Nessian Fanfiction - What Happens After?

Chapter 1 - What Happens Next?

A/N: Hey! I've played around with fan fics for a while, but this is going to be my first, fully blown story with multiple chapters. Hope you like it! And if you do, don't forget to leave a comment or vote - it just lets me know that people are liking what they see :)

Cassian approached the filthy, run down apartment that Nesta called home. It was in a poor part of Velaris - drunks passed out cold in the street, litter lining the cobbled floor. He sighed, wondering why she did this to herself. She could afford much better than this with the salary Rhys and Feyre gave her - but Nesta wasted the money on booze. Cassian didn't know if Nesta was into drugs yet, but he'd figured that she'd be heading that way soon.
He stomped up the flight of stairs leading to Nesta's apartment, each step creaking under his weight.
As he approached apartment No.9, Nesta's apartment, he looked at his surroundings warily. This place was disgusting. He made a mental note to tell Rhys about how this part of Velaris was living. It needed some serious renovation.
Cassian lifted his fist to knock on the door, but before he could complete the action, the door swung about abruptly, and out stepped Nesta.
She was coming with him to Feyre and Rhys' waterside property, for the meeting they had scheduled. But Nesta knew that it was more than a meeting, they were going to chide her about her lifestyle.

Well, Nesta thought, They can chide me all they want. I don't care what they think. But deep down, Nesta did care. She desperately sought approval from her sister, but she didn't know how to get it. So, she resorted to alcohol. It didn't help but hey, it made her forgot for a while and that's all she wanted.

"I'm ready." Nesta snuffed haughtily, her nose turned up at Cassian.

"Right." Cassian responded, eyeing her up and down. She didn't look ready at all. Her hair was pulled tight into a bun - it looked far too tight, as if her scalp was going to rip from the pressure. Her ripped, wine-stained clothes hung limply off of her frail, thin body and she absolutely stunk of wine.
But Cassian knew not to comment on this. She wasn't going to change and it would do more harm than good to get into a heated arguement about her lifestyle. "Let's go, then." Cassian said brightly, trying to lighten the mood.

Nesta was having none of it. She stalked past him into the street and started walking towards the palace that loomed over the Night Court's biggest city. Feyre's palace.

Cassian had to jog to catch up with her. Gods. He thought, panting slightly. She might not be healthy, but she walks damn fast. Cassian fell into step with her, matching her long strides.

"So, what's this meeting about?" Nesta asked airily.

"You'll find out when we get to the palace. We're almost there anyway." Cassian replied. He looked straight ahead, not even deigning Nesta with a glance as he led her up the winding roads of Phrythian.

Nesta huffed, clearly dissatisfied with Cassian's answer. She spent the entire journey fuming about Feyre, about the idiot Illyrian walking next to her, about naïve Elain never being reprimanded for all the shit she pulls, and the fact everyone jumps on her back whenever she makes even the slightest of mistakes.

As the pair approached the palace, all the fury seeped away from Nesta. The residence was even more beautiful than she remembered. Spirals twisted high into the sky, stained-glass windows placed delicately in the front wall. Red roses climbed the sides of the circular spires, and to the left of the palace was the garden.
The garden - oh!
The garden was mesmerising. There was an abundance of colour sprouting from the ground, flowers she'd never heard of, let alone seen. All planted with love, probably by Elain. She thought of her sister sometimes, wondering what she was up to. They didn't see each other much, but Cassian had told her that she was doing well with Azriel. Glad one of us could find happiness, Nesta thought to herself bitterly. Then she took a deep breath, refusing to let the fury consumer any longer. There was no point in being spiteful: it wasn't Elain's fault she was more likeable, was it?

A feeling of nostalgia hit Nesta like a brick the moment she stepped foot into the gilded hallways. It reminded her of her old life, her human life. Walking lightly through the corridors, she looked at the paintings lining the walls. There were paintings of everyone there, framed with ornate gold: Azriel, Mir, Rhys, Elain - even their godsdamned father. But none of her. Nesta turned away and bit her lip.
She should've expected it. She didn't even like Feyre. So did her gut twist upon seeing evidence of her sisters' hated for her?
Cassian stopped outside a large oak door and stood silently. He had his no bullshit face on, and this never boded well for Nesta.
"You ready?" He asked, looking sideways at her.

Nesta nodded. It was now or never - and Nesta preffered now. She pushed the heavy door and took a large step.

Inside sat the entirety of the inner circle: Rhys, Mor, Azriel, Elain, Amren. Feyre. Cassian walked on past her and took a seat next to Azriel on a baby blue sofa. Cute: it seemed Feyre had time to decorate her numerous castles instead of tending to the thousands of homeless soldiers outside her walls.

The anger had consumed Nesta again, and it took every inch of restraint for to bite her tongue. Instead of barking out a snide comment, Nesta opted to sit on the arm of the chair. It was furthest away from Feyre - safe.

The silence stretched on, and it became increasingly clear Feyre was content to sit her as long as she liked. "So." Nesta began, with a bored tone. "Why did you call me here?" She was never a one for rudimentary introductions, and certainly did not enjoy Her Majesty wasting her time.
"You know why I called you here, Nes." Feyre answered softly. Gods. Nesta hated it when Feyre was like this, all soft and... nice. She suppressed an eye roll.
"You need to change." Feyre's continued. "This lifestyle isn't healthy. All you do is waste money and drink."

"And fuck anyone you meet." Amren added matter-of-factly. Nesta threw her best smouldering game at her, but it was adeptly ignored.

"That's my problem." Nesta frowned. Was that all they called her here for? She was expected a death or something, hopefully her father's. "What I do in my spare time doesn't concern you."

"It does concern us." Nesta flinched at the use of her nickname. "I can't just let you drink yourself to death." Feyre took a deep breath and closed her eyes before saying: "I think it would be good for you to leave Velaris. Maybe you should go with Cassian to the Illyrian mountains for training."

Nesta stared at Feyre, shock displayed clearly on her face. "Training?" She said in horror. She couldn't handle being around more death. Not after the Cauldron. "You're kicking me out." Nesta said eventually, savouring each word in her mouth.

"It's what's best for you." Feyre said calmly.

"You don't know what's best for me." Nesta snapped, a hint of anger in her voice.

"I might now know much, Nesta, but I know what's best for this family. That's how I kept us alive all those years." Feyre maintained.

"You don't always know best Feyre. You don't know what I've done for us." Nesta countered, fire burning in her eyes.

"So what have you done for us?" Feyre laughed. "Please, enlighten me, Nesta."

Nesta was sick of it. Sick of Feyre lording over her all the damn time, and if telling her the truth got her to shut up, then so be it.

"You remember Peter." Nesta whispered angrily.

Feyre's mind flashed back to her old life. Peter had been the pastor in their village. He was a good friend of their father's but had disappeared from their life when their fortune ran out.

"I took it every day, Feyre. To save you. For Elain. You know, I once told someone about it Feyre. I told Father about it and what did he say? He didn't even believe me. He told Peter what I'd said to him and my God, you should've seen the beating he gave me then. So Feyre, cut this saviour complex bullshit out, because we've all made sacrifices for this family." Nesta looked Feyre, directly in the eye, the fire burning brighter than ever and said: "And each one is worth of it's own merit."
And with that, Nesta stormed out of the room, leaving the Inner Circle dumbfounded.
And it took a hell of a lot to shock the most powerful people in Illyria.