Witch (Nessian)

Chapter 4

After Cassian left, Nesta looked around her room and saw two bags in front of a closet. She opened them and there were her belongings inside that Azriel must have brought when he came. She pulled out a light grey dress with long sleeves and changed into them. She wore the coat that she probably left Velaris in and returned Cassian's coat to the only other.

She left the cottage to 'explore' the mountains. She walked for at least 30 minutes before she finally saw the Illyrians. It hadn't felt this long when she was with that brute. She didn't mind it. Not that it mattered to anyone if she did. She didn't matter to anyone. Not Elain, the only person she loved or cared for. Not Feyre nor her sister's mate, Rhysand. Definitely not Morrigan. Nesta had no clue what was wrong with the third in command of the Night Court with her. She barely talked to her or even look at her, but that didn't stop the Truth-speaker from glaring daggers at her. She ignored her completely, there was no point caring. Her sisters may have found a place in the Inner Circle but she could never be part of it. She didn't need to anyways.

She could have died and no one would even know. If they were to hear about the 'devastating' news, her sisters might shed a few tears, only because their older sister will be gone forever. And forever is a pretty long time especially because of their immortal fae lives.

And Cassian. He would give up sooner or later on her too. That's pretty much her fate, destiny or whatever. Her mother died of typhus when she was 11. Her father had died in that horrid war with Hybren, where the king snapped his neck right in front of Nesta. She still felt the burst of rage, sorrow and guilt. A day ago, she attempted suicide. She would have died had Cassin not interfered.

She needed a drink. She soon found a bar around a shady corner and went inside. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at her. She noticed that there were only male Illyrians in the whole bar. She pointed at who she thought was the bartender and looked like he might piss his pants any moment if he hadn't already.

"Yes?" He said looking for a way out of there. She heard murmurs about what happened with the Illyrian earlier, whose sister she was and other rumours about her from the war. How she chopped off the head of Hybren and other things that Nesta didn't pay attention to.

Fortunately for them, no one called her a witch or things would have ended very, very badly for them. She didn't know what would trigger the Cauldron in her. She hadn't felt a flicker of it since the war until it was taking control over her. She still remembered when Tamil the High Tool of the Spring Court had tried to glamour her or the multiple times Rhysand tried to use his psychic abilities and failed.

He bowed at her and Nesta rolled her silver blue eyes. "Lady Archeron, General Cassian has strictly commanded us not to serve you any liquor." She glared at him heatedly, causing him to cower. In a swift motion, she grabbed a bottle at random and left the bar. No idiot came out or stopped her. She had a feeling they would be hearing from him soon.

She leaned against a dark alley and uncorked the bottle. She held the neck of the bottle and chugged down a few gulps before spitting it out. Letting the bottle drop on the cobblestone ground and flumed down. She heard wings flapping above. Cassian couldn't have been told so quickly about the bar, even if her purpose was to piss him off. They didn't sound like his wings, so Nesta grabbed a shard of the broken bottle from pure instinct.

"Relax, Nesta, it's only me," said Azriel in his smooth dark voice.

"Azriel," she mumbled to herself as he carefully sat next to her. The glass slipped from her grasp. They sat in silence, Azriel's shadow companions trailed around them that slowly disappeared. After sometime he asked softly, "How are you holding up?"

Nesta glanced sideways at him, she considered ignoring him. Inhaling deeply, "How am I supposed to be holding up? My sister banished me from the 'home' she forced me to spend my miserable immortal existence in. And when I said that I would personally exile myself and never set foot in her Court, she pulled the boss card on me and I'm not even part of her stupid court!"

She was sure Azriel would defend his High Lady but he shocked her by laughing. She couldn't remember if she ever heard him laugh before. Sometimes she caught him smiling at Elain, maybe laughing silently with his brothers but not much other than that. His laugh didn't seem like the judgemental ones his family would.

"I saw you coming out of the bar and thought I should check up on you."

Staring at the ground she said, "Why? To impress Elain?" He shook his head.

"I'm not doing this for her. I'm doing this for you. Believe me. I know what it's like to be trapped and hopeless. My step-mother kept me locked up in a cell that had no light or windows. I was allowed to go out for an hour everyday but that was it. My body and wings were always urging me to use them but there was nothing I could have done.

"I had almost completely lost them. I couldn't feel them anymore. To break me even more, my stepbrother poured oil on my hands and lit them on fire. Long story short, some illyrians warriors found me and at the age of 11, I was dumped into the rings.

"Until I met Rhysand and Cassian, I was all alone. These shadows were all I had and trusted." He inhaled deeply, letting the words sink in.

"Nesta, I know the moment you were dunked in that dreadful Cauldron, something happened. You didn't come out like Elain. You were in there way longer than her. While you were in there, it shook so violently and it was screeching so horribly that it scared away my shadows. The look of fear on Hybern's face when you went in raising that finger, and still managed to come out," the shadowsinger closed his eyes at the memory of that night.

"What I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't think you are alone. You have been through a lot in these past few years. And there are people that care for you even if you don't let them. It's not going to stop them. It's not going to stop him." He whispered the last part only to himself.

Azriel stood up and brushed himself off. He held a hand out for the fierce woman, unsure whether she would take it or not. She glared at him and got up by herself. They walked out of the alley and he offered his hand again, his wings ready to take off.

Nesta shook her head apologetically, recalling her previous flight. He looked at her with understanding. Maybe his shadow spies had already informed him about her stunt. He shoved his hand in the pocket of his leather and led the way.

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When they arrived at the hut, they were met with a furious looking Cassian, staring down at them. "Where were you?" He grunted through his teeth. "I was showing Nesta around." Azriel answered first, his blue siphoned gleamed in the sunlight.

"Then, why was I told that she was at a bar and stole a bottle of liquor after she was strictly prohibited from drinking or having it in her possession?"

"Cass, I assure you she isn't drunk. How did your meeting with Devlon go?"

"Before I was interrupted," he looked accusingly at Nesta, "He was being a huge pain in the butt, as per usual. I swear I would have beaten him up good, but with the continuing rise of rebels, I stopped myself."

"Those Illyrians are being so arrogant," Azriel said.

"Typical behaviour of you lot. Don't know why you are so surprised." The Archeron mumbled under her breath. Yet both the general and shadowsinger heard her. Az finished his statement quickly and looped his arm around his best friend's neck, slowly dragging him away from Nesta. She went up the hut, slightly greatful of Az. She couldn't even stand his bare presence and the thought of living with him... She sighed.