won't come back, not until you're ready," he whispered, rocking her gently. "What happened?" he asked in a whisper.

"I asked her to leave, but she wouldn't. I grabbed her by the hair and threw her out," she sobbed. "I didn't want to hurt her," she assured him, looking at Cassian with sad, tear-filled eyes. "But I didn't want to see her, and she wouldn't leave, she kept tormenting me."

"It's okay, Nesta, it's over now," he whispered, his heart breaking as he cradled her. Elain and Feyre were her sisters; Nesta couldn't ignore them forever—it wouldn't be healthy. Cassian just wanted to take away all the pain that was so obvious, but he couldn't. He comforted her for a long time afterward. That night wasn't a good one. The stress had made Nesta's body crave alcohol, and she begged Cassian to help her.

Cassian had never felt more helpless in his life.

-o-o-o-

As a human, Nesta was in her final years of life, the so-called golden years, and her sisters were with her, because Elena and Fernanda are counterparts to Feyre and Elain, so they are the same age. For Nesta, seeing Elain or Feyre is like facing the fact that her sisters must also have died in "her world," and although she logically understands that it is natural, the older sister in her still suffers from the loss.