A Court of Storm and Legacy

After the War

The wind was bitingly cold and Nesta didn't want to spend another gods forsaken moment on this island. Rhys had sent them back to the prison right after the final battle to make sure all was as it should be.

She grimaced as she took in her appearance. Blood and dirt covered her from head to toe, and all she wanted to do was take a warm bath with her Mate. They had barely had a moment to relish in their victory, before they had to fly out to the Western Isles. She cursed Cassian soundly for volunteering them for this check up.

Just as she began to wonder what was taking him so long, she heard yelling.

"NESTA!"Cassian's screams had almost been completely devoured by the wind. She rushed towards her mates voice, panic gripping her chest like icy claws. She ran as quickly as she could, while watching her footing on the slippery, rocky shores of the Isle. She heard him call for her once more. Nesta had never heard Cassian's voice so panicked. He always managed to keep a way-too-calm exterior, no matter the life threatening situation. A quality of his she both admired, and envied greatly. Though she'd never admit that to his face. Nesta ran faster. She saw him standing knee-deep in the frozen water, gathering something off of a large boulder.

"I'm here! what's–" Nesta gasped as she beheld what her mate now held in his arms. A girl, no more than six, was in Cassian's arms. Her heart broke as she took in the girl's battered appearance. The child was dripping wet and shaking like a leaf.

"We need to call Rhys. She needs to get out of these wet clothes right now," Cassian spoke quickly. Nesta freed herself of her jacket and draped it around the girl. "I would fly her, but all the wind–," Nesta nodded, understanding her mates pause.

They quickly moved away from the shoreline, sending messages to their friend, mind to mind, calling for aid. Cassian wasted no time in stretching his wings out to wrap around himself and the girl, a barrier to keep her warm. Nesta's own teeth chattered, a thin material the only thing between her arms and the wind.

They waited another moment before someone appeared.

"Where's the girl?" Azriel questioned. They both watched as Cassian unfurled his wings, revealing the child shivering in his arms.

"Quickly–," Cassian's words were cut off as the child in his arms let out an ear piercing scream. They barely had time to react before an explosion of shadows erupted, knocking them all down. "Az, what the hell are you doing!" Cassian boomed.

"It's not me! It's coming from the girl!" The shadowsinger yelled in response.

"WELL DO SOMETHING!" Cassian's response became muffled by the ever growing expanse of shadows. Nesta watched in rapt attention as Azriel carefully approached the two, his hands reaching into the wall of shadows that had begun to form around them. And as quickly as they had come, the shadows disappeared.

"What the fuck was that," Cassian's voice was hoarse. The shadowsinger didn't waste another moment before he disappeared with the child, taking her back to Velaris.

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The entire Court of Dreams now stood, crowded around a bed, in one of the Manor's many bedrooms. They watched in silence as Madja inspected the girl.

"She'll be fine," the tense atmosphere dissipated at her words, "She needs rest and lots of food and water. Keep her warm like this and she might boil to death," the healer chuckled softly as she exited the room.

"Who is she?" Mor broke the silence first.

"She's a Shadowsinger." The entire room turned to face Azriel. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with all the gawking stares now directed his way.

"I thought you were the only one," Nesta mused.

"That we knew of," the male directed his gaze back to the girl, "Now we know of another."

The room returned to silence. It seemed no one knew what to make of her. As Nesta studied the girl, she began to ponder an idea she had had many a months ago, before they were forced to go to war against Koschei to protect their home.

"Momma," Nyx's small voice broke the room out of their trance, "Who's that?"

Feyre made her way over to her son, lifting him up into her arms and placing a kiss on his cheek. Nesta had not seen her nephew since before the all-out fighting had begun. Her sister and Rhysand had sent him off to be protected by some friends of theirs, far away from Prythian, while they fought in the war. He had grown so much since she had last seen him. He was nearly eight years old now.

"Baby, what are you doing out of bed! You should've been asleep hours ago," Feyre's sleepy smile betrayed her stern words. Nyx swiped a hand across his cheek.

"Mo-m, I'm not a baby. Uncle Cass is just really loud when he walks up the stairs." Nesta shot an amused look at her mate, who looked rather sheepish as both Rhys and Feyre glared his way.

"Hey kid, you know what they say about snitches—,"

Cassian's words were cut off as movement in the bed caught everyone's attention and the room fell into silence once more.