ACOTAR oneshots

War is Brutal (Nessian)

Overview: Nesta and Cassian find comfort in each other during the war against The King of Hybern.
Rated: M
Words: 3947

War. It was...

Brutal. Gruesome. Horrid. Cruel. Disgusting. Torture.

Nesta had no other words for it. She had to watch males be impaled at the heart, blood gushing in every direction, and then fall flat on their face—the light in their eyes dimming forever. And then healers came to dispose of their bodies, then they were merely a forgotten whisper in the stars. She didn't remember their faces. She didn't know their names either. But that didn't matter.

It was just death. Everything and everyone radiated death, the stench of blood filling her nose anytime she stepped outside her tent. It burned her nostrils when she breathed, every inch of her skin lighting fire. And the worst thing was that she felt it...felt death radiating deep in her bones.

Her lip trembled as she watched the Hybern soldiers surrender slowly on the battlefield. Dropping to their knees around Cassian, bowing to the power he held so carefully within him. She struggled to continue breathing evenly, to not let the sight of the general ruin her—bring her to her knees. She swallowed the bile that rose up as she watched him trudge up the hill, his enemies' blood dripping from his armour.

Nesta spun away before she could see anymore, Feyre in turn. They reached a healers tent, Rhysand following quickly with Cassian and Azriel.

Nesta tried to block out the blaring urge to run to him. To check on him. To help him. To stay with him. And she hated it. Hated that she couldn't get rid of it, no matter what she did.

To distract herself, she offered to help cut up the linens for bandages so the wounded could be healed. Feyre passed her a pile of them.

She heard the crunch of his boots in the mud and smelt his blood before he even entered the tent. His eyes scanned the surroundings, snagging on Nesta's, before she looked away, cutting up the linens with more force than before.

She swallowed, hearing Cassian groan as he sat down. She finished cutting the linens as the others conversed in whispers about Hybern, his soldiers, his attacks, and his plans. She turned around, not knowing what to say—or if she should even say anything at all.

Her gaze floated toward Cassian who was rolling his shoulders back, and craning his neck in discomfort. He let one of his arms hang at his side lazily. Her gaze drifted down to his hand...which he was flexing as it shook.

Her next words came out before she could think.

"You're hurt."

An innocent sentence, group of words and letters. Or...would've been innocent if his hand wasn't covered in armour, and didn't look completely fine. She watched his pupils grow slightly, in curiosity, as they both looked at each other for a prolonged period of time.

"You know better than to walk around with an injury." Rhysand retorted as Cassian's armour unraveled from his hand.

Rhysand sighed at the sight of open wound on Cassian's hand, and for the first time ever—Nesta agreed with Rhysand. He should've gotten help right when he knew he was injured. Nesta was sure that if she hadn't noticed his hand, he wouldn't have treated it.

"I was busy. It'll be fixed by morning anyways." Cassian replied to Rhys, without taking his eyes off Nesta.

All other sounds became mere particles of nothing as Cassian's eyes continued to follow her while she walked towards him. She gently picked up his maimed hand in hers. His skin felt rough and calloused, yet Nesta payed no mind.