#postacofas

[ekaterinakostrova]

“She wanted to be able to talk to him in his own language, and that desire was a terrible pain”.

Her lips formed words, fingers touched old pages. So many unfamiliar words, but already familiar letters. It became a ritual for her. Sometimes she read historical chronicles about cruel and desperate generals, about the greatest warriors, conquerors of the wind; she read stories of formidable battles and vile creatures that fell by the swords of the brave rulers of mountains, read legends about star-crossed lovers... Among all of these books, she could find slim volumes of poetry. Words enchanted her, phrases intoxicated her.

And then she heard his speech. She had already heard the Illyrian language among native speakers, but when he spoke, something inside her began to tremble. It was like a bolt of lightning, a burning cold sliding over her spine. Such a melodic language and his soft tone, a deep and low voice. He spoke, and they listened to him, valued his every word. Words that sounded so naturally on his lips.

Emerie helped her find some books that she could read after mastering the alphabet, sometimes trying to explain the structure of sentences, but she still lacked written sources.

“No one on the continent studies Illyrian intentionally, so you won’t be able to find a single well-written textbook in a common language,” Emerie once said, cutting the dark fabric into pieces with a sharp pair of silver scissors.

“Why?” Nesta asked with interest, looking up at the girl.

Emery blew out a long sigh.

“Why would anyone mess with the most brutal warriors on the continent? Everyone is terrified of my people, and the elders are too stubborn to let strangers into our lands”.

Nesta frowned.

“Women of the clans sew real works of art. I am sure that many noble families among all Courts on the continent would like to buy clothes with Illyrian’s national embroidery. In some clans, large gems are mined. They could develop market, and so many people could finally find a job.

Emerie grinned bitterly.

“Tell the old man about it, and I'll see, what he will do with you after that.”

And Nesta wanted to. But more than that, she wanted to fill the oppressive silence in the house. Sometimes Cassian would come back in the middle of the night, when she was already in her room. She peered at the hazy shifty visage night after night. She knew that he had done it deliberately, so that he would not accidentally meet with her in the house. He was trying to avoid her. Their last fight was not just a simple quarrel, they both allowed themselves to hurt each other with words, deeply.

Sometimes she listened to the fierce melody of the wandering storm outside, waiting for the sound of heavy wings, the echoes from the creaking floorboards, and his tired sigh. Sometimes she fell asleep on the sofa by the fire, waiting for him to return. And while she was sleeping, she imagined him flying in the black sky, a cascade of snow coming down, hiding the horizon behind it.  

She rarely stayed in the living room, still feeling like an intruder in his house, but this night the storm was particularly strong, and there was nothing she could do about her restless heart. She listened to the menacing swirls of the strong wind beating against the glass.

She looked down at the books on the massive wooden table, peered at the fascinating patterns of letters, ran her fingers along the handwritten pages, as if she could feel the hands that had painted the once clean, light pages. The Illyrian language was surprisingly refined, like fine art. Nesta saw the notes that Cassian left on papers, and was amazed that his strong hands, which easily broke other people's bones, could write out neat curls of letters that formed words.

She looked down at her pages with writing and grimaced. Her letters were crooked, and the handwriting was sloppy, rushed and untidy.

She took a deep breath and started again. She wrote until her fingers ached and her palms were covered with dark streaks of ink. Then she tried to read the first few stanzas in the book, trying to remember how Emerie used to say the words of greeting that Illyrians exchange with each other.

“I salute you, may your path be easy and your heart be serene.”

She took a deep breath and tried again.

“Eine kaste corte, de la vonte lineus, sum meri altus”.

Nesta frowned, trying to remember the correct intonation with which Emerie had read the sentence.

“Eine kaste corte…de la vonte lineus…”.

And it sounded so wrong on her lips. But… she was patient.

Nesta was trying to finish the sentence, when suddenly she heard fluent Illyrian speech, and her heart skipped a beat.

“Eine vileus corte ir woste famus”.

She met deep, dark brown eyes that turned almost black in the shadows. Dark, curly locks of wet hair fell over his handsome face, and his piercing gaze met with her pale gray eyes. Her lips parted slightly. They lived under the same roof, but the feeling of tension did not subside after their last argument, and they both avoided each other.

Nesta blinked, breaking eye contact and looking down at her soiled hands.

“I don't know what your words mean,” she admitted, feeling a warm blush creep over her cheekbones.

“I welcome you to my home.” This is what they say when they invite guests to their home.

For a long moment, a deafening silence enveloped them. She wanted to be with him, she was happy that he came back. She wanted to breathe in his scent that she longed for, wanted to look at him and memorize his features until her eyes ached. But she stared at her hands, refusing to obey her instinct. The desire she wanted to get rid of.

“Never knew you were learning Illyrian. Why would you do that? A large number of Illyrians know the common language too.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Not all of them. People close to noble families can speak the common language, and many women and children do not understand me. If I'm going to live here, I need to know the language that people speak, don't I? Otherwise, I will remain a foreign witch.

She felt the air crackle with his anger; his eyes had gone molten with a suppressed rage that seems to suck all the air out of the atmosphere.

“What did they tell you?”

She looked up at him because she couldn't stop herself. And Nesta was surprised to see faint echoes of fear in the depths of the hazel eyes.

“Nothing,” she whispered faintly, hiding behind the pages of her books. No one would take her words seriously; no one of elders would give her the word to stand up for the rights of children and women.

But there was another reason, entirely selfish reason. She wanted to be able to talk to him in his own language, and that desire was a terrible pain.

She kept her gaze glued to the table because if she looked at him she might be lost.

“I'll make some tea,” Nesta said sharply, rising from the table, not daring to endure the oppressive silence of the room any longer.  She had to get away from him, from his soft voice.

She put the kettle on the stove, lighting the burner. So much time has passed, and many things have become familiar, almost native. She was used to the smell of black coffee and toast in the morning, used to the smell of Jasmine tea that Cassian brewed in the morning. She was used to seeing him at work, and it seemed that he could not afford a moment of peace to himself. Sometimes she saw him oiling and polishing heavy swords, but never in the house, as if the house he had built with his own hands was his fortress. His hiding place from the rest of the world.

This house felt different with him in it. She felt different. It was the way he looked at her, as if he could devour her any minute. 

When she returned to the living room with a wooden tray containing two mugs of hot tea, Cassian was sitting at the table, looking at her notes.

“Your handwriting is beautiful,” he said.

She made a face as she put the tray on the table.

“I'm telling the truth,” he said, grinning widely. “I also brought you something,” he said, nodding toward a stack of leather-bound volumes.

“What is it?” she asked, picking up one of the books and flipping through the pages, the handwriting was familiar.

“These are my notebooks when I was learning the common language. I thought you might need them. I started with the alphabet, too, and my notes weren't as neat and consistent as yours,” he said, keeping his gaze on her. He knew. He knew what he did to her when she looked into his eyes.

“When did you start learning a common language?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I think I was a little older than you”.

“Why?”

He chuckled.

“I wanted to get out of here. I wanted to see the world, wanted to become someone”.

She remembered the little boy who had snatched the bread from the counter at the market. She remembered how fiercely and hopelessly he had pressed his fingers into a loaf of bread.

Hunger.

Coldness.

She was familiar with these feelings. He was just a little child. The top of his head barely reaching her knees. In the reflection of his eyes, she saw a grown man who had known too much pain.

She shuddered, remembering that day.

She could not imagine what Cassian’s life was like in these mountains, among these cruel warriors.

“Who taught you?”

“Firstly, I learned it by myself. Books were a luxury. In my time, I could buy a warm jacket or boots, a hearty dinner and find a safe place for a night for one of such books”.

He picked up one of her notebooks, looking at her notes with interest.

“Later, Rhysand’s mother gave me lessons”.

Nesta fixed her gaze on the map he had drawn in his notebook, running her fingers over the letters, with the names of seas, oceans, and distant continents. Did he dream of traveling around the world as much as she did?

It was more than she could ask for.  

“Thank you”.

He grinned again, a slow, beautiful smile that sent her heart clenching hard.

“I could help you, if that's what you want.”

She clutched a leather-bound book.

“It would be my pleasure.”

#nessian #nesta archeron #nesta #cassian #postacofas #acotar

[creativewithoutanoutlet]

Just a little reminder that; even though Nesta wasn’t/isn’t happy about being fae, she still took the time to get Amren to explain the history of the land, and the courts, etc... so that she could understand what she is and the world she’s coming into.

She’s preparing herself and her arsenal for future encounters with members from other courts. She’s a Queen preparing for battle, whether she knows it or not.

#acofas spoilers #nesta #nesta archeron #night court #postacofas #justice for nesta #acowar

[neris-erista-acotarseries]

Waiting for Nesta to have her ‘Defying Gravity’ moment, like Elphaba in Wicked, in the next book like;

#nesta #nesta archeron #justice for nesta #she needs her own goddam court #postacofas

[ekaterinakostrova]

“I can feel this fear in your blood; hear it in your heartbeat”.

“She had to do something. She did not have gold or lands, or castles, or anything she could offer to him so that she could redeem this poor child. He was just a little boy. There was nothing that she could offer to this man.

The air burned her lungs in these icy mountains. The midday sun glided along the mountain ranges, freezing on the adamantine peaks of the rocky cliffs.

She did not know the true horror and fear before. All the nightmares that appeared to her at night could not be compared with such a horrible reality. The loud, horrific cries of children left to die in the mud in cold ground. Cassian told her once, how his people were dealing with the bastards. Some were thrown alive from the rocks, others were torn to pieces by the creatures living deep in dense forests, and someone were left on the ground without the limbs with blood splashing everywhere.... 

They cut off their fingers, and then chopped off their hands and feet, and then set fire to their wings¸ and the children burned alive in the fire.

In ancient times, the Illyrians chose the most powerful warrior among the clan and called him as their leader. They raised their swords to the glory of their new master, respecting the power of one warrior over their lives and families. Centuries have passed, and one family strengthened its power. It became so powerful that influence of one leader was indissoluble and unshakable. The head of the household was called as the war lord.

One clan absorbed another for the sake of lands, and after for the sake of more selfish reasons - power, influence, strength. Strength was everything for all of the Illyrians – the most solid foundation for achieving greater unity and solidarity among all the clans. Those clans were eager to destroy everybody and everything in its path. The leaders of these clans were hungry snakes, ready to devour their own kind.

She watched Kallon. Kallon with a smile of a jackal on his lips. Watched as this man piercing the boy’s back with a black dagger with a gold hilt. She heard as a cry of pain burned the air. Even cattle were slaughtered with less cruelty. Hot blood spattered his face while his boot rested on the back of the boy. He pressed the child to the ground, stopping him from moving. One man’s hand held tightly to the wing, and the other cut the wing from the back of the child. There was so much blood that the man's dark camisole took on a deep crimson hue.

Nausea came up to her throat. She could barely stand. Her hands were trembling, her knees buckled. She looked at the tent, where all the war lords gathered, but not one of them moved while the warrior’s dagger cut the flesh of the child; not one of them attempted to stop Kallon, whose hands separating the flesh from the bones, the wing from the back. The Lord of the Night Court continued his conversation with the leader of one of the clans.

An emotion of disgust froze on Cassian's face.

He had no right to interfere in the actions of one of the members of the ruling family. Cassian was the General of the Night Court, but for the ruling leaders of the Illyrian clans, he remained a bastard.

The fruit of sin.

The spawn.

She felt the tension rise immediately.

Women took their children to the tents. The soldiers silently watching the execution. Nesta was deafened by a terrible, exhausted scream.

Her legs moved instinctively. It was one those moments, when the body moves by itself in order to survive on the battlefield. And for her, Kallon became that rattlesnake. And she was going to chop off its head.

She attacked him with a cry, throwing him aside with the weight of her body. She knew the reason of this bloody scene. All of this was for Cassian. Cassian, who was an insignificant bastard. Cassian, who was the right hand of the Lord of the Night Court. Cassian, who was one of Illyria's most powerful warriors in the history. Cassian, who was a miserable bastard unworthy of life.

“I'll kill you!”

She screamed, tearing apart his leather uniforms with her strong, immortal fingers, ripping apart golden chains and sapphire stones decorating his expensive clothes. She tore the skin on her knuckles and her pale hands were in his dirty blood. She repeatedly punched the beautiful shape of his nose and strong jaw. And for the first time after her rebirth, she was grateful for the strength of her new body.

Excitement seethed and smoldered in her veins as she was tearing the skin on his chest with her fingernails, trying to reach his ribs and then rip out his poisoned heart. His hot blood coated her hands.

“Take this viper away from me!”

Several men grabbed her by the shoulders, and while she was trying to fend off their strong hands, she broke the jaw of one of them.

“Crap!” - Kallon hissed, spitting hot blood on the ground. “Bastard’s whore!”

Her mind was flooded with anger and pure rage. The flames raced through her body. She could not think, when she cried out words that pierced the air, like lightning.

“Duel,” - she screamed, trying to break free from the grip of the Illyrian warriors. “I demand a duel with the noble as the winner of the Blood Rite!”

His mouth curved, as if she'd said something funny. Kallon began to laugh hysterically. His smile bore a hint of mockery. And then again she saw that sparkle in his eyes. She had already seen this dark gleam in his eyes, when he first saw her with Cassian.

“Whore! You think that if you came out of the Blood Rite alive, you have the right to speak with me as an equal. Apparently your master did not teach how to keep your mouth shut in bed.

The wind stopped. Even the clouds seemed to freeze.

His tone a blade that whispered warning.

“Even if the elders give you a permission to fight with me, I have the right to reject the fight. After all, what will I get in return after accepting your challenge? You know the rules that both opponents have to offer something to the rival”.

She refused to look away. Death whispered in her ear.

“The life of this child, I want your warriors and your people! You will let them go. That is what I want and that is what I’m going to take from you.”

And when Kallon walked to stand less than a foot from her.

Nesta's instincts were screaming at her to grab the knife in her boot, but she forced herself to stay in place. She wouldn't crawl, not for anyone. 

Kallon's face changed, he came closer to her while his warriors held her hands, and then bowed her to the ground, until she was kneeled before him.

“My clan, my people, my lands. And what are you going to offer in return? You have nothing. You might be a nice plaything for one night, but I won't bargain with you for my entire clan if it’s all what you can offer.”

He took her chin between his fingers. Cold knuckles running along her skin. She met his eyes, forced herself to hold her ground.

“Who told you that you have the right to be here and speak? Who told you that you have the right to look into my eyes? You walk among us, eat among us, sleep in our tents. We let the witch to walk among us, made her one of us,” he shouted to the crowd gathered around them.

“It is precisely because of such a vicious leader as the current High Lord of the Night Court. We allow strangers to dictate their rules into our lands. We allowed the bastard to become the General that leads our warriors on the battlefield. So many women and daughters are left alone. We are the greatest army, which is ready to establish its own rules on the lands of Prythian. Illyrians paid its debt to the Night Court from the day when the first clan led by Enalius set foot on this land. These lands, these mountains, these forests belong to Illyria. We spilled enough blood for the Night Court and its ruthless leaders!

Nesta lowered her head and said calmly.

“You are afraid of me”.

The men's hands stilled on her shoulders, she felt their eyes focused on Kallon.

“I can feel this fear in your blood; hear it in your heartbeat”.

Open interest showed on his face.

“A poisonous viper, I had to chop off your head before you stepped on the lands of my clan before you open your filthy mouth.”

“That's right,” she admitted, giving him a teasing grin. She tried to piss him off; she knew too well, how to get a rise out of him. “But the head of the viper spits poison even after it is chopped off.”

He stared at her back.

“She has the right to fight as a winner,” Devlon announced loudly, arms crossed over his strong chest.

Nesta did not dare to turn around. She only felt his eyes on her back. Cassian.

Kallon grinned viciously, and Devlon continued.

“If you think that this girl needs to be taught a lesson, then teach her properly. Show her then. Show everyone, what we should do with those, who dictate their rules to us”.

His eyes narrowed. 

“This snake has nothing to offer me in return.”

Kallon turned around on the heels of his shiny, leather boots. These boots were soaked in the blood of a child, still trembling on the cold ground. His moans still echoing in her ears, still burning the air.

Nesta swallowed.

“I have something to offer you. And my offer will be the most profitable in your life! You have been expecting such an offer for so many decades. You will have a chance to revenge.”

Kallon turned around.

“And what are you ready to offer me?”

“Myself”.

He laughed, the sound full of dark, and then he took a deep breath.

“What for?”

She hissed, rising from her knees, despite the hands holding her.

“I am the one, who took the King’s life. I am the one, who survived in the ageless darkness and the one, who swallowed the darkness of the Cauldron, took it into my veins, into my blood. Steel became my body, and flame became my blood. To own me means to own the world”.

He grinned. His eyes gleamed, but all he said was:

“I don't need Cassian's whore.”

She had to make a decision. She would not have a second chance.

“I'm not his whore,” she shouted. “I'm his mate!”

Kallon’s expression held pure shock. His eyes froze on her face, in the depth of the seething rage of her silver-blue eyes. A wave of whispers swept along the ranks of the Illyrians.

“Such an appropriate lie,” he finally whispered.

“You don't believe me, then, ask the Morrigan.”

She lifted her face to feel the full onslaught of the wind. It felt good on her skin. The sensation made her feel brave, fearless, and she has nothing left to lose by releasing this, by revealing the truth. 

Nesta took more air into her lungs before screaming:

“Tell them Morrigan! Tell them all the truth! You are the one, who tells the truth and nothing but the truth. Tell them what you see! Tell them all, what kind of beast I am! Let them all see, who I am!”

She could imagine it. She could imagine the emotion of horror on Morrrigan's face.

Then she heard the thunderous approach of his steps, the heat of his strength, burning the air around. Her breath caught in her throat. Kallon cast a glance at Cassian approaching them, saw something in his eyes. His own eyes light up.

The men removed their hands from her shoulders: they were a shackle around her upper arms, when they saw the promise of death in the eyes of the General of the Night Court.

She fought the urge to turn around. She fought the urge to see his face.

“You have to decide faster, Kallon,” she whispered, not looking back at Cassian. She could smell him; hear the beat of his heart.

Kallon looked into the eyes of the General of the Night Court, saw something on his face. And that was the moment, when he believed her. His lips curved upward in a feral smile, when he said:

“I accept your offer, Nesta Archeron”.

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #postacofas #acotar

[ekaterinakostrova]

How would Cassian react to a friendship blooming between Nesta and Eris?

I want this moment in a very epic way.

At the end of Acofas, Nesta is driven out of Velaris. 

And the last scene was really terrible for me, because I could literally feel the burden of her loneliness and confusion. She realized that nobody wanted her. And how painful it is to realize that you have no longer a place that you can call your home. 

Nesta is destroyed as a person, and I cannot forgive the coldness of the members of the Inner Circle.

Nesta does not tell much to other people about herself, and rarely shares her true feelings. She is trying to overcome her fears on her own. And I would love to see the particular scene of her returning to Velaris, but as a strong and confident person. 

I want her back as a woman, who has influence and power. I want her to return to Velaris, not just as a sister of the High Lady, but as a significant figure. A person to be reckoned with.

Keir is going to visit Velaris in the spring, and at this time of the year Nesta has a birthday, and this is also the time that the Blood Rite passes. I sincerely hope that Nesta would not only tame the creatures living in the very depths of the Illyrian Mountains, but also return, accepting a her new self, accepting her new nature.

And I hope that Nesta would be able to become something powerful and important for all of Illyria and its people.

“A city of night and stars that woke up in the night. 

She walked slowly along the snow-white marble, absorbing the silver light of the moon. The night air chilled her bare shoulders, the amethyst material of her bloody red dress flowed down the bright stairs. 

A diadem with large garnet gemstones was heavy. Long ruby ​​earrings in her ears caught the glimmer of light of the awakening city of night.

She heard the sound of music coming from the ballroom. She saw the light illuminating tall marble pillars decorated with lace murals.

Her heart was beating fast, but the anticipation of war was born within her. Excitement, which she had not felt before rising in her. Heavy jewelry in the shape of wings are woven into the golden braids of her hair. A gift from women of the northern clan of Illyria.

The bodice of her red dress encircled her breasts, was embroidered with a myriad of scarlet stones. A dress that she would have considered too frank before. However, when she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she did not recognize herself.

White skin, full red lips. Pride in a dark silver pool of her eyes.

Something inside her broke off, when she peered into her reflection, because a strong female was looking at her. Black tattoos of Illyria covered her back. Emerie made her tp choose the red dress. The colour of fire, power and revolution.

“Now you are the daughter of Illyria,” Devlon kept his face completely expressionless.

He paused before uttering the following words, speaking them softly so that only she could hear them.

"Welcome to the Windhaven, Nesta Archeron".

His words after the Blood Rite. 

And at that moment, something between them changed, as everything in the Windhaven changed. She felt a change in a whisper behind her. Anger and hatred were replaced by admiration ... 

The first female-warrior, who returned from the bonds of dark forests and mountains, who survived in The Blood Rite. The men in the war camp had looked at her before, but now they looked at her differently. She well knew the meaning of this look.

They all looked at her as if she was something ephemeral.

Velaris is a city of night and beauty, a city of midnight pleasures and sin. The city of black magic and shadows, the city of music and love.

She never allowed others to see her weakness, and because of that, when she came out into the light of the ballroom, she raised her chin higher.

She has no master, just as there is no fear of the darkness that longed to devour the city of night.

Gems and gold shone in her silky hair.

Light covered her naked shoulders. And she allowed every look to freeze in this snow-white palace, even the music was quiet.

She took a step forward, stopping at the long stairs leading down. Her dress is like burning blood.

She did not lower her eyes, feeling the gaze of the High Lord of the Night Court.

Everything has changed now. She knows who she is now. There is no monster that her heart would fear, because she was the most dangerous beast of these lands.

The High Lord of the Night Court knows nothing about the true darkness. 

The Shadowsinger knows nothing about whispers of shadows.

The Lord of Bloodshed knows nothing about the Death. 

She is the Mistress of horrible nightmares and dark illusions, and horrific, beautiful shadows are her minions. The most terrible beasts of Illyria are under her control. All of them. She is the core of pure darkness. 

But tonight, she wasn't a witchcrafter. She was something else, a symbol of beauty, a symbol of desire. 

She went down the stairs, and every look was turned only to her alone.

“I'm glad you were able to accept my invitation’.

Eris.

He smiled and her breath stilled, caught in her lungs as his gaze drifted possessively over her, hot, filled with naked desire.

She has to do it. She will overthrow her enemies, even if it makes all of them hate her. Let them hate, let them despise her.

Eris held out his hand to her.

Nesta remembered what her mother was saying. Always cold, detached... but her hands were warm, when she cuped her crying face. And she vowed that no one would see her tears. No one will hear her suffering, no one will hear her cry of despair. 

She must be strong, she must be stronger than anyone if she wants to protect those, who are dear to her.

She took his hand.

“I'm happy to see you again, Nesta Archeron.”

She looked up at him. 

Eris closed his eyes briefly and then opened them to meet her steady gaze. 

“Nesta”.

His voice was low and compelling, washing through her body like the touch of fingers on skin. 

He whispered then.

"With you, Nesta Archeron, I do not trust myself". 

"There are things you don't know about me, Eris Vanserra".

But then she felt this rage...

She made herself not to turn around, although she felt his closeness. She felt it. He took a deep breath and let it out. She frowned, her pulse thundered in her ears.

Cassian.  

He was here...

Nesta tried to quell the panic rising rapidly. 

Cassian was angry. She could feel the anger churning in his gut, riding him hard as he struggled for control.

"There is no time, Eris".

She reached out instinctively to him, gripping his hand. Eris wrapped his arm around her naked shoulders.

"Do not panic. We'll get you through this together as we planned before".

#nessian #nesta archeron #nesta #cassian #eris vanserra #nerista #the inner circle #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #postacofas

[ekaterinakostrova]

Please post something Nessian

Thick ink shadows covered his face, the glow of copper and amethyst fire washed his skin.

His features became softer in the deep sleep.

Nesta looked at his sleeping face, listened to measured breathing, felt the steady beat of his heart underneath her fingertips, and involuntarily pressed closer to him, touching her hips to his strong legs.

She loved to feel the heat of his skin on her body, the strength of his muscles, to feel the scars enveloping his strong chest and back under her palms. She blissfully touched his chin with her lips, drawing a wet, straight line along his cheekbone.

No one understands the endless warmth revealing in her heart - she slowly breath in the scent of his dark silky hair. This is a strange feeling comparable to a deadly disease.

The feeling that she had tried to hide and destroy in her heart, the bond that she so longed to destroy in her mind. This feeling is free now.

And she enjoyed every moment of freedom, every second of it.

Did he know how she dreamed about this moment of peace?

Her hand slowly reached towards his face. She traced a line along his eyebrow with her fingertip, it was so soft as satin material in the sun.

She ran the tip of her index finger along the bridge of his nose; sank lower, touching his full lips.

She wanted to sleep so much, but did not dare to close her eyes, fearing that this moment would be just a sweet dream, and she would return to a cold reality, full of hatred and loneliness. She would never get tired of looking at him, and her hands always shaking and aching with the desire to touch him.

Nesta buried her face in the thick dark mass of his hair.

He moaned softly.

"Nesta?"

Her mate opened his eyes slowly. His voice was velvet soft like the night itself.

"Is there something wrong?"

She smiled then.

"I'm afraid that all of this is just a beatiful dream, which is going to fade away with the sunrise".

She waited a heartbeat.

"I still believe that I made a mistake, because I would not be able to protect you from myself. And at the same time I want to memorize you... I want this moment...".

Her gaze moved over his face.

"Are you not afraid to be like this with the witch?"

There was a small silence, and then he laughed softly, joyously.

"I mean it, Cassian... I am the creature of darkness. I'm breathing and things are crushing around me. I'm living and people are dying around me. The death has always been a part of me. I do not want to lose you, but if you stay with me...".

Cassian moved then, slowly lowering his head to hers. All the while holding her captive with the dark power of his glittering eyes. His pulse, beneath the pad of her thumb, raced wildly. She peered into his alarmed features, not daring to look away.

They were surrounded by gentle darkness and the soft light of pure gold in the fireplace. The sound of the fire was no more her fear, it was replaced by his hot breath on her skin, the heaviness of his body, the heat of his skin, the caress of his strong hands.

She touched his face, barely running her fingertips along his chin line.

“I'm scared when I touch you.” Her fingers froze near his dark eyelashes. “It still seems to me that if I am with you, you will disappear ... If I am with you, the darkness within me will swallow you.”

He did not say anything, letting her touch him.

“I want to disappear,” she finally admitted. “If I disappear, then I would not be able to harm anyone. This power is within me, it’s so hard to control. The day Devlon hit you, I wanted the earth itself to burn in hell. I wanted to hurt this man. I wanted to plunge him into the darkness of my nightmares so that he was afraid of me. And if I show you the darkness inside of me, I’m afraid you won’t be able to accept me”.

She hated herself for being such a coward. She glanced at him from under long lashes, while he was watching her, his gaze moving slowly, hotly over her body. He was devouring every inch of her. And she could feel the coolmess of the silk sheet against her back as he pressed her into the mattress.

"I dreamt about this moment, Nesta". 

His hands were strong, determined and so possesive. His eyes was etched with deep emotion, burning. The fingers wrapped so loosely around her wrist like a bracelet suddenly tightened. At once she was aware of her naked body. Her full breasts ached, body felt so heavy.

"So many times, I dreamt of this...".

His palms trailed over her skin slowly from her shoulders, over the swell of her breasts, along her narrow rib cage to her tucked-in waist and the flat expanse of her stomach. 

"It's amazing how soft your skin feels".

"You do not listen to me".

"I will never let you go," he said tenderly. He bunched her golden hair in his hand, crushing the strands in his palms. His voice was so low she could barely hear him.

"My mate is here. The one I have been looking for so many years of loneliness...And you are lying here with me now and I can show you my every fantasy I've ever had about you".

He frowned.

"You are in my lands, in my house. You are lying here on my bed, on my sheets, under my body, you are covered with my scent".

His voice was husky, a raw ache in it.

The look on his face set her heart pounding in anticipation.

"Look at me, Nesta. Look at me". Nesta stared up into his face, studied his feathery lashes, his strong jaw. His dark eyes resred thoughtfully on her face.

"You think you are a monster, Nesta, but the truth is that I am the most dangerous beast of these lands. My hands are covered with blood, I'm killing without mercy, Nesta. And I took such a great pleasure of killing every male, who shared a bed with you...".

He said her name gently. Enticing her.

"I still cannot bare a thought that you were with someone else, and I want to scream so much, because all of that you did was to protect me, to make me leave you alone, and I hate you for this, Nesta. I hate myself".

His tone was pitched so low it smoldered. It played over her skin.No one had told her it would be like this, a wild craving that heated her blood, crawled over her skin. 

"None of it is right".

"Nesta...".

Her grey eyes drifted over his face.

"I love you, Nesta".

He caught her chin, tipped her face up to his.

"I love this beautiful little girl in you, Nesta".

She closed her eyes for a moment. 

"I am ready to be swallowed by your darkness and my own darkness is going to embrace you as well, my beautiful little girl".

#nessian #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #postacofas #acofas #acotar

[ekaterinakostrova]

“I warned you there would be consequences".

“The light of the sun burned her skin. A golden disk of light heated the cloudless blue sky, and even the icy wind of the mountain ranges did not cool the heat radiating through the air. 

The wind howled in the height of the sapphire sky, rising from the mountain peaks, whirls of sparkling white snow. Crystals of snow shone, shimmering in the radiance of sunlight.

The camp was filled with the metal clanging of heavy swords, the scent of blood and iron.

Nesta could hardly breathe, looking at the men standing before her. She had not seen Cassian for more than a month. And she was torn by feelings of joy - she missed his appearance, yearned and craved for his scent, reveled in the sound of his deep voice; she was torn by feelings of anger - she was not the first person he decided to see after returning to the Illyrian Mountains.

Every day without him was torture.

Cold and burning darkness flowed inside of her.

The routine of life without him has become almost manageable.

It turned out she could still patch people up pretty well. The beatings and abuse, filth and coldness in her bones, strangely enough, but she could still deal with people, even if they were not her own kind.  Even if all she wanted was to be left alone. Even if she couldn't have her vengeance. Somehow, she learned simply to exist, and somewhere beyond, with his presence, she wanted to exist. 

She didn't rightly know how to live without him. She didn't know how to keep on breathing without him. 

Devlon gave her a sharp look. She knew this look, full of cold vengeance and cruelty. The way he looked at her, as if she was his personal deadly enemy. And that shaky truce between them had just been destroyed.

Her pace was confident. She felt heaviness in her shoulders, this always happened,when she picked up a heavy sword or prepared for an attack of her opponent. 

“I don't have time for you, witch. Get the hell away from my camp!"

Nesta did not move.

The High Lord of the Night Court slowly walked out of his tent, looking around on those gathered. 

Cassian turned to her slowly, taking a deep breath.

"Nesta..."

“I told you before, old man, that you would never dare to insult him again. I warned you there would be consequences".

Her voice was full of chill and ancient gloom.

Devlon spat at his feet.

“Take your whore with you, dog,” he said to Cassian, before turning his back to her and leaving. He did not have time to take the next step. His body froze.

Within minutes he could feel the violent energy coming at him in waves. The scent of her carried on the wind.

He slowly turned to Nesta, looking at her with wide eyes, a trembling hand reached out to his throat.

Devlon fell to his knees, screaming and tearing his throat with his nails to the very blood and meat. Hot and red blood covered his fingers. Convulsions shocked his body.

He crawled along the ground, bending his back and writhing in wild pain. From his terrible scream, full of agony, the blood froze in veins.

Cassian stepped back from him. His face twisted in horror.

Nesta took it step by step, approaching Devlon. Her face was beautiful as if she wore an impassive mask, streams of sunlight covered her, while she was watching as the man writhe at her feet in pain. 

People who stood around listened to the scream that was breaking in the air.

"Nesta...".

Cassian's heart began to pound so hard his breath came in a ragged gasp. He was with her now, locked into her mind, his emotions her emotions. He could see the reflecton of that eight-year-old girl who felt too much sorrow and too much rage”.

#nessian #nesta archeron #nesta #cassian #devlon #acotar #postacofas #witchcrafter

[ekaterinakostrova]

Nesta as a powerful witch.

When Devlon saw Nesta for the first time, he called her a witch. And Nesta agreed with this statement.

“Then he noticed Nesta.

“What is that,” Devlon asked.

Nesta merely stared at him, one hand clamping the edges of her gray cloak together at her chest. One of the other camp-lords made some sign against evil.

“That,” Cassian said too quietly, “is none of your concern.”

“Is she a witch.”

I opened my mouth, but Nesta said flatly, “Yes.”

And I watched as nine full-grown, weathered Illyrian warlords flinched”.

Devlon muttered, “Keep her away from the females and children.”

And after this scene, Nesta wonders what it means to be a witch.

“Nesta drifted toward the desk, the maps atop it. “What is the difference,” she asked none of us in particular, “between a faerie and a witch?”

“Witches amass power beyond their natural reserve,” Mor answered with sudden seriousness. “They use spells and archaic tools to harness more power to them than the Cauldron allotted—and use it for whatever they desire, good or ill.”

See, I don't think that's a coincidence. And since this series already has such a character as Koschei the Deathless, and since Sarah J. Maas really loves Slavic mythology, and since there is a place for witches in the series, then such a character as Yaga may well appear in the series.

So, for example, witches appeared in the series "The Throne of Glass"  - Sarah was inspired by the image of the Slavic witch Yaga.

Yaga is a  fairy-tale character of Slavic mythology and folklore of Slavic peoples. An ugly old woman, who owns magical items and endowed with magical powers. In a number of fairy tales, she is an evil and powerful sorceress (a negative character, but sometimes acts as the main defender of major characters.

Yaga is not always an ugly witch in fairy tales, she can take on the form of a woman of incredible beauty.

Sometimes, she appears in fairy tales as the main servant of Koshchei the Deathless, his loyal minion, fulfilling his most terrible orders without question , and sometimes she acts as a character, who opposes the Lord of Death.

Just two omnipotent wizards can not exist in the same world.

And in this series, Yaga can appear as a witch, who is going to awake in Nesta her true powers. And Nesta is afraid of her new powers that is why she rejects her gifts constantly. 

“Nesta didn’t look convinced. “Does she have powers? Like mine.”

And what, exactly, are those powers, Nesta?”

That's what's really interesting. Nesta’s powers are always associated with death, and in some fairy tales Yaga is the sovereign of the underworld or the infernal goddess. In ancient times, this goddess was offered a bloody sacrifice and was delighted with the shedding of blood.

However, the modern view of Yaga - she is the mistress of the forest, the mistress of animals and birds, the guardian of the borders of the “other kingdom,” the kingdom of Death. According to this version, Yaga is a conductor (the soul of the dead) to the other world, and one leg is bone to stand in the world of the dead.

Moreover, Yaga is called as the goddess of the winds.

“How the wind moans her name. Can you hear it, too? Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.”

Moreover, Yaga is the mother of three demonic daughters (sometimes the princess, the hero's wonderful bride). And we have three Archeron’s sisters in the series...

We know absolutely nothing about the mother of the Archeron’s sisters. And most importantly, Nesta, while she was still as a mortal woman, could resist Tamlin's magic. 

Powerful and cunning servants of Koschei the Deathless.

#nesta #nesta archeron #koschei the deathless #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #postacofas #acotar #acowar #acofas #yaga the witch

[ekaterinakostrova]

I really dont think there is a way for Nessian to be together and for Nesta stans be happy. Because SJM will either butcher Nesta's completely valid reasons to be the way she is and make her apologize to fit in with the IC (and likely spin some bullshit on Feyre exhiling her own sister out of the city she never wanted to be in for her own good) or Cassian will never acknowledge how toxic he and his family are and drag Nesta with them,the only good thing i see for her future is to let them go

This is the world of Sarah J. Maas. She is the creator of this amazing story, and I have never been so captured by a female character before. I fell in love with Nesta. I like her pride, and I felt for her, because she is ready to sacrifice herself for the sake of others, while others do not see this self-sacrifice.

Maas as a writer has grown since the first release of the series “The Throne of Glass”. The first and second books (the drafts) of the ACOTAR series appeared somewhere in 2009, and then, Maas signed a contract with the publishing house for the publication of this series. Therefore the story of Nesta was created a little bit later. I would even say that her story was created by a mature author.

Maas perfectly combines action with elements of really good angst. The third book can rightly be considered my favorite one in the series, and I will tell you honestly, I was not interested in the story of Feyre at all. I fell in love with Nesta in the first book, since the very beginning, so I desperately followed her story.

I think that Maas has a plan to make her readers’ hearts beat faster. I believe in it! I am sure that I will not be disappointed in the fourth book.

After all, Sarah is a Sailor Moon’ fan!

I think that the writer intentionally created such a derogatory image of Nesta in the novella in order to make the formation of the new Nesta more epic. This is a very classic approach of the author, and I really like it.

But, most importantly, Maas wanted to translate into Nesta the despair of loss and hopelessness that she felt by herself.

When I saw the spoilers for the novella, I was crushed. I was completely destroyed. For a whole year I have been waiting for an incredible continuation, I have been waiting for any interaction between Cassian and Nesta and I wanted passionate scenes between them. I was not interested in Feyre and Rhysand at all - for me their story ended in the second book. 

However, if I had a chance to read this novella after reading the first book, I would gladly sell my soul to the dark side in gratitude.

The events in the novella must be realized. We need to understand Nesta’s actions, and partialy we had a chance to understand her decision. 

I can not blame her for bad behavior, because I simply do not find anything bad in her actions. I see her as a very broken, lonely, shattered and abandoned person. And I also can see, how strong she is! 

Nesta is an incredibly strong character! She was able to overcome her fear of water and bath. For someone, this is nothing, but it is a serious achievement after all these nightmares and terrible, cruel things that she went through.

I think I can accept any plot development. To some extent, I am glad that the continuation does not come out this year, because I will be able to enjoy wholeheartedly the fan community - I have a chance to read a lot of fan-fictions, enjoy various theories. I get from all of this just an incredible fun and enjoy every minute of this.

But I agree with you that the attitude of the inner circle is disgusting. I would even call this attitude - the real acts of betrayal and cowardice.

For me, Feyre is like a little child, who doesn’t really think about other people’s actions, nor does she think about the hidden meaning of these actions, so I would call her as a capricious child, who just wants the attention, love and care of her older sister.

By the way, the situation of Nesta and Feyre reminds me a little of the story of Elsa and Anna from “Frozen” film. Elsa intentionally avoided her sister, because she was afraid to harm her, but Anna did not understand and did not know the true reason for this behavior of her older sister.

I think that a truce of sisters awaits us.

After all, they are family. And the main strength and happiness in our own happiness in our family.

I think that Feyre will also ask for Nesta’s forgiveness, and I hope that she will finally realize, how amazing, brave, strong and selfless person her older sister is.

P.S. RHYSAND MUST ASK FOR NESTA’S FORGIVENESS!

I also hope that Cassian will meet my expectations in the next book.

#nesta #nesta archeron #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #postacofas #acofas #cassian #nessian #Questions

[ekaterinakostrova]

Could you write your take on Nesta's hair? I feel like its going to be very important in Acotar4, but idk

Well… Cassian would love Nesta’s short hair, without doubt!

”He stopped dead when she entered the kitchen.

She was still sleepy, short golden locks of her hair fell on her shoulders as she leaned against the doorjamb, shaking her hips seductively. He grinned, considering her appearance. She was in his shirt, which was so wide and long for her, that it could easily pass for a dress.

But he liked it. He liked that she wore his clothes, liked that she enjoyed his scent. He liked to watch as in a dream she reaches out to him or starts hugging his pillow, burying her face in a sheet.

But he understood that under this shirt was a beautiful naked body.

“Cassian?” she asked sleepily, raising her bewitching gray eyes at him. Her lips were still red and puffy after their last night, and he noticed dark maroon spots on her milky clavicles and neck from his kisses.

She looked so sexy. He took a deep breath, absorbing her scent, which was now mixed with his scent.

Him. She belonged to him.

“Did I wake you?” he asked quietly, not taking his hungry and attentive gaze from her - the true predator peers at its prey. She slowly shook her head, and her cheeks were painted a bright blush, and her scarlet lips parted slightly.

“It’s just… I immediately woke up when you left,” she confessed confusedly, and lowered her bright eyes.

It was so unfamiliar to him. Nesta, full of feelings, embarrassment and tenderness, full of feminine innocence.

He leaned his strong hands on a massive wooden oak table.

“Come here, Nesta,” he said, without taking his dark eyes from her. Burning amber became his eyes. She blinked, as if embarrassed by his insistent tone. His voice was hoarse and dangerously quiet, and she took a step, feeling his hot look on her body. She saw the radiant and burning light of dawn streaming down his dark and long eyelashes, his muscular chest dropping and rising under her own gaze. She remembered his weight on herself, remembered his strong hands on her body, the rough skin of his palms, his hands on her her buttocks and on her full breasts, his hot lips leaving a wet path on her skin. She remembered his teeth, leaving amethyst lines on her neck and collarbone, his hot and moist mouth on her hardened nipples, his fingers wet of her moisture.

She took another step.

“Nesta,” he said again. “Come here.”

She approached him, but when she stood close to him, so that she could smell his musk, she looked away, looking at the bowls on the table.

“What are you doing?” Nesta asked with interest, but his hands were already touching her face. His hands, his palms on her face. He touched her lower lip, and she closed her eyes, a faint moan escaped her lips.

“I’m cooking dessert,” he said quietly, and wicked and evil grin twisted his lips. He pressed her to his body, and she could feel the heat of his body through the linen shirt that hides her nakedness. He brought his face close to her, drawing a  line with the tip of his nose along her burning cheekbone.

“Dessert?” she asked, and then he suddenly grabbed her in his arms, seating her on the edge of the table. A sigh of surprise came from her lips, and she raised her hands, digging her fingers into the dark curly strands, not daring to turn her eyes from his brown eyes.

It was a beautiful shade - the shade of tar and lime honey. It was a shade of the setting sun and caramel.

“Yes,” he replied, grinning widely.

She lifted her head to glare at him.

“I cook this dessert exclusively for myself, though… you might like it too, sweetheart.”

He laughed softly again.

“Would you like to taste it?”

She nodded, but in fact, she wanted his hands on her bare skin. She wanted his lips on her skin. She did not want him to leave.

“Try it,” he whispered, raising his wet fingers to her mouth, and she opened her mouth, licking golden honey from the tips of his index and middle fingers. Hot and sweet wild honey. She touched her hands to his wrist, slowly licking his fingers.

And then, she opened her eyes, meeting his eyes - dark gold.

“I want you to lay down on the table,” he said hoarsely, tearing off his shirt from her, exposing her in front of his inflamed eyes.

And she obeyed him, she will always obey only him.

She smiled seductively, closing her eyes with pleasure as his wet hands lay on her body, tightly squeezing her full breasts. His hands on her skin. Finally.

“Cassian …,” she moaned exhaustedly, as one of his sinful hands reached for her clavicles, and then with a massaging movement he stretched her tense shoulders. She felt on her face the incident light of the sun, like a golden glow flocking on burning cheekbones and cheeks, as the amber light on her eyelashes hardens, as the light stops on her wet and hot lips. She arched her back, feeling his hands on her.

And when she opened her eyes, blurred with passion, she saw his blackness and his darkness. His dark and frightening wings, which she was eager to touch.

She wanted his lips.

But he only smiled unkindly, enjoying her naked, embraced by the brightness of the white and golden radiance.

“Close your eyes …,” he whispered.

He was trembling. She couldn’t remember anyone ever looking at her with that stark, raw need, the fear and possession on his handsome face. His wet hands fisted in her golden hair, dragging her to him, his mouth taking hers hard.

“I want to touch you, Cassian …,” she moaned, gasping.

“No, stay still…,” he answered softly.

“Please,”  she begged him.

Cassian took a deep breath. His hands slid over her body, taking his time, massaging the honey into every single square inch he wanted to taste. He could almost taste her now, a hint of cinnamon in his mouth mixed with wild honey. Her skin glowed in the soft light, her body open to his hungry gaze. Her skin loved the honey, absorbing it so quickly.

His breath came in ragged gasps, and he knew that in another minute he wouldn’t be able to stop.

And then she said:

“Do not stop…”.

He could see the lines of her body, her head thrown back, eyes closed, throat exposed, and an expression of pure ecstasy on her face.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his hands going to her breasts.

A slow smile teased her mouth.

And then he said looking into her half-closed, glittering eyes:

“I know everything about you, Nesta.”

His voice was smooth black velvet, and Сassian studied her face.

“I know what you have done, Nesta.”

She swallowed.

‘I know, what you want, Nesta.’

#nessian #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #acotar #acofas #postacofas #Questions

[ekaterinakostrova]

“It was his scent and he was here...”.

Ok... TOO MUCH ELRIEL FOR ME  AND SO LITTLE POSTS FOR NESSIAN! WTF!!!!?????

Fear. Thirst. Lust. Desire. Longing. Affection. Obsession. Passion.

Feelings boiled inside of her, tearing her apart.

All of this was a lie. These feelings were not real.

Her body ached with fatigue, and when she rose on her elbows, she instantly felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder. She remembered it clearly, how a black arrow pierced her shoulder - she remembered pain that was hot as red, burning coals. If it was an ordinary arrow made of an alloy of iron, there would be no trace of the wound.

She laid her head on the pillows, deeply breathing in the aroma of pine needles and juniper, mist and water, the sun. Her favorite mix of aroma that surrounded her. 

The fire burning in the fireplace threw bizarre shadows on the wooden floorboards, and she peered into the game of bright red flame.

The bed was so soft, she was ready to spend the rest of her eternity in this cocoon of heat and darkness.

Nesta instantly froze, a cold feeling of fear covers her.

It was not her bed.

She looked around the room she was in. 

Her hands shook involuntarily, and her full lips parted in a barely perceptible sigh.

This was his room ... But she did not think that this place would be so empty and full of loneliness...

A wide closet of dark oak wood with neatly folded clothes stood along the wall, a lonely shelf above the fireplace with several volumes of books, a wide and massive table. She has a feeling that this was not a private room, but a place where you could spend the night. As if he did not want to become attached to any particular place.

She squeezed the soft and clean sheets soaked in his scent...

This was his bed. Her cheekbones instantly turned a rich crimson hue, and she leaned back on the pillows, burying her face in silk sheets.

It was his scent.

She heard his steps first and her entire body clenched, her blood thickened.

He was here.

Closer... 

"Please...", she whispered, her lungs starving for air. 

He opened the door.

She met his gaze and in his dark eyes she saw these fatal and devastating feelings - despair and fear, and destructive loneliness, relief and hope. 

He was emaciated, macerated and unable to speak clearly. Under his eyes were heavy dark circles, as if he had not slept for many days. His hair was spread out, and the tips of dark curls fell on his strong shoulders.

He was silent, and fear enveloped her. She remembered their last meeting. She remembered his cruel and evil words, remembered his eyes full of anger.

But now...

There was a small silence while they stared at one another. Slowly, he took a deep, calming breath, and then...he said:

"Hello, Nesta".

His voice was so low she could barely hear him. 

His voice so hoarse she could barely recognized it. 

She could barely see her mate, when her eyes swam with hot tears. Grief welled up, sharp and clear and strong. 

She wanted to touch him, feel him. She wanted him. She wanted to hear his voice, wanted to feel his heartbeat, wanted to feel his breath in her hair. 

She wanted his hands. How many times she was looking at his hands working the bread dough?

And when his strong hands pulled her to his body, she thought that she could breathe deeply again. She had dreamt of this. Wanted this. She wanted his hands and his breath. The firelight played over his handsome features and a shiver of excitement went through her. 

"Nesta..," he said tenderly as her hands found his hair, tangling deep into the dark curls.

#nessian #nesta #nesta archeron #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #postacofas #acofas

[ekaterinakostrova]

I need one of your long and detailed metas on how ridiculously beautiful Nesta is, because i am in love with her and i hate how unapreciated she is

ANYTHING FOR ONLY YOU! I had quite an interesting headcanon about modern NESSIAN - “You’re so beautiful today, sweetheart…”, so I decided to write a small sequel. Hope you like it:)

“He carefully put a camellia of white chocolate on top of a cheesecake, sprinkled with golden powder, which he had recently brought from Paris.

“Your girl has come,” said the man, annoyed and tired. He leaned against the doorjamb, watching Cassian’s sensitive and painstaking work.

Devlon was silent for a while, then hissed angrily:

“You insisted that I must tell you every time that the girl came to the restaurant. She comes at the same time every single day. And you prepare these damn cakes for her. Why the hell should I report to you about her at all, if you are standing at the stove from early morning to surprise her with your culinary masterpieces? I’m not your servant after all”.

Cassian did not listen to him, putting a teapot with hot oriental coffee on a silver tray. He took a deep breath of the tart flavor and smiled. It was expensive black ground coffee from Istanbul.

“Do not forget to smile, Devlon. I know that you can charm any woman if you want to. Try for the sake of the owner,” Cassian said playfully, not forgetting to put a sheet of paper on the silver tray with a small message for a woman that couldn’t leave his thoughts.

Devlon grinned as if he was a predator, picked up the tray with a slight annoyance.

“I was tortured by your flirting with this girl from the very beginning, write your phone number on this damned piece of paper and let me rest in peace”.

“You can handle her, Devlon”.

He muttered something under his breath. However, when Devlon went out into the hall, his face acquired a calm expression. He moved with his usual grace, and when he stood in front of the woman, he gave her a slight smile, putting a cup of hot black coffee and a small plate decorated with exquisite ornaments in front of her.

Cassian nodded as he watched her. He enjoyed her cold facial expressions, when she tasted his cakes. She was beautiful, every classic line, her small patrician nose, her full, generous mouth. And her eyes of a spring storm. 

Suddenly, she looked up at him, her vivid gaze moved over his face. Her gaze was cool and assessing. She was looking at him for a moment. 

And then… a slow wicked smile curved her mouth. 

She was in an elegant black dress to her knees, her golden hair was loose and fell to the waist. He was fascinated as the light of the midday sun spread over her silky hair.

She looked at the gold watch on her wrist and slowly rose from her usual place.He folded his arms over his chest, watching as she checks the documents in her black case. For the last time she looks into her planner, checking the time of the pretrial hearing.

And then, she slowly left his restaurant.

He smiled.

Tomorrow he will prepare a French strudel for her”.

#nessian headcanon #nessian #nesta archeron #nesta #cassian #a court of thorns and roses #postacofas #acotar #acofas #Questions

[ekaterinakostrova]

“The true ruler...,” Nesta whispered.

“The true ruler?” Nesta asked with curios.

The woman, who bandaged her wound grimaced. The light of flames in the fireplace threw fascinating and frightening shadows on the cold stone walls.

“One sole and solitary day a year, all clans meet new warriors that have passed the test and were able to survive. And only three Illyrians could touch the cold stone of Ramiel”.

Nesta was silent, watching the curved black shadows sliding across the stone slabs.

“However, every Illyrian every year is waiting for the earth to ignite, to see Illyria’s true ruler, its real sovereign. And every year all the lords of the clans stand at the foot of the mountain to leave and remain the masters of their clans, to decide the fate of the people of their clans.

“The true ruler...,” Nesta whispered. 

“Everyone knows this legend that one day the land of Illyria will turn into flame to greet its true sovereign, who will unite all the clans. And the Illyrians will become one nation. And there will be no more internecine wars”.

#nesta archeron #nesta #the Queen of Illyria #The Queen of Warriors #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #postacofas

[ekaterinakostrova]

« In my opinion, [cassian] is a most contemptible coward. » You are speaking the truth

Damn it! 

HE IS! 

I really hope that he will regret his actions. He must roll in the mud and ask for her forgiveness!!!!

#nessian #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #Questions #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #postacofas

[ekaterinakostrova]

Are you still writing I could hear your heartbeat?

I was very busy at work, and I had absolutely no free time. 

BUT I SHOULD BE FREE NEXT WEEK!

I will try to be as far away from my workplace as possible. And yes, I do plan to write a new chapter and update it here as soon as possible.

So I hope that I would have enough time to write a new part.

To be honest, I have been waiting for so long new stories from different authors on tumblr, something special and long with multiple chapters with intrigues (Eris and Mor), passionate and romantic scenes… 

Moreover, I haven’t seen new stories or headcanon for this ship for quite a long period of time. 

I really need to ease my life a little, I’ll have to pull myself together and write.

So many authors promised me to write great stories about NESSIAN!!! WHERE ARE YOU GUYS? YOU PROMISED ME (crying hysterically)!!!

#nessian #nessian fanfic #Questions #i could hear your heartbeat #nesta archeron #nesta #cassian #a court of thorns and roses #postacofas

[ekaterinakostrova]

Nesta is well aware about the mating bond.

“Is that mate of yours going to stand in the cold all night?”

I blinked, wondering if she’d somehow sensed the thoughts between us. “Who says he’s here?”

Nesta snorted. “Where one goes, the other follows.”

Nesta was reading romance in the fae’s library – there definitely were collection of books about soulmates and star-crossed lovers. Perhaps, Nesta was reading about the greatness of this destined love, about sacred bond that binds two souls into one being.

“He’d followed.

She’d known it in her bones, her blood. He’d kept high in the skies, but he’d followed until she’d entered the building’.

She's saying all this in a manner like “I have  personally experienced the mating bond. I know better”. 

#nesta archeron #nesta #nessian #cassian #the mating bond #a court of frost and starlight #acofas #postacofas #a court of thorns and roses #acotar