Nesta Hated People

Chapter 1

Nesta hated people.

Especially the people of this godforsaken city. She hated how helpless they had been and how they took their warm homes and full bellies for granted. How they dared to celebrate him and welcome him home with smiles and happiness on their faces.

But more than that she hated how much they reminded her of herself.

Because if there was one thing she had learnt in her life it was that it was so much easier to ask for help – to let other people sacrifice for you – than it was to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps and help yourself.

And that was exactly what these people did when they prayed his name. That was exactly what these people did when they asked for his faith, his courage and his strength. When the let him sacrifice his bones, and his teeth and his blood and his voice and... anything that he would be willing to give them.

So damn this city and all the people in it.

Damn them for ever asking so much of him.

Damn anyone that ever prayed to his name. Anyone who had ever taken anything from him.

Because they knew – just like she had – that allnthey needed to do was ask, and he would come. That he would come and be there to sacrifice everything.

Everything until there was nothing left of him.

He was born to be a warrior. A soldier. A hero.

And yet they dared to insult him for his birth. Dared to whisper treachery under their breaths.

Even after all he'd done for them.

Nesta hated people.

He had become something so much greater than any one of them could ever comprehend.

How they had celebrated him when he passed them on the street. Raised him up on a pedestal so high that it was dizzying. Passed on bedtime stories of his bravery to their children. Cemented was his place among the stars as a legend of Velaris.

The protector of Velaris.

The world needed him.

But so did she.

Because even soldiers could fall and even stories could be forgotten, and she did not want to see him break the way old and worn and overused things do.

She did not want to see him go up in flames the way all heroes end up martyrs.

Because what they didn't see was the toll that all of this took on him.

What they didn't see was how he had been lying to everyone, about everything.

They didn't know the sort of violent nightmares that had haunted him almost every night- the centuries of bloodshed that he had relived again and again and again. They didn't see how he twisted and turned in bed, how his heart thumped and how he woke up with tears from all the pain and suffering that he had endured. He was a victim just as much as they were. But they hadn't been the one to lead their soldiers into the valley of death. They weren't the ones with the blood on their hands. And they weren't the ones who'd be willing to do it all again, again and again if it meant that the city was safe.

This godforsaken city.

They already had so many heroes. They had already gone through so many wars.

There had already been so many sacrificial lambs.

So she begged them, prayed for them to spare him.

They could have their pick of heroes. There would be many more to come.

But he was all that she had.

He was her mate.

And she knew that he couldn't go on like this any longer.

That he wouldn't survive another war like the one that they had just gone through.

Nesta hated people.